THE third province of Western Palestine is divided into two regions—Upper and Lower Galilee. Lower Galilee was surveyed in 1872 and 1875. Upper Galilee was completed in 1877 under the direction of my companion, Lieutenant Kitchener, R.E., who joined the party in the autumn of 1875. During this year, when the field party was engaged in Upper Galilee, I was employed in London in charge of the drawing of the map, executed by Ordnance Survey draughtsmen, and writing the Memoirs of the country already surveyed, consisting of five-sixths of the total area. Upper Galilee, however, I visited in 1873, and again in 1882, and have thus had occasion to explore almost every important site within its limits.

The boundaries of Lower Galilee include the great plain of Esdraelon and the Nazareth hills, with the smaller plains to the north and east, which stretch to the mountains of Naphtali. No part of Palestine is fuller of interesting sites, and several important discoveries were here made, including a synagogue in ruins on Mount Carmel, and the probable remains of the city of Megiddo.

Before the survey was made, Megiddo—one of the most important places in Palestine—was supposed to be identical with the Roman city of Legio. The reason which induced Dr. Robinson to make this suggestion seems to have been that Megiddo is several times mentioned in the Old Testament with Taanach, a ruined town near Legio. In other passages, however, Megiddo is noticed with Bethshean and Ibleam, places east of the great plain, so that the argument has no great force. There is only one place in Palestine where a name at all like that of Megiddo exists, namely, at the large ruin of Mujedd’a, a well-watered site at the foot of Mount Gilboa, just where the valley of Jezreel opens into the Jordan plain south-west of Bethshean.

Megiddo appears as an important place very early in history. Thothmes III. here fought a great battle against the allied Canaanites on his way to Damascus, and has left us a catalogue of his spoils, which gives a most vivid picture of Canaanite civilisation. Chariots of silver and gold, precious stones, bronze armour, Phoenician arms, gold and silver currency, statues and tables of precious metal, ivory, and cedar, are mentioned as Canaanite trophies, with wine, incense, corn, sycamore wood, goats and oxen, mulberries, figs, and “green wood of their fair forests,”—perhaps referring to the oaks of Mount Tabor. Such, according to the Egyptian monuments, were the products of Palestine in the sixteenth century B.C., before the Hebrew invasion under Joshua.

About two centuries later, an Egyptian traveller records how he came down from the shores of the Sea of Galilee to the “fords of Jordan” and to the “passage of Megiddo.” In the Bible we find Megiddo to be the place where Josiah awaited Necho, the Egyptian king, then on his way to Carchemish, on the Euphrates. In every case this point appears to have been that where Egyptian invaders fought for the passage of Jordan on their way to Assyria. There is little now to be seen at Mujedd’a beyond a mound such as marks the site of many another famous city, but the spot is one well fitted for a great town, on account of the fine supply of water from the springs below.[41] The site has a further interest, because from Megiddo was named the Har-Mageddon, or “Mountain of Megiddo,” better known as Armageddon (Rev. xvi. 16)—the author of the Apocalypse evidently referring to the old battle-field of Canaan, which is also noticed in the Book of Zechariah (xii. 11), in connection with the mourning of Hadadrimmon.

Above Megiddo on the west are the barren ridges of Gilboa, where Saul fell in battle, and between this and the Carmel range is the V-shaped corn plain of Esdraelon. In the north-east corner of this plain is the volcanic cone of Nebi Dhahy, and beyond this, on the north, the mole-hill form of Tabor. Nebi Dhahy is named from a little white saint-house on its summit, sacred to a Moslem hero, whose bones are said to have been carried hither from the Kishon by his dog. Probably he is to be connected with Dhahya el Kelbi (Dhahya of the Dog), who was converted before the Battle of the Ditch, according to Moslem chronicles. It is curious that sacred dogs occur more than once in Palestine folk-tales, for the dog is an unclean beast to the Moslem, while, on the other hand, to the Persians it was amongst the most sacred of animals. The Tyrian Hercules was accompanied by a dog, and a sculpture which perhaps represents this group is still to be seen on the rocks not far from Tyre.

Mount Tabor is one of the few places in Western Palestine where the oak grows as a forest tree in abundance. There is an oak wood also west of Nazareth, and an open forest of scattered oak trees in the Sharon plain, but east of Jordan it is found in Mount Gilead in greater luxuriance. In the glades of Tabor it is said that the fallow-deer still lingers, but we never came across one of them. On Carmel, on the other hand, the roebuck is still hunted, and this species—the existence of which in Palestine was quite unknown before—we found to bear the name YahmÛr, which occurs in the Bible as the Hebrew word for a species of deer. I afterwards found that the YahmÛr was known to the Arabs east of Jordan, no doubt as a denizen of the oak woods of Mount Gilead.

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MOUNT TABOR.
MOUNT TABOR.

Tabor has been pointed out from the time when the heretical “Gospel of the Hebrews” was penned as the site of the Transfiguration. There are ruins of a great Crusading Church on its summit, dedicated to this event; but the New Testament clearly points to some part of Hermon as the site intended. This is not the only instance in which traditions, dating back even earlier than the fourth century A.D., are in conflict with the plain reading of the Bible narratives.

The chain of Carmel, a region little visited by tourists, presents one of the most picturesque districts in Galilee. At one time it seems to have been fully populated, and traces of vineyards were discovered in many places. The main ridge runs for fifteen miles, and rises at the highest point 1700 feet above the Mediterranean. The north slopes are steep, and in parts precipitous, but on the south-west long spurs run out towards the sea. A dense brushwood of oak, mastic, and arbutus covers the greater part of the chain; and of the former villages, only two are now inhabited by Druze families from the north. The generally accepted view places the scene of Elijah’s sacrifice on the highest part of the crest, still called “the place of burning,” but the tradition represented by a large monastery above the promontory which juts into the Mediterranean, points to the opposite end of the ridge.

