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NAEBATIVE 


A  JOURNEY  ROUND  THE  DEAD  SEA 

THE  BIBLE  LANDS. 


\*  Tkii  mtrh,  in  aeenrdaiKe  irtllt  (Ae  Wrmi  of  ike  trtaly  of  Inler- 
natumal  Copyright,  hat  hem  auigntd  to  Mr.  Bfntlfy  bj/  Iht  A  tUhor. 


NARRATIVE 

OF  A  JOURNEY 


ROUND  THE  DEAD  SEA  AND  IN 
THE  BIBLE  LANDS; 


IN  1B50  AND  ISfil. 


orcLDDino 


AN  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  DISCOTEBT  OF  THE  SITES  OF 
SODOM   AND   GOMORRAH. 


BY  F.  DB  SAJJLCY, 


EDITED  BY  COUNT  EDWARD  DE  WAESEN. 


NEW  EDITION. 


IN  TWO  VOLUMES. 

VOL.  I. 


LONDON: 

BICHARD  BENTLEY,  NEW  BURLINGTON  STREET, 

^itbli^  m  StbiiuTs  to  Ha  Majutj. 

1864. 


UHTDOli: 


PREFACE. 

In  the  month  of  July,  1850,  a  severe  domestic  bereave- 
ment '  made  mcaiixions  to  at>!icnt  iiiyscdf  fur  a  timu  from 
Paris  and  familiar  scenes.  Wishing  to  turn  tliis  absence 
to  tbe  best  accouiit,  1  determined  to  visit,  vi^ith  my  son, 
Greece,  S}'ria,  and  Asia-Minor,  indeed,  I  thought  that 
n  jounief  of  this  kind  was  likely  to  complete  the  education 
of  a  young  man  who  had  just  finished  his  collcgo  course ; 
and  I  hoped,  al»o,  for  myself,  to  tind  subjects  suihcieutly 
irew  and  interesting  to  Ik;  offl-retl  to  the  distinguished 
Academy  of  which  I  have  the  honour  to  be  a  member. 
We,  consequently,  commenced  [ireparations  for  our 
jonmey.  But  whilst  me<litating  on  our  routt:,  I  reflected 
that  it  vfould  be  no  ailvantagc  to  science  were  we  to  trend 
again  the  beaten  paths  already  (raced  by  hundreds  of 
other  tourists  ;  and  that  the  object  of  my  own  travelling 


■  X-  •■•  Hkulcf  hkil  just  Ii»t  liU  trir«.^AV«  ^  the  Tratulalor. 


t-RKrACE. 

•i    N   ,>'wtt'Jrti^v  Uwt  if  I  did  not  attempt  to   visit 

'Sooh  being  my  intention,  there  was  only  one  coarse 
rtoen  to  us.     The  Dead  Sea  and  its  valley  has  of  late 
rt^ffa  given  rise  to  many  surmises  amongst  the  learned  of 
nil  iiatioiia.    AH  that  was  told  of  that  wonderful  lake — 
thoiiglii  from  innate  incredulity,  I  thought   much  of  it 
was  iiiixi'd  up  with  poetical  exaggeration — all  that  wm 
ropcatctl  o!  the  perils  awaiting  the  traveller  who  might  be 
bold  enough  to    venture   on  those    mysterious    shores, 
fltroiigly  Htimuluted  my  curiosity.     Mystery  and  danger 
mtlUced  to  fix  my  resolution,  and  I  determined  to  proceed 
nt   uniH)  to    Jerusalem.      From    thence    I    proposed   to 
iindortaku    an    expedition,   the   difficulties    of   which    I 
thought  were  likely  to  prove  less  formidable,  on  a  nearer 
approach,  than  they  appeared  from  a  distance.     I  soUcited, 
Hud    easily    obtained,    from    the     Minister    of    Public 
lustriivtion  in  France,  permission  to  travel,  at  my  own 
iixjwuao,  with  the  title  of  Chargi  d'une  mission  sdentifigue 
eit  Orieitt;    and  accordingly    left  Paris  on  the  28th  of 
Huptember,  1850. 

I  had  at  first  intended  to  travel  only  with  my  son  and 


PRKPACB.  ^^^  ,g 

~  very  dear  friend,  the  Abb4  Michon,  a  scholar  and  a 
mao  of  warm  fecliiig ;  but  I  soon  saw  my  little  caravan 
successively  increased  hy  the  udditiuu  of  tlirce  fellow, 
travellers.  Two  of  them,  Messieurs  Leou  Belly  arid  [/wn 
Loysd,  retjuested  to  iiccoinpfiiiy  rae  on  my  jom'ney 
eastworil.  After  having  first  stipulated  that  I  should 
retail)  the  chief  eoiiiuiaiid  aud  sole  arruiigenK^iit  of  the 
expeditioD,  I  acceded  with  great  pleasure  to  the  proposub 
ty[  tbeae  brave  and  excellent  young  men,  being  perfectly 
aware  that,  in  the  couutiies  we  were  about  to  vi^it,  the 
addition  of  two  determined  and  active  associates  would 
greatly  contribute  to  our  seairity.  But,  of  all  my  com* 
panions,  he  who  was  destined  to  become  a  second  son,  to 
share  iu  all  my  toils  and  labours — M.  Edward  Delessert. 
was  the  ]mt  to  join  us.  A  week  before  we  started,  this 
yoang  gentleman  had  not  the  »lij^liteat  idea  that  he  was 
about  to  uuflertakr  a  juunicy.  At  a  single  glance,  1  dis- 
covered in  him  the  qualities  suited  to  the  ditficulties  and 
privatioua  of  such  an  undertaking,  and  I  was  greatly 
n^iccd  when  he  joined  our  Uttlc  party,  thoiigli  unable 
tiKn  to  estimate  how  valuable  hi^  assistance  would  prove. 


Messieurs  Belly  and  Loysel,  wishing  to  visit  Lomltfu-dy 
and  Venice  on  their  way,  liiid  gone  on  before,  and  given 


•Ad. 

m  nadesrom*  wt  Tkintc  far  the  hrgiiiiig  of  October. 
We  cputted  Paris  b  time  to  jckd  tliem.  Speeding  rapidly 
hj  railway  tbnmgh  I^ance,  Belgtam.  Pnnui,  Boheniia, 
and  Austria,  we  stopped  bat  one  dar  in  Berfin,  oalv  a  few 
lioan  in  Vienna,  and  reached  Trieste  on  the  nunning  of 
the  fifth  day  after  our  departure.  Our  two  friends  arrived 
there  nearly  at  the  same  time ;  and  rery  soon  after,  one  of 
the  Atutrian  Uoyd  steamers  took  as  to  Syra,  and  thence 
to  Athens,  where  we  lauded. 


A  whole  month  was  given  to  the  examination  of  the 
Morca.  But  so  inacb  has  been  written  respecting  this 
countiy,  tliat  it  is  scarcely  possible  to  say  an^ibing  new 
on  tbo  subject.  I  need  not  delay  the  reader  with  an 
nooount  of  tbat  painful  trip,  which  hod  at  least  the 
advantage  of  preparing  us  for  the  fatigues  we  were  to 
encounter  in  Sjiia.  The  climate  of  Greece  U  trf  very' 
fjUMtionablc  salubrity,  and,  dining  the  whole  year  1350, 
natives  and  foreigners  were  alike  visited  by  dangerous 
fevers.  My  son,  too  young  to  endure  the  life  which 
trnvclloni  must  submit  to  in  those  unwholesome  resting. 
placM  called  Khans,  was  soon  laid  up.  Tins  threw  a 
gloom  over  our  journey  at  the  very  beginning.  We 
IiiwtonctI  back  to  .\thcnfl,  where,  after  a  few  days'  rest. 


PRBFACE. 

his  attacks  subsided.  I  had  hoped  we  were  rid  of  them; 
but  I  made  a  wrong  cHtiinatc  of  the  tenacious  character 
'  of  a  Gruck  fcrcr.  When  wc  sailed  for  ConstaiitiiKiple, 
M.  Delesscrt  was  takeu  ill  on  the  passage.  Strong  doses 
of  quiniuc  txistored  him ;  and  Hcarvely  liad  we  reached  our 
destination  wheu  1  wus  seised  inysvlf. 

My  object  io  coming  to  Constantinople  had  been  to 
obtain  finnans  which  would  have  enabled  mu  to  cany  off 
one  of  the  jVssyriau  baa-reiie/v  of  the  Nahr-el-Kelb,  wliieh 
1  then  thought  worth  the  trouble  it  would  have  cost  mc 
to  have  thcni  removed  and  taken  to  France,  llie  firmau 
was  refused,  and  I  have  since  had  reason  to  be  well 
pleased  «ith  the  negativCf  whcu  I  saw  this  pretended 
epigrapliic  treasure,  which  I  had  go  keenly  coveted  for  our 
Louvre. 


We  left  Constantinople  for  Smyrna  and  Beyrout, 
touching  at  Rhodes  and  J^arnnea.  When  we  arrived  at 
Beyrout,  wc  had  not  abandoned  the  idea  of  traversing 
-Bilinor,  £roni  Smyrna  to  Trcbisond ;  but,  from  our 
&8t  landing  on  Syrian  ground,  we  diBcovered  that  every* 
thing  around  us  had  as  yet  to  be  studied  and  i]iquired 
into — Europeans    being  utterly   deficient  with  regard  to 


PKKFAC'K. 

scientific  knowledge  iu  all  matters  coitDected  with  this 
country.  Our  detemuDation  waa  touuediat«d;  takeii:j 
and,  instead  of  extending  onr  researches,  we  decided  (o 
concentrate  tlicm  in  Syria,  spending  auch  liroc  and  money 
as  we  could  aSonI,  on  u  soil  which  promised  to  repay  our 
labours  by  an  ample  harvest  of  interesting  discoveries. 
It  ia  therefore  the  Diary  of  our  peregrinations  in 
Phceiiicia,  Galilee,  Judiea,  and  the  biblical  lands  of  Canaan 
and  Moab,  that  we  submit  to  the  general  reader. 

Atn  [  miiitaken  in  supposing  that  the  narrative  of  a 
journey  which  has  left  on  our  minds  such  a  powerful 
impression,  is  likely  to  prove,  in  some  degree,  interesting 
to  those  who  may  do  me  the  honour  to  read  it?  1  know 
not ;  but  if  my  hopes  have  been  too  sanguine,  I  trust 
the  reader  will  forgive  me,  in  consideration  of  the  houest 
faith  by  which  I  have  been  prompted  to  do  what  1  thought 
might  he  useful  to  those  who  may  visit  Syria  after  me ; 
in  giving  them  a  plain,  but  clear  account  of  what  I  havu 
seen,  and  in  pointing  out  to  them  the  objects  I  was  unable 
to  exaouoe.  In  either  case,  I  shall  find  myself  rewarded 
if  the  perusal  of  my  book  has  the  eflfect  of  stimulating 
others  to  follow  up  the  inquiries  which  I  have  merely 
begun.     Even  whilst  treading  in  (he  steps  of  the  learned 


PBBFACS.  xi 

Dr.  Robinson,  I  have  gleaned  much  new  and  interesting 
infonuation ;  and  am  ready  to  admit  that,  in  those  places 
I  have  visited  in  Syria,  there  are  still  many  and  interesting 
discoveries  to  be  made  by  future  travellers. 

F.  DE  Saclct. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAFl'ER  I. 

f Anind  M  Btyraut.— DiEBcultj  of  laudine — dutomliouM  cklafi.— Ruin*  la 

Um  na^bowbooil^-Sjmo  rain.— Visit  to    ibe  Frandi  oanmlti*. — 

ft^HuMiuiu  for  d*(iutiir&— Synui  moukrU,  or  mulBtaor*.— Tbojounio; 

eMUDOiiMd.— Kl'Khaldab.  —  Tlio  prophet  Jonah.  ~  BouitlAU  (momt. 

— y^bi  Tounk.— PorpbjrloD. — Sidoo.— Noerop<illa  at  Ailoata. — Omd* 

abiudaiiea'-Aiitolopa^  Jickal^  twd    hywwi. — TMublMouD  oom- 

-SpwdiDW  of  a  Sjrrlu  iiutt»«par.—8aur.  (b»  aooiMit  Tfrc— 

I  and  n\im  of  Miti<]uit]r   .........       I 


CHAPTER  II. 

Detautat*  Oom  Sour.—RAtnuirmil.— Illoouof  tli«Mitbor'*Mn.— Tli«  wLit« 
^m  C^o.— EiUiMidorooD.— Kuiiu.— CfclopaiM  VklU—Oop  and  inawiul- 
^B  Ufi.— ALk*,  nr  St.  Jtwi  d'Aot*. — FVanoiMan  ooDTvnt— Effstta  of  bom- 
^1  bardiusal  in  lS40.^0iilf  cJ  Acn.— Itiaerai;  rrom  Bojrout  to  Aere.^ 
^^  Kuutib.— Chumh  ud  diuaber  of  tbo  Annucrlation.— Pjpdui.— A 
^^wnlMffM*  kh).ii.-A  tbl«Ting  Mok W 


CHAPTER  111. 


! 


[>}tB)a. — AqmsU  ■boC— Smdout.— MmdnUi.— ArbwItk-'IUbctUoua  bortca. 
'A  ilifltcult  chaMh  — Night  kclxnlor*  with  tubbor*.  —  If »plou*«. -- 
Sbocbaa. — NnpolU, — Jsec>b*«  ir«lL  —  Betb*DBguii.— A  Ui*ii  iu  ruim. 
—  Sailoua. — A  coirio  in  »  Uuu. — Tit*  UibaonitM^— Atiirotb.~-ErIUiu>. 
— Fint  a^t  ct  Jorualmi. — Alaiuulcr  tli*  OrMt. — Fint  iiDprMuoua  uf 
Ifce  Holy  Ci^.— H.  Bott*,  th«  Fren«h  ConauL— Diitnor  and  miMie. 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Btlhh'iFiii  on  the  B<ra  of  the  NktiTtt}',  —  B«ntifiil  *omf<ii. —  I^tJo  and 
OtMk  <kiUTfacB.— Th«  S4b*ikb  llundui.— The  tribe  of  TlilAiocrmhi.— 
Dtfatton  jar  tlx  Dead  So*. — A  [wlofvl  Mi[<>r^loD.-  -Plr*t  gUmpw  of 


U 


siT 


C0STBNT8. 


th*  DMd  Sta.— HonaUry  of  H«rJi»b«.— The  Fawihnt     Titn  weort 

incmwed.— Tha  line  of  muiji.— Bubt  oS  Um  Kodna. To1o«aia  rri- 

dmoML— TIm  ihcrw  of  Uio  Dead  Sml— FSnt  enrunpmmil.— Flaata  (nil 
B««» IM 

CHAPTEK  V. 

Fint  i>%lil  U  the  Dwtd  Sm.  — AkmiI  at  t  inounuki. — ll<ienl0««nl  MwrHn^ 
—A  dtuRorutiw  pa** — A  writ  without  wirnr  Mata  tolouio  aiidMMMi 
— Dtacvnt  b>  AyiiDjady.  — Liizuiiuit  rcgaMloiL— Apptm  of  tba  Daad 
8«a.  —  Th*  Irilw  of  Hjalmlin*  — Eiunnn  niliu.  —  Tho  Bo-gadl  of 
Seriplui«.—  Lagonil  ot  Biikct-ol-KhoUI.  —  Valta;  of  iho  gvMnm.— 

EncniDping  graund  vithout  watar'—A  Eubaliluta.^'Ths  iwonl  dase*. 

Schaiinr  tlio  mookri igg 


CHAITEK  VI. 

Aaoant  «if  Sabbab,  or  Haaadtt — F'ortFCvi  uf  Kin;  Barod.-^ia  fflnaril,  or 
AmBUta. — Elcaar.— Sic^  of  M—Ht  — Tho  jfanitm  tnimolata  tbam- 
••Ivaa^ — Aawelt  bjr  th»  Romiuu  under  Silro.— Raliu  of  Uaaula  m  Oiaj 
SI*  at  prMant.— Oothic  gMciraj,— Dawwnl  (ram  t)»  rnhia'— IVartana 
tiotoix.  —  OnptuD  LTDch'i  n vmiim  —  Uinty  raanmtJ. — B^mnigif  «f 
Itomui  lino*.— iDdicatioDii  of  >  Uoo.'— VVattr  of  Iha  Dead  Soft. — Bada  «f 
-  taTs  aiid  oittnot  tdtsaaim. — Agracabla  aotampnanl.— A  f^md  tiiglit'a 


raat 


SOS 


rn.\pTKn  vn. 

CtaUUuni,  or  ruiaad  fnrt.—Rortiui  »tat)aa. — Tltamant  uf  KiiHibiui. — Suin* 
aad  oaiTant  ot  lavftr—lvxlc  monunt — Plain  and  tnoiint^ii  of  Sudoou— 
TattigM  of  uiBUist  SudniiL — fyrainidAl  oolumiii  of  alL — Tribe  of  (bo 
Ahonatiiala. — Tbo  Svlidlkb  ScHahi.— flalikhab.  or  plain  of  th*  lalt  mud. 
— Eoaumiiitont  of  tlie  Ahouelhata,  —  Sunpidou*  Aianilii.  —  Pnlnuvhil 
hoapHaltty. —  A  rapaFiouii  whiokh. —  An  cipcniiTO  ptl. — The  tribe  of 
BenvSakbanr— Robbeni  of  a  mipcrrior  ordor. — Intraduotaon.— Vint  (o 
tlurir  onoaolpiiinnt £46 


CHAPTER  Vin. 

daid'  BMmal  i>  panttior. — Mohnmaxd  In  a  qniokMOid. — ProvidOiUial 
doUtanoico.  — A  r«Mo  of  tbo  oondinaned  dtlaa.— Ertanalfo  rnlaa. — 
Seonnil  ancamiiraait  of  B«nI'Sakb&n.~RnMii  of  JartthOL — BMuwaxviaa. 
or  Luhitb— HIttakan  hf  Irt>7  and  ManKtn.  ukI  Oi|itain  Ljncb.  for 
tbo  riio*  of  XiMr.—VeomouUiry  nt  Rl-Linn,  the  Tan)cur.— Eipiihion 
of  a  DJilialiii- — Political  diraua^ou  on  the  state  of  rrnti«  —Itapartiire 
Crcnn  the  encampment. — Plun  of  El*He«t4ah. — Tlie  Dmi-Ogbl^  a  aatlM 
triW— KoMnrnal  alann  and  combat.— IntMidod  plunder  praranttd. — 
Bemnini  of  Roman  tliwinaNK — Andont  road. — StMnva  rbitai* — Tnbv 
of  Baol'HainMlib  2S<I 


CONTSKTS. 


«♦ 


CHAITER  IX. 

ttiiliwof  Khattxt-Sarfkli. — Anoi^iil  Moitrilie  hijtlxKiy- — BiiiKiilv  tampU^— 
Bain*  of  ui  andmit  town. — VTklls  of  Isv*.— HovihI  of  tlis  ilatwi  inA 
NMhilM  bM-nliaf.  —  Local  Ii^qiIk  —  Koini  of  BdiBuBi  or  SShom.— 
>  Scnwotiw  «itk  sMidoring  Btdoiiuuk— Th*  tvbbon  Inulkad. — Be1i]BB  of 
Itt* Mogp.— A  «M  edRht. — Tb*  mucli  twuhwiL— ^nnu*  at  Moom. — 
]  Bala*  of  a  luic*  titf. — DMcri|>tio>i  of  ■  l«w|>U. — Raiuatfcklil*  riiiii*  ui 
iSdt^l-Kann. — A   pwwdtnfc  TiritanL— Conttauail  rnina. —  Halt  at  Kl- 
-Tr*tmnit  ef  HosMtio  BMlptimt— Lenf  mnuiM  of  atoaaa.— 
)  FWilth  Solameli  Mtd  bia  oaeort— ApproMb  to  KaTak.~Pam^  of 
I  ikinMiiiia  HI  inn      I'lint.  Iliii  n|iliiil  i  f  MmTi      .....  828 


XobaaiMad'Ol-Mi^iMlj',  Ui«  SctiMkb  of  K^rak.— Jokmsiai  of  lit*  diStemt 
Ii4b«a. — IntMnmi  of  luiwclDeiiiiia  giia*ta. — The  Chriatuna  of  Kank. — 
Kiam'malion  of  tb«  eitjr.—Tower  of  SidUn  Bciban.— Omtuitoui  inndla. 
-Iba  CkriatiaD  ScbeOtlt  Abd-Allah.— Exortittaiit  dwunil  for  lappoaad 
froUctiao.—litm  ■lata  of  ezxJiequar. — A  loan  contraolad  In  tha  daaart 
^MiHinLl  box.  —  I>n;«tatioDH  for  <l«partiu«i.  —  Cnttlu  of  Itanva<l  Aa 
,  CUUtttoi.— Mora  inanlta  and  nxlortioD. — A  inagtimaa  qnaml. — KaMiui 
Um  thisTw  of  Kank. —  Ths  jouracy  naumf<d.  —  BridencM  of 
doaaio  agenof. — Gaounping  sniusil  reoohod,  aa  tiie  boska  of  the  Ifalii>- 

-ProgDoatioa  of  nln    ....  ....  S7I 


CHAPTER  XI. 

A  ««1  ntgkt  uodar  caBMa.— CanMquaiicaa  of  tiio  bite  of  a  loorpioiii.  — Th« 
■Bank  taaiiuaiL — PUnaa&d  rar^oa, — Omtlnund  kiuiMmlon  of  luleuiniB 
ndnk — HcvoroleaaicatUoDoaa. — Rnina  of  Kabolioi. — Tlialandof  Monh. 
— Soriptwal  Tofaranom  uni  aultinriUaa. — Table  of  lonlitin  and  nuna 
id«*lifi«it.  — Sitaation  of  Sodom.  — iSonr  and  the  Salt  Mountain.— 
Samalaa  of  tho  ooodonuiad  e!U««.—  Bnuinaimlioii  of  illiutntit*  pumgm 
ntcta  til*  nerad  wrilinp 


CHAPTER  XU. 

He  duimIuiiiwwI  cttaaa. — HiOorical  Dluatiatioiu. — Opinion  of  Boland.— Idoiiti- 
iMtioa  cSSaiam. — Cofraet  loaality  of  Zcw.— Existing  mini  of  Nimrim 
and  Zaboimb — Ruina  of  LuhitjL — Rain*  of  Slhon. — Ruini  of  ICobbath- 
Ibah.— Araofoln.— BrRabbn.— Kunik,  or  KirMoab.—Tb*  King'i  Roodi 
at  Koab.  — ■  PieeodiDg  tnTclUn.  —  liurckbanll  iii  IRII.  —  Itbj  and 
ItMmtia  In  U18.— The  Amarinn  npf>Iiti<iii  mtdir  Captain  I.][nch  in 
1M4 «S 


>»1 


COMTBHTB. 


CHAPTEB  XIII. 

CoDgrfttsIatioiu  upon  the  raocm  of  the  joumej. — A  itkrtliog  matritaotiul 
propoiitlott. — Encampiueiit  ol  AhousUuttB. — Dsputure  ot  the  Beni- 
SaUutra. — Pamge  of  the  Sabk&h. —  Imminent  dangsn  antmounteiL — 
Qeneral  ntubction. — Compenaation  for  lowea. — The  Salt  If  ountam  of 
Sodom. — Ruina  of  Sodom. — Ruina  of  Zan. — Extnordinaiy  _n»taiml 

phenomenon. — Faa,  or  Ascent  of  (he  Soorpiona Oeotogickl  ^paar- 

ances. —  Ruina  of  the  Upper  Zoar. — Botanical  diaoovery. — Rnine  of 
Adnuh. — Rain,  hail,  and  oold. — A  aheltering  grotto.— Fropoaad  idaati- 
Scation. — A  friendly  aeiitinal. — The  Adadah  of  Bcriptura. — Bqint  of  Bl- 
Qeiitein,  or  Kerioth. — Hezron. — CareB  of  Djenbeh.— Enoamping  gToniid  48S 


CHAPTBE  XIV. 

A  gloomy  eTening, — CoDcluding  adventnTs  with  Bedooina. — Diaappointed 
thierea. —  Cave  of  A-tnllnm — Departure  of  the  I>iahaliiia. — Rnini  of 
Djenbeh. — Makkedah  of  Scripture. — Enormoua  ruina  and  avennea  of 
atones. — Ruina  of  Maon,  Carmel,  and  Ziph. — Atriral  at  Hebron. — Origin 
and  remote  antiquity  of  Hebion. — The  modem  name,  EI-EhaliL — 
Cnrioua  mUc  of  antiquity. — Halhnt,  Beth-iur,  and  Oedor. — Ttuika  of 
Solomon. — Arrival  at  JeruMlem.— Welcome  news.— Hoapitali^  of  the 

liVandsoan  oonveat Beaidenoe  at  Jemaalem. — Another    expedition 

amused C2Q 


r. 


JOURNEY  1^  SYRIA  AND  ROUND  THE 
DEAD  SEA. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Anin]  U  Btyronl— DlfScultj  ofluKlIng.— CiiiUmi-liniifia  <l*Iapi— Ruini  in  tlie 

Mdlbbaurtioo'l^'^riiui  nun.— Visit  ti>  tbn  Fr«iuih  wosulal*.— Pr«]>iu«lli>nii 

for  lUfiarliira.— STrun  iixiukri*,  or  tuiilvtMn. — TliB  JQurn*;  ooiiiniOTiee'i. — 

l-KUibdi. — Tlifl' ptDpbi^  Jotmh.  —  B«autiftil  wenBiy.  —  HtXii   Yaiiiil>. — 

rioo, — SujoD.— K«r»polu  of  Adlvnin. — Oam«  ia  ubjindano*.— Anto- 

;j«Dkali,iind  bj-emuL'Troubloionu:  compmlons. — ^wdtiionolaS;riiui 

T. — Soar,  the  uicluit  Tjto, — Ruini  and  nfiia  of  •ntlqnltj. 

we  are,  by  aevea  o'clock  in  the  morning,  at 
andior  within  gutwhot  range  of  Beyroiit.  Tliougli  it  is 
UoAniig  liard  we  have  been  on  decik  for  the  last  half-honr, 
with  our  ejes  on  the  coast  which  wo  liavo  so  anxiously 
looked  Tor.  AI!  is  not  quite  new  however  in  the  scenery 
befofo  ua ;  it  lias  something  of  the  grave  and  Bleepy 
tsped  of  the  eastern  shoi-cs  we  have  already  seen  at 
!ypras  ami  Ithodes,  and  bearH  reaeinhlance  also  to  the 
lowery  banks  of  a  lake  in  Lombardy.  Everything  is 
u.  The  houses  as  they  recede  from  the  centre  of 
iC  town  look  like  ornamental  cottages  delightfully  bnried 
gst  trees.    A  building  in  the  highest  part  is  shown 


ereci 


2 


ARRIVAL   AT   BIYHOUT. 


to  as  as  the  French  ConsHl-Generars  residence 
Dr.  Pustaluzza,  Uio  ijuarantino  physiciau,  who  has  been 
alre.'uly  for  some  years  a  resilient  in  BeyroHt,  is  kind 
enough  to  point  out  several  houses,  wliich  we  wish  to 
rccoimoitro  before  all  others ;  tJicso  are,  the  various 
hotels  where  we  may  choose  to  alight,  the  Consulate, 
and  the  rcsiJenco  of  my  friend  Miclio!  SIcJaouar.  Siich 
arc  my  first  objects,  but  when  I  have  got  this  inforniatioa.j 
I  am  at  a  loss  what  to  think  of  next. 

Two  hotels  are  described  as  the  very  best :  ono  at 
Raz  Beyrout,  about  a  mile  from  the  town,  the  other  on 
the  wharf.  But  this  hist  is  wretchedly  Oriental;  the 
other  is  too  far  olf.  What  is  to  be  done  ?  Providence, 
having  undertaken  to  get  us  out  of  the  dilenmia,  kindly 
sends  us  a  boat,  having  on  board,  besides  the  tactotuma 
of  these  two  establlsljments,  a  little  man,  who  with  a 
most  poUtc  and  humble  address,  entreats  us  to  try  a  new 
hotel  which  ho  has  just  fitted  up,  and  where  he  hopes  to 
lisve  us  for  his  very  firat  guests.  It  is  a  venture,  but 
we  will  try  and  be  the  first  customers  to  the  H6tel  do 
rUuivcFS.  By  the  time  all  is  settled  tlie  rain  holds  np  a 
little,  and  we  are  again  at  Uberty  to  contemplate  the 
land  wc  are  about  to  ti-ead.  Wo  see  to  the  lefl  tJie 
stumnits  of  Mount  Lebanon  ;  to  the  right,  as  far  a^  tlie 
eye  can  reach,  aitd  beginning  from  tlie  very  skirts  of  the 
itoyrout  ganlens,  a  large  zone  of  red-coloured  sand. 
Whence  comes  thia  sand  t  nobody  can  teU.  How  docs  it 
act  when  the  wind  blows  as  it  does  just  now  t  Very 
miBcliievousIy  ;  but  nearly  as  badly  when  there  is  a  rahn, 
for  it  still  moves  on,  ever  advancing  ;  and  m  its  disastrous 
progress,  which  no  human  power  aui  sttip,  buries  every- 
thing undur  it.     Orchards,  fields,  houses,  every  object  191 


DIFFICULTY    OF    LAKDIKO. 


slowly  swallowed  np  by  this  tide  which  knows  no  turn. 
Sooner  or  later  Iho  \vholc  town  wil!  disappear  under  Uio 
sands  :  a  melaiiclioly  end  for  the  agreeable  Ueyroiit. 

We  arc  provided  with  ludgings :  so  far  well.  But  wo 
are  not  yet  landed.  Very  unpleasant  stories  have  bccii 
told  us  of  the  diflicully  of  laudiug.  The  entrauce  to  the 
harbour,  or  that  part  of  the  roads  improperly  called 
harbour,  is  not  practicable  ten  days  out  of  twenty.  There 
is  nothing  to  shelter  it,  and  all  along  there  is  a  sandy  bar, 
wtiich  with  the  slightest  wiud  sends  up  such  breakers, 
tliat  boat^  attempting  to  land  uro  mire  to  capsize. 
Dr.  Pestalozza  would  certainly  prefer  remaining  on  board 
to  await  more  lavonrable  weather,  were  lie  not  anxious  to 
embrace  bis  wife  and  child,  whom  he  has  not  seen  for  the 
last  luoiitb.  Luckily  the  galo  blows  oQ'  shore,  and  tho 
chances  are  in  our  favour.  So  we  take  leave  of  the 
officers  of  the  "  Austria,"  who  have  brought  us  thus  far,  and 
we  make  a  start  towards  laud.  Keaching  it  witliout  misliap, 
we  alight  in  high  good  humour  on  the  Plucnician  shore. 

We  shall  not  delay  the  reader  with  the  thousand 
troubles  attending  an  arrival — which  arc  nearly  tho  same 
everywhere.  But  in  an  inn  at  its  first  opening,  and  in 
such  a  place  as  Bcyrout,  they  arc  worse  than  anywhere 
else.  But  what  is  that  to  us  I  We  are  in  Syria,  on  the 
eve  of  beginning  in  earnest  a  journey  attended  with 
every  kind  of  stin-ing  novelty!  Such  a  prospect  seems 
to  add  fresh  spirits  to  the  exuberant  gaiety  of  my  light- 
hearted  companions.  It  is  a  good  omen,  and  1  hail  tjiis 
cheerfuhitss,  for  I  kjiow  lliat  our  course  cannot  always 
ruu  smooth,  and  a  light  heart  is  a  usefiil  companion 
through  a  rough  journey. 

Here's  Juck  to  begin  with !     As  we  reach  the  shore,  the 


« 


CAFE  u'Bl'BOra. — PBBNCH  COSSOT^ 


first  thing  we  read  on  llie  front  of  a  shop  is,  in  French. 
Cafu  il'Europe.  This  is  probably  a  rendezvous  for  rogues 
from  all  countries.  Never  loiuJ,  if  the  people  speak 
French,  and  cau  lend  us  some  newspapers  not  very  old. 
We'll  try  at  any  rate. 

And  80  we  did.  In  an  hour  afterwards  we  were 
sitting  in  the  Cafe  d'Kuropo  drinking  very  poor  coffee, 
smoking  cigars  a  litlle  worse,  and  finding  in  the  shape  of 
a  newspaper  notliing  but  "  La  Voix  du  Peuple."  Luckily 
a  number  of  tlio  "'Charivari"  afforded  ua  some  compen- 
saUon.  In  the  pages  and  illustrationH  of  this  littlo 
periodica!,  we  recognised  the  light-hearted  raillery  of 
our  fellow  countrymen,  and  we  almost  felt  ourselves  at 
home.  But  the  liarsli  guttural  soumU  oftlie  Arab  tongue 
felling  upon  our  eai-.s  fivim  every  side,  soon  dispelled  the 
illusion.  I  made  this  day  for  the  first  time  an  amusing 
observation.  If  you  sec  two  Syrians  cronversing  together, 
whatever  may  be  their  religion,  be  sure  they  are  talking 
of  caxli  and  money  matters.  You  may  bet  on  it  luid 
always  win,  for  it  is  a  rule  without  exception. 

Leaving  tliis  wretched  cafe,  we  returned  to  our  hotel, 
where  our  host,  Mr.  Audibaiit.  lia*l  prepared  om"  breakfast. 
Here  for  the  first  time  wu  tasted  some  baiiana-s  of  the  best 
kind,  as  we  were  told,  and  a  very  agreeable  fruit  they 
arc.  £ut  the  pulp  is  rather  too  soft,  resenibhng  ice 
flavoured  with  butter,  or  perhaps  more  Hkc  a  pot 
of  pomatum. 

