THE JORDAN VALLEY.
The Jordan Valley is not only the most remarkable feature of Palestine,
but one of the most curious places in the world. It has no exact
counterpart elsewhere, and the extraordinary phenomenon of clouds
sweeping as a thick mist 500 feet below the level of the sea, is one
which few European eyes have seen, but which we witnessed in the early
storms of the spring of 1874.
The Jordan rises as a full-grown river, issuing from the cave at Baniâs,
about 1000 feet above the level of the Mediterranean. In the short
distance of twelve miles it falls not less than 1000 feet, passing
through the papyrus-marshes, and reaching the Huleh Lake. This lake is
four miles long, and from its southern extremity to the north end of the
Sea of Galilee is ten and a half miles. The second lake has been
determined, by our line of levels, as 682 feet below the Mediterranean;
thus in twenty-six and a half miles there is a fall of 1682 feet, or
more than sixty feet to the mile.
The Sea of Galilee is twelve miles and a half long, or about the length
of Windermere, and thence the Jordan flows sixty-five miles measuring in
a straight line (the bends make it a good deal more) to the Dead Sea,
1292 feet below the Mediterranean. The fall in this distance is,
however, not regular. Above the Jisr Mujâmi’a it is over forty feet to
the mile. From the south end of the Sea of Galilee to the Dâmieh ford is
a distance of forty-two miles, and a fall of only 460 feet. From the
Dâmieh to the mouth of Wâdy el ’Aujeh is thirteen miles, with sixty
feet fall, and thence to the Dead Sea is ten miles, with ninety feet of
fall.
It will be seen from above that the total direct length of Jordan is
about 104 miles, or only half the length of the Thames; that the fall to
the Sea of Galilee is over sixty feet to the mile; thence to the Dâmieh,
at first forty feet, afterwards not quite eleven feet per mile; from the
Dâmieh to the ’Aujeh not much over four and a half feet to the mile; and
for the last ten miles, about nine feet per mile. The break down of the
immense chasm may thus be said to commence immediately north of the Sea
of Galilee.
The valley may be divided into eight sections. First the portion between
Banîas and the Huleh, where it is some five miles broad, with steep
cliffs some 2000 feet high on either side and a broad marsh between.
Secondly, from the Huleh to the Sea of Galilee, where the stream runs
close to the eastern hills, and about four miles from the base of those
on the west, which rise towards the high Safed mountains, more than 3500
feet above the lake. Thirdly, for thirteen miles from the south end of
the Sea of Galilee to the neighbourhood of Beisân, the valley is only
one and a half miles broad west of the river, and about three on the
east, the steep cliffs of the plateau of Kaukab el Hawa on the west
reaching an altitude of 1800 feet above the stream.
South of Beisân is the fourth district, with a plain west of Jordan,
twelve miles long and six miles broad, the line of hills on the east
being straight, and the feet of the mountains on this side about two
miles from the river. In the neighbourhood of Beisân the cross section
of the plain shows three levels: that of the shelf on which Beisân
stands, about 300 feet below sea-level; that of the Ghôr itself, some
400 feet lower, reached by an almost precipitous descent; and that of
the Zor, or narrow trench, from half to a quarter of a mile wide, and
about 150 feet lower still. The higher shelf extends westward to the
foot of Gilboa; it dies away on the south, but on the north it gradually
rises into the plateau of Kaukab and to the western table-land above the
Sea of Galilee, 1800 feet above Jordan.
After leaving the Beisân plain, the river passes through a narrow valley
twelve miles long and two to three miles wide, with a raised table-land
to the west, having a level averaging about 500 feet above the sea. The
Beisân plain is full of springs of fresh water, some of which are
thermal, but a large current of salt warm water flows down Wâdy Mâleh,
at the north extremity of this fifth district.
In the sixth district, the Dâmieh region, the valley again opens to a
width of about three miles on the west, and five on the east of Jordan.
The great block of the Kurn Sŭrtŭbeh here stands out like a
bastion, on the west, 2400 feet above the river. Passing this mountain
the seventh district is entered--a broad valley extending from near
Fusâil to ’Osh el Ghŭrâb, north of Jericho. In this region the Ghôr
itself is five miles broad, west of the river, and rather more on the
east; the lower trench or Zor is also wider here and more distinctly
separated from the Ghôr. A curious geographical feature of this region
was also discovered by the Survey party. The great affluents of the
Fâr’ah and ’Aujeh do not flow straight to Jordan, but turn south about a
mile west of it, and each runs, for about six miles, nearly parallel
with the river; thus the mouth of the Fâr’ah is actually to be found
just where that of the next valley is shown on most maps. This curious
feature was not discovered even by Captain Warren, and nothing more
surprised me, in surveying the district, than the unsuspected parallel
course of the streams. The whole of the valley in the seventh region is
full of salt springs and salt marshes, but the Fâr’ah, flowing from the
Ænon springs, is a perennial stream of fresh water.
The eighth and last district is that of the plain of Jericho, which with
the corresponding basin (Ghôr-es-Seisebân) east of Jordan, measures over
eight miles north and south, and more than fourteen across, with Jordan
about in the middle. The Zor is here about a mile wide, and some 200
feet below the broad plain of the Ghôr.
