several passes upon the road, to officers, who attend in their appointed
stations to receive them. They were at first levied by Christians, to
yield a recompense to the country for maintaining the ways in good
repair, and scouring them from Arabs and robbers. The Turks keep up so
gainful an usage still, pretending the same causes for it; but, under
that pretence, they take occasion to exact from passengers, especially
Franks, arbitrary and unreasonable sums, and, instead of being a
safeguard, prove the greatest rogues and robbers themselves.
At a long hour beyond this caphar our road led us over the mountains on
the west side of the valley of Rooge. We were near an hour in crossing
them, after which we descended into another valley, running parallel to
the former, and parted from it only by the last ridge of hills. At the
first descent into this valley is a village called Bell-Maez[527], from
which we came, in two hours, to Shoggle (Jisr Shogher). Our course was,
for the most part of this day, west-south-west. Our stage, in all, ten
hours.
Shoggle is a pretty large, but exceedingly filthy town, situated on the
river Orontes, over which you pass by a bridge of thirteen small arches
to come at the town. The river hereabouts is of a good breadth; and yet
so rapid that it turns great wheels, made for lifting up the water, by
its natural swiftness, without any force added to it by confining its
stream. Its waters are turbid and very unwholesome, and its fish worse,
as we found by experience, there being no person of all our company,
that had eaten of them over night, but found himself much indisposed the
next morning. We lodged here in a very handsome khan, far exceeding what
is usually seen in this sort of buildings. It was founded by the second
Kuper-li, and endowed with a competent revenue for supplying every
traveller that takes up his quarters in it with a competent portion of
bread, and broth, and flesh, which is always ready for those that demand
it, as very few people of the country fail to do. There is annexed to
the khan, on the west side, another quadrangle, containing apartments
for a certain number of alms-men, the charitable donation of the same
Kuper-li. The khan we found, at our arrival, crowded with a great number
of Turkish hadgees, or pilgrims, bound for Mecca; but, nevertheless, we
met with a peaceable reception amongst them, though our faces were set
to a different place.
_March 1._—From Shoggle our road led us at first westerly, in order to
our crossing the mountain on that side the valley. We arrived at the
foot of the ascent in half an hour; but met with such rugged and foul
ways in the mountains, that it took us upwards of two hours to get clear
of them, after which we descended into a third valley, resembling the
other two which we had passed before. At the first entrance into it is a
village called Be-da-me, giving the same name also to the valley. Having
travelled about two hours in this valley, we entered into a woody,
mountainous country, which ends the pashalick of Aleppo and begins that
of Tripoli. Our road here was very rocky and uneven; but yet the variety
which it afforded made some amends for that inconvenience. Sometimes it
led us under the cool shade of thick trees; sometimes through narrow
valleys, watered with fresh, murmuring torrents; and then, for a good
while together, upon the brink of a precipice; and in all places it
treated us with the prospect of plants and flowers of divers kinds, as
myrtles, oleanders, cyclamens, anemones, tulips, marygolds, and several
other sorts of aromatic herbs. Having spent about two hours in this
manner, we descended into a low valley, at the bottom of which is a
fissure into the earth of a great depth, but withal so narrow that it is
not discernible to the eye till you arrive just upon it, though to the
ear a notice of it is given at a great distance, by reason of the noise
of a stream running down into it from the hills. We could not guess it
to be less than thirty yards deep; but it is so narrow that a small
arch, not four yards over, lands you on its other side. They call it the
Sheikh's Wife, a name given it from a woman of that quality, who fell
into it, and, I need not add, perished. The depth of the channel and the
noise of the water are so extraordinary, that one cannot pass over it
without something of horror. The sides of this fissure are firm and
solid rock, perpendicular and smooth, only seeming to lie in a wavy form
all down, as it were to comply with the motion of the water, from which
observation we were led to conjecture that the stream, by a long and
perpetual current, had, as it were, sawn its own channel down into this
unusual deepness, to which effect the water being penned up in so narrow
a passage, and its hurling down stones along with it by its rapidity,
may have not a little contributed[528].
From hence, continuing our course through a road resembling that before
described, we arrived, in one hour, at a small, even piece of ground,
called Hadjar-il-Sultan, or the Sultan's Stone; and here we took up our
quarters this night, under our tents. Our road, this day, pointed for
the most part south-west; and the whole of our stage was about seven
hours and a half.
_March 2._—We were glad to part very early this morning from our
campagnia lodging, the weather being yet too moist and cold for such
discipline. Continuing our journey through woods and mountains, as the
day before, we arrived, in about one hour, at the caphar of Crusia
(Krusiyeh), which is demanded near a khan of that name. A khan they call
it, though it is, in truth, nothing else but a cold, comfortless ruin,
on the top of a hill by the way-side.
From hence, in about another hour, we arrived at the foot of a mountain
called Occaby (Akabi), or, as the word denotes, Difficult; and indeed we
found its ascent fully answerable to its name. The moisture and
slipperiness of the way at this time, added to the steepness of it,
greatly increased our labour in ascending it, insomuch that we were a
full hour in gaining the top of the hill. Here we found no more woods or
hills; but a fine country, well cultivated and planted with silk
gardens, through which, leaving on the right hand a village called Citte
Galle, inhabited solely by Maronites, we came in one hour to Bellulca.
Here we repaired to a place which is both the khan of the village and
the aga's house; and resolving, by reason of the rains, which fell very
plentifully, to make this our lodging, we went to visit the aga, with a
small present in our hands, in order to procure ourselves a civil
reception. But we found little recompense from his Turkish gratitude;
for, after all our respect to him, it was not without much importunity
that we obtained permission to have the use of a dry part of the house,
the place where we were at first lodged lying open to the wind and the
beating in of the rain. Our whole stage, this day, was not much above
four hours; our course about south-west.
Being informed that there were several Christian inhabitants in this
place, we went to visit their church, which we found so poor and pitiful
a structure, that here Christianity seemed to be brought to its humblest
state, and Christ to be laid again in a manger. It was only a room of
about four or five yards square, walled with dirt, having nothing but
the uneven ground for its pavement; and for its ceiling, only some rude
staves laid across it, and covered with bushes to keep out the weather.
On the east side was an altar, built of the same materials with the
wall; only it was paved at the top with potsherds and slates, to give it
the face of a table. In the middle of the altar stood a small cross,
composed of two laths nailed together in the middle, on each side of
which ensign were fastened to the wall two or three old prints,
representing our blessed Lord and the blessed Virgin, &c., the venerable
presents of some itinerant friars that had passed this way. On the south
side was a piece of plank supported by a post, which we understood was
the reading desk, just by which was a little hole commodiously broke
through the wall to give light to the reader. A very mean habitation
this for the God of heaven! but yet held in great esteem and reverence
by the poor people, who not only come with all devotion hither
themselves, but also deposit here whatever is most valuable to them, in
order to derive upon it a blessing. When we were there, the whole room
was hung about with bags of silkworms' eggs, to the end that, by
remaining in so holy a place, they might attract a benediction, and a
virtue of increasing.
_March 3._—The next morning flattered us with the hopes of a fair day,
after the great rains which had fallen for near eight hours together. We
therefore ventured to leave Bellulca, with no great thanks to it for our
entertainment. But we had not gone far, before we began to wish that we
had kept our former accommodation, bad as it was, for the rains began to
break out afresh with greater fury than before; nor had we more comfort
under foot, the road being very deep and full of sloughs. However, we
resolved to go forward, in hopes of a better time, and in four hours
(very long ones in such uncomfortable circumstances) we arrived at
Sholfatia, a poor village situate upon a small river which we were
obliged to pass. A river we might call it now, it being swollen so high
by the late rains that it was impassable, though at other times it be
but a small brook, and in the summer perfectly dry.
Here, instead of mending our condition, as we expected, we began to
drink more deeply of the bitter cup of pilgrims, being brought to such a
strait that we knew not which way to turn ourselves. For (as I said) the
stream was not fordable, so that there was no going forward; and, as for
facing about and returning to the place from whence we came, that was a
thing we were very averse to, well knowing, by that morning's
experience, the badness of the road, and likewise having reason to
expect but a cold welcome at our journey's end. As for lodging in the
village, that was a thing not to be endured; for the houses were all
filled with dirt and nastiness, being inhabited promiscuously by the
villagers and their cattle. As for lying in the campagnia, the rain was
so vehement, we could not do that without an evident danger both to
ourselves and horses.
But whilst we were at this nonplus, not knowing which course to take,
the rain abated, and so we resolved to pitch in the open field, though
thoroughly soaked with the wet, esteeming this however the least evil.
Accordingly, we betook ourselves to a small ascent by the water-side,
intending there, under our tents, to wait the falling of the stream.
We had not enjoyed this cessation of rain long, when it began to pour
down afresh, with terrible lightning and thunder. And now our care was
renewed, and we knew not well which to be most concerned for; whether
ourselves, who enjoyed the miserable comfort of a dropping tent over us,
or for our servants and horses, which had nothing but their own clothes
to protect them. At last, there being a small Sheikh's house, or
burying-place hard by, we comforted ourselves with hopes that we might
take sanctuary there. The only difficulty was how to get admission into
so reverenced a place, the Turks being generally men of greater zeal
than mercy. To negotiate this affair, we sent a Turk (whom we had taken
with us for such occasions) into the village, ordering him to try first
by fair means to gain admittance, and, if that failed, to threaten that
we would enter by force. But the religion of this place was of that kind
which supersedes instead of improving humanity. The people absolutely
denied us the small charity we demanded, and sent us word they would die
upon our swords before they would yield to have their faith defiled;
adding, farther, that it was their faith to be true to Hamet and Aly,
but to hate and renounce Omar and Abu Beker, and that this principle
they were resolved to stand by. We told them we had as bad an opinion of
Omar and Abu Beker as they could have; that we desired only a little
shelter from the present rain, and had no intention to defile their
faith. And thus, with good words, we brought them to consent that we
might secure our baggage in the Sheikh's house; but, as for ourselves
and arms, it was our irreversible sentence to be excluded out of
hallowed walls. We were glad, however, to get the merciless doors open
upon any terms, not doubting but we should be able to make our advantage
of it afterwards, according to our desire, which we actually did; for
when it grew dark, and the villagers were gone to sleep, we all got into
the places of refuge, and there passed a melancholy night among the
tombs; thus escaping, however, the greater evil of the rain, which fell
all night in great abundance.
Being now crept into the inside of the Sheikh's house, I must not omit,
in requital for our lodgings, to give some account of the nature of such
structures. They are stone fabrics, generally six or eight yards square
(more or less), and roofed with a cupola, erected over the graves of
some eminent Sheikhs; that is, such persons, as by their long beards,
prayers of the same standard, and a kind of Pharisaical superciliousness
(which are the great virtues of the Mohammedan religion), have purchased
to themselves the reputation of learning and saints. Of these buildings
there are many scattered up and down the country (for you will find
among the Turks far more dead saints than living ones). They are
situated commonly, though not always, upon the most eminent and
conspicuous ascents. To these oratories the people repair with their
vows and prayers, in their several distresses, much after the same
manner as the Romanists do to the shrines of their saints. Only in this
respect the practice of the Turks seems to be more orthodox, in regard
that though they make their saint's shrine the house of prayer, yet they
always make God alone, and not the saint, the object of their addresses.
_March 4._—To revive us after the heaviness of the last night, we had
the consolation to be informed this morning, that the river was fordable
at a place a little farther down the stream; and, upon experiment, we
found it true as was reported. Glad of this discovery, we made the best
despatch we could to get clear of this inhospitable place, and,
according to our desires, soon arrived with all our baggage on the other
side of the river.
From hence, ascending gently for about half an hour, we came to the foot
of a very steep hill, which, when we had reached, its top presented us
with the first prospect of the ocean. We had in view, likewise, at about
two hours' distance to the westward, the city Latichea (Latakiyah),
situate on a flat fruitful ground close by the sea; a city first built
by Seleucus Nicator, and by him called in honour of his mother,
Λαοδίκεια, which name it retains, with a very little corruption of it,
to this day. It was anciently a place of great magnificence, but in the
general calamity which befell this country it was reduced to a very low
condition, and so remained for a long time. But of late years it has
been encouraged to hold up its head again, and is rebuilt, and become
one of the most flourishing places upon the coast, being cherished and
put in a way of trade by Kaplan Aga, a man of great wealth and authority
in these parts, and much addicted to merchandise.
From the hill which we last ascended, we had a small descent into a
spacious plain, along which we travelled southward, keeping the sea on
the right hand, and a ridge of mountains on the left. Having gone about
one hour and a half in this plain, we discerned on the left hand, not
far from the road, two ancient tombs. They were chests of stone, each
two yards and a half long. Their cavities were covered over with large
tables of stone, that had been lifted aside probably in hopes of
treasure. The chests were carved on the outside with ox-heads, and
wreaths hanging between them, after the manner of adorning heathen
altars. They had likewise, at first, inscriptions graven on them; but
these were so eaten out, that one could not discover so much as the
species of the characters. Here were also several foundations of
buildings; but whether there were ever any place of note situated
hereabouts, or what it might be, I cannot resolve.
Above an hour from these tombs we came to another stream, which
stopped our march again. These mountain rivers are ordinarily very
inconsiderable, but they are apt to swell upon sudden rains, to the
destruction of many a passenger, who will be so hardy as to venture
unadvisedly over them. We took a more successful care at this place;
for, marching about an hour higher up by the side of the stream, we
found a place where the waters by dilating were become shallower, and
there we got a safe passage to the other side. From hence we bent our
course to recover our former road again; but we had not got far before
there began a very violent storm of hail, followed by a hard and
continued rain, which forced us to make the best of our way to Jebilee,
leaving our baggage to follow us at leisure.
Our whole stage this day was about six hours, pointing for the first
hour west, and for the remaining part near south, having the sea on the
right hand, and a ridge of mountains at about two hours' distance on the
left. And in this state our road continued for several days after,
without any difference, save only that the mountains at some places
approach nearer the sea, at other, retire farther off. These mountains
go under different names in several places, as they run along upon the
coast, and are inhabited by rude people of several denominations. In
that part of them above Jebilee, there dwell a people, called by the
Turks Neceres[529], of a very strange and singular character; for it is
their principle to adhere to no certain religion, but, chameleon-like,
they put on the colour of religion whatever it be, which is reflected
upon them from the persons with whom they happen to converse. With
Christians they profess themselves Christians; with Turks they are good
Mussulmans; with Jews they pass for Jews; being such Proteuses in
religion, that nobody was ever able to discover what shape or standard
their consciences are really of. All that is certain concerning them is,
that they make very much and good wine, and are great drinkers.
_March 5._—This whole day we spent at Jebilee, to recruit ourselves
after our late fatigues; having the convenience of a new khan to lodge
in, built at the north entrance into the city, by Ustan, the present
pasha of Tripoli.