The most interesting discoveries on Carmel were made in 1872, including the ruins of a small Jewish synagogue and a tomb with a Hebrew inscription. Inscribed tombs in Palestine are almost unknown, three of the five as yet discovered being found by my party. That near Ain Sinia (the ancient Jeshanah), found by Mr. Tyrwhitt Drake, has been already noticed. The text is probably of about the first century B.C., and includes the name of “Moses bar Eleazar ... the priest.” A second was in the Jordan Valley; the third, on the south side of Carmel, records the name of Eleazar bar Azariah. The forms of the letters are ancient and peculiar; the name recalls that of a very celebrated Rabbi who died in Galilee in 135 A.D. There are many gravestones and inscribed sarcophagi in early square Hebrew characters, both at Jerusalem and at Jaffa, but no such archaic text has elsewhere been found on a rock-cut tomb. The letters are rudely cut over the tomb-door, and were originally painted red to increase their distinctness.

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CARMEL.
CARMEL.

A very unpleasant adventure occurred to me in connection with the exploration of the group of tombs where this inscription was found. As before said, the region was lawless. I have been stalked by the “club-bearing” brigand Arabs in the plains to the west, and in many of the tombs we found skulls of recent date, often with marks of violence. The rock cemetery near Umm ez ZeinÂt, to which I now refer, was remarkable, because the tomb-doors were roughly closed with piled-up stones. I did not pay much attention to this, or to a skeleton which I found in one tomb, but I retreated somewhat rapidly from another when, striking a light, I found myself kneeling in a large chamber, and surrounded with quite fresh corpses of both sexes. As Moslems are buried east and west, with the face to Mecca, whereas these bodies lay in various directions on the floor, it seemed probable that they were those of murdered persons, or of the victims of some epidemic disease.

The Galilean synagogues are among the most interesting ruins in Palestine. They were known before the Survey, many having being visited, and even excavated, by Sir Charles Wilson. The Carmel example was the only one added to the list, and was much less perfect than some examples in Upper Galilee. Synagogues are indeed mentioned in the New Testament, but in Palestine they seem to have become important chiefly after the destruction of the Temple at Jerusalem. Synagogues are noted in one of the Psalms (lxxiv. 8) in the English version, but the Hebrew word in this passage (properly “meeting-places”) is not the same usually applied to the buildings of a later age in the Talmud. The architectural style of the synagogues is a curious imitation of Roman architecture of the Antonine period, and it is to this age that Jewish tradition refers the building of the Galilean synagogues. It appears to me very doubtful if any one of these structures was in existence in the time of Christ. The Hebrew text which occurs on the gateway of the Kefr Bir’im synagogue is ascribed by competent authority (from the forms of the letters) to the second or third century of our era. The text runs in a single line under the semi-classic mouldings of the lintel stone, consisting, as read by Renan, of the words, “Peace be to this place, and upon all the places of God. Joseph the Levite, the son of Levi, put up this lintel. A blessing rest upon his work.”

It is easy for those who think only of the destruction of Jerusalem by Titus and of the persecution of the Jews by Christian emperors to forget how peaceful and prosperous was the life of the Galilean Rabbis in the second century under the tolerant Antonines. After the fatal revolt of Bar Cochebas, the Sanhedrim sat for a while at Jamnia in Philistia, but gradually the centre was shifted to Galilee, and soon Tiberias became the central focus of Judaism in Palestine. It was here that the Mishna was written, and many are the famous teachers of the Talmud whose graves were made in the Galilean mountains or on the shores of Gennesareth. To this period of toleration it is therefore natural to attribute the execution of works as ambitious as are the synagogues still standing in ruins.

One of the most curious facts connected with these buildings is the frequent representation of animal forms. In one case I copied two well-designed lions flanking a vase, and on Carmel a rude repetition of the same design occurs. In other instances rams’ heads and a hare are represented in relief; yet there was perhaps no period when the commands of the Law, which forbade the representation of the likeness of any living thing, were more rigorously observed. In Moslem art, also, it has always been considered impious to carve the figures of beasts and birds; yet I have found on the walls of towns and castles representations of lions clearly due to Moslem sculptors. In this case there is less difficulty, because the newly converted Mongols and Turks very probably rebelled against such restrictions, having long been accustomed to the use of heraldic crests; but it is hard to reconcile the ornamentation of the synagogues with the letter of the Law, so strictly enforced by the Rabbis.

The synagogues are long buildings, divided into walks by rows of pillars, and having generally the entrance doors on the south; perhaps because, as we learn from Rabbinical writers, the north side was considered unlucky. At the doorway end of the building are generally found two double columns, fitted to give extra support. It was suggested to me by a gentleman, whose name unfortunately escapes my memory, that these pillars must have been intended to carry the gallery for the women; for it was a custom in Israel, even when the Temple was still standing, to separate the sexes, the women being placed in an upper balcony, where they could not be seen by the men, just as we find the mosques of the present day to be arranged, or as the great church of St. Sophia at Constantinople is built with spacious galleries for women.

Perhaps the best-known spot in Galilee is the brow of the hill above Nazareth, whence the traveller commands a view of the greater part of the province. On the north is the high rough chain where Safed stands; on the east, the plain where the Crusading kingdom was crushed by Saladin; on the south, Tabor and Gilboa, and Ebal blue in the distance; on the west, the dark outline of bushy Carmel, the round bay, and the city of St. Jean d’Acre; in the nearer mid-distance, the great plain of Issachar and the oak woods of Zebulon. On every side the memory of great battles rises to the mind. By the springs of Kishon, under Tabor, Barak defeated the iron chariots of Canaan, which sank in the boggy stream; farther south, the Philistines defeated Saul; up the valley of Jezreel came Jehu, driving furiously to Jezreel; and farther down the two battles of Megiddo were fought. Round Acre the traces of Napoleon’s siege-works may still be seen; and it was at the battle of Tabor that the simple-minded Junot won his fame, driving the Turks into the same swamps in which the forces of Sisera perished. Near Seffurieh, on the north, the Christian host gathered when it went forth to meet the Moslems coming up from Tiberias on the fatal day of the battle of Hattin. There is no region in Syria where great hosts have so frequently met in great and decisive combats.

When first we look at the map of a country, it is hard to realise how few are the points where armies can meet; but the student of history and of geography knows well that simple physical causes, ever present, so narrow the lines of advance that famous battles constantly recur in the same places—whether at some mountain pass, by the fords of some considerable river, or beside the springs on which an army depends for water. Thus not only have the battle-fields of Palestine proved to be the same in all ages, but, even with our somewhat changed methods and new tactics, it is certain that future battles, if they take place in Syria, must be on the same fields, by Tabor at Megiddo, or farther north, where the main road crosses the Euphrates, at the old battle-field of Carchemish.