After  breakfast  we  went  to  the  French  Consul's  office. 
Monsieur  de  Lcsparda  received  us  with  the  most  cordial 
civility.  All  that  had  been  said  to  me  in  his  praise  I 
found  was  still  greatly  below  his  merit,  It  is  impossible 
to  be  kinder  and  more  obliging,  and  I  sincerely  oongmtu- 


MlCllBt   MEDAOITAR. 


late  all  countrymen  of  mine  who  maj  have  the  good 
fortune  to  meet  this  geutlcman.  He  iuvitcd  us  to  <It»c 
■with  him  next  day  at  the  Consulate.  Whilst  wc  were 
conversing  in  his  office,  who  should  corac  in  hut  ni}'  friend 
Medaouar,  who  not  only  knew  nothing  of  our  an-ival,  but 
had  not  even  heard  of  our  intended  journey.  He  is  a 
noble-minded  fellow,  generous,  affectionate,  and  high- 
spirited,  whom  I  had  had  the  good  fortune  to  fall  in  with, 
and  to  prize  at  his  real  value,  some  tow  months  before, 
when  he  visited  Paris.  I  had  theu  promised  to  Medaouar 
■^UH  peu  en  fair  I  must  confess,  and  scarcely  thinking 
I  should  ever  keep  my  word— that  I  would  some  day  or 
other  return  his  visit :  and  here  I  am  arrived,  without 
notice.  For  a  moment  he  looked  hard  at  mo,  to  be  quite 
sure  there  was  no  mistake,  and  then  wo  throw  our  arms 
OD  cacli  other's  uock,  both  otjually  delighted  at  our 
meeting  again. 

Ulichcl  Mcdaouai'  wa«  horn  in  Beyrout,  of  one  of  the 
best  Christian  families  in  that  country.  Brought  up  in 
the  College  of  Antoura,  he  speaks  and  writes  French  very 
correctly ;  he  is  perfectly  well  read  in  all  our  first-rate 
authon,  and  altogether  hix  education  may  vio  with  tliat 
of  the  best  French  univoi-siUes.  As  to  Arabic,  his 
native  tongue,  he  is  a  complete  master  of  it,  and  could, 
if  required,  fill  the  chair  of  the  ablest  professor.  In 
soul  and  affection  a  Frenchman,  he  has  for  the  la.st  ten 
years  seriously  attached  himself  to  the  interests  of  France, 
which  ho  conaideni  as  his  country ;  and  he  fills  at  the 
French  Consulate  Uic  active  but  gratuitous  appointment 
of  assistant  dragoman.  It  would  he  very  desirable  if  our 
goveninicut  had  everywhere  so  devoted  and  so  highly 
estimable  a  servant 


6 


CUSTOM-UOUSE   VKXATIONS. 


After  this  visit  wc  proceeded  to  the  ciistora-hmifie. 
accompanied  by  one  of  the  kaouas  of  the  Consulate. 
Thnnigh  this  man's  assistance,  by  dint  of  cuffs  and 
coaxing,  we  contrived  to  get  our  arm-chests  dcUverod 
over  to  us.  Of  course  the  Dcrer-failing  bakhshish  was 
not  to  bo  forgotten,  and  the  custom-liouso  agents  drew 
upon  our  purses  for  a  small  suppluineut  to  their  regular 
allowances,  Wc  liave  still  a  trunk  wanting,  but  we  hope 
to  get  it  when  the  /oA«ioA«,  inseparable  from  the  arriral 
of  a  new  packet,  shall  have  somewhat  subsided.  Patience, 
in  this  country,  is  a  most  essentia]  quality ;  so  wo  will 
even  sit  ih)wn  patiently,  hoping  that  all  will  go  right  i» 
time  :  I  don't  mean  that  our  patience  has  not  something 
French  in  it ;  for  instance,  wo  may  bo  sorely  tempted 
to  fly  into  a  passion  at  the  slow  proceedings  of  every 
official  in  Turkey,  and  we  leave  the  cuatom-houso  in  no 
very  good  humour.  However,  we  go  back  to  the  hotel, 
and  there  we  get  our  lighting  gear.  Krerytliing  is  in 
gootl  onler,  ami  our  ai-BCnal  is  a  formidablt-  one  ;  double- 
barrelled  guns,  swords,  pistols  of  all  sizes,  powder,  caps 
and  balls,  everything  is  complete,  and  with  such  an 
equipment,  wc  are  ready  for  aay  emergency. 

Thus  satisfied  with  our  preparaiions,  wc  go  out  for  an 
ainng  in  the  country.  Leaving  lieyrout  by  the  Saydali 
gate,  wo  follow  the  soa-shore,  passing  before  a  theatre 
which  tliey  arc  just  now  buUiUng  for  au  IlaUan  Opera. 
The  whole  structure  is  to  be  made  of  wood.  The 
weather  is  now  fine,  with  a  splendid  Syrian  sky.  A  walk 
iu  thiii  direction  is  quite  delightful.  The  road  lies  along 
the  sea,  which  it  constantly  o\'crha»g»,  whilst  the  wares 
coine  dasliing  ngainst  the  I'ocks  below.  Amotigst  tliesc 
rocks,   one  may    trace  everywhere  dgns  of  tlie  ancient 


■■Atiboss  op  betbout. 


Berytns ;  but  these  remnins  are  daily  disappeanng,  wont 
away  b}'  the  sea.  hi  the  harbour  itself  there  are  somo 
broken  columns  constantly  beateu  by  ttio  surge,  and 
covered  with  sea-weod.  In  other  placea  appear,  cut  out 
of  the  rock,  what  were  formerly  the  founiktions  of  opident 
inaiiKions.  Of  the  rarioiut  monunioiits  erected  on  the 
sca-shoi'C.  only  one  has  left  ruins  of  any  importnucc ;  it 
goes  by  the  name  of  the  Tiuatn;  and  js  unquestionably 
a  basilica  of  great  antiquity,  flanked  by  a  lino  of  square 
tanks,  excarated  from  the  rock,  and  now  fidl  of  csalt 
■water.  A  little  further  on,  a  small  bay  with  BOme  Arab 
bar(|ues  hauled  up  on  tlie  sandy  beach,  set-ms  to  hare 
been  one  of  the  havens  of  the  old  liarbour  of  Berj'tus ; 
these  barques,  thus  ttaulcd  up,  bring  back  to  our  recol' 
lection  the  customs  of  the  mariners  in  ancient  times. 
Such  was  the  sailorship  of  the  Phtcuiciaiui ;  such  is  still 
the  practice  of  the  inhabitants  of  Beyrout.  There  has 
been  no  change  in  the  habitfi  of  the  people  of  this  country ; 
and  this  observation,  which  we  are  now  making  for 
the  first  time,  we  shall  hare  occasion  to  repeat  again 
and  again. 

The  road  wo  aro  following  is  lined  with  caf^s,  where 
Turks  and  Arabs  smoke  the  narghilcb  and  chibouk  with 
unparalleled  gravity.  All  arc  very  polite,  for  oiu- 
saLiins,  which  are  not  always  cxpectctl,  are  invariably 
returned  ;  and  soiaetimes  they  give  us  the  first  greeting. 
Decidedly  this  country  is  more  civilised  than  Constan- 
tinople. 

After  an  hour  of  profitable  walking — for  we  hsre 
alrtaily  collected  a  number  of  plants,  shells,  and  insects — 
we  return  to  our  hotel,  quite  delighted  with  our  first  <lay's 
work.     The  sun  is  just  sotting,  and  the  town  gates  will 


rillST  NIGUT   IS   SYBH. 


shut  tho  moment  his  disc  disappears  ;  so  we  ratist  turn 
back  iu  good  time.  Comiug  home,  just  as  the  mucxzia 
summons  the  believers  to  erening  prayer,  wo  hear  for 
the  first  time  a  struuge  ctiarivari  of  bugtcK,  trumjicts,  and 
drums ;  thrice  it  stops  to  begin  again,  and  ends  witli  a 
loud  liuzKft.  The  Turkish  garrison,  whoflc  barracks  are 
close  to  our  inn,  are  praying  for  their  Suitau.  All  this  is 
quite  new  and  amusing. 

The  remainder  of  the  day  pa«scd  away  pleasantly 
enougli,  in  quiet  ehat  on  all  that  we  have  already 
observed,  and  in. fond  recollection  of  the  friemls  we  have 
left  behind  us.  To-morrow  we  hope  to  see  mort^  and  in 
the  moatitimo  wc  anticipate  with  grimt  pleasure  a 
uight's  rest  without  the  accompauimcut  of  rolling  and 
pilchiug.  But,  ahis !  sleep  is  no  easy  matter  in  Syria  ; 
and  we  have  already  a  foretaste  of  tho  nights  wo  are  to 
expect  in  this  country. 

DatrabtrZlh. 

During  tlie  night  the  wind  has  gone  round  to  tlio 
northward,  and  this  morning  the  sky  is  beautifully 
serene.  We  hasten  to  write  to  our  friends  in  France ; 
thovigh  our  letters,  they  say,  will  not  leave  this  for  a 
week.  We  don't  care,  for  it  socms  to  us  as  if  by  writing 
at  once  of  our' safe  an-ival,  our  friends'  anxieties  will 
be  sooner  removed ;  and  so  we  refuse  to  listen  to  any 
delay. 

After  breakfast  wc  start  agaiu  ;  but  this  time  we  take 
our  route  towards  the  Kahr-e-Beyrout,  that  is,  in  a 
direction  opposite  to  the  beach  wo  reconnoitcrcd  yester- 
day. The  heat  is  awful ;  and  the  sun  seenis  to  us  to  he 
more  tyrannical  than  he  lias  a  right  to  he,  considering 
it  is  tlie  8ih  of  December  :  Qowers  are  to  be  seen  every- 


ST.  GEORGE   .VKD  THE  DRAGON. 


9 


where ; — ilocidcdij  spring  is  coming  on  apace,  and  we 
begiji  to  fear  the  eflect  of  such  a  climate  while  pursuing 
our  journey.  It  turned  out  aflerwards,  much  to  our 
cost,  that  tliis  fcai-  was  gi-oundles3 ;  for  to  judge  of 
the  rewainder  of  Syria  by  Beyfout  is  rash  and  hasty. 
But  if  we  wore  miatakiiig  tlic  (uture,  we  enjoyed  the 
present 

Fnmi  the  town  to  tlic  river  tlie  road  jtasscs,  at  some 
hundred  yards  from  the  sca-ahoro,  through  a  weU-culU- 
Tated  country,  planted  with  nmlberry-trees.  2^ear  1i\e 
town  the  road  is  niuc}i  cut  up  and  muddy,  on  account  of 
the  rainy  season  ;  but  a  niilo  fiirther  it  improves,  being 
less  fre<iuented.  Refore  reacliing  the  river  banlf,  on  our 
left-hand  side,  we  cume  to  a  square  soUd  ruin :  the  rough 
blocks  of  wliich  it  is  constructed  seem  to  refer  this 
building  to  the  Roman  perind,  and  the  popular  belief 
attaches  to  it  the  legend  of  St.  George  and  llie  Dragon. 
It  is  here  the  monster  was  killed.  A  lai^  brown  spot  is 
visible  on  the  gray  wall.  Do  you  wish  to  know  how  it 
came  there  t  The  saint,  aflor  liia  victory,  found  it 
necessary  to  cleanse  his  hauiLs  from  the  blood  with  which 
they  were  stained.  It  is  this  blood,  mised  with  soap, 
that  has  left  the  unsightly  spot  on  the  venerabk-  ruin.  A 
little  further  on,  a  small  cbapcl  has  replaced  a  house  where 
the  wairior  rested  after  his  bold  adventure,  I  give  this 
legend  as  it  was  related  to  mo  by  the  guide,  who  showed 
08  the  way  ;  but  I  am  not  responsible  for  the  truth  of  the 
story. 

On  reacliing  the  Nahr-c-B'-yrout  wc  found  a  bridge, 
lately  built,  with  double  balustrades  and  several  arches. 
But  Turkish  neglect  of  everything  connected  with  means 
of  communication,  already  adowa  this  bridge  to  go  to 


10 


AN   ABAS   DINNKB. 


rain  ;  tlic  platform  being  in  a  x-ery  dilapidated  stfitc.  itnc 
consequently  unptea&int  to  borsemen  and  beasts  of  burthen. 
To-(Liy  w©  have  again  increased  our  nollections  of  natural 
Iiistory  ;  and,  after  several  hours  passed  in  those  lovely 
valleys  overshadowed  by  splendid  paira-irecs.  wc  return 
to  Beyrout,  and  prepare  to  avail  ounsolrea  of  the  kind 
invitation  we  have  received  from  Jletbouar.  He  lias 
promised  to  give  us  au  Arab  dinner  ;  and  we  look  forward 
with  no  little  satisfaction  to  the  idea  of  tasting  something 
quite  new  in  the  shape  of  cookery.  U  was  sunset  when 
we  arrived  at  bis  habitation,  a  very  Cue  one,  witb  a 
reception-room  ornamented  with  a  balcony  immediately 
overhanging  the  sea.  Wo  sat  admiring  from  the  terrace 
the  splendid  lights  and  shadows  of  a  setting  sun  on  the 
Lebanon.  Tlie  mountain,  all  white  with  snow,  assumes  a 
beautiful  pink  colour,  which  soon  passes  to  violet  ;  then, 
agaJQ,  cvorj'thing  is  dark  in  a  few  minutes,  for  m  this 
country  there  is  scarcely  any  twilight,  and  the  day  springs 
into  light  or  vanishes  into  darknoss  much  more  rapidly 
than  in  our  northern  climate.  A fier  having  enjoyed  for 
some  time  the  magnificent  evening,  wc  turned  to  appreciate 
tlie  culinary  talent  of  the  Arab  cordons  bleus.  'Hteir 
productions  appear  strange  enough  to  us  Enropeans  ;  but 
alter  all  they  are  not  so  bad,  and  Brillat  Savarin  himself 
might  luivc  been  contented,  with  the  mahcht,  the  coubbab, 
and  the  baklaouah  of  Medaouar's  first-rate  cook.  Of 
course  1  am  merely  giving  the  names  of  the  dishes  without 
pretending  to  explain  their  com])08ition.  According  to 
etiquette,  we  preluded  the  dinner  by  a  cup  of  coffee 
and  a  chibouk  ;  after  dinner  we  again  resumed  our 
smoking  and  coffee,  and  by  nine  o'clock  we  were  back  to 
our  lodgings. 


RUIKS  OK   Tim   SSA-snOKB.— SYftlAH   BAIS. 


11 


Ot^tnhtr  {Mil. 

Tbe  wiiid  has  gone  off  again  to  another  poiut ;  and 
though  the  weather  is  now  very  uncertain,  I  go  out  early 
for  a  work  which  I  am  anxious  to  accomplish.  It  would 
be  interesting  to  have  a  collection  of  ground-plans  of  all 
those  ancient  ruiuH  wliich  wo  have  descried  along  the 
sea^ore.  But  after  several  hours'  hard  labour,  1  liiid  I 
must  give  up  a  task  which  would  tako  nie  more  days  than 
1  con  pottibly  command.  On  leaving  Franco  I  promised 
to  myself  that  \  should  certainly  attend  the  Christmas 
solemnities  at  Bethlehem.  But  to  keep  this  ongiigcnieiit 
I  must  be  at  Jerusalem  by  the  24th  at  the  latest ;  and  J 
should  never  forgive  myself,  wore  1  to  miss,  for  some 
sketches  of  trifling  importance,  a  ceremony  which  I  shall 
probably  never  have  a  chance  of  seeing  again. 

An  I  strayed  away  from  tho  town  further  and  further, 
hoping  to  reach  at  last  the  end  of  the  ruins,  I  fell  in  with 
otber  vestigee  ecgttally  numeroufi.  I  concluded  tliat  it  waR 
oseleas  to  pursue  a  work  that  1  could  not  possibly  finish. 
Besides  this  difficulty,  showers — Syrian  ehowers — come 
pouring  down  one  after  the  other.  Vainly  I  take  shelter 
sometimes  behind  a  large  rock—sometimes  under  an  old 
doorway  ;  my  paper  gets  soaked,  I  am  soaked  like  my 
paper,  and  obliged  at  last  to  return  houie  much  against 
my  will. 

After  bn>akfast  I  go  out  again  to  tlic  beach  ;  but  this 
timo  intending  to  get  merely  a  pUn  of  the  basilica.  My 
friend  the  Abbe  accompanies  me  ;  and  we  begin  sketching 
together.  In  loss  than  two  hours  we  got  through  our 
work,  though  not  without  nmning  a  hundred  risks  of 
breaking  our  necks  in  walking  on  the  broken  rocks,  which 
the  eea  has  covered  with  a  slimy  vegetation,  upon  which 


BAftlMCA. 


the  foot  slips  Rs  if  it  was  soaped  all  orer.     All   tliat 
remains  of  the  monument  18  the  bare  skeleton  :  the  out- 
side walls,  originally  faced  with  freestone,  liare  disappcnred, 
carried  ofi"  very  likely  by  those  who  liarc  built  the  raodcm 
liouucs  of  Bcyrout.     To  tlieni  these  niins  were  au  arailAble 
quarry  close  at  hand  ;  and  Turks  would  have  considered 
it  downright  folly  to  go  and  crit  out  stones  in  the  mountain 
■when  they  had  these  quite  ready  within  reach.     Some  of 
the    foundation-stones    have  alone  remained,  fitted  and 
grooved  into  tJic  rock,  probably  because  they  wero  not 
vantod  cLsewherc.    The  building  is  no  doubt  of  great 
antiquity,  judging  of  its  ago  by  the  size  of  the  materials. 
What  constitutes  the  ruin  of  the  basilica,  as  it  stands  just 
now,  is  merely  the  core  of  the  old  walls.     This  c«re  is 
made  up  of  three  layers  of  masonry,  close  to  each  other, 
but  [wrfc'ctly  distinct  in  their  arrangcineut  and  composition. 
A  long  quadrangular  room,  terminating  towards  the  sea 
by  a  eircular  ajtsis  resting  against  the  inward  wail, — such 
is  the  general  clisposition  of  the  building.     The  side-walls 
close  in  towards  each  other  at  an  angle,  the  head  of  which, 
were  it  not  rounded  off,  would  be  in  the  ajtis  of  the  room. 
Outwai-dly  the  wall  is  strengthened  by  a  foundation  of 
solid  masonry,  and  of  such  superior  quality  that  it  lias 
resisted  for  centuries  the  utmost  furj*  of  the  waves.     The 
rock  Ijelow  has  given  way,  whilst  the  artificial  buttress  is 
still  untouched. 

To  the  left  of  tlio  basilica  there  still  exists  a  quay  of 
Roman  architecture,  but  it  has  suffered  much  from  tlie 
Surge.  To  the  right,  as  I  mentioned  before,  there  is  a 
line  of  square  tanks,  which  the  people  here  suppose  to 
have  been  baths,  and  which  probably  have  ordy  been 
cellars  used  as  storehouses.    Formerly  these  tanks  had  no 


EOMAN  QUAY    AKD  TAKKS. 


13 


communication  with  cacli  other ;  but  now  tlie  rock  seems 
to  have  been  perforated  by  the  salt  water,  and  the  aea 
goes  in  anil  out  alternately,  as  eacli  .su(;eeeditig  wave 
dashes  up  the  beach,  or  falls  back  again.     One  of  the 

I  channels  excavated  hy  thli  continual  movement,  presents 
trange  phenomenon.  The  water,  in  ni&hing  up  the 
harrow  conduit,  expels  witli  great  force  the  air  coutaiticJ 
in  it,  which  again  immediately  6ll8  up  the  void  when  the 
water  retires ;  and  thus  the  effect  produced  by  this 
strange  cavity  can  only  be  compared  to  the  blowing  of  au 
immense  pair  of  bellows  in  a  blacksmith's  shop. 

Reverting  to  tlie  old  building,  we  may  he  asked,  what 
was  its  former  destination  ?  It  is  scarcely  possible  to 
attribute  to  it  any  other  use  but  that  of  a  basilica,  a  large 
public  hall,  where  the  Phu;niciau  merchants  were  in  the 
habit  of  congregating,  probably  for  commercial  trans- 
actions. It  may  Itavo  been  the  exchange  of  the  Berytana. 
At  any  rate,  if  it  ia  not  poi^ible  to  point  out  with 
certainty  the  precise  use  of  this  edifice,  it  may  be  tafely 
asserted  that  it  was  not  a  t/ieatre,  for  it  is  quite  unlike  any 
other  building  of  that  kind  ;  and  besides,  it  could  have 
admitted  only  a  very  small  number  of  spectatord.     At  all 

;  events,  the  stnicture  must  have  been  costly,  for  the 
ground  is  strewed  with  fragments  of  pieeious  marble,  and 
the  entrance  at  least  has  been  inlaid  with  mosaic  work, 
although  coarsely  executed.  The  red  aud  while  cubes 
which  comp(we  this  mosaic  are  of  unequal  sizes ;  they 
do  not  form  any  well-defined  figures,  but  rather  a  kind  of 
iiregular  pavement,  of  which  we  saw  afterwards  some 
otlier  specimens  in  ruins  of  buildings  much  anterior  to 
the  times  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans. 

This  mosaic,  scarcely  concealed  hy  a  thin  layer  of  cartJi, 


14 


ANCIENT   MiWAIC   PWOB. 


forma  still  the  floor  of  the  entrance.  It  was  the  Abbe 
who  tirst  (liHCorered  it.  In  tiiii  eiiUiti&iasiu  Iio  lijistcned 
to  clear  away  the  rubbish  from  ouc  of  the  largest  pieces 
be  could  got,  with  the  intention  of  carrying  it  off. 
I  will  anticipate  n  little  by  saying  at  onco  that,  next 
morning,  very  early,  n()twitliHtaiuliug  the  hoetilc  clamours 
of  some  passers-by.  he  succeeded  in  his  nndertakintr  ; 
but  not  Without  exciting  the  wiH]iieioii  of  the  Turkish 
aiitlioritics,  who  cannot  imagine  that  Freuch  travellora 
should  look  into  tlie  earth  for  anything  but  gold.  A 
rumour  immediately  spread  through  tlie  town  that  the 
poor  Abbe  had  carried  off  I  know  not  how  much  treasure. 
Tho  I'acha  was  alanncd.  Ue  sent  a  deUichment  of 
soldiers  and  some  officers  to  inquire  into  tho  fact,  and  to 
rake  up  tho  ground  pointed  out  as  concealiog  such  unex- 
pected riches.  The  good  people,  on  finding  nothing  but 
flints,  persuaded  thtimHcIvca  eitlicr  that  wo  were  mad,  or 
tliat  we  held  intercourse  with  the  devil,  through  whose 
assistance  we  had  can-icd  off"  everything  precious  Jhe 
place  contained,  leaving  behind  only  the  worthless 
pubbles.  This  is  no  jest  of  my  own  invention,  and 
assuredly  tho  last  hypothesis  was  tho  ouo  decided  on  by 
these  intelligent  gentlemen. 

Ueturnii]g  home  from  our  excursions,  vie  think  of  going 
to  the  Consulate,  where  we  are  expected  As  it  has 
rained  all  <lay,  the  roads  are  almost  impassable,  so  wo 
avail  ourselvea  of  tlie  only  means  of  conveyance  at  our 
disposal  by  sending  for  horses ;  and  when  it  is  quite 
dark,  wb  sot  out.  preceded  by  a  servant  of  the  hotel, 
holding  one  of  those  paper  lanterns  which  you  must  never 
forgot  to  carry  about  in  any  Turkish  town,  if  you  wiali  to 
avoid  tho  risk  of  being  seized  by  a  patrolo  or  devoured 


VISIT  TO  THS  CQHSOLATE. 


l£ 


hy  parifth  dogs.  As  soon  as  we  Tiave  cleared  tbc  town, 
wti  get  entangled  in  narrow  {taUi.s,  Homo  of  winch  t^eem  to 
be  cut  out  of  tlic  rock  like  a  tligbt  of  ntsin  ;  oUiers  are 
kncc-Uecp  iu  saud,  aud  all  are  lined  with  regular  walla  of 
cactus,  or  prickly  pear.  I  confess  we  were  exceedingly 
anxious  to  avoid  any  encounter  with  this  Syrian  substitute 
for  a  green  bush,  for  nothing  is  more  disagrooable  than 
llie  pricking  of  the  thousand  needles  witli  whicli  the 
inhospitable  plant  is  bristled.  At  last  we  reached  the 
Coosulntc  without  having  our  eyes  scratched  out.  We 
bad  been  already  kindly  received  by  JI.  de  Lcsparda.  and 
hifl  tamily,  emulating  his  cordial  politeness,  contrived  to 
DUike  us  forget  that  we  were  no  more  in  France.  All  the 
members  of  the  Consulate  had  been  invited  to  do  us 
honour,  and  we  passed  a  most  deliglitful  evening.  Whou 
in  the  wild  deserts,  we  shall  oFlen  recal  the  memory  of 
the  little  French  colony  of  Be;>Tout. 

Every  one  here  is  more  or  loss  of  an  antiquary ;  we 
therefore  greatly  admired  several  choice  a[)ecimens 
collected  by  the  care  of  Al.  Perretie,  the  chancellor  of 
tlie  Consulate.  He  has  formed  an  ample  selection  oi 
raritiea  ;  and  some  of  the  antiquities  in  his  cabinet  might 
be  envied  by  tJio  riclieat  European  nmsenms.  At  half- 
past  cloven  o'clock,  just  as  if  we  were  in  our  mother 
country,  we  retiUTied  to  our  lodgings  by  the  same  road, 
taking  the  same  precautious  as  when  we  eaine. 

Otembtr  lork. 

It  rains  Uiis  morning  so  heavily  that  there  is  no 
getting  out ;  I  therefore  try  to  make  a  feir  copy  of  the 
sketch  we  took  yesterday,  whilst  1  wait  for  the  sky 
dearing  up  a  little.  But  I  vvait  in  vain.  Our  new 
friends  in  Beyrout  come  to  pay  us  a  visit ;  aAer  whicli 


16 


PEDESTAL  WITH   LATIS   IN3CBIPTI0S. 


wc  go  to  the  custom-liousc  to  bunt  for  our  missing 
trunk.  By  patient  searching  we  find  it  at  last  under 
a  pile  of  goods.  Towards  four  o'clock  we  are  joined 
bv  Atedaoimr.  Speaking  to  him  about  ancient  itutcriji- 
tious,  I  in(|uircd  if  tJicre  are  an;  to  bo  met  with  in 
Be/rout?  lie  teils  me  a  pedestal  has  been  lately  found 
in  his  own  garden,  with  a  long  Latin  inscription  upon 
it.  During  a  lull  in  the  wcatticr  we  run  to  the  spot 
and  take  an  impression  of  this  legend  hitherto  unheard 
of,  and  then  return  in  all  haute  to  the  hotel,  for  nhelter 
against  the  rain  that  comes  pouring  down  again  Just 
at  the  most  troublesome  moment ;  I  mean  when  wo 
are  busy  copying  the  characters  from  the  stone.  From 
these  character  it  appears  that  the  inscription  is  posterior 
to  the  time  of  Scptiniius  Sevcrus.  It  tells  us  that  a 
certain  husband,  called  Rufiis  Artoriauus,  erected,  at  his 
own  expense,  a  marble  statue  to  bis  wife,  the  most  pious 
and  chaste  of  women  ;  and  adds  that  ho  hns  done  so  as 
an  example.  Of  what  is  it  to  lie  an  example,  and  to 
whom  1  to  the  ladies,  or  to  the  gentlemen  of  his  time  t 
bo  docfl  not  tell  us.  If  the  lesion  is'  addressed  to  the 
ladies,  M.  Artorianus  is  uugallant ;  if  to  tJie  htuhands, 
ho  is  a  coxcomb.  Why  should  he  announce  in  his  com- 
monioratire  phrase,  that  he  has  had  no  other  object  iu 
tfiH>cting  that  statue  than  to  hold  up  an  example  1  Could 
he  not  sincerely  regret  a  good  and  kind  wife  without 
UAkiu£  himself  ridiculous?  But  I  am  cliattering 
«tK>uA  what  du&s  not  concern  me,  and  it  is  raining  all 

Ih*  miu  oontiiiucs  still,  and  yet  we  must  start,  if  wo 
Itmn^  at  Bethlehem  on  tlio  24th.     The  day  is  long 


PBBPAEATI05S  FOR  DBPABTUSE. 


17 


anc]  tedious ;  and  we  feol  as  impatient  as  if  wc  had  been 
imprisone<l  for  six  months.  Towards  three  o'clock  tlic 
rain  seems  to  abate  a  little,  and  rather  than  continue  shut 
up  in  this  dismal  place,  we  make  a  ila.sh  in  the  direction 
of  Raz-Bojrout,  but  not  without  being  obhged  to  take 
shelter  more  than  once  in  an  Arab  caf6,  long  enough  to 
give  I'hffibus  an  opportunity  of  showing  himself,  if  he  wore 
80  inclined.  But  he  coiitinuus  aulky,  and  wc  proceed  on 
our  walk  without  him.  We  explore  some  new  rocks  near 
the  sands,  and  we  find  there  tmniistaliabie  signs  of  ancient 
structures — cisterns  and  wells  of  no  great  depth,  but 
clearly  defined.  Night  comes  upon  us  miawarca  whilst 
wc  are  still  busy  collecting  shells  and  insects,  and  we  have 
to  go  home  in  a  hurry.  The  clouds  seem  to  separate.  Let 
m  hope  the  omen  is  fiivourable. 

•  Aecm&n- IM 

Impoasible  to  tarry  here  any  longer.  Whatever  may 
tuni  up.  we  must  be  off.  Yesterday  two  young  French- 
men, who  came  with  us  by  the  "  Austria,"  liave  set  us  a 
good  example  ;  they  have  started  for  Jerusalem,  and  no 
doubt  they  have  stopped  this  night  at  Saydah.  To- 
morrow we  shall  take  the  same  course.  We  must  have 
(air  weather  at  last,  though  it  blows  very  hard  just  now. 
But  the  wind  is  in-shotc  ;  if  it  turns  to  the  northward, 
wc  may  reckon  safely  on  several  fine  days.  The  sea  roars 
Jo  sudi  a  style  that  we  can  he.ir  it  from  our  room  as 
distinctly  as  if  we  were  on  the  beach.  We  pack  up  our 
thiogs.  dismissing  all  superfluous  articles,  and  retaining 
only  what  is  absolutely  necessary.  A  horse-dealer  is  intro- 
duced with  horses  and  mules  to  let.  We  bargain  with 
him  for  the  number  of  animals  wc  require  to  ride  and  to 
carry  our  luggage ;  twelve  piasti-cs  a-head  on  marching 


TOU    t. 


M 


CDKSTASTIKIt  THE  COOK. 


dlgok  mx  piaetr«e  when  hallinn; ;  sucb  is  the  usual  rate. 
KacloK  we  hare  brotiglit  witli  uh  our  own  Raddles ;  the 
Torlueh  saddle  would  soon  have  disabled  us.  I  expressly 
to  any  traveller  going  out  to  Syria  to  bring 
hiin  this  mo6t  necessary  article  in  liis  cqiiipnient. 
(,>ur  stafT  is  ndw  complete.  During  our  stay  in  AlliCDS 
«•  ttufwtunately  engaged  as  a  cook  an  animal  called 
CUastantiae,  vlio  served  in  that  capacity  during  our  oxpe- 
ditioD  in  Greece.  He  is  tlie  most  perfect  sample  of  the 
ttrwk  rogue,  of  all  rogues  the  most  accomplished ;  a 
cvbgiug.  fawning,  sneaking,  knave.  In  Athens,  again, 
we  also  engaged,  through  pity  ratlier  than  because  we 
wautiHl  him,  a  tall  Levantine  valet,  boni  of  French 
pMVnttt,  by  name  Audru  KobouL  Ho  pretends  to  act  as 
our  dragoman  or  interpreter,  though  ho  only  knows 
Clreok,  Turkish,  Russian,  and  French, — languages  which 
hapjMMi  l*>  bo  perfectly  useless  in  the  comitr)-  we  are  going 
|i>  travi-l  through.  He  has  equipped  himself  as  a  Turic, 
and  haA  inktm  into  his  head  to  put  on  red  garments,  which 
iikokfl  him  htok  quite  hideous.  He  gives  himself  great 
aint,  such  as  might  suit  the  chief  butlcr-or  major  domo 
in  ft  rich  family  ;  and  under  pretence  of  controlling 
III,  Conslaiitine's  purchases,  buys  away  in  great  stylo  for 
u%  but  without  cousultiiig  aiiy  one.  On  the  whole  he  is 
a  gocKl  sort  of  fellow,  making  much  fuss,  doing  what  lie 
has  lo  do  indifferently  well,  but  approving  only  of  what 
ho  has  done  himself.  To  fill  up  the  list  of  our  attendants, 
Kdward  Dclcssort  and  Loysel  have  brought  with  Ibom 
Mch  a  faithful  and  devoted  servant,  and  these  bravo 
Ibllows  are  considered  by  us  as  real  friends,  rather  than  as 
more  followers.  Both  have  taken  a  gi'cat  fancy  to  natural 
bMorv  :  and  if  there  is  any  new  or  precioits  specimen  to 


STBIAX   HtJLETEKRB. 


Ifl 


• 


I 


found,  ITiilippc  or  Louis  is  sure  to  discover  it.  Maater 
Constantino,  who.  from  the  teniis  of  our  agreement, 
speculates  on  ]iluiidering  us  of  money  unough  t<>  kcup  a 
servant  to  himself  (that  is,  a  man  whom  he  will  treat  ag 
a  galley  slave,  whilst  he  compels  him  to  do  nearly  all  his 
own  work) — (laDtcr  Constantino,  I  say,  has  taken  with 
bim  a  Jracedoaian  Greek,  called  Nicholas,  an  honest  fellow 
in  the  main,  and  not  deficient  in  coiu-age,  but  too  iniicli 
of  a  drunkard.  The  creature  is  dressed  in  his  ualioiial 
garb,  now  nearly  white,  but  which  we  shall  see,  no  doubt, 
passing  tJirough  all  the  coloiu^  of  the  rainbow,  especially 
Uio  darker  coloura. 

We  arc  all  ready,  having  taken  such  money  about  us 
as  we  deem  sufliciuut  for  our  journey,  and  with  our  (ukreh, 
or  Turkislt  passports,  in  oitf  pockets.  To-morrow  we 
Mart  early  in  the  morning.  Wo  spend  the  remainder 
of  this  day  in  making  our  farewell  calls.  The  weather 
is  fine  ai  last,  and  Prondence  aeems  to  smile  on  our 
enterprise. 

