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TIBERIAS was our last halting place. After a grateful dip in the buoyant
lake waters we leave early next day for Safed, the highest inhabited
place in Galilee, said to be the “city on a hill that cannot be hid,”
for it is situated so high that it is visible far and wide, but the term
‘city on a hill’ might almost equally well apply to Bethlehem, the “city
of our Lord.” In the distance the snow-white houses of Safed glisten on
the dark mountain side like diamonds set in the breast-plate of a mighty
giant. Leaving the Latin Convent of Tiberias, we ride along the shore of
the Sea of Galilee for about an hour, until we reach Medjil, or Magdala,
the home of the Magdalene, now a collection of wretched mud hovels, then
across the fertile but neglected plain of Gennesaret, in the midst of
which we see a fine stone circular fountain, evidently once the centre
of a great city, considered by some to be Capernaum; it is now overgrown
with vegetation and the centre of a wilderness, no other trace of a town
near. We pause awhile to think of those great cities which in our
Saviour’s time lined the shores of the lake, and see how thoroughly
their doom has been fulfilled. Tyre still exists as a place to dry nets
on, and Sidon as a habitation for fishermen; but Chorazin, Capernaum,
the two Bethsaidas and the other great lake cities—where are they? Their
very sites are not a certainty, and on the lake, where the Romans once
fought a great naval battle with the Jews, are now only three wretched
fishing boats, in one of which we take a voyage. They were “exalted to
heaven,” they are indeed “brought down to hell.” We leave the sites of
these formerly great cities on our right, and soon after pass along
sloping ground where there is much grass (here, in all probability,
Christ miraculously fed the multitude). A mountain near by was in the
middle ages known as Mensa, alluding perhaps to the place where our
Saviour made a table for the multitude in the wilderness. We lunch at
Ain-et-Tabighah, a pleasant spring in the mountains, said to be the site
of Bethsaida (there are ruins near by), and starting again skirt the
Wady-el-Hamân, or Valley of Doves, and soon after find ourselves high up
in the mountains of Naphtali, near Safed; we ascend the hill behind the
city to the ruins of the old Crusaders’ Castle, whence we obtain one of
the finest views of Palestine. To the east we look over the Sea of
Galilee, across Basan and the wild Hauran, almost into the Arabian
Desert, taking in, in the far south-east, the mountains of Moab and
Ammon, with a long stretch of the Jordan Valley—on the south and
south-west we see Carmel and Tabor—on the west the sea-coast—on the
north the view is bounded by the high mountains of Lebanon. We hire a
Moslem house for the night, after, of course, being asked for a month’s
rent; we put our horses in the basement and sleep in the upper room, as
usual without any kind of furniture or glass window, and the floor a mud
one, but the view from it is magnificent. The Jews cook for us, but are
so fanatical that they will not taste the food they themselves have
prepared for us. Our bed is a stone ledge a few feet from the floor, but
better however than we have in many other places; we soon learn the way
of making ourselves as comfortable as circumstances will permit,
sleeping often sounder on our stony couches than many do on down beds.
My dragoman shares my apartment, the others sleep outside in the open.
It is 5 a.m. when the Muzeddin, from the summit of the minaret chants
out the first hour of prayer, and we set about enjoying our frugal
Frühstück, as the Polish Jews here call it, and soon after are in the
saddle.
SAFED Olim Saphet, one of the four sacred cities of the Jews, is built
on terraces one above the other on the side of the mountain, so that the
flat roofs of one terrace serve very well as promenades for the houses
immediately above, also affording extra facilities for cats and pariah
dogs, jackals, &c., to intrude upon our nocturnal privacy. From Safed we
travel up and down the mountains, having beautiful views of the plain
where Jabin of Hazor gathered together his iron chariots against Joshua;
of the waters of Merom (Lake Huleh), and the swamps and jungles of the
Jordan, with herds of half wild buffaloes almost hidden in the high
rushes. On our left we pass a large khan, built to accommodate the
Circassian cut-throats, exiled for committing the Bulgarian atrocities;
then on our right is a rock-hewn cistern of vast size, evidently made
for some other purpose than to supply a few sheep here in the
wilderness.