To sum up shortly the regions thus enumerated. First we have the Huleh
marshes; secondly, the basin of the Sea of Galilee; thirdly, the narrow
gorge of Kaukab; fourthly, the plain of Beisân; fifthly, the narrow
valley below the Bukei’a of Tûbâs; sixthly, the broader region of the
Fâr’ah; seventhly, the wide Fusâil Valley; eighthly, the great basin of
the Jericho plain; in short, four broad regions connected by two narrow
ones, with a marshy lake and valley highest of all, suggestive, as a
glance at the map will show, of a former chain of great lakes connected
by a river, which have gradually dwindled in area till three small
sheets of water alone remain, with the broad dry beds of two others,
represented by the Beisân and Jericho basins.
The question thus suggested of the original formation of this great
chasm, is not only interesting in itself, but it has a direct bearing on
that of the position of the Cities of the Plain.
Various causes of the great depression of the valley have been
suggested, among which the action of glaciers has been one of the
latest. M. Lartet, the French geologist, was, I believe, the first to
point out the clear indications of a great fault or crack, extending all
along the valley, which has, in fact, slid down towards the centre of
the earth. Special observations were, however, much wanted, and we were
able to supply these all along the western side, where apparently they
were the most necessary.
To enter into the details of these observations would be impossible in
the present work. I propose to sum up the results which seem to me most
important, and which I have submitted to geologists for criticism.
The main reason for conjecturing the existence of a fault, is that the
formations on the east and west are not the same. On the west we have
strata of the age of the English chalk, which dip down very suddenly
towards the centre of the valley. On the east we have the Nubian
sandstone, with hard limestone above it geologically coeval with our
greensand. The section of the present bed of the Dead Sea tells the same
story; the deepest part is towards the east, where there is more than
ten times the depth of water found near the western shore, and here the
mountains rise almost sheer from the lake, while on the west, a
succession of steps occurs between the sea and the watershed.
The precise manner in which the slopes of the Palestine watershed fall
towards the Ghôr differs in the different regions, but in principle it
is the same throughout; there is everywhere a violent contortion of the
strata, sometimes forming a fault or fissure running north and south,
and sometimes a sharp dip down eastwards. We first studied the section
above the Bukei’a, near Mar Saba, and here, as I have before noticed,
there appears to be a well-defined fault. In the neighbourhood of Fusâil
I found the rocks tilted up at an angle of 30°, and the same violent
contortion has formed the great fissure of Wâdy el Hamâm, west of the
Sea of Galilee. The Fâr’ah Valley is a great rent seemingly due to the
same causes, and thus the whole of the geological evidence goes
apparently to prove the occurrence of a violent and probably sudden
collapse of the whole Jordan Valley commencing north of the Sea of
Galilee.
This depression must have taken place at a comparatively late geological
period; all the cretaceous rocks had been deposited before it occurred,
for their strata all dip down east, on the west side of the valley.
There are even the means of fixing the period pretty exactly, for there
are marine formations deposited on the cretaceous rocks which seem to
have no dip, namely, the coloured marls and bituminous limestones which
occur at Neby Musa, and again at the edge of the plain of Beisân, in the
first case 200 feet higher than the Mediterranean, in the latter, 200
feet below that level; these strata are, I believe, attributed to the
Eocene period. It appears that even at an earlier epoch the region was
bituminous: the latest of the cretaceous formations disturbed by the
depression contain bitumen which seems to have been once liquid, and,
near Masada, there are even black bituminous stalactites on the rock.
The Eocene coloured marls contain innumerable fossils, and the formation
appears to have been deposited under water. It is probable that in
Eocene times the Dead Sea reached up nearly to Hermon, and to the Red
Sea, with which the Mediterranean must have been then in full
connection, as the Isthmus of Suez had not then been formed.
A further change was wrought still later, for the convulsions which were
accompanied by the great outflow of lava which has covered so large a
district west and north of the Sea of Galilee, and in the Lejja country,
are, I believe, dated by geologists as of the Tertiary period, and in
one place the lava appeared to me to overlie the coloured marls. The
chain of Gilboa, Little Hermon, and Tabor, with the Galilean hills, have
all been more or less affected by this volcanic disturbance, and perhaps
the depression of the valley may then have increased still more.
The valley having sunk to its present depression, the melting snows of
Hermon probably began to pour into it, and as the chasm had now no
outlet (the watershed of the ’Arabah on the south having been raised
about 800 feet above sea-level), a large salt lake must have formed at
its southern end; the history of the sheets of water then occupying the
distance of 150 miles, appears to be recorded in the formations now
found in the valley.
The present north shore of the Dead Sea is a shingly beach, with a ridge
of pebbles at the top of a somewhat steep slope. Some thirty feet above
the high-water mark a second similar beach may be seen inland; and about
a hundred feet above the water is a third. There can be little doubt
that we see in these raised beaches former limits of the lake. Above the
beaches, some 300 feet higher than the water, there are flat shelves of
marl with steep slopes much worn by water-action. These marls are
deposited against the high Dolomitic cliffs, the tops of which are about
the level of the Mediterranean. The shelves (the “Sidd” of the Arabs)
have also been recognised as former shores of the sea, and this level
may be called the Siddim level.
When the marl beds are closely investigated they are found to consist of
very thin strata of various materials, mud, small pebbles, and shingle,
in layer above layer, strongly impregnated with salt and bitumen. They
have the appearance of being deposited in still, deep water, and the
present bottom of the Dead Sea must be of much the same character. The
whole area over which they occur, reaching up the Jordan Valley for
about four miles, is so salt that no vegetation will grow upon it; thus
there is every reason to regard these formations as once forming the
bottom of a lake resembling the present Dead Sea.