Jebilee is seated close by the sea, having a vast and very fruitful
plain stretching round about it, on its other sides. It makes a very
mean figure at present; though it still retains the distinction of a
city, and discovers evident footsteps of a better condition in former
times. Its ancient name, from which also it derives its present, was
Gabala, under which name it occurs in Strabo, and other old geographers.
In the time of the Greek emperors, it was dignified with a bishop's see,
in which sometimes sat Severian the grand adversary and arch-conspirator
against St. Chrysostom.
The most remarkable things that appear here at this day are a mosque,
and an almshouse just by it, both built by sultan Ibrahim. In the former
his body is deposited, and we were admitted to see his tomb, though held
by the Turks in great veneration. We found it only a great wooden chest,
erected over his grave, and covered with a carpet of painted calico,
extending on all sides down to the ground. It was also tricked up with a
great many long ropes of wooden beads hanging upon it, and somewhat
resembling the furniture of a button-maker's shop. This is the usual way
the Turks adorn the tombs of their holy men, as I have seen in several
other instances; the long strings of beads passing in this country for
marks of great devotion and gravity. In this mosque we saw several large
incense pots, candlesticks for altars, and other church furniture, being
the spoils of Christian churches at the taking of Cyprus. Close by the
mosque is a very beautiful bagnio, and a small grove of orange-trees,
under the shade of which travellers are wont to pitch their tents in the
summer-time.
The Turks that were our conductors into the mosque, entertained us with
a long story of this sultan Ibrahim who lies there interred; especially
touching his mortification, and renouncing the world. They reported
that, having divested himself of his royalty, he retired hither, and
lived twenty years in a grotto by the sea-side, dedicating himself
wholly to poverty and devotion; and, in order to confirm the truth of
their relation, they pretended to carry us to the very cell where he
abode. Being come to the place, we found there a multitude of sepulchres
hewn into the rocks by the sea-side, according to the ancient manner of
burying in this country. And amongst these they showed one, which they
averred to be the very place in which the devout sultan exercised his
twenty years' discipline; and, to add a little probability to the story,
they showed, at a small distance, another grotto twice as large as any
of its fellows, and uncovered at the top, which had three niches or
praying places hewn in its south side. This they would have to be sultan
Ibrahim's oratory; it being the manner of the Turks always to make such
niches in their mosques and other places of devotion, to denote the
southern quarter of the world; for that way the Musselmans are obliged
to set their faces when they pray, in reverence to the tomb of their
prophet. These niches are always formed exactly resembling those usually
made for statues, both in their size, fabric, and every circumstance. I
have sometimes reflected for what reason the Turks should appoint such
marks to direct their faces toward in prayer. And if I may be allowed to
conjecture, I believe they did it at first in testimony of their
iconoclastic principle, and to express to them both the reality of the
divine presence there, and at the same time also its invisibility. The
relators of this story of sultan Ibrahim were doubtless fully persuaded
of the truth of it themselves. But we could not tell what conjectures to
make of it, having never met with any account of such a sultan, but only
from this rude tradition.
From these Mahomedan sanctuaries, our guide pretended to carry us to a
Christian church, about two furlongs out of the town on the south side.
When we came to it, we found it nothing but a small grotto in a rock, by
the sea-shore, open on the side towards the sea; and having a rude pile
of stones erected in it for an altar. In our return from this poor
chapel, we met with the person who was the curate of it. He told us that
himself and some few other Christians of the Greek communion were wont
to assemble in this humble cell for divine service, not being permitted
to have any place of worship within the town.
Jebilee seems to have had anciently some convenience for shipping. There
is still to be seen a ridge composed of huge square stones running a
little way into the sea, which appears to have been formerly continued
farther on, and to have made a mole. Near this place we saw a great many
pillars of granite, some by the water-side, others tumbled into the
water. There were others in a garden close by, together with capitals of
white marble finely carved, which testify in some measure the ancient
splendour of this city.
But the most considerable antiquity in Jebilee, and the greatest
monument of its former eminence, is the remains of a noble theatre just
at the north gate of the city. It passes amongst the Turks for an old
castle, which (according to the Asiatic way of enlarging) they report to
have been of so prodigious a height, when in its perfect state, that a
horseman might have rode, about sun-rising, a full hour in the shade of
it.
As for what remains of this mighty Babel, it is no more than twenty feet
high. The flat side of it has been blown up with gunpowder by the Turks.
And from hence (as they related) was taken a great quantity of marble,
which we saw used in adorning their bagnio and mosque before mentioned.
All of it that is now standing is the semicircle. It extends from corner
to corner just a hundred yards. In this semicircular part is a range of
seventeen round windows just above the ground, and between the windows
all round were raised, on high pedestals, large massy pillars, standing
as buttresses against the wall, both for the strength and ornament of
the fabric; but these supporters are at present most of them broken
down.
Within is a very large arena; but the just measure of it could not be
taken, by reason of the houses with which the Turks have almost filled
it up. On the west side the seats of the spectators remain still entire,
as likewise do the caves or vaults which run under the subsellia all
round the theatre. The outward wall is three yards three quarters thick,
and built of very large and firm stones, which great strength has
preserved it thus long from the jaws of time, and from that general ruin
which the Turks bring with them into most places where they come.
_March 6._—Having done with Jebilee, we put forward again early the
next morning, with a prospect of much better weather than we had been
attended with in our former motions. Our road continued by the sea-side,
and in about two hours brought us to a fair deep river, called by the
Turks Nahr-il-Melech, or the King's River. Here we saw some heaps of
ruins on both sides of the river, with several pillars of granite, and
other footsteps of some considerable buildings. About half an hour
farther we passed another river called Jobar, showing the remains of a
stone bridge over it, once well built, but now broken down. On the other
side of this river, in a large ploughed field, stood a great square
tower, and around about, the rubbish of many other buildings. Likewise,
all along this day's journey, we observed many ruins of castles and
houses, which testify that this country, however it be neglected at
present, was once in the hands of a people that knew how to value it,
and thought it worth defending. Strabo calls this whole region, from
Jebilee as far as Aradus, the country of the Aradii (of whom in due
place), and gives us the names of several places situate anciently along
this coast, as Paltus, Balanea, Caranus, Enydra, Marathus, Ximyra. But
whether the ruins which we saw this day, may be the remains of any of
those cities, cannot well be determined at this distance of time, seeing
all we have of those places is only their names, without any sufficient
distinctions by which to discover their situation. The Balanea of Strabo
is indeed said to be still extant, being supposed to be the same place
that the Turks (little changing its name) call at this day Baneas. This
place is four good hours beyond Jebilee. It stands upon a small
declivity, about a furlong distant from the sea, and has a fine
clear stream running swiftly by it on the south side. It is at present
uninhabited, but its situation proves it to have been anciently
a pleasant, its ruins a well-built, and its bay before it, an
advantageous, habitation. At this place was required another caphar.
Leaving Baneas, we went on by the sea-side, and in about a quarter of an
hour passed by an old castle, on the top of a very high mountain. It is
built in the figure of an equilateral triangle, having one of its angles
pointing towards the sea. The Turks call it Merchah[530], and enlarge
much upon the sieges it has sustained in former times; but, whatever
force it may have had anciently, it is at present only a residence for
poor country people. This is probably the same castle mentioned by
Adrichomius and others under the name of Margath, to which the bishops
of Balanea were forced to translate their see, by reason of the insults
of the Saracens.
At about one hour and a half distance from Baneas, we came to a small
clear stream, which induced us to take up our lodging near it. We
pitched in the campagnia about two or three furlongs up from the sea,
having in sight on the mountains above us a village called Sophia,
inhabited solely by Maronites; and a little farther Besack, another
village possessed by Turks only; and a little farther Merakia, whose
inhabitants are a miscellany of Christians and Turks together. Our whole
stage, this day, was about six hours.
_Sunday, March 7._—From this quarter we removed early the next morning,
and in three hours came to a fair deep river called Nahr Hussain, having
an old bridge turned over it, consisting of only one arch, but that very
large and exceedingly well wrought. In one hour and a half more,
travelling still by the sea-side, we reached Tortosa.
The ancient name of this place was Orthosia. It was a bishop's see in
the province of Tyre. The writers of the holy wars make frequent mention
of it, as a place of great strength. And one may venture to believe
them, from what appears of it at this day.
Its situation is on the sea-shore, having a spacious plain extending
around about it on its other sides. What remains of it is the castle,
which is very large and still inhabited. On one side it is washed by the
sea; on the other, it is fortified by a double wall of coarse marble,
built after the rustic manner. Between the two walls is a ditch, as
likewise is another encompassing the outermost wall. You enter this
fortress on the north side, over an old drawbridge, which lands you in a
spacious room, now for the most part uncovered, but anciently well
arched over, being the church belonging to the castle. On one side it
resembles a church, and, in witness of its being such, shows at this day
several holy emblems carved upon its walls, as that of a dove
descending, over the place where stood the altar, and in another place
that of the Holy Lamb. But, on the side which fronts outwards, it has
the face of a castle, being built with port-holes for artillery, instead
of windows. Round the castle on the south and east sides anciently stood
the city. It had a good wall and ditch encompassing it, of which there
are still to be seen considerable remains. But for other buildings,
there is nothing now left in it, except a church, which stands about a
furlong eastward from the castle. It is one hundred and thirty feet in
length, in breadth ninety-three, and in height sixty-one. Its walls,
and arches, and pillars, are of a bastard marble, and all still so
entire, that a small expense would suffice to recover it into the state
of a beautiful church again. But, to the grief of any Christian
beholder, it is now made a stall for cattle, and we were, when we went
to see it, almost up to our knees in dirt and mire.
From Tortosa we sent our baggage before us, with orders to advance a few
miles farther toward Tripoli, to the intent that we might shorten our
stage to that place the next day. We followed not long after, and in
about a quarter of an hour came to a river, or rather the channel of a
river, for it was almost dry, though questionless there must have been
anciently no inconsiderable stream, as we might infer both from the
largeness of the channel, and the fragments of a stone bridge formerly
laid over it.
In about half an hour more we came abreast of a small island, about a
league distant from the shore, called by the Turks Ruad. This is
supposed to be the ancient Arvad, Arphad, or Arpad (under which several
names it occurs, 2 Kings, xix. 12; Gen. x. 18; Ezek. xxvii. 11, &c.),
and the Aradus of the Greeks and Romans. It seemed to the eye to be not
above two or three furlongs long, and was wholly filled up with tall
buildings like castles. The ancient inhabitants of this island were
famous for navigation, and had a command upon the continent as far as
Gabala.
About a quarter of an hour farther we came up with our muleteers, they
having pitched our tents, before they had gone so far as we intended.
But this miscarriage they well recompensed, by the condition of the
place where they stopped, it affording us the entertainment of several
notable antiquities, which we might otherwise perhaps have passed by
unobserved. It was at a green plot lying within one hour of Tortosa, a
little southward of Aradus, and about a quarter of a mile from the sea,
having in it a good fountain (though of a bad name) called the Serpent
Fountain.
The first antiquity that we here observed was a large dyke, thirty yards
over at top, cut in the solid rock. Its sides went sloping down, with
stairs formed out of the natural rock, descending gradually from the top
to the bottom. This dyke stretched in a direct line, east and west, more
than a furlong, bearing still the same figure of stairs running in right
lines all along its sides. It broke off at last at a flat marshy
ground, extending about two furlongs between it and the sea. It is hard
to imagine that the water ever flowed up thus high; and harder, without
supposing that, to resolve for what reason all this pains of cutting the
rock in such a fashion was taken.
This dyke was on the north side of the Serpent Fountain; and, just on
the other side of it, we espied another antiquity, which took up our
next observation. There was a court of fifty-five yards square, cut in
the natural rock; the sides of the rock standing around it, about three
yards high, supplied the place of walls. On three sides it was thus
encompassed, but to the northward it lay open. In the centre of this
area a square part of the rock was left standing, being three yards high
and five yards and a half square. This served for a pedestal to a throne
erected upon it. The throne was composed of large stones, two at the
sides, one at the back, another hanging over all at top, in the manner
of a canopy. The whole structure was about twenty feet high, fronting
toward that side where the court was open. The stone that made the
canopy was five yards and three quarters square, and carved round with a
handsome cornice. What all this might be designed for, we could not
imagine, unless, perhaps, the court may pass for an idol temple, and the
pile in the middle for the throne of the idol; which seems the more
probable, in regard that Hercules, _i.e._ the Sun, the great abomination
of the Phœnicians, was wont to be adored in an open temple. At the two
innermost angles of the court, and likewise on the open side, were left
pillars of the natural rock, three at each of the former, and two at the
latter.
About half a mile to the southward of the aforesaid antiquities, there
stood in view two towers. But, it growing dark, we were forced to defer
our examination of them till the next morning. Our whole stage this day
exceeded not six hours.
_March 8._—Having passed over a restless night, in a marshy and
unwholesome ground, we got up very early, in order to take a nearer view
of the two towers last mentioned. We found them to be sepulchral
monuments, erected over two ancient burying-places. They stood at about
ten yards' distance from each other.
The first was thirty-three feet high. Its longest stone or pedestal was
ten feet high, and fifteen square. The super-structure upon which was
first a tall stone in form of a cylinder, and then another stone cut in
shape of a pyramid. The other tower was thirty feet and two inches high.
Its pedestal was in height six feet, and sixteen feet six inches square.
It was supported by four lions, carved one at each corner of the
pedestal. The carving had been very rude at best, but was now rendered
by time much worse. The upper part reared upon the pedestal was all one
single stone.
Each of these barbarous monuments had under it several sepulchres, the
entrances into which were on the south side. It cost us some time and
pains to get into them, the avenues being obstructed, first with briars
and weeds, and then with dirt. But, however, we removed both these
obstacles, encouraging ourselves with the hopes, or rather making
ourselves merry with the fancy, of hidden treasure. But, as soon as we
were entered into the vaults, we found that our golden imaginations
ended (as all worldly hopes and projects do at last) in dust and
putrefaction. But, however, that we might not go away without some
reward for our pains, we took as exact a survey as we could of these
chambers of darkness, which were disposed in manner as follows.
The chambers under the first tower lie side by side. Going down seven or
eight steps, you come to the mouth of the sepulchre, where crawling in
you arrive in the first chamber, which is nine feet two inches broad,
and eleven feet long. Turning to the right hand, and going through a
narrow passage, you come to a room which is eight feet broad and ten
long. In this chamber are seven cells for corpses, viz. two over against
the entrance, four on the left hand, and one unfinished on the right.