The  man  who  has  not  begun  a  jounicy,  having  to 
depend  CD  Syrian  mtileteers  (moukris),  can  have  no  idea 
bow  angry  he  can  be  with  tiis  fellow  men  without  breaking 
every  bone  in  their  bodies.  At  sercii  in  the  morning  we 
are  quite  reatly  ;  the  sky  is  beautifully  clear.  Well,  let 
us  be  off !  Wait  a  little  :  the  mules  arc  not  yet  loaded, 
the  horses  ore  not  harnessed.  Patience !  Another  hour 
goes  by  ;  again  the  same  storj*.  At  nine  we  feel  hungrj'. 
and  to  divert  our  ill-humour,  we  make  up  our  minds  to 
breakfast  in  Beyrout,  expecting  to  get  on  hor-seback  imme- 
diately aftcrwanls,  and  U*  make  up  for  the  timo  lost  by 
marcliing  on  without  a  halt.     Wc  have  just  emptied  the 


to  DlFKICl'LTllM  OF  A  START. 

dtirruji  Clip.  Kvorythiiig  iiuist  be  ready  now,  so  let  us 
(jii  tlowii  Oh  I  tlio  wrotchea.  There  they  are,  chattering, 
or  rnthiT  Imwiiiig,  n»  if  they  thought  each  other  deaf; 
but  not  H  t>onst  in  liuittoil.  Everyone  seema  to  think  bis 
itoichlHUir  iH  to  <.lo  his  business  for  liim.  As  ve  should 
iiovt'i-  start  at  ttiis  rate,  wc  begin  to  get  angry.  They  take 
lliitt  oiiportiuiity  to  nslc  its  for  a  bacshish  (a  present). 
\\'t>  ^ivt<  tlti'ui  plenty  uf  abuse  and  some  thrasliing.  Little 
by  littlo,  howovcr,  through  keeping  our  eyes  upon  them, 
wo  ^^l  the  iiuiloteerH  to  toad  our  beasts.  Every  bundle 
w  (ittt'ktnl ;  wtt  aiv  fortunato  indeed !  Well,  we  are  off 
tliiH  tinto  !  Slay  a  niinutt'.  Master  Constantine  has  bought 
NO  luftiiy  good  things  fur  our  table,  that  he  must  have  two 
uton^  nniliM,  whiiOt  ho  wants  us  to  pay  for.  This  time  it 
in  rnlhor  too  niuvh  of  a  goo<.l  joke,  so  wc  leave  our  scoim- 
(Irol  to  K>'t  out  of  tlio  ditUculty  as  he  best  can,  and  set  out 
Ht  Wt  at  hiilf-piMt  eleven.  It  has  taken  something  like 
llvi'  lutiirH  til  liKid  and  haniess  twenty  horses  and  mules  : 
a  vtn'y  prouuHiug  bt^giiining.  If  we  are  to  have  the  same 
iHm»>dy  i>vi»ry  day,  wo  may  chance  to  reach  Jerusalem  in 
H  luoulli. 

Oww  f«  ii>Hlf,  our  iU-huiuour  gradually  gives  way. 
\V»»  li>«vo  tho  town  by  the  gate  leading  to  the  Saydah 
Hud  l>aim«iou8  roads,  proceeding  first  eastward,  and  then 
UU'ltiltg  otV  to  the  soutli.  Before  taking  this  last  dii-ection, 
wy  («ws  through  a  pine-forest,  which  was  pkoted  long 
Hgti,  as  the  story  goes,  by  a  certain  Emir  Fakhrnjud-deen, 
lo  atop  the  progress  of  the  enci-oaching  sands.  The  idea 
wan  an  excellent  one;  but  wood  for  building  is  very  scarce 
tit  this  country,  and  it  was  a  great  convenience  to  End 
U  oliwo  to  the  city  gate ;  so  all"  the  finest  trees  were 
suv-c-oiwivfly    cut    down   by    the    Turks,    and   it    is   only 


OOMMENOBMBNT   OP  THB   JOl'RNEV. 


witliin  these  few  years  that  uew  plautations  tuivo  beoD 
undertaken. 

Once  m  ibo  santls,  all  vegetation  disappears ;  though 
le  pretty  little  coloquintidaa,  ;;fre('ti  and  yellow,  will 
aetiiacs  appear  above  jfruuud,  while  thcU'  stalks  creep 
along,  buried  in  the  sand.  We  find,  also,  here  and  ther^ 
some  small  green  patches,  produced  by  a  pretty  crucifonu 
plant,  with  a  large  puik  and  white  flower.  Our  horses  get 
on  very  sltjwly,  and  seem  to  undergo  groat  fiiliguo ;  wc 
are  therefore  uicluicd  to  be  merciful  and  compassionate  to 

I  thorn  ;  when,  about  an  hour  after  starting,  and  juat  as  we 
had  crossed  a  small  river,  called  the  Ouad-el-Rhadlr,  my 

jscm's  charger  shows  us  all  of  a  sudden  that  he  is  not 
particuUirly  tired ;  for  the  saddle  having  been  loosely 
gtrtJied,  turns ;  the  boast  soou  gets  rid  of  his  rider,  kicks 
off  crupper  and  accoutrements ;  wUeu  free  of  every 
fmpediment,  takes  two  or  three  rolls  on  the  sand,  and 
thou  bolts  off  at  a  liard  gallop  towards  Beyront.      So 

[much  again  for  our  bad  luck.  Wc  should  have  felt 
greatly  annoyed  by  this  forced  halt  at  the  Khan-el- 
Rhadir,  wei-c  it  not  that  it  afforded  us  the  opportunity 
of  collecting  an  ample  harvest  in  objects  of  natural 
history. 

Said,  one  of  our  moukris,  has  galloped  off  in  pursuit, 
and  vfc  are  not  without  hopes  that  the  fugitive  may  be 
8toppe<l  on  the  road  by  our  baggage-carriei"s,  supposing, 

,  however,  that  Master  Constantine  has  at  last  finished  his 

'  preparations.  In  about  an  hour,  Said  returns  to  camp 
with  the  fugitive  horse,  and  some  minutes  afterwards,  wo 
are  off  again. 

At  throe,  we  reach  the  Khan-el-KhahUh,  a  miecraUe 
specimen  of  a  kban,  built  on  the  beach>  opposite  to  a  low 


22 


KIMTBOPOMS   OF   EL-KIIALDAII. 


accessible  ridge  of  rucks,  amoog  whidi  wc  descry  some 
ancient  sarcophagi.  We  liave  scarcely  two  honre'  dny- 
liglit  iefl,  so  it  is  ({oitc  imiMJistiibtc  to  rcacli  Saydati  tliLs 
CTcning.  aud  wc  ttad  better  stop  where  wc  arc  to  cxamiue 
the  necropolis  before  as. 

Just  98  wc  arrive,  we  perceive  a  troop  of  rery  good- 
looking  Arab  horfiemen,  hawking,  some  himdred  yards 
in  front;  but  whilst  we  deliberate  if  wc  are  to  select 
Kl-Khnldah  for  our  first  re&Uug-place,  they  ride  ofL 
Ko  sooner  dismounted  than  we  nin  to  the  sarcophagi : 
wc  Ijad  imagined  tlicre  wore  only  a  few  of  these,  but 
the  whole  hill-side  is  covered  with  them  ;  all  broken  and 
violated ;  not  one  to  be  foiuid  miiiijiu-ed.  Wherever 
the  rock  juts  out  it  has  been  cut  into  a  tomb.  Some- 
times tliore  ai'O  long  piles  of  these  stone  sepulchres,  with 
their  covers  broken  to  pieces,  or  lying  upset  ou  the 
ground. 

Behind  the  khan  there  are  heaps  of  ruins,  which 
indicate  the  situation  of  an  ancient  city.  One  might 
suppose  it  to  have  been  of  no  great  importance,  were  it 
not  that  the  immense  number  of  sarcophagi  collocted 
togetJier  close  by,  would  prove  the  contrary.  Then, 
again,  it  is  too  great  a  distance  from  Boyrout  to  imagine 
that  El-KIialdah  should  have  been  merely  the  necropolis 
of  that  town.  We  mu.st  therefore  conclude  that  EW 
Khaldah  stands  ou  the  site  of  some  I'licouiciaii  city. 

Whilst  our  friends  are  all  busy,  looking  out  for  plant*, 
insects,  or  game,  EduTird  and  I  turn  our  attention  to 
the  necropolis.  We  discorer  a  Greek  fimeral  inscription, 
but  so  worn  by  time,  that  it  is  impossible  to  make  out  the 
characters :  the  name  of  Juliana,  is  all  wc  can  decipher. 
Going  up  southward,  we  croiis  the  bod  of  a  torrent  by 


KUAK   AT  BL-KtUU>A(I. 


23 


P 


means  of  a  bridge,  formed  of  a  tHUglc  rodt,  liirown  from 
bank  to  bank.  When  yo\i  have  crossed  this  bed.  the  piles 
of  sarcophagi  reappear  ju»t  as  numerous  as  on  the  other 
mde.  One  of  these  is  most  remarkable.  Upon  one  of  tiiu 
sides  of  the  stone  coflin,  the  head  of  which  is  completely 
broken  off,  wo  finti  a  bas-relief,  in  prettv  good  style, 
representing  a  winged  genius,  witli  in-o  fiiil-face  busts 
to  tite  right  and  lefL  Unfortunately  all  tliis  is  much 
mutilated ;  but  notJiing  can  be  more  imposing  than  the 
aspect  of  tbis  tomb,  the  Ud  of  vhich  is  still  entire,  and 
oovent  what  remains  of  the  coffin,  although  it  Itas  beca 
nolcQtly -displaced  from  its  original  position. 

Night  coming  on,  very  much  to  our  regret,  puts  a  stop 
to  our  rambles.  We  rcturu  to  the  klian.  Our  luggage 
is  arrircd,  and  Cooatautine  is  at  work.  Andre  has  drosscd 
oar  camp-beds  in  two  horrid  cells,  <lirty,  and  fiill  of 
rermin ;  but  wo  must  be  content  perforce ;  and  so  we 
are.  content  and  men^. 

Before  tlie  door  of  our  nleepiiig  apartment,  and  resting 
against  the  wall,  is  a  small  shed,  open  to  the  wind  on 
three  sides;  tliis  is  our  dining  and  writing-room.  Though 
the  wind  is  high,  and  nearly  blows  out  oiir  candles,  we 
peraist  obstinately  in  taking  notes,  and  retouching  our 
drawings  with  ladian  ink.  Of  course  we  make  but  slow 
progress ;  and  when  we  are  called  to  dinner,  our  work  is 
&r  from  fiutshcd.  Whilst  we  are  dining,  a  long  caravaa 
of  Greek  pUgrims,  proceeding  to  JeniKalem.  come  up  to 
the  same  halting-place.  Men,  women,  and  children,  and 
all  sorts  of  animals,  bivouac  confusedly  in  the  open  air 
close  to  us.  Nothing  can  be  mgre  picturesque  tlian  tlie 
sight  of  this  encampment  with  tbu  fantastic  figures  moving 
before  the  light  of  tiie  large  fires. 


H  ANCIEKT    UELDUA. 

Danville's  map  indicates  at  the  very  spot  where  we  have 
halted,  an  ancient  city,  called  Heldua.  Id  the  "  Pilgrim's 
Progress  from  Bordeaux  to  Jerusalem,"*  there  is  also 
mentioned  a  place  of  the  same  name,  distant  twelve 
Roman  miles  from  Berjtus,  aad  only  eight  miles  from 
Porphyrion.  The  Rev.  Dr.  Robinson  supposes  that  these 
two  numbers  have  been  misplaced  and  reversed ;  and  it 
is  very  likely  he  is  in  the  right.  There  can  be  do  doubt 
that  the  modem  name  of  El-Khaldah  may  be  exactly 
identified  with  Heldua. 

After  the  miserable  dimier  served  out  to  us  by  Con- 
Btantine,  for  which  he  charges  us  sixty  francfl,  though 
certainly  it  has  not  cost  him  five,  we  complete  our  diaries 
as  fast  as  we  can,  and  turn  into  bed.  Positively  the  khan 
of  EI-Kbaldah  is  an  objectionable  resting-place.  But  we 
have  begun  campaigning,  and  must  bear  all  that  happens 
without  a  murmur. 

DtceoUierUA 

With  the  first  ghnipse  of  daylight,  part  of  our  little  band 
is  already  up  and  in  action.  Of  course  there  are  some 
late  sleepers,  those,  for  instance,  who  need  more  rest 
because  they  are  the  youngest  of  the  party.  As  there  is 
no  immediate  necessity  for  rousing  them,  let  them  enjoy 
themselves.  The  Abbe  is  the  most  active  of  us  all. 
When  he  chooses  to  sleep  no  one  sets  to  it  in  better 
earnest ;  but  when  he  imagines,  right  or  wrong,  that 
daylight  is  coining,  he  listens  to  no  remonstrance ;  no 
abuse  even  will  stop  him.  So  I  find  him  on  the  beach 
before  daylight,  looking  for  shells  and  marine  plants. 

The  pilgrims  of  the  caravan  are  already  moving  off,  and 

*  "  The  Pilgrim'fl  Prcfp'eaH  from  Bordeaux  to  JeniBalem,"  writteD  in  Uie  year 
ol  aur  Lord  333.    (NoM  b;  tli«  TnuuUtor.) 


ATTEMPT  TO   COPY    A    BAfi-KKI.lBP, 


25 


we  Imve  not  yet  caught  a  glimpse  of  any  of  our  moukris ; 
but  the  uccropulis  on  wliich  wo  staJid  is  so  very  inteiv 
estiiig  th»t  I  am  in  no  hurry  to  leave  it ;  the  more  so  as 
we  wish  to  have  an  impression  of  the  i>a»-rotief  already 
montioncd.  We  set  to  work ;  unfortutuitely  it  is  necea- 
sary  to  foM  together  such  »  quantity  of  moist  paper  to 
take  in  nil  the  outline  of  the  carving,  tJiat  wo  shall  never 
succeed  in  making  it  hard  enough  to  bear  ofiT  the  stamp. 
We  collect  some  dead  wood,  and  make  a  lire  to  dry  the 
paper,  but  with  very  little  success.  Not  to  mention  again 
this  unfortunate  stamp,  upon  which  we  lost  so  much  labour, 
I  will  tiay  at  oucu  (hat  it  was  a  complete  failure,  and  that 
the  first  time  we  examined  it,  we  ouly  found  a  cake  of 
papier  ni£Lchi5,  without  the  sliglitest  appearance  of  an 
imprcssioQ  on  it. 

This  morning  we  contrive  to  gain  two  hours  in  our 
prejmi'ations  for  starting.  By  nine  o'clock  everything  is 
ready.  We  take  a  cup  of  coffee,  smoke  a  chibouk,  and 
move  off  with  splendid  weather,  which  reminds  us  of  the 
month  of  July  in  our  own  country. 

The  road  we  follow  lies  almost  entirely  along  the  sea- 
shore, and  we  do  our  best  to  make  our  honi(;s  tread  in  the 
water,  the  wet  sand  giving  them  a  firmer  footing.  After 
passing  Iwfore  tlie  village  of  Deir-en-Naimah.  and  leaving 
on  the  heights  to  our  left  Deir-cl-Kamar,  formerly  the 
residence  of  Emir  Ilechir,  we  descrj'  the  hamlet  called 
MclialUkat-cil-Damour,  and  wo  reach  the  bank  of  the 
Nahr-ed-l)amour,  the  TamjTas  of  the  ancients.  ThiH  is 
a  rather  large  and  rapid  river,  which  it  is  sometimes 
impossible  to  cross  when  it  suddenly  rises  in  the  rainy 
neauon.  There  was  formerly  a  bridge,  of  which  tlie  niins 
only  are  to  be  seen  a  few  hundred  yards  from  the  ford. 


26 


cKosstxG  A  Biren. — rns  pbopubt  jonaii. 


We  find  hero  some  fellahs  who  have  no  other  occupation 
but  Uiat  of  leading  by  the  bridle  travellers'  horses,  they 
entering  tlit*  river  with  tlic  water  iip  to  their  arm-pits. 
Tiieso  poor  people  receive  a  piastre  for  their  service,  and 
really  they  well  deserve  their  salary.  We  had  boon 
looking  forward  with  some  anxiety  to  the  diffiadties  of 
this  passage  on  account  of  the  rain  which  had  detained  J 
us  several  days  in  lieynnit.  But  if  the  Damour  swells^J 
and  becomes  dangerous  in  a  moment,  it  Hubstde^i  as' 
quickly ;  and  as  we  cross  it  is  quite  fordable  ;  the  waior 
does  not  come  more  than  half-way  up  tho  horses'  girtlis, 
and  we  reach  the  opposite  sliore  all  safe.  The  banks  of 
the  river  are  very  pretty  ard  green,  and  we  almost  regret 
leaving  the  sweet  meadows  watered  by  the  Damour. 
Inclining  a  little  to  the  eastward,  we  increase  our  distance 
from  the  shore,  so  us  to  avoid  the  pa^  of  llas-ed-l>amour, 
which  would  lengthen  our  journey.  We  pass  through 
fields  admirably  cultivated,  ttie  property  of  Kmir  Bcchir, 
and  wo  reach  a  kliau  on  the  sea-shore,  called  Khan-en- 
Nabi-Younia. 

According  to  tradition,  it  wan  at  tliis  place  that  a  sea 
monster  threw  up  on  Gto  beach  the  prophet  JoiuJi, 
punished  by  three  days  of  strange  imprisonment  for  his 
lukewarmncss  in  obeying  the  commandH  of  Jehovah.  A 
oualy,  or  small  Mussulman  cliapel,  called  Nabi-Vounis, 
stands  to  the  left  of  the  khan.  Behind  it  arc  some  fvUah 
cottages  ;  they  have  a  bettor  appearance  tlian  the  houses 
we  usually  sec  in  Arab  villagos  ;  and  close  to  the  road,  in 
the  hamlet,  we  find  several  broken  shafls  of  beautiful 
columns.  These  are  undetiiablc  tokens  that  a  large  town 
formerly  existed  in  the  neighbourhood.  Tu  the  right  of 
the  khan  there  is  a  delightful  bower  of  iharouAiers,  several 


BBACTiniL   3CKSEKT.  27 

hundred  yean  old  ;  before  it,  the  loveliest  sliore,  luid  the 
Phoenician  sea.  The  weather  is  deUghtfiil ;  the  prospect 
animated  by  the  constant  passing  of  the  caramns  going 
towards  Beyrout  or  St.  Jean  d'Acre  ;  the  sky  deep  blue, 
the  sea  kissing  the  ^orc,  iuxtend  of  beating  against  it ; 
date-trecit,  Arab  honiomen,  (^mols,  a  golden  sand; — all 
this  fashioned  by  the  hand  of  the  Almiglity  in  the  most 
beautifal  framework  of  nature — such  is  Nabi-Yonnis.  Of 
coarse  we  wore  uuwilliug  to  leave  this  lovely  spot.  But 
half  an  hour  was  all  the  time  we  woro  allowed  to  admire, 
though  it  was  hard  to  tear  oun>elv(»  away  from  sucli  a 

lie.  Our  two  artists  were  in  raptures,  and  declare  they 
will  return  with  their  pencils  to  this  dehghtlul  phtce. 
They  kept  their  word. 

What  can  have  been  the  ancient  city  which  its  founders 
conceived  the  noble  idea  of  erecting  on  thia  spot  ?  Some 
people  have  supposed  that  it  was  Porphyrion,  first  men- 
tioned by  Scylax,  and  which  afterwards  became  a 
suffragan  bishopric,  depcudcnt  on  Tyre.  Wo  have 
ejrtracted  from  the  "Pilgrim's  Progress  to  Jerusalem"* 
a  passage,  wliich  phtces  lluldua  bctwt^oii  licyrout  and 
Porphyrion,  twelve  miles  distant  from  the  first-uaujcd 
town,  and  only  eight  miles  from  tJie  second.  Agreeing 
with  the  learned  Dr.  Robinson,  wc  have  identified  Hcldua 
with  Kl-Kliatdah.  If  this  itlentification  is  correct,  the 
niunbers  must  have  been  excliangcd  by  some  ignorant 
copyist ;  and  Nabi-Younis  oorrespouds,  then,  exactly  with 
Porphyrion,  since  the  distance  between  Beypout  and 
Kabi-Youuls  is  precisely  twenty  Roman  miles.  The 
presence  of  those  splendid  fragments  of  ancient  monuments 
which  we  have  fuuud  on  tlic  spot,  is  another  argument  in 


'  ItiBjniT*  At  Bordwux  b  JoumIcio,"  tmailotod  ind  publiiUiod  \>y  MUler. 


m 


SiU-YODBR — PORrilYllIOV. 


favour  of  this  explanation,  which  was  first  suggisted 
Pococke.*  It  seems  therefore  that  Ucland  was  mistaken 
when  ho  looked  out  for  Porphvriou  towards  tho  foot  of 
Mount  Carmel,  on  the  other  side  of  the  Giilf  of  Acca.  I 
fthali  add  but  one  word  more  on  this  subject :  the  name 
of  Porphyrion  was  given  to  the  Phconician  town  on  account 
of  the  (iro/j^upo)  purple  sliell  fisherj-,  which  was  probably 
succcssliilly  carried  on  along  the  neighbouring  coast. 
However,  I  propose  to  discuss  at  a  fiituro  fciuio  tiie 
geography  of  Uie  Phtcnician  coast. 

It  is  past  tha-e  o'dock  when  wo  Icavo  the  Khan-ea- 
Nabi-Younls,  following  again  the  shore  wlicucvcr  we  can 
possibly  do  so.  Behind  us,  and  nearly  in  a  line  wiih  the 
kimn,  wo  leave  the  village  of  El-Djyali,  built  on  a  hill-side. 
The  heat  is  excessive,  and  at  times  we  stop  to  sl<ikc  our 
thirst  with  water,  when  we  are  lucky  enough  to  fall  in 
with  a  spring ;  for  inntauce,  at  Khan-a'in-es-i^okkeh,  on 
the  road  between  the  two  villages  of  Er-RaniUeh  and 
Djoun,  which  we  descry  succatsively  half-way  up  the 
valley  to  oiu-  IcfL  Opposite  to  the  first-uomcd  of  these 
Tillages  we  cross  a  ravine,  at  the  bottom  of  which  a  very 
ginall  river,  called  the  Nahr-er-Ramly,  disapp(;ar.s.  A  little 
fiirther  on  we  come  to  the  Nalir-er-Oualy,  wliicli  we  ford, 
the  stream  being  very  shallow. 

As  dnylight  is  waning  wo  discover  at  last  Saydah, 
stretching  out  into  the  sea.  In  this  day's  march  we  have 
very  seldom  left  the  sea-shore,  and  our  horecs  have  had 
their  feets. constantly  batlied  by  the  ripple.  The  splashing 
makes  them  step  short  and  sideways  in  the  most  ridiculous 
manner  imaginable.  Whenever  we  turn  inland  we  are 
sure  to  find,  for  instance  at   the    Kaz-en-Nabi-Younis, 


*  ate  Hwbiiuau,  vuL  iii.,  ]i.  il3'i. 


9An>An,  THE   ANCIBKT  flllXlS. 


39 


unmistakable,  but  very  disagreeable  signs  of  the  Roman 
road  wliicb  led  aloag  tbe  Plicenician  coast. 

Nigbt  bas  quite  closed  in,  but  Uie  moon  shines  brightly, 
and  tbe  temperature  seems  delightful  after  the  beat  of 
the  day.  At  last,  following  tJio  sea-aboro,  we  arrive  at 
the  gate  of  the  small  borough  which  occupies  the  place 
of  tile  ancient  Siduii.  Before  us  rise  stupetiilous  walls, 
through  which  there  seems  to  be  no  passage.  But  lo !  we 
turn  to  the  right,  and  then  to  the  Icfl,  I  do  not  know  how 
often,  threading  in  ludian  file  through  lauca  covered  oter 
by  thick  Taults,  which  seem  to  open  now  and  then  merely 
to  give  entrance  to  the  silvery  moonlight ;  and,  after  a 
miuute's  riJo,  we  enter  iato  a  large  square  court  sur- 
rounded by  high  galleries.  In  tlio  centre  of  the  court, 
where  our  luggage  ia  already  piled  up,  is  a  reservoir 
shaded  by  the  luxuriant  foliage  of  the  banana  and  other 
oriental  trees.  Tliis  ktiai]  is  a  French  establislinierit. 
The  French  Consulate,  a  church,  an  inn  kept  by  a  good 
Christian  woman  called  Angiolina :  you  find  everything 
in  this  khan,  tbe  aspect  of  which  is  very  pleasing.  This 
is  tiic  first  time  we  fall  in  with  such  good  (juartcrs,  and  we 
are  Uierefore  quite  delighted. 

Our  hostcffl  receives  us  very  kindly  ;  but  our  cook, 
though  he  has  liad  plenty  of  time  to  prepare  his  abomi- 
nable compounds  in  a  real  kitchen,  docs  not  give  us  much 
better  fare  than  ihe  day  before  ;  and  after  our  supper  we 
would  most  willingly  turn  in  to  rest,  were  it  uot  that  close 
to  our  bed-room  some  workmen  are  taking  advantage  of 
the  cool  night  to  pound  by  mooiUight  the  earth  with 
which  they  are  buildiug  a  terrace.  These  good  folks,  four 
in  number,  to  charm  their  labours,  sing  together  at  the 
very  top  of  their  voices,  seven  notes,  whicli  they  repeat  in 


so 


SrBlAS    VOCALISTS. — SthVX  OY  AWnqtHTY. 


constant  suooeHsioR,  tinimg  tJiero  witli  the  blows  nith 
wlticU  llicy  beat  the  eartli.  Two  of  tbcni  hold  on  with 
the  seventh  note,  whilst  the  two  others  begin  again  the 
whole  set,  and  so  on  without  cessation.  At  first  we  find 
this  music  something  uiicommoD  and  amusing,  but  after 
a  time  wo  get  tirod  of  it,  and  we  Khould  perhaps  in  tlie 
end  have  felt  annoyed  with  our  musical  neighbours,  if 
fatigue  had  not  very  soon  drowned  in  alucp  the  conscious- 
ness of  all  other  weariness.  Everj'thing  considered,  we 
are  quite  content  with  our  day's  work,  and  to-morrow, 
please  the  Lord,  we  shall  take  our  night's  abode  at  Sour, 
for  tloio  presses,  and  we  have  already  last  a  day's  marcli  ; 
but  we  have  thoroughly  exaniiiied  the  nccrupolU  at  El- 
Ivlialdah.  and  besides,  we  hope  to  make  up  for  the  hours 
we  liave  .spent  in  this  intiTesting  investigation. 

DmmitrliO. 

Before  daylight  we  are  on  fool  and  promcnadiog 
through  Saydah.  The  walk  is  not  a  long  one.  Fifty  paces 
through  a  wretched  ba/aai*  take  us  to  the  sea-beach, 
where  we  have  before  us  the  remains  of  the  pier  which 
anciently  closed  in  the  harbour.  We  are  oflered  every- 
where medals,  stones  with  carved  characters,  and  rcmuauts 
of  antiquity  of  all  kind-s.  I  purchase  two  funeral  slabs, 
with  Greek  inscriptious  of  no  very  ancient  date,  and  I 
assist  the  Abbe  in  taking  off  the  stamp  of  another  inscrip- 
tion of  the  same  kind,  engraved  on  a  l)as-relief,  which 
liaa  been  stuck  into  the  very  wall  of  the  khan.  It  is  the 
epitaph  of  an  arlisi  called  Julian  who  has  composed  it 
for  himself. 

At  exactly  eight  o'clock,  everything  being  ready,  we 
settle  our  accounts  with  Dame  Angiolina  and  mount  our 
koTM^tk    We  leave  Saydah  through  the  same  gate  by  which 


ROMAS   M11.E8TOHB8. — OAHB   IS    TLZNTT. 


31 


we  entered  last  night,  and  ride  at  first  along  the  city 
walU.  These  arc  everywhere  ornamented  with  banana 
and  palm  trees.  The-  suu  shines  out  in  dazitling  brilliancy, 
and  iJie  country  we  traverse  is  most  ap;reeable.  A  largo 
road  &liaded  by  tamarind  trees  and  ktiaroubiers  leads  us 
agaio  to  the  sea-sJiore.  Wc  are  gay  and  hearty  :  every- 
thing goes  right,  vre  only  regret  the  pleasant  sliado  we 
have  just  left. 

At  about  two  tliousand  yards  from  Saydali  wo  fall  in 
wit]i  a  splendid  shaft  of  a  granite  column  lying  close  by 
the  road-side.  It  is  a  milestone  which  had  been  erected 
by  the  orders  of  Septimiiis  Severus  and  Ciracalla,  in  the 
sixth  year  of  the  reign  of  the  first  of  these  two  emperors. 
Tile  inscription  is  still  |)retty  well  jiresurvcd.  and  wo 
remain  some  minutes  copying  it.  This  inscription,  already 
noted  and  published  by  Moncunys  in  1G95,  has  been 
pabUshed  again  with  corrections  by  an  English  traveller, 
Maundrcll.  Since  this  gentleman's  visit  in  1705,  the 
inscription  has  suffered  a  little,  but  it  is  noverthclesa 
evidently  the  same  stone  he  examined,  and  served  to 
mark  the  termination  of  the  second  Konian  mile  from 
Sidon  to  Tyra  A  little  fiirther  on  we  found  anoUier 
stone,  erected  at  the  same  tirno,  and  by  the  care  of  the 
same  pro-pra'tor,  Q.Venidius  Kufus.  whose  name,  according 
to  Kelaud's  statement/  was  written  quite  legibly  upon  a 
similar  column,  seen  betwccu  the  tirst  one  wc  liave 
mentioned  and  Sidon,  by  an  English  nobleman,  in  1699. 

Game  is  plentiful  throughout  this  country,  an<I  all 
our  caravan  to  their  heart's  content  make  an  amazing 
cousumptiou  of  powder.  LapnHngs,  ducks,  herons,  are 
by  turns  in   imminent  danger,   but  generally  the  poor 


S2 


A   PLEASANT   HALTINO-PLAUE. 


creatures  escape!  with  the  friglil  only.  Not  one  of  tliein 
thinks  of  fl,vingoffat  oiirapproach;  the  larks  walk  quietly 
under  our  horses'  feet.  Evidently  the  natives  of  this 
country  are  still  less  to  be  dreaded  by  the  feathered  tribe 
than  we  are  ;  the  reaaon  is  tliis  ;  tliey  have  all  too  great 
an  affection  for  powder  aud  shot,  which  they  keep  for 
better  opportunities  and  for  cjuite  a  different  species  of 
game. 

At  a  liltic  distance  from  Saydoli  wc  crossed  the  rivulet 
which  Die  Arabs  call  the  Nalir-es-Saynik  ;  then  leaving 
to  our  left  the  Ain-cl-Uliaziat,  wc  fall  in  furtlier  on  with 
another  little  stream  which  forms  a  kiml  of  morass  called 
Birket-ct-tell.  After  tliin.  on  tlie  sea-Nhore  and  on  a  stniajl 
promontory  we  see  the  Bordj-el-Akl)ca,  a  square  cower  in 
very  bad  condition. 

Wo  come  at  last  to  a  very  fine  spring,  the  Ain-el- 
Kliatitarali,  with  a  khan  of  the  same  name  close  to  the 
beach.  1'lie  sea-shore  is  here  shaded  by  splendid  tama- 
risks, peopled  by  myriads  of  goUlfinchcs  who  keep  up  a 
moRt  delightful  warbling.  It  would  be  impossible  to  Hud  a 
more  delightful  hulting-placc  ;  so  we  stop  here  to  break- 
fast until  the  heat  of  the  day  is  over.  We  do  not  start 
again  until  two  o'clock.  Soon  after,  we  leave  on  the 
height  to  our  left  the  modern  village  of  Sarfcut ;  to  outh 
right  the  promontory  of  Itaz-Sarfent  overliangs  the  sea,' 
and  we  arrive  at  the  ruins  of  Saropta,  the  Znrcphath  of 
the  holy  Scriptures,  called  by  the  Arabs  Kherbet-c-Sarfcnt. 
Here  resided  the  poor  widow  who  sheltered  the  prophet 
Elijah.*  At  present  nothing  remains  of  Sarcpta  but  some 
'  shapeless  rubbish  covering  a  good  deal  of  ground. 

A  little  further  on  we  pass  through  other  ruins  of  no 


■  1  Kiiiffs  xni.  9,  ID. 


NECBOPOUS  OF   ADLIHIX, 


83 


great  extent,  called  by  tho  Arabs  Kajrsarieh.  What 
Csesarca  tliis  can  be,  which  is  locntioocd  no  where,  I 
cannot  guess.  Wo  constantly  Fall  in  again  with  very 
clearly  marked  remains  of  the  Roman  way,  which  led 
along  the  coast  of  Phoenicia,  and  we  are  anything  but 
delighted  whenever  wo  come  to  them,  for  nothing  can  bo 
more  wearisome  than  travelling  over  the  stones  whicli 
formerly  pared  this  road. 

Wo  soon  descry  to  our  left,  and  only  a  few  hundred 
h  from  our  patli,  tlio  Nocroiiolis  of  Adloun.  Of  course 
we  cuinot  pass  it  by  without  stopping  for  a  moment. 
Besides,  I  have  been  told  there  is  in  this  necrojwlia  an 
Egyptian  stclograpli,  indicating  the  passage  of  Sosostris  ; 
the  attraction  m  (juito  eulHciciit.  We  ah'ght  from  our  liorsea 
and  begin  climbing  the  rocks,  which  are  everywhere 
excavatcfl  into  ancient  tombs.  After  having  carefully 
examined  some  of  them  I  act  out  in  quest  of  my  stelograph. 
I  do  not  leave  a  rock  without  inspecting  it  ti-om  top  to 
bottom,  and,  after  a  Hearch  of  an  hour  and  a  halC  I  dis- 
cover that  I  am  quite  alone,  that  I  have  completely  gone 
round  the  hill,  and  that  if  I  have  not  lost  my  time — for  I 
have  thoroughly  studied  the  largest  necropolis  in  Phcenicia 
— I  have,  at  any  rate,  lost  all  hope  of  finding  here  any 
thing  shaped  like  an  Egyptinn  baa-relief.  Vainly  I  put 
tho  question  to  some  Motiialis  whom  I  meet  accidentally 
•^with  no  great  satisfaction  I  confess ;  not  one  of  tliera 
has  ever  heard  of  any  inscription  cut  out  in  tho  mountmn. 
As  I  am  holding  a  pistol  in  each  Iiand  my  interlocutors 
are  very  polite  of  course.  I  think  at  last  of  rejoining  my 
companions,  whom  I  find  rather  anxious  for  ray  safety, 
and  shouting  out  with  all  their  might  to  recal  mc.  It  \& 
nearly  five  o'clock,  daylight  is  on  the  wane,  and  it  is 


vol.  t 


34 


ASTELOPB8,   JACK.ILL8,  AND   HTENA3. 


ilta 


getting  cold,  so  vro   take  to  our  horses  again  in 
baste. 