But our observations were carried still farther. North of Jericho is a
curious terrace, in form not unlike a croquet-ground on a large scale,
called Meidân el ’Abd, “the open place of the slave” (or perhaps better
“the barren plateau”). The study of the Dead Sea beaches shows, by
comparison, that this is another old shore-line of a former sea, and, a
little south of it, there is a cliff of conglomerate, which has also the
appearance of a shore formation. The line of this former beach runs
south, to the marl deposits which have been formed at the foot of
Kŭrŭntŭl; thus we find yet another level some 600 or 700 feet
below the Mediterranean, forming the shore at a time when the plains of
Jericho were under water, and when the Dead Sea must have reached to the
foot of the Sŭrtŭbeh, or eighteen miles farther north than at
present. The shelf on which Beisân stands looks like another similar
shore-line, and thus, perhaps, the Beisân plain was also, at this
period, under water.
From these observations we infer the gradual desiccation of the Jordan
Valley; the Beisân Lake and the Jericho end of the Dead Sea having
disappeared. Thus the present lake may be compared to one of the little
pools on its own banks, left by the waves in the hollow of a rock, and
gradually evaporating, surrounded by a crust of dry white salt. Into its
thick oily waters--more than one-fourth part solid salt--the winter
rains, and the streams from the salt springs, bring down all the
chlorides which were once spread over the larger basin of the former
great lake, and which are now accumulating in the smaller area, so that
the sea seems to be almost in process of evaporating into a salt-marsh.
There is, however, a curious indication still to be noticed. Hitherto
evaporation has been on the increase. Is this still the case? The fords
near the Lisân, which used to be passable by donkeys, are said now to be
much deeper than formerly, and Sheikh Jemîl, the most intelligent of the
Arabs near Jericho, told me that in his father’s days the sea did not
generally reach farther inland than the Rujm el Bahr, whereas now the
connecting causeway is always under water. This represents a rise of
some ten feet in the water-level. In fact, according to this statement,
the sea has now more water in it than it used to have half a century
ago.
If the theory of desiccation be correct, the idea that the Dead Sea was
first formed at the time when the Cities of the Plain were overthrown is
a fallacy. Geologists hold that the lake had reached its present
condition before man was created, and thus the vale of Siddim is, no
doubt, still represented by the district of the Sidds round the northern
shores of the sea; for the four successive Dead Seas, which we have
traced above, had all dried up before the days of Abraham.
Turning from the question of the probable formation of the valley, we
may next notice the most remarkable of its antiquities, namely, the
Tellûl or Tells there found.
The word Tell (meaning a “heap”) is used for many different things; for
a conical mountain, for a little sand-hillock, for an artificial mound,
or for a heap of ruins. The Jordan Valley has Tells of all these kinds
in it, but the class of artificial mounds is the one more peculiarly
interesting. Of these there are seven at Jericho, twenty-four at Beisân,
several others between, and others again east of Jordan. They have been
described as ruined sites of cities or fortresses, commanding the
passes; the following peculiarities seem to be invariably recognisable.
The Tell is a mound with steep slopes, from two or three to twenty or
thirty feet high; a large Tell is often surrounded by smaller ones
irregularly scattered; they are of no particular shape, and they show no
signs of stone masonry, being outwardly earthen mounds, whilst inwardly,
Captain Warren’s excavations proved them in some cases to consist of
sun-dried bricks.
The Tells all occur in alluvial soil, and I believe there is scarcely an
instance in which water--a spring or a stream--is not found close by. It
is true that Tells exist near the passes of the hills and by the Jordan
fords, but this is, I think, no proof that they were fortresses, for
half the number are placed in positions of no strategical value, and
those which are so placed will be found also to stand by water either
springing from the hills or flowing into Jordan.
Brick mounds in clay land by water are suggestive of brick-making.
Travellers from India and from Egypt have recognised a similarity
between the Jordan Valley Tells and the great mounds of refuse bricks,
found in both those countries, on which other bricks are laid out to dry
in the sun. This seems to me the most probable origin of the Tells.
The preceding observations are intended to give a general idea of the
physical features of the Jordan Valley, and of their relation to its
probable origin, as well as of the most striking archæological features.
We may now return to the history of the second Jordan Valley campaign,
and to the principal Biblical discoveries which rewarded us for months
of most severe exertion.
The Survey was interrupted from the 4th of December 1873 to the 24th of
February 1874, in consequence of the severe attacks of fever from which
the whole party suffered at Jericho, and afterwards while wintering in
Jerusalem; but on the 24th of February we marched down into the valley,
and by the 20th of April we had completed the work to within three miles
of the Sea of Galilee; the rate obtained was nearly 300 square miles per
month, being treble that which had been possible with the smaller, and
inexperienced party, which I had conducted through the Samaritan
mountains.
Descending by the familiar pass of Wâdy Kelt, we found the valley
completely changed in appearance. It was no longer all white and glaring
chalk, but a broad expanse of deep pasture; the Kelt was a rapid stream
running with a loud murmur in its rocky chasm.
As a precaution, we now encamped on the top of the fatal Tell by
Elisha’s Fountain, beneath which we had suffered so much three months
before. It was no longer a mound of dust, but a hillock, hidden deep in
luxuriant mallows with immense round leaves.
We visited the Dead Sea once more, to fix up poles for observing the
water-levels; these poles had been carefully made in Jerusalem, and were
marked with figures. The first we drove, without difficulty, at the
water’s edge, but the second it was almost impossible to fix. Floating
on my back, I held it upright in the water with my feet, while Drake
swam and drove it with a mallet. There was a strong current, which made
the operation most difficult, but at length it was so far fixed that I
was able to climb on to it, and to drive it down farther with the mallet
from above. We were nearly an hour in the water, and Drake suffered from
the over-exertion. Within a week the Arabs pulled up the poles, for the
sake of the iron, in spite of the reiterated assurances of the Sheikhs
that they should be respected.
