SHARON.
The preceding chapters bring down the history of the Survey to the end
of the campaign of 1872. In the winter Mr. Drake’s health became so much
affected that he was obliged to try the effect of a sea voyage to Egypt.
Thus, on the 1st of February, he left me alone for a month. On the 26th
I marched out from Haifa, and again took the field, our intention being
to fill in the broad tract of plain and low hills between Carmel and
Jaffa, and from the sea to the Samaritan mountains previously surveyed.
Our first camp was at a village not marked on any map and much wanted,
for it was known that a place called Geba of Horsemen, which Herod’s
veterans colonised, must have existed near Carmel, and here we found the
required spot in the present Jeb’a at the foot of the hill.
All round us were places of interest. The village had rock-cut tombs,
and a fine olive-grove, amongst the trees of which sat the little
“boomehs,” or Athenian owls only some ten inches high. By day their
peculiar cry, a sort of mew, is the only indication of their
lurking-place, but by night their big eyes can be seen in the branches.
To the south-east we discovered a large volcanic outbreak at Ikzim,
which appears to have been a submarine crater according to the
geologist’s verdict on our specimens.
To the west was ’Athlît, amongst the ruins of which we spent several
days measuring and planning. This place was one of the most famous
Crusading strongholds of Palestine. It was built by the Templars in
1218, and a contemporary description of their work exists. Jaques de
Vitry describes the outer enceinte, the ditch and strong wall, built
across the neck of the promontory, and protecting the town on the east.
He notices the two great towers behind, of which only a single wall,
belonging to the northern one, remains; he speaks of the church now
destroyed, and of the great vaults still existing. Thus we have here a
dated specimen of Gothic architecture in Palestine, and the magnificent
ruins are worthy of the great order which erected the fortress. The
place was called Pilgrim’s Castle by the knights, and long resisted
every effort of the Moslems to capture it. Only in 1291, just before the
fall of Acre, was it finally lost to the Christians, and with its
capture the last hopes of the Christian dominion in the country were
overthrown. The chronicler describes the huge stones, which could
scarcely be dragged by a yoke of oxen; and to the wheels of the carts,
which brought the blocks from the quarry for the walls, we may ascribe
the deep ruts in the soft rock, on the roads leading from the quarried
cliff on the east, towards the town. Here also we have proof that the
Crusaders themselves hewed stones with a marginal draft and a rude
rustic boss, for no old materials are used up in ’Athlît, and drafted
stones occur even in the voussoirs of the pointed arches.
Just outside this position is a little fort with a rock-cut ditch and
rock-hewn stables with mangers still in place. It is called Dustrey, and
the name is a corruption of District or Destroit, the name of a little
tower which the Templars, in 1218, found guarding a narrow passage in
the rocks. The passage was called “House of Narrow Ways,” and is
mentioned as near the camping ground of Richard Lion-Heart on his march
southwards to Jaffa.
’Athlît then was the point where the pilgrims of the thirteenth century
landed. Their road was protected for them, both towards Nazareth and
towards Jerusalem, by chains of forts still remaining at distances of an
easy day’s journey.
It is curious to observe how many ancient sites the Crusaders grouped
round the Pilgrim’s Castle. The religious devotee was shown, as soon as
he landed, no less than three famous places--ancient Tyre, Capernaum,
Meon (the home of Nabal),--and probably Sarepta also; of these the true
sites were separated by distances of many days’ journey, in parts not
held by the Christians, and one is tempted to suppose that design,
rather than ignorance, was the true cause why they were so grouped.
Caipha (or Haifa) just north was shown as a place where Simon Peter used
to fish. ’Athlît itself was called ancient Tyre, perhaps because near a
place named Tîreh, and Sarepta was possibly shown at Surafend close by.
Meon was here placed because a confusion existed, in the Crusading mind,
between Carmel, the city of the south of Judah whence Abigail came, and
Mount Carmel, the scene of Elijah’s sacrifice. But, stranger still,
Capernaum was shown in the same district, for reasons not easy to
penetrate. The place is mentioned more than once, and Benjamin of Tudela
speaks of its distance from Haifa, by means of which we are able to
identify it with a village near ’Athlît, now called Kefr Lâm. Capernaum
was a fortress, and remains of its towers and walls still exist; but
there is nothing to show whether it was supposed to be the real town of
our Lord, or merely a place of similar name.
