Convent Agriculture. — A Roman Stronghold. — Splendid Olive
Groves. — Water runs short. — The Mirage. — Dine with the
Governor. — The Site of Ancient Barca. — Quit the plain of Merdj.
_October 10th._—The old road, with its deep-worn ruts, from
time to time reappears among the underwood, and its course is
marked for a great distance from the city by groups of broken
sarcophagi and excavated tombs. In four hours and a half, pursuing
a W.S.W. direction, we reached a beautiful hilly country, with fine
old caroub trees and numerous ruins. Here is the chief Zavia, or
convent of the Senoosy Marābuts, called Sidi Rafa’a; it is still
in course of erection, and is a stately building for the country. The
neighbouring ruins supply the materials for the building; and,
by good luck, I arrived while the extensive foundations of a very
large temple, which they were digging up to employ in building
the convent chapel, were still traceable. The masonry of the
substructures, consisting of passages or underground chambers, was
formed of very large stones, squared and cemented with remarkably
white lime. The lintel of a doorway, of very good chiselling,
and a part of a fluted pilaster, were all I could discover of the
architecture. Its situation, in respect of its distance from Cyrene,
and the extent of its ruins, leave no doubt in my mind that here
was the site of Balaerai and its great Temple of Æsculapius. Its
position on the summit of a slight elevation is lovely; the remains
of many other buildings, some of them not insignificant, cover the
ground all around. I should have expected to find a fountain of
medicinal waters near a Temple of Æsculapius (no trace of which
is to be found here), yet none such is mentioned by old writers,
nor could I hear of any place in this direction, or elsewhere at
a similar distance from Cyrene, where such waters exist.
On either side, the country here exhibited signs of more laborious
agriculture than I had yet seen in any other part; the underwood
had been in great part cleared away, and the fields were black
with ashes of burned weeds and brushwood, spread over the ground as
manure, preparatory to sowing. The secret of this unwonted industry
is the possession of the country by a religious order who, here as
elsewhere, spare no effort to turn the property which they have
acquired (partly by purchase, but more largely by donations) to
good account. In this way they may exercise here the same beneficial
influence over husbandry which, during the middle ages, the religious
orders exerted in Europe; they are also active in giving a sort of
Bible-Society education (instruction in reading the Koran) to the
children in the neighbourhood of their dwellings. Unfortunately,
however, it is only in these points that they emulate the Christian
institution to which I have compared them; for with the elements
of learning they instil into the youthful minds of their pupils
feelings of hatred and contempt for the professors of every creed
which differs from their own—a creed very alien from the practice
of Christian charity.
Two hours further on is a fountain with ruins around it, and on
a hill opposite many tombs. The place is called Belandsh, and
its waters fertilise some gardens which are cultivated by Arabs,
who live in the numerous excavations of the neighbourhood. When I
left Derna the grape season was long over; in Grennah, on my return,
not a cluster remained on the few vines grown by the Bedawin: here,
I bought white grapes, with which the trellises were loaded, and
which were not yet ripe. Herodotus speaks of the three climates
of the Cyrenaica, in consequence of which the harvest is carried
on during eight months of the year; and it was interesting to meet
with this practical confirmation of his remark.