We next visited the spring encampment of Sheikh Jemîl, and, after the
coffee, we were treated to a repast consisting of a sort of omelette and
a dish of sweet rice, both very good, as was also the thin wafer-like
bread just baked. From the tent-door we looked out on the flowery slopes
and the gleaming lake, on the children, camels and donkeys, goats and
kids, and lambs with speckled fleeces, such as Jacob chose from Laban’s
flocks. Here and there a female figure stole out, robed in the dark
green and indigo-coloured sweeping garments peculiar to the Bedawîn
women; and inside the black camel’s-hair tent, on bright cushions and
carpets, our friends sat round--Jemîl, the educated chief, who could
read and write; Jedû’a, his brother, the great hunter of the ibex; the
young flaxen-haired Sheikh who had been one of our principal guides; and
many others with faces then quite familiar to me.
On Tuesday the 26th of February we struck camp, and marched north to
Fusâil, the ancient Phasaelis founded by Herod. Our procession was
spread over a quarter of a mile as I reviewed it from a hillock beside
the road. Five Englishmen on horseback came first, eight mules, and
eight camels followed, we had four Bedawîn guides, seven muleteers, six
servants, and a Bashi-Bazouk, three donkeys, and Sheikh Jemîl’s
dromedary--in all, twenty-seven individuals and thirty-four animals,
including six dogs.
The new camp was not in the territory of Sheikh Jemîl, and I had
procured letters to the Emir of the Mes’aid Arabs. Our old friends left
us, and Jemîl seemed disappointed by the present I gave him, though it
was worth five pounds, but was radiant on the receipt of another five
shillings.
About two p.m., on the 28th, the Emîr was announced; he was seen coming
across the plain, with ten horsemen armed with long lances, and swords,
and with guns which they kept firing off. They dismounted with much
ceremony, and coffee was served; the Emîr was rather a handsome man,
with delicate features and very small hands and feet. He left his son
and nephew with us, but was very anxious we should come on to the Fâr’ah
Valley where his camp was pitched. We had intended to give him a dinner,
but the provisions did not arrive, and he intimated, through the
servants, that money would be more acceptable, so I had two
half-sovereigns wrapped up in paper, and slipped one into his hand and
one into that of his cousin; I also sent out to him a black abba, and
the great prince rode off happily. I suppose that had I offered such a
present during the troublous year 1877, when Fendi-el-Faiz took £300
from Tiberias, the Emir would not have been so contented with the
amount.
We found it very difficult to keep any Arabs at Fusâil; some said it was
not their country, others that the fever was always bad there, others
again that they were afraid of a ghoul in the ruins. In reality the
country here belongs to the Fellahîn, and I imagine no Arabs had a right
to camp there. We were much hindered by weather; rain and snow fell, and
though the latter never came into the valley it lay thick on the hills;
and on the summit of the Kurn Sûrtûbeh we were caught in a fall of
sleet. Corporal Brophy had to ride up 3000 feet every morning before he
got to his work, and the transitions of temperature were far from
improving our health.
We were now almost at the foot of the Sûrtûbeh block, one of the finest
features of the valley; and I surveyed the detail on the mountain
myself; for ever since 1873 I had been in the habit of taking part in
the survey of detail. In addition to this I had my duties as commander,
and the writing of notes and reports, studies of archæological and
antiquarian questions, plan-making, hill-shading, accounts, and general
provisioning, all of which duties fell upon me personally.
The Sŭrtŭbeh is a block of chalk which has slid down the face of
the tilted dolomitic limestone of the watershed hills. Its summit, two
thousand four hundred feet above the valley, is capped by a cone two
hundred and seventy feet high, with steep smooth sides like those of the
so-called Frank Mountain (Herodium) near Bethlehem. The building on the
top appears to be the foundation of a Crusading fort with large drafted
stones; beneath are caves all round the hill, and lower still a sort of
terrace like a garden. An aqueduct follows the contour of the mountain,
collecting surface-drainage and leading to some large reservoirs cut in
rock. A wall, enclosing a space some thirty yards by ninety, surrounds
the foundations of the tower, which are about eighteen feet in height.
This mountain, under which we lived for just a month, has so remarkable
an appearance, and yet so slight a history, that one could not help
imagining a mystery about it. We asked the Arabs, but they said that
Sŭrtŭbeh was a king who built a castle on the top. It has by some
been supposed to be the Tower of Alexandrium near Corea, noticed more
than once by Josephus; but Corea was on the boundary of the lands of
Judea and Samaria, and near the watershed, as Josephus expressly tells
us.
The name Surtuba occurs in the Talmud, as that of a beacon-station on
the way from Jerusalem to the Hauran, which was lighted when the new
moon appeared. This fact is, no doubt, connected with the title Dalûk,
applied, not to the conical summit, but to one close to it on the chain,
and meaning “burning” in Hebrew; and also perhaps with the name “Mother
of the New Moon” applied to a prominent point on the mountain.
Sŭrtŭbeh means, as Dr. Chaplin pointed out to me, neither more nor
less than “Bellevue,” and is certainly a title very appropriate to this
fine point. I have only been able to find one later reference to the
place, Marino Sanuto speaking of it as the fortress of Docus where Simon
the Hasmonean was murdered; but this is a mistake, and other mediæval
writers point out the true site near ’Ain Dûk.