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NAIN.
NAIN.

There are other memories which this famous view calls up to the mind. The little town of Nain, where the widow’s son was brought out to meet the Saviour and His followers; the long road from Shunem to the wilds of Carmel, pursued by the mother who went to seek Elisha; the paths leading to Cana and to Bethabarah; the many chapels which recall episodes in the life of the Christ. These spots have all become sacred within the last nineteen centuries, and their associations mingle strangely with those of battle and disaster; but Galilee always holds a different place in our minds from any other part of Palestine, because it is the cradle of Christianity and the chief scene of the Gospel narratives.

Of Nazareth itself there is little to be said. It was always a secluded and unimportant place, and probably at the present day is larger and more important than even when it was the see of a Latin bishop. The cave-cisterns, which have been traditionally regarded for many centuries as the “Holy House,” of which part was carried by angels to Loretto, are enclosed in a modern church on the foundations of a Byzantine chapel, converted later into a Crusading cathedral. The Greek church farther north, over the spring head, is the reputed site of the Annunciation, according to the Eastern belief. Another Christian sect was busy, when I first visited Nazareth, in consecrating a round table of rock, which seemed to be newly hewn, but which was to be revered as the Mensa Christi, where Jesus had once sat with His disciples. Such sites have little claim to attention, since no hint is to be found in the Gospels of their locality or preservation. Nor are the mediÆval legends connected with the “Leap of our Lord,” at the cliff where the road runs up to Nazareth from the great plain, of interest, save to the student of the curious Crusading chronicles. Antoninus, the pious pilgrim of the time of Justinian, says that “in this city the beauty of the Hebrew women is so great that no more beautiful women are found among the Hebrews, and this, they say, was granted them by the Blessed Mary, who they say was their mother.” The same is said in our own times of the Christian women of the town, and of those in Bethlehem also. Certainly their type of beauty is very superior to that of the peasant women of Moslem villages. The Nazareth girls are more Italian than Arab in feature, and often very comely; but there are many ways of explaining this besides the theory of Crusading ancestry. We must not forget that in Syria mixed types, half Aryan, have long existed, due to Greek, or Italian, or Frankish forefathers, and the blue eyes sometimes seen in Syria may be due to yet later admixture of European blood. More weight is, I think, to be given to such facts than to a comparison with blue and green eyes in the faded pictures at Karnak, which represent the Canaanites. The fairness of the Nazareth women is denied by PÈre Lievin’s orthodox guide-book, and by the Franciscan fathers—mainly Italians—who have monasteries at Nazareth and at Bethlehem.

North of Nazareth lie the two sites which have at various times been regarded as representing Cana of Galilee. It is curious that Robinson, usually so careful, has confused them together. The one is the Christian village of Kefr Kenna, which was certainly regarded, before the Crusaders arrived, as the true site. Thus Antoninus places it three miles from Sepphoris, which can only apply to Kefr Kenna. The other site is the ruin of KÂnah, four miles farther north. The distances given by writers of the twelfth century show most clearly that this was the supposed site in Crusading times. Robinson has twisted the earlier traditions, making them to apply to the more distant ruin; but the reader can measure the distances on the map for himself. This is not the only case in which the views of the Frankish monks of the Latin kingdom differed from the earlier traditions of the Eastern Church, but it is hard to say which is in this case the more reliable, though the opinion of most writers is in favour of Kefr Kenna.[42]

The Buttauf plain is for the most part arable land, well cultivated, but towards the north there is a pestilent swamp surrounded by reeds—whence the name KÂnah, from the “canes.” Camping on the borders of this unhealthy morass, we suffered from the inevitable fever, as well as from the most notable mosquitoes in Palestine. The delay at this spot was, however, unavoidable, since the line of levels had to be carried across this plain from the Mediterranean to the Sea of Galilee, and accurate levelling is not rapidly completed in any country. Here also we examined, more closely than our predecessors, one of the smaller synagogues, and I was interested to find that its dimensions were multiples of a cubit of sixteen inches, as are also many dimensions of the Jerusalem Temple. The researches of the great Jewish writer Maimonides point to this length for the Jewish unit of measurement, which was not the same as the Egyptian cubit of about twenty-one inches—a question which is of no little importance in the study of Jewish antiquities.

On the east side of the Buttauf plain, not far north of the curious cromlech now shown as the scene of “Feeding the Multitude,” rises the dark crag of the “Horns of Hattin”—a place celebrated for its connection with the great battle in which Saladin defeated the forces of Christendom. The story of that battle, of the fatal dissensions among the Christians, and their lack of strategical skill, their vacillation and rashness, forms one of the most remarkable incidents in mediÆval history. The unhappy King Guy of Lusignan had lain with his hosts by the fountains of Sepphoris for many months, awaiting the attack which it was foreseen would follow the loss of the Castle of Banias and the defeat of the Grand Master of the Templars near Tiberias. Whether through evil fortune or because of hidden designs, the Templars seem always to have been responsible for the great failures of the Latin kingdom. Raymond of Tripoli gave good and disinterested advice, for though his lady was besieged in Tiberias, he was willing to lose all, seeing that the only chance of victory lay in the choice of a battle-field close to the springs of Sepphoris. “Between this place and Tiberias,” he said, “there is not a drop of water. We shall all die of thirst before we get there.” But the Templars prevailed, and on the night of the 1st of July 1187, in the hottest season of the year, the army moved out over a plain which, east of Kefr Kenna, is entirely waterless.

The Saracens had, therefore, the advantage, for there were several springs behind their position. The Arab and Kurdish horsemen harassed the heavy-armed knights and set fire to the dry grass and stubble, which, in 1875, I saw in flames sweeping over this plain and destroying great part of a village by our camp. There was no water for the Franks, but a hot sun, with clouds of dust, smoke, and flames. The issue of the day was not long doubtful, and the army melted away as the deserters threw down their arms and begged for water from their enemies. Only 150 knights gathered round the royal standard on the rocky Horns of Hattin, and here the chiefs and princes of the kingdom were taken alive. The Holy Cross was lost, and with it went the Latin kingdom. Only Raymond, with Balian of Ibelin and his followers, were able to fight their way from the scene of this great disaster, and thus escaped to Tyre.