Tlio  gromiil  wc  tread  on  is  clamp  and  maraliy ;    w( 
D>u8t  proceed  carefully  not  to  break  our  horses'  legs.   The 
country  here  is  fill)  of  antelopes.    Sayd,  our  moukri,  nded 
ai  the  head  of  the  column,  singing  away  to  break  the 
dulness  of  oiir  march,  when  all  of  a  sudden  some  other 
musicians  join  in  the  cliorua.    Fimt,  it  is  a  troop  of  jackall 
who  accompany  us  for  some  distance  with  their  plaintive 
howling  ;  but  the  next  moment  they  give  place  to  a  mor 
powerful  performer.      A  hyena,  still  fasting  1  suppoRO, 
follows  for  some  time  on  our  track  from  hush  to  busli. 
sending  forth  doleftd  lamentations,  and  neeniing  to  implore 
us  fur  a  dinner  of  any  kintL  Sayd  immediately  relinquLshc 
the  honour  of  marching  in  front,  and  contrives  to  crce 
into  the  very  centre  of  the  party.     Every  one  cocks 
])iece,  and  wc  more  cautiously  on,  looking  sharply  to  thi 
Bide  of  the  road  where  lurks  our  uninvited  travelling  cor 
panion.      However,  I  do  not  understand  why  the  Aral] 
bold  the  hyena  in  such  dread,  for  nothing  can  he  mor 
cowardly  than  that  hideous  animal.     lu  about  half  an  hou 
the  brute  gave  us  up,  nnd  all  our  guns  were  slung  again. 

On  leaving  Adlouii  wo  crossed  tJie  Kahr-abouI-Asoued, 
close  to  the  ruins  of  an  ancient  bridge  ;    already,  before 
reacliing  the  necropolis,  we  had  met  with  a  small  strcaii 
over  which  wore  observed  the  abutments  of  some  very  oW 
construction  of  the  same  kind.     Lastly,  towards  half-pH 
^  o'clock,  whou  night  hod  noarly  closed  in,  wo  cross  tli 
Nahr-ei-Kasmich  over  a  fine  mpilern    bridge    (Djesr-el-' 
Kaamioh),  buUt  by  Ibrahim  Pacha,  and  arrive  almost  ir 
jnoiliately  at  the  Kliaii-cMCasmieh,  a  sort  of  ruined  fo 
tress,  where  we  are  obliged,  whether  wo  like  it  or  not. 


TROUni.ESOME   NIOHT   OOMPASIONS. 


3fi 


take  aliftltcr  for  tlio  night ;  the  khandji  docs  not  look  more 
inviting  than  his  establishment,  and  we  dotcnuiuo  to  keep 
guard  all  night,  each  of  us  mounting  sentry  liy  turns. 

A  host  of  pilgrims  of  both  sexes  liad  reached  tiic  khan 
before  os.  Andrr,  who  came  on  a-hcad,  lias  thouglit 
proper  to  turn  out  of  the  only  sheltered  vault,  the  people 
who  bad  already  taken  up  their  quarters  there.  Aa  he 
speaks  to  tliem  in  Tm-kisb,  and  makes  a  great  deal  of 
noiiie,  ho  succeeds  in  rendering  these  good  people  afraJd  of 
him,  and  they  ore  silly  enough  to  giro  up  their  room  to 
tiim.  or  ratlicr  to  us.  So  we  turn  in  in  their  stead,  but  reckon 
npon  passing  a  wretched  night  ou  account  of  the  vermin. 

In  tliis  respect  we  were  not  disappointed  ;  we  had  even 
the  surprise  of  an  additional  pleasure.  There  were  next 
to  us  »ome  cocks  and  hens  belonging  to  the  khandjt, 
and  wc  had  eatei'ed  on  possession  of  our  bed-room  with- 
otit  imafpning  that  wo  were  not  Uie  only  occupiers  of  the 
place.  But  scarcely  were  wc,  with  the  excoptton  of  tlic 
sentry  on  duty,  stretched  on  our  camp  cots,  when  one 
cock,  then  two  cocks,  then  a  host  of  cocks  began  crowing 
so  as  to  drive  us  mad.  We  caught  hold  of  the  trouble- 
some birds  and  expelled  thera,  notwithstanding  tlie  angry 
vociferations  of  the  khaudji,  whom  wo  turned  out  along 
with  his  pets.  But  alas !  the  wait  was  quite  full  of  holes 
which  wo  liad  not  thought  of  stopping ;  just  as  we  were 
enjoying  the  idea  that  wc  were  rid  of  our  crowing  ueigh- 
iKlurs,  they  began  once  more  as  shrill  as  ever,  all  the 
exiles  having  got  in  again  witli  the  exception  of  the 
khandji.  To  turn  tliem  out  a  second  tim<^  and  to  stop 
BurJi  apertures  in  the  wall  as  we  could  discover,  was  the 
work  of  a  moment ;  but  five  minutes  after  it  was  all  the 
same,  the  fowls  had  invaded  us  a  third  time.    So  we  gave 

D3 


op  fimho-  naiaaatx.  oMn^  ^  wisest  okekl  Ask  of 

hngiKa:;  as  oor  ansojan^e.  ami  '^jiiur  (}<ir  Iwsc  io  deep  as 

well  aa  we  cijul-i. 

DarE^  breaks  aEua  ;  elo  ocue  ms  c"m»*  prores  larr  or 
requires  to  be  caDe<l  Xow  cL»i  lec  i&  be  oC  ikop !  ve 
are  redoctmg;  witbonx  «ir  Loet.  La^  ni^iE  we  &i^kuxied 
the  tbanlji  9  poohiT ;  cat,  we  mrxteil  him  can  Jifm^f 
During  oar  sleep  be  has  taken  bn  rcTef^e&  Aiab  bocses 
never  straj  btm  ibe  encamiHng  gmnid.  tbu  is  a  wdl 
cstaUisbed  bcL  SciD,  this  monung  tbree  of  oar  htwses 
are  musing ;  they  hare  hem  stolen  of  course.  Bat  this 
does  not  salt  as,  anr  more  than  it  soita  oar  mookiis.  We 
inquire  aogrilT  after  oar  horses,  and  are  quite  pr^nred 
to  deal  vengeance  on  the  khandji,  and  an  old  ragged 
mendicant  who  seems  to  be  his  accomplice.  Threatening 
these  two  scoundrels  with  oar  pistols,  we  announce  to 
them  that  if  onr  horses  are  not  brought  back  immediatelj; 
we  shall  take  both  worthies  with  us  aa  prisoners  to  Sour, 
where  we  promise  to  procure  for  them  the  pleasures  of 
a  regular  bastinado.  At  first  they  listened  to  us  wiA 
prodigious  indifference ;  it  would  seem  as  if  thev  were 
totally  unconcerned  in  what  we  were  saying.  But  the 
khandji  very  soon  finds  out  that  we  are  in  no  jesting 
humour,  tliat  wo  are  clearly  the  stronger  party ;  and  as, 
in  this  country,  the  stronger  party  has  always  the  best 
of  tlio  argument,  and  as  it  is  not  quite  safe  playing  tricks 
with  people  who  speak  very  roundly  of  shooting  both  him 
and  his  honest  friend  through  the  head,  rather  than  of 
submitting  to  be  robbed  by  them,  he  makes  up  hia  mind 
to  go  in  quest  of  our  animals.  He  starts  with  two  of  our 
moukris  whilst  we  keep  our  eye  upon  hia  confederate-. 


AHBIVAL  AT  SOUK. — THE  AKCIiSST  TYKE. 


ST 


Within  an  hour  our  three  horsos  are  bi-ought  back  by  him 
ready  harnessed  Tlio  rt?ai!er  may  giiess  tliat  for  this 
once  we  did  not  pay  much  for  our  night's  lodging. 

We  arc  off  at  last  by  nine  o'clock.  The  khan  we  have 
just  left  looks  like  an  old  ruined  fortress.  Some  rcumitis 
of  ancient  .structures,  some  fragmetits  of  pillars,  are  rudely 
built  up  into  thfi  walls ;  and,  as  the  Arabs  seldom  employ 
any  other  materials  but  those  they  have  at  hand,  it  is 
very  probable  that  the  KIian-el-Kaaiiiieh  has  taken  the 
place  of  a  Phoenician  town,  which  we  shall  endeavour  to 
make  out  by  and  by. 

Leaving  the  banks  of  the  Nahr-el-Kasmieh,  the  lAmt^ 
of  the  ancietits,  we  cross  over  some  marsliy  ground,  at  tJio 
extremity  of  which  we  comu  up  to  a  kind  of  largo  horse- 
pond,  called  Ain-el-Barouk,  The  water  in  it  is  lukewarm, 
and  abounds  with  pretty  river  shells,  of  which  wo  make 
an  ample  collection  whilst  our  horses  arc  drinking.  Our 
sportsmen  again  fired  away  at  a  great  rate  (Jnring  the 
entire  march.  In  half  an  hour  more,  having  patjscd  on 
our  lefl  the  ruins  of  an  aqueduct,  we  enter  the  town  of 
Sour. 

Wo  take  up  our  lodgings  at  the  Austrian  consul's 
residence,  close  upon  a  dock,  of  no  great  depth,  formed 
towards  the  ojien  sea  by  the  remains  of  an  ancient  mole. 
We  arriveti  early  enough  to  obtain  a  look  at  the  town 
before  dinner.  Our  first  visit  is  to  the  nuns  of  the 
cathedral :  they  are  imposing ;  but  wliat  ctoites  our 
admiration  even  more,  is  the  sight  of  some  magnificent 
double  columns  of  pink  granite,  and  prodigious  size,  half 
Iniried  under  the  walls  of  some  modern  houses.  On  one 
of  these  walls  I  find  a  fragment  vf  an  itutcription  of  tlie 
thirteenth  century,  but  with  only  one  word  left,  llie  name 


38  BUINB   OF   CATUEDBAL   AKD    HSBAQLIO. 

MarescalcM.  After  this,  we  examioe  the  ruins  of  a  large 
structure,  which  thej  call  here  the  SeragHo ;  but  it  is  now 
deserted,  haviDg  become  unsafe  from  repeated  shocks  of 
earthquakes.  We  find  here  a  considemble  number  of 
shells  aad  insects ;  and  before  dayli^t  is  quite  spent,  we 
proceed  to  an  esplanade  of  ramparts,  commanding  the  sea 
from  a  great  height.  At  the  foot  of  these  ramparts  the 
waves  break  against  a  massive  wall  of  masonry,  in  which 
are  buried  without  any  order  or  distinction,  a  great  nom- 
ber  of  broken  pOlara.  time-worn  by  the  lapse  of  centuries. 
Some  excavated  rocks,  like  those  we  have  seen  in  Beyrout, 
appear  here  and  there  along  the  coast.  Such  are  the 
remains  of  Tyre,  the  splendid  metropolis  of  Phcenicia ! 

We  have  scarcely  light  enough  left  to  find  our  way  back 
when  we  make  up  our  minds  to  return  home  :  there  we 
are  visited  by  a  host  of  dealers  in  antiquities ;  but  thay 
have  nothing  very  interesting,  and  with  the  exception  of 
some  medals  and  a  pretty  httle  head  of  an  empress  in 
white  marble,  we  find  scarcely  anything  to  satisfy  our 
tasto  for  roUcs  of  by-gone  ages.  Compared  to  our  last 
night's  resting-place,  our  lodging  is  a  palace ;  and  this 
Umo,  at  ntl  events,  we  shall  enjoy  a  really  good  night 


CHAPTER  11. 


I>«p«tui«  from  Sour,— Roman  nm\ — TUnniui  oF  llm  nutlior'i  ton.— Tli«  white 
Qipa. — Eikandaroon. — Riilni. — Cyclepoui  ^iftllu. — Dt^ii  oiiil  MouiuIIimm. — 
AU^  or  St.  Jnn  d'Aora, — Fruiounm  oonvinit. — ESccU  of  buiuUirdiuciit  in 
IStO. — Oulf  iif  Acrt — Ilint>nir7  fniiii  lleyroiil  lo  Aitu. — Nnwrvlli.— (!lmrdi 
'  and  diiinbec  ot  Uia  Aiu>unciatioii.^DjeaiD.^A  tuuinible  kbaii. — A  thievmg 
eook. 

Iketnler  ITrA. 

rms  morning  at  eight  o'clock,  wo  have  reaumeJ  our 
marcli,  leaving  Sour  by  the  same  gate  through  which  wo 
entered  it ;  and  that  for  an  excellent  reason,  the  town  has 
no  other.  Ahout  a  liundred  yards  from  tliis  entrance  is 
a  kind  of  square  tower,  or  rather  reservoir,  called  the 
Ain-Habrian.  A  ftac  anciout  tiarcopliagits  is  used  here  as 
a  trough. 

At  first  we  proceed  eastward,  then  we  tnrn  to  the  south, 
in  the  direction  of  Dcir-Khanoun,  which  wo  descry  on  a 
distant  height.  To  the  right,  and  towards  the  sea-shore, 
at  about  live  liundred  yards  from  the  city  gate,  stands 
flurrouuded  by  gardens  the  Bordj-cl-Mogharby  (Western 
Tower).  The  road  stretches  across  a  level  of  rer)-  light 
sand,  aliOTc  which  wo  perceive  two  ehafls  of  columna, 
standing  at  about  a  thousand  yards  from  the  present  town 
of  Sour.  A  thou-wnd  yards  further  on,  and  in  the  same 
direction,  is  a  MuKSulman  oualy  (chapel),  called  Naby- 
Yahia,  and  also  two  considerable  farnjs  (Mezrao),  dcjicud- 
encics  of  Ilaz-el-Ain.     In  the  hamlet  so  called  (Kaz-cl-Ain) 


4U 


SOLOUOIf'S  VTBLUS. — ROHAN   ROAD. 


are  some  rery  roinaricablo  wcUs,  called  Solomon's  Wells, 
and  some  mills  wtiicli  are  set  In  motioD  hy  a  small 
i-ivcr  called  tho  Nahr  Raz-el-Ain  ;  and  lostlif,  beyond  a 
mill,  which  h  built  on  tUc  right  bauk  of  Uie  rirer,  is  a 
burying-ground,  The  hamlet  itself  is  about  live  tliouKand 
yards  <listant  from  Sour.  Wo  shall  see,  by  and  by,  what 
wc  arc  probably  to  make  of  Itaz-el-Ain  at  the  time  when 
Tyre  was  Nourishing. 

We  cross  the  Kahr  Raz-cl-Ain  close  to  the  niuia  of  a 
bridge,  muned  by  the  Arabs  Djcsr-ul-Maksour  ;  and  after 
having  proceodcd  for  several  hours  southward,  and  along 
the  sea-shore,  wc  direct  our  course  straight  on  to  St.  Jean 
d'Acre,  where  we  tnist  to  arrive  in  the  evening. 

Along  tlio  coast  wc  fall  in  again  pretty  often,  as  we 
have  done  for  rtays  before,  with  traces  of  the  old  Roman 
road.  The  weather  is  still  the  same,  and  the  temperature 
may  be  compared  in  every  respect  to  that  of  the  fine 
summer  days  of  our  own  country.  But  our  happiness  is 
nnfortuuately  marred  by  an  accident  which  we  were  far 
from  anticipating.  Towards  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning 
my  son  ia  taken  ill  again  with  fever,  and  is  seized  by  a 
very  violent  fit.  J  begin  to  discover  tliat  he  is  not  yet 
strong  enough  to  endure  the  fatigues  inseparable  from  such 
a  journey  ;  and  the  thought  of  tho  awftil  responsibility 
which  would  hang  over  me,  if,  unfortunately,  the  health  of 
my  only  child  were  to  be  permanently  injured,  leads  me 
to  ihe  resolution  of  sending  him  back  to  France,  where 
the  affectionate  care  and  superior  medical  attendance 
which  he  is  sure  to  hud  will  restore  him  l>efore  the  disease 
Im  had  time  to  grow  upon  his  constitution.  However, 
now  only  three  or  four  days'  march  fj-om  Jerusalem, 
home   without  having  accomplislicd  such   a 


ILLNESS  OF   TUK   AUTIIOBS  SOU. 


41 


^ 


image,  I  ktmw,  woiitd  be  to  him  a  stibject  of  endless 
■et.  I  therefore  impart  my  intention  with  hesitation 
and  reluctance  ;  but  at  tlie  same  time  I  comfort  him  as 
well  as  I  can.  iiiid  explain  how  necciisary  it  is  to  pnsh  on 
to  Jerusalem,  where  some  days*  rest  will  i-cstoro  his 
strength  sufficiently  to  enable  him  to  retrace  his  steps  to 
Beyrout,  and  then  proceed  from  that  place  to  France  by 
the  next  steamer. 

By  eleven  o'clock  we  pass  the  ruins  of  an  ancient  town 
of  considerable  size,  called  now  Kharbet-es-Chebraych. 
Thesd  ruins  lie  at  the  foot  of  the  abrupt  declivity  leading 
to  the  summit  of  Baz-el-Abiadh,  or  the  White  Cape,  so 
called  on  account  of  the  chalk  rocl;  wliich  forms  the 
promontory-.  The  road  is  cut  out  of  the  rock,  and  is  very 
steep  and  diificult  for  our  horses.  Whilst  we  ascend  it, 
the  Ahbc  and  my  son  have  remained  behind — thu  Abb^ 
to  collect  some  new  plants ;  my  son,  because,  labouring 
under  fever,  he  caimot  keep  up  with  the  pace  of  our  horses. 
All  of  a  sudden  we  hear  tlio  Abbe  cmlling  out  for  help  ; 
and  1  hasten  down  to  join  them  in  great  anxiety.  My 
poor  son  had  fallen  heavily  from  his  horse,  his  strength 
£kiting  him,  so  that  he  could  not  keep  the  saddle.  Indeed, 
he  had  been  very  nearly  either  killed  on  tlic  spot^  or  rolled 
from  the  highest  point  of  the  cape  into  the  sea. 

Supporting  and  helping  liim  in  the  best  waj'  wo  can,  wo 
carry  him  to  the  summit  of  the  cape,  where  there  is  a 
wretched  khan,  called  the  K  han-el-K  ham  rah,  and  a  deserted 
tower,  called  llie  Bordj-cl-BiaJuh.  or  White  Tower.  Close 
to  it  runs  a  stream  with  very  little  water,  called  the  Ain- 
el-Khamrah.  Here  we  niako  a  halt,  which  Iia*  become 
aheolutcly  necessary,  to  allow  my  son's  fever  to  subside  a 
little     Our  cook  Constantine  nets  to  work,  and  the  invalid, 


4£ 


HALT   AT   THE   BAZ-KL-ABUOn. 


covered  witli  the  cloaks  and  great  coats  of  all  the  party, 
enjoys  a  tguiet  sleep  inside  the  khan,  whilst  wc  break&xi  in 
the  open  air. 

Up  to  two  o'clock  wo  remain  iu  this  place  examining 
Oio  rocks,  and  collecting  from  among  them  some  sea- 
urcbius,  and  foiisil  shctls,  which  wo  have  great  diliicultjr  in 
detaching  from  the  chalkj  stratum.  Some  fine  plants, 
sutiio  ijisects,  aiid  sonic  land  Khollij,  all  quite  new  tu  ua, 
have  made  U3  bear  our  misfortune  with  tolerable  patience, 
so  that  we  do  not  much  regret  the  time  we  have  spent  at 
tlie  Ka/-el-Abiadh.  At  two  o'clock,  we  mount  again,  or 
rather  we  pretend  to  mount  our  horses,  for  on  tho  southern 
declivity  of  this  capo  the  road  is  quite  as  Iiad  as  on  the 
iiortbeni  side,  aud  we  are  obliged  to  take  great  precautious 
to  avoid  fre.sli  accidents  ;  at  last  we  are  again  on  a  level 
with  tho  shore,  and  oh  the  Roman  road.  At  some 
himdrod  yards  only  from  the  foot  of  the  cape,  we  stop 
before  a  tlouble  fountain,  overgrown  with  bright  gi-ccii 
mo.'^s,  and  placed  at  the  opening  of  a  small  cminoucc 
covered  with  rubbiidi.  These  remains  are  named  by  the 
Arabs,  Eakanderoou,  which  iudicates  undoubtedly  the  silo 
of  tlie  town,  mentioned  in  the  "  Itinerary  from  Bordeaux 
to  Jerusalem."  in  the  year  of  om-  Lord  333,  under  ttis 
title  of  Alcxandroschincs. 

We  had  tost  too  much  time  at  tho  Kluui-c-1-IChamrah, 
to  have  any  chance  of  reaching  St.  Jean  d'Acre  before  the 
closing  of  the  gates,  so  wo  make  up  our  minds  to  stop 
at  tlie  Khan-en-Nakoura,  which  we  shall  find  on  tho 
road  two  or  three  leagues  further  on.  We  allow  our 
lu^jage  to  precede  us,  and  my  son  being  anxious  to 
reach  the  resting-place  as  souu  as  puHiuble,  goes  on  with 
Uie  lu^^e.     The  remainder  of  the  party  proceed  as 


ESKANDEROOK.— THE  MUTHKK  OP  ratiABS. 


43 


usual,  slowly,  citrcfully  exatnining  everything  Uiat  appears 
worthy  of  obserratiou. 

Half-a-leaguo  beyond  Eskanderoon,  and  on  the  summit 
of  some  small  hills  covered  with  thorns  and  dwarf  trees, 
we  perceive  a  pillar  standing  erect.  I  immediately 
question  our  moukri,  Said,  who  has  a  very  good  know- 
lodge  of  this  country.  "  This  place,"  sajrs  he,  "  U 
called  Oum-el-Aamid  ;  but  no  traveller  ever  visits  it ; 
tb«e's  nothing  to  bo  seen."  Oum-el-Aamid,  the  Mother 
of  PiUars !  such  a  name  is  quite  enough  to  make  me 
determioe  at  once  to  run  to  the  spot.  I  push  my 
horse  out  of  (he  beaten  i>atli ;  and  through  tlic  tiigh  graia 
and  the  brushwood  I  reach  the  foot  of  the  declivity, 
upon  which  stands  out  in  bold  relief  the  oolutnn  we  have 
seen  from  afar.  Once  there  we  are  amply  repaid  for  our 
corioeaty.  and  for  our  firmness  in  not  listening  to  the 
rooukria,  who  are  always  ready  to  declare  there  ia 
nothing  to  bo  seen  wherever  we  propose  to  atop,  because 
the  place  appears  to  us  worth  our  examining.  Instinctively 
— also,  [wrliapH  tlirough  a  spirit  of  contradiction,  and  to 
avoid  travelUng  like  common  tourists,  who  arc  led  like  so 
much  lu^ago  from  one  place  to  another — whenever  our 
guides  assert  there  is  nothing  to  be  seen,  and  tliat  wo  had 
better  go  on,  we  immediately  stop  and  esiuniue  ;  and  it 
very  licldou)  happens  that  wo  do  not  succeed  in  making 
some  interesting  discovcrief . 

We  never,  I  believe,  liavc  had  better  cause  to  congra- 
tulate ourselves  on  this  determination,  than  in  the  present 
circumstance  of  Oum-el-Aamid.  On  tlio  very  first 
eminence  we  ascended  of  tlie  small  range  of  wooded  hills 
on  which  we  have  just  entered,  we  fall  in  with  sepulchral 
grottoes ;     the     coffin     of    an     onomiouH    sarcophagus, 


u 


JNTEKE8TINQ  BUIM8.— CYCWl'SAS   IVALLS, 


onuunentecl  in  Truiit  with  an  a3tar  cut  out  of  the  same 
block  of  atoue ;  tbea  again  with  -walls  of  Cyclopean 
structiu'O.  When  on  the  summit,  it  is  not  one  pillar,  but 
three  pillars  that  vrc  fnid  stnuding ;  one  only  has  preaerred 
its  capital,  the  game  wo  observed  from  the  road. 
Numberless  capitals  and  broken  shafts  cover  the  ground. 
The  capitals  are  Ionic,  and  elcgaiit  palmettos  curl  round 
ttic  shaft  at  the  summit. 

A  fine  mosaic  paved  the  monument  ve  are  now 
examining,  and  we  succeed  in  clearing  from  the  sur- 
romiding  rubbish  a  considerable  portion  of  it.  Black,  red, 
and  white  cubes,  regularly  intormi.\od,  fonn  graceful 
figures  on  tJic  fragment  we  have  before  us;  but  we  have 
ucilber  time  nor  means  to  ascertain  whether  this  splendid 
pavement  contains  more  elaborate  designs.  Beyond  this 
monument,  and  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  the  dt'clivities 
are  covei-cd  with  briars,  tlirough  which  numberless  walls 
of  Cyclopean  structure,  but  of  inferior  materials,  spring 
up,  forming  quadi'angular  iiiclosures  with  doorways, 
Kti])p(}rting  terraces,  and  what  may  liave  formerly  acted  as 
lumparta. 

Two  hours  are  emjiloyed  in  examining  very  imperfectly 
a  small  portion  of  this  ancient  city,  but  the  approach  of 
uight  compels  us  to  tear  ourselves  away  from  a  place 
where  many  most  interesting  observations  might  be 
made,  which  would  occupy  days ;  liowcver,  we  hasten 
to  get  on  horseback,  as  we  have  no  guide  wiUi  us,  niid 
are  anxious  to  recover  our  road  again  before  night  has 
closed  in. 

In  a  few  minutes  we  are  on  the  proper  track,  and  cross 
an  iucousidcTuble  sti-eam  over  which  there  is  an  ancient 
bridge^  in   ruins,  called    the  Djesr-cl-Madfoun,   (or  the 


EI^BASSAH. — COMHAT   WTTH    DOGS. 


45 


Buned  Bridge).  We  thought  we  had  no  great  distance  to 
go  to  rcacli  our  rCMtiiig-place,  but  when  wc  cxainiiK;  the 
Khaji-eu-Nakoum,  whei-c  wc  find  oiil}-  tlic  kliandji,  wo 
think  our  servants  }iave  done  right  in  pushing  on,  and 
in  believing  that  we  sliouhl  never  consent  to  pass  a  whole 
nigbt  on  such  a  dungliill,  wlit-rc  there  is  not  room  enough 
for  ourselves  even  without  our  higgage.  While  we  are 
conjpletely  at  n  loss  in  which  direction  to  proceed,  the 
chief  of  our  nioukris  comes  to  meet  us,  not  so  much 
because  he  felt  anxiety  on  our  account,  but  that 
he  wanted  to  persuadt;  us  to  turn  off  to  El-Bassah.  a 
village  quite  inland,  and  to  the  left  of  the  road  leading 
to  St.  Jean  d'Acre. 

Wc  leave  the  sea-shore  at  tlio  cape  called  Raj-el-AsIiraf, 
and  moving  eastward,  through  a  well-cultivated  plain, 
plantecl  with  fine  olive  trees,  arrive  after  three  hours'  ride 
at  the  entrance  to  El-Bassah.  Hero  we  liavo  to  go  from 
house  to  house,  fighting  our  way  through  a  legion  of 
savage  dogs,  who  bark  at  us  moat  fHriou.sly,  in  quest  of 
the  rcsting-placo  which  has  been  prepared  for  our  recep- 
tion ;  iinti)  we  arrive  at  last  in  front  of  an  extensive  barn 
occupied  by  a  Greek  priest,  and  used  by  liira  both  as 
church  and  habitation.  A  ladder,  cc)mposed  of  stones 
stuck  into  the  wall  at  regular  intervals  takes  us  to  a  plat- 
form on  a  level  with  a  large  nhpd  wliicli  opens  into  it. 
This  is  to  be  our  drawing,  dming.  and  sleeping  room. 
We  should  have  been  more  comfortable  here  than  in  our 
former  dormitories,  had  it  not  boon  for  the  smoke  and 
the  mosquitoes.  We  had  hoped  that  tlie  one  nuisance 
would  hare  rid  us  of  the  other ;  but  alas,  it  was  an 
illusion  :  we  were  devoun?d  all  night ;  hut,  cverj'thing 
considered,  tlio  day  Ims  been  a  splendid  one ;  we  have 


40 


MONPMBXTAl.   PILLAB. 


mado  some  capital  disoovenes,  and  to-morrow,  if  wo  mt 
witli  no  accident,  we  shall  be  at  St.  Jean  d'Acrc. 

Ikemilirr  ISM. 

Before  Bcvcn  o'clock  wc  wuro  on  horseback,  and 
directing  our  course  diagonally  across  the  country*,  so  as 
to  fail  in  again  into  the  Acre  road.  We  reach  it  a  little 
above  Ez-zib.  the  Ecdippa  of  Josephus,  and  the  Acli/ib 
of  the  book  of  Joshua  (xis,  29).  In  the  book  of  Judges 
(i,  31),  wc  read  that  although  this  town  had  bcwi 
as-^gned  to  the  tribe  of  Asher,  the  children  of  Asber  did 
not  succeed  in  taking  pOHi^jGs&ion  of  it,  or  in  expelling  the 
Canaanites. 

Ou  leaving  El-Bassah,  we  observed,  two  thou.'iand  yards 
distant  to  onr  left,  and  on  the  summit  of  a  hill,  a  tall 
mouumcntal  pillar  standing  alotic,  which  tlio  niotikris 
call  Amoud-el-Kamsy  ;  I  regret  exceedingly  not  liiiviug 
had  time  to  examine  it,  and  I  hope  the  attention  of 
other  travellers  may  be  directed  to  tliia  point 

Before  getting  into  the  beaten  path  beyond  Ex-zib,  we 
meet  with  nunioroua  herds  of  antelopes.  But  the  lahom-crs 
are  swarming  iu  the  fields ;  ttkcy  are  often  eonceoJed  by 
the  high  grass,  and  the  fear  of  sending  a  stray  buUet 
through  Olio  of  them  is  enough  to  make  ua  give  up  all 
temptation  to  sporting.  By  ttm  o'clock  we  halt  on  the 
bank  of  a  rivulet,  under  magnificent  orange  troeD, 
covered  with  flowerK  and  fniit  This  place  is  called 
Djesr-el-Meji-Aah,  on  account  of  a  paved  road  and 
a  bridge  crossing  the  marshy  ground  formed  by  the 
Kahr-cl-Mcjriah. 

Whilst  Maater  Constantine  is  preparing  our  breakfast 
and  complaining  that  wo  eat  too  much,  and  titat  wc 
have  appetites   which  he  never   bai:gaiutid  for,  judging 


A   DISHONEST   COOK. 


47 


9m  wKat  he  hnd  scon  us  do  in  that  way  in  Greece ; 
we  beat  the  coiiiitry,  wme  to  kill  birds,  othcni  U) 
Uotaaiso  or  look  for  iusecls.  Our  hunting  is  succcsaful. 
ui  every  department,  and  wc  return  on  hearing  the 
LiignnI  warning  us  that  break^t  ia  ready.  Whilst  we  have 
been  Vinlkiiig,  hnuest  Constaiitine  has  boon  at  biH  tricks 
again.  A  poor  devil  of  a  negro,  tenant  of  the  ground 
upon  which  we  have  halted,  has  corae  to  request  a 
bakhsliish  (present).  Maister  cook  lia^i  a^ked  this  mail  to 
sell  him  some  limes  and  oranges,  and  the  rc^e,  after 
having  paid  him  only  twenty  paras,  about  twelve  cents, 
for  forty  dozen  of  tho  fruit,  abuses  tlie  vendor  for  being 
dissatisfied  with  the  price.  On  our  return  wo  gave 
seme  pia^ftres  to  the  negro,  and  already  foresee  that  wc 
shall  not  keep  M.  Constantine  very  long  in  our  sorvico. 
We  are  content  to  bo  robbed  by  him  ourselves ;  but 
to  allow  him  to  pillage  otlicr  people  in  our  names,  Ls 
more  than  we  bargained  for  or  intend  to  put  up  with 
quietly. 

At  about  half-past  twelve  we  resume  our  nmri-li.  The 
road  improves,  and  it  is  plain  we  are  approaching  a  more 
unportant  town  than  any  we  have  passed  through  on  the 
foregoing  days.  Some  very  pretty  houses,  with  real 
gardens,  appear  to  tlie  left  of  the  road.  One  of  these  is 
pointe<i  out  to  us  as  having  been  fonuorly  the  residence  of 
Abdatta  Pacha.  A  httle  further  on  we  pass  through  tlie 
hamlet  of  Bakadjolu  To  our  left,  and  running  parallel  to 
tlie  road,  a  very  fine  aqueduct  of  modei'n  sti-uctiu-e,  supplies 
the  inhabitants  of  Akka  with  water.  This  was  erected  by 
the  cniel  Djezzar  Pacha,  surnamed  the  Butcher  for  his 
atrocities. 

Akka  lies  before  us.    After  having  passed  under  one 


48 


ST.  JIA5   D'aCU. 


Af  tlw  arcbes  of  the  aqueduct,  tbo  road  inclines  a  little 
westward,  and  at  ludf-past  tliree  wo  enter  Sl  Jean  d'Acro 
bj  a  hand-some  gate  of  European  arcliitecture.  The  forti- 
fications, though  in  bod  repair,  still  show  thai  they  are  the 
woHe  of  competent  engineos. 

We  fix  our  quarters  in  the  FrancLican  convent,  where 
we  arc  received  by  the  good  fathers  with  the  most  cordial 
hospitaUtj.  One  of  them  takes  us  over  the  oonvcnl,  and 
shows  from  the  terrace  the  still  visible  efTects  of  the  bora- 
bardmcnt  of  1840.  More  than  ten  jearti  have  elapsed 
aiuce  the  town  was  riddled  with  ishot  and  sliell  by  the 
Bnglifih  Hcet,  and  everytliiug  is  at  this  moment  in  tbo 
same  condition  as  when  the  bombardment  ended. 

The  Gulf  of  Acre  presents  a  magnificent  prospect,  with 
the  town  in  the  foreground.  Mount  Carmel  separated  fit)m 
it  by  a  beautiful  ahcet  of  clear  blue  water,  and  a  sea  of 
iliiuling  light  stretcliing  out  to  tLo  horizon.  To  the  left 
a  fertile  pliiiii  is  Wuncleid  at  the  distance  of  two  leagues  by 
((r«Mi  bill«,  surmounted  by  handsome  village.^.  'WTiilst  we 
am  giuing  at  this  splendid  panorama  the  sun  goe^  down 
and  the  fi-osh  night  air  sets  in  ;  we  return  to  the  conrent, 
tUnc^  and  hasten  to  our  beds ;  to-morrow  we  have  a  long 
day's  nvarch  before  us  to  reach  Namroth,  and  we  must 
preparo  for  it  by  a  good  night's  rest,  which  we  are  much 
Ui  need  of  after  the  heat  we  have  endured  all  day. 