These cells were hewn directly into the firm rock. We measured several
of them, and found them eight feet and a half in length, and three feet
three inches square. I would not infer from hence, that the corpses
deposited here were of such a gigantic size as to fill up such large
coffins; though, at the same time, why should any men be so prodigal of
their labour as to cut these caverns into so hard a rock as this was,
much farther than necessity required?
On the other side of the first chamber was a narrow passage, seven feet
long, leading into a room whose dimensions were nine feet in breadth and
twelve in length. It had eleven cells of somewhat a less size than the
former, lying at equal distances all round about it.
Passing out of the first room, you have, right before you, two narrow
entrances, each seven feet long, into another room. This apartment was
nine feet square. It had no cells in it like the others, nor any thing
else remarkable, but only a bench, cut all along its side on the left
hand. From the description of this sepulchre, it is easy to conceive the
disposition of the other. The height of the rooms in both was about six
feet, and the towers were built each over the innermost room of the
sepulchres to which it belonged.
At about the distance of a furlong from this place, we discerned another
tower, resembling this last described. It was erected likewise over a
sepulchre. There was this singularity observable in this last sepulchre,
that its cells were cut into the rock eighteen feet in length, possibly
to the intent, that two or three corpses might be deposited in each of
them, at the feet of one another. But, having a long stage this day to
Tripoli, we thought it not seasonable to spend any more time in this
place, which might perhaps have afforded us several other antiquities.
And yet, for all our haste, we had not gone a mile, before our curiosity
was again arrested by the observation of another tower, which appeared
in a thicket not far from the wayside. It was thirty-three feet and a
half high, and thirty-one feet square, composed of huge square stones,
and adorned with a handsome cornice all around at top. It contained only
two rooms, one above the other; into both which there were entrances on
the north side, through two square holes in the wall. The separation
between both rooms, as also the covering at the top, was made, not of
arched work, but of vast flat stones, in thickness four feet, and so
great an extent, that two of them in each place, sufficed to spread over
the whole fabric. This was a very ancient structure, and probably a
place of sepulture.
I must not forget, that around about the Serpent Fountain, and also as
far as this last tower, we saw many sepulchres, old foundations, and
other remains of antiquity. From all which it may be assuredly
concluded, that here must needs have been some famous habitation in
ancient times; but whether this might be the Ximyra, laid down by Strabo
hereabouts (or, as Pliny calls it, Simyra[531]), the same, possibly,
with the country of the Zemarites, mentioned in conjunction with the
Arvadites[532], I leave to others to discuss.
Having quitted ourselves of these antiquities, we entered into a
spacious plain, extending to a vast breadth, between the sea and the
mountains, and in length reaching almost as far as Tripoli. The people
of the country call it Junia, that is, the Plain, which name they give
it by way of eminency, upon account of its vast extent. We were full
seven hours in passing it, and found it all along exceedingly fruitful,
by reason of the many rivers and the great plenty of water which it
enjoys. Of these rivers the first is about six hours before you come to
Tripoli. It has a stone bridge over it of three large arches, and is the
largest stream in the whole plain; for which reason it goes by the name
of Nahr-el-Kibber, or the Great River. About half an hour farther you
come to another river, called Nahr Abrosh, or the Leper's River. In
three quarters of an hour more you pass a third river, called Nahr
Acchar, having a handsome stone bridge, of one very large arch laid over
it. Two good hours more bring you to a fourth river, called ... or the
Cold Waters, with a bridge of three arches over it. From hence you have
two good hours more to Tripoli. I took the more exact account of all
these streams to the intent that I might give some light, for the better
deciding that difference which is found in geographers about the place
of the river Eleutherus. The moderns, all with one consent, give that
name to a river between Tyre and Sidon, called by the Turks Casimeer.
But this contradicts the universal testimony of the ancients, who place
Eleutherus more northward. Strabo will have it somewhere between
Orthosia and Tripoli, as a boundary dividing Syria from Phœnicia[533].
Pliny places it near Orthosia, emptying itself into the sea over against
Aradus[534]. The writer of the Maccabees[535] lays it in the land of
Hamath, which country, whatever it were, was certainly without the
borders of Israel, as appears from the same author. To this Josephus
agrees, placing Eleutherus to the north of Sidon, as may be collected
from him[536], where, speaking of Mark Antony's donation to Cleopatra,
he reports how that extravagant gallant gave her all the cities between
Eleutherus and Egypt, except Tyre and Sidon. Ptolemy, as cited by
Terranius, places it yet more northerly, between Orthosia and Balnea.
From all which it is evident that this cannot be the true ancient
Eleutherus, which the moderns assign for it. But that name is rather to
be ascribed to one of these rivers crossing the plain of Junia; or else
(if Pliny's authority may be relied upon) to that river (now dry) which
I mentioned a little on this side of Tortosa, and which has its mouth
almost opposite to Aradus. But I will not determine any thing on this
point, contenting myself to have given an account of the several rivers
as we passed them.
_March 9._—Drawing towards Tripoli, our muleteers were afraid to
advance, lest their beasts might be pressed for public service; as they
were afterwards, in spite of all their caution, to our vexation. So we
left them in the plain of Junia, and proceeded ourselves to Tripoli,
where we arrived about sunset. Our whole stage this day was ten hours.
At Tripoli we reposed a full week, being very generously entertained by
Mr. Francis Hastings, the consul, and Mr. John Fisher, merchant; theirs
being the only English house in Tripoli.
Tripoli is seated about half an hour from the sea. The major part of the
city lies between two hills; one on the east, on which is a castle
commanding the place; another on the west, between the city and the sea.
This latter is said to have been at first raised and to be still
increased by the daily accession of sand, blown to it from the shore,
upon which occasion there goes a prophecy that the whole city shall in
time be buried with this sandy hill. But the Turks seem not very
apprehensive of this prediction; for, instead of preventing the growth
of the hill, they suffer it to take its course, and make it a place of
pleasure, which they would have little inclination to do, did they
apprehend it were some time to be their grave.
_March 10._—This day we were all treated by Mr. Fisher in the
Campagnia. The place where we dined was a narrow pleasant valley, by a
river's side, distant from the city about a mile eastward. Across the
valley there runs from hill to hill a handsome lofty aqueduct, carrying
upon it so large a body of water as suffices the whole city. It was
called the Prince's Bridge, supposed to have been built by Godfrey of
Bouilloin.
_March 11._—This day we all dined at consul Hastings's house, and after
dinner went to wait upon Ustan, the pasha of Tripoli, having first sent
our present, as the manner is amongst the Turks, to procure a propitious
reception.
It is counted uncivil to visit in this country without an offering in
hand. All great men expect it as a kind of tribute due to their
character and authority, and look upon themselves as affronted, and,
indeed, defrauded, when this compliment is omitted. Even in familiar
visits amongst inferior people, you shall seldom have them come without
bringing a flower, or an orange, or some other such token of their
respect to the person visited; the Turks in this point keeping up the
ancient oriental custom hinted in 1 Sam. ix. 7. "If we go," says Saul,
"what shall we bring the man of God? there is not a present," &c., which
words are questionless to be understood in conformity to this eastern
custom, as relating to a token of respect, and not a price of
divination.
_March 12._—In the afternoon we went to visit Bell-Mount, a convent of
Greeks, about two hours to the southward of Tripoli. It was founded by
one of the earls of Tripoli, and stands upon a very high rocky mountain,
looking over the sea; a place of very difficult ascent, though made as
accessible as it was capable by the labour of the poor monks. It was our
fortune to arrive there just as they were going to their evening
service. Their chapel is large, but obscure, and the altar is inclosed
with cancelli, so as not to be approached by any one but the priest,
according to the fashion of the Greek churches. They call their
congregation together by beating a kind of tune with two mallets on a
long pendulous piece of plank at the church door, bells being an
abomination to the Turks.
Their service consisted in precipitate and very irreverent chattering of
certain prayers and hymns to our blessed Saviour, and to the blessed
Virgin, and in some dark ceremonies; the priest that officiated spent at
least one-third part of his time in compassing the altar, and perfuming
it with a pot of incense, and then going all round the congregation,
flinging his incense-pot backwards and forwards, and tendering its smoke
with three repeated vibrations to every person present. Towards the end
of the service there was brought into the body of the church a small
table covered with a fair linen cloth, on which were placed five small
cakes of bread cross way, in this form ⁙, and in the centre of each
cake was fixed a small lighted wax taper, a hole in the cake serving for
a socket.
At this ceremony the priest read the gospel concerning our Lord's
feeding the multitude with five loaves. After which the bread was
carried into the cancelli, and, being there suddenly broke into bits,
was again brought out in a basket, and presented to every one in the
assembly, that he might take a little. After this collation the priest
pronounced the blessing, and so the service ended. On both sides of the
body of the church were seats for the monks, in the nature of the stalls
for the fellows of colleges in Oxford; and on each hand of every seat
were placed crutches. These you find in like manner in most churches of
this country. Their use is for the priest to lean upon, the service
being sometimes so long, that they cannot well stay it out without the
assistance of such easements, for they are not permitted by their rubric
to sit down. The younger monks, who perhaps may have no great occasion
for these supporters, do yet delight to use them (as the Spaniards do
spectacles), not for any necessity, but in affectation of gravity.
The monks of this convent were, as I remember, forty in all. We found
them seemingly a very good-natured, and industrious, but certainly a
very ignorant people. For I found upon inquiry they could not give any
manner of rationale of their own divine service. And, to show their
extreme simplicity, I cannot omit a compliment made to the consul, by
the chief of them, viz., that he was as glad to see him as if he had
beheld the Messiah himself coming in person to make a visit to him.
Nor is this ignorance to be much wondered at; for what intervals of time
they have between their hours of devotion they are forced to spend, not
in study, but in managing of their flocks, cultivating their land,
pruning their vineyards, and other labours of husbandry, which they
accomplish with their own hands. This toil they are obliged to undergo,
not only to provide for their own sustenance, but also that they may be
able to satisfy the unreasonable exactions which the greedy Turks, upon
every pretence they can invent, are ready to impose upon them. But, that
it may be the better guessed what sort of men these Greek monks are, I
will add this further indication, viz., that the same person whom we
saw officiating at the altar in his embroidered sacerdotal robe brought
us the next day, on his own back, a kid, and a goat's skin of wine, as a
present from the convent.
_March 13._—This morning we went again to wait upon Ustan pasha, by his
own appointment, and were entertained as before with great courtesy. For
you must know that the Turks are not so ignorant of civility and the
arts of endearment, but that they can practise them with as much
exactness as any other nation, whenever they have a mind to show
themselves obliging. For the better apprehending of which, it may not be
improper nor unpleasant here to describe the ceremonies of a Turkish
visit, as far as they have ever fallen under my observation, either upon
this or any other occasion.
When you would make a visit to a person of quality here, you must send
one before with a present to bespeak your admission, and to know at what
hour your coming may be most seasonable. Being come to the house, the
servants receive you at the outermost gate, and conduct you towards
their lord or master's apartment; other servants (I suppose of better
rank) meeting you in the way, at their several stations, as you draw
nearer to the person you visit. Coming into his room, you find him
prepared to receive you, either standing at the edge of the divan, or
else lying down at one corner of it, according as he thinks it proper to
maintain a greater or less distinction. These divans are a sort of low
stages, seated in the pleasantest part of the room, elevated about
sixteen or eighteen inches or more above the floor. They are spread with
carpets, and furnished all round with bolsters for leaning upon. Upon
these the Turks eat, sleep, smoke, receive visits, say their prayers,
&c. Their whole delight is in lolling upon them; and in furnishing them
richly out is their greatest luxury.
Being come to the side of the divan, you slip off your shoes, and
stepping up take your place; which you must do first at some distance,
and upon your knees, laying your hand very formally before you. Thus you
most remain till the man of quality invites you to draw nearer, and to
put yourself in an easier posture, leaning upon the bolster. Being thus
fixed, he discourses with you as the occasion offers, the servants
standing round all the while in a great number, and with the profoundest
respect, silence, and order imaginable. When you have talked over your
business, or the compliments, or whatever other concern brought you
thither, he makes a sign to have things served in for the entertainment,
which is generally a little sweetmeat, a dish of sherbet, and another of
coffee; all which are immediately brought in by the servants, and
tendered to all the guests in order, with the greatest care and
awfulness imaginable. And they have reason to look well to it; for
should any servant make but the least slip or mistake, either in
delivering or receiving his dish, it might cost him fifty, perhaps one
hundred drubs on his bare feet, to atone for his crime. At last comes
the finishing part of your entertainment, which is perfuming the beards
of the company, a ceremony which is performed in this manner. They have
for this purpose a small silver chafing-dish, covered with a lid full of
holes, and fixed upon a handsome plate. In this they put some fresh
coals, and upon them a piece of lignum aloes, and then, shutting it up,
the smoke immediately ascends with a grateful odour through the holes of
the cover. This smoke is held under every one's chin, and offered as it
were a sacrifice to his beard. The bristly idol soon perceives the
reverence done to it, and so greedily takes in and incorporates the
gummy steam, that it retains the savour of it, and may serve for a
nosegay a good while after.
This ceremony may perhaps seem ridiculous at first hearing, but it
passes among the Turks for a high gratification. And I will say this in
its vindication, that its design is very wise and useful. For it is
understood to give a civil dismission to the visitants, intimating to
them that the master of the house has business to do, or some other
avocation, that permits them to go away as soon as they please, and the
sooner after this ceremony the better. By this means you may at any
time, without offence, deliver yourself from being detained from your
affairs by tedious and unseasonable visits, and from being constrained
to use that piece of hypocrisy so common in the world, of pressing those
to stay longer with you whom perhaps in your heart you wish a great way
off for having troubled you so long already. But of this enough.
Having discharged our visit to Ustan pasha, we rode out after dinner to
view the marine. It is about half an hour distant from the city. The
port is an open sea rather than an inclosed harbour. However it is in
part defended from the force of the waves by two small islands about two
leagues out from the shore, one of which is called the Bird, the other
the Coney Island, being so named from the creatures which they severally
produce. For its security from pirates it has several castles, or rather
square towers, built all along upon the shore at convenient distances.
They are, I think, six in number; but at present void of all manner of
force both of men and ammunition.
In the fields near the shore appeared many heaps of ruins and pillars of
granite, and several other indications that there must have been
anciently some considerable buildings this way, which agrees very well
with what Casaubon, in his notes upon Strabo[537], quotes out of
Diodorus, viz., that the place called Tripoli was anciently a cluster of
three cities, standing at a furlong's distance from each other, of which
the first was a seat of the Radii, the second of the Sidonians, the
third of the Tyrians; and from hence it is probable that Tripoli was a
name given at first to three distinct but adjacent places, and not to
one city, built, as is usually said, by the mingled interest of Tyre,
Sidon, and Aradus; it being hard to conceive how three such independent
commonwealths should thus concur in the founding of one city between
them; and harder, how they should agree in governing it afterwards.