Renaud of Chatillon, the proud and treacherous lord of Kerak—his great castle by the Dead Sea—whose misdeeds were among the chief causes of the destruction of Crusading power, was the only prisoner whom Saladin slew, having first offered him his life if he would become a Moslem. Iced sherbet was ordered for King Guy in the conqueror’s tent, and the King handed the cup to Renaud. “Thou hast given him drink, not I,” said Saladin, and so pronounced the doom of a foe more feared by Islam than any other Christian in the kingdom; for he had sailed with his men almost to Mecca, and threatened the very centre of Mohammedan faith.

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THE SEA OF GALILEE.
THE SEA OF GALILEE.

From the neighbourhood of Hattin the eye glances over nearly the whole of the Sea of Galilee, and the scene, which is unlike any other in Palestine, is not easily forgotten. Yet familiar though it is from many descriptions and pictures, it is difficult to bring to the mind of those who have not seen it. The scenery has not the wild and barren grandeur of the Dead Sea precipices, nor has it the rich wooded beauty of English lakes. It is quiet and simple in both outline and colour, and the finest effects depend on the passing shadow of the thunderstorm or the long shades of the sunset. The first view is generally from the top of the steep slope above Tiberias, with the flat plateau of the Hauran above the cliffs to the east, and the peak of the “Hill of Bashan” in the far distance. On the north-east are the volcanic cones of the JaulÂn; on the north-west a long slope rises to the Safed ridge. The shore is here indented with tiny bays and strewn with black basalt stones. The cliffs of Wady HamÂm above Magdala, and those south of Tiberias on the west shore, extending to Kerak (TaricheÆ) at the Jordan outlet, are among the boldest features of the scene. The lake itself is pear-shaped, twelve miles long and eight at its broadest measurement, east and west. The placid waves reflect the water-worn gullies of the eastern cliffs, save when tossed by the gusts that sweep down Wady HamÂm before the heavy thunder-showers which are here frequent in autumn.

The shores of the Sea of Galilee had been surveyed and thoroughly explored by Sir Charles Wilson before the Survey reached this region, and no important discovery was added to his exhaustive account. The sites of several important places, such as Magdala, Chorazin, Tiberias, TaricheÆ, and Sinnabris, with Gamala on the east, are certainly fixed. Hippos (now Susieh) may now be added to these, with Hammath and Rakkath.[43]

The three sites on the shore of the lake which are most discussed represent three conditions of our knowledge of ancient Palestine topography. Bethsaida is practically unknown. Capernaum is the subject of controversy, and Chorazin is certain. In the latter case the name survives at KerÂzeh; in the other two the modern ruins do not preserve in recognisable form the Hebrew titles.

As regards Bethsaida, a city of that name existed at the mouth where the Jordan entered the lake; and the point which struck me most on visiting the ground was that this spot cannot be supposed to be the same at which the river now opens into the Sea of Galilee. Most rivers, and especially those like the Jordan, which flow through soft soil, have within historic times lengthened themselves by the formation of deltas at their mouths. There is a Jordan delta in the Dead Sea very distinctly marked, and the north shore of the Sea of Galilee must also have been widened by Jordan river deposits. Since the time of Ptolemy the Nile Delta has grown considerably, and since the days of Sennacherib the Euphrates has become nearly one hundred miles longer. For this reason Bethsaida Julias must be sought somewhere, as placed by Robinson, near Et Tell.

As regards Capernaum, Sir Charles Wilson has clearly shown that the site of Tell HÛm has been regarded by all the pilgrims, from the fourth century downwards, as representing the celebrated city of the Gospels. Yet, as we have had occasion to remark on previous pages, Christian tradition is not invariably a safe guide; and, after reading all the chief discussions of the question, and visiting all the sites, it seems to me impossible to fix on Tell HÛm as being the place intended by Josephus or by the Evangelists. I think, rather, that Robinson’s view is correct, and that the ruin of Minieh not only represents Capernaum, but preserves the contemptuous Jewish appellation for that town, “The city of the Minai” or “heretics”—a term by which the Christians were intended. Within the limits of this volume it is, however, impossible to detail the reasons which have led me to this view, and which I have fully explained in previous works.

A very curious legend may be noticed in connection with the Sea of Galilee. According to some Jewish and Moslem writers, the Messiah is first to appear in the future, rising from the waters of the lake. This idea appears to be of Persian origin. At all events, it is found in very early Persian literature, and it is not recognisable in the Bible. In one of the Yashts or hymns of the Zendavesta, we read of the lake in the far east, out of which Saoshyant, the Zoroastrian Messiah, will rise in the last days. Such recurrence of Persian legends is not uncommon, both in the Talmud and in the KorÂn, which borrowed largely from the Zoroastrian literature.

Before entering Upper Galilee there is one famous site which should be described, and which is very rarely visited, namely, the mountain fortress of Gotapata, which Josephus, the celebrated historian, defended against Vespasian and Titus for forty-seven days during the revolt in Galilee before the fall of Jerusalem. The ruin stands on a high spur in the mountains, north of the Buttauf plain, surrounded by deep valleys and rugged ridges clothed with brushwood. I reached the spot by a bridle-path from the north-wes in the autumn of 1875, and found that the various features agreed very closely with Josephus’ description, although an exaggeration, pardonable in one who wrote at a distance and many years later, seems to have crept into his account both of the place and of the events. He speaks of giddy precipices where only rugged slopes can be found, and one would certainly have expected the site to have been larger. The hill, over half a mile to the north, where Vespasian camped, is, however, easily recognised, and the statement that the city was only approachable on this side agrees with fact.

The Roman energy is well shown by the nature of the mountain up which they dragged their heavy battering-rams and the iron casings for their siege towers. The rocky knoll of the fortress of Gotapata is now bare of ruins, but there are foundations of a tower on the north, where Josephus built his wall, and cisterns (some still holding water), recalling the straits of the besieged during the summer, due to the absence of any supply save that from rain-water.