These places, and many other ruins of interest, lie in the narrow plain
extending twenty miles south of the Carmel promontory. This plain
suddenly enlarges to more than double its width, or to about nine miles,
south of the Nahr ez Zerka, or Crocodile River; and a cliff above the
beautiful springs, whence this stream is fed near Mâmâs, forms the end
of the Carmel block. The Zerka is a deep perennial stream, fringed with
rushes and full of Syrian papyrus, forming a blue pool in one place
where it is dammed across to collect its waters, and thence rushing
down, even in autumn, in a strong stream to the sea; its mouth is
guarded by a Crusading fort, and near it are the remains of a Crusading
bridge. North and south of the stream there are large marshes, full of
tamarisk and of tall canes. The clear springs, under the hills, are
perennial, and by them are remains of a Roman theatre at Mâmâs, which
has been converted later into a fortress. This stream has been known
from the time of Strabo and Pliny as the Crocodile River, and in it the
crocodile still exists, being, according to general native evidence,
unknown in any other stream in Palestine.
On the sides of Carmel we discovered also a ruin called Semmaka, or the
“Sumach tree,” where are remains of what seems to me to have been
undoubtedly a synagogue. The dimensions and ornamentation of the lintel
stones and pillars reproduce exactly those of the Galilean synagogues;
and the place is a very likely one, as the town of Haifa has been a
favourite residence of the Jews, from the time of Christ to the present
day.
The district we now entered is rarely visited by travellers. The natives
are savage and unruly, and the Government finds much difficulty in
repressing their internal feuds. They are robbers and murderers, and we
were astonished at the number of skulls and bones, in the old tombs,
until we found that many were fractured, and we were told that they had
belonged to persons murdered by the villagers. In one case I entered a
Jewish sepulchre, the door of which was open, and found, to my horror,
some six newly-interred corpses, lying on the floor in various
directions, not with the right side and face to Mecca according to the
proper form of sepulture among Moslems. These corpses therefore belonged
apparently to strangers recently murdered.
Early in March, Drake returned and remained with us until the 1st of
May, when he left for England and did not rejoin us until October. Thus,
for the greater part of the year 1873, I was working with the only
assistance of my excellent sergeant and corporal.
The weather was still uncertain. On the night of our arrival at Jeb’a,
we had a heavy thunderstorm: again on the 18th of March we had, in a
single storm, no less than 1·74 inches of rain. Yet, notwithstanding
this, it was a pleasant time, for the air was cool and fresh, the hills
carpeted with wild flowers, and the country round the camp full of
objects of interest.
On the 21st of March we struck our tents, and marched south to Kannîr,
on the edge of the Plain of Sharon, and opposite to Cæsarea, nine miles
away. Scarcely had we settled down in our new position, when on the 15th
the equinoctial gales came upon us, and found us in a bare flat field,
without the shelter of either houses or trees.
The district west of camp was all plain, and to the east were the lower
slopes of the “breezy land.” Both the slopes and the plain were covered
with an open forest of oaks, less dense than that on the Nazareth hills,
but of finer trees; and this woodland is the last remains of the great
forest of Sharon, which is mentioned by Strabo as a “mighty wood.” The
scenery is very pretty, and the streams, of which there are three
between the Zerka and the ’Aujeh near Jaffa (all noticed in the march of
the English in 1191 under King Richard), are, even in autumn, full of
water.
The famous rose of Sharon (Cant. ii. 1) is apparently the beautiful
white narcissus, so common on the plain in spring. The Jews themselves,
in their Targum commentaries, so explain the word, and the modern name
Buseil, used by the peasantry, is radically identical with the Hebrew
title in the Bible. The “lily of the valleys” is probably the blue iris
which is now called Zembakîyeh in Palestine.
From Kannîr we visited the magnificent remains of Cæsarea, lying low
among the broad dunes of rolling, drifted sand, and so hidden on the
land side as only to be seen when within a mile of the walls. The survey
of the ruins occupied nearly a week, the principal points of interest
only can here be touched upon.
Cæsarea is one of Herod’s cities, completed in 13 B.C. on the old site
of Strato’s Tower. The magnificence of Herod’s work at Samaria, Ascalon,
Antipatris, and above all at this seaport town, probably far surpassed
that of any of the work of the kings of Israel and Judah, excepting
Solomon’s great walls at Jerusalem. It is instructive, therefore, to
note how little is left of Herod’s buildings, for if of erections so
solid and large, constructed at so comparatively recent a period, there
remain now but scattered fragments, surely it is most unreasonable to
expect an explorer to unearth the “Ivory House” of Ahab (even allowing
this to have been a palace at all), or to recover the Calves of Bethel,
and the Ark of the Covenant.