_Sunday, March 14._—We continued still in Tripoli.
_March 15._—Resolving to prosecute our journey this day, we had given
orders to our muleteers, some time before, to be ready to attend us; but
they had been so frightened by the pasha of Sidon's servants, who were
abroad in quest of mules for the service of their master, that they were
run away, and could not be heard of; a disappointment which gave us much
vexation, and left us to no other remedy but only to supply ourselves
with fresh beasts where we could find them.
Having, after much trouble, put ourselves in a new posture of
travelling, we parted from Tripoli at three o'clock in the afternoon.
Proceeding close by the sea, we came, in one hour and a half, to
Callemone, a small village just under Bell-Mount. From hence, putting
forward till near eight o'clock, we came to a high promontory, which lay
directly across our way, and broke off abruptly at the sea-side, with a
cape very high and almost perpendicular. In order to pass this barrier
we turned up on the left hand into a narrow valley, through which our
road lay; and, it being now late, we took up our quarters there under
some olive-trees, having come, in all, about five hours.
The promontory which terminated our journey seems to be that called by
Strabo[538] τὸ τοῦ Θεοῦ πρόσωπον, or the face of God, assigned by that
author for the end of Mount Libanus. Between this place and Tripoli he
mentions, likewise, a city called Trieris; but of this we saw no
footsteps, unless you will allow for such some sepulchres which we saw
cut in the rocks about one hour and a half before we arrived at the
promontory.
_March 16._—We were no sooner in motion this morning, but we were
engaged in the difficult work of crossing over the forementioned cape.
The pass over it lies about a mile up from the sea. We found it very
deep and rugged; but in an hour or thereabout mastered it, and arrived
in a narrow valley on the other side, which brought the sea open to us
again. Near the entrance of this valley stands a small fort, erected
upon a rock perpendicular on all sides, the walls of the building being
just adequate to the sides of the rock, and seeming almost of one
continued piece with them. This castle is called Temseida, and commands
the passage into the valley.
In about half an hour from this place we came even with Patrone, a place
esteemed to be the ancient Botrus. It is situated close by the sea; and,
our road lying somewhat higher up in the land, we diverted a little out
of the way to see it. We found in it some remains of an old church and a
monastery; but these are now perfectly ruined and desolate, as is
likewise the whole city; nor is there any thing left in it to testify it
has been a place of any great consideration.
In three hours more we came to Gibyle, called by the Greeks Byblus, a
place once famous for the birth and temple of Adonis. It is pleasantly
situated by the sea-side. At present it contains but a little extent of
ground, but yet more than enough for the small number of its
inhabitants. It is compassed with a dry ditch and a wall, with square
towers in it at about every forty yards' distance. On its south side it
has an old castle. Within it is a church exactly of the same figure with
that at Tortosa, only not so entire as that. Besides this it has nothing
remarkable, though anciently it was a place of no mean extent as well
as beauty, as may appear from the many heaps of ruins, and the fine
pillars that are scattered up and down in the gardens near the town.
Gibyle is probably the country of the Giblites, mentioned Josh. xiii. 5.
King Hiram made use of the people of this place in preparing materials
for Solomon's temple, as may be collected from the first of Kings, v.
18, where the word which our translator has rendered stone-squarers, in
the Hebrew is [Hebrew: גבלים], Giblim, or Giblites, and in the LXXII
Interpreters, Βύβλιοι, that is, the Men of Byblus; the former
using the Hebrew, the latter the Greek name of this place. The same
difference may be observed likewise in Ezekiel, xxvii. 9, where this
place is again mentioned; the ancients of Gebal, says our translation,
following the Hebrew; instead of which you read in the LXXII. again
οἱ πρεσβύτεροι Βυβλίων, the elders of Bybli or Byblus.
Leaving Gibyle, we came in one hour to a fair, large river, with a stone
bridge over it, of only one arch, but that exceeding wide and lofty. To
this river the Turks give the name of Ibrahim Pasha; but it is doubtless
the ancient river Adonis, so famous for the idolatrous rites performed
here in lamentation of Adonis. Upon the bank of this stream we took up
our quarters for the following night, having come this day about six
hours. We had a very tempestuous night both of wind and rain, almost
without cessation, and with so great violence that our servants were
hardly able to keep up our tents over us. But, however, this accident,
which gave us so much trouble in the night, made us amends with a
curiosity which it yielded us an opportunity of beholding the next
morning.
_March 17._—For by this means we had the fortune to see what may be
supposed to be the occasion of that opinion which Lucian relates
concerning the river, viz., that this stream, at certain seasons of the
year, especially about the feast of Adonis, is of a bloody colour, which
the heathens looked upon as proceeding from a kind of sympathy in the
river for the death of Adonis, who was killed by a wild boar in the
mountains out of which this stream rises. Something like this we saw
actually come to pass; for the water was stained to a surprising
redness, and, as we observed in travelling, had discoloured the sea, a
great way, into a reddish hue, occasioned, doubtless, by a sort of
minium, or red earth, washed into the river by the violence of the
rain, and not by any stain from Adonis's blood.
In an hour and a quarter from this river we passed over the foot of the
mountain Climax, where, having gone through a very rugged and uneven
pass, we came into a large bay called Junia. At the first entrance into
the bay is an old stone bridge, which appoints the limits between the
two pashalicks of Tripoli and Sidon. At the bottom of the bay are
exceeding high and steep mountains, between which and the sea the road
lies. These are the mountains of Castravan, chiefly inhabited by
Maronites, famous for a growth of excellent wine. The Maronite bishop of
Aleppo has here his residence in a convent, of which he is the guardian.
We saw many other small convents on the top of these mountains, one of
which, called Oozier, was, as we were here told, in the hands of ten or
twelve Latin friars. Towards the further side of the bay we came to a
square tower, or castle, of which kind there are many all along upon the
coast for several days' journey from this place. They are said to have
been built by the empress Helena, for the protection of the country from
pirates. At this tower is to be paid a fourth[539] caphar. It is
received by Maronites, a pack of rogues more exacting and insolent in
their office than the very Turks themselves. A little beyond this place
we came to a road cut through the rocks, which brought us out of the
bay, having been one hour and a quarter in compassing it. In an hour
more, spent upon a very rugged way, close by the sea, we came to the
river Lycus, called also, sometimes, Canis, and by the Turks, at this
day, Nahr Kelp. It derives its name from an idol in the form of a dog or
wolf, which was worshipped, and is said to have pronounced oracles, at
this place. The image is pretended to be shown to strangers at this day,
lying in the sea with its heels upward. I mean the body of it; for its
oracular head is reported to have been broken off and carried to Venice,
where (if fame be true) it may be seen at this day.
I know not by what mistake several modern geographers confound this
river with Adonis, making them to be one and the same, whereas the
contrary is apparent, both from experimental observation and from the
authority of ancient geographers.
This river issues into the sea from between two mountains excessively
steep and high, and so rocky that they seem to consist each of one
entire stone. For crossing the river you go up between these mountains
about a bow-shot from the sea, where you have a good bridge of four
arches, near the foot of which is a piece of white marble inlaid in the
side of a rock, with an Arab inscription on it, intimating its founder
to have been the emir Faccardine (of whom I shall have occasion to speak
more when I come to Beirout). Being passed the river, you immediately
begin to ascend the mountain, or rather great rock, on the other side.
To accommodate the passage you have a path of above two yards' breadth
cut along its side, at a great height above the water, being the work of
the emperor Antoninus; for the promontory allowing no passage between it
and the sea, at bottom, that emperor undertook, with incredible labour,
to open this way above, the memory of which good work is perpetuated by
an inscription engraved on a table planed in the side of the natural
rock, not far from the entrance into the way, as follows:—
IMP: CAES: M: AURELIUS
ANTONINUS, PIUS, FELIX, AUGUSTUS
PARTH: MAX: BRIT: GERM: MAXIMUS
PONTIFEX MAXIMUS
MONTIBUS IMMINENTIBUS
LYCO FLUMINI CAESIS VIAM DILATAVIT
PER--(_purposely erased_)--
ANTONINIANAM SUAM
A little higher up in the way are inscribed these words:—
INVICTE IMP: ANTONINE P: FELIX AUG:
MULTIS ANNIS IMPERA!
In passing this way, we observed, in the sides of the rock above us,
several tables of figures carved, which seemed to promise something of
antiquity. To be satisfied of which, some of us clambered up to the
place, and found there some signs as if the old way had gone in that
region, before Antoninus cut the other more convenient passage a little
lower. In several places thereabouts we saw strange antique figures of
men carved in the natural rock, in mezzo relievo, and in bigness equal
to the life. Close by each figure was a large table planed in the side
of the rock, and bordered round with mouldings. Both the effigies and
the tables appeared to have been anciently inscribed all over, but the
characters are now so defaced, that nothing but the footsteps of them
were visible. There was only one of the figures that had both its
lineaments and its inscriptions entire.
It was our unhappiness to have at this place a very violent storm of
thunder and rain, which made our company too much in haste to make any
longer stay here. By which misfortune I was prevented, to my great
regret, from copying the inscription, and making such an exact scrutiny
into this antiquity as it seemed very well to deserve. I hope some
curious traveller or other will have better success in passing this way
hereafter. The figures seemed to resemble mummies, and were perhaps the
representation of some persons buried hereabout, whose sepulchres might
probably also be discovered by the diligent observer.
The Antonine way extends about a quarter of an hour's travel. It is at
present so broken and uneven, that to repair it would require no less
labour than that wherewith it was at first made. After this pass you
come upon a smooth sandy shore, which brings you in about one hour and a
half to the river Beirout (for I could learn no other name it had). It
is a large river, and has over it a stone bridge of six arches. On its
other side is a plain field near the sea, which is said to be the stage
on which St. George duelled and killed the dragon. In memory of this
achievement there is a small chapel built upon the place, dedicated at
first to that Christian hero, but now perverted to a mosque. From
thence, in an hour, we arrived at Beirout, very wet by reason of the
long and severe rain. However, we found here the shelter of a good khan
by the sea-side, and there we took up our quarters. Our whole stage,
this day, was about six hours and a half.
_March 18._—The day following we spent at Beirout, being credibly
informed that the river Damer, which lay in our next stage, was so
swollen by the late rains that it would be impassable. This place was
anciently called Berytus, from which the idol Baal-Berith is supposed to
have had its name; and afterwards, being greatly esteemed by Augustus,
had many privileges conferred upon it, and together with them a new
name, viz. Julia Felix. But at present it retains nothing of its ancient
felicity, except the situation, and in that particular it is indeed
very happy. It is seated on the sea-side, in a soil fertile and
delightful, raised only so high above the salt water as to be secure
from its overflowings, and all other noxious and unwholesome effects of
that element. It has the benefit of good fresh springs flowing down to
it from the adjacent hills, and dispensed all over the city, in
convenient and not unhandsome fountains. But, besides these advantages
of its situation, it has at present nothing else to boast of.
The emir Faccardine had his chief residence in this place. He was in the
reign of sultan Morat, the fourth emir, or prince of the Druses, a
people supposed to have descended from some dispersed remainder of those
Christian armies that engaged in the crusades for the recovery of the
Holy Land[540], who afterwards being totally routed, and despairing of a
return to their native country again, betook themselves to the mountains
hereabout, in which their descendants have continued ever since.
Faccardine, being (as I said) prince of these people, was not contented
to be penned up in the mountains, but by his power and artifice enlarged
his dominions down into the sea-coast, as far from this place to Acre.
At last the Grand Seignior, growing jealous of such a growing power,
drove the wild beast back again to the mountains from whence he had
broke loose; and there his posterity retain their principality to this
day.
We went to view the palace of this prince, which stands on the
north-east part of the city. At the entrance of it is a marble fountain,
of greater beauty than is usually seen in Turkey. The palace within
consists of several courts, all now run much to ruin, or rather perhaps
never finished. The stables, yards for horses, dens for lions and other
savage creatures, gardens, &c., are such as would not be unworthy of the
quality of a prince in Christendom, were they wrought up to that
perfection of which they are capable, and to which they seem to have
been designed by their first contriver.
But the best sight that this palace affords, and the most worthy to be
remembered, is the orange garden. It contains a large quadrangular plot
of ground, divided into sixteen lesser squares, four in a row, with
walks between them. The walks are shaded with orange-trees, of a large
spreading size, and all of so fine a growth both for stem and head,
that one cannot imagine any thing more perfect of this kind. They were,
at the time when we were there, as it were gilded with fruit, hanging
thicker upon them than ever I saw apples in England. Every one of these
sixteen lesser squares in the garden was bordered with stone, and in the
stonework were troughs very artificially contrived, for conveying the
water all over the garden, there being little outlets cut at every tree,
for the stream, as it passed by, to flow out and water it. Were this
place under the cultivation of an English gardener, it is impossible any
thing could be made more delightful. But these Hesperides were put to no
better use, when we saw them, than to serve as a fold for sheep and
goats, insomuch that in many places they were up to the knees in dirt.
So little sense have the Turks of such refined delights as these, being
a people generally of the grossest apprehension, and knowing few other
pleasures but such sensualities as are equally common both to man and
beast. On the east side of this garden were two terrace-walks, rising
one above the other, each of them having an ascent to it of twelve
steps. They had both several fine spreading orange-trees upon them, to
make shades in proper places. And at the north end they led into booths,
and summer-houses, and other apartments, very delightful; this place
being designed by Faccardine for the chief seat of his pleasure.
It may perhaps be wondered how this emir should be able to contrive any
thing so elegant and regular as this garden, seeing the Turkish gardens
are usually nothing else but a confused miscellany of trees jumbled
together, without either knots, walks, arbours, or any thing of art or
design, so that they seem like thickets rather than gardens. But
Faccardine had been in Italy, where he had seen things of another
nature, and knew well how to copy them in his own country; for indeed it
appears, by these remains of him, that he must needs have been a man
much above the ordinary level of a Turkish genius.
In another garden we saw several pedestals for statues, from whence it
may be inferred that this emir was no very zealous Mohammedan. At one
corner of the same garden stood a tower of about sixty feet high,
designed to have been carried to a much greater elevation for a
watch-tower, and for that end built with an extraordinary strength, its
walls being twelve feet thick. From this tower we had a view of the
whole city. Amongst other prospects, it yielded us the sight of a large
Christian church, said to have been at first consecrated to St. John the
Evangelist; but, it being now usurped by the Turks for their chief
mosque, we could not be permitted to see it, otherwise than at this
distance. Another church there is in the town, which seems to be
ancient; but, being a very mean fabric, it is suffered to remain still
in the hands of the Greeks. We found it adorned with abundance of old
pictures. Amongst the rest I saw one with this little inscription,
Κούαρτος πρῶτος Αρχιεπίσκοπος Βηρούτου; and just by it was the figure of
Nestorius, who commonly makes one amongst the saints painted in the
Greek churches, though they do not now profess, nor, I believe, so much
as know his heresy. But that which appeared most observable was a very
odd figure of a saint, drawn at full length, with a large beard reaching
down to his feet. The curate gave us to understand that this was St.