No soldier reading Josephus’ account can fail to see that it was penned by one who had experienced war, and in whose memory certain awful incidents were for ever imprinted. He remembers the terrible fire from the catapults, the gleam of the Roman spears in the sunlight, the darts of the Arab and Syrian auxiliary archers, the thud “which the dead bodies made when they were dashed against the wall” (III. Wars, vii. 23). He delights in recalling his own stratagems and inventions, and has no scruple in telling how he feared and despaired. Banks were raised in due form by the Romans, and screens of raw hide by the defenders to catch the stones and arrows. The spies sent by Josephus crept out in the dusk among the woods towards the west, covered with sheep-skins, so as to be taken when seen for straying beasts. At one time the Jewish general meant to desert his post, but he was overcome by the entreaties of the poor peasants, who wept and kissed his feet. The heavy armour of the Romans proved a disadvantage against the sudden attacks of the Jews, who sallied out even as far as their camp. The silent valleys re-echoed the cries of the women and of the combatants. “Nor was there anything of terror wanting.” When, on the fortieth day of the siege, the trumpets of the legions sounded a general assault, the enemy were met with streams of boiling oil, which flowed inside the armour, and made the scaling ladders slippery, Josephus held out yet another week, and Gotapata was finally surprised at night by Titus himself. The caves, in one of which Josephus hid, are still to be seen in the rock, recalling his curious account of many hairbreadth escapes; for those who sought refuge in the caves cast lots to kill each other, and the lot left Josephus and one other to the last. These two alone surrendered to Nicanor, a Roman friend of the historian’s, and but for the throw of a die (if we may trust his account) we should never have possessed that stirring story of the wars against Rome which Josephus lived to write, and should have depended solely on the curt and cynical chronicles of the Jew-hating Tacitus.

The survey of Upper Galilee was interrupted in the autumn of 1875 by an attack on the party at Safed. This was our only serious collision with natives, and it was due to the fanatical intolerance of the Algerine Moslems, who formed a foreign colony in the town, and held the unfortunate Jewish population in daily terror.

Our relations with natives of all creeds and races had always been excellent, and so remained afterwards. A little rigour was occasionally necessary when my men were pelted with stones, or when the muleteers in camp fought with knives; but our actions were always legal, and a Turkish policeman attached to the party was employed to take offenders before the local magistrates. There were no complaints against any of the party; and indeed, as we spent money, employed labour, and bought provisions at a good price, the Survey was always popular in Palestine. But at Safed a Christian was then rarely seen, and fanaticism always lives longest in the mountains. It is possible that some imprudent speech of the dragoman may have enraged the Emir who attacked us. Certainly a pistol belonging to our party was stolen, and was the immediate cause of the quarrel; but I never expected it to become serious until the furious Algerine attacked me with a knife. Few readers will blame me for knocking him down, and breaking his tooth; but the result was an attack by his followers with stones, and swords, and aged guns. Several shots were fired at us, but no one was hit. They, however, broke my head badly with a club, and I was defended by Lieutenant Kitchener, while I lay for a few moments stunned. I fear that I broke the head of the clubman afterwards even worse, but the party was never out of hand. We were armed with shot-guns and pistols, but we never fired a shot, and defended our tents without bloodshed until the police arrived. The enraged Algerines threatened to kill us during the night, but we kept watch with our guns loaded with ball-cartridge, hastily made up, and only in the morning did we march off the field in good order. The worst hurt was that of my groom, who was an old soldier. His head was laid open with a sword-cut, and had to be sewn up; but he accompanied us for several years after; and except a cook and a scribe little accustomed to such scenes, none of the natives in our party showed any signs of fear in face of the howling mob.

When the Emir was afterwards tried and sentenced to eighteen months’ hard labour, he was asked how the quarrel began. He said that he was taking an evening walk when we set upon him and beat him. It was represented to him by the Kadi that this was scarcely credible, as we were only fifteen in all, in a city where he had hundreds of retainers; and to this he had no answer. It was to his own furious temper that he owed the punishment inflicted for breaking the peace with law-abiding explorers working by express permission of the Sultan.

The negotiations which followed this riot were extremely tedious, and interfered with our progress. In addition to this, I had caught a serious attack of fever in the Buttauf marshes, and at one time the whole expedition was down with fever in the Carmel Monastery, except Sergeant Armstrong, who nursed us all. My health was so much shaken that I was unfit for further field work for several years, and, indeed, was not expected by the doctors to live through the attack of fever, aggravated by the injuries to my head.

The Turks at first did nothing, for the Emir was a relation of the venerable and respected Abd-el-Kader, whose acquaintance I was happy to have made, though this was unknown to his cousin. Afterwards they dispatched a commission, which adjudicated in our absence, and only inflicted nominal punishment; finally, my representations at home, backed by the Foreign Office, led to a proper inquiry, with the result that several of our assailants underwent terms of imprisonment, including the Emir, Aly Agha. The Palestine Exploration Fund Committee were paid the sum of £270 for our broken heads.

The mountains of Upper Galilee rise to a height of 4000 feet above the Mediterranean at MeirÛn, the Jewish town where a wild torchlight dance of Jews occurs yearly round the tomb of Bar Jochai, the Cabbalist—a ceremony which I regret never to have witnessed or to have seen fully described. The ridges of these mountains are crowned by several important castles, which defended the kingdom of Jerusalem against the Sultans of Damascus. Toron (now Tibnin) was built as early as 1107 A.D., and Belfort (now Kal’at esh Shukif) in or before 1179 A.D. The great castle above the Jordan springs at Banias was held from 1130 to 1165, and after its loss the line was protected along the Jordan side of Galilee by Chateau Neuf, now Hunin, and Belvoir (Kaukab el Hawa), south of the Sea of Galilee, with another strong fort, built in 1178 A.D., at the Jordan bridge south of the Huleh Lake. This place William of Tyre calls “the Ford of Jacob,” and its modern name is Kasr’Atra, near the “Bridge of Jacob’s Daughters.” The chain of castles ran through Gilead to Kerak, and thence south to Montreal, which was built in 1115, and thence to Ahamant and Taphilah; while on the south-west of the kingdom there were many other forts, such as Blancheward, Chateau Ernuald, the Castle of the Baths, Darum (near Gaza), Ibelin, Gibilin, and Mirabel, all of which are marked on the map. Another similar line of strongholds also protected the county of Tripoli against the Sultan of Aleppo, including Mont Pelerin at Tripoli, Chastel Blanc, Krak des Chevaliers, Mont Ferrand, Margat, and Saone, in Northern Syria. In Galilee other castles were also built in the thirteenth century by the Teutonic Order, who owned much property between Acre and the Sea of Galilee, acquired by treaty with the Saracens. Among these later castles Safed was one, and Chateau du Roi (Malia), with Chateau Judin farther west. The large castle of Montfort (el Kurein) is also not noticed before 1229 A.D.