At Cæsarea we are brought face to face with another vexed question--the
reliability of Josephus. Some Writers have extolled the Jewish historian
as a model of almost infallible veracity, but a reaction against this
exaggerated view has led to a depreciation of the author, which seems to
be now very general. Where authorities are so few, it is surely
dangerous to underrate their value: but the question with regard to
Josephus is a double one. First, did he write truthfully? secondly, is
the present text free from corruption? To this we may often add the
inquiry how far are arguments drawn from Whiston’s faulty translation,
rather than from the original Greek?
That the present text is often corrupt, there is abundant evidence to
prove. That Josephus wrote descriptions which he knew to be exaggerated,
it is more difficult to show. Eastern descriptions always lack the
exactitude which belongs to the Western mind, and hyperbole seems to be
inseparable, in Eastern thought, from elegant description. In the case
of Josephus, also, personal feeling undoubtedly interferes. On visiting
the spot, one cannot fail to notice how exaggerated is his description
of Jotopata, which he defended, and how the ingrained conceit of the
Semitic mind appears in his account of his own doings; but at Masada we
shall have cause to admire the fidelity of his detailed account of the
fortress.
It must also be noticed that far greater correctness of detail is to be
found (as would naturally be expected) in his descriptions of events
occurring, and of places existing, during his own lifetime, and that for
this reason his first production--the Wars, is far more valuable than
his compilation of the Antiquities, though even in this he draws from
early sources external to the Old Testament.
Here at Cæsarea we have a description of the port and public buildings
which contains undoubted inaccuracies. He represents the port as equal
in size to the Piræus, but it measures scarcely two hundred yards across
either way, whilst the famous harbour of Athens was three quarters of a
mile long and over six hundred yards in breadth. Josephus also speaks of
the mole on the south side of the harbour as being “two hundred feet.”
This can hardly mean in length, for the present measure is more than a
hundred and thirty yards, and, if he means in breadth, the estimate is
exaggerated, for the greatest width at present is eighty-five feet.
Thus, without taking any notice of the great length given for the stones
sunk to form part of the breakwater, we find that Josephus estimates the
harbour as equal to one of twenty times its capacity, and the mole at
over double its real width. It must indeed be remembered that he wrote
neither at Cæsarea nor at Piræus, and that exact surveys had then no
existence. Yet this case is sufficient to prove that the measurements
twice given (Ant. xv. 9, B.J. i. 21) are unreliable, and the
descriptions exaggerated.
In shape the port of Cæsarea was not unlike the Piræus. The southern
mole was adorned with towers, and had three colossi at the end,
supported on two huge blocks of stone; on the north side a reef ran out,
and was also adorned with three colossi on a tower. A temple of white
stone stood opposite the mouth of the port, and of this the foundations
appear still to exist--a wall with niches for statues, well worthy of
examination as being of white stones, whilst all the other buildings are
of brown-coloured masonry. In this temple were colossal statues of Cæsar
and of Rome.
An amphitheatre, still remaining, was also built, to the south by the
sea, capable of holding, as Josephus says, a vast number, for its
diameter is 560 feet, and it could contain 20,000 persons. The theatre
appears to have been within its circuit, where it still remains, but the
hippodrome, over 1000 feet long, seems unnoticed by the historian. It is
to the east, and in it are the remains of a goal post of granite, a
magnificent truncated cone seven feet six inches high, once standing
apparently on a base, a single block of red granite thirty-four feet
long. How such blocks were moved it is difficult to imagine; nor was the
material to be obtained in Palestine, being a fine kind of granite, so
hard that the peasantry endeavouring to cut the stele into millstones,
have only penetrated a few inches into the stone.
The wall of the Roman town was traced, and found to embrace an area of
four hundred acres; but Crusading Cæsarea was much smaller, being only
about thirty acres, within a rectangle of six hundred yards by two
hundred and fifty.
Cæsarea was considered, after the fall of Jerusalem, to be the capital
of Palestine. Sometimes it was spoken of as part of the “land” by the
Jews, sometimes it was excluded. Jews, Syrians, and Samaritans dwelt in
it, and the place was the scene of many bloody feuds between them. In
the Talmud the port (Leminah), and the famous promenade along the mole
are noticed, but I find no ancient account of the great aqueducts which
brought water to the city, otherwise supplied only by a single well. One
of these is carried from springs on the Carmel hills, a distance of
eight miles, on arches with a double channel, and is perhaps the finest
engineering work in the country, evidently of Roman origin; the second,
or low level, brings water from the pool above the dam in the Crocodile
River. The manner in which the rocky ridge along the coast is pierced,
and long rock-staircases cut down to the tunnel, with the separation of
the two channels when crossing the great marshes, are indications of
high scientific education in the builders. The native tradition says
that the two aqueducts were made, by two daughters of a king, for a
wager as to who should first convey water to the capital.