Nicephorus; and, perceiving that his beard was the chief object of our
admiration, he gratified us with the following relation concerning him;
viz., That he was a person of the most eminent virtue in his time; but
his great misfortune was, that the endowments of his mind were not set
off with the outward ornament of a beard. Upon occasion of which defect
he fell into a deep melancholy. The devil, taking advantage of this
priest, promised to give him that boon which nature had denied, in case
he would comply with his suggestion. The beardless saint, though he was
very desirous of the reward proposed, yet he would not purchase it at
that rate neither, but rejected the previous bribe with indignation,
declaring resolutely that he had rather for ever despair of his wish
than obtain it upon such terms; and, at the same time, taking in hand
the downy tuft upon his chin, to witness the stability of his resolution
(for he had, it seems, beard enough to swear by), behold! as a reward
for his constancy, he found the hair immediately stretch with the pluck
that he gave it. Whereupon, finding it in so good a humour, he followed
the happy omen; and, as young heirs that have been niggardly bred,
generally turn prodigals when they come to their estates, so he never
desisted from pulling his beard till he had drawn it down to his feet.
But enough both of the beard and the story. At the east end of Beirout
are to be seen seven or eight beautiful pillars of granite, each ...
feet long, and three in diameter. And over another gate, not far
distant, we found on a piece of marble the following inscription: Τῆς
τοῦ προσίοντος ἀνδρὸς ἐννοίας αἰεὶ σαφὴς ἔληγχος, ἡ πρόσοψις γείνεται
δίδου προθυμῶς ὅ παρέχεις ἤ μὴ δίδου παρὰ γὰρ τὸ μειχρὸν γείνεται πτήρης
χάρις. It was probably at first an altar inscription, relating to the
offertory in the holy communion, for its sense seems to look that way,
and it is well known that the comers to the blessed sacrament were
called by the ancients by the peculiar name of οἳ προσίοντες, as
Valesius proves out of St. Chrysostom[541].
On the south side the town wall is still entire, but built out of the
ruins of the old city, as appears by pieces of pillars and marble which
help to build it. On one piece of marble table we saw these remaining
letters of a Latin inscription:—
.... VG. ETIA ....
.... XI CUM ....
.... VS PHOEBUS ....
_All the rest being purposely erased._
A little without this wall we saw many granite pillars and remnants of
Mosaic floors, and in a heap of rubbish several pieces of polished
marble, fragments of statues, and other poor relics of this city's
ancient magnificence. On the sea-shore is an old ruined castle, and some
remains of a small mole.
_March 19._—Leaving Beirout, we came in one-third of an hour to a large
plain extending from the sea to the mountains. At the beginning of the
plain is a grove of pine-trees of Faccardine's plantation. We guessed it
to be more than half a mile across; and so pleasant and inviting was its
shade, that it was not without some regret that we passed it by.
Continuing in this plain, we saw at a distance, on our left hand, a
small village called Suckfoat. It belongs to the Druses, who possess at
this day a long tract of mountains, as far as from Castravan to Carmel.
Their present prince is Achmet, grandson to Faccardine, an old man, and
one who keeps up the custom of his ancestors of turning day into night,
an hereditary practice in his family, proceeding from a traditional
persuasion amongst them, that princes can never sleep securely but by
day, when men's actions and designs are best observed by their guards,
and, if need be, most easily prevented; but that in the night it
concerns them to be always vigilant, lest the darkness, aided by their
sleeping, should give traitors both opportunity and encouragement to
assault their persons, and by a dagger or a pistol to make them continue
their sleep longer than they intended when they lay down.
Two hours from Faccardine's grove brought us to the fifth caphar, and
another little hour to the river Damer or Tamyras, the former being its
modern, the latter its ancient name. It is a river apt to swell much
upon sudden rains; in which case, precipitating itself from the
mountains with great rapidity, it has been fatal to many passengers.
Amongst the rest, one Monsieur Spon, nephew to Dr. Spon, coming from
Jerusalem about four years ago, in company with some English gentlemen,
in passing this stream, was hurried down by it, and perished in the sea,
which lies about a furlong lower than the passage.
We had the good fortune to find the river in a better temper, its waters
being now assuaged since the late rains. However, the country fellows
were ready here, according to their trade, to have assisted us in our
passage over; in order to which, they had very officiously stripped
themselves naked against our coming; and to the end that they might
oblige us to make use of their help, for which they would be well paid,
they brought us to a place where the water was deepest, pretending there
was no other passage besides that, which cheat we saw them actually
impose upon some other travellers, who came not long after us. But we
had been advised of a place a little higher in the river, where the
stream was broader and shallower, and there we easily passed without
their assistance. Just by this place are the ruins of a stone bridge, of
which one might guess by the firmness of its remains that it might have
been still entire, had not these villains broke it down, in order to
their making their advantages of passengers, either conducting them over
for good pay, or else, if they have opportunity, drowning them for their
spoils.
On the other side of the river, the mountains approach closer to the
sea, leaving only a narrow rocky way between. From Damer, in two hours,
we came to another river of no inconsiderable figure, but not once
mentioned by any geographer that I know of. It is within one hour of
Sidon. Its channel is deep, contains a good stream, and has a large
stone bridge over it. Speaking of this river to the reverend father
Stephano, Maronite patriarch at Canobine, he told me it was called Awle,
and had its fountain near Berook, a village in Mount Libanus.
At this river we were met by several of the French merchants from Sidon,
they having a factory there the most considerable of all theirs in the
Levant. Being arrived at Sidon, we pitched our tents by a cistern
without the city, but were ourselves conducted by the French gentlemen
to the place of their habitation, which is a large khan close by the
sea, where the consul and all the nation are quartered together. Before
the front of this khan is an old mole running into the sea with a right
angle; it was of no capacity at best, but now is rendered perfectly
useless, having been purposely filled up with rubbish and earth by
Faccardine, to prevent the Turkish galleys from making their unwelcome
visits to this place. The mole being thus destroyed, all ships that take
in their burden here are forced to ride at anchor under the shelter of a
small ridge of rocks about a mile distant from the shore, on the north
side of the city. Sidon is stocked well enough with inhabitants, but is
very much shrunk from its ancient extent, and more from its splendour,
as appears from a great many beautiful pillars that lie scattered up and
down the gardens without the present walls. Whatever antiquities may at
any time have been hereabout, they are now all perfectly obscured and
buried by the Turkish buildings. Upon the south side of the city, on a
hill, stands an old castle, said to have been the work of Louis IX. of
France, surnamed the saint; and not far from the castle is an old
unfinished palace of Faccardine's, serving, however, the pasha for his
seraglio, neither of them worth mentioning, had the city afforded us any
thing else more remarkable. Near about Sidon begin the precincts of the
Holy Land, and of that part of it in particular which was allotted to
Asher; the borders of which tribe extended from Carmel as far as Great
Zidon, as appears from Josh. xix. 26, 28. But the people upon the
sea-coast were never actually mastered by the Israelites, being left by
the just judgment of God to be thorns in their sides, for a reason that
may be seen in Judges, ii. 1-3, &c.
The person who is the French consul at Sidon has also the title of
consul of Jerusalem, and is obliged by his master, the French king, to
make a visit to the holy city every Easter, under pretence of
preserving the sanctuary there from the violations, and the friars who
have the custody of it from the exactions, of the Turks. But the friars
think themselves much safer without this protection. We were desirous to
join with Monsieur l'Empereur, the present consul, in this year's
pilgrimage, and, accordingly, had sent him a letter from Aleppo on
purpose to bespeak that favour, hoping by his protection to pass more
securely from the abuses of the Arabs and Turks, who are nowhere so
insolent as in Palestine and about Jerusalem. We had his promise to stay
for us; but the remoras and disappointments we met with on the road had
put us so backward in our journey, that, fearing to be too late at
Jerusalem, he set out from Sidon the day before our arrival there,
leaving us, however, some hopes, that if we made the best of our way we
might come up with him at Acra, where he promised to expect our coming
to the latest moment.
_March 20._—Being desirous, therefore, not to lose the convenience of
his company, we set out early the next morning from Sidon, and,
travelling in a very fruitful plain, came in half an hour to a place
where we found a large pillar of granite lying across the high way, and
sunk a good part under ground. Observing some letters upon it, we took
the pains to dig away the earth, by which means we recovered this
fragment of an inscription:—
IMPERATORES
CAESARES
L SEPTIMUS SE
VERUS PIUS PER
TINAX AUG: ARA
BICUS ADIABENICUS
PARTHICUS MAXI
MUS TRIBUNICIA
POTES: VI. IMP: XI. COS []
PRO . COS . P . P
ET M . AUREL: ANTONI
NUS AUG: FILIUS . EJUS
........ ET ..... ARIA
.... EN ... DIUM . RV
FVM .............
.... IC PR: PRAET
... PROVINC . SYRIAE
[ET PHAE] NIC RENOVAVERUNT
. [ ] .
Some gentlemen of our nation, in their journey to Jerusalem this last
Easter, anno 1699, found another pillar, about midway between the one we
saw and Sidon, of the same make and use, from which they took the
aforesaid inscription more perfectly. As far as _filius ejus_ there is
no variation, and after that it goes on thus:—
VIAS ET MILLIARIA
FR ... O . VENIDIVMRV
FVM . LEG . AUGG .
L ... PR . PRÆSIDEM
PROVINC . SYRIAEPHOE
NIC . RENOVAVERUNT
. I .
By which we may observe the exactness of the Romans in measuring out
their roads, and marking down upon every pillar the number of miles, as
I. II. III., &c.
A little beyond this pillar, we passed in sight of Ko-ri-e, a large
village on the side of the mountains, and in two hours and a half more
came to Sarphan, supposed to be the ancient Sarephath, or Sarepta, so
famous for the residence and miracles of the prophet Elijah. The place
shown us for this city consisted of only a few houses on the tops of the
mountains, within about half a mile of the sea; but it is more probable
the principal part of the city stood below, in the space between the
hills and the sea, there being ruins still to be seen in that place of
considerable extent. From thence, in three hours, we arrived at
Casimeer, a river large and deep, running down to the sea through a
plain, in which it creeps along with various meanders and turnings. It
had once a good stone bridge laid over it of four arches; but of that
nothing remains at present except the supporters, between which there
are laid beams and boards to supply the room of the arches, and to make
a passage over; but so careless and loose is the fabric, that it looks
like a trap rather than a bridge. We had one horse dropped through,
notwithstanding our utmost care to prevent such misfortunes; but it was
our good luck to recover him again safe on shore.
This river is assigned by our modern geographers for the old Eleutherus,
but how erroneously has been before mentioned. Strabo mentions a certain
river falling into the sea near Tyre, on this side[542], which can be
no other than this, but he omits to acquaint us with its name. Within a
bow-shot of the river Casimeer is a khan of the same name, from which,
keeping near the sea-side, you arrive in an hour at Tyre.
This city, standing in the sea upon a peninsula, promises at a distance
something very magnificent; but, when you come to it, you find no
similitude of that glory for which it was so renowned in ancient times,
and which the prophet Ezekiel describes[543]. On the north side it has
an old Turkish ungarrisoned castle, besides which you see nothing here
but a mere Babel of broken walls, pillars, vaults, &c., there being not
so much as one entire house left. Its present inhabitants are only a few
poor wretches, harbouring themselves in the vaults, and subsisting
chiefly upon fishing, who seem to be preserved in this place by Divine
Providence, as a visible argument how God has fulfilled his word
concerning Tyre, viz. that it should be as the top of a rock, a place
for fishers to dry their nets on[544].
In the midst of the ruins there stands up one pile, higher than the
rest, which is the east end of a great church, probably of the cathedral
of Tyre; and why not the very same that was erected by its bishop
Paulinus, and honoured with that famous consecration sermon of Eusebius,
recorded by himself[545], this having been an archiepiscopal see in the
Christian times?
I cannot, in this place, omit an observation made by most of our company
in this journey, viz. that in all the ruins of churches which we saw,
though their other parts were totally demolished, yet the east end we
always found standing and tolerably entire. Whether the Christians, when
overrun by infidels, redeemed their altars from ruin with money; or
whether even the barbarians, when they demolished the other parts of the
churches, might voluntarily spare these out of an awe and veneration; or
whether they have stood thus long by virtue of some peculiar firmness in
the nature of their fabric; or whether some occult providence has
preserved them as so many standing monuments of Christianity in these
unbelieving regions, and presages of its future restoration, I will not
determine. This only I will say, that we found it, in fact, so as I
described in all the ruined churches that came in our way, being
perhaps not fewer than one hundred; nor do I remember ever to have seen
one instance of the contrary. This might justly seem a trifling
observation were it founded upon a few examples only; but it being a
thing so often, and indeed universally, observed by us, throughout our
whole journey, I thought it must needs proceed from something more than
blind chance, and might very well deserve this animadversion.
But to return from this digression, there being an old staircase in this
ruin last mentioned, I got up to the top of it, from whence I had an
entire prospect of the island, part of Tyre, of the isthmus, and of the
adjacent shore. I thought I could, from this elevation, discern the
isthmus to be a soil of a different nature from the other two, it lying
lower than either, and being covered all over with sand which the sea
casts upon it as the tokens of its natural right to a passage there,
from which it was, by Alexander the Great, injuriously excluded. The
island of Tyre, in its natural state, seems to have been of a circular
figure, containing not more than forty acres of ground. It discovers
still the foundations of a wall, which anciently encompassed it round at
the utmost margin of the land. It makes, with the isthmus, two large
bays, one on its north side and the other on its south. These bays are
in part defended from the ocean, each by a long ridge, resembling a
mole, stretching directly out, on both sides, from the head of the
island; but these ridges, whether they were walls or rocks, whether the
work of art or nature, I was too far distant to discern.
Coming out of these ruins, we saw the foundation of a very strong wall,
running across the neck of land, and serving as a barrier to secure the
city on this side. From this place we were one-third of an hour in
passing the sandy isthmus, before we came to the ground which we
apprehended to be the natural shore. From hence, passing over part of a
very fertile plain, which extends itself to a vast compass before Tyre,
we arrived, in three quarters of an hour, at Ras-el-ayn. Our whole
stage, from Sidon hither, was about eight hours.