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KRAK DES CHEVALIERS (KALA’T EL HOSN).
KRAK DES CHEVALIERS (KALA’T EL HOSN).

M. E. Rey, the French explorer, who has specially studied Crusading castles, points out a difference between those built by the Templars and those built by the Hospitallers, for most of these strongholds belonged to the great military orders, and very few were held by the King. The Templars had eighteen castles in all, including Chateau Pelerin (now Athlit), built in 1291 A.D. south of Carmel, and Tortosa. The Hospitallers in the twelfth century had only five great castles, Margat, Krak des Chevaliers, Chateau Rouge, Gibelin and Beauvoir. The Templar castles contain polygonal chapels, like the Templum Domini or Dome of the Rock, whence the Order was named, while the chapels in castles of the Hospitallers are of the usual form, with nave and aisles. The latter builders also did not generally make a donjon tower as an inner citadel, but often had a double line of ramparts with several important towers, as at Krak des Chevaliers, one of the finest and best preserved of the castles, which I visited in 1881, or that at Banias, which I explored in the following year. Krak quite recalls the Norman castles of our own country, or the early French castles, as it towers above the hamlet on the rugged slope. In its courtyard the whole population of that hamlet might have taken refuge in time of war. The proud humility of the Hospitallers is brought to mind by the text carved in Gothic letters by the door of the chapel in the inner court—

There is, however, another text on the outer wall at Krak in ornamental Arabic characters and in another style. “In the name of God, merciful and gracious, the rebuilding of this most favoured castle was ordered in the reign of our master the Sultan Melek edh Dhaher, the wise, the just, champion of the holy war, the pious, the defender of frontiers, the victorious, the pillar of the land and of the faith, the father of victory, Bibars.” And such indeed was the history of nearly all these castles, which Bibars took, and afterwards restored and held. The name of that famous champion of Islam, Melek edh Dhaher, “the victorious king,” is even now not forgotten by the peasantry of Palestine.

From the mountains of Upper Galilee you look down to the narrow shore-line of the coast of Phoenicia. In the later Jewish times the Holy Land was only reckoned to extend along the shore as far as Ecdippa (ez Zib), north of Acre. From that point it passed over the spurs along a line which I have traced in detail from the names of places mentioned in the Talmud, leaving a broad strip of country reckoned as Phoenician. It is very remarkable that immediately beyond this line we begin to meet with carvings on the rocks representing human beings. One of these near Tyre I copied in 1881, and another which I have not seen is reported to exist near Kanah. It cannot be accidental that no such sculptures have been found within the borders of the Holy Land, whereas they occur in Northern Syria near Merash, and in Assyria and Asia Minor. The explanation is, I believe, to be found in the Hebrew law which forbade the representation of living things.

If any carved idols of the Canaanites existed on the rocks in Palestine, they were probably destroyed at some period or other by the pious Hebrews or Jews. The distinction is, however, one of race, for the Arab hates carved images as much as did the Jew, while the Turanian Canaanites were fond of such arts, just as the Turanians of other parts of Western Asia were the first to adorn temples and houses with sculpture and painting.

The moment we cross the border into Phoenicia, we also find Phoenician inscriptions, though not of very great age. At Umm el Amed, Renan discovered three texts, of which the longest is a dedication to Baal Shemim, “That I may be remembered and my name good beneath the feet of my Lord Baal of the Heavens for ever.” The ruins among which these texts were found include a city (probably the Biblical Hammon) and a temple. Here I found sculptured sarcophagi and altars still lying on the hill side, where the French explorers left them, and the foundations and pillars of a Phoenician temple.

The exploration of Tyre itself was conducted in 1874, in 1877, and in 1881. The famous city is still a fair-sized town, having a few modern houses with tiled roofs. The population is reckoned at about 5000 souls, half at least being MetÂwileh or Persian schismatics—some of the most fanatical Moslems in Syria. It was by these new colonists that the town was raised from its ruins in the eighteenth century.

The old Phoenician capital stood on reefs or islands in the sea, which together formed an area of about 200 acres. It had two ports, the Sidonian on the north and the Egyptian on the south, each about twelve acres in extent, or half the area of the port at Sidon. It is a curious fact that until 1881 recent explorers have spoken of the Egyptian harbour as no longer existing. With Lieutenant Mantell’s assistance, I was able to recover the site of this harbour, but the exploration had to be conducted in a novel manner by swimming. There are reefs, which seem to have been regarded as unconnected with any artificial structure, about 200 yards from the rocky shore of the island. On reaching these, we found that the rock had been carefully levelled, and in some places was still covered with remains of cement and concrete. We know that the Phoenicians used concrete at Carthage, and there was probably at one time a wall on this reef, which was thrown down when the harbour, like that of Acre, was filled up with stones, and thus rendered useless. We were able with some little trouble, walking naked in the sun over the sharp rocks, to discover the entrance to the harbour at its west end, and I can only suppose that no one had previously done more than look at the reefs from the shore.

Another important discovery, which may yet lead to more valuable finds, was the recovery of the probable site of the old cemetery on the island, which may, I believe, exist under the present Moslem graveyard. We squeezed through a narrow fissure in the rocks on the shore, and found ourselves in a Phoenician tomb of the peculiar character found at both Tyre and Sidon—a chamber at the bottom of a deep shaft from the surface. Unfortunately this tomb has been rifled, and the sarcophagus which it once held now lies on the ground outside the shaft. There may be other tombs not far off of the same kind which remain to be discovered, but excavation in a modern cemetery would present considerable difficulties.

