Haifa, Nov. 3.—While at Nablous I received information that a large
piece of ancient sculpture had been discovered by a man in excavating
some foundations. I procured a guide, and proceeded to his dwelling. It
was evidently the residence of a man of means, and stood in a large
courtyard, at the entrance to which I knocked for admittance. After
hammering for some time a voice from within asked who I was and what I
wanted. On my shouting a reply, I was abruptly told to go away, and all
was silent. Now, the accounts I had heard of this antiquity stimulated
my curiosity to such a degree that, in addition to the indignation I
felt at this treatment, my desire to see the relic overcame my
forbearance, and, seizing a stone, while I ordered my attendant to take
another, we made the quarter ring with our blows. After a time the voice
was heard again: “Why don't you go away. I won't open the door.”
“I won't go away, and I will break open the door if you don't open it,”
I shouted.
“But I am the chief of the police.”
“I don't care who you are; open the door,” and bang went a stone against
it.
There was silence for a moment, and then another and a milder voice:
“Wait a moment. I will let you in,” and the door opened and revealed an
empty courtyard and a youth.
“My father was angry because you disturbed him so early,” he remarked,
apologetically, and I then observed many signs betokening a recent rapid
evacuation on the part of the female members of the family.
Now that I was in, with a large fragment of a beautifully carved frieze
staring me in the face, I could afford to be civil. I was profuse in my
apologies, and promised to disturb no one if I were only shown the
antiquities. But I was destined to experience another reaction of
disappointment when the mild youth informed me that this was all there
was left. The others had been sent to the museum at Constantinople.
Fortunately antiquities, especially when they are massive, travel slowly
in this country, and as I had an opportunity of seeing these before they
left Haifa, and made such careful copies of them as time permitted, I
will describe them.
The peculiar interest which attaches to these remains, which evidently
belong to the Græco-Roman period, arises from the fact that they may
possibly have formed part of the great pagan temple which is represented
on the Greek imperial coins of the ancient Acropolis. The main objection
to this theory is that the temple, it is supposed, was erected on Mount
Gerizim, and the coins show that it was approached by a handsome flight
of steps, whereas these remains were found not far from the base of the
mountain, though sufficiently on its slope to warrant the approach of a
flight of steps. The fact that the subjects of the tableaux are all
taken from Greek mythology would indicate that there must have been a
large population in Samaria in those days, who, so far as their worship
was concerned, were not Samaritans.
Besides two draped figures, unfortunately without their heads, one
life-size and one fifty inches in height, there was a pedestal forty
inches high, triangular in shape, and on each face were two tableaux in
bas-relief, making six carved representations in all, in a very perfect
state of preservation, with inscriptions in Greek above them, of which,
however, I have only been able to make out the general tenor in some
cases. Besides copying the inscriptions, I made such sketches as I was
able of the tableaux. Where many figures are crowded together this is a
very difficult operation. The first scene represents a chariot drawn by
serpents, in which is a robed female, while on the left a woman is
crouched down under a tree. The second consists of Artemis, Apollo, and
Leto, with their names inscribed above them, while on the right is the
serpent Python, his head pierced by an arrow. The third represented an
infant struggling with a serpent between two draped female figures,
evidently Hercules strangling the serpents sent against him by Hera; for
above were the words, “_Trophoi Erakles_.” These formed the upper
tableaux. Below them were three other tableaux, illustrating the legend
of Theseus, the inscription being “_Theseus gnorismata_,” above a
tableau in which he is represented raising a stone under which are
hidden the sword and shoes of his father Aigeus. In the second he is
kneeling on one knee in a struggle with the Minotaur, while behind him
are a group of boys whom he came to save. In the third he has slain the
robber, who is lying prostrate at his feet. Theseus is nude and leaning
on his club, with three other persons all robed standing by him.
There can be little doubt that had any one been present when this
discovery was made, a fuller excavation would have been amply repaid,
and that the house of the ill-tempered old Moslem stands on a site of
the highest interest. I have carefully noted its position, in the hope
that at some future day conditions may exist which would render possible
an examination of his garden, which is now surrounded by a high wall. It
would require little digging to determine whether this was the site of
the celebrated temple or not.