In 1874 I proposed to identify the Kurn with the place where the great
monumental altar of Ed was erected, by the children of Gad, Reuben and
Manasseh. The site seems wonderfully appropriate for a monument intended
to show that the trans-Jordanic tribes were not cast out from their
participation in the religious rites of the western tribes. The place
stands above the great ford, by which they perhaps crossed in going from
Shiloh to the land of Gilead, and the name Ed is perhaps recognisable in
the Tal’at Abu ’Aid on the side of the mountain. There are, however,
objections to the theory; first that the tribes crossed by the “passage
of the children of Israel” (Josh. xxii. 11) after leaving Shiloh, and
this seems to point, not to the Dâmieh, but to the Jericho ford;
secondly, Josephus says that the altar was east of Jordan; thirdly, Abu
’Aid, “father of the feast,” may be (as it sometimes is) a proper name
of a person born on a feast-day. The idea is therefore merely a
conjecture, and far from being an identification.
The Jordan Valley was now one blaze of beautiful flowers, growing in a
profusion not often to be found, even in more fertile lands. The ground
was literally covered with blossoms: the great red anemone, like a
poppy, grew in long tracts on the stony soil: on the soft marls patches
of delicate lavender colour were made by the wild stocks; the Retem or
white broom (the juniper of Scripture) was in full blossom, and the rich
purple nettles contrasted with fields of the Kutufy or yellow St. John’s
wort. There were also quantities of orange-coloured marigolds, and long
fields of white and purple clover, tall spires of asphodel and clubs of
snapdragon, purple salvias and white garlic, pink geraniums and cistus,
tall white umbelliferous plants, and large camomile daisies, all set in
a border of deep green herbage which reached the shoulders of the
horses. Even the Zor was green, and Jordan’s banks covered with flowers,
while the brown Turfah or tamarisks and the canebrake hid the rushing
stream, and the white marl banks stood out in striding contrast.
Rain, and Bedawîn unpunctuality, delayed our move for several days, but
on Tuesday the 10th of March we got to Wâdy Fâr’ah--the open plain north
of the Sŭrtŭbeh, which Vandevelde marks as “beautiful” on his map.
Drake and the men went on before, and I sat on a box waiting for the
camels. Six Arabs appeared, at last, on horseback, escorting a drove of
about fifteen camels, ranging from a patriarch with a pendent lower lip
to a little woolly thing not as high as a pony, who came along making
constant attempts to get refreshment from his mother. Very picturesque
no doubt! but they had no proper saddles. The owners proposed to put our
boxes in sacks, as they put their own camp-furniture. We bound the
things on somehow, and various little negro boys mounted the humps of
the camels. They had no bridles, and took seven hours to go as many
miles, stopping to crop the grass at intervals; but we were thankful to
get any beasts at all in this wild region.
We commenced the triangulation from the new camp at once, and rode out
on the 11th to a hill north of it, whence a fine view of the Ghôr could
be obtained. On the south was the wide valley, flanked by steep ranges,
with the Sŭrtŭbeh in the foreground, and the gleaming Dead Sea in
the far distance. On the north the valley became narrower, and its
surface was broken into mud-islands, and marl mounds scored with
hundreds of intricate watercourses--a region well called by the Arabs
“the Mother of Steps.” In the middle of it the snaky Jordan wriggled
along, with brown tamarisk swamps on either bank; far away were black
volcanic ranges and the white dome of snowy Hermon, with the long white
line of Anti-Libanus to the west Eastward was the rugged Mount Gilead,
crowned by a Crusading castle (Kŭl’at er Rubud) and on the west the
shapeless hills north of Nablus, the mediæval land of Tampne.
On Wednesday the 25th, we at length got a fine morning, and spite of the
very boggy nature of the ground, we set out for Wâdy Mâleh, the only
place at a suitable distance where water was reported. It was not a
change for the better by any means. The Fâr’ah Valley is a most
delightful place in early spring, when it does not rain, but Wâdy Mâleh
was quite the worst camp we ever went into. Down the Fâr’ah a perennial
stream flows from near Tullûza, in which stream we may perhaps recognise
the “much water” between Salem and Ænon. Part of the course is through a
narrow gorge, between low precipitous cliffs of dark limestone, with
iron-coloured bands of flint and many natural caverns. Lower down it
broadens into an open vale a mile across, the whole of which was now
knee-deep in beautiful flowers. The canes in the stream had been swept
down, and piled in heaps, covered with mud, in consequence of the late
floods. The oleander bushes grow all along the bed of the river in
great luxuriance, and they were now in full flower.
Leaving this charming valley hidden among its rolling hills, we ascended
northwards on to the Bukei’a, or plateau, on which the ruin ’Ainûn
(Ænon) stands. Here the flowers were also abundant; the pheasant’s-eye
was as large almost as an anemone; two beautiful species of bugloss
formed patches of sky-blue, and the pink cistus (comparatively rare in
Palestine) grew between the rocks; the veronicas, blue and red, with
here and there a bunch of the dark iris (the “lily of the field”), were
interspersed with large maroon-coloured velvety arums. The plain is good
corn-land, but seems to have a bad natural drainage; and our mules
floundered in deep bogs, sometimes up to the girths.
Still farther north, we began to descend a long valley, and came on a
different kind of country. A basaltic outbreak appeared, and cliffs
tilted in every direction. The valley-bed was strewn with fragments of
hard basalt. Passing over a bare ridge, where the beautiful white Retem
broom (Elijah’s juniper) abounded, we descended into a most desolate
valley, where, between green rolling hills like those of the Judean
desert, a muddy stream was flowing. We had ridden fifteen miles, and it
now began to rain again. We found, to our dismay, that this was where we
had to camp, as no other supply of water existed in a position central
to the new work.