_Sunday, March 21._—Ras-el-ayn is a place where are the cisterns called
Solomon's, supposed, according to the common tradition hereabouts, to
have been made by that great king, as a part of his recompense to king
Hiram for the supplies of materials sent by him toward the building of
the temple. They are doubtless very ancient, but yet of a much later
date than what this tradition ascribes to them. That they could not be
built till since Alexander's time may be conjectured from this, amongst
other arguments: because the aqueduct, which conveys the water from
hence to Tyre, is carried over the neck of land by which Alexander, in
his famous siege of this place, joined the city to the continent; and,
as the cisterns cannot well be imagined to be more ancient than the
aqueduct, so one may be sure the aqueduct cannot be older than the
ground it stands upon. Of these cisterns there are three entire at this
day, one about a furlong and a half distant from the sea, the other two
a little farther up.
The former is of an octagonal figure, twenty-two yards in diameter. It
is elevated above the ground, nine yards on the south side and six on
the north; and, within, is said to be of an unfathomable deepness; but
ten yards of line confuted that opinion. Its wall is of no better a
material than gravel and small pebbles; but consolidated with so strong
and tenacious a cement, that it seems to be all one entire vessel of
rock. Upon the brink of it you have a walk round, eight feet broad, from
which, descending by one step on the south side, and by two on the
north, you have another walk twenty-one feet broad. All this structure,
though so broad at top, is yet made hollow, so that the water comes in
underneath the walks, insomuch that I could not, with a long rod, reach
the extremity of the cavity. The whole vessel contains a vast body of
excellent water, and is so well supplied from its fountain that, though
there issues from it a stream like a brook, driving four mills between
this place and the sea, yet it is always brim full. On the east side of
this cistern was the ancient outlet of the water, by an aqueduct raised
about six yards from the ground, and containing a channel one yard wide;
but this is now stopped up and dry, the Turks having broke an outlet on
the other side, deriving thence a stream for grinding their corn.
The aqueduct (now dry) is carried eastward about one hundred and twenty
paces, and then approaches the two other cisterns, of which one is
twelve, the other twenty yards square. These have each a little channel,
by which they anciently rendered their waters into the aqueduct; and so
the united streams of all the three cisterns were carried together to
Tyre. You may trace out the aqueduct all along by the remaining
fragments of it. It goes about one hour northward; and then, turning to
the west at a small mount, where anciently stood a fort, but now a
mosque, it proceeds over the isthmus into the city. As we passed by the
aqueduct we observed in several places, on its sides and under its
arches, rugged heaps of matter resembling rocks. These were produced by
the leakage of the water, which petrified as it distilled from above,
and, by the continual adherence of new matter, were grown to a large
bulk. That which was most remarkable in them was the frame and
configuration of their parts. They were composed of innumerable tubes of
stone, of different sizes, cleaving to one another like icicles. Each
tube had a small cavity in its centre, from which its parts were
projected, in form of rays, to the circumference, after the manner of
the stones vulgarly called thunder-stones.
The fountain of these waters is as unknown as the contriver of them. It
is certain, from their rising so high, they must be brought from some
part of the mountains, which are about a league distant; and it is as
certain that the work was well done at first, seeing it performs its
office so well at so great a distance of time.
Leaving this pleasant quarter we came, in an hour and a half, to the
white promontory, so called from the aspect it yields toward the sea.
Over this you pass by a way about two yards broad, cut along its side,
from which the prospect down is very dreadful, by reason of the extreme
depth and steepness of the mountain, and the raging of the waves at
bottom. This way is about one-third of an hour over, and is said to have
been the work of Alexander the Great. About one-third of an hour farther
you pass by a heap of rubbish, close by the sea-side, being the ruins of
the castle Scandalium, taking its name from its founder, the same
Alexander, whom the Turks call Scander. The ruin is one hundred and
twenty paces square, having a dry ditch encompassing it; and from under
it, on the side next the sea, there issues a fountain of very fair
water. In an hour from hence you come to the sixth caphar, called
Nachera; and in another hour to the plain of Acra, over a very deep and
rugged mountain, supposed to be part of Mount Saron. All the way from
the white promontory to this plain is exceeding rocky; but here the
pleasantness of the road makes you amends for the former labour.
The plain of Acra (Acre) extends itself, in length, from Mount Saron as
far as Carmel, which is at least six good hours; and in breadth, between
the sea and the mountains, it is in most places two hours over. It
enjoys good streams of water at convenient distances, and every thing
else that might render it both pleasant and fruitful; but this delicious
plain is now almost desolate, being suffered, for want of culture, to
run up to rank weeds, which were, at the time when we passed it, as high
as our horses' backs.
Having travelled about one hour in the plain of Acra, we passed by an
old town called Zib, situate on an ascent close by the sea-side. This
may probably be the old Achzib[546], called afterwards Ecdippa; for St.
Jerome places Achzib nine miles distant from Ptolemais toward Tyre, to
which account we found the situation of Zib exactly agreeing. This is
one of the places out of which the Ashurites could not expel the
Canaanitish natives. Two hours farther we came to a fountain of very
good water, called by the French merchants, at Acra, the fountain of the
blessed Virgin. In one hour more we arrived at Acra. Our whole stage,
from Ras-el-ayn hither, was about eight hours and a half.
Acra had anciently the name of Accho, and is another of the places out
of which the children of Israel could not drive the primitive
inhabitants[547]. Being in after times enlarged by Ptolemy the First, it
was called by him, from his own name, Ptolemais; but now, since it has
been in the possession of the Turks, it has, according to the example of
many other cities in Turkey, cast off its Greek[548], and recovered some
semblance of its old Hebrew name again, being called Acca, or Acra.
This city was for a long time the theatre of contention between the
Christians and infidels, till at last, after having divers times changed
its masters, it was, by a long siege, finally taken by the Turks, and
ruined by them in such a manner as if they had thought they could never
take a full revenge upon it for the blood it had cost them, or
sufficiently prevent such slaughters for the future. As to its
situation, it enjoys all possible advantages both of sea and land. On
its north and east sides it is compassed with a spacious and fertile
plain; on the west it is washed by the Mediterranean Sea; and on the
south by a large bay, extending from the city as far as Mount Carmel.
But notwithstanding all these advantages, it has never been able to
recover itself since its last fatal overthrow; for, besides a large
khan, in which the French factors have taken up their quarters, and a
mosque, and a few poor cottages, you see nothing here but a vast and
spacious ruin. It is such a ruin, however, as sufficiently demonstrates
the strength of the place in former times. It appears to have been
encompassed, on the land side, by a double wall, defended with towers at
small distances; and without the walls are ditches, ramparts, and a kind
of bastions faced with hewn stone. In the fields without these works we
saw, scattered up and down upon the ground, several large balls of
stone, of at least thirteen or fourteen inches diameter, which were part
of the ammunition used in battering the city, guns being then unknown.
Within the walls there still appear several ruins, which seem to
distinguish themselves from the general heaps by some marks of a greater
strength and magnificence, as, first, those of the cathedral church,
dedicated to St. Andrew, which stands not far from the sea-side, more
high and conspicuous than the other ruins; secondly, the church of St.
John, the tutelar saint of this city; thirdly, the convent of the
Knights Hospitallers, a place whose remaining walls sufficiently testify
its ancient strength; and, not far from the convent, the palace of the
grand master of that order, the magnificence of which may be guessed
from a large staircase and part of a church, still remaining in it;
fourthly, some remains of a large church formerly belonging to a
nunnery, of which they tell this memorable story. The Turks, having
pressed this city with a long and furious siege, at last entered it by
storm, May 19, 1291; in which great extremity the abbess of the nunnery,
fearing lest she, and those under her care, might be forced to submit to
such bestialities as are usual in cases of that deplorable nature, used
this cruel but generous means for securing both herself and them. She
summoned all her flock together, and exhorted them to cut and mangle
their faces as the only way to preserve their virgin purity; and, to
show how much she was in earnest, she immediately began, before them
all, to make herself an example of her own counsel. The nuns were so
animated by this heroical resolution and pattern of the abbess, that
they began instantly to follow her example, cutting off their noses, and
disfiguring their faces with such terrible gashes as might excite
horror, rather than lustful desires, in the beholders, the consequence
of which was, that the soldiers, breaking into the nunnery, and seeing,
instead of those beautiful ladies they expected, such tragical
spectacles, took a revenge for their disappointed lusts by putting them
all to the sword, thus restoring them, as in charity we may suppose, to
a new and inviolable beauty. But, to go on, many other ruins here are of
churches, palaces, monasteries, forts, &c., extending for more than half
a mile in length, in all which you may discern marks of so much strength
as if every building in the city had been contrived for war and
defence[549].
But that which pleased us most at Acra was to find the French consul,
Monsieur l'Empereur, there, who had been so generous as to make a halt
of two days, in expectation of our arrival. But he had stayed to the
utmost extent of his time, and therefore resolved to set forward again
the next morning. Our greatest difficulty was to determine which road to
take; whether that upon the coast by Cæsarea and Joppa, or that by
Nazareth; or a middle way between both the other, over the plain of
Esdraelon.
The cause of this uncertainty was the embroilments and factions that
were then amongst the Arabs, which made us desirous to keep as far as
possible out of the way. It is the policy of the Turks always to sow
divisions amongst these wild people, by setting up several heads over
their tribes, often deposing the old and placing new ones in their
stead, by which art they create contrary interests and parties amongst
them, preventing them from ever uniting under any one prince; which, if
they should have the sense to do (being so numerous and almost the sole
inhabitants thereabouts), they might shake off the Turkish yoke, and
make themselves supreme lords of the country.
But, however useful these discords may be to the Turks in this respect,
yet a stranger is sure to suffer by them, being made a prey to each
party according as he happens to come in their way; avoiding which
abuses, we resolved to take the middle way, as the most secure at this
time.
_March 22._—According to which purpose we set out early the next
morning from Acra, having with us a band of Turkish soldiers for our
securer convoy. Our road lay, for about half an hour, along by the side
of the Bay of Acra; and then, arriving at the bottom of the bay, we
turned southward. Here we passed a small river which we took to be
Belus, famous for its sand, which is said to be an excellent material
for making glass, as also to have ministered the first occasion and hint
of that invention.
Here we began to decline from the sea-coast, upon which we had travelled
so many days before, and to draw off more easterly, crossing obliquely
over the plain, and in two good hours we arrived at its farthest side,
where it is bounded by Mount Carmel. Here you find a narrow valley
letting you out of the Plain of Acra into that of Esdraelon. Hereabouts
is the end of the tribe of Asher, and the beginning of that of Zabulon;
the borders of these two tribes being thus described in Joshua, xix. 26.
Passing through the narrow valley which makes a communication between
the two plains, we arrived in two hours at that ancient river, the river
Kishon; which cuts its way down the middle of the Plain of Esdraelon,
and then, continuing its course close by the side of Mount Carmel, falls
into the sea at a place called Caypha. In the condition we saw it, its
waters were low and inconsiderable; but, in passing along the side of
the plain, we discerned the tracks of many lesser torrents falling down
into it from the mountains, which must needs make it swell exceedingly
upon sudden rains, as doubtless it actually did at the destruction of
Sisera's host[550]. In three hours and a half from Kishon we came to a
small brook, near which was an old village and a good khan called
Legune, not far from which we took up our quarters this night. From this
place we had a large prospect of the Plain of Esdraelon, which is of a
vast extent and very fertile, but uncultivated; only serving the Arabs
for pasturage. At about six or seven hours' distance eastward stood
within view Nazareth, and the two mounts, Tabor and Hermon. We were
sufficiently instructed by experience, what the holy psalmist means by
the dew of Hermon, our tents being as wet with it, as if it had rained
all night. At about a mile's distance from us was encamped Chibly, emir
of the Arabs, with his people and cattle; and below, upon the brook
Kishon, lay encamped another clan of the Arabs, being the adverse party
to Chibly. We had much the less satisfaction in this place, for being
seated in the midst between two such bad neighbours. Our stage this day
was in all eight hours; our course south-east by south, or thereabout.
_March 23._—Leaving this lodging, we arrived in one-third of an hour at
the emir's tents, who came out in person to take his duties of us. We
paid him two caphars[551], viz., one of Lagune, and another of Jeneen,
and besides the caphars, whatever else he was pleased to demand. He
eased us in a very courteous manner of some of our coats, which now (the
heat both of the climate and season increasing upon us) began to grow
not only superfluous, but burdensome.
Getting quit of Chibly we turned out of the plain of Esdraelon, and
entered into the precincts of the half-tribe of Manasses. From hence our
road lay for about four hours through narrow valleys, pleasantly wooded
on both sides. After which, crossing another small fruitful plain, we
came in half an hour to Caphar Arab, where we lodged. Our whole stage
exceeded not five hours; our course being nearly as the day before.
_March 24._—Having paid our caphar, we set out very early the next
morning; and leaving first Arab, and then Rama (two mountain villages),
on the right hand, we arrived in one hour at a fair fountain called
Selee, taking its name from an adjacent village. In one hour more we
came to Sebasta. Here you leave the borders of the half-tribe of
Manasses, and enter into those of the tribe of Ephraim.
Sebasta is the ancient Samaria, the imperial city of the ten tribes,
after their revolt from the house of David. It lost its former name in
the time of Herod the Great, who raised it from a ruined to a most
magnificent state, and called it, in honour of Augustus Cæsar, Sebasta.
It is situate upon a long mount of an oval figure, having first a
fruitful valley, and then a ring of hills running round about it. This
great city is now wholly converted into gardens, and all the tokens
that remain to testify that there has ever been such a place, are only,
on the north side, a large square piazza encompassed with pillars[552];
and on the east some poor remains of a great church, said to have been
built by the empress Helena, over the place where St. John the Baptist
was both imprisoned and beheaded. In the body of the church you go down
a staircase, into the very dungeon where that holy blood was shed. The
Turks (of whom here are a few poor families) hold this prison in great
veneration, and over it have erected a small mosque; but for a little
piece of money they suffer you to go in and satisfy your curiosity at
pleasure.
Leaving Sebasta, we passed in half an hour by Sherack, and in another
half hour by Barseba, two villages on the right hand; and then entering
into a narrow valley lying east and west, and watered with a fine
rivulet, we arrived in one hour at Naplosa.
Naplosa is the ancient Sychem, or Sychar, as it is termed in the New
Testament. It stands in a narrow valley between Mount Gerizim on the
south and Ebal on the north, being built at the foot of the former; for
so the situation both of the city and mountains is laid down by
Josephus[553]. "Gerizim," says he, "hangeth over Sychem;" and "Moses
commanded to erect an altar toward the east, not far from Sychem,
between Mount Gerizim on the right hand (that is to one looking
eastward, on the south), and Hebal on the left[554]" (that is on the
north); which so plainly assigns the position of these two mountains,
that it may be wondered, how geographers should come to differ so much
about it, or for what reason Adrichomius should place them both on the
same side of the valley of Sychem. From Mount Gerizim it was that God
commanded the blessings to be pronounced upon the children of Israel,
and from Mount Ebal the curses[555]. Upon the former, the Samaritans,
whose chief residence is here at Sychem, have a small temple or place of
worship, to which they are still wont to repair at certain seasons, for
performance of the rites of their religion. What these rites are, I
could not certainly learn; but that their religion consists in the
adoration of a calf, as the Jews give out, seems to have more of spite
than of truth in it.