Let  us  now  pause  to  inquire  if  wo  caji  make  out  the 
wcieut  names  of  the  places  whore  we  have  fallen  iu  with 
tiuus,  on  the  way  between  Bcyrout  and  Akka.  Certainly 
(bo  queatioH  is  well  worth  examining  ;  but  I  will  endeavour 
t>t  hv  brief,  though  without  neglecting  any  evidence  tending 
(.<  :),!..«  lighten  Uie  subject.  The  aucicut  geographical 
..K^  which  may  be  referred  to  in  this  discussion, 


ITINERARY    FROM    BEYliOtIT   TO   AKKA. 


49 


are  the  writings  of  Scjlax,  Pliny,  Dioaysiiis  Pcriogctea, 
Priscian  and  Strabo,  tlie  Itinerary  of  Antoninus,  PeHtin- 
ger's  Talilc,  and  lastly,  tbe  (Pilt^riiu's)  Itineraj-y  fruni 
Bordeaux  to  Jerusalem.  Let  us  compare  the  gcograpliical 
informaUou  derived  from  tliese  authors,  with  the  modern 
names  which  wo  have  ourselves  verified  ou  the  road;  and 
when  we  hare  drawn  up  a  Comparative  Table,  let  us  discuss 
each  separate  locality,  place  after  place.  By  proceeding 
in  this  nuiiuier  wo  shall  succeed,  I  hope,  in  solving  a  curious 
problem,  wluch  has  been  often,  though  imsucccsafully 
studied;  or  at  all  events,  in  correcting  some  erroneoiia 
assertions  with  respect  to  mistakeD  identities,  proposed 
and  admitted  without  sufficient  examination. 

We  now  propose  to  follow  the  present  Itineraiy  from 
IJcyrout  to  Akka,  proceeding  along  the  coast  bom  north 
to  south,  and  to  review  succcs^vcly  each  luuno  as  we 
find  it 

BETBODT. 

The  modem  Beyront  is  evidently  the  B.jpwos  vSKk  of 
Scylax,  the  Colonia  Felix  Julia  Ueryttis  of  Pliny,  the 
Bijpw-a*  of  Strabo,  the  Borilo  of  Atitonint-'s  Itinerary,  the 
Beritho  of  Peutinger's  Table,  and  lastly  the  Civitas  Ilirito 
of  the  Bordeaux  Itinorarv. 

The  colonial  medals  with  the  legend  COL.  BER.  are  still 
found  in  BByrout,  though  they  hiiv«  become  rather  scarce; 
I  .and  the  ruins  which  extend  over  the  coast,  from  the  south 

Je  of  the  present  harbour  down  to  Itaz-Beyrout,  and 
eastward  to  a  great  distance  from  the  shore,  show  that  tlio 
must  formerly  have  been  one  of  great  importance. 

The  beach  is  entirely  covered  with  broken  shafts  of 
coliimns  constantly  beaten  by  the  siirgo  ;  the  mole  itself 
la  madt;  up  of  similar  fragments,  and  three  fine  pillars  arc 


TO*.  L 


50 


ITlHEltAHir   FBOM   BBTEOUT   TO   AKBLA- 


BKtBOITT.— SERYTUS. 


Still  Standing  in  a  private  garden,  close  to  the  Seraglio 
gate ;  mosaics,  imperfectly  concealed  by  the  rubbish,  are 
found  in  several  places ;  but  all  these  ruins  ore  to  be  met 
with  onh/  to  the  east  and  south  of  tho  harbour,  which 
occupies  the  northern  extremity  of  the  motlern,  as  it  did 
likewise  of  the  ancient  town.  This  remark  will  enable  us 
to  decide  at  once  a  very  curious  geographical  question. 

The  text  of  Scylax,  re-produced  by  Ueland,  mentions 
with  regard  to  Bcyrout.  iiT„>yro»  irdxis  mi  AipiV  Bopu<ot; 
the  same  text  published  by  Gail,  mentions  B<jpuro»  ir^ie 
iMiJ  Ayujr,  Boptflr ;  but  here  the  two  hurt  words  are  sepa- 
rated by  a  comma ;  and  tliinlly,  in  the  collection  of  ancient 
itineraries,  put  together  by  the  Marquis  do  Fortia,  and 
published  by  Miller,  this  comma  of  Ciail  has  been  retained, 
and  the  table  of  the  Periplus  of  Scylax  has  been  made 
out  thus : 

as  if  there  were  two  distinct  places  to  be  noted.  Saumaiao, 
witi)  his  usual  s^acity,  had  proposed  to  correct  Dopuwc 
into  Roptiviis,  and  Ueland  had  accepted  that  emendation. 
For  my  part,  liaving  thoroughly  stiKlicd  the  ground,  I 
cannot  entertain  the  slightest  doubt  uf  the  nccc-ssity  of  the 
correction.  The  harbour  of  Beyrout  was  on  the  northern 
ade  of  the  town;  there  is  no  indication  whaterer,  any- 
where, of  any  town  with  a  name  offering  the  eUghteat 
analogy  with  the  word  Bu^iwu :  it  is  therefore  deci<ledly 
hipm-oi  tliat  we  nmst  read,  translating  the  abovc-mculioned 
passaj^e  of  the  Periphts  as  follows  ;  "  the  to\vn  of  Bcyrout 

with  its  harbour  to  tlio  nortliward" 

N  s 


52 


ITISKBAKY   PBO¥   BETEOUt  TO   ARKA. 


KHAN-EL'KUALDAH. 

At  about  the  third  part  of  tlie  distance,  by  t)ic  beotcu 
road,  ri-oiii  Bcyrout  to  Sajdab,  arc  found  some  niiiui,  and 
au  imuiCDse  necropoHfl  cut  out  of  the  flink  of  the  fint 
spur  of  Mount  Libanus.  On  tJio  rei^'  site  of  these  ruiusia 
a  klian  (or  wirftvausuni)  called  Kban-ci-KlialiUli.  There, 
witliout  any  possible  doubt>  lias  existed  nil  ancient  town  of 
80ine  iniportiinco  ;  for  the  sarcophagi  in  this  necropolis 
arc  to  be  numbered  by  hundreds.  But  let  us  hasten  to 
add  that  the  very  form  of  these  sai-cophagi  of  Grsco- 
Koinan  slnicture,  shows  that  tliey  are  posterior  to  tho 
ex(!avationa  of  the  Fhwuician  nccrO|tolLscs ;  for  instance,  to 
the  necropolis  of  Adlonn,  of  which  proper  notice  will  be 
taken  by  and  by.  At  K)-Khjildah  I  hare  not  obsen'od 
a  single  funeral  chamber  of  Phcenician  ongiu  ;  juid  accord- 
ingly we  do  not  find  in  the  comparatively  ancient  geo- 
graphers any  mention  of  a  town  which  could  be  identified 
■with  El-Kaldah.  We  must  go  back  to  the  year  of  our 
Lord  333,  when  the  Itinerary  from  Bonleaux  to  Jerunalem 
was  written,  to  find  at  a  distance  of  twelve  Roman  miles 
from  Ci vitas  Birito,  a  station  for  relay  horses  called  Afuiafio 
Hddua.  Between  Heldua  and  the  modem  form  of  EI- 
Khaldah,  the  difference  in  sound  is  not  so  great,  but  that 
both  might  easily  be  made  to  apply  to  tlic  same  place,  as 
Poc<M;ko  lias  first  suggested.  But  here  a  difiiciilty  occui-s  : 
the  Itinerary  mentions  a  distance  of  twelve  miles  from  Birito 
to  Heldua,  rihI  only  four  miles  from  Ileldua  to  another 
relay  station,  Mutatio  Porphyrion  ;  tliat  is,  to  Naby 
Yoimfes,  aa  we  shall  sliortly  prove.  The  learned  Dr. 
Itobinaon  has  imagined  that  the  two  numbers  referring  to 
Heldua  and  Porphyrion  must  have  been  inverted  by, the 


1^ 


.     TKE  mVEU   DAMODH. — TAMTBAS.  S3 

error  of  tt  copyist,  and  we  may  safety  coiicluJo  that  li© 
has  takcu  a  con'cct  vicv  of  the  case.  Bc^des,  vie  shall 
see  presently,  how  oflen  the  distances  mentioned  in  the 
Itinerary  are  incorrectly  given. 

NAnR-ED-DAHOPB. 

Between  the  Khan-el-Rlialdah  and  the  Klian-on-Naby- 
Yotnii^s,  tlio  road  crosses  tJie  Nalir-ed-I)atiioiir.  Strabo 
places  precisely  at  the  very  same  spot  the  river  Taniyras. 
"We  therefore  read  in  his  book  :  Mtro  hi  Bf/wTrfi*  i/m  Stftiiv 
Sffw  tt>  TtrpaKotrloit  vra&um  ittTo^ii  8i  A  Tai^vpas  irorajio*  Kol 
itf  ToB  'AukAijitiou  'AAu-os  Ka\  A#djT{i)j'  irdXii.  As  the  river 
Damour  is  precisely  half-way  between  Berytiw  and  Sidon  ; 
as  also  the  niodurn  iiiune  Bamour  retains  enough  of  the 
primitive  form,  which  Strabo  has  expressed  by  the  word 
Tamyras,  there  can  be  no  doubt  as  to  the  identity  of  these 
two  names  ;  and  tJtrabo's  informatioti  with  regard  to  the 
geographical  position  of  tlic  Tainypaa  was  perfectly  correct 
We  stnill  now  sec  tliat  he  is  not  equally  so  wlicn  he  speaks 

of  AfiVrwi'  ~nAii. 

KHAN-BN-NABT-Y0USE8. 

At  Ifaby  Yomiiia  arc  found  some  fragments  and  some 
fine  shafU  of  columns  lying  iti  the  hamlet  behind  tbo 
khan.  These  relics  arc  sufficient  to  justify  the  opinion 
that  an  ancient  town  existed  in  this  place.  But  what  waa 
that  town?  Lei  us  consult  the  ancient  geographers. 
Scylax  places  after  Berytus  nop<pvpiaiv  noKis.  The  Itine- 
rarj-  from  Bordeaux  to  Jerusalem  mentions,  as  eight  miles 
distant  before  coming  to  Sidon,  a  relay  station  colled 
lluUitio  I'orphyrion.  No  other  geogi'iiplier  speaks  of 
Porphyrton  ;   but  Strabo  places  in  this  very  spot  At6im»v 


j4  ITL!(EBAKT   FEOM   BBYBOUT  TO   AKKA. 

wlus,  whilst  FUd}'  speaks  of  Lcontos  Oppidum  as  beiiig  to 
tfati  north  of  Berytus,  and  between  this  town  and  the  river 
Lycus  (the  Nahr-el-Kelb  of  the  present  day)  ;  and  Sejlajc 
pW-es  A«tuTiui'  suXis  beyond  Sidon.  The  two  concordant 
testimonies  of  ScyLix  and  of  the  Pilgrim  from  Bordeaux  are 
quite  sufficient,  and  nearly  all  travellers,  down  to  the  pre- 
sent ilay,  have  admitted,  as  I  do,  that  Khan-en-Naby- 
Yyuui«  oci'uiiies  the  exact  site  of  Porphyrion.  A  forest 
of  tamariiik  trees,  several  hundred  years  old,  surrounds  the 
luodvru  khan,  and  one  might  almost  take  these  trees  for 
llic  dt'tfLViidHiits  of  those  which  formed  in  days  of  yore  the 
sBcrvd  torwdt  of  ^■Kaculapius.  It,  therefore,  seems  rational 
i'ltuiigh  ti>  ailmit  that  Strabo  has  been  led  into  an  error, 
luul  tlutt,  (.'oufounding  rurphyrioii  Avith  Leonton,  he  has 
plftv-ytl  thii  Olio  iiistcml  of  the  other  between  the  Tamyi-as 
»ii\l  Sidoi). 

HAHH-EL-AOUALY. 

Within  sijiht  of  Saydah,  wo  cross  a  pretty  river,  now 
vjUUnt  Uio  Nahr-el-Aoualy.  This  river  can  bo  no  other 
ih;ut  tho  lUwtrtnms,  which  we  find  mentioned  in  tho  fot- 
U»Aiti^  (ittiviagoM : 

Ktd  SiSoca  aii0ffi6(iT<rav 

\MOnir>}»  X'*p'**^<'s  itp'  MaiTin  Boor/itjyoro. 

l'hv>  pwm  of  Dionysius  the  Periegete  *  has  been  trans- 
\,vN>  mu»  Latin  verso  by  Rufus  Fastus  Avienus.  The 
■\fc!**.si^  wrrosj«ouding  to  the  one  I  liave  just  given  is  as 

Ki  Jcluii(u<i  l&raa ;  ul)i  latwna  Bgmms  Kmajnu 
Cn^tu  irrigui  Bostnnua  Jugeni  Gndit. 

■  Towanla  the  j-e«  flia  or  UU  n.i. 


SAYDAH. — SIDOCr. 


S8 


And  lastly  Priscian  tratii^lntotl  it  as  follows  : 

•        .        I        SSdotiai)iia  pulrlinuii 

<l/mm  juitk  Gqnido  Boalronu*  fut^ta  ouitiL 

),  in  this  case  again,  it  is  beyond  a  doubt  that  tho 
HoHtreinis  of  Dionysiiis  the  Pcricgctc,  of  Fosttw  Avienus 
and  of  PrisCLin,  is  no  other  thau  tho  Nahr-el-Aoualy  of 
our  days  ;  which  has  prohahly  received  its  prcsout  name 
trom  Home  Jllussuhuau  chujicl  near  which  it  flows. 


SATDAn. 

This  is  undoubtedly  the  liiliv  v6\n  Kid  ^(r(j)f  K\wis  of 
ScyUii,  the  Sidon  of  I*liny,  the  S^aii-  of  Strabo,  who  places 
it  at  four  hundred  stadia  from  lierytus,  tlie  Sidona  of 
Antonine's  Itinerary,  the  Sydonc  of  Pcutiugcr's  Table, 
and,  Ustly,  the  Civitas  Sidona  of  tho  Pilgrim  from  Jior- 
dcatix.  It  would  bo  ([tiite  useless  to  argue  this  identity, 
which  proves  it^lf.  However,  I  tliink  it  may  be  useftil  to 
compare  the  distances  from  Berytus  to  Sidon,  according  to 
tlio  different  statementu  of  the  ancient  itineraries  which 
wo  possess.  Strabo  says  that  Sidon  is  distant  from 
Berytus  four  hundred  stadia  ;  Antoniac's  Itinerary  niakca 
it  XXX.  miles  ;  Poutingor's  Table  only  xxix, ;  and,  lastly, 
the  Itinerary  from  Bordeaux  to  Jerusalem  mentions  xii, 
miles  from  Berytus  to  Ilcldua  ;  tin.  miles  from  Heldiia  to 
Pcrphyrion,  and  viii.  inilc;s  fruiu  I'urphyrion  to  Saydali. 
The  total  of  these  three  last  being  only  four-and-twcuty 
miles,  it  is  evident  that  one  at  least  of  the  distances  is 
incorrect.  It  i»  plain,  besides,  that  there  is  no  coincidence 
between  tlie  three  above-mentioned  itineraries.  That  of 
Antonine  and  Peiitinger's  Table,  differing  only  hy  a  single 
unit,  mtgiit  easily  be  made  to  correspond  citlier  by  taking 


56 


ITINEBART   FTtOM   BBTBOUT  TO   AKKA. 


away  tlic  figure  i.  intcrcalatcJ  between  tlie  two  last  S.  of 
the  number  in  Pentmger's  Table,  or  by  intercalating  this 
same  unit  in  tl>c  aaine  place  of  the  number  in  Antonine's 
Itinerary.  As  to  the  three  numbers  in  the  Bordeaux 
Itinerary,  I  dare  not  take  upon  inyh'elf  to  cluinge  tJieni  m 
as  to  make  tlie  total  correspond  witli  the  others ;  and  I 
intend  only  to  observe  that  the  first  appears  to  be  rather 
too  high,  the  second  a  great  deal  too  low,  and  the  tliird 
nearly  correct.  Thus,  in  allowing  ten  miles  only  from 
Berytus  to  Ileldua,  twelve  from  Ileldua  to  Porpliyrion, 
and,  lastly,  eight  from  Porphyrioii  to  Sidona,  we  accord 
exactly  with  the  thirty  miles  of  Antonine's  Itinerary.  But  I 
hasten  to  repeat  that  I  lay  little  stress  on  these  corrections 
in  numbers  which  any  one  can  alter  according  to  his  own 
idea ;  I  merely  want  to  prove  that  those  numbers,  which 
I  have  just  examined,  arc  wrong,  and  cannot  be  accepted. 

There  still  remains  another  point  to  adjust  before 
leaving  Saydah.  The  text  of  Scylax,  reproduced  by 
ICcknd,  mentions  ^t&unr  nwAiv  nal  \t^Li|l'  i[Afi70( ;  this  last 
word  is  omitted  in  Miller's  edition.  Keland  has  trans- 
lated this  passage  in  the  following  nuumor :  "  Sidon 
m-bs  cum  portu  clauso."  But  then  he  has  substituted, 
instead  of  tlie  word  icA<trov,  the  word  nAeioTon,  whici) 
means  "closed."  A&  the  harbour  of  Sidon  was  really 
closed  in  by  a  mole,  the  remains  of  which  aro  still 
plainly  visible,  Ueland'a  correction  seems  to  me  to  be 
perfectly  well  founded,  and  I  have  no  hesitation  in 
adopting  it. 

Let  us  now  resume  the  second  part  of  our  itinerary 
aJong  the  Phuiuician  coast,  I  mean  that  portion  which 
lies  between  Kidon  and  Tyi-c. 


SARPRNT. — ZAUEPiUTK.— 8AREPTA. 


67 


SARFENT. 

The  first  nuHed  town  which  you  meet  after  leaving 
Saydah  is  Sarfent,  tlio  Zarophftth  of  the  Holy  Scriptures, 
wliich  Pliny  mentions  thus ;  "  Sarcpta  ct  Ornitlion 
op])i<Ift,"  between  Sidoii  and  Tyre.  It  is  also  mentioned 
ill  tlie  Pcriplua  of  Scylax,  the  text  of  which  I  must  quote 
to  support  my  argument. 

Here  it  is  accordiug  to  Rcland  ; — ■ 

Atoimav  itdXttoi-  itixfi^  'Oprf^uf  nuAcwir  Tvpiuiv  no'Xis  ^ufia.  ... 
Etra  &XXi)  tsCKh-  Tdiioi kifida  ix.ovua  ivroi  rtixu^f • 

The  text  of  ttie  same  passage,  published  by  Gail,  is 
as  follows : — 

Sidoif  noAti  Ka\  Xtfirft',  Opv(6iup  iro'Ats  Siiapltov.  'Airo  At6im»/ 
niKtaii,  fi(Xf"  'Opvi6aiv  TtoKnof.  .  .  .  Tvpiia;>  noAit  Sapanra^  d\Ai] 
■xaKii  TiifMs  Xi^Uva  txpvaa  iml^t  rcixovv. 

From  this  it  appears  that  Gail  adopts  the  correc- 
tiouB  proposed  by  Saumaisc,  Vossius,  and  lleland,  who 

restore  tioKtuis   fcr    voXtun:    and      Idpama    for    v,;pa      ura. 

These  con-ections  are  indeed  indispensable.  But  are 
they  sufficient  to  umke  the  text  intelligible  when  studied 
and  compared  with  the  actiuil  localities  1  Certainly 
not.  First,  this  text,  if  it  were  to  remain  such  as  it  is, 
would  place  Sarepta,  or  Sarfcnt,  between  Ornithoii  and 
Leonton,  which  seems  to  me  quite  impossible,  con- 
sidering that,  'between  Saydah  and  Sarfent  there  arc 
no  ruins  of  any  town  wliataocTcr.  Are  wo  tlieo  to 
onderstand  by  Afo'tTiui/  WAit  the  City  of  the  Lions  1  I 
doubt  this  very  mudi,  the  mora  so  as  Pliny  calls  it 
I^ontos  Oppidum,  or  Leontopolis.  Leonton  was  pro- 
bably the  name  of  the  entire  <]istrict,  as  Porphyrion  and 


58 


ITIKERAST    raOM    DKYROl-T  TO  iRKA. 


Oraitlion  were  the  names  of  two  other  PhcrnicUn  loca- 
lities. Is  it  not  much  more  natural  to  fluitpose  that 
tho  name  Looiitou  was  dorircd  from  the  river  Lcoutcs. 
in  the  Ticinity  of  which  it  would  then  he  ndvisahle  to  look 
for   Looiiton  ?     I    have   no  hesitation   in  believing  tliis. 

The  Leontcs  was  the  Nahr-cI-Kaamieh  of  the  present 
day  ;  for  ihis  same  river  is  also  called  Nahr  Lantanch,  or 
Nalir  Lautch  ;  and  in  this  mudorii  ajipellatioii  we  find 
tho  very  recognisable  transmission  of  tlie  original  name. 
On  the  south  bank  of  the  Nahr-el-Kasraieh  is  situated  the 
Khan-el- Kasmich,  a  large  caravausera,  the  walls  of  which 
contain  numerous  fragments  of  ancient  buildings,  a  very 
conclusive  sign  that  some  ancient  city  has  existed  liefore 
on  this  same  spot.  I  tlicrcforc  venture  to  place  there  the 
.\tivTiav  wciXit  of  Scylax,  the  Leontopolis  which  Strabo  fixes 
very  unadvisedly  on  the  soijth  bank  of  the  Tamyras,  or 
Damour,  and  the  Leontoa  Oppidum  wliich  Pliny,  slill 
more  erroneously,  throws  back  to  the  north  of  Uerytus, 
between  that  town  and  the  Lycus, 

According  to  Gail,  there  is  something  wanting  between 
the  words  'OpviStov  -aoktiat  and  the  other  words,  Tvpiuv  voKk 
Sif^uffTd;  and  this  Icaracd  Hellenist  declai-es  that  ho  is 
inclmod  to  oonsider  as  a  foreign  interpolation  into  tho 
original  text  of  Scylax  all  this  portion  of  the  phrase : 
'Aso    \i6nT0iv  TioXtait,   K^XP'  'OpviOov  itaKtio\  .  .  .  Tvpuof  S'u'Atc 

SopoffTB.  And,  hislly,  Reland,  who  has  good  reason  to  be 
suq>ri3od  at  the  strange  construction  of  this  phrase, 
appends  to  it  tho  following  commentary  (pt  431, 
Doto  4)  : — "  lUud  (if  S  et.  it^xp^  videtur  accum  poslulare 
vXcii';  rel  simile  quid,  uti  <naiia,  et  nee  anteil  mcminic 
Leontopolis."  It  appears  that  all  those  who  have 
^x^iined  the  text  of  this  passage  of  Scylax  have  not  been 


KAHB-BL-KASMJEH. — OUSITHON. 


»9 


more  fortuiiiitc  than  myself  iu  makiiig  out  its  real  stgnifi- 
cfttioQ.  What  1  consiiUtr  vary  probable  in,  tliat  Gai]  was 
right  iQ  findiog  au  iutcrpolatiou  in  tbia  uufiuislied  plirasc. 
Indeed,  were  we  to  accept  the  punctuation  of  Gail's 
edition,  there  would  be  threo  locahties  moiitioiicd  succea- 
sively  in  a  dii-eciiou  from  south  to  norlh,  besides  still 
loaving  something  wanting  between  ttie  designations  of 
Oniithou  and  Sarcjita  ;  whilst  the  imvaryiiig  pnigress  of 
tbe  author  of  the  Penplus  is  iu  u  diruclioD  &011)  north  to 
south.  Terhaps  it  might  be  possible  to  cbauge  the  piinc- 
tuatioa  of  the  whole  phrase  in  the  following  manner, 
which  would  be  allowable  without  supposing  any  omission, 
as  b  coiijcctuFed  by  Gail,  but  not  hy  Itclnud.  But  then 
it  would  bo  ncccHsiiry  to  change  lish  into  «^'  qs,  and  tbe 
word  iroA««s.  which  conies  after  it,  into  !r»\is  :— 

StWTiav  no'Ai;  *  /i^xp'  'Of't'^o"'  TniAcwr,  Tt'^(wi>  •sokii  Sifpairra. 
This  means,  "  The  town  of  Sidon  with  a  closed  harbour  ; 
Oniithon,  a  town  of  the  Sidonians,  after  which  the  town 
of  Lconton ;  before  Ornithon,  Sarapta,  a  town  of  the 
TjTians." 

Of  course,  I  give  this  correction  in  Greek  of  rather 
Inferior  tiuality,  for  what  it  may  be  worth  ;  I  mean  that 
I  scarcely  insist  upon  it,  though  it  has  been  suggested  to 
me  by  an  ins[)Cctiou  of  the  localities.  Be  that  as  it  may, 
at  all  events,  the  ruins  at  present  called  Sarfciit  arc 
nnqiiestionahly  tliose  of  the  Zarcphath  of  the  Scriptures, 
of  the  Sarapta  of  Soylax.  and  of  the  SareplA  of  I'liny, 
It  may  be  observed,  however,  that  Pliny,  who  iu  his 
enumeratioti  of  the  towns  of  the  Photniciaa  coast, 
proceed*  from  south  to  north,  mentions  Ornithon  after 
Saj-cpta,  which  seems  to  agree  with  the  intricate  paasago 


60 


ITIHEHABY  F&OH  BETUOUT  TO   AKKA. 


of  the  Periplus.  But  were  we  inclined  to  accept  the 
mcnning  which  sociiis  to  result  from  tho  (wnibiiiation 
of  the  texts  of  Plioy  and  Scylax,  there  would  still  remain 
two  great  objections.  Where  are  we  to  find  between 
Hayduh  and  Sarfcnt  tho  siiuatioa  of  an  ancient  town  to 
he  identified  with  Ornithou  ?  And  as  a  greater  difficulty 
and  objection  still,  whore  are  we  to  find  to  the  north  of 
Sart'itta,  not  the  town  of  Oniithon  as  mentioned  bj 
I'liuy,  but  the  town  of  Leoiiton  t  Tho  coincidence  of  the 
two  authors  is  then  entirely  factitious  ;  and  as  there  does 
not  exist  in  reality  any  ancient  town  between  Baydali  and 
Sarfcnt  it  is  absolutely  necessary  to  seek  elsewhere  for  tho 
two  cities  of  Ornithon  and  Leonton,  which  I  think  must 
bo  placed  in  other  lociUities.  But  I  Hhalt  return  to 
them  shortly. 

KAJSAHIKH. 

At  a  very  little  distance  to  the  south  of  Sarfent  is  a 
considerable  rising  ground,  covered  over  with  ruins, 
and  named  by  the  Arabs  Kaisarieh.  This  circuitistnncie 
makes  it  quite  certain  that  there  has  existed  in  this 
()Ih<;c  in  days  of  yore  a  town  called  Ca;sarea ;  but  no 
mention  of  it  that  I  ^m  acquainted  with,  is  anywhere  to 
be  found  in  tlie  ancient  authors. 


ADLODN. 

We  have  now  reached  a  very  important  locality, 
furnished  witli  an  immense  necropolis  which  covers  the 
side  of  an  cxtensivq  hill ;  a  necropolis  quite  different 
from  that  of  El-Khaldah.  Here  we  have  no  sarco- 
phagi of  recent  structure,  formed  out  of  fragments  of 
loose  rocks,  but  sepulchral  chambers  excavated  in  the 


MUTATIO  AD  KOSUH. — A»W)UN. 


et 


solid  rock  itself,  similar  to  those  of  the  ancient  nccro- 
poHs  of  Jerusaloni.  It  then  becomes  important  to  find 
out  what  may  Iiave  been  the  Fhcoiuciau  town  to  which 
Adioiin  has  succeeded. 

Tho  Itinerary  from  Bordeaux  to  Jerusalem  mentions 
but  one  relay  station  between  Sidon  and  Tyre.  This  is 
the  Mutatio  nd  Noiiiim.  A  name  hke  tliia  was  so  sig- 
nificant tluU  one  would  think  no  copyist  couid  have 
made  a  mistake  as  to  the  number  of  miles  sepiirating 
this  place  from  Saydah.  It  was  situated  at  the  ninth 
mileattouc,  ad  Nonum  milUariiuu ;  and  tlie  number  of 
miles  mentioned  by  the  Bordeaux  Pilgrim  is  only  iiu, 
A  mistake  of  thiii  kind  requires  no  correction.  As  to 
the  figures  inscribed  on  the  milestones  from  Sidon  to 
Tyre,  there  can  be  no  doubt  they  began  with  No.  1  iu 
starting  from  Saydah;  for  I  havo  found  still  lying  OD 
the  road-side  two  fine  granite  milestones,  tlic  first  of 
which,  a  little  more  tlrnn  two  thousand  yards  from 
Saydah,  bears  the  cypher  u.  It  is  therefore  clear  that 
the  name  "  Ad  Konum  "  meant  a  pkcc  situated  at  the 
nintli  miltititonc,  starting  from  Saydah,  on  tlie  way  to 
Tyre.  Ad  Nonum  was  positively  in  the  year  333  tlio 
name  of  that  locality,  and  this  namo  the  Arabs  Uavo 
converted  into  Adiouu.  With  the  natives  of  Syria,  lam 
and  noun  are  easily  confounded ;  nearly  all  pronounce, 
for  instance,  Ismayn  for  Ismayl,  and  by  an  inverse  altera- 
tion. Ad  Nonum,  without  much  difficulty,  changes  into 
Adiouu. 

But  it  B  not  a  mere  relay  station,  a  Mutatio  of  the 
fourth  century,  which  can  have  produced  the  magnificent" 
necropolis  of  Adiouu.  There  must,  I  insist  upon  it.,  havo 
existed  in  this  place  a  flourishing  Piuunician  city.      That 


62 


ITI^IEEtAST    FROSi    HBTItOUT  TO   AKKA. 


cfty.  in  my  opinion,  wns  Ontitbon  ;  and  here  follows  what 
Strjibo  tcllii  us  of  its  situation. 

Ai(')((t  H  rift  Si^drot  >j  Ttfpof  01/  iiKtunis  t&v  StaicooW  irraS^v. 

T^  ToroMor  JfiV'-  "  Tyre  is  not  more  tlian  rwo  hundred 
sUdia  diiitajit  from  Sidoii.  BotwRcn  these  two  cities  is 
the  town  called  Oniithon.  After  that,  near  Tyre,  a  river 
empties  itself  into  the  sea." 

Froni  the  above  quotation  it  appears  Uiat  Omitlion  was 
situated  about  half-way  on  the  roml  from  Sidoii  to  Tyro, 
and  before  the  riyer  which,  near  Tyre,  empties  itself  into 
the  aoa.  This  river  is,  and  can  be  no  other  than  the 
Leontis.  or  Nahr-el-Kasmich.  Oriiithon  was  a  more 
considerable  town  than  Sarepta,  since  Strabo  mentions 
ttic  first  without  alluding  to  the  second.  AH  these  indi- 
catiooa  apply  admirably  to  Adloun.  Upon  the  rains 
of  the  Phtenician  town  Oruilliou  has  jtrobably  been 
established  the  relay  station  Ad  Nonura,  so  called  when 
the  Phcenician  name  was  forgotten ;  and  thus  it  hapjiens 
that  we  tiud  the  relics  of  Oniithon  in  the  magnificent 
necropoUs,  and  the  traces  of  Ad  Nonum  in  the  modem 
name  of  Adloun. 

I  said  just  now  that  the  text  of  the  Itinerary  fi-om 
Bordeaux  to  Jerusalem  was  to  be  corrected  with  respect 
to  the  cypher  llil,  indicating  the  number  of  miles  between 
Saydah  and  the  place  called  Ad  Konum ;  as  this  place 
was  Qooessarily  situatx^d  at  the  ninth  mile  from  Sidon 
on  the  way  to  Tyre,  it  is  possible  to  guess  from  this 
that  a  still  grsTer  error  has  crept  into  the  text ;  for 
instance  we  read  after  the  word  Civitas  Sidona,  this 
phrase ;  "  lb  llelias  ad  viduam  ascendit  ct  petiit  sibi 
cibum."    Now  it  is  in  Sarcpta,  and  not  in  Sidon,  tliai 


LBOSTOPOLIS. 


•8 


the  holy  Scriptures  mcntiou  Uiia  historical  fact  as  having 
taken  place.  It  becomes  therefore  very  probable  that 
the  word  Sarcpta  has  boeii  omitted  with  the  cypher  v, 
which  had  beeu  correctly  attached  to  it :  the  existence 
of  this  cypher  would  then  make  equally  correct  tlie 
cypher  mi,  which  followH  the  name  of  Ad  Nimum  in 
the  priuted  tcxtii  of  the  Itinerary.  And  to  conclude, 
it  would  seem  tlmt  between  the  words  "  CiviCas  Sidona," 
and  the  following  passage  concerning  the  prophet 
Khjah,  a  restoration  ought  to  be  ituicrtud,  written  thus ; 
'Sarepta— V." 

NAilU-F.I/-KA8MIEH    AKD    KHAN-EL-KASHIKH. 

I  hare  already  observed  that  the  Nahr-el-Kasmich.  also 
called  the  Nahr-Uanteh,  throughout  its  course  in  CcbIo- 
syria,  between  the  Libanus  and  the  Anti-Libaniis,  in 
exactly  the  same  as  the  Leontes.  I  have  no  hesitation  in 
believing  that  the  ancient  locality,  signs  of  which  ^c 
very  distinctly  recognisable  at  the  Khan-cl-Ka^mioh,*  is 
positively  the  Leoutoupohs  of  ScyUx,  the  Leoutoa  Opi)iduiu 
of  rUny,  and  the  Leontopolis  of  Strabo. 

SODR. 