The valley comes down from a narrow gorge, dominated by a Crusading
castle, and beneath this is a great outbreak of basalt. We rode up the
gorge, hoping to find a better place; but the pass was too rugged to
expect to get camels up it in the then state of the road, so we resigned
ourselves to a camp in the lower ground by the stream.
We soon made a still more unpleasant discovery. The valley was full of
clear springs, but they were all tepid and salt. The head spring has a
temperature of 100° F., and the stream from it is about 80° F. If the
Survey was to be done at all, it appeared that we should have to drink
brackish water for ten days or more. Here, then, we sat down on the wet
grass, in a driving drizzle of rain, by the brackish stream; not a soul
was to be seen, either Bedawî or peasant, and it was evident that food
would have to be brought from a distance.
The mules soon arrived with our tents and beds, which, though soaked
with rain, we set up on the bare ground.
News of the camels reached us after dark; they had been unable to
struggle any farther, and one had sprained its leg slipping on the
rocks; they had, therefore, halted a few miles farther south.
Next morning things looked a little better, and we went out to choose
points for the theodolite; we also discovered a spring of cold fresh
water about a mile away, and found a peasant, from whom we bought an
aged goat.
The Emîr and his party left us, having been thoroughly disgusted with
the journey and with the rain.
The morning of the 27th promised well, and Sergeant Armstrong and I set
out to ascend a hill called Râs Jâdir, six miles from camp, and 2500
feet above it. We again floundered through deep bogs, and had the
greatest difficulty in making any progress. As we got to the summit, we
experienced a wind so cutting and strong that we had to dismount, being
nearly blown off our horses; and the theodolite was scarcely adjusted
before a pelting hail-storm followed. Wrapped in our waterproofs, we
waited under a tree, when suddenly the sun burst out, and a very clear
view was obtained. Half the observations were taken, when a second
hail-storm came on; and a third broke over us before we had finished. It
was piercing cold, and the wind at times almost a hurricane; but it was
clear between the squalls, and we obtained very good observations,
though my hands were so cold that I could scarcely write them down.
Such were the difficulties which attended our third Jordan Valley camp
in 1874. Against them we may count the exploration of Ænon,
Abel-Meholah, and Tirzah, the plotting of a region scarcely known
before, and the discovery of an important volcanic centre and of hot
springs. Perhaps no European will again be obliged to linger so long in
this inhospitable region.
East of camp, Wâdy Mâleh ran out into the south part of the Beisân
plain--a broad open valley, gay with flowers, dotted with Tells all
hidden by dark mallows, and frequented by the solemn white storks,
called “fathers of good luck,” or “little pilgrims,” by the Arabs. On
the north-west the heights of Gilboa closed the view, with Tabor and
Neby Duhy peeping over them. A black mound represented the ruins of
Beisân, and the high plateau rose behind, crowned by the Crusading
castle of Belvoir overlooking Jordan. A silver thread seen through the
gap below was the Sea of Galilee; the hills of Safed were pale and blue
beyond; and farther yet was Hermon, in the full glory of his fresh
winter robe of snow, his rounded bulk dwarfing the lower ranges and
closing the scene.
From the banks of the Ghôr we looked down also on Jordan, a turbid
coffee-coloured stream, breaking in one place over stones down a small
rapid, and varying from some forty to seventy yards in width, being now
very full. Little islands covered with tamarisks occurred at intervals,
and the river wound like a snake, looking wild and desolate, and
flowing, as Josephus says, “through a desert.” The Zor is here not
continuous, and in places there are cliffs a hundred feet high
immediately over the stream. The low ground was covered with barley,
already very high.
The only places of interest in this part of the Beisân plain were ’Ain
Helweh, a spring with ruins, at the distance from Beisân at which Jerome
places Abel Meholah; and Sâkût, which has been thought by some to be
Succoth. The name is, however, radically different, and Succoth has been
recovered under its later name Tarala at Tell Dar’ala, north-east of the
Dâmieh ford; but Sâkût is probably a Crusading site, for Marino Sanuto
seems to mark it on his map as Succoth, though Jerome places this
Biblical site east of Jordan.
On the 4th of April, after having endured our camp for ten days, we were
able once more to march north to Beisân (the Biblical Bethshean), one of
the best-watered places in Palestine, and at that time literally
streaming with rivulets from some fifty springs. Here, then, we rested,
for Easter Sunday, surrounded by interesting ruins, and near a fine pool
in the Jalûd river in which we could swim. We had a boar’s head,
pigeons, quail, and fish from Jordan for dinner, and enjoyed the change
from the succession of patriarchal goats which we had devoured in Wâdy
Mâleh.
The fords of Jordan were collected and marked in the natural course of
the Survey, the names carefully obtained, and every precaution taken to
ensure their being applied to the right places. It was not, however,
until the next winter that I became aware how valuable a result had
been obtained. Looking over the nomenclature for the purpose of making
an index, I was struck with the name ’Abârah applying to a ford. The
word means “passage,” or “ferry,” and is radically the same word found
in the name Bethabara. I looked ’Abârah out at once on the map, and
found that it is one of the main fords, just above the place where the
Jalûd river, flowing down the valley of Jezreel and by Beisân, debouches
into Jordan.