DESHUN, an African colony sent from Algeria when the French conquered
that country, is next reached; the people seem to be industrious and
prosperous. We observe that their houses are detached and have sloping
roofs, seldom seen in this country except in European settlements, and
altogether they appear more civilised than the Arab inhabitants around
them. About noon we pass the site of Hazor, whose kings we hear of in
Holy Writ under the common name of Jabin, which was probably the
hereditary title of their kings, as Hazael of Syria, Hiram of Tyre,
Pharaoh of Egypt, &c. After a ride of about 11 miles, we halt for tiffin
in the olive grove of Kedes, (Kadesh Naphtali) one of the cities of
refuge, and the home, it will be remembered, of Barak, as also of Heber
the Kenite. It was one of the royal cities of the Canaanites. There are
great masses of débris and ruins here, and some fine single and double
sarcophagi lying about. The Turkish people are excavating huge trenches
and digging out large quantities of ancient worked stones, not however,
with any love or regard for archæology, for they are at once utilised to
erect modern buildings or burnt for lime. We acquire a very ancient lamp
for about three half-pence. Our zeal for antiquities a Turk or Arab does
not understand; he will sooner build a bizarre new mosque (as at Cairo)
than repair the grand old one next door; if a building goes to ruin, he
says resignedly “Mâshâllah” (God wills it), and leaves it to decay.
LAKE HULEH (Semachonitis), which lies under Mount Hermon, is between
four and five miles long and about four miles broad. Nebu Husha, or the
tomb of Joshua, looks down upon it. The views all along the shores
(where the hills of Naphtali and Basan close upon the lake) and the
vista of the Jordan valley and mountains beyond, especially Hermon, are
very fine. We now, as there is a deal of ground to cover before sundown,
try a short cut into the valley without going by Hunin, the usual way.
We hear of a path from the Bedouin, and after some difficulty find it.
It is not known to the travellers’ guides, and it is just as well that
it should not be, for it is a difficult dangerous descent, and one of
our horses slipping in a bad place, very nearly brings great grief, both
to himself, his rider, and the writer, who suddenly finds himself, with
a frightened horse in front slipping, falling, and struggling, wedged in
a track so narrow and precipitous that it is difficult to find room to
dismount; once off, we do not remount until we reach the plain, and no
greater damage is done than the loss of a bridle, but a halter is almost
as good for an Arab horse. The animal bolted after his fall but we
managed to catch him. The path afterwards, when we could find one, being
little better than a goat track, we have some trouble to get the horses
to face the steep descents. It saves however some hours of time, and is
of immense service to us, as otherwise we should have been benighted in
the difficult, dangerous, rough and swampy country at the head of the
Jordan valley. As it is we are out 11½ hours in an almost tropical
country, and do not get into Banias until after sunset, a bad time to
enter any Eastern town, and then have to look for a lodging. But to go
back a little, we get down into the Jordan valley, near Ain Belat, at
the tents of the Ghawarineh Arabs. “Rob Roy” gives them a bad character,
and says they attacked him, but they give us water and behave civilly.
However we should not trust them too far, nor after dark. We are so glad
to get down to level ground, so severe is the descent, that we think
little of any danger from the wild denizens we drop down on. The scene
here is remarkable, the black Bedouin tents, the dusky herds of
buffaloes roaming among the marshes, the impenetrable jungles, the
almost naked swarthy barbarians, together with the intense heat, make us
imagine ourselves to be in the midst of the dark continent. Our advice
to travellers going from Safed by Kedes to Banias, is to make a two
day’s trip of it, and not one as we did, and then to keep up on the
mountain, and descend by Hunin to the plain.
HUNIN, which we pass under, was the Beth-rehob of Joshua, the limit of
the land searched by the spies, for here Syria may be said to begin on
the slopes of the Anti-lebanon. We now cross the Hasbâny, the most
northerly source of the Jordan, by an old ruined Roman bridge,
Jisl-el-Ghugar, where my men dismount again, but I have more confidence
in my horses hoofs than my own boots, and stop in the saddle, and the
surefooted sagacious animal carries me over the holes and boulders
safely, whereat I score a point against the dragoman, and now after
another rough ride for about three miles over stones and swamps, at
length we reach Tell-el-Kadi, the (fertile) hill of the Judge or Dan,
which in the Hebrew also signifies Judge.
DAN, it will be remembered, was the extreme northern limit of the
promised Land, as Beersheba was the most southern. Its Canaanitish name
was Laish, it was a colony of Sidon, and dated back to the days of
Abraham. The Danites took it easily by surprise, as the inhabitants were
a peaceable people devoted to commerce and the manufacture of pottery.
It was always a “high place” or sacred city with the Phœnicians, who
called it Balinas, or the city of Baal, as later on with Jeroboam, whose
Calf was a venerated idol with the local heathen of that day, as it is
still curiously with the native ignorant Druse peasants at the present
day. When cursed by a Mahommedan they are often called “Sons of a Calf,”
as we ourselves heard: so Jeroboam did not necessarily take his idea
from the golden calf of Mosaic times, but may have simply adopted the
indigenous idolatry; yet “Calfolatry” may have originally come from
Egypt, as Dan, being a city of palm trees and water, was a favourite
trysting place for the Egyptian as well as the Assyrian, being on the
road to Damascus, which was the objective point of every invader,
whether warrior or merchant.