The history of Cæsarea is one of many vicissitudes. It became a
bishopric in 200 A.D., and was the home of Origen and of Eusebius. The
Franks took it in 1001, when the green glass dish, called “the Holy
Grail,” was found by the Genoese. Saladin conquered it in the fatal year
1187; but its walls were again erected by Gautier d’Avesnes, in 1218,
and the place was taken back by the Moslems the same year. Ten years
later it was again taken, and again fell. In 1251 it was re-fortified by
St. Louis; but the invincible Bibars destroyed it in 1265. The
restorations of St. Louis are still plainly distinguishable from the
older work of Gautier.
On the south side of the town the Crusading towers project into the sea
along the great mole, and stand probably on the site of Herod’s tower
Drusus. On the north the pillars of the Roman town have been used up to
form a long jetty, running parallel with the reefs; and other shafts
have, as at Ascalon, been built into the walls. On the top of the
southern hill, within the Crusading walls, are the foundations of the
fine cathedral, and to the north is a second smaller church. These are
the only public buildings which remain distinguishable, and the whole
extent, within the Roman enceinte, is now but a mass of fallen masonry,
excepting the dark, dismantled towers and scarps of the
thirteenth-century fortress, and the shapeless tower on the mole.
In our rides to and from Cæsarea, we constantly had reason to admire the
faint, harmonious colouring of the wild flowers on the untilled plain.
Cæsarea was surrounded by fields of the yellow marigold, which produced
a bad kind of hay-fever, and gilded our legs in riding. Ancient ruins in
Palestine are, in spring, easily distinguished, by the growth of this
plant, and of the marsh-mallow. Other flowers were also conspicuous--the
red pheasant’s eye, in some cases as big as a poppy; blue pimpernels,
moon-daisies, the lovely phlox, gladioles, and huge hollyhocks. Swarms
of “painted-lady” butterflies fluttered over the mallows; the hoopoes
had just arrived, and were fanning their crests up and down in the oak
boughs; the storks were solemnly marching over the plain; and the air
was full of the white-footed lesser kestrel, also a migratory bird.
Early in April the corn was ripening under the oaks; but a great portion
of the plain is covered with marshes, among which the Ghawarni Arabs,
who are almost independent, have their camps. The tracks through the
boggy land are known only by themselves, and the government is thus
unable to do more than inflict a poll-tax on them. Here the shaggy brown
buffaloes might often be seen sunk, like hippopotami, in the deep, muddy
stream, the nose and horns only visible--for the peculiar set of the
neck allows the head to be extended quite horizontally, the nose, ears,
and eyes in line, as in the hippopotamus.
We made diligent inquiry as to the crocodiles, and visited Abu Nûr, the
miller on the river. He took us up a ladder into the loft above the
mill, where we sat in state on carpets, as he prepared coffee, our eyes
blinded with wood-smoke, and our ears deafened with the whirl of the
mill-wheel. The old man promised to do all in his power--“Inshallah,” he
would get us a crocodile. He also criticised my riding-whip, which he
pronounced good, but not equal to one he had seen, which could also be
used as a chair and umbrella, with a sword-blade inside.
The Arabs and Turkomans of the plain are rich in flocks and herds. Long
lines of the Syrian fat-tailed sheep, black goats, and small red oxen
covered the plain. The rich people in the hills had sent down their
horses for spring grazing, and camps were pitched, round which forty or
fifty fine horses were picketed, feeding on the grass and flowers. Here
also I noticed the peculiar fashion of sewing the ears of donkey colts
together, to make them stand up, and of splitting the cows’ ears, so
that they appear to have two pairs of horns as well as ears.
On the 8th of April we moved south to Zeita, on the edge of the hills.
From this camp no discoveries of much importance were made; but we
visited two Crusading towers which formed fine stations in the
plain--one at Kâkôn, a place mentioned, in 1160, by Benjamin of Tudela,
as being the ancient Keilah; the second at Kŭlŭnsaweh (which means
“mitred”), where is a beautiful hall, probably part of the Castle of
Plans, built by the Templars in 1191.
On one of our expeditions along the coast from Mukhâlid, we perceived,
to our astonishment, unknown rocks or islands out at sea. Soon, however,
I saw that our islands were moving, and came to the conclusion that
they were drifting wrecks or rafts, wrecked vessels being very common
all along this harbourless coast; but presently the blocks broke up and
soared into the air; they were two large flocks of pelicans, rocking on
the summer sea.