One cannot but look on this as one of the most valuable discoveries
resulting from the Survey; and I have not, as yet, seen any argument
directed against the identification which seems to shake it. It may be
said that the name ’Abârah is merely descriptive, and perhaps applies to
several fords. That it is descriptive may be granted; so is the name
Bethabara, or Bethel, or Gibeah, or Ramah. That it is a common name may
be safely denied. We have collected the names of over forty fords, and
no other is called ’Abârah; nor does the word occur again in all the
9000 names collected by the Survey party.
Nor do we depend on the name alone. An identification may be defined as
the recovery of a site unknown to Europeans, but known to the natives of
the country. Evidently places can only be known by their names, unless
we have measured distances by which to fix them. If in England we
endeavoured to recover an ancient site, and knew the district in which
it should occur, we should be satisfied if we found the ancient name
applying to one place, and one only, in that district. Without the name,
we should still be in doubt. Does not this apply to Palestine? It is
true that name alone will not be sufficient; position must be suitable
also. No one would try to identify Yarmouth in Norfolk with Yarmouth in
the Isle of Wight. But, on the other hand, without the name it is merely
conjecture, not identification, that is possible.
Here at ’Abârah we have the name, and nowhere else, as yet, has the name
been found; the question then arises, is the position suitable?
We speak commonly of Bethabara as the place of Our Lord’s baptism.
Possibly it was so, but the Gospel does not say as much. It is only once
mentioned as a place where John was baptising, and where certain events
happened on consecutive days. These events are placed in the Gospel
harmonies immediately after the Temptation, when Christ would appear to
have been returning from the desert (perhaps east of Jordan) to Galilee.
Bethabara, “the house of the ferry,” was “beyond Jordan;” but the place
of baptism was no doubt at the ford or ferry itself; hence the ford
’Abârah is the place of interest. It cannot be Christian tradition which
originates this site, for Christian tradition has pointed, from the
fourth century down to the present day, to the fords of Jericho as the
place of baptism by St. John.
“And the third day there was a marriage in Cana of Galilee” (John ii.
1). Here is the controlling passage. The hostile critics of the fourth
Gospel have taken hold of it; they have supposed the traditional site to
be undoubtedly the true one, and have thence argued the impossibility
that in one day Christ could have travelled eighty miles to Cana. To the
fourth-century inquirer the difficulty would never have occurred; he
would have answered at once that Our Lord was miraculously carried from
one place to the other; but the Gospel does not say so, and we should
therefore look naturally for Bethabara within a day’s journey of Cana.
The ford ’Abârah is about twenty-two miles in a line from Kefr Kenna,
and no place can be found, on Jordan, much nearer or more easily
accessible to the neighbourhood of Cana.
I leave these facts to the reader, asking him to choose, between the
difficulties attendant on the traditional site, and the suitability of
the new site, where alone as yet the name of Bethabara has been
recovered.
There is, however, another point with regard to Bethabara which must not
be overlooked. The oldest MSS. read, not Bethabara, but Bethany, beyond
Jordan. Origen observed this, yet chose the present reading, and we can
hardly suppose that the early fathers of the Church made such an
alteration without some good reason; perhaps the original text contained
both names, “Bethabara in Bethany” beyond Jordan being a possible
reading.
The author of “Supernatural Religion” has made a point of this reading
in arguing against the authenticity of the fourth Gospel. He supposes
that Bethany beyond Jordan has been confused in the Evangelist’s mind
with Bethany near Jerusalem, forgetting that this very Gospel speaks of
the latter place as “nigh unto Jerusalem, about fifteen furlongs off”
(John xi. 18). The assumption of the confusion is quite gratuitous.
Bathania, meaning “soft soil,” was the well-known form used in the time
of Christ, of the old name Bashan, which district was in Peræa, or the
country beyond Jordan.
If Bethabara be a true reading, the place should thus most probably be
sought in Bathania, and the ford should therefore lead over to Bashan.
This again strengthens the case for the ’Abârah ford, which is near the
hills of Bashan, whereas the Jericho fords are far away, leading over
towards Gilead and Moab.
A second site of primary interest may here be noticed in its proper
place, namely that of Megiddo.
In a former chapter we have seen, that the identification proposed by
Robinson rests on a wholly insufficient basis. Here again it is a
question of recovering the name. The position of Megiddo is not fixed
very definitely in the Biblical narrative, though the town is noticed in
connection with Taanach, west of the Great Plain, and with Jezreel,
Bethshan, and other places near the Jordan Valley. A broad valley was
named from the city, and the “waters of Megiddo” are also noticed in
Scripture. All these requisites are met by the large ruined site of
Mujedd’a at the foot of Gilboa--a mound from which fine springs burst
out, with the broad valley of the Jalûd river to the north. It is the
only place, as yet discovered, at which any name like the Hebrew
Megiddon exists, and the position seems to suit also with the march of
Thothmes III. towards the Sea of Galilee, through Aaruna (perhaps
’Arrâneh), and Kalna (possibly Kâ’aûn), to the plains of Megiddo.
A remarkable confirmation of this identification is moreover found in
the translation which Brugsch gives of a passage in the historic papyrus
of the time of Rameses II., called “Travels of a Mohar,” which runs
thus:
“Describe Bethsheal (Beisân) Tarkaal (Taricheæ, or Kerak), the ford of
Jirduna (Jordan, or perhaps better Wâdy Jalud near Beisân, as the
Egyptian word may also be read Jelduna). Teach me to know the passage in
order to enter the city of Megiddo which lies in front of it.”