From Belandsh the road runs for many hours through a country thickly
strewed with shapeless ruins and sarcophagi, the hill-sides being
almost everywhere burrowed by excavations. Just before reaching a
spring called Maten Ma’as, two hours from the last, is a ruined
castle, to which the people of the neighbourhood have given the name
of Kasr Djemal. It seems to have been originally a Roman stronghold,
added to or repaired in Saracenic times. Riding in a N.W. direction
from this place, along an ancient road, I reached in an hour and ten
minutes (horse-pace), a fine old castle on a hill to the left. On
a square base of rock, formed by an excavated ditch fourteen
feet wide, rises a square tower, which, with the exception of one
vaulted chamber, still entire, is filled with fallen rubbish. In
addition to the ditch, very extensive outworks, which are still
to be traced on all sides, formed its defences: it is now called
Sirt Nawara. That it must have been a place of some importance may
be conjectured, not only from its position, but also from the many
tombs in its neighbourhood, and the carefully-chiselled decorations
of many of their façades. I here found that I had missed the road,
which takes a turn more to the south, and, consequently, had to
ride back to Maten Ma’as, and thence over a range of low hills,
which afforded little shade, and were very hot, being screened, by a
higher range to the north, from the sea-breezes. This road, however,
led, after two hours’ travelling, to a succession of the most
beautiful scenes I ever beheld, even in this beautiful country. A
steep ravine forms the descent from the high ground which we had now
reached, surrounded on either side by lofty rocks, in some places
perpendicular, while in others they slant sufficiently to allow an
accumulation of mould on their slope. Down this the path winds over
fallen rocks, among venerable olive trees and gigantic cypresses,
which grow up among the _débris_ in the bottom of the valleys,
while the receding hills are thickly covered with junipers and
olives. This valley, if cultivated, might produce annually an almost
unlimited quantity of oil: it took me nearly three hours to ride
through it. The trees are probably self-planted, and, doubtless,
the descendants of those which supplied the old Cyrenian commerce
with the oil for which it was so famous: they were covered with an
abundance of fruit. No care is bestowed upon them; many are rather
immense bushes than trees, and their valuable produce serves only as
food for the goats, which eat the fruit greedily as it falls. In the
hands of a speculator possessing capital, an enormous profit might
no doubt be obtained in the course of three or four years, by the
cultivation of these trees; all they require is pruning, and to have
the earth collected round their roots, in order to give a splendid
harvest. The trees are not the wild olive species, though their
fruit is small. Not even in Italy have I seen a country apparently
so well adapted to the cultivation of the olive; but the uncertainty
of tenure of property, the deplorable weakness of the Government,
and the untamed savageness of the Arabs of the neighbourhood,
would certainly render the speculation a hazardous one.
The name of this lovely scene is Aggher bi Haroubeh. On a hill to the
left, on emerging from the ravine, is seen the Castle of Benigdem,
the best preserved of the old forts which are met with everywhere
in the Cyrenaica. It is a rectangular oblong building, with two
square towers slightly advancing from the line of the wall, in the
centres of the longer sides. One of these towers is still in great
part perfect, having three stories of windows. The second story is
vaulted, and has on each side two windows looking outwards. The
walls are built double, of stones carefully squared both within
and without, leaving a space filled in with rubble, thus increasing
the thickness and strength at little expense. I have remarked that
the same method of building is employed in many of the old forts
in this neighbourhood, and also further south. On the north side,
a low arched gateway, commanded from the tower, seems to have been
the only entrance to the fort, which was further defended by a
low outwork, built of squared stones, still easily traced. The
interior is now so filled with the ruins of fallen walls, that
it is impossible to distinguish its arrangement. Hence, I rode on
through the hills to another old fortalice of very small dimensions,
where I slept. The distance from Maten Ma’as to this place, for
which I could learn no name, is eight hours of camel travelling. The
tents were pitched among hills of great beauty, covered with wood,
overlooking a rich plain, through which runs the lower road from
Grennah to Merdj. This we followed the next day; and during ten hours
of travelling, the country presented a succession of richly-wooded
scenery, frequented by innumerable covies of partridges. This day,
five hours after starting, I made a detour to the right through
a long winding valley, which leads towards the coast, through
the country of the Dirsah Arabs, but did not meet with any ruins
of importance. The camel-drivers took advantage of my absence to
journey on to a later hour than I usually travelled; the process
of pitching the tents and preparing dinner being very much impeded
after sunset. They were, however, disappointed in their hopes of
reaching water; and we had now travelled two days without finding
any. The skins had all been filled; but, during the first day, with