Sour  is  unquestiiinabty  the  iro'Atf  TifMs  \iiiii>a  Ixenxra 
ipTot  Tflxpvs  of  Scylax,  the  Tynis  of  PHny,  the  Tilpos  of 

■  JUaadral)  nontioat  b  hit  niimtir*,  tliU  botwoen  SorcjiU  vid  Tjra,  and  it 
llirco  houn^  dMUnco  IVom  tho  flnt-Dunarj  jiIeicp.  ho  Ml  in  with  a  lur^  wd  deep 
riv«r,  wUch  he  oUi  C>i)a«T.  H  u  oviileut  UmL  Ukuiidrftl  Liim  trivd  la  expnm 
)n  Biig^i»>»  ih*  Bniaa  whkJi  h«  liMnl  Uio  [mm)[Jo  tn  SjrU  pruiinunco.  RaUiul 
(paL  p.  !i>I )  nftra  litvlng  <\aaU)i  Uaiuidn>U,  vldi ;  "  Cotcsum  qoomu  Quimetr 
ildatiur,  Btis  bout  am  TJ/mtm  (quod  dodmii  Suvii  e*t  aeeuniiuiD  Stobosen) 
ooDTCDir*.  ivyl  Stnibo  Tunjrun  factt  loptniitrlnniiUorem  Sidonc^''  Sci^  if  tlis 
l»n>ri  RtAind  li»d  uot  nrj  atMnlircly  ex^uincd  tho  quotMni,  hevould  Imvo 
Wan  ounplatcly  1^1  nitfv  ^  ^"  disttHni  iiuni*  iiitroiJuvvd  b;  Hsuudrcll.  Thi* 
ptmea  ho«  nrj  iwpawiry  it  U  to  have  ^our  atr  well  occiutoinod  tii  tiiv  suuiiili* 
■>f  Um>  Arab  taa2a<>.if  yau  vufato  tnnl  with  mi;  pvolit  is  Sfria. 


M 


mNEBARY    PKiiM    BRYROUT   TO   AKKA. 


Strabo,  the  Tyro  of  AnLouiims's  Itinerary,  aud  of  Peu- 
tinger's  Tabic,  aod  llie  CiTitas  Tyro  of  the  Bordeaux 
Pilgrim.  Every  one  agi-ees  on  tliis  point,  and  it  would 
be  useless  to  prove  what  is  proi'cd  alicady. 

We  now  proceed  (as  wo  have  commenced  with  the  firat 
portion  of  our  route  between  Beyrout  and  Say<iali)  to 
compare  the  different  figures  of  the  distances  between 
Saydah  and  Sour,  as  given  by  the  ancient  geographers. 

According  to  Strabo,  Tyre  is  distant  two  hundred  stadia 
&om  Sidon  ;  Antouine's  Itinerary  and  Feutlnger's  Table 
Bgreo  in  reckoning  xxiii  miles  between  these  two  ex- 
treme points,  whilst  the  Itinerary  from  Bordeaux  to 
Jerusalem,  if  we  were  to  take  into  account  only  what 
lias  been  published  of  the  text,  M'ould  give  but  iiii+xii., 
that  is  XVI.  miles  only.  Let  us  examine  those  different 
figures.  The  number  in  Antouine's  Itinerary  is  exactly 
the  same  as  that  in  Feutinger's  Table ;  it  therefore 
appears  most  likely  that  this  is  tbe  con-ect  one  :  but  if  so, 
the  (listance  given  by  Strabo  is  erroneous  ;  for  if  there 
were,  according  to  this  author's  statement,  four  hundred 
stadia  from  Beyi'out  to  Saydah,  and  if  those  four  hundred 
stadia  were  only  equal  to  xxix.  or  xxx.  miles,  given  as  the 
distance  between  tlieso  two  cities  by  Autonine's  Itinerary 
and  by  Peutinger's  Table,  it  would  be  imposgible  to  admit 
that  the  two  hundred  stadia  given  by  Strabo  as  the 
distance  between  Sidon  aud  Tyre,  could  be  equal  to  the 
xsiT.  miles  which  the  two  above-mentioned  Itineraries 
make  out  as  the  distance  between  the  two  same  points. 
Let  us  examine  now  the  figures  of  the  Bordeaux 
ItincTary,  To  make  up  the  difference  between  the  total 
of  the  two  numbers  mentioned  in  this  Itinerary,  and  the 
XXIV.  mdcs,  which  appears  most  likely  to  bo  the  correct 


PALJUnHIR. 


fS 


one,  there  are  only  n-atiting  eight  units.  But  Oie  name 
Ad  Nonurn  of  itself  provides  us  at  once  with  a  well- 
cstabltslied,  anri  authentic  nnmher  of  ix.  mileft.  Then  it 
is  necessarily  [he  last  cypher  xir.,  given  as  the  distance 
between  the  Utiitatio  Ad  Nonum  and  Civitas  Tyro,  whidi 
is  deficients  It  uuglit  to  be  XV.  ;  and  if  we  obserre, 
that  it  wa-s  very  easy  for  an  awkward  copyist  to  separate 
the  two  strokes  of  the  v.,  the  second  sign  of  the  cypher 
here  mentioned,  we  find  that  in  that  case  wc  should 
fall  again  precisely  into  the  erroneous  cypher  xil.  which 
has  been  printed.  So  it  is  most  likely  the  cypher  XT. 
which  ought  to  be  substituted  for  the  cypher  xn..  and  we 
shall  liave  then  the  correct  total  ix  +  xv=:XXlv.  I  conse- 
quently propose  to  make  this  correction  in  the  text,  and  1 
feel  the  more  confident  in  <Ioing  so,  as  it  is  in  perfect 
accordanoo  with  the  real  distances. 


BAZ-BL-AYN   ASD  NAHR  RAZ-EL-AYN. 

Scylax.  after  having  mentioned  Tyre,  pursues  bis 
course  southward,  and  says :  lla\airvpat  -uAiv  ■oi  norofwt 
*i4  f«>i)i  fwl  Pliny  quotes  Falajtyrus  in  the  following 
phrase ;  Tyrus  quondam  insuU  ....  circuitns  xix. 
M.  passnttm  est,  intra  Palietyro  inclusi :  and  lastly, 
Strabo  is  stiil  nxore  explicit.  He  writes  thus :  Mo-i  a 
njj'  Tvpoi'  >j  BnAain/>os  iv  rpi'oKorro  <rtabiau--  StralJO,  in 
fats  onumcration  of  the  Phoinician  locahetis.  invariably 
proceeds  from  north  to  south  ;  consequently  Pah-etyrus 
was  situated  to  the  southward  of  Tyre,  according  to  the 
impUcit  statement  of  both  Scylax  and  Strabo,  and  about 
»  league  and  a  half  di.itant  from  the  metropolis.  But 
sach  being  the  case,  it  is  impussiblo  not  to  place  Pala>tyrus 

at  Ba2-ct-Ayn.    Here,  indeed,  are  still  to  be  seen  the 
voc  u  r 


Jfi   . 


ITISERART    FHOH    BETROL'T   TO   IKKA. 


&i]dent  wells  wliicti  tiavc  been  admired  by  all  successive 
trarellers,  and  ruins  which  attest  the  presence  of  aa 
ancient  town.  Besides,  at  Raz-el-Ayii,  tliere  is  a  river. 
a  very  inflignificant  one  it  is  true,  but  which,  nevertheless, 
bears  the  name  of  Nahr  Raz-cl-Ayn.  I  may  be  allowed 
to  consider  it  as  the  Toraiidi  whicli  Soyhix  mentions  as 
flowing  tJirougli  the  town  of  Palaityrus. 

Some  modem  writers  have  been  inclined  to  place 
PalsEitynis  on  the  site  of  Adloiin.  But  such  an  opinion 
caa  scarcely  be  accepted,  first,  because  Adioun  is  to  the 
north  of  Soar,  whilst  Palstyrus  stood  to  the  south  of 
Tyre  ;  and  besides  the  distance  is  too  great  from  f^our  to 
Adioun,  (witliout  taking  into  account  the  Leoutis  which 
divides  the  two  localities)  to  admit  of  Alexander's  having 
employed  the  ruins  of  Pala'tyrus,  in  the  works  he  con- 
structed for  the  reduction  of  Tyro ;  a  fact  attested  by 
Diodorus  Siciiliks.  Already  Relaiid,  with  his  usual 
sagacity,  has  placed  Pala;tyrus  at  Raz-el-Ayn ;  and  1 
merely  join  cordially  in  corroborating  his  opinion,  which, 
it  appears  to  mei,  cannot  he  seriously  contested. 


Ba-Cil£BRArEII. 

To  the  north,  and  a  few  hundred  yards  distant  from  the 
Raz-el"Abiadh,  are  some  considerable  ruins,  called  by  the 
Arabs,  Es-Chebrayeh.  Tliere  can  be  no  doubt  that  some 
ancient  city  has  existed  in  this  place.  But  wliat  the 
name  of  that  city  was,  I  am  completely  at  a  loss  to 
decide ;  not  having,  as  yet»  discovered  any  trace  of  it  in 
any  of  the  ancient  authors  I  have  had  the  opportunity  of 
consulting. 


RSHANDBHOOIT. — MOTHER   OP   ni.LAltS. 


87 


RAZ-EL-ABUDn. 

This  is  the  chaJk-Iiill  wliicli  Pliny  trails  Promoiitorimn 
Albiim.  The  modem  iiame  is  a.  literal  transktion  of  the 
aucittut  one. 

ESKANDBnoON. 

After  having  crossed  the  Raz-el-Abiadh,  you  fall  in  as 
you  come  down  to  the  beach,  with  the  ruins  called 
Eskanderoon  by  the  Arabs.  The  Itinerary  from  Bordeaux 
to  Jerusalem  is  the  only  work  in  which  this  place  is 
named.  After  the  mention  of  Tyre,  we  read  as  follows  : 
— Mutatio  Alcxandroschene,  M.  xii.,  from  which  it  appears 
that  tliis  relay  was  twelve  miles  distant  from  Tyre,  on  tlic 
road  to  Ptolemais,  or  St.  Jean  d'Acre.  'AlU^aiitpov  imiia^ 
rocana  Alexander's  tent  Is  it  an  ciicampnieut  of  the 
Macedonian  hero  which  has  given  its  name  to  tho  town 
built  on  tho  same  spot  1  The  supposition  ia  very  pro- 
bable. 

OUM-EL-AAMID. 

Following  the  old  Roman  road,  you  perceive  upon  tho 
heights  lo  the  left,  distant  only  a  few  furlong-s  fi-om  Eskan- 
deroon, some  shafts  of  columns  riiuug  above  the  high 
thorny  briars.  If  in  spite  of  the  obstinate  resistance  of 
your  moukris  and  dragoman,  who  protest  there  is  notliing 
to  be  seen  in  the  place  (although  the  modern  name  of 
Omm-cl-Aamid,  or  the  Mother  of  Pillars,  gives  a  very 
different  promise)  you  ascend  the  ridgea  that  lead  to  tho 
columns,  you  will  bo  amply  repaid  for  your  trouble  by 
tlie  sight  of  immense  ruins  of  a  very  remote  period,  which 
alone  deserve  an  investigation  of  many  days.  But  is  it 
possible  to  assign  any  historical  name  to  this  city  which 


R8  ITINERARY    FROM    BEYROUT    TO    AKKA. 

covers  such  an  extensive  surface  1  I  regret  to  say,  no. 
I  liave  vainly  studied  and  souglit  in  the  historians  and 
geographers  of  old  for  some  indication  of  this  important 
phice.  I  have  found  none  whatever ;  others  may,  per- 
haps, be  more  fortunate,  and  I  shall  rejoice  to  bear  of 
their  success. 

AEHZIB    OR    ES-ZIB. 

I  give  purposely  these  two  pronunciations  of  the  same 
word,  because  both  are  indifferently  used  by  the  Arabs. 
The  second,  however,  I  take  for  an  alteration.  Akhzib 
IB  a  rising-ground  overhanging  the  Roman  road,  and 
close  to  tho  sea-shore  ;  whilst  Omm-el-Aamid  is  two 
or  tliree  thousand  yards  distant  from  the  beach.  Akhzib 
is  unquestionably  the  wdXis  tSiv  'EKiiimtov  of  Scylax,  the 
0})(uduin  Ecdippa  of  Fliny,  and  the  Mutatio  Ecdippa  of 
the  Itinerary  from  Bordeaux  to  Jerusalem.  This  last 
places  Ecdippa  at  a  distance  of  twelve  miles  from  Alexan- 
droscliene,  which  is  sufficiently  correct. 

NAHR-EL-HEZRAAH. 

After  the  town  which  he  calls  itikis  tSj/  'EKbimroiv, 
Scylax  places  a  Trorofxds  or  river,  without  giving  the  name. 
For  once  we  have  no  choice.  This  river  is  necessarily 
the  Nahr-ei-Mezraah,  which,  though  not  a  very  consider- 
able stream,  is  still  the  only  one  that  can  be  called  a  river 
between  Akhzib  and  Akka. 

AKKA. 

Here  again  it  is  impossible  to  have  a  doubt ;  Akka 
is  unquestionably  the  'Am;  wdAts  of  Scylax,  the  Colonia 
Claudia  Caesaria  Ptolemais,  quondam  Ake,  of  Pliny,  the 
'Akj)  of  Straho,  the  Ptolemais  of  Antonine's  Itinerary,  and 


I 


of  Peuluigcr'a  Table,  and  tlie  CiviUw  Ptolenms  of  the 
Bordeaux  pUgriin. 

Let  us  now  exiunine  the  distances  stated  in  the  ancient 
Itineraries  as  existing  between  T)-re  and  Ak^,  or  Ftole- 
mats.  Antoninc's  Itinerary  gives  x.'cxii.  mites ;  anottier 
reading  of  Uie  same  gives  only  xxx. ;  Peiitinger's  Table 
XXXII. ;  and  lastly  tiio  IJordeaux  Itinerary  gives  xii.  miles 
from  Tyro  to  Alexandrosciiene  ;  xii.  from  Alexandroschene 
to  Eodippa,  and  vni.  from  EcJippa  to  Ptolomai»,  altogether 
xxxii.  miles.  These  three  numbers  being  in  exact  coin- 
cidence, wc  must  conclude  that  the  second  reading  (giving 
XXX.  miles)  in  sonic  copies  of  Automue's  Itinerary  is  to  be 
rejected  as  erroneous. 

Akka.  boing  the  extreme  point  which  I  was  enabled  to 
visit  on  the  Phreniciari  coast,  I  shall  cud  here  my  review 
of  the  ancient  geographical  authorities,  and  1  hasten  to 
reaumo  tJie  narrative  of  our  joumey,  without  regretting 
the  length  of  a  digression  that  has,  I  hope,  thrown  some 
light  upon  several  points  hitherto  involved  in  obscurity. 

By  ten  minutes  aAcr  seven  we  had  left  St.  Jeua  d'Acre, 
and  were  moving  southward  through  the  plain  of  Acre, 
or  the  ilcrdj-sahcl-Akka.  Five  hundred  yards  distant 
from  the  city  walls  there  is  a  small  hillock,  known  by  the 
inhabitants  under  the  name  of  the  French  mount.  It  was 
there  General  Bonaparte  placed  in  batter)-  the  few  field- 
pieces  which  he  had  bi-ought  from  Kgypt  to  the  attack 
of  St  Jean  d'Acre.  All  thw  pbiin  is  excellent  soil,  and 
h^hly  cultivated  ;  but  the  rains  have  cut  up  ttic  roads, 
and  we  cannot  get  on  as  fast  as  we  should  like. 

Half  an  hour  after  leaving  the  town,  we  cross  a  muddy 
stream,  on  tbe  inat^u  of  which  some  Arab  women  are 


hH^ 


TO 


oioa:>tic  uou^uills. 


busy  washing  their  tattered  linen.  Wo  observe  hero  a 
strajtgc  phenomenon :  molv-liills,  innumerable  and  quite 
fresh,  are  spread  all  over  the  plain  ;  but  such  mole-hills ! 
a  yard  high,  and  three  or  four  yards  in  circumference. 
Of  what  size  can  be  the  moles  who  tiirn  up  s«ch  a  mass 
of  earth  t  Oiu-  moukri  Sayd  pretends  that  they  are  grey, 
and  as  hirge  aa  our  domestic  eats.  I  am  inclined  to  believe 
him,  but  I  confess  that  1  should  luive  been  glad  to 
have  procured  one  of  these  extraordinary  moles,  to  verify 
the  iact. 

After  two  hours*  march  we  reached  the  foot  of  a  hillock 
quitc  round,  and  most  likely  artificial.  It  is  about  fifteen 
or  twenty  yards  high,  the  base  entirely  covered  with 
rubbish  ;  and  I  ciimot  help,  when  I  look  at  it,  thinking 
of  the  mounds  of  Nincreh,  Who  knows  if  well-directed 
trenches  would  not  bring  to  light,  here  aa  at  Khorsabad, 
some  important  discoveries  1  However  that  may  be,  this 
enormous  mound  bears  the  name  of  Bt-Tcll-Kisan,  and  a 
small  fountain  on  the  foreground  in  the  direction  of  the 
plain  of  Acre,  is  called  the  Ain-t5t-TeII.  From  this  place 
we  discover  very  plainly,  to  oiir  left,  and  in  advance  on 
the  heights,  the  villages  of  Kirkeli,  Beroneh.  Ed-Damoun, 
Er-Raouys.  and  Tararah.  These  villages  form  something 
like  a  right-angled  triangUi,  the  summits  of  wluch  ara 
occupied  by  Kirkeh,  Tamnili,  and  Kr-Kaouys,  whilst  Ed- 
Damouu  and  Beroneh  lie  upon  the  hypothciiusc.  Among 
the  four  sacerdotal  towns  of  the  tribe  of  Asher,  we  find 
mentioned  in  Joshua  (xxi.  13),  the  name  of  a  locality 
which  the  Greek  version  transcribes  by  x«Aitar.  Doea 
not  this  village  of  Kirkeh,  which  we  find  hei-e,  occupy  the 
site  of  Uie  biblical  town  ?  I  believe,  without  venturing  to 
affiim,  that  it  docs. 


TIU^GB  07  ABILUH. 


71 


I 
I 


Ban- 


I 


cr  having  got  over  the  Tell-Kiaau,  our  march  still 
leads  us  through  the  plain  for  about  a  thousand  yanlK, 
and  we  enter  upon  ground  which  gradually  rises  by  slightly 
marked  degrees.  Numerous  tombs,  cut  out  of  the  rock, 
to  the  right  and  left  of  our  road,  appear  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  a  ruiuod  Mczraali  (farm)  called  Et-Thcireh. 
After  this  wc  pass  through  a  pretty  rallcy  of  no  great 
extent,  where  we  fall  in  at  every  step  with  distinct  traces 
of  an  ancient  paved  road.  By  half-past  ten  we  reach  a 
higher  ridge,  and  still  follow  the  same  road,  leaving  to 
our  riglit,  distant  about  Iialf  a  league,  on  a  height,  the 
village  of  Abillin  ;*  probably  the  very  same  fix)m  which 
the  celebrated  Siro  Jean  d'Abihn,  the  sage  chronicler  of 
the  AxKifes  of  Jermalem.  derived  his  name.  To  the 
right  and  left  the  hills  are  covered  over  with  hohn-oaka 
and  hilars. 

Up  to  a  quarter  paid,  twelve,  that  is,  for  more  than  an 
hour  and  a  half,  we  have  been  proceeding  along  the 
old  road,  through  an  sgi-eeable  valley,  which  opens  into 
the  Mcrdj  (or  plain)  EI-Batliou£  Hero  are  the  mill 
and  the  mined  khan  of  El-Bedaouieh,  where  we  stop  to 
breakfast.     This  khan  is  on  the  declivity  of  an  isolated 

;d  regular  hillock,  in  shape  something  like  the  Tcll- 
Kisan ;  but  fium  the  rocks  appearing  tlirough  the  soil, 
it  cannot  be  supposed  to  bo  artificial.  To  the  right  and 
left  the  plain  extends  a  few  thousand  yards,  but  it 
scarcely  reaches  a  league  forward,  and  we  descry  before 
na,  on  the  hills  which  enclose  il,  the  village  of  Safourieh, 

■  In  UiM  book  of  Jo*bu>  (liz.  36)  tn  roul,  unong  Ui«  (omii  of  the  triba  of 
,JUh«r.  •  ll«lirow  Ulna  wUch  hu  bMD  tnauurlbad  Ebroo.  Sut  u  tliu  tntaierip- 
tioa  eorrcot  T    NMlusg  provM  ibM  it  i*  ao^  and  from  the  wa;  lo  wliioh  tiut  word 

Abdlin  it  wriUon  m  Anbie     J[^  I  shoulil  almost  b«  inoliood  to  Ibink  that 
tliia  plate  ii  the  Ht«  of  tlio  tovn  mentiouid  by  Joaliiii. 


\ 


72 


RIMMUN. — SAFOURISH  ;   OR  82PPU0RIS. 


Several  villages  are  situated  in  proximity  to  the  Merdj- 
el-Batliouf,  aiid  to  the  left  of  the  rojid  leading  to  Safoiirieh. 
These  are,  Kafer-Mendah,  at  only  twenty  minutes'  wfilk 
from  Bir-el-Bedaouieh  ;  tJien,  at  the  bottom  of  the  valley, 
Lcha>iich.  El-Aczir,  aod  Eoimiraniicli.  The  two  first  are 
distant  about  thirty  luiiiutes*  walk  from  each  other  ;  and 
from  Aczir  to  Roummaneli  requires  twenty  miuutea. 
Uoumniiinch  lying  at  the  foot  of  the  ridge,  upon  which  is 
situated  Safuui-ieh,  occupies  tlie  site  of  the  place  called 
Rimmon,  belonging  to  the  tribe  of  Zabulon.  (Josh.  xix.  13) 
for  Joscphus  (Ant.  v.  I)  aasigiiR  to  this  tribe  the  territory 
enclosed  between  the  lake  of  Geimcsarcthf  Mount  Carmel, 
and  the  sea.  As  to  the  villages  of  Lebayneh  and  El- 
Aczir,  I  cannot  find  any  biblical  localiUcii  to  which  they 
may  he  referred. 

During  our  two  hours'  halt  at  the  Khan  El- Bcdaouieh, 
our  entomologists  have  well  employed  their  leisure.  By 
fifty -five  minutes  pa«t  one  we  get  on  horseback  again,  and 
enter  the  Mci-Jj-el-Bathouf.  Six  minutes  after  leaving  the 
khan  we  cross  a  small  morass  fonued  by  a  little  muddy 
Btrcam,  and  wc  take  altogether  twenty  minutes  crossing 
the  merdj  (plain),  then  we  begin  ascending  the  Safoiirieh 
ridges.  After  having  surmounted  and  descended  one  of 
these,  we  follow  a  ravine  which  leads  us,  by  forty  minutes 
past  twu  o'clock,  between  the  village  of  Safoiirieh,  and  the 
burying-gi-ound  which  it  divides  from  the  village.  To  the 
right  and  left  the  ground  is  very  stony,  and  all  around 
are  accumulated  vast  heaps  of  ancient  fragments,  certi- 
fying abundantly  the  departed  splendour  of  this  miserable 
hamlet, 

Safourieh  is  indeed  a  memorable  place  ;  Joscphus  caila  it 
Sepphoris,  and  it  appears  from  his  narrative,  that  it  was 


.    NAZARKTll. 


7S 


then  the  strongest  fortress  la  Galilee.  At  a  later  period  it 
received  the  name  of  Dio-Cajsarea.  Safourich  was  the 
seat  of  one  of  the  fire  Sanhedrims  of  Jiidiea,  It  was 
redwced  bv  the  Romans  cominandod  by  Varus,  and  Herod 
Agrippa  made  it  the  most  important  station  m  the  country. 
In  tlio  year  339  of  the  Christian  era,  an  insurrection  of 
the  Jews  having  broken  out  at  Dio-Cffiearea.  the  Csesar 
Gallus  left  Antioch  lo  crush  the  revolt ;  all  the  inhabitants 
were  slaughtered,  and  the  tomi  rased  to  tlie  grouud.  From 
that  time  it  never  recovered  any  importance. 

A  few  hundred  yards  lurther  on,  arc  two  watering  places 
for  cattle  cut  out  of  the  rock, — these  ai-e  called  the  Ain- 
Safourieh.  After  having  passed  a  small  plain  planted  witli 
olive  trees,  the  road  leads  throujth  the  Ouad-cl-Aama,  a 
stony  and  melancholy  valley,  from  which  you  have  to 
ascend  the  opposite  ridge  by  a  very  difficult  path.  Having 
reached  the  top  of  the  hill,  you  discover,  to  the  right  on 
the  height,  and  about  six  thousand  yards  oil',  a  ^lussulman 
oualy  (or  chapel)  :  this  is  En-Nahy-Sayu  ;  at  the  foot  of 
it,  io  the  foreground,  stands  the  Greek  church  called  Meusa 
Domini,  and  behind  it  the  town  of  Nazareth,  the  Eu-Naaara 
of  the  present  day.  I  will  not  attempt  to  describe  the 
emotion  which  we  all  felt  at  the  first  sight  of  this 
humble  city  where  the  Virgin  conceived  the  Saviour  of  the 
world. 

To  reacli  Naxareth  the  descent  is  very  rapid,  bo  wo 
deemed  it  prudent  to  dismount  and  proceed  on  foot.  By 
twenty  minutes  past  four  we  stopped  at  the  gate  of  the 
Casa  Kuova,  belonging  to  the  Franciscan  convent  of 
Kazai-eth.  As  we  had  already  experienced  at  St.  Jean 
d'Acre,  the  holy  men  who  lent  us  the  shelter  of  their 
hospitable  rooC   collected    witli    eager  Bolicitudc  arouud 


74-       CIIVBCH  AN1>  CUAUBUtt  i)V  THB  AKX1INCIATI0N. 


US,  and  Tied  with  each  other  in  kind  nttentioDS.  It  is 
impossible  not  to  feel  deoplji'  moved  liy  eudi  touching 
goodness. 

Wliilst  our  dinner  was  getting  ready,  we  went  to  present 
our  respects  -to  tJie  superior  of  the  courcnL  Hero  again 
wo  met  with  a  most  pleasing  reception.  But  night  has 
come  on  in  the  meanwliile,  and  it  is  tuo  hitc  to  visit  the 
holy  places  ;  wc  ai'O  therefore  compelled  to  wait  until  to- 
morrow morning. 

DntmltriOA. 

This  morning  very  early  we  were  on  foot  Besides  that 
we  had  a  pretty  long  day's  marcii  before  iis.  wo  were, 
above  all  anxious  to  visit  the  church  of  the  Annunciation. 
Without  loss  of  time,  we  obtained  tlio  aimpauy  of  wie 
of  tJie  fotbcrs  to  guide  us,  and  point  out  tho  sanctuaries 
which  wc  were  so  impatient  to  examine.  The  present 
church  is  built  on  the  site  of  the  old  one,  erected  by  St. 
Helena;  and  some  remains  of  that  venerable  structure 
are  still  recognisable  in  th(j  court  of  the  convent.  From 
t3ie  sacristy  a  staircase  of  primitive  simplicity  leads  to  a 
chamber  excavated  in  the  solid  rock.  This,  we  were  told 
by  the  monk  who  directed  us,  was  tho  habitation  of  a 
friend  of  the  Virgin  Mary. 

A  short  corridor,  likewise  cut  out  of  the  rock.  leads  to 
a  second  ujiartmcnt,  as  simple  as  the  first.  This  is  the 
chamber  of  the  Annunciation.  I  pity,  from  my  inmost 
Boul,  the  man  who  can  find  himself  in  such  a  place  with- 
out feeling  a  strong  and  deep  emotion ;  bis  insensibility 
must  be  affected.  If  some  travellers  are  imhappily 
iucliiied  to  boast  that  tboy  have  stood  there  unmoved,  1 
class  them  n-ith  those  vainglorious  sceptics  who  think 
they  lower  their  dignity,  unless  they  treat  with  ridicule 


SBTLECTIOHS   AKD   KHOTIOKB. 


Ih 


all  tbat  exceeds  their  limited  comprehcnsioD.    Sucli,  how- 
ever, is  usiially  tlie  error  of  jouth.     He  who,  at  twenty, 
scoffs  at  religious  belief,  is  very  likely  at  a  later  period  to 
fall  into  ail  opposite  extreme,  and  to  exceed  in  faith,  as 
I  once  he  did  in  incredulity.     For  niyselt  I  avow,  without 
licsitation,  that  upon  cutcring  this  ^'eucrablc  cave,  I  was 
moved  to  tears.     Some  years  ago  perhaps  I  might  have- 
been  ashamed  to  acknowledge  tJiis  ;  but  J  have  lived  long 
enough  to  alter  my  opinions,  and  I  deem  myself  most 
;       fortunate  in  the  change.     No  doubt,  in  many  people's 
B  eyes,  I  am  rendering  myself  ridiculous  by  this  confession ; 
but  on  such  a  subject  I  care  little  for  the  judgment  of  the 

I  world.  I  had  a  strong  desire  to  carry  away  with  me 
some  small  particles  detached  from  the  walls  of  the  holy 
cave.  I  succeeded  in  obtaining  them,  and  have  divided 
I  them  between  my  good  mother  and  several  other  friends. 
They  are  simple  enough  of  heart  to  prefer  this  humble 
Murenir  to  the  most  precious  jewels  which  I  could  have 
collected  in  my  travels.  But  let  us  return  to  our  journey. 
Before  eight  o'clock  we  were  ready  to  mount  our  horses. 
As  I  wished  to  take  with  me  a  man  who  had  a  timrough 
knowledge  of  tJie  route,  with  a  view  of  obtaining  from 

*liim  as  much   geographical   infonnation    as   possible,   I 
Ix^gcd  the  good  father*  to  provide  me  with  a  faithfiil 
and  tnistworthy  guide.     Thanks  to  their  obliging  recom- 
mcudatioii,  J  have  enlisted  a  fine  brave  fellow,  an  Arab 
by  birth,  and  standard-bearer  in  a  squadron  of  irn^lar 
B   TurkisJ]  Cjivalry.     I  intend  taking  him  as  far  us  Jerusalem 
^B  <Hlly.     He  is  called  Mohammed-Arlia-Beymkdar  ;  and.  as 
"  his  face  and  bearing  please  me  exceedingly,  our  tenns  are 
soon  settled.     At  a  quarter  past  viglit  we  are  all  in  the 
saddle  and  iu  motion.    Mohammed  sticks  to  me  a»  if  he 


ita 


re 


Tlie   PAITUPUL   HOIIAMUKD. 


were  tny  shadow,  and  I  soon  diitoover  tlmt  he  will  j 
a  valuable  acquiatioiL  He  knows  every  comer  of  the 
coimtry  we  propose  to  traverse ;  speaks  Arabic  wilh 
perfect  purity,  and  I  sometimes  aak  myself,  when  chatting 
with  liim,  whether  I  uju  talking  to  a  scholar  or  a  soldier. 
We  sliall  sec,  by  and  bye,  that  1  had  been  very  lucky  iu 
engaging  him. 

On  leaving  Nazareth  we  ctitcr  a  valley  which  narrows 
as  we  go  along,  for  about  an  hour,  until  it  reduces  itself  to 
the  bed  of  a  torrent.  Here  we  are  obliged  to  turn  off  to 
the  left  by  a  xig^cag  path  along  tlie  mountain-side,  until  we 
reach  ttic  level  of  a  inaguiiiceDt  plain,  spreading  out  on  all 
aides  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reacli.  The  features  of  the 
valley  wo  have  jii;*t  crossed  arc  most  lovely  ;  and  no  doubt, 
when  we  pass  it  again  in  spring,  we  shall  iind  it  beautifully 
green  and  full  of  Sowers,  for  there  is  n-atcr  in  abundanoa 

We  have  found  on  our  road,  distant  4^  furlongs  from 
Kazarclh,  a  small  pond,  where  rain-water  is  collected  :  it 
is  called  EI->Iehafer.  About  a  thousand  yards  further  on 
is  a  very  abundant  well,  uaincd  Bir-el-Emir.  Here,  as  in 
many  other  parts  of  Syria,  a  sarcophagus  has  answered 
tlic  pui-pose  of  a  trough  until  the  well  was  converted  into 
a  place  for  washing  woollen  clothes.  Nothing  can  be 
more  fresh  and  graceful  than  the  surrounding  scenerv — a 
complete  bower  of  orange  trees  aiid  cactus.  To  the  right 
of  our  road,  and  on  the  other  side  of  the  rocky  heights 
that  bound  it,  just  opposite  to  Hir-el-Kniir,  is  a  village 
called  lafa.  It  is  easy  to  recognise  in  this  the  id^d,  which 
Joscphus  mentions  as  one  of  the  places  he  caused  to  be 
surrounded  by  walls  when  the  Romans  threatened  to 
invade  Gallileo.  A  vain  precaution,  as  we  shall  soon 
discover.     (BelL  Jud.  iii.,  vii.,  31.) 


L — SOMAN   6tKQK. 


77 


After  ttie  sack  of  Jotapata,  Trajan,  commander  of  the 
Tentli  Legion,  wna  sent  by  Vespasian,  at  tlio  head  of 
two  thousand  infantry,  and  a  thousand  horse,  to  invest  and 
besiege  lain,  the  puimlation  of  which,  inspired  by  the 
example  of  the  Jotapatuniaus.  and  thinking  themselves 
quite  safe  behind  a  double  row  of  fortifications,  prepared 
[  for  a  desperate  rcaistauce.  But  too  much  confidence  led 
to  their  niin.  Seeing  the  small  force  that  was  sent  to 
attack  them,  they  imagined  they  could  easily  overpower 
it ;  they  ilierefore  marched  headlong  against  the  Ilomans, 
but  gare  way  at  the  first  collision,  and  were  thrown  back 
behind  their  outward  barriers,  which  the  legionaries  pene- 
trated along  with  them.  Those  who  had  remained  withia 
the  town  hastened  to  shut  the  inner  gates.  The  Romans 
immediately  did  the  same  with  iho  outer  ones  ;  and  twelve 

» thousand  Galilicans  were  slain  between  the  two  ramparts, 
uttering  more  dreadful  imprecations  against  their  own 
fellow-citizens  than  against  the  enemy  by  whom  they  were 
daughtered.  Trajan,  wishing  then  to  reserve  for  Titus 
th^  honour  of  taking  the  town,  sent  a  message  to  Ves- 
pasian, informing  him  of  the  Htatc  of  things,  and  asking 
faim  to  despatch  his  son  to  reap  the  glory  and  finish  the 
siege  of  lafa.  Titus  marched,  in  consequence,  with  five 
hundred  horse  and  a  thousand  infantry,  and  immediately 
on  his  arrival  the  assault  began.  The  terrified  Oalila^ans 
opposed  but  a  slight  resistance,  and  were  all  put  to  the 
^  sword,  excepting  only  the  women  and  children. 
B  The  book  of  Joshua  (xix.  12)  mentions  a  station  of  the 
tribe  of  Zabulon,  called  Japhia ;  tliis  Li  probably  again  our 
Ia&.  Reland  thought  he  had  discovered  the  biblical 
Japhia  ill  licifa,  a  town  placed  at  the  foot  of  Mount 
Carmel,  on  the  site  of  Sycaminos ;   but  the  aspirated 


T8 


PLAIN   or   nZREEU   OK   BSDgAELOS. 


ortliognqihy  of  the  word  Ileib  dotAioyu  all  connexion  be- 
tween it  and  the  word  lafit,  which  admits  of  no  aspiration. 