I now left Nablous for the purpose of visiting the ruins of the ancient
city of Samaria, distant about five miles, and formerly the political
capital of the country. It is placed in a most commanding position, and,
from a strategical point of view, was well chosen. Nothing can exceed
the beauty of the prospect of the surrounding country which is obtained
from it. We first inspect the Crusading church of St. John the Baptist,
which must have been a beautiful edifice in its day. The walls alone are
now standing. In an underground crypt, now held sacred by the Moslem
peasantry, the saint is supposed to have been beheaded. The tradition,
though erroneous, is ancient, and existed in 380 A.D. It has some
colour, from the fact that the wilderness in which John preached is near
this, and not near Jericho, as is generally supposed. It can be pretty
well identified by the description “Onon, near to Salem,” where John was
baptizing, “because there was much water there.” Both these places
retain their names, and there is an abundant supply of water, which
flows hence into the Jordan. The fact that Bethabara must be placed much
higher up the Jordan valley than the position usually assigned to it by
tradition makes it pretty certain that the Wady Far'ah, the head of
which is near Samaria, in which are Onon and Salem, and which flows into
the Jordan not far from the probable position of Bethabara, was the
scene of John's ministrations.
The most interesting ruins, however, are those of Herod's Colonnade, to
the west of the modern village. It seems to have run round the hill on a
flat terrace, in the middle of which rises a rounded knoll, on which the
temple dedicated to Augustus, and stated by Josephus to be in the middle
of the town, presumably stood. The remains are most perfect on the
south, where some eighty columns are standing. These are mainly
monolithic. The width of the cloister was sixty feet, and the pillars
are sixteen feet high and six feet apart. The whole length of what must
have been a most imposing colonnade was about two thousand yards, or
nearly a mile and a quarter. Josephus makes it nearly two miles, but
this is exaggerated. There is another street of columns at the bottom of
the hill running in a line oblique to the sides of the upper colonnade.
The colonnade was entered by a gateway, flanked by small towers, the
scarps of which still remain.
Samaria is not to be compared in antiquity with Shechem, its most
flourishing time being, probably, during the reign of Herod, when, in
fact, all Palestine enjoyed a period of architectural magnificence
greater than anything it had previously known. If, instead of following
the ordinary road from Samaria, we ascend, from the large village of
Burka, a steep hill, we burst upon a view which is well worth the climb,
which has also the advantage of being a short cut. We look down into a
fertile basin covered with olive groves and villages, and in the
distance can see a considerable extent of coast line near Cæsarea, while
the familiar outline of Carmel to the northwest closes the prospect.
Then we plunge down into the gardens of the village of Fendakumiyeh,
where there is a sacred cave worth visiting, containing two recesses,
before which there is a detached block of stone like an altar. It may
probably have been an ancient rock-cut chapel. Close to this village is
another called Zeba, which I was sorely tempted to visit, as I had
received an invitation to do so from the sheik who lives here, and who
is one of the richest and most powerful sheiks in the country. He had
already called upon me in Haifa, and represents the great family of
Jerrar, who once exercised an almost independent rule in this district,
setting the Turkish government at defiance, and levying blackmail on the
inhabitants, while they were in perpetual feud with rival families who
claimed a like local supremacy in other parts of the country. The whole
of this system was broken down during the Egyptian occupation of the
country by Ibrahim Pasha. When, by British intervention, it was handed
back to the Turkish government, the latter succeeded in preventing its
recurrence—not, however, without the application of force. More than one
of these local sheiks can point out to you a hole in the wall of his
house which was made by a Turkish cannon-ball. They are by degrees
submitting to the influence of civilization, and, finding that it is no
longer possible to compete successfully with the officials in plundering
the peasantry, are making friends with these latter, so as either to go
shares with them, or to obtain their favor and assistance in their own
agricultural operations, and thus avoid being robbed themselves.
Thus in the immediate neighbourhood of this village there is a plain
called the Drowned Meadow, from the fact that during a great part of the
year it is a marsh, and therefore unavailable for crops. Could it be
drained it would add some thousands of acres of arable land to the
village to which it belonged. Not long ago I was consulted in regard to
the possibility of its being drained, and an engineer even went so far
as to make an estimate of the probable cost of the operation. Although
the sum charged was very moderate, it was more than the capitalists
could venture upon, but the very fact that they could entertain such an
idea was a marked evidence of progress on the part of men whose only
notion of drainage heretofore had been confined to their neighbours'
pockets.
Although probably I should have seen a splendid specimen of a native
magnate's establishment, I found that a halt at Zeba would have lost me
a day, and I therefore pushed on without allowing the sheik to suspect
my proximity to his hospitable abode, still keeping to bypaths instead
of following the beaten track to Jenin, the ancient Engannin, or Spring
of Gardens. From thence, in a day's journey across the plain of
Esdrælon, I reached Haifa.