the ordinary recklessness of Arabs, they had drunk a large part of
our provision, and there would have been none left for the evening,
had not my servant taken possession of the last remaining skin,
so as to secure it for the evening meal. In consequence of this,
there was great suffering from thirst among my followers. The
Arabs here are not abstemious, for they drink water in enormous
quantities whenever they can get it, and when they cannot thus
indulge their thirst, they seem to suffer very much. My own rule
in drinking is to take a cup of coffee in the middle of the day,
rarely adding a small cup of water, flavoured with raki, to destroy
any insects it may contain. I make a practice of not drinking at
other times during the journey; and I do this both from finding the
advantage of such abstinence, and for the sake of example to the
servants, in a country where water is sometimes so precious. The
day following there was of course great haste to reach the wells,
which the evening before, when I stopped them, the camel-drivers
represented as close at hand. I rode on through an open country,
anxious to obtain water for the horses, which had not drunk for
two days; but it took three hours and a half to reach the Wady el
Gharib, at the upper end of which are many wells. When at last I
reached them, we had no means of drawing the water; and some Arabs,
who were watering their sheep there, absolutely refused, for love or
money, according to their own expression, to supply us. They were
only five in number; and I had great difficulty in persuading my
servant (though he had only the previous evening wounded his right
hand so as to make it useless), not to take possession of the well
by force. This would have been easy enough, but after my complaints
against the marābut at Grennah, I was anxious to preserve a good
character for peaceable conduct. It took the camels nearly an hour
and a half longer to reach the wells; and not doubting that, on
seeing the number of the party, the Arabs would yield us a supply,
at least enough for the horses, I possessed my soul in patience
in the interval. When at last they came up, I acknowledge that,
in my heart, I was not well pleased to see my people quietly submit
to be refused accommodation by the Arabs, without taking forcible
possession of their cord and bucket; but, true to my system, I
kept the Sultan’s peace, and contented myself, when the caravan
had moved on, with riding down to them, and assuring them that I
should have them punished, having in the meantime found out their
names. The Governor of Merdj, on my complaint, promised they should
be sent for and punished; and to make sure of his having kept his
word, I renewed my complaint, through the English Consul, to the
Bey of Benghazi. These Arabs belonged to the tribe of Abid, whom I
have already mentioned as notorious for their predatory habits and
discourtesy to strangers. From the well we rode on for five hours,
in hopes of reaching Merdj that evening; but an hour after sunset,
when we had climbed a steep wooded hill, we found that we were still
only on the edge of the vast plain thus named. It was already dark;
on all sides a hundred fires marked the dwellings of the Bedawin,
who encamp here in great numbers for the convenience of the wells,
of which there are in all upwards of forty around the castle. I sent
a camel for water, but it was midnight before it returned; so that
we were in some discomfort, no cooking having been possible, though
I found an unhoped for consolation in my nargila, in filling which
a servant had stupidly used the last drop of our water. The next
morning, starting early, it took the camels four hours to reach the
Medina, as the part of the plain on which the newly-erected castle is
built, is called. In the maps, two large lakes are marked as existing
in this locality, and before us, immediately in front of the castle,
lay an immense expanse of clear water, unruffled by a breath of air,
and every object on its banks reflected in it, as if in a mirror. It
receded as we approached, and at length disappeared altogether; but
on turning round, I saw my camels, which followed at a considerable
distance, wading up to their knees in the magic fluid. I had often
seen the mirage in the Desert, where it is of frequent occurrence,
but the deception was much less real. Here, for some time, I had no
suspicion that the lake, round which I contemplated a long detour
in the hot sun with no pleasant feelings, would vanish on coming
nearer. These lakes, which make a formidable appearance on the map,
really exist sometimes for years together; they owe their origin
entirely to the autumnal or winter rains, and dry up after two
or three seasons of drought, such as of the preceding years. On
approaching the castle, in front of which lie the greater number
of the wells, the scene presented to us was the most primitively
pastoral I had ever witnessed. Immense herds and flocks, collected in
groups, covered a very large space, while boys and women were busily
engaged in drawing water, which they poured into skins stretched on
hoops, for the cattle to drink from. Many short trunks of columns
are placed near each other triangularly, so as to support the edges
of the hoops, while the skins form a basin. The sun was very hot,
and the earth here is of a red colour; and, though not yet midday,
the air, from these causes, seemed to have that warm tone which we
admire in some of Both’s evening landscapes.