At  a  quarter-past  nine  we  had  reached  the  summit  of 
Uio  wiuding-path  which  leads  down  into  tlie  ptaiu.  This 
is  thv  pUiin  of  Joxrecl  or  Esdraelon,  now  called  Ik[er<lj>«bui- 
AAmer.  It  is  six  leagues  wide,  and  about  twelve  in  length 
from  north  to  soutlt  To  our  left  the  valley  is  majestically 
dosed  in  by  the  Djebcl-Thour,  Jllount  Tabor,  llefore  us 
is  tlio  I)je)wl-ed-I)aIry.  In  the  distance,  sa  far  as  the  eye 
can  rwach,  is  Djenin,  where  wo  intend  lo  quarter  for  llie 
night ;  and  hstly,  to  the  right,  fading  away  in  tlie  horizon, 
ve  see  the  moge  of  hilhi  among  which  is  situated  El- 
Ledjoun,  the  Megiddo  of  (ho  holy  Scriptures. 

As  wo  reach  the  level  of  the  plain  of  Ksdraelon,  we 
learo  at  a  few  hundred  yards  to  our  tefl  a  wretched 
hnmlet,  now  uninhabited,  caUed  H<Mezraah.  Then,  after 
only  a  few  minutes'  ride  further  on,  we  stop  to  breakfast 
near  the  ruins  of  a  deserted  farm.  Our  kitchen  is  soon 
tatablixliod  cm  the  slope  of  a  little  low  moimd,  and  we 
r«mnin  (here  two  whole  hours,  doing  our  best  to  kill  time 
in  looking  for  insects  which  we  cannot  6nd.  There  is  not 
a  sioglo  stone  on  the  ground,  which  is  composed  of  the 
richest  T<^tablo  soil,  and,  ooiwcqucnlJy,  our  entomolc^sts 
have  no  chance  of  adding  to  their  discoveries.  By  forty- 
five  minutes  past  eleven  we  strike  our  camp  and  resume 
our  march,  following  our  luggage  wliich  has  gone  on  in 
advance.  To  our  left,  and  distant  a  Uttle  more  than  a 
league,  we  leave  the  nllage  of  Iksal,  built  at  the  foot  of 
the  utountaios  of  ^^aiaroth.  This  is  the  Cbesulloth  of  the 
holy  Scriptures,  a  town  of  the  tribe  of  Lssachar ;  in  the 
bikik  of  Jutdiua  (xix.  IH)  it  is  namcii  Chesnlloth.  But 
LhuMi  traikscriptioDs  are  most  likely  erroneous,  and  there 


I 


CHBSin.I.OTll    AND  UaBEKATII   OF  8CEIPTUBE. 


79 


I 


eTery  reason  to  believe  from  thti  modem  structure  of 
the  name,  that  the  true  pronunciation,  whatever  the  advo- 
cates of  Masorctiu  criticism  may  say,  was  K»alouth  or 
£ksalouth.     Another  proof  of  what  I  advance  in,  tho  uamc 

'K^ovt  given  to  Uiis  locality  in  the  acts  of  the  council 
held  in  Jerusalum  in  &3G,  and  iu  the  "  Onomasticon"  of 
Eusebius. 

Still  iiirther  on,  and  quite  close  to  the  foot  of  Mniint 
Tabor,  stands  at  the  [>rcsciit  day  the  village  of  Dabourieli, 
which  may  very  probably  be  identified  witli  the  town  of 
Tabor,  or  Daberath,  of  the  tribe  of  Issadiar,  which  we  find 
mentioued  iu  the  book  of  Joshua  (xix.  12),  aud  in  tho 
Chronicles  (i. ;  vi.  72).  The  same  tow-n  is  named  ,^a^<ipw 
iu  tlie  Greek  vendou,  and  St.  Jerome  csih  it  "Dabeira." 
Evidently  there  is  no  great  difference  between  all  these 

t  designations  and  the  modern  name  of  Dabourieh. 
The  ground  we  travel  over  continues  wonderfully  fertile, 
notwithstanding  that  tlic  phiiii  rises  a  little.     At  a  quarter 
past  twelve  we  are  in  sight  of  the  village  of  Naijn.  situated 
about  a  league  distant  to  om-  left,  at  the  foot  of  tlic  Djebel- 
ed-Dahy.     Naijn  is  the  village  where  Clirist  raised  from 
the  dead  the  son  of  the  widow.     Gusebins  writes  the  word 
Naiin,  but  Saint  Luke  (vii.  11)  writ«  it  Noiy,  coinciding 
exactly  with  the  Arabic  pronunciation  of  the  present  day. 
A  little  furtlicr  on,  in  the  same  direction,  is  Ayn-Dour,  the 
Kndor  of  the  translators  of  the  Bible,  a  village  celebrated 
for  tlie  visit  paid  by  King  Saul  to  the  witch  who  conjured 
p  in  his  presence  the  shadow  of  Samuel,  and  prophesied 
to  liim  that  he  should  perish  at  Gilboa  in  the  battle  in 
hich  he  was  about  to  engage  with  the  Philistines, 
Above  Naijn,  and  nearly  on  the  summit  of  the  Djebel- 
ed'Dahy,  is  a  village  called  Kd-Dahy,  containing  a  small 


i 


BO 


BEDOt'tK    DErREDATIONS. 


onalv.  or  Mussulman  cbapel.  By  a  qiuirter-jiast  twelve 
the  plaiu  declines  again,  an<l  a  (jitarter  of  a  league  further 
on,  ve  cross  the  road  leading  from  Xaijn  to  Kl-Afouleh. 
El-Afouteh  is  situated  to  our  right,  about  half  a  league 
distant  from  another  village  allied  El-Kouleh,  built  on  the 
summit  of  a  small  hill,  at  the  foot  of  which  wc  arc  passing ; 
for  us  Frenchmen  these  names  of  El-Afouleh  and  KI-Fouleh 
awaken  glorious  memories.  Here  begaa  the  battle  of 
Mount  Tabor. 

Before  Kl-Fouleh*  a  small  »md<ij'  stream  intersects  our 
road.  Tlio  plaiu  continues  to  preserve  an  appearance  of 
extraordinary  fertility  ;  everywhere  it  i-s  covered  witli 
high  corn-stubble,  through  which  we  perceive  a  gi-eat  many 
footmarks,  such  as  might  have  been  left  by  a  number  of 
men  running  away  in  haste  either  on  foot  or  on  horseback. 
All  tliL-so  traces  are  in  the  same  direction  ;  and,  with  the 
curiosity  natural  to  travellers,  I  inquire  from  Mohammed 
■what  may  have  caused  them  1  He  then  tells  me,  without 
the  least  emotion,  that,  only  yesterday,  the  Arabs  from 
the  hills  of  EULcdjoun  came  to  attack  the  inhabitants  of 
gome  villages  of  Mount  Tabor  ;  that  they  fought  all  day 
■mtbout  much  damage  on  either  side ;  only  a  few  men  and 
women  were  killed  here  and  there  in  the  skirmish.  But 
the  worst  of  the  matter  was,  that  a  large  quantity  of  cattle 
has  been  carried  off  by  the  assailants,  and  the  tracks  we 
notice  mark  the  hne  of  their  retreat,  with  the  captured 
plunder.  The  story  is  encouraging  to  travellers,  and  gives 
us  an  idea  of  the  security  we  may  look  for  in  passing 
through  this  country.  Nevertheless  we  go  on  with  merry 
hearth),  rejoicing  under  the  glorious  sun,  which  warms  08 


*  El-FoiiUh  WM  ooegpicil  diirine  tlie  Cnundoi  b;  *,  fartnM  built  by  th* 
Knigliti-Tvmplim.  mlW  CwUvin  t'tim^  tlis  Ciwtio  of  the  ll«ui.  Tlil*  it  tli* 
UWral  trannUtloD  of  tlio  Arab  nnmn. 


SHDKEM. — .IKgRKRU — E1/-MAZAR. 


81 


ratlier  more  than  we  desire ;  and  ready  for  anything,  oren 
to  do  battle  will)  the  Bedouins,  if  ciiance  should  throw 
such  adreiiturcs  in  our  way. 

On  leaving  the  foot  of  the  hill  upon  which  El-Fouleh  is 
built,  we  descry  at  a  league  and  a  half  to  our  lofl,  and  on 
the  northern  declivity  of  the  Djcbcl-el-Mazar,  the  village 
of  Soolem  ;  this  is  again  a  biblical  name.  Soulcm  appears 
to  be  the  Shuneiii  of  the  tribe  of  Is^achar  (Josli.  xix.  18), 
the  same  as  the  Souleni  of  Euscbius  and  Saint  Jerome,  and 
also  the  village  of  the  Shunamite. 

Kine  furlongs  iiirther  on,  towardH  the  south-east,  and  a 
little  liighcr  up  tlio  mountain,  is  the  village  of  Nouris.  By 
a  quarter-past  one  o'clock  we  cross  the  road  which  leads 
from  El-Afouleh  to  Zeraijn,  at  a  place  where  the  plain 
rises  a  little.  Zeraijn  is  the  Jezreel  of  the  tribe  of  Issachar. 
that  is  to  say,  tlie  site  of  the  palace  of  Ahab^  where 
Jezcbol's  dead  body  was  devoured  by  dogs. 

By   lialf-paat  one  wc  cross  the  bed  of  a  dry  ravine; 

.  after  leaving  to  our  left,  distant  a  league  and  a  lialf. 

:  village  of  El-Mazar,  built  on  the  summit  of  the  Djebel- 
el-Mazar,  wc  arrive,  by  marcliing  directly  southward,  at 
the  foot  of  a  hillock  of  no  great  height,  upon  which  stands 
tlie  liamlet  of  Omkeibleh.  Here  again  we  cross  a  bcatou 
road  leading  to  the  village  of  EI-DjoUmeh,  which  we 
perceive  about  two  leagues  off  to  the  eastward,  and  at  the 
bottom  of  a  valley  formed  by  the  Djobcl-el-Manar,  and  by 
the  liill  upon  which  stands  the  village  of  Arraneh,  distant 
only  fourteen  furlongs  from  the  road  we  are  following. 

It  is  now  about  half-past  two,  and  another  hour  ctapsoii 
before  wc  reach  Djenin,  a  considerable  town  situated  at 
the  entrance  of  the  plain  of  Esdraelon,  and  at  the  foot  of 
tlie  mountains  of  Naplouse.     During  litis  last  hour's  ride 


vok  u 


>J  A  m'*An'"lNTMENT. 

wtf  'si**,*  coBit?  i:p  w;ch  some  Arab  horsemen,  going  like 
oursti'^ '-■  1\--'e:3.  Ttey  soon  enter  into  conrersation, 
All-'-  .u-  •^•-■a  -viuviirioc^  make  no  scruple  of  treating  us 
!»■ :'.'  .1.  ::w!i ;^.tn:y  :o  which  we  arw  very-  little  accustomed, 
r -T  -.ittii  ■■k-.*  *rv  yliia  Touar  an^I  Selcv  (meaning  Edward 
.lu-i  LV  Siiilv-vi.  lor  tfcev  have  taken  gootl  care  to  inquire 
our  'Jiiaies  a;  drst.  to  mutiLtte  them  according  to  their  own 
taucv.  But  as  we  are  intruders  in  their  country  it  would 
K-  bad  fK.'iie_v  to  show  ourwlves  offended,  so  we  pay  them 
I'd"  in  liie  same  cvm.  with  which  they  appear  perfectly 
satLslk-d. 

K}a  '.nir  way  we  euwunter  herds  of  antelopes,  and  a 
«uddcu  l!iut.-y  it:'ut:s  me  to  show  my  skill  as  a  marksman. 
Kichcr  I  »:it  a  bad  shot,  or  (to  save  mv  vanity)  I  think  I 
utUi^E  hiive  tiret.1  at  Iih)  great  a  discance.  Yet  I  have  had 
luy  moment  of  jilory  ;  out  of  five  antelopes  upon  which  I 
tii\vt.  fi.<ur  K'tc  otf,  bite  oue  remains.  I  am  already  pre- 
(>Hi'in^  »  idtouc  of  triumph,  when  all  of  a  sudden  the 
luuoivr  swrcs  to  its  less,  and  iu  three  bounds  is  up  and 
I'uuiiiiij;  with  the  foremost.  Decidedly  the  animal  lias 
i\\viv».\t  a  t'rijiht. 

Noilim^  can  be  prettier  than  Djenin ;  Wfore  us  are 
^;tvi>.'«  of  prthu  trees,  and  orchards  enclosed  by  hedges  of 
. .uiua :  aK've  those  rises  the  minaret  of  a  mos>}ue.  A 
'.^•ivt  >\'i»>^  furnishes  the  adjacent  gardens  and  meadows 
i».iU  .ui  ;»iiiplc  supply  of  pure  water.  We  follow  for  soma 
liuc  ilu-  iiiui-!<iu  of  this  rivulet  and  at  length  enter  Djenin, 
.  .,.».'uuia\l  by  a  throng  of  the  inhabitants,  who  press  on 
,.  '.liii  i-.i#;ci-  curiosity. 

V  viuiii. '.■»cn  more  tlian  usually  dirty,  receives  us  for 

.,    .^.11.      \ll  its  approaches  are  peopled  with  lookers-on, 

.  v>'*v  i'ui  civil  and  inoffensive.     Whilst  waiting  for 


S3 


our  dinner,  I  chat  with  tlie  principal  personages  amongst 
itbem,  and  graciously  treat  tlicm  with  a  pijw,  which  act  of 
generosity  completes  their  high  opinion  of  oiu-iuiportaii^f. 
t>ur  conversation  embraces  a  variety  of  serious  subjects. 
Islamism,  the  Prophet,  &c.,  &c,  and  as  I  have  adopted  tlio 
general  rule  of  never  olTen<ling  anybody's  religious  preju- 
dices, I  become  at  once  a  favourite  wit))  the  magnates  of 
Pjenin.  But  the  most  agreeable  society  must  break  up  ; 
the  weather  ia  bitterly  cold,  the  dinner  is  ready,  and  so  1 
Like  a  hasty  leave  of  uew  acquaintances,  who  would  very 
willingly  follow  me  into  the  khan,  but  Mohammed,  with  a 
most  ]icr&uasivo  gesture,  invites  them  to  remain  outside. 
I  trust  my  bitterest  enemy  may  never  bo  condemned  to 
a  night  in  the  khan  of  Djenin. 
Beyond  all  doubt  our  cook,  Coustanttue,  is  a  coiisum- 
uiate  radical.  We  loam  from  Audri?  that  the  day  before 
jeetcrday  the  sacrilegious  varlct  stole  everything  ho  could 
by  bis  hands  on  in  the  convent  of  St.  Jean  d'Acre ;  and 
tbat  yesterday  he  ban  repeated  tlic  same  mandjuvre  at 
Nazarctli.  Robbing  Catliolics  seems  to  this  fellow  quite 
a  reh'gious  obligation,  which  he  strictly  observes.  Patience! 
in  a  few  days  we  sliall  be  in  Jerusalem,  and  then  I  will 
eettlo  accounts  witJi  muster  Constantiuc  aflcr  my  own 
fealiion,  and  call  him  to  such  restitution  tliat  the  good 
btbers  of  the  Holy  Land  may  acquit  us  of  being  accom- 
plices in  his  roguery. 


most 


ai 


i 


CHAPTER  m. 

D;<nia^-Aa  w^  il  i        Tmiiib      H^T  ii        Ii' i'i      Fi'ii-TIiim   hawm^Ji 
4i&ab  rtrir — Si|kt    tdtcsBm  «^    nbbcn, — J»»fiait.— ihBAtPi. — 

K«r«*  a  a  ki^^^— 7^  GTKcichM.— Attni*^.— Er  Kubl— Fim  i^^  cT 
Jcrsi^IcEL— A^xut^er  •.Le  GnaL— nm  —Trcnov  tf  ifae  Holi'  OtJ.— 
)L  Bmu,  Um  Fnnek  OnmC—UinaKr  aad  llaae. 

Loxo  before  ilajlight,  for  manv  good  reasons.  I  via  up 
and  Rtining.  Yesterday  before  dinner  I  haA  taiken  a  little 
walk  in  tlie  direction  of  the  mosque,  and  had  admired  the 
Hplendjd  orange  and  palm  trees  with  which  it  is  sarromided. 
This  morning  at  dawn  I  repeat  my  risit  to  this  pretty 
iipt}t.  Yesterday  I  had  also  greatly  admired  the  damsels 
of  Djentn  as  they  came  down  to  fetch  water  from  the 
fountain.  This  morning  I  have  enjoyed  again  this  inno- 
cent pleasure,  and  I  hare  had  an  opportonity  of  passing 
ill  review  all  the  beauties  of  the  place.  Nothing  can  be 
more  pleasing  than  the  graceful  ease  with  which  they  carry 
on  tlieir  heads,  supported  by  the  right  arm,  the  vessel  that 
contains  the  provision  of  the  day.  Their  dress  is  also 
most  picturesque,  and  becomes  them  admirably.  I  recom- 
mend to  artists  the  arms  and  legs  of  these  ladies,  with 
their  bracelets  of  massive  silver,  and  I  wish  they  may  never 
have  less  graceful  models  to  draw  from. 

The  modem  Djenin  has  taken  the  place  of  Giniea,  the 
same  of  which  Josephus  has  given  (Bel.  Jud.  iii.  4)  a  very 


ENGAKKIM. — AN    EAOLB  SOOT. 


8S 


pleaeiug  description,  aud  which  is  still  correct  in  all  points 
up  to  the  present  day.  Of  the  ancient  Gioaia  all  that 
reniaiiis  are  a  few  foundations  of  walls  close  to  the 
nio8i|ue  ;  the  inhabitants  pick  the  stones  out  of  them  as  if 
they  were  a  convenient  quarry.  There  might  also  possibly 
be  au  identity  between  Djcuin,  and  Euganniin  of  tlie  tribe 
of  Issacliar  (Jos.  xix.  21  ;  andxxi.29);  the  Hebraic  fonu 
of  this  word  and  the  presence  of  the  beautiful  spring  of 
Bjenin  incline  me  to  this  belief 

By  a  few  minutes  after  eight  we  leave  Djenin,  and. 
entering  a  rocky  confuicd  valley,  direct  our  nuirch  towards 
Naplouse,  where  we  hope  to  arrive  early.  Almost  every- 
where our  path  preserves  unniistakeable  signs  of  an  ancient 
paved  road.  From  time  to  tinie  apjtear  some  old  olive 
trees ;  on  the  branches  of  one  of  these  sleeps,  without 
dreaming  of  any  mischief,  a  vciy  line  eagle,  who  seems 
unconscious  of  our  approach  until  we  are  close  to  his 
restiug-place ;  but,  awaking  too  late,  he  receives  a  shot 
from  Edwanl.  Sportsmen  do  not  kill  e^ies  at  every 
abot,  not  even  in  Syria  more  than  anywhere  else.  The 
consequence  is  that  my  young  friend  is  mucli  envied  by 
the  ordinary  Kimrods  of  onr  caravan,  I  mean  by  Belly  and 
Loysel.  Since  our  departure  from  Beyrout,  Bully  fires  at 
everytliiiig,  and  kills  his  bird  very  often.  Loysel  fires  at 
everything  alw,  but  misses  with  equal  constancy.  His 
sporting  failures  produce  unceasing  meiriment;  for  iu- 
Btancc,  we  meet  with  lapwmgs  in  all  directions;  the  country 
wo  arc  travelling  through  seems  their  exclusive  domain, 
and  ItcUy  kills  eveiy  day  sufficient  for  our  meals  ;  Edward 
kiUs  some  now  and  then,  Loysel  never  kills  any.  One 
might  think  that  the  little  jeering  cry  which  these  pretty 
birds  scream  out  as  they  fly  away  had  been  invented  on 


86  AS   UNSTCCBSSrUL  SP01tT81IA5. — QABATIEH. 

purpose  to  te82e  him.  One  day,  as  we  all  bunt  out 
langhing  because  he  had  just  thrown  awaj  u  nsoal  two 
in(H%  shots  upon  these  enchanted  lapwings,  I  asked  Lojiel 
what  the  unfortunate  creatures  bad  done  to  him,  that  he 
should  be  so  ferocious  against  them. 

"What  haye  they  done  to  me!"  said  he,  with  most 
comical  indignation,  "  the  villains  won't  allow  me  to 
kill  them!"  There  was  no  ansvering  such  a  jusb 
complaint 

From  time  to  time  the  rocks  present  some  signs  of 
ancient  architecture.  Just  at  the  end  of  Djenin  we 
discover  the  steps  of  a  Bturcase,  and  opposite,  a  tower . 
called  El'burj,  which  we  leave  on  the  height  to  our  rights 
About  a  league  distant  from  Djenin,  on  the  other  side  of 
the  road,  we  fall  in  with  a  sepulchral  cave  excavated  in  a 
rock  on  the  declivity  of  the  hill. 

For  about  an  hour  we  pass  through  ravines,  then  we 
ascend  a  small  flat  eminence  which  takes  us  to  the  village 
of  Qabatieh.  This  village,  surrounded  by  gardens,  is 
built  on  the  side  of  a  wooded  bill,  covered  with  oliTe 
trees.  After  passing  through  Qabatieh  we  descend  again 
into  another  hollow,  where  we  still  find  distinct  signs  of 
the  ancient  road.  A  small,  narrow,  and  deeply  enclosed 
plain  soon  opens  to  our  left.  This  is  the  plain  of  Mecilieh, 
so  called  from  a  village  distant  about  an  hour's  ride  from 
our  road.  Beyond  the  plain  the  valley  becomes  narrower 
again,  and  the  hill  sides  to  the  right  and  left  are  much 
wooded.  Finally,  after  three  hours'  march,  the  country 
opens  suddenly,  and  the  road  enters  into  the  plain  of 
Sanour  to  the  left  of  some  labourers'  huts,  which  here,  aa 
everywhere  else,  go  by  the  generic  name  of  El-Mezraah 
(the  farm). 


M  ERJ-SAKOUK. — U  AtHALOTH. 


BT 


Wc  Hud  here  tlio  eamo  soil  as  in  tite  p1;(in  of  Esdroclou  ; 
but  the  Merj-Sanour  lias  greater  moisture,  and  Mohauimed 
tells  me  that  in  winter  it  becomes  a  lake.  This  fino  plain 
spreads  out  to  a  coDsiderahIc  distance,  abont  three  leagues 
to  oiir  left,  whilst  to  the  right  of  our  road  tbo  hills  are 
only  a  few  hundred  yanls  off.  At  about  five  or  six 
thousand  vards  in  frout  of  us  ait  eminence,  detached  irora 
the  mass  of  hills,  is  crowned  by  a  village,  wluch  froui  afar 
lookH  like  a  fortrcRS.  It  is  called  Sanmir,  the  residence  of 
a  rich  and  powerful  Schcjkli,  who  ruigna  as  sovereign  over 
all  the  country  we  ai-e  about  to  travel  through  before 
entering  the  mountains  of  Naplouse. 

The  Merj-Sanour  18  enclosed  within  a  belt  of  moutitiina 
of  a  very  woody  and  agreeable  aspect  We  discover  two 
villages  built  on  the  southern  declivity  of  the  plain  ;  these 
are  Jkleltxaloun,  fourteen  furlongs  Irom  Sanour,  and  !jeyr, 
about  six  miles  further  on. 

Id  the  book  of  Maccabees  (i. ;  ix.  2.)  mention  is  made 
of  a  Galilean  station  called  MataoXw^,  and  I  am  inclined 
to  find  it  again  in  Meltzaloun.  Massaloth.  accoi'ding  to 
Maccabees,  was  in  the  territory  of  Arbela ;  and  Josephus 
placcfl  Arl)cla  (xii.  2,  1  ;  and  xiv.  13,  4)  at  no  gn-at 
distance  fivm  Sepphoris.  He  tells  as  that  Bacchides,  sent 
by  Demetrius  against  Judoia,  caaic  with  his  army  to 
encamp  before  Arbola.  a  town  of  Galilee.  Sajtour  occu- 
pies the  strongest  position  in  the  entire  country.  It 
seems  almost  impossible  tliat  the  hill  on  which  it  stands 
dioald  not  have  been  anciently  the  site  of  a  fortress  ; 
pcrhfl])s  Arbela  stood  there!*     What  apjMiars  certain  is, 


•  BoworcT,  t  HUM  not  eancnl  tb»t  anoUicr  looilitf  prvpond  for  Arbvlo, 
identkai)  witli  (lio  ruins  foun<l  at  no  i;n»l  iliatnin  fruiD  T11i*riiii)  idI  Mtniill]; 
r»11«il  f ifaid,  ■ocnw  kl*a  pUuHblcautiiiyh. 


UJUtBAil. — UKKAKFAitT  AL  ftUUIOO. 

tliat  it  would  be  (Uffioult  k>  find  an  cDcamping  ground 
more  suita1)Ic  to  an  army  t)ian  the  plain  through  which 
tho  ancient  road  pa&ses,  and  which  extends  all  the  way 
bctwocu  Sanour  and  Meltsaloun  ;  supposing  of  coarse 
that  the  commander  of  this  army  might  have  the  prudence 
to  occupy  with  a  strong  tine  of  outposts  all  the  approaches 
by  which  an  enemy  could  adrance  against  hiui. 

In  the  foreground  of  the  hill  of  Sanour  is  a  lower 
hillock,  on  the  top  of  which  is  raised  a  mound  so  regular 
that  it  must  be  a  tumulus.  Down  by  the  foot  of  these 
two  eminences  and  windiug  along  their  base,  the  ancient 
road  is  in  bettor  preservation  than  auywhere  eUe.  On  a 
near  inspection  Sanour  resembles  a  square  fortress.  OiUy 
a  few  huiidred  yai-ds  off,  and  on  the  flank  of  the  same 
range  of  hills,  upon  onu  of  which  i^nour  stands,  is  a 
liamlct  of  miserable  appearance  called  Djerbali,  and  a 
small  oualy  in  ruins. 

We  consult  a  moment  ^"^th  each  other  to  decide  if 
vc  shall  go  up  to  Sanour  aud  halt  tliere  for  breakiasL 
Instinctively  we  prefer  the  open  air.  Under  an  olive 
tree,  far  from  the  village,  wc  shall  perhaps  escape  the 
annoyance  of  vulgar  curiosity.  We  therefore  determine 
to  push  ou  for  half  an  hour  longer,  notwithstauditig  the 
rebellious  cravings  of  our  apjmlitcs  ;  and  alight  in  a  field 
half-way  up  the  nan"ow  valley  which  dividt-a  Sanour 
from  Djcrbali. 

The  weather  is  dclightiul ;  myriads  of  beautiful  insects 
swarm  around  us,  and  we  hunt  tliem  with  great  Koal 
whibit  our  breakfast  is  being  prejmred.  As  wo  arc  busily 
^''g'lgcd  in  packing  up  our  entomological  treasures,  a 
stout  powerful  young  man,  about  thirty  years  old, 
comes  up  with  us  at  a  liand-gallop,  followed  by  two  other 


M 


rii 


8CHKIKH    KKAhSU   Olf  MANOUR. 


S» 


I 


lorsemeii,  whose  tattered  garments  contrast  witJi  tbo 
elegant  dross  of  tiicir  leader.  All  three  are  well  armed, 
but  from  their  comitcimuccs  it  is  quite  clear  they  have  no 
hostile  iulentioiis.  Mohammed  and  the  ncw-couicr 
ojccbange  salaams  and  shake  hands,  and  1  join  in  the 
conversation  to  ascertain  who  is  our  friend.  ITe  proves 
to  be  Khaled,  son  of  the  Scbeikh  of  Sanour,  travelling 
through  his  estate  on  a  tour  of  inspection  amongst  his 
farmei-s.  Of  course  we  are  as  polite  as  possible  to  euch 
an  eminent  personage,  and  invite  him  to  breakfast  with 
us.  He  accepts  without  ceremony,  and  orders  one  of  Iuk 
companions  to  go  on  with  the  inspection  in  his  stead. 

This  order  is  given  with  the  air  of  an  autocrat,  and 
accordingly  the  Arab  is  very  soon  on  horseback  and  off 
on  his  master's  errand.  In  the  meanwhile  here  we  are, 
the  boNts  of  the  young  Scheikh  of  Sanour.  He  sees  us 
picking  up  and  pinning  dowu  insects  here  and  there,  lie 
discovers  the  eagle  which  Kdward  had  killed  in  the 
morning,  and  it  quite  puzzles  him  that  people  should 
throw  away  tlioir  time  and  tlicir  powder  ujiou  such 
unprofitable  game ;  last  aud  worst  of  all,  the  culinary 
preparations  which  tliat  arch  rogue  Constantino  elabo- 
ntea  under  bis  eyes,  give  liim,  apparently,  a  very  poor 
opinion  of  our  fare.  We  sink  in  his  estimation  before 
tlte  repast  begimi.  Ito  takes  us  for  phyt^iciaus  at  the 
best,  and  ho  would  almost  prefer  to  dine  with  his 
illustrious  father.  He  may  please  himself  for  what 
wo  care. 

SiiU.  whilst  smoking  our  pipes,  the  brave  fellow  keeps 
peeping  at  our  arms,  which  we  exhibit  to  him  one  after 
the  other,  at  his  request  :  the  thing  that  most  astonishes 
bim  is  Loysol's    powder-fl.i.sk.      At    the    sight    of  this 


00 


THB  SCHRIKH  8   UUNiriCElIT   GirT. 


iroplenietit,  which  seems  to  Iiim  of  incomparable  valne, 
tbo  Scheikh's  eyes  acquire  Atlditional  lustre.  ]lci*e  in  n 
famous  opportunity  of  recovering  tLo  ground  wo  Imve 
lost  in  his  opinion.  I  prerail  upon  Loyaot  to  give  up  bi$ 
powder-flAsk,  and  I  beg  the  Scheikh  to  accept  it  as  a 
rcmciiibraiico  of  our  meeting.  Of  course  there  is  no  need 
to  repeat  our  offer ;  but  what  recpiires  to  be  explained 
more  carefully  is,  tlio  mode  of  maunging  ilic  spring. 
After  every  lesson  lie  tells  me  with  great  alacrity : 
•*  Tha'ijb,  fehmt  I "  (Very  good,  I  understand.)  He  then 
tries  and  fails.  I  have  an  idea  that  Home  day  or  other 
he  wiU  blow  himself  up  wilJi  our  unlucty  present* 

The  dcMred  cflbct  is  produced  ;  we  have  become  men 
of  distinction  again  in  the  eyes  of  the  Scheikh.  Jt  is  his 
turn  now  to  show  otl'  t)ic  grandee.  Guesit  a  little  wliat 
he  will  think  of  to  prove  his  generosity  ?  He  draws  from 
his  breast  a  poeket-liandkerchiof  with  one  comer  tied  up  ; 
ho  unties  it  wiUi  a  sigli,  and  pulls  out  a  rhazy,  worth 
iihont  twenty  piastre.s,  that  is  to  say,  the  equivalent  of 
about  a  five-franc  piece,  and  slips  it  into  my  hand.  At 
first  I  cannot  understand  his  meaning,  and  I  look  with 
rather  an  astonished  air  at  the  diminutive  piece  of  gold 
so  generously  bestowed,  asking  myself  what  I  am  to  do 
with  it  1  I  confess  I  was  some  time  before  I  could  com- 
preiiend  tliat  he  was  ^vliig  me  a  poiir  lioire.f  When  I 
I'uund  it  out  at  hist,  J  luutcned  toretuni  his  coin,  ord»nng 
Mohammed  to  explain  to  him  and  telling  hira  myself  that 
I  made  presents  hut  accepted  noiia 

So  wc  have  changed  parts  ;  hut  the  Sanour  Schoikh  is 

*  Aim  T  1  haro  Icunt  that  aiuco  our  mtMng  at  g<uiDur.  Uio  poor  SetiaiUk 
Kbtlad  liM  liMD  \i\Wi  in  a  brawl  with  Mint  of  b!*  coiiDtrriuaa. 

t  Uio  imAll  nnttiiity,  n>  ollvl,  luiiitll;  ^nu  to  the  I'niitiui  i«l>(lri*«ra,  in 
•ddition  to  iheit  lua. 


A 


RBItELUOQK   HOBBB0L 


91 


I 


I 


by  no  means  affronted ;  he  puUs  out  his  handkerchief 
ngain,  ties  up  bis  money  as  before,  and  we  hear  no  more 
about  it.  From  tliis  moment  he  has  but  ono  thought, 
that  of  taking  leave  of  us  and  letting  us  breakfast  by 
onrselTCS.  However,  as  he  is  about  to  mount  iiis  charger, 
n  fine  idea  crosses  him.  Addressing  Mohammed,  he  says. 
"  Well,  I  also  wish  that  the  Frenchman  should  keep 
iwmething  to  remember  our  meeting ;  1  present  him  my 
horw, — tell  him  it  belongs  to  liim.''  His  horse  was  an 
old  Itosinante,  perfectly  worn  out  in  every  limb  ;  of 
course  I  refujicd  again.  No  sooner  are  wo  rid  of  our 
Tisitor,  who  returns  to  Saiiour  in  a  gallop,  than  wc  sit 
down  to  breakfiist ;  and  whilst  we  enjoy  our  meal  our 
moukrifl,  with  ttieir  usual  prudence,  take  off  our  horses' 
bridles  and  allow  them  to  grnxo  at  liberty  ;  a  bright  idea 
as  wc  shall  presently  mw. 