Tyre was already a city on an island in the sea in the fourteenth century B.C., as we learn from an Egyptian papyrus of that date. Enumerating the coast towns of BeirÛt, Sidon, and Sarepta, the Egyptian traveller adds, “They are nigh to another city on the sea. Tyre, the double port, is its name; water is carried to it in boats; it is richer in fish than in sands.” The reference to the want of water is of interest, for this has always been the weakness of Tyre, which was somewhat later supplied by an aqueduct from the fine springs on the shore at Ras el Ain. The joining of the island to the mainland appears to have been first effected when Alexander the Great besieged the city and made a causeway to it from the shore, which causeway is now broadened by the constant drifting of the sands. The so-called “spring of Tyre” on the causeway is fed, I believe, by the ancient aqueduct, which we carefully traced. The work seems in great part to be probably Roman, but I found that in one part “false arches,” like those in Etruscan and early Greek vaults, occur in this aqueduct, which can only be attributed to the Phoenicians. The aqueduct probably existed in the time of Shalmanezer IV., for the inhabitants in 724 B.C. dug cisterns when the water-supply from the land was cut off.

Although Tyre is perhaps more celebrated than any other Phoenician city, it is from Sidon that the finest Phoenician remains as yet found have been recovered, including the celebrated sarcophagus of Esmunazar—the date of which is still disputed within several centuries—and the recent large find of sarcophagi and art objects which remain in the Constantinople Museum, unpublished and only very vaguely described. These remains are not older, apparently, than the Greek period, or in some cases, perhaps, of the Persian age. It is sincerely to be hoped that good accounts of them will be soon forthcoming.

It is still very doubtful what we mean when speaking of Phoenicians. The alphabet and the language of the Phoenician monuments are Semitic, and are traced perhaps as early as the time of Solomon. The representation of the Fenekhu or Phoenicians on Egyptian pictures of the time of Thothmes III. also presents us with a Semitic type of bearded aquiline profile. These Semitic people were certainly the Phoenicians known to the Greeks, and there is no good reason for doubting the statement of Herodotus that they were emigrants from the Persian Gulf.

There are, however, many things in Phoenician antiquity which are not easily explained by the aid of Semitic studies. Thus, for instance, the gods Tammuz and Nergal were adored in Phoenicia. Even Gesenius is unable to give a Semitic derivation for these names, and they are very well known to be Akkadian words, meaning “The spirit of the rising sun” and “The great lord.” Both these deities were adored in Chaldea, and their presence in Phoenicia indicates a population of like character to the Akkadian on the shores of Palestine. Nor is this the only indication of the kind. The Hebrew language itself contains foreign words of the same derivation, including a good many of what are known as “culture words,” relating to architecture, agriculture, and settled life, indicating the influence of that settled non-Semitic population which the Hebrews found dwelling in walled cities and tilling the land when they invaded Canaan.

It is not possible here to enlarge on this subject, though it is one of very great interest. No scholar who has carefully studied the early Phoenician seals and cylinders can fail to observe how like they are to the art of Mesopotamia, not only in general character, but in subject and in the details of symbolism. Rude monosyllabic words constantly meet the eye in Phoenician nomenclature, in the names of gods and in short inscriptions on seals, which it is very difficult to explain as Semitic. The conclusion at which it seems to me we must arrive is, that in Phoenicia, as in other parts of Syria, there was from a very early period a mixed population. The traders and rulers of the cities were of a race akin to the Hebrews, and spoke a language which is only a Hebrew dialect; but there must have been also an old element of population existing perhaps, in this case, chiefly among the lower class, which was quite distinct, and which belonged to that ancient and wide-spread “Turanian” race to which the Medes, the Akkadians, and the Hittites also belonged. It was from this race originally that the Phoenicians acquired their knowledge of metal-work, of seal-engraving, of sculpture; and I believe that it was from the syllabaries and older hieroglyphics of the Hittites that they developed their great invention, the alphabet, which they bequeathed as a practical benefit to all engaged in commerce and literature throughout the world; for it is from the Phoenician alphabet that every other alphabet of Europe or of Asia has sprung.

The number of Phoenician gems with carved emblems, and of small Phoenician pottery figures of the gods which fill our museums contrasts in a very remarkable way with the absence of such remains in Palestine proper. The only places where such pottery figures have been found in the south are at Gaza and at Gezer, as far as I can ascertain. The Jerusalem seals, generally speaking, have only an engraved name, though a few, said to be Hebrew, have emblems like those of Phoenicia. There is no apparent reason why these pottery images and other idols should exist undiscovered in Palestine, for collectors are just as eager in the south as in the north of Syria, and the tombs have been rifled equally in all parts. In the Palestine tombs glass tear-bottles are found, and coins occasionally occur; but the pottery statuettes are absent. The explanation seems to be that there was a difference of religion between the Hebrews and their neighbours; that the Phoenicians, like the Chaldeans or Egyptians, believed in the efficacy of such figures, symbolic of their many gods, while the Hebrews were forbidden by the Law to make any such image. The same sort of conclusion may, as we shall see in a later chapter, be drawn from the absence of rude stone monuments in Palestine, such monuments being very abundant in parts of Syria not reached by the zeal of Hezekiah and of Josiah.

The course of our investigation now carries us into the extreme north-east corner of the Holy Land, to Banias, under the slopes of Hermon, where the Jordan springs forth a full-grown stream, joining the HasbÂny river, which geographically, but not historically, is the true head-water. The fastnesses of this lofty mountain, which forms a conspicuous background to many a view in Galilee, in Samaria, and even in Judea, have always formed a remote and isolated region. It was here that the men of Dan, according to the Book of Judges, came to Laish, “unto a people that were quiet and secure, and smote them with the edge of the sword, and burned the city with fire; and there was no deliverer because it was far from Sidon, and they had no business with any man” (Judges xviii. 27, 28); and in later ages this mountain was the cradle of the Druze religion, which at one time had its missionaries in Afghanistan and in India, as well as in Persia, Arabia, and Egypt.

The Druze race inhabiting Hermon, and now existing in great numbers in the Hauran, to which some of the chief families have migrated from the Lebanon since the establishment of Christian rule in that province, represents one of the finest elements of population in Syria.

Tall, stalwart men, and women with features more delicate than any of the Arab or Fellahah females, seem to belong to a Persian rather than a Semitic race, although the language of their literature and of daily life is Arabic.[44] It is not hard to become acquainted with Druzes of every class, but to penetrate beneath the surface which they present to those of other creeds is far more difficult, and our knowledge of their creed is derived, not from any communications made by themselves, but from the capture of their sacred books; although even these probably only reveal the outer aspect of their belief, with one exception.