I rode at once to the castle, after procuring water for my horses
from one of the fair Rebeccas at the wells, and was very kindly
received by the Kehia or Governor. The ill-lighted, cool council-room
to which he conducted me, empty of everything but the divan at one
end, was most refreshing after exposure to the fiery heat of the
plain. Dinner was almost immediately afterwards served, and I sat
down with him, the commandant of the few soldiers stationed here,
and half-a-dozen Arabs, whom he summoned by name from the door. When
dinner had been dispatched, the only term applicable to Arab eating,
I remarked a custom which had on other occasions struck me. Of
those who had dipped their hands in the same dishes with us, all
went out after washing except my host, the commandant, and one of
the Arabs, who was specially invited to stay: after their departure
coffee was served. I remember having heard a story from one of the
most spiritual of my friends, which is applicable to the case in
point. Several years ago he spent some time at one of the smaller
German courts, where the number of the rules of etiquette is in the
inverse ratio to the numbers of the population. For many days one
of his neighbours at dinner—a most agreeable and well-informed
man—regularly left the room when the _rôti_ was served, making
a low bow in rising from his place. His departure did not at first
attract my friend’s attention, but as the same scene occurred
daily, he at length turned to his other neighbour and asked him the
meaning of it; expecting to hear that the man had an aversion to
roast meat, such as some people have to cats. The answer was simply,
“Herr N. ist nicht bratenfähig;” that is, Herr N. may sup his
soup, and enjoy the entrées and relevés, but he is not well born
enough to partake of roast beef in this company. Thus any Arab may
with propriety enjoy the Bey’s good dinner, but he must not hope
to drink his coffee after it. A similar custom seems once to have
existed in England. In Shadwell’s “Lancashire Witches,” Sir
Timothy says to his uncle, “What a murrain do we keep you for,
but to sit at the lower end of the board at meals, rise, make a leg,
and take away your plate at second course.”
The site of the castle, surrounded by many fragments of ancient
buildings, is that of Barca, daughter and rival of Cyrene, and
even under the Arab domination (long after the parent city was a
heap of ruins), a flourishing town. The ground is literally strewn
with fragments of small columns, the ruins of the Saracenic city,
and the line of its walls is still distinctly traceable. The castle,
which was only begun a year ago, on the site of the ancient citadel,
is built of ancient materials dug up on the spot. Many capitals of
columns, of debased Greek workmanship, and many entire columns,
have been found in digging out materials for its construction,
but nothing dating even as far back as the time of the Ptolemies. I
found the base of a column, of white marble, lying among the rubbish,
which had formerly been a cube, having on four of its sides Greek
inscriptions. Judging from the form of the letters which remain,
I should suppose them to be of about the first century of our era;
but it was not possible to decipher the meaning of the inscription,
as each line was more than half effaced on the side which has been
turned downwards, and only single letters of each line remained
on two other sides. In its present condition it may be of the
fourth or fifth century. Cufic inscriptions are not unfrequently
discovered here; one, lately found, had been placed above the
door of the council-room, but was so thickly whitewashed as to be
quite illegible. Two capitals of columns, in white marble, with
the Moslem profession of faith beautifully inscribed round each in
raised flowered letters, had just been built into the sides of the
minbar of a mosque which the Kehia is building, one of the capitals
being turned upside down. He begged me to go to see the progress of
the work, to assure him, by means of the compass, if the Kibleh was
rightly placed, and this gave me an opportunity of seeing the simple,
or rather rude, fashion in which the light arches are thrown from
pillar to pillar. There was no scaffolding used beyond two planks
for the mason to stand on, neither was there any wooden centering,
but the stones, cut to the proper shape, were, one after another,
handed up to the mason, who secured them in their places with
cement; a few loose stones were made to support them: the arch being
thus gradually built up from each side, the keystone was at last
added, and then the planks were immediately removed, the arch being
considered solid enough to require no further care. The arches were
pointed, and each composed of eleven or thirteen stones. In another
building, intended for an oil-press, I found a large circular arch,
twenty feet in width, in process of erection. Here a long board had
been run across the breadth of the building; in its centre a nail
served as a pivot for a long strip of pointed wood, by which the
mason decided the position of each stone as he placed it. There were
several small houses in progress, destined to form the nucleus of a
town, which the Kehia hopes to see rebuilt. This was the only place
in the whole country where I had seen anything like enterprise. The
Kehia is a clever man, and, in conjunction with the Bey of Benghazi,
whose dependant he is, he had undertaken these works in hopes of
making a profitable speculation out of the oil of the uncultivated
olive trees in the neighbourhood. It was with a sincere wish for
his success, which cannot fail to be followed by increased industry
and gradual civilisation of the district, that I took leave of him,
having spent two days in the Medina, during both of which the hot
south wind had blown with great force, raising clouds of red dust. It
was the first time I had experienced this wind in the Cyrenaica.