The country near the coast was here all of blown sand, with scattered
bushes, and, farther inland, are dunes of semi-consolidated red
sandstone. Near Jaffa there are low oak-bushes, which spring from the
roots of a forest, now entirely felled; and, east of our camp, an open
woodland exists, with a ruin called Umm es Sûr, “mother of the wall.” In
this name we see probably remains of Assur, the name of a forest near
the coast, through which the English and the Templars fought their way
before arriving at Arsûf, during the famous march of Richard Lion-Heart.
The Emîr of the Howârith Arabs was camped near us, and pressed us to
visit his tent, which was pitched in the middle of the plain among
coarse grass and thistles--a low black camel’s-hair cloth stretched over
rude poles, and the sides closed in with reed matting. The women’s
apartment was on the north, shut off with matting; on the south and west
the tent was open. Carpets were spread, and gay-coloured pillows strewn
on the ground. The Emîr’s black slave, Sheikh Saleh, and a little black
demon, his head all shaven except the _shûsheh_, or top-knot, took our
horses. The Emîr was not content with our sipping coffee; he insisted on
our eating salt with him. A sound of grinding arose behind the matting,
and two good-looking women in the dark blue, sweeping, long-sleeved
robes peculiar to Bedawin, went off to fetch water, with large jars
balanced on their heads. The elders of the tribe sat, half asleep,
around us, one being remarkable for a fine pair of silver-mounted
pistols.
Other guests began soon to arrive, on good grey mares. The young men
were shaved, all but their mustachios, and gaily dressed, having red
leather top-boots with tassels. One had baggy trousers of chocolate
colour, and the usual square lambskin jacket, wool inside, which is worn
in winter; in his hand was a spear, fifteen feet long. They alighted,
touching head, lips, and heart to the Emîr, who clasped their hands and
kissed them on each cheek. The Arabs do not, as a rule, actually kiss,
but lay their foreheads together and make a sound of kissing with their
mouths.
The Bedawin are immensely superior to the peasantry in politeness and
quietness of manner. Life in the country of the Arabs is really nearer
civilisation, in many respects, than that among the villagers, and
nothing is a greater error than to speak of the Bedawin as savages. My
pleasantest expeditions were always those among the “houses of hair,”
and with the wild Arabs we had far less difficulty in dealing than with
the Fellahin.
The conversation was curious. We gave the Emîr our staple bit of
astonishing information, that the English Queen had more Moslems under
her rule than the Sultan; and he inquired how long we had ruled India.
One of the elders disagreed with our reply, and said the English had
held it only forty-five years. The Emîr made him a cutting answer, and
he collapsed.
About one p.m. dinner appeared. A wooden bowl, nearly four feet in
diameter, was carried in on a mat. It was piled with rice and portions
of roast lamb just killed, with bread and vegetables below, and melted
butter over all. We despised the three brass spoons, and, washing our
right hands, boldly plunged them in, squeezing the rice into balls. A
negro attended with a green glass tumbler of water. As soon as we
retired, hungry Arabs slowly filled the vacant places, at the invitation
of the Emîr, who only tasted a few mouthfuls until his guests were fed.
The dogs licked up the scraps, and the calves walked in and lay by us in
the shade. Soap and water, coffee and tobacco followed, and we retired,
sending a small tin of gunpowder to our host in the evening.
Our camp was not a pleasant one; the peasantry were surly, and the Arabs
dangerous. Almost every night attempts were made to steal our horses and
mules, and were only frustrated by the vigilance of Habib, who lay, gun
in hand, by the line of tethered animals, and fired on the thieves more
than once. The place was also infested with scorpions, and I was stung
by one in six places along the leg, before I could get off my
riding-breeches in which it had hidden. Habib licked the bitten places
carefully, having, as he assured me, once eaten a scorpion, and thus
obtained the power of healing the stings; this is a common idea among
the natives; the stings were certainly less painful than on a former
occasion.
The view from the Mukhâlid camp was very extensive; the Carmel ridge and
the Mahrakah peak were plainly seen, with the whole broken line of the
watershed blue in the distance, and white villages on little knolls,
sharply defined against the shadow of the long flat curve of Ebal; the
crater of Sheikh Iskander, with the lower plateau to the north, was
distinctly shown against the sky-line, and, yet more distant, appeared
the Safed mountains and a silver thread of snow on Hermon, one hundred
miles away. To the south, the eye roamed over low sand-dunes with
patches of red and of bright yellow, with a few scattered oaks, over
corn-land, and, farthest off, a long line of cliff, with a promontory on
which the town of Jaffa was seen distinctly. Thus the panorama from
Hermon to Jaffa embraced a distance of 120 miles.