This passage seems clearly to place Megiddo in the vicinity of Beisân,
where the important ruin of Mujedd’a is now found. The term Bikath
Megiddon, which is rendered “Valley of Megiddon” (Zech. xii. 11), and
has generally been supposed to refer to the plain of Esdraelon, may very
properly be applied to the broad basin of the Jordan Valley in the
vicinity of Mujedd’a, just as the word Bikath is applied in another
passage (Deut. xxxiv. 3) to the plains of Jericho. No name at all
approaching to that of Megiddo was found by the Survey party in any
other suitable position.
A third place of importance is the Spring of Harod, where Gideon divided
his troops. This appears, according to Josephus, to have been near
Jordan, while from the Bible we gather it to have been in the
neighbourhood of Gilboa, being towards the south of the Valley of
Jezreel, and opposite the Midianite host (Judg. vi. 33; vii. 1). The
Mount Gilead of the passage is very possibly the name of part of the
chain above the river now called Jalûd (see Judg. vii. 3). It is very
striking to find in this position a large spring with the name ’Ain el
Jem’aîn, or “fountain of the two troops,” and there seems no valid
objection to the view that this is the Spring of Harod.
Beisân itself, where we were now encamped, is a miserable hamlet of mud
hovels, amid the ruins of the important town of Scythopolis, which was a
bishopric, from the fifth century, until the change of the see to
Nazareth, in the twelfth century. In the Bible it is famous as the place
where the body of Saul was fastened to the wall (1 Sam. xxxi. 10), but
the remains of a theatre, hippodrome, and temple, of fine structural
tombs, and baths, with a Crusading fortress and bridge, are among the
best preserved antiquities of western Palestine. Christian martyrs, in
the fourth century, here fought wild beasts in the theatre, and the
cages with the sockets of the iron bars, and the narrow passages from
the outside, are still intact in the ruined theatre of black basalt.
On the 14th of April Sergeant Black accompanied me on a flying
expedition, to carry the work farther north, camping in the old
Crusading castle of Belvoir, six miles nearer the Sea of Galilee.
The black basalt fortress, beside the ditch of which our tent stood, had
cost the lives of numbers of Saracens when attacked by Saladin in 1182,
more of the assailants perishing from heat and sunstroke than by the
sword. Jordan wound along, 1800 feet beneath us, spanned by two bridges,
and joined by the tortuous Yermûk. The heat had already withered the
flowers, but green patches of corn on the plateau contrasted with the
dry grass. The round Lake of Galilee lay among its hills, and mirrored
in its glassy surface the dome of Hermon; the Horns of Hattin, the
rugged range of Safed, and the low Nazareth hills, were all visible,
Nazareth itself gleaming white among the latter, while Tabor, like a
gigantic molehill, dotted with oaks, was backed by the blue Carmel
range, visible from the peak of sacrifice, right away to the monastery
at the sea end. The whole breadth of the land was thus seen--some thirty
miles across, from Jordan to the promontory above Haifa. South of Tabor
rose the Neby Duhy cone, with the black tents of the Sukr, coming up,
like the Philistines and Midianites of old, by the highway of the
Jezreel Valley, to levy black-mail from the villagers of the Great
Plain, and unopposed by any modern Saul or Gideon. Farther south the
tower of Jezreel was visible above the valley, and the peak of Sheikh
Iskander behind it. Gilboa hid the Great Plain; but, behind the Beisân
Valley and the hills of Wâdy Mâleh, the cone of the Sŭrtŭbeh stood
up like a great inverted funnel; and the Moab mountains could be seen
almost as far as the Dead Sea. The length of the land, as well as the
breadth, was included in this magnificent panorama from the castle of
Belvoir.
We moved up, on the 17th, to Shunem, and on the next night we
experienced an adventure. Our party was so small--consisting of only
three persons--that the Sukr Arabs were tempted to try and steal our
horses. A short, sharp bark from our big dog warned my servant, and the
thieves, creeping through the long grass, were seen and fired on just as
they reached the tethering-rope. Half an hour later, just as we were
dropping asleep, we heard a distant Bedawîn war-song coming nearer and
nearer, and several shots were fired. Our guards from the village
shouted lustily for help, and I got up, put on my boots, and loaded my
gun, while the Sergeant prepared his pistol. The noise grew louder as
the enemy approached, when suddenly the village woke up. It was pitch
dark, but we could hear the shouts of the peasants as they ran out to
meet the Arabs. The dark outline of the mountain could just be
distinguished, with the twinkling stars above, and soon there were
flashes on every side; but the guns seemed only to go off about once in
four times. The war-song grew fainter, and the Arabs appeared to be
easily driven back. They never came to our tents, but they got hold of
a cow from the village, and so retreated.
On the 20th we marched to the pleasant gardens of Jenin, and felt as if
returning to civilisation. The horses were shod, and the party became
wonderfully high-spirited, relieved from the abnormal pressure of the
air below sea-level, and looking forward to rest and better food.
Such is the history of the Survey of the Jordan Valley. The results were
more important than could have been hoped. The cost was the complete
exhaustion of Drake and myself. Being ordered home by medical advice, I
left Drake with many apprehensions about his health. We clasped hands
and parted, never to meet again, for almost the first news I got, on
reaching England, was that he had been again attacked with the horrible
typhoid fever of Jericho. After reaching Jerusalem the exposure and
malaria proved too much for his constitution, and we paid a heavy price
for our success, for he died at his post in the summer. It is a sad
consolation to remember that we had been cordial and entirely of one
mind, during the two years we had spent together, and that not a single
unkind or hasty word had passed between us. In the gallant gentleman who
had been my only companion for so long, I lost a friend whose fine
qualities I had learned to appreciate, and whose tact and courtesy had
lightened the burden of the command which I held.
[Illustration: DEBIR.]