The Druzes have long been regarded with great interest in Europe, their bravery and ability having won for them a well-deserved fame. To me they were the most interesting people in Syria next to the Samaritans, and what I observed of the manners of their leaders (under very favourable circumstances in 1873 and 1882) fully agreed with the expectations raised by what I had read. But, on the other hand, a sort of mystery has been conceived by some enthusiasts to surround them, which disappears when the student compares them with other historic sects. They have been represented as if they were Oriental disciples of Mde. Blavatsky, or mystics claiming secrets of a supernatural nature. Those who know them well and have been long familiar with them hold a very different opinion, and regard them as a very practical and politic people, who may yet play a part in the history of the Levant, and who, but for their dissensions, would have become the dominant power in Syria, instead of the Turks. I have had more than one Druze servant, but they do not prove satisfactory in that character, being very independent and averse to regular habits. Their religion allows them to acquiesce in the creed of the dominant people, wherever they may be; thus to a Christian they present the Christian aspect of their system, and their Moslem beliefs to a Moslem. It seems, however, established that they have no rites, ceremonies, or prayers of their own, and that the gatherings in their remote chapels or khalwehs are mainly for political and social purposes.

The accounts of the beauty of their horses, the richness of their dress, the silver ornaments of saddles, bridles, swords, and guns, I did not find to be exaggerated; but the curious horned head-dress, worn under the veil by the women till quite recent times, I have never seen in use, though such a horn, made of silver filagree-work, was once shown to me. It is a curious and interesting fact that this head-dress was also worn by tribes in Central Asia, on the Oxus, near the Caspian; and this indication agrees with others to be mentioned shortly in indicating that the original Druzes were probably emigrants from Persia, or from some region perhaps farther east.

The Druzes are perhaps best described as Moslem Gnostics, and the best key to their rambling and concrete dogmas is found in a study of Gnostic systems. They are schismatics, whose chief distinguishing tenet is a belief that the mad Khalif Hakem, in the eleventh century, was the final incarnation of the power of God. The appearance of this heresy in Egypt was due to the fact that the Fatemite Khalifs in that country were of the Ismailiyeh sect, which was of Persian origin. Other sects of similar character were independently established in Syria (the MetÂwileh, the Anseiriyeh, and the Ismailiyeh), among which the Druzes probably gained many recruits.

When the Moslems conquered the Persian dominions, they came in contact with several religions and with numerous philosophies. The Zoroastrian established faith, the Christianity of Nestorians and Sabians, the Judaism of the great Chaldean schools, were firmly rooted in the land; and in addition to these the Manichean system, which was, in fact, a combination of the preceding with Buddhist scepticism, had spread on all sides, even as far as Turkestan. Moslem mystic and philosophic sects very quickly developed under these influences, and the Sufis represent the adoption of Buddhist ideas by professing Moslems.

The philosophic sects held the opinion—which is also a Buddhist view—that the religion of the masses can never be the same as that of leading minds. The Ismailiyeh and other Moslem societies put this belief into practice, teaching to their disciples a series of dogmas in which they had no personal belief. Thus, while they professed to explain a series of incarnations of the Natek and the Asas, who were in the future to appear on earth as Ismail and Muhammad, in secret initiation they taught the more advanced student to discard all belief in either KorÂn, or Gospel, or incarnation, and to believe only in two natures (“the uprising one” and “the abode”), which together were, they said, the only realities in the universe. This doctrine is closely similar to that of the Syrian and Persian Gnostics, and to the final initiation of Eleusinian and other mysteries, as we learn from many detailed accounts. This simple basis enables us to thread the labyrinth of absurd allegories which the various sects wove round their concealed disbelief. These were, as a rule, politic dogmas, framed to bring into the organisation men from every existing creed, and apparently to reconcile systems which, in the eyes of the initiated, were all equally untrue.

The dogmas generally cited as tenets of the Druze religion are those taught to the lowest and uninitiated class. They are known through the seizure of sacred books by the Maronites in 1837, during Ibrahim Pasha’s wars, and again by the French in 1860. The great Orientalist De Sacy at the earlier period was able to study at leisure the manuscripts in the National Library at Paris, and Dr. Wortabet added to his results after 1860.

There is no reason here to give the details of this fantastic system. The Druze doctrines as to Christ, like those in the KorÂn, are clearly of Gnostic origin. Their teaching of a paradise for the pious dead in China, whence also Hakem is to return at the last day, and their dogma of transmigration of souls, were no doubt learned from Bactrian Buddhists or from Manicheans. We have already seen that more than one link connects them with the Manichean and Buddhist Mongols of Turkestan, though in appearance they approach nearer to Persians and Parsees. They have celibates among them, and hermits who retire to distant khalwehs, sleeping on mats, with pillows of stone, eating dry bread, and dressed in wool, with a girdle like that of monks or of the Dervish orders; but they are also commonly said to celebrate annual orgies, like those of Gnostics, of Greek pagans, or of the Sakti sects in India. They have secret emblems whereby they recognise each other, one of which is the fig, which was also a Manichean emblem, according to Cyril of Jerusalem. By none of these tenets or customs are they very clearly distinguished from Anseiriyeh or Ismailiyeh heretics, the divinity of Hakem being their true point of schism.

There is, however, in existence a work, said to be that of Hamza, the original Druze teacher, which admits us within the veil of initiation. It is called the “Hidden Destruction,” and it abolishes both Tawil and Tenzil, or open and secret dogma as to the KorÂn. It reduces the Moslem prayer—the Fetwa—to a cabalistic myth of planets and zodiac. It abolishes prayer, sacrifice, tithes, fasting, pilgrimage, the holy war, and even submission; and for these seven cardinal doctrines of Islam it substitutes seven new laws, which represent truth according to Druze philosophy.

1st, The confession of truth, save when such confession may endanger the safety of the initiate, when silence is allowed. Thus, too, the Buddhist is taught not to interfere with the common beliefs of other men.

2d, The duty of mutual help and assistance.

3d, The concealed renunciation of every form of creed or dogma.

4th, A separation from those who live in error.

5th, The unity of “the Power” in all ages.

6th, Contentment with His will.

7th, Resignation to inevitable fate.