On the 7th we marched up into the hills, to a place called Kefr Zîbâd,
and experienced a frightfully hot sirocco. The treeless plain was
scorched with heat, the flowers all dead and the corn all reaped. The
grey hills, the olives, houses, and ruins, had a fossilised appearance,
and, over all, a terrible leaden sky was spread; the poor dogs hid from
the sun in the thorny bushes, and had to be thrown into every pond that
was passed to cool them.
Next day was as bad, but, on the 9th, the fresh breeze from the sea came
back, and the work became less arduous. The country was one scarcely
visited before by Europeans, and the villagers were in some cases so
alarmed by our appearance and our arms, that they fled in the greatest
terror; but a report got about that we were sent by the Sultan, to see
which of the villages had become ruinous, and hence we became
favourites, and every possible ruin in the village lands was shown to us
with the greatest eagerness, as it was supposed that taxes would be
remitted in proportion to the amount of desolation.
At one place called Bâka the great gig umbrella over the theodolite
attracted much attention; and here, as at Kâkôn, the chief delight to
elderly men was a peep through the theodolite telescope.
“What do you see, O father?” cried the less fortunate who crowded round
the observer.
“I see Hammad and his cows, two hours off, as if he were close here!”
replied the delighted elder.
Here also we were near Kûr, the head-quarters of another of the great
native families like our old friends the Jerrâr; and the head of the
house--which is called Beit Jiyûs, came to see me with some twenty
followers. My knowledge of Arabic was still most rudimentary, and I
found conversation very difficult; but the old man was quite happy,
staring at all the European novelties, and exclaiming at all he saw and
heard: “O prophet! O Lord Mohammed! Mashallah!”
The business connected with certain prisoners taken from a tribe which
had attacked Corporal Armstrong on the 3rd May, near Mukhâlid, now took
me to Nâblus. It appeared that all the offenders had been allowed to
leave prison, apparently in consequence of monetary arrangements with
persons in authority; yet no sooner was it understood that I was to be
expected in Nâblus, than they were recaptured and produced for me to
see. The Deputy-Governor invited me to attend their examination by the
Mejlis, or Town Council, where a curious scene was presented. The Kâdi
sat on a diwân, in the whitewashed room serving as a justice hall--a
stout man (Kâdis become fat for a well-known reason), his eyelids
drooping, his dress a long robe striped yellow and white, with a short
blue cloth jacket and the huge white turban--emblem of superior holiness
and incorruptibility; and by him, a thin clerk, in a red fezz and white
clothes. The military element was represented by a colonel in blue, with
gold sleeves, his frock-coat unbuttoned, as is usual with Turkish
officers. Other members were less remarkable. Mr. Elkarey, the
missionary, kindly escorted me, and interpreted for me. The majesty of
the council was upheld by a guard at the door, and a smart sergeant in
black would have been almost European in appearance, but for a green
silk comforter over his coat.
Two prisoners, both horribly squalid in appearance, were brought up.
They did not deny that they belonged to the Nefei’at, or “club-bearing
Arabs.” One was a very short man, his face dreadfully pitted by
small-pox, and with only one eye; the second, a very tall, thin man, of
a Don Quixote type of face, with beautiful white teeth. Evidence was
first taken of the two together, then of each separately, by which means
their various versions were made to prove contradictory. The tall man
wept and wrung his hands; the little man held up a corner of his shirt,
and shook it, to testify his innocence, repeating many times that he
“feared God.” The Kâdi inquired whether they were Howareth dogs,
Belauneh dogs, or Nefei’at dogs, and invoked destruction on most of
their relations. The other councillors shouted all at one time, and some
stood up on the diwân, after which fresh pipes and coffee were brought.
A witness was called, and, while he was coming, the case of a big miller
and his man was taken up; and in the middle of it in came the old
high-priest of the Samaritans, looking like Moses in Millais’ picture,
attired in coffee colour, with the crimson turban, and accusing a debtor
of defrauding him of a shilling, which the latter denied, winking at the
judge in secret. Presently the Vice-Governor came in, a man of
peculiarly sanctimonious appearance, and notoriously corrupt. The
shouting was then redoubled, three cases apparently being all tried and
decided at once.