Upon one of these mountains also it was that God commanded the children
of Israel to set up great stones, plastered over and inscribed with the
body of their law; and to erect an altar and to offer sacrifices,
feasting and rejoicing before the Lord[556]. But now, whether Gerizim or
Ebal was the place appointed for this solemnity, there is some cause to
doubt. The Hebrew Pentateuch, and ours from it, assigns Mount Ebal for
the use, but the Samaritan asserts it to be Gerizim.
Our company halting a little while at Naplosa, I had an opportunity to
go and visit the chief priest of the Samaritans, in order to discourse
with him, about this and some other difficulties occurring in the
Pentateuch, which were recommended to me to be inquired about, by the
learned Monsieur Job Ludolphus, author of the Æthiopic History, when I
visited him at Frankford, in my passage through Germany.
As for the difference between the Hebrew and Samaritan copy, before
cited, the priest pretended the Jews had maliciously altered their text,
out of odium to the Samaritans; putting for Gerizim Ebal, upon no other
account, but only because the Samaritans worshipped in the former
mountain, which they would have, for that reason, not to be the true
place appointed by God for his worship and sacrifice. To confirm this,
he pleaded that Ebal was the mountain of cursing[557], and in its own
nature an unpleasant place; but on the contrary Gerizim was the mountain
of blessing by God's own appointment, and also in itself fertile and
delightful, from whence he inferred a probability that this latter must
have been the true mountain, appointed for those religious festivals,
and not (as the Jews have corruptly written it) Ebal. We observed that
to be in some measure true which he pleaded concerning the nature of
both mountains; for, though neither of the mountains has much to boast
of as to their pleasantness, yet, as one passes between them, Gerizim
seems to discover a somewhat more verdant fruitful aspect than Ebal. The
reason of which may be, because, fronting towards the north, it is
sheltered from the heat of the sun by its own shade; whereas, Ebal
looking southward, and receiving the sun that comes directly upon it,
must, by consequence, be rendered more scorched and unfruitful. The
Samaritan priest could not say that any of those great stones which God
directed Joshua to set up were now to be seen in Mount Gerizim, which,
were they now extant, would determine the question clearly on his side.
I inquired of him next what sort of animal he thought those selavæ might
be, which the children of Israel were so long fed with in the
wilderness[558]. He answered they were a sort of fowls; and, by the
description which he gave of them, I perceived he meant the same kind
with our quails. I asked him what he thought of locusts[559], and
whether the history might not be better accounted for, supposing them to
be the winged creatures that fell so thick about the camp of Israel? But
by his answer it appeared he had never heard of any such hypothesis.
Then I demanded of him what sort of plant or fruit the dudaim or (as we
translate it) mandrakes[560] were, which Leah gave to Rachel for the
purchase of her husband's embraces? He said they were plants of a large
leaf, bearing a certain sort of fruit, in shape resembling an apple
growing ripe in harvest, but of an ill savour, and not wholesome. But
the virtue of them was to help conception, being laid under the genial
bed. That the women were often wont so to apply it at this day, out of
an opinion of its prolific virtue. Of these plants I saw several
afterwards in the way to Jerusalem; and, if they were so common in
Mesopotamia as we saw them hereabout, one must either conclude that
these could not be the true mandrakes (dudaim), or else it would puzzle
a good critic to give a reason why Rachel should purchase such vulgar
things at so beloved and contested a price.
This priest showed me a copy of the Samaritan Pentateuch, but would not
be persuaded to part with it upon any consideration. He had likewise the
first volume of the English Polyglot, which he seemed to esteem equally
with his own manuscript.
Naplosa is at present in a very mean condition, in comparison of what it
is represented to have been anciently. It consists chiefly of two
streets, lying parallel, under Mount Gerizim; but it is full of people,
and the seat of a pasha.
Having paid our caphar here, we set forward again in the evening, and,
proceeding in the same narrow valley between Gerizim and Ebal (not above
a furlong broad), we saw on our right hand, just without the city, a
small mosque, said to have been built over the sepulchre purchased by
Jacob of Emmor, the father of Shechem[561]. It goes by the name of
Joseph's Sepulchre, his bones having been here interred after their
transportation out of Egypt[562].
At about one third of an hour from Naplosa, we came to Jacob's Well,
famous not only upon account of its author, but much more for that
memorable conference which our blessed Saviour here had with the woman
of Samaria[563]. If it should be questioned whether this be the very
well that it is pretended for, or no, seeing it may be suspected to
stand too remote from Sychar for women to come so far to draw water, it
is answered, that probably the city extended farther this way in former
times than it does now, as may be conjectured from some pieces of a very
thick wall, still to be seen not far from hence. Over the well there
stood formerly a large church, erected by that great and devout
patroness of the Holy Land, the empress Helena. But of this the voracity
of time, assisted by the hands of the Turks, has left nothing but a few
foundations remaining. The well is covered at present with an old stone
vault, into which you are let down through a very straight hole: and,
then, removing a broad flat stone, you discover the mouth of the well
itself. It is dug in a firm rock, and contains about three yards in
diameter, and thirty-five in depth, five of which we found full of
water. This confutes a story commonly told to travellers who do not take
the pains to examine the well, viz., that it is dry all the year round,
except on the anniversary of that day on which our blessed Saviour sat
upon it, but then bubbles up with abundance of water.
At this well the narrow valley of Sychem ends, opening itself into a
wide field, which is probably part of that parcel of ground given by
Jacob to his son Joseph. It is watered with a fresh stream rising
between it and Sychem, which makes it so exceeding verdant and fruitful,
that it may well be looked upon as a standing token of the tender
affection of that good patriarch to the best of sons[564].
From Jacob's well our road went southward, along a very spacious and
fertile valley. Having passed by two villages on the right hand, one
called Howar, the other Sawee, we arrived in four hours at Khan Leban,
and lodged there. Our whole stage to-day was about eight hours; our
course variable between east and south.
Khan Leban stands on the east side of a delicious vale, having a village
of the same name standing opposite to it on the other side of the vale.
One of these places, either the khan or the village, is supposed to have
been the Lebonah mentioned in Judges, xi. 19, to which both the name and
situation seem to agree.
_March 25._—From Khan Leban our road lay through a more mountainous and
rocky country, of which we had a specimen as soon as we were mounted the
next morning, our first task being to climb a very craggy and difficult
mountain. In three quarters of an hour we left, at some distance on the
right hand, a village called Cinga, and in one hour more, we entered
into a very narrow valley, between two high rocky hills, at the farther
end of which we found the ruins of a village and of a monastery. In this
very place, or hereabouts, Jacob's Bethel is supposed to have been,
where he had his stony couch made easy by that beatifying vision of God,
and of the angels ascending and descending, on a ladder reaching from
earth to heaven[565]. Near this place are the limits separating between
Ephraim and Benjamin[566].
From hence we passed through large olive-yards, and having left first
Geeb and then Selwid (two Arab villages) on the right hand, we came in
an hour and a half to an old way cut with great labour over a rocky
precipice, and in one hour more we arrived at Beer. This is the place to
which Jonathan fled from the revenge of his brother Abimelech[567]. It
is supposed also to be the same with Michmas[568].
Beer enjoys a very pleasant situation, on an easy declivity fronting
southward. At the bottom of the hill it has a plentiful fountain of
excellent water, from which it has its name. At its upper side are the
remains of an old church built by the empress Helena in memory of the
Blessed Virgin, who, when she was in search of the child Jesus, as it is
related[569], came (as tradition adds) to this city, and not finding
him whom her soul loved in the company, she sat down weary and pensive
at so sad a disappointment, in the very place where the church now
stands; but afterwards returning to Jerusalem, she had her maternal
fears turned into joy, when "she found him sitting in the Temple amongst
the doctors, both hearing them, and asking them questions."
All along this day's travel from Khan Leban to Beer, and also as far as
we could see around, the country discovered a quite different face from
what it had before, presenting nothing to the view, in most places, but
naked rocks, mountains, and precipices; at sight of which pilgrims are
apt to be much astonished and baulked in their expectations, finding
that country in such an inhospitable condition, concerning whose
pleasantness and plenty they had before formed in their minds such high
ideas from the description given of it in the Word of God, insomuch that
it almost startles their faith, when they reflect how it could be
possible for a land like this to supply food for so prodigious a number
of inhabitants as are said to have been polled in the twelve tribes at
one time, the number given in by Joab[570] amounting to no less than
thirteen hundred thousand fighting men, besides women and children. But
it is certain that any man who is not a little biassed to infidelity
before, may see, as he passes along, arguments enough to support his
faith against such scruples. For it is obvious for any one to observe,
that these rocks and hills must have been anciently covered with earth
and cultivated, and made to contribute to the maintenance of the
inhabitants, no less than if the country had been all plain; nay,
perhaps much more, forasmuch as such a mountainous and uneven surface
affords a larger space of ground for cultivation than this country would
amount to if it were all reduced to a perfect level.
For the husbanding of these mountains, their manner was to gather up the
stones, and place them in several lines along the sides of the hills in
form of a wall. By such borders they supported the mould from tumbling,
or being washed down, and formed many beds of excellent soil rising
gradually one above another, from the bottom to the top of the
mountains.
Of this form of culture you see evident footsteps, whereever you go, in
all the mountains of Palestine. Thus the very rocks were made fruitful.
And perhaps there is no spot of ground in this whole land that was not
formerly improved, to the production of something or other administering
to the sustenance of human life; for, than the plain countries, nothing
can be more fruitful, whether for the production of corn, or cattle and
consequently of milk. The hills, though improper for all cattle except
goats, yet being disposed into such beds as aforesaid described, served
very well to bear corn, melons, gourds, cucumbers, and such like garden
stuff, which makes the principal food of these countries for several
months in the year. The most rocky parts of all, which could not well be
adjusted in that manner for the production of corn, might yet serve for
the plantation of vines and olive trees, which delight to extract, the
one its fatness, the other its sprightly juice, chiefly out of such dry
and flinty places. And the great plain joining to the Dead Sea, which,
by reason of its saltness, might be thought unserviceable both for
cattle, corn, olives, and vines, had yet its proper usefulness for the
nourishment of bees and for the fabric of honey, of which Josephus gives
us his testimony[571]. And I have reason to believe it, because, when I
was there, I perceived in many places a smell of honey and wax as strong
as if one had been in an apiary. Why, then, might not this country very
well maintain the vast number of its inhabitants, being in every part so
productive of either milk, corn, wine, oil, or honey, which are the
principal food of these eastern nations, the constitution of their
bodies, and the nature of their clime, inclining them to a more
abstemious diet than we use in England and other colder regions? But I
hasten to Jerusalem.
Leaving Beer, we proceeded as before, in a rude stony country, which yet
yielded us the sight of several old ruined villages. In two hours and
one-third we came to the top of a hill, from whence we had the first
prospect of Jerusalem, Rama, anciently called Gibeah of Saul, being
within view on the right hand, and the plain of Jericho and the
mountains of Gilead on the left. In one hour more we approached the
walls of the holy city; but we could not enter immediately, it being
necessary first to send a messenger to acquaint the governor of our
arrival, and to desire liberty of entrance, without which preceding
ceremony no Frank dares come within the walls. We therefore passed along
by the west side of the city, and coming to the corner above Bethlehem
gate, made a stop there, in order to expect the return of our messenger.
We had not waited above half an hour, when he brought us our permission,
and we entered accordingly at Bethlehem gate. It is required of all
Franks, unless they happen to come in with some public minister, to
dismount at the gate, to deliver their arms, and enter on foot; but we,
coming in company with the French consul, had the privilege to enter
mounted and armed. Just within the gate, we turned up a street on the
left hand, and were conducted by the consul to his own house, with most
friendly and generous invitations to make that our home as long as we
should continue at Jerusalem. Having taken a little refreshment, we went
to the Latin convent, at which all Frank pilgrims are wont to be
entertained. The guardian and friars received us with many kind
welcomes, and kept us with them at supper, after which we returned to
the French consul's to bed. And thus we continued to take our lodging at
the consul's, and our board with the friars, during our whole stay at
Jerusalem.
_March 26._—The next day, being Good-Friday in the Latin style, the
consul was obliged to go into the Church of the Sepulchre, in order to
keep his feast, whither we accompanied him, although our own Easter was
not till a week after theirs. We found the church doors guarded by
several Janizaries, and other Turkish officers, who are placed here to
watch that none enter in but such as have first paid their appointed
caphar. This is more or less according to the country or the character
of the persons that enter. For Franks it is ordinarily fourteen dollars
per head, unless they are ecclesiastics, for in that case it is but half
so much.
Having once paid this caphar, you may go in and out gratis as often as
you please during the whole feast, provided you take the ordinary
opportunities in which it is customary to open the doors; but if you
would have them opened at any time out of the common course, purposely
for your own private occasion, then the first expense must be paid
again.
The pilgrims being all admitted this day, the church doors were locked
in the evening, and opened no more till Easter-day, by which we were
kept in a close, but very happy confinement, for three days. We spent
our time in viewing the ceremonies practised by the Latins at this
festival, and in visiting the several holy places, all which we had
opportunity to survey, with as much freedom and deliberation as we
pleased.
And now, being got under the sacred roof, and having the advantage of so
much leisure and freedom, I might expatiate in a large description of
the several holy places which this church (as a cabinet) contains in it;
but this would be a superfluous prolixity, so many pilgrims having
discharged this office with so much exactness already, and especially
our learned sagacious countryman Mr. Sandys, whose descriptions and
draughts, both of this church and also of the other remarkable places in
and about Jerusalem, must be acknowledged so faithful and perfect, that
they leave very little to be added by aftercomers, and nothing to be
corrected. I shall content myself, therefore, to relate only what passed
in the church during this festival, saying no more of the church itself
than just what is necessary to make my account intelligible.
The church of the Holy Sepulchre is founded upon Mount Calvary, which is
a small eminence or hill upon the greater Mount Moriah. It was anciently
appropriated to the execution of malefactors, and therefore shut out of
the walls of the city as an execrable and polluted place; but since it
was made the altar on which was offered up the precious and all
sufficient sacrifice for the sins of the whole world, it has recovered
itself from that infamy, and has been always reverenced and resorted to
with such devotion by all Christians, that it has attracted the city
around about it, and stands now in the midst of Jerusalem, a great part
of the hill of Sion being shut out of the walls to make room for the
admission of Calvary.