DAN is now a mound some 500 feet or so long, and 40 feet high, visible
for a long distance over the low plain; here, under a fine oak tree,
near a grotto sacred to Pan, is another most copious source of the
Jordan, forming a large stream immediately it springs from the ground,
said to be the largest source of any river in the world, as it forms a
good flowing river at once. It is called by Josephus the Little Jordan,
and is considered by many the chief source, but it is not the most
northerly. We get a grand view here of the great Jordan Valley, looking
down upon a sea of waving corn, spread out in one vast field, almost as
far as the eye can reach. A long ride through lanes and pleasant wooded
country, the road often paved with ruined pillars and old Phœnician
worked stones, brings us at last to Banias, the site of ancient Cæsarea
Philippi, so called Cæsarea by Philip the Tetrarch, in honour of
Tiberius Cæsar, the agnomen Philippi being added by the same gentleman
in honour of himself, and to distinguish it from Cæsarea on the coast
near Jaffa. Agrippa II. called it Neronias in honour of Nero, but in
later times it regained its original name Paneas (which it took from the
Temple of Pan then there), and that was easily corrupted to its present
name Banias. It was once at least visited by Christ (Matt. xvi.).
BANIAS is beautifully situated on a spur of Hermon, on the direct road
to Damascus, which we do not intend to take, preferring to go two days
longer journey round to visit the less frequented parts of Syria. We are
received into a Mahommedan house, and have, as usual, the upper chamber
allotted to us; and have, what is not usual, the daughter of the house
to attend upon us. Veils are dispensed with in this establishment,
except by the mother, who after a while thinks it proper to drape up the
lower part of her face which somewhat improves her appearance. The
accommodation is the same old story, four bare walls. It is quite an
Oriental scene at night. The moon shines brightly on the one-storeyed
flat mud-roofed huts. On the top of each are the members of the various
families sleeping al fresco. Some more fastidious or important
personages rig themselves up a leafy bower on four supports about three
or four feet from the roof—a cool retreat undoubtedly, forming little
tents such as might have been seen in ancient Jerusalem during the feast
of Tabernacles. A cat or two of course come in through the paneless
windows during the night in search of our saddle bags, but a heavy boot
well shot at an Oriental cat helps him out quite as quickly as it would
one of our own domestic favourites. One time, however it misses the mark
and alights on our sleeping dragoman. It was at Banias, by-the-bye, that
Titus celebrated with gladiatorial games the capture of Jerusalem, and
many thousand prisoners perished in the “Sports.”
Early next morning we visit the massive ruins of the old gate, the
grotto of Pan, which gave the name to the city, and the Banias fountains
of the Jordan. The rocks just above the latter are sculptured with
shrines and niches in which statues once stood; there are also Greek
inscriptions which are not very legible.
We now leave Banias by the old western gate, and riding over a slope of
Hermon enter Syria proper. The whole country including Palestine is
often described as Syria, and was all under one Pashalic so called until
lately—Palestine originally included only the country of the
Philistines. We breakfast in a poplar grove in the prosperous Christian
village of Rasheyat el Fûkhar, celebrated for its pottery, which it
supplies to the whole of the northern part of Palestine and Syria, as
far as Damascus. It is refreshing to come across an industrious
manufacturing population, so rare in Palestine except at Gaza and Ramleh
in the south, where jars and lamps are made, and at Nablous (ancient
Shechem), where a coarse native soap is made of olive oil, and exported
as far as Egypt. The Germans at Caifa (under Mount Carmel) are
cultivating this industry also, and turn out a much finer article, which
finds a sale in America, but has not yet made a market in Palestine,
which prefers its native make to that of the Feringhee. We next descend
the mountains by a precipitous path, a new one not tried before by our
guide, down which we with great difficulty drag our horses to
Hibberiyeh, prettily situated in one of the western gorges of Hermon:
here we visit a very ancient well-preserved temple built of Phœnician
bevelled stones principally, but curiously with pilasters and columns
having Ionic capitals—an old Sidonian shrine to Baal probably (as it
faced his temple on the summit of Mount Hermon) altered by the Greeks to
accommodate one of their own deities. The valley is remarkably a Valley
of Rocks; some isolated ones seem to have been formerly sculptured to
imitate the human form divine. The ascent up the other side of the
valley we find very laborious, having again to lead or rather drag our
horses, until at length we arrive at Hâsbeyâ, our quarters for the
night, of which more in our next. The shortest way to Damascus is that
through the wilderness of Damascus by which St. Paul travelled; but the
most beautiful road is that we select, which leads round the slopes of
Hermon.
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