The scene was a farce as far as justice was concerned, but the policy
which always appeared to me best was to insist only on imprisonment, and
to make sure this was actually enforced, leaving it to the authorities
to inflict some sort of monetary punishment, without my asking for
fines, well knowing that once in prison, a Syrian does not get out
without paying something to somebody. This line of conduct made us quite
popular with some governors, whose incomes were ridiculously small.
On Friday, the 23rd of May, we again marched south, and suffered even
more than in the last move. First of all, no camels could be got, until
the Sheikh of the village had been solemnly warned of the result of
disobeying the Sultan’s firman; then, all the long day through, a
scorching sirocco blew from the east, and the road was almost
impassable, across valleys a thousand feet deep, including the great
boundary of Kânah. The heat was even worse next day, the glass being
over 106° F. in the shade; at Gaza, the same day, it stood at 118°,
while in Beyrout most of the mulberry-trees were killed by the wind, and
the silk crop failed. On the third day, the Sunday, I was waked in the
afternoon by a churning noise, and saw a whirlwind coming rapidly
through the olive-grove towards the camp, tearing up the thorny plants,
the stubble, dust, and small stones, whilst all round a dead calm
prevailed. Fortunately, its path was to one side of the tents, and it
passed by without doing any damage. Next morning the fresh west wind
returned, and surveying became once more a possibility.
The country round us was some of the wildest in Palestine. The villagers
had never before seen a Frank, and on the maps it is almost a blank. The
hills were stony, but very fine groves of beautiful old olive-trees
existed all round the villages.
Here, on the 30th of May, I received an addition to the party, by the
arrival of Corporal Brophy, R.E.
Many fine ruins existed round us, showing that it is probably to the
agency of man, rather than to the gradual action of weather, that the
utter destruction of ruins in more accessible parts of Palestine is to
be ascribed.
A good instance of the valuable finds made by the Survey party in this
unknown district, is that of the ruin called Deir Serûr. Here we
discovered the site of an important town, with public buildings of good
masonry, and rock-cut tombs, evidently a place of great importance. This
conspicuous site is not marked on any modern map, nor described by any
previous traveller, so far as I have been able to find. On a map of the
last century, an episcopal town of the fifth century called Sosura, is,
however, shown in just the position of this ruin of Serûr, and the
character of the buildings seems to agree with this identification.
At Kurâwa we found also a rock-cut sepulchre, with a classic façade,
rivalling any of those at Jerusalem, and apparently to be attributed to
the first or second century of the Christian era; yet, on this fine
monument, there is not a single letter of inscription to tell the names
of its former occupants. These are but single instances of the large
number of interesting discoveries, in central Palestine, which are
stored up in the memoir of the map.
On the 3rd of June we moved again south, and crossed the most difficult
valley we had yet encountered. It was nearly a thousand feet deep, and
only a narrow goat-walk led down its precipitous sides, above which
hangs the fine ruin called Deir Kŭl’ah, the “Convent Castle.”
This valley forms the boundary between Judea and Samaria, and runs into
the plain near Râs el ’Ain. We were obliged to follow its course
westward for some distance before it became possible to take the
pack-animals up the other side.
Our new camp at Rentîs was in more open ground, and but little remained
to be done in order to join on to the old limits of the Survey on the
south. A hole in the work was, however, here left in the plain which
weather forbade our attempting to fill in, and, as nearly all our horses
were laid up with sore-back and lameness, the summer rest, which we had
now earned, came none too soon to save the party from demoralisation.
Two places of great interest came within our district from the Rentîs
camp, namely, Tibneh, in the hills to the east, and Râs el ’Ain to the
west: the first supposed by some to represent Timnath Heres, the
burial-place of Joshua; the second, Antipatris, built by Herod the
Great.
Tibneh is a ruined site on one of the great Roman roads from Lydda and
Râs el ’Ain to Jerusalem. A mound, or Tell, stands on the south bank of
a deep valley, surrounded with desolate mountains; by it, a clear spring
issues from a cave; to the south-west is a beautiful oak-tree, the
largest I saw in Palestine, called by the natives Sheikh et Teim, “the
Chief, the Servant of God.” South of the Tell, the hillside is hollowed
out with many tombs, most of which are choked up. One of these has a
porch with two rude pilasters, and along the façade are over two hundred
niches for lamps; the trailing boughs of the bushes above hang down
picturesquely, and half cover the entrance. Within there are fifteen
Kokim, or graves, and through the central one it is possible to creep
into a second chamber, with only a single Koka. Other tombs exist
farther east, one having a sculptured façade; but the tomb described is
the one popularly supposed to be that of Joshua.