In order to the fitting of this hill for the foundation of a church, the
first founders were obliged to reduce it to a plain area, which they did
by cutting down several parts of the rock, and by elevating others; but,
in this work, care was taken that none of those parts of the hill which
were reckoned to be more immediately concerned in our blessed Lord's
passion should be altered or diminished. Thus that very part of Calvary
where they say Christ was fastened to, and lifted upon, his cross, is
left entire, being about ten or twelve yards square, and standing, at
this day, so high above the common floor of the church, that you have
twenty-one steps or stairs to go up to its top; and the holy sepulchre
itself, which was at first a cave hewn into the rock under ground,
having had the rock cut away from it all round, is now, as it were, a
grotto above ground.
The church is less than one hundred paces long, and not more than sixty
wide; and yet is so contrived that it is supposed to contain under its
roof twelve or thirteen sanctuaries, or places consecrated to a more
than ordinary veneration, by being reputed to have some particular
actions done in them relating to the death and resurrection of Christ.
As, first, the place where he was derided by the soldiers; secondly,
where the soldiers divided his garments; thirdly, where he was shut up
whilst they digged the hole to set the foot of the cross in, and made
all ready for his crucifixion; fourthly, where he was nailed to the
cross; fifthly, where the cross was erected; sixthly, where the soldier
stood that pierced his side; seventhly, where his body was anointed in
order to his burial; eighthly, where his body was deposited in the
sepulchre; ninthly, where the angels appeared to the women after his
resurrection; tenthly, where Christ himself appeared to Mary Magdalen,
&c. The places where these and many other things relating to our blessed
Lord are said to have been done, are all supposed to be contained within
the narrow precincts of this church, and are all distinguished and
adorned with so many several altars.
In galleries round about the church, and also in little buildings
annexed to it on the outside, are certain apartments for the reception
of friars and pilgrims; and in these places almost every Christian
nation anciently maintained a small society of monks, each society
having its proper quarter assigned to it by the appointment of the
Turks, such as the Latins, Greeks, Syrians, Armenians, Abyssinians,
Georgians, Nestorians, Cophtites, Maronites, &c., all which had
anciently their several apartments in the church; but these have all,
except four, forsaken their quarters, not being able to sustain the
severe rents and extortions which their Turkish landlords impose upon
them. The Latins, Greeks, Armenians, and Cophtites keep their footing
still; but of these four the Cophtites have now only one poor
representative of their nation left; and the Armenians are run so much
in debt that it is supposed they are hastening apace to follow the
examples of their brethren, who have deserted before them.
Besides their several apartments, each fraternity have their altars and
sanctuary, properly and distinctly allotted to their own use, at which
places they have a peculiar right to perform their own divine service,
and to exclude other nations from them.
But that which has always been the great prize contended for by the
several sects is the command and appropriation of the holy sepulchre, a
privilege contested with so much unchristian fury and animosity,
especially between the Greeks and Latins, that, in disputing which party
should go into it to celebrate their mass, they have sometimes proceeded
to blows and wounds even at the very door of the sepulchre, mingling
their own blood with their sacrifices, an evidence of which fury the
father guardian showed us in a great scar upon his arm, which he told us
was the mark of a wound given him by a sturdy Greek priest in one of
these unholy wars. Who can expect ever to see these holy places rescued
from the hands of infidels? Or, if they should be recovered, what
deplorable contests might be expected to follow about them, seeing, even
in their present state of captivity, they are made the occasion of such
unchristian rage and animosity.
For putting an end to these infamous quarrels, the French king
interposed, by a letter to the grand vizer, about twelve years since,
requesting him to order the holy sepulchre to be put into the hands of
the Latins, according to the tenor of the capitulation made in the year
1673, the consequence of which letter, and of other instances made by
the French king, was that the holy sepulchre was appropriated to the
Latins. This was not accomplished till the year 1690, they alone having
the privilege to say mass in it; and though it be permitted to
Christians of all nations to go into it for their private devotions, yet
none may solemnize any public office of religion there but the Latins.
The daily employment of these recluses is to trim the lamps, and to make
devotional visits and processions to the several sanctuaries in the
church. Thus they spend their time, many of them for four or six years
together; nay, so far are some transported with the pleasing
contemplations in which they here entertain themselves, that they will
never come out to their dying day, burying themselves (as it were) alive
in our Lord's grave.
The Latins, of whom there are always about ten or twelve residing at the
church, with a president over them, make every day a solemn procession,
with tapers and crucifixes, and other processionary solemnities, to the
several sanctuaries, singing at every one of them a Latin hymn relating
to the subject of each place. These Latins being more polite and exact
in their functions than the other monks here residing, and also our
conversation being chiefly with them, I will only describe their
ceremonies, without taking notice of what was done by others, which did
not so much come under our observation.
Their ceremony begins on Good Friday night, which is called by them the
_nox tenebrosa_, and is observed with such an extraordinary solemnity
that I cannot omit to give a particular description of it.
As soon as it grew dusk, all the friars and pilgrims were convened in
the chapel of the apparition (which is a small oratory on the north side
of the holy grave, adjoining to the apartments of the Latins), in order
to go in a procession round the church; but, before they set out, one of
the friars preached a sermon in Italian in that chapel. He began his
discourse thus: "In questa notte tenebrosa," &c., at which words all the
candles were instantly put out, to yield a livelier image of the
occasion; and so we were held by the preacher for near half an hour,
very much in the dark. Sermon being ended, every person present had a
large lighted taper put into his hand, as if it were to make amends for
the former darkness; and the crucifixes and other utensils were disposed
in order for beginning the procession. Amongst the other crucifixes
there was one of a very large size, which bore upon it the image of our
Lord, as big as the life. The image was fastened to it with great nails,
crowned with thorns, besmeared with blood; and so exquisitely was it
formed, that it represented in a very lively manner the lamentable
spectacle of our Lord's body as it hung upon the cross. This figure was
carried all along in the head of the procession, after which the company
followed to all the sanctuaries in the church, singing their appointed
hymn at every one.
The first place they visited was that of the pillar of flagellation, a
large piece of which is kept in a little cell just at the door of the
chapel of the apparition. There they sung their proper hymn; and another
friar entertained the company with a sermon in Spanish, touching the
scourging of our Lord.
From hence they proceeded in solemn order to the prison of Christ,
where they pretend he was secured whilst the soldiers made things ready
for his crucifixion. Here, likewise, they sung their hymn, and a third
friar preached in French. From the prison they went to the altar of the
division of Christ's garments, where they only sung their hymn, without
adding any sermon. Having done here, they advanced to the chapel of the
derision, at which, after their hymn, they had a fourth sermon (as I
remember) in French.
From this place they went up to Calvary, leaving their shoes at the
bottom of the stairs. Here are two altars to be visited, one where our
Lord is supposed to have been nailed to his cross, another where his
cross was erected. At the former of these they laid down the great
crucifix (which I but now described) upon the floor, and acted a kind of
a resemblance of Christ's being nailed to the cross; and after the hymn
one of the friars preached another sermon, in Spanish, upon the
crucifixion.
From hence they removed to the adjoining altar, where the cross is
supposed to have been erected, bearing the image of our Lord's body. At
this altar is a hole in the natural rock, said to be the very same
individual one in which the foot of our Lord's cross stood. Here they
set up their cross, with the bloody crucified image upon it; and,
leaving it in that posture, they first sung their hymn, and then the
father guardian, sitting in a chair before it, preached a passion-sermon
in Italian.
At about one yard and a half distance from the hole in which the foot of
the cross was fixed, is seen that memorable cleft in the rock, said to
have been made by the earthquake which happened at the suffering of the
God of Nature, when (as St. Matthew witnesseth[572]) "the rocks rent,
and the very graves were opened." This cleft, as to what now appears of
it, is about a span wide at its upper part, and two deep, after which it
closes; but it opens again below, as you may see in another chapel
contiguous to the side of Calvary, and runs down to an unknown depth in
the earth. That this rent was made by the earthquake that happened at
our Lord's passion, there is only tradition to prove; but that it is a
natural and genuine breach, and not counterfeited by any art, the sense
and reason of every one that sees it may convince him; for the sides of
it fit like two tallies to each other, and yet it runs in such intricate
windings as could not well be counterfeited by art, nor arrived at by
any instruments.
The ceremony of the passion being over, and the guardian's sermon ended,
two friars, personating the one Joseph of Arimathea, the other
Nicodemus, approached the cross, and, with a most solemn and concerned
air, both of aspect and behaviour, drew out the great nails, and took
down the feigned body from the cross. It was an effigy so contrived that
its limbs were soft and flexible, as if they had been real flesh; and
nothing could be more surprising than to see the two pretended mourners
bend down the arms, which were before extended, and dispose them upon
the trunk in such a manner as is usual in corpses.
The body, being taken down from the cross, was received in a fair, large
winding sheet, and carried down from Calvary, the whole company
attending as before, to the stone of unction. This is taken for the very
place where the precious body of our Lord was anointed and prepared for
the burial[573]. Here they laid down their imaginary corpse, and casting
over it several sweet powders and spices, wrapped it up in the winding
sheet. Whilst this was doing they sung their proper hymn; and afterwards
one of the friars preached, in Arabic, a funeral sermon.
These obsequies being finished, they carried off their fancied corpse
and laid it in the sepulchre, shutting up the door till Easter morning;
and now, after so many sermons and so long, not to say tedious,
a ceremony, it may well be imagined that the weariness of the
congregation, as well as the hour of the night, made it needful to go to
rest.
_March 27._—The next morning nothing extraordinary passed, which gave
many of the pilgrims leisure to have their arms marked with the usual
ensigns of Jerusalem. The artists who undertake the operation do it in
this manner. They have stamps in wood of any figure that you desire,
which they first print off upon your arm with powder of charcoal; then,
taking two very fine needles tied close together, and dipping them
often, like a pen, in certain ink, compounded, as I was informed, of
gunpowder and ox-gall, they make with them small punctures all along the
lines of the figure which they have printed, and then, washing the part
in wine, conclude the work. These punctures they make with great
quickness and dexterity, and with scarce any smart, seldom piercing so
deep as to draw blood.
In the afternoon of this day, the congregation was assembled in the area
before the holy grave, where the friars spent some hours in singing over
the lamentations of Jeremiah, which function, with the usual procession
to the holy places, was all the ceremony of this day.
_Sunday, March 28._—On Easter morning the sepulchre was again set open
very early. The clouds of the former morning were cleared up, and the
friars put on a face of joy and serenity, as if it had been the real
juncture of our Lord's resurrection; nor doubtless was this joy feigned,
whatever their mourning might be, this being the day in which their
Lenten discipline expired, and they were come to a full belly again.
The mass was celebrated this morning just before the holy sepulchre,
being the most eminent place in the church, where the father guardian
had a throne erected, and being arrayed in episcopal robes, with a mitre
on his head, in the sight of the Turks, he gave the host to all that
were disposed to receive it, not refusing children of seven or eight
years of age. This office being ended, we made our exit out of the
sepulchre, and returning to the convent, dined with the friars.
After dinner, we took an opportunity to go and visit some of the
remarkable places without the city walls; we began with those on the
north side.
The first place we were conducted to was a large grotto, a little
without the Damascus gate, said to have been some time the residence of
Jeremiah. On the left side of it is shown the prophet's bed, being a
shelf on the rock, about eight feet from the ground; and not far from
this is the place where they say he wrote his Lamentations. This place
is at present a college of dervises, and is held in great veneration by
the Turks and Jews, as well as Christians.
The next place we came to was those famous grottoes called the
Sepulchres of the Kings, but for what reason they go by that name is
hard to resolve; for it is certain none of the kings, either of Israel
or Judah, were buried there, the Holy Scriptures assigning other places
for their sepulchres, unless it may be thought, perhaps, that Hezekiah
was here interred, and that these were the sepulchres of the sons of
David, mentioned in 2 Chron. xxx. 33. Whoever was buried here, this is
certain, that the place itself discovers so great an expense, both of
labour and treasure, that we may well suppose it to have been the work
of kings. You approach to it at the east side, through an entrance cut
out of the natural rock, which admits you into an open court of about
forty paces square, cut down into the rock with which it is encompassed
instead of walls. On the south side of the court is a portico nine paces
long and four broad, hewn likewise out of the natural rock. This has a
kind of architrave running along its front, adorned with sculpture of
fruits and flowers, still discernible, but by time much defaced. At the
end of the portico on the left hand you descend to the passage into the
sepulchres. The door is now so obstructed with stones and rubbish, that
it is a thing of some difficulty to creep through it. But within, you
arrive in a large fair room, about seven or eight yards square, cut out
of the natural rock. Its sides and ceiling are so exactly square, and
its angles so just, that no architect with levels and plummets could
build a room more regular; and the whole is so firm and entire, that it
may be called a chamber hollowed out of one piece of marble. From this
room you pass into (I think) six more, one within another, all of the
same fabric with the first. Of these the two innermost are deeper than
the rest, having a second descent of about six or seven steps into them.
In every one of these rooms, except the first, were coffins of stone
placed in niches in the sides of the chambers. They had been at first
covered with handsome lids, and carved with garlands, but now most of
them were broke to pieces by sacrilegious hands. The sides and ceiling
of the room were always dropping with the moist damps condensing upon
them; to remedy which nuisance, and to preserve these chambers of the
dead dry and clean, there was in each room a small channel cut in the
floor, which served to drain the drops that fall constantly into it.
But the most surprising thing belonging to these subterraneous chambers
was their doors, of which there is only one that remains hanging, being
left, as it were, on purpose to puzzle the beholders. It consisted of a
plank of stone of about six inches in thickness, and in its other
dimensions equalling the size of an ordinary door, or somewhat less. It
was carved in such a manner as to resemble a piece of wainscot. The
stone of which it was made was visibly of the same kind with the whole
rock, and it turned upon two hinges in the nature of axles. These hinges
were of the same entire piece of stone with the door, and were contained
in two holes of the immoveable rock, one at the top, the other at the
bottom.
From this description it is obvious to start a question,—how such doors
as these were made, whether they were cut out of the rock in the same
place and manner as they now hang, or whether they were brought and
fixed in their station like other doors? One of these must be supposed
to have been done; and which soever part we choose as most probable, it
seems at first glance to be not without its difficulty. But thus much I
have to say, for the resolving of this riddle (which is wont to create
no small dispute amongst pilgrims), viz., that the door which was left
hanging did not touch its lintel by at least two inches, so that I
believe it might easily have been lifted up and unhinged; and the doors
which had been thrown down had their hinges at the upper end twice as
long as those at the bottom, which seems to intimate pretty plainly by
what method this work was accomplished.