It seems to me very doubtful how far we can rely on the identity of the
site with that of Timnath Heres. It is certain that this is the place
called Timnatha by Jerome, a town of importance, capital of a district
in the hills, and on the road from Lydda to Jerusalem, the position of
which is fixed by references to surrounding towns. But the Jewish
tradition, and also that of the modern Samaritans, points to Kefr Hâris
as the burial-place of Joshua, as already noticed in Chapter II. It is
remarkable, however, that a village called Kefr Ishw’a, or “Joshua’s
hamlet,” exists in the immediate neighbourhood of the ruin of Tibneh.
With regard to Antipatris, we have fortunately far greater certainty;
but the place is of less interest, being mentioned in the Bible only as
the limit of St. Paul’s night journey from Jerusalem (Acts xxiii. 31).
It was well known in the fourth century, but its site was lost to the
Crusaders, who identified it at Arsûf, the ancient Apollonia, where also
the more ignorant supposed Ashdod to have stood. It is only within the
last twenty years that attention has been directed to the true site.
Josephus describes Antipatris as a city in the plain, close to the
hills, in a position well watered, with a river encompassing the city,
and with groves of trees. Now, as there is but one river in the plain of
Sharon, anywhere, near the required part, and as there is on that river
but one important ancient site, surrounded by water and near the hills,
we can have little doubt as to the locality of the town, first
apparently identified by the late Consul Finn, in 1850; but, in addition
to this, we have, in the old itineraries, various measurements to
surrounding places which, though not quite exact, still serve to
indicate the same site. They are as follows:
R.M. R.M.
Antipatris to Galgula (_Kalkilia_) 6, measures 6½
Antipatris to Lydda 10, “ 11½
Antipatris to Betthar (_Tireh_) 10, “ 9¼
Antipatris to Cæsarea 28, “ 30½
These measurements on the Survey bring us to the Râs el ’Ain, a large
mound covered with ruins, from the sides of which, on the north and
west, the River ’Aujah (the Biblical Mejarkon, or “yellow water”) gushes
forth, a full-sized stream.
A confusion has arisen between Antipatris and a town called Caphar Saba,
in consequence of the loose description, given by Josephus, of a ditch
dug by Alexander Balas, “from Cabarzaba, now called Antipatris,” to
Joppa (Ant. xiii. 15, 1); but the same author afterwards explains that
Caphar Saba was a district name, applied to the plain near Antipatris
(Ant. xvi. 5, 2).
In the Talmud, the two towns, Antipatris and Caphar Saba, are both
noticed in a manner which leaves little doubt that they were separate
places. Of Antipatris, we learn that it was a town on the road from
Judea to Galilee, the boundary of “the Land” on the side of Samaria;
and, as I have noted above, the great boundary valley actually runs into
the plain at this point. But while Antipatris was a Jewish city, Caphar
Saba was in the district which was considered foreign ground, as within
Samaritan territory; and an idolatrous tree existed there, perhaps now
represented by the great sacred tree at Neby Serâkah, close to Kefr
Sâba, five and a half miles north of Râs el ’Ain.
Antipatris, with two other places, Jishub and Patris, is mentioned as a
station at the entrance to “the King’s Mountain,” as the Jews called the
Judean hills. This agrees with its situation at the base of the hills,
the other places being, perhaps, Sûfin and Budrus, in the same district.
The site thus fixed, by the Survey measurements, is one naturally better
fitted for an important town than any in the district. The name has
indeed vanished, being a Greek title derived from the name of Herod’s
father, and always awkward to the mouths of the natives; but the stream,
the mound of ruins, and the neighbouring hills, remain; the deep blue
pools of fresh water well up close beneath the hillock, surrounded by
tall canes and willows, rushes, and grass. A sort of ragged lawn extends
some two hundred yards southwards, and westwards the stream flows
rapidly away, burrowing between deep banks, and rolling to the sea, a
yellow, turbid, sandy volume of water, unfordable in winter, and never
dry, even in summer.
The ruins of Herod’s city are now covered with the shell of a great
Crusading castle. The knights seem to have taken the name Mirr, or
“Passage,” applied to a hamlet near the ford, and transformed it into
Mirabel, by adding “bel,” a word which occurs in the names of several of
their fortresses, such as Belfort, Belvoir, etc. The castle is flanked
with round towers, and resembles that of Capernaum (near ’Athlît), on a
larger scale. It was here that Manasseh, the cousin of Queen Melisinda,
was besieged, in 1149, by Baldwin III., and obliged to capitulate. In
1191 Mirabel was dismantled by Saladin, on the approach of King Richard,
in common with Plans, Capernaum, and many other castles; nor does it
appear to have been subsequently restored.