We  hare  halted  now  two  long  hours,  and  Naplouse  is 
still  at  a  distance  ;  it  is  high  time  to  start,  so  let  us 
mount  and  move  on.  There  is  one  Hmall  difficulty,  which 
is.  that  some  of  our  horses,  who  relish  exceedingly  the 
pasture-grounds  of  Sanour,  play  off  all  sorts  of  gamlwls  to 
aroid  beiug  caught  again,  and  gallop  away  towards 
Djebna.  Patience  I  the  creatures  will,  no  doubt,  soon 
lire  of  this  unusual  exercise.  But  the  monkris  are  the 
first  to  get  tired ;  they  tJirow  down  bridles  and  hits,  and 
refiise  to  run  any  longer  after  the  fugitives.  The  Abbe. 
my  son,  and  mvsclf  are  tlio  three  disinomitcd  cavaliers, 
and  we  wear  ourselves  out  in  vaJQ  efforts  to  catch  our 
cattle.  Kdward  and  Philippe  in  their  turn  go  racing 
after  them,  hut  with  no  other  result  than  wasting  their 
own  breath,  and  infusing  now  spirit  into  the  mutiucers. 

Just  as  wc  had  |>ropo8C<l  starting  from  our  breakfast* 


02 


A  COASK  AfTEK  ODB  OOBSES. 


gnnuid,  we  descried  a  troop  of  harsemen  coming  round 
the  hill  of  Sanour.  Were  they  fiiends  or  foes  ?  It  wa-s 
dithcult  tu  guess  ;  and  their  siidden  appearance  oiade  m 
Btill  nioro  angry  with  the  carclessDcss  of  our  moukris. 
We  had  been  for  a  moment  veak  enough  to  ima^^no 
that  the  Sdicikh,  delighted  with  our  politeneas  towards 
him,  WHS  sending  us  nn  escort.  Such  an  idea  wr»  indeed 
excecdiugly  simple  ou  our  part.  In  a  few  miuutcs  the 
troop  I  speak  of  came  up  with  us,  aud  we  recognised  a 
detachment  of  Turkish  regular  cavalry,  on  march  to 
garrigon  eomo  pkce  near  I\^aplouse.  Our  niisfortuue 
seemed  greatly  to  amuse  these  gentlemen,  who,  for  a 
moment,  made  a  show  of  helping  lu  to  catch  our  horses, 
but  succeeded  in  frigtittiiiing  them  a  great  dual  rooro,  aud 
then  paitsed  ou. 

My  eon  and  Andre  had  remained  behind,  waiting  until 
my  son's  horse  should  be  brought  back  to  him ;  for 
myself,  I  had  proceeded  ou  foot,  and  grumbUug.  on  the 
road  to  iJjobaa.  It  was  only  at  the  entrance  of  the 
village  that  my  horse  aud  my  son's  horse  gave  in,  and 
submitted  most  unwillingly ;  but  as  to  the  Abbe's 
charger,  it  was  quite  another  matter.  lie  t]ireaded  one 
after  another  all  the  knes  of  Djcbaa,  leaped  on  the 
terraces,  and  from  one  house  to  the  next ;  in  short,  he 
seemed  to  have  wings.  Whilst  our  friends  were  employed 
chasing  this  ill-couditiouod  animal,  1  tried  to  inOict  a 
caatigatioQ  on  mine ;  but  afler  only  two  blows  of  the 
whip,  he  began  such  a  fantastic  waltz,  turning  round  and 
round  on  the  same  spot  with  such  rapidity,  that  if  he  luid 
not  stopped,  tiie  punishmput  would  have  recoiled  on  me  ; 
three  turns  more,  and  1  should  have  been  otf  in  a  tangent 
over  his  ears. 


WEBAA.— STAKT  FOB  NAPL0C8E. 


93 


At  last  Uio  conFouncIed  horse  of  the  Abbe  is  caught : 
Pliiiippe,  who  is  an  excellent  rider,  teapH  into  the  saddle^ 
and.  notwithstanding  the  generous  entreaties  of  the  real 
master  of  the  bnite,  gives  him  a  sound  thrashing.  We 
arc  detiglited  with  tiis  success,  when,  just  as  he  is  sotting 
to  rights  the  heavy  musket  which  lie  carries  slung  across 
bis  shoulders,  and  not  minding  liis  horse,  the  rascally 
creature  takes  advantage  of  his  inattention,  rears,  tlirows 
his  rider  on  his  back,  and  begins  de  novo  all  his  tricks. 

By  this  time  Edwai'd's  indignation  and  mine  pass  all 
bounds,  and  wc  determine  upon  shooting  the  rebellious 
quadruped.  Ton  times  wo  think  his  account  is  settled ; 
wc  hare  him  well  coTcrcd,  but  just  as  we  are  going  to 
pull  the  trigger,  we  always  perceive  peeping  out  in  the 
very  direction  in  which  we  arc  going  to  fire,  the  gi-inning 
face  of  some  inhabitant  of  Djobaa,  who  rails  at  our 
impotent  fury.  It  is  enough  to  make  «s  lose  the  little 
self-control  we  have  left.  The  Abbe,  who  understands 
that  wc  want  to  kill  his  horse,  torments  us  with  his 
swpplicatioMs,  and  gets  rebuffed  accordingly.  In  short, 
wo  never  can  get  an  opportunity  of  shooting  the  beast ; 
and  after  four  mortal  hours  of  this  sport,  that  is,  four 
hours  of  dreadfid  perspiration,  Mohammed  succeeds  in 
recapturing  tlie  four-footed  demon.  The  Abb(3  imme- 
diately mounts,  and  begins  caressing  him!'!  lie  is 
assailed  by  the  whole  company  with  a  perfect  hurricane  of 
abuse  and  maledictions — but  he  heeds  us  not  1  What 
can  you  do  against  the  untiring  patience  of  an  Abb€  ? 
Nothing. 

The  sun  was  setting ;  our  luggage  had  been  gone  four 
hours  in  advance ;  no  doubt  it  had  already  reached 
Naplouse ;  and  my  son,  whose  lioi-!<e  awaited  ttim  at  a 


»4 


PREl'AftATIONS   FOK   UOBBBUS. 


fountain,  distant  four  hundred  ^ords  from  Djebaa.  had  not 
yet  niAdo  his  appearance.  My  anxiety  may  be  eaMlj 
nndorstood.  Two  roads,  leading  oiic  to  tlic  right,  the 
otlier  to  the  left  of  the  village,  meet  again  at  the  entrance 
of  the  Sanour  valley.  How  are  we  to  guess  which  he  will 
lake  !  Fortunately,  after  some  minuteN,  he  cometi  up  by 
the  road  to  the  right,  mounted  on  Audio's  horse,  AudnS 
following  on  foot. 

We  were  at  last  all  assembled,  but  worn  out  with 
latigue  and  in  very  bad  humour,  eHpccialty  against  tlie 
Abbti,  for  without  his  interference  we  should  not  have 
lost  so  much  time  ;  and  we  liad  still  a  four  hotira'  march 
beforo  us  by  uight.  and  in  the  mountains  of  Naplouse. 
moimtaius  of  which  the  inliabitants  enjoy  as  bad  a 
reputation  as  they  deserve.  Just  as  we  hare  joined 
forces  again,  Mohammed,  no  doubt  to  cheer  us,  warns  us 
to  be  quick,  to  ram  down  a  bullet  in  each  of  our  barrets, 
and  to  give  him  a  charge  for  hia  own  gun,  all  with  tlie 
quietest  aud  easiest  manner  in  the  worlJ. 

We  are  marching  at  last,  for  wliicli  we  may  be 
thankful !  Andnt  moves  on  first,  for,  by  liis  aocouut,  he 
is  afraid  of  nothing ;  3fohammed  comes  next,  then 
Philippo,  then  my  son,  then  all  thu  others.  In  less  than 
half  an  hour  it  becomes  quite  dark,  and  Kfuhammcd 
perpetually  urges  us  to  hurry  on.  Towards  seven  o'clock 
"we  are  moving  on  thn)ugh  tlie  darkest  night,  hut  far  from 
dreaming  of  any  luiahap.  when  Mohammed,  thinking 
he  is  speaking  to  my  son,  whom  he  supposes  close 
behind  him,  but  from  whom  he  is  separated  by  Philippe, 
points  out  a  nai'row  fiehl  on  the  left  hand  aide  of 
the  rocky  defile  which  we  are  threading,  and  says  in  a 
whisper : 


XIOHT  ABVEKTIJRB. 


9S 


I 


Fib,  nas !  Fib.  baratnieb  !  Neiacbi  aleihint."  {See,  men 
— tbieves  ■  Le(  us  rusb  down  upon  them.)  I'bilippe. 
who  does  not  understaud  tlic  iuvitalioii.  makes  no  auswer 
of  course.  Mobammed  insists.  "  Kemchi  I  "  (Let  us  go.) 
Still  no  answer.  Then  tlie  gallant  fellow,  in  a  liiry,  rushes 
forward  wjlb  \ai  gun  at  lu«  sbouldcf,  aud  vo  bear  tho 
following  words  :  "  Aicb  ente  t "  (Who  goes  there  t) 
A  ailciicc.  "Aicb  eiitc,  ya  kclb?"  (Who  goes  there, 
you  dogs  I)  The  same  silence  again,  immediatelj  broken 
this  time  b;  the  explosion  of  JhCohamnied's  gun,  accom- 
panied by  the  uKual  form  of  maiodiction  :  "  Allah  yel&- 
anek,  ona  abouk.  oua  abou  al>onk ! "  (May  Allah 
damn  tJiee,  thee  and  thy  father,  and  the  father  of  thy 
father ! ) 

On  the  shot  being  fired,  a  dark  form  rase  up,  and  tried 
to  run  oiT,  but  fell  agaiu  heavily  upon  tho  earth,  witltout 
nltering  a  groan.  Other  dark  forms  fled  rapidly  towards 
the  mountain.  Alobammud  rides  op  to  tbo  man  he  has 
Just  slain,  compels  bis  horse  to  touch  liim  witli  bid  foot, 
then  conies  back  quietly  towards  us.  "  Aicb  kan  ?  " 
I  to  him.  (What's  the  matter?)  "  lloua  mat" 
(He  is  dead!)  "Allah  akbar!"  (God  is  great!) 
"  NestaadjeL"  (Let  us  make  haste.)  And  he  lills  hia 
chibouk,  and  lighu  it  aa  quietly  as  if  he  was  sitting  on 
the  divan  of  a  coffee-house.  During  tlie  few  mintit«s  that 
tbU  disagreeable  scene  lasted,  1  had  ordered  the  whole 
party  to  alight.  Bt'cry  one  of  us  cocked  his  piece,  and, 
placing  himself  behind  his  horse,  stood  ready  to  fire. 
AH  executed  this  moremcnt  with  satisfactory  steadiness, 
and  from  tliat  instant  I  felt  conriuced  I  bad  none  witli 
me  but  brare  and  resolute  hearts. 

On  Moliammod's  urgent  rcnioustrance,  we  mounte«.I  onr 


B6 


NAPLODSK. 


horsca  again,  and  taking  onco  more  the  road  to  Nnplouse 
rode  OD  at  a  rapid  pace.  For  half  an  hour  we  romaioed 
on  the  qui  rivf,  listening  to  tlic  angry  shouts  that  were 
Bout  after  au  from  the  heights ;  hut  the  gentlemen  vc  had 
to  deal  with,  convinced  by  experience  that  we  were  rough 
customers,  contented  themselres  witli  nhouting.  and  went 
no  furtlier. 

It  was  nine  o'clock  when  we  entered  Naplousc,  sonie- 
w}iat  concerned,  I  confess,  for  the  possible  consequences 
of  the  ill-timed  adventure  wo  had  encountered  on  the 
way.  At  the  gate  of  Xapluuso  wo  met  our  moukri, 
Schai-iar,  who  was  waiting  with  a  lantern,  to  lead  us  to 
our  inn.  After  having  threaded  several  narrow  JUid 
muildy  streets,  we  arrived  at  last  through  a  series  of 
stinking,  Sltliy  passages,  at  the  foot  of  a  stiurcase,  some- 
thing like  the  ladder  of  a  henroost ;  but  at  the  top  of 
this  staircase  we  fnid  a  very  handsome  room,  witli  a 
small  terraced  court  in  front,  commanding  the  valley  of 
Naplouse,  and  also  a  complete  view  of  the  mountain  of 
Khal.  Behind  us  is  the  Gerudm^  but  concealed  by  the 
neighbouring  houses. 

Our  host,  who  is  a  Christian,  is  very  attentive,  and 
extremely  anxious  that  we  should  admire  the  lodging  he 
has  prepared  for  ua.  Indeed,  we  have  met  nowhere, 
excepting  at  DnmR.scus,  so  comforUtble  and  clean  an  inn  as 
this  of  Naplouse  ;  it  is,  of  course,  a  little  infested  with 
vermin — but  Iiow  is  tliat  to  he  avoided  in  S}Tia  ?  During 
our  meal,  wbidi  we  found  only  in  preparation,  notwith- 
standing the  groat  advance  our  higgage  had  made,  wo 
talk  over  the  affair  of  Djehaa,  and  all  agree  as  to  the 
necessity  of  being  silent  on  the  subject.  In  this  country 
of  Kaplouse,  scoring  out  a  debt  of  bloodshed  is  no  subject 


ABAB  MORAi,tTT. 


97 


i>T  a  jest ;  and  we  have  every  reason  to  be  uneasy  at  the 
account  we  iiavo  run  up  tliis  evening.  The  Abbe,  who 
sees  none  but  honest  people  cvorywlicre,  is  very  angry  at 
what  has  happened.  Ju  big  opinion,  the  man  who  has 
been  shot  was  quietly  enjoying  a  walk  ailcr  tliauor, 
intending  no  hai-ra,  and  our  consciences  are  burtheuod 
with  a  foul  murder.  I  t«U  him  it  is  all  his  fault,  and 
that  if  lie  had  not  prevented  u»  from  killing  bus  wrotchecl 
brnte  of  a  horse,  we  should  not  have  been  surprised  by 
night,  nor  phicod  in  the  disagreeable  necesirity  of  killing 
a  man.  This  argument  lias  no  effect  upou  him,  and  I 
really  believe  that  we  part  in  ill-humour,  though  we  bid 
each  other  good-uighl. 

To  have  done  with  the  scruples — certainly  most  praise- 
worthy ones — of  this  excellent  friend,  I  will  say  at  once 
that  he  obstinately  retained  his  conviction  with  respect  to 
Arab  morals,  until  one  day,  when  looking  out  for  plants, 
quite  alone  as  usual,  and  at  some  dijstance  from  the  caravan, 
fae  found  near  Saydali,  in  the  safest  country  in  the  world 
according  to  liis  CKtimate,  a  hollow,  containing  objectH  very 
diflcreiit  fipom  the  rare  plants  ho  was  searching  for — two 
dead  bodies  of  men  just  slaughtered,  and  HiaughtGred  for  the 
miserable  sum  of  a  hundred  piastres.  No  oao  ever  took 
the  trouble  of  inquiiing  by  whom  tlio  deed  had  lieen  done, 
and  tlic  perfect  indifference  of  the  people  who  passed  by. 
when  calle«i  upon  by  the  Abb*i  to  come  and  look  on  this 
horrid  spectacle,  made  him  reflect,  no  doubt,  that  the 
police  constitutes  an  excellent  institution  in  general,  and 
might  not  bo  superfluous  in  Syria  in  particular. 

As  wo  must  return  again  to  Naptouse.  once  at  least 
during  our  joumoy,  we  decide  not  to  examine  any  of  tho 
curiosities  of  the  place  at  lliis  visit.     Time  presses  ui>on 


VOL.  r. 


w 


ISHOSPITALITY  0?   NAPL0D8B. 


OB,  for  we  have  Atill '  two  days'  march  fVom  hoioe  (d 
Jerusalem,  and  wc  are  already  on  the  evo  of  the  22nd  of 
December.  It  is  therefore  agreed  that  wc  shaJl  start 
to-morrow,  early  in  the  morning,  so  as  to  hull  for  the  night 
at  El-Birch. 

Notwithstanding  our  wis!),  we  have  not  heen  a))lc  to 
start  before  eight  o'clock.  Om-  moukris,  our  horses,  the 
idlers  and  mendicants  crowding  around  us,  form  in  the 
lane  where  we  lodge  a  mass  of  eonfusioii,  through  which 
it  is  Tcry  diiBcult  to  escape.  Every  one  demands  a 
bakhshish,  which  wo  refuse  with  a  pertinacity  equal  to 
their  entreaties.  At  laat  we  succeed — no  easy  undertaking 
— in  getting  out  of  Kaplouse  wiUi  an  accompaniment  of 
abuse,  and  even  stones,  wliich  the  amiable  children  of  the 
town  hurl  at  us  from  the  tcrrncca  as  they  look  down  u|H)n 
our  transit.  Whilst  riding  through  a  miserable  bazaar,  we 
catch  a  hasty  glimpse  of  an  attiaetire  portico  of  a  church 
of  the  twelfth  century,  now  transformed  into  a  mosque,  and 
before  which  we  were  not  permitted  to  halt  even  for 
a  moment.  0  hospitality  !  thou  art  but  a  vain  word  at 
Naplouso. 

flaving  cleared  the  town,  we  find  ourselves  in  a  fresh 
valley,  planted  with  a^ed  olive  trees,  and  irrigated  by . 
numerous  springs  of  running  \Yater.  Everywhere  under 
the  turf  we  discover  vestiges  of  ancient  buildings.  Whore 
we  tread  just  now,  stood  the  town  of  Shechem,  the 
cherislied  city  of  the  patriarclis  ;  and  the  ruins  we  see  are 
most  probably  those  of  Neapolis,  which  succeeded  Shechem. 
To  our  left  is  the  huge  mass  of  Alouut  Ebal,  n-ith  its  base 
excavated  into  numerous  fmieral  caves,  remains  of  the 
necropolis  of  8hechem.     To  our  right  we  admire  the 


8HBCH  KM. —Jacob's  wkhT 


M 


summits  of  Uie  Otirizim.  on  the  green  side  of  which  18 
pleasantly  seated  the  modern  Naplousc. 

For  about  a  mile  wo  follow  this  delightful  valley.  As 
wo  are  going  to  leave  it,  we  pass  before  the  well  of  the 
womau  of  Samaria,  called  Bir-Yakoub  (Jacob's  well)  by 
the  ArahsL  A  little  Further  on  towai'da  the  cast  is  a  amall 
Mussulman  oualy  (chapel),  said  to  be  the  tomb  of  Joseph. 
From  this  spot  we  turn  suddenly  southward,  and  cut«r 
another  rich  ralley,  which  we  follow  during  more  than  two 
hours.  Tho  wind  blowiug  very  strong  from  tho  south,  in- 
commodes us  much,  and  I  have  great  difficulty  in  taking 
notes  as  we  ride  along. 

Nearly  opposite  the  spot  where  the  valo  of  Shecbcm 
opens  into  the  second  valley  wo  are  now  in,  we  descry,  at 
the  foot  of  the  surrounding  hills  to  our  left,  the  village  of 
Azmout.  A  little  further  on.  half-way  up  the  dechvity, 
and  in  nearly  the  same  direction,  stands  the  hamlet  of 
Ed-Dcir.  A  few  furlongs  further,  but  to  tho  cast-by -south, 
ve  perceive  on  a  height  a  considerable  village,  called  Beit- 
Dejan  ;  and  on  this  side  of  it,  on  a  lower  hill,  the  village  of 
Koujib. 

The  Book  of  Nehemiah  (vii.  28).  and  that  of  Esdras 
(ii  24),  mention  a  locality  called  Azmout,  which  Rcland 
supposes  to  have  belonged  to  the  tribe  of  Judali  or  to  the 
tribe  of  Benjamin,  because  its  inhabitants  are  spoken  of 
along  with  those  of  Netopha,  Gilgal,  and  Geba.  The  com- 
plete identity  of  the  name  might  make  us  supjiuse  that  the 
Azmout  of  the  Scriptures,  erroneously  transcribed  Aznia* 
veth,  and  the  modern  Azmout,  were  hut  one  and  the  same 
place,  if  we  did  not  read,  at  the  same  time,  in  Nehemiah 
(jii.  28,  29),  that  "The  sons  of  the  singers  gathered  them- 
selves together,  both  out  of  the    plain    country  round 


IQO 


BSTO'DAOOir. 


Jerusalem,  and  from  the  village-s  of  Nctophatlie  ;  aim  from 
the  bouse  of  Gilgnl,  and  out  of  the  fields  of  Ocba  and 
Azmavetli ;  for  the  singers  had  buildod  them  villages  round 
about  Jerusalem."  Keally,  a  village  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Naplouse  cannot  be  considered  as  built  near  Jerusalem. 
Let  us  then  come  to  this  conclusion,  that  wc  find  here  one 
example  more  of  the  frequent  repetition  of  geographical 
names  in  the  Bible,  the  same  name  being  very  otlou  given 
to  several  diJlbront  localities. 

If  tre  cannot  assign  positively  to  Azmout  a  biblical 
antitjuity,  we  shall,  I  think,  be  more  fortunate  with  re- 
spect to  the  next  village,  Beit-Bcjan.  It  is  identical 
with  Beth-Dagon.  where  Saul's  head  was  carried  after  he 
had  perished  on  the  mountain  of  Gilboa.  In  Joshua 
(xv.  4l)  we  find  mentioned  a  place  called  Beth-Dagon, 
belonging  to  the  tribe  of  Judah :  evidently  this  is  not 
the  same  as  ours.  Joshua  also  mentions  (xix.  27)  another 
Bcth-Dagon.  belonging  to  the  tribe  of  Asher ;  neither  is 
this  our  Beit-Bejan,  since  wo  are  now  on  the  territory  of 
thu  half-tribe  of  Manasseh  (on  this  side  of  the  Jordan)  and 
of  the  ti'ibe  of  Ephraim.  We  muat  therefore  look  else- 
where. In  1  Chronicles  {x..  verses  3rd  and  following)  we 
read  : — "  And  tlio  battle  went  sore  against  Saul,  and  the 
archers  hit  him,  and  he  was  wounded  of  the  archers.  Then 
said  Saul  to  his  armour-bearer,  Draw  thy  sword,  and 
thrust  me  through  therewith ;  lest  these  uncircumcisod 
come  and  abuse  me.  But  his  armour-bearer  would  not ; 
for  he  was  sore  afraid.  So  Saul  took  a  sword  and  fell  upon 
it.  And  when  his  armour-bearer  saw  that  Saul  was  dead, 
he  fell  likewise  on  the  sword,  and  died.  So  Saul  died, 
and  his  three  sons,  and  all  his  house  ttied  together.  And 
when  all  tlie  men  of  Israel  that  wore  in  the  valley  saw 


PH-DAOOir. 


that  they  fled,  and  that  Saul  Mid  his  sons  were  dead, 
then  they  forsook  their  cities,  and  fled  :  and  the  PhiUs- 
tiuee  camo  and  dwelt  in  them.  And  it  came  to  pass  on 
tiie  morrow,  when  the  Pliiliatines  cfime  to  strip  the  slain, 
tiiat  they  found  Saul  and  his  sons  fallen  in  Mount  Gilboa. 
And  wlicn  tlu-y  had  striitjiod  him,  they  took  his  head  and 
bis  armour,  and  sent  into  the  land  of  the  Philistines 
round  about,  to  carry  tidings  unto  their  idols,  and  to  the 
people.  And  they  put  hi»  armour  in  the  house  of  their 
gods,  and  fastened  his  head  in  the  temple  of  Dagou." 

The  bodies  of  Saul  and  of  his  sons  had  been  carried  to 
BetliHhan  (the  Beysan  of  the  present  day).  The  inhabit- 
ants of  Jabcali,  in  the  country  of  Gilead,  came  and  cai"ried 
them  oflT  during  the  night,  and,  having  repassed  the 
Jordan,  buried  them  with  funeral  honours. 

J  am  very  nmcli  inclined  to  believe  that  the  Both- 
Dagou  of  the  passage  just  quoted,  is  no  other  than  our 
Beit-Dejan,  because  this  village  is  indeed  only  one  day's 
march  from  Djilbouu,  tlic  locality  in  the  mountain  to  tho 
north-east  of  Djenin,  which  was  unquestionably  tho  scene 
of  Saul's  disaster.  As  to  Koujib,  if  it  is  not  a  village  of 
modem  foundation,  I  do  not  know  to  what  ancient  locality 
it  might  be  referred. 

Nearly  opposite  Koujib,  and  on  the  right  bank  of  the 
T^lcy,  is  the  village  of  Kafr-Kallin.  About  fourteen 
furlongs  further  on,  and  on  tho  same  side,  is  a  hamlet  of 
no  great  importance,  called  El-Makhna.  May  there 
not  be  in  this  name  EI-Makhna  an  alteration  of  the 
bibhcal  name,  incorrectly  translat<?d  Michnietliali  (Josh. 
xvi  6),  which  belongs  to  a  locality  pla<!ed  like  thiis,  on 
the  limit  of  Ephraim  and  Manasseh,  and  in  the  vicinity  of 
Sheclieni  (Josli.  xvii.  7)  ? 


IV2 


IIAOKARAII. — KOCSA. 


Among  the  hills  on  the  right,  forming  ehe  continnation 
of  the  Ofirizini  range,  there  is  one  with  such  a  regnlar 
figure  and  so  smooth  and  easy  a  dccHvity,  tliat  it  is 
scarcely  possible  not  to  reuognise  in  it  the  signs  of  human 
industry  of  a  \'ery  ancient  date.  A  league  further  on, 
two  large  villages  are  again  aituated,  one  on  tlie  right, 
the  other  on  the  left  flank  of  the  valley.  These  are 
Haonarah  and  A'ouarta.  As  we  were  proceeding  as  fast 
as  possible,  so  a^  to  reach  Jerusalem  and  Bethlehem  in 
proper  time  ;  and  as,  liosides,  we  intended  passing  again 
by  this  road,  1  contented  myself  with  merely  noting  the 
localities,  without  studying  them  with  as  much  attention 
as  1  did  on  onr  return.  For  this  reason,  in  another  part 
of  this  work,  I  Khali  recur  to  the  important  ruins,  which  1 
did  not  obser\e  the  first  time  I  travelled  this  way. 

The  village  of  Haonarah  ia  in  some  sort  the  key  of 
tills  fine  opening,  which  loads  directly  iuio  the  vale  of 
Shechem.  It  is  built  on  a  hillock  of  no  great  height, 
commanding  the  road  ;  and  the  heap.i  of  dirt  and  dung- 
hills which  surround  it.  give  it  almost  llie  look  of  a 
fortified  village.  A  littlo  beyond  Ilaouarah,  the  valley  is 
closed  in  to  the  soutli  by  ratlier  a  steep  hill,  over  which 
ascends  the  road  leading  to  JeruBalem  ;  but  as  here  the 
valley  suddenly  turns  off  to  the  west,  it  is  still  in  that 
direction  several  thousand  yards  in  breadth.  Behind 
Haouarab,  and  at  a  very  little  distance,  is  the  hamlet  of 
Aiju-Ouria  ;  and  at  the  bottom  of  the  valley,  the  village 
of  Kousa,  both  easily  diatingui-sbable  from  the  Jerusalem 
road. 

For  a  moment  we  thought  of  halting  hatf-way  up  the 
hill  to  breakfast.  Wo  were  protected  there  from  tho 
southerly  wind,  which  was  still  iucrcasing,  and  a  small 


EHAK  OF  flAOUIJEH. 


108 


Spring,  unrortunatcly  not  abundant  enough  to  water  our 
horses,  seemed  to  invite  us  to  stop.  But  tJie  morning 
■was  »tJU  early  ;  and  we  knew  by  experience  how  much 
is  gained  in  travelling,  by  marching  as  for  as  possible 
before  breakfast :  so  we  pushed  on,  after  haviDg  decided 
not  to  halt  before  reaching  the  Khan-es-SaouIjeh,  where 
we  were  assured  wo  should  arrive  in  less  than  an  hour, 
ajid  find  water  suflicient  for  all  our  necessities. 

The  tablw-land,  on  the  top  of  which  we  have  arrived, 
is  rci-j*  stony  and  difficull  of  passage,  but  of  no  great 
length.  Half  nn  Iiour  later  wo  descend  again,  and  pass 
through  a  pretty,  well-cultivated  dale,  watered  by  a 
modest  little  rivulet.  To  the  led,  we  leave  on  the 
declivity  of  the  hill  we  have  just  passed,  the  village  of 
Yitma,*  and  opposite  to  this  village,  on  the  hill  facing  it, 
the  village  of  Koubalan.  We  climb  again  over  a  small 
range  of  low  hills,  and  reach  at  last  the  loug-wishcd-for 
khau.  The  Khan-es-Saotiijeh  is  bnilt  on  a  very  small 
plain ;  in  front  of  it,  and  a  few  hundred  yards  to  our 
right,  some  ruins  ai'e  visible,  which  seem  to  bebng  to  tho 
BoDian  period. 

We  had  hoped  to  arrive  at  a  real  kliau ;  but  we  find 
only  a  mass  of  ruins.  Four  walls  of  large  stones,  half  of 
them  crumble<l  down, — such  is  the  Khan  of  Saouijcli. 
We  trj'  to  shelter  oursulvos  behind  its  walls ;  our  cook 
instals  himself,  and  produces  some  hard-boiled  eggs ; 
add  to  these  a  half-starved  fowl,  mildewed  bread,  and 
vrino  wliich,  from  having  been  too  much  sliaken,  looks 


*  Wvnod  in  tlio  iMoiid  book  of  Kincpi,  kiL  IS.  thst  the  ataiv  of  tha  mothor 
,>ati  of  MAiJuiartir  wuf  M(tAliiilti<iii«tli,  ilHJj){!itur  nf  linruE  of  Jotb^h, 
f  oUicr  indifiitioD.  I  am  much  inclined  to  think  Ihut  tliui  blhlic«l 
hxalitj  miut  bo  iitenlifiiKl  wrlli  th«  ni'xtnrti  Yitma ;  for  tbn  Hound  of  the  m  and  b 
tatoo  mucb  wtlk*  Ui  tllo*  of  itny  diRttraacit  Iwlwoun  tho  two  uudm  JiMitpLus 
ghrM  to  tliit  •uno  loialitf  tk>  luiue  of  tifiirii. 


IM 


LBDOSAIL— 8HIU)B. 


like  mod,  and  oar  brcjikfast  is  before  you.  It  our^ 
readily  sufiposed  that  such  a  feast  was  quickly  despatelie 
and  we  were  soon  again  io  the  saddle.  A  quarter  of  an.' 
Iiour  later  we  cross  another  rallcy,  conuoaiidcd  to  tho 
right  by  the  village  of  Loubban,  and  at  the  bottom  of 
which  is  an  abundant  spring,  close  to  the  ruins  of  an 
ancient  khan,  called  Kbaji-el-Loubban.  Mauudrell  was 
tlio  first  to  recognise,  in  the  village  of  Tyoiibban,  the 
Lebonah  of  the  Scriptures.  The  village  of  Shiloh,  accord- 
ing to  the  Bible  (Judges  xxL  19),  was  northward  of 
Bctli-el,  and  southward  of  Lebonah.  This  description  is 
quite  exact ;  for  Bcitin,  which  has  taken  the  place  of 
Both-cl,  is  exactly  south  of  Scilouu,  which  is  to  the  south- 
east of  I^ubbfui. 

To  get  out  of  the  Ouad-el-Loubban,  we  begin  climbing 
the  mountains  of  Juda>a,  which  we  shall  leave  no  more 
until  we  reach  Jerusalem.  Arrived  at  the  sunmiit,  we 
discover  to  the  left  the  village  of  Seiloun  :  this  is  Shiloh, 
the  celebrated  place  where  the  tabernacle  and  iJie  Ark 
of  the  Covenant  were  established.  Josephus  writes  the 
name  StAoDn,  precisely  as  its  iuluibitatits  pronouuco  it 
at  tills  very  day.  It  is  now  a  poor  village  of  no  im- 
portance. 

We  next  descend  into  a  fertile  valley,  and  perceive  on ' 
the  declivity  oi)pi)sito  the  two  villages  of  Scndjil  and 
Tourraous-Aya,*  between  which  we  pass.  They  are 
scarcely  distant  from  each  other  more  than  a  mile.  At 
first,  one  might  bo  tempted  to  find  in  Tourntous-Aya  a 
very  important  biblical  locality  often  mentioned  in  the 
holy  Scrij'turos.  I  allude  to  AL  But  several  very  dis- 
tinct texts  forbid  the  ideuttficatioQ  :  for  instance,  among 

*  Tominaiu  m«aiw  •  Tdni  ur  pulra  (LnplDu). 


di 


THE  THIEVES    VALLEy.^BUlKBD  OSTEHSS. 


105 


others,  in  Genesis  (xii.  8),  we  read  t)mt  Hcth-el  was 
situated  westward,  and  Ai  eastward.  This  description 
cannot  be  made  to  tally  in  any  way  witli  the  respective 
positions  of  Toumiotis-Aya  and  Iteitin ;  as  the  6rst  of 
these  two  villages  is  nearly  exactly  north  of  the  second, 
and  ahont  four  leagues  distant.  Any  assimilation,  tJiere- 
fore,  between  Ai  and  Touniious-Aya  would  bo  more  than 
doubtiiil. 

When  we  are  nearly  opposite  Sendjil,  the  sun  begins  to 
decline,  and  we  have  not  yet  accomplished  two-thirds  of 
our  day's  march.  Besides,  the  wind  continues  blowing, 
and  we  have  it  full  in  the  face,  which  is  very  fatiguing. 
Half  aa  hour  later,  we  leave  on  our  right  the  village  of 
Ras-Abou-Kesh  ;  then  we  pass  between  the  two  villages 
of  Yebroud  and  Selowad,  not  far  distant  fi-om  each  other  ; 
we  move  along  the  creat  of  the  vale,  iu  whicli  arc  the 
cultivated  grounds  of  Yebroud,  and  we  descry  fi-om  above 
a  kind  of  well  in  front  of  the  habitationfl,  bearing  the  name 
of  Ain-Yebroud.  Descending  next  from  tlic  hoightji,  we 
wind  along  the  hill,  on  the  side  of  which  is  built  Setouad ; 
and  we  enter  a  narrow  pas.'f,  well  wooded  with  olive 
trees,  with  a  somewhat  suspicious  name,  that  of  Ouad-el- 
Haramyeh,  or  the  thieves*  valley.  The  road  here  becomes 
very  bad ;  some  portions  have  been  swept  away  by  the 
rains,  and  we  arc  obliged  to  he  very  carefiU  lest  we  should 
break  our  horses'  legs  and  our  own. 

In  alwut  an  hour  we  arrive  at  some  inconsiderable 
Bprings,  dropping  from  the  vertical  rocks  which  line  the 
right  side  of  the  valley  ;  they  form  the  Ain-el-IIaramyeh. 
Here  are  two  mined  cisterns  of  fine  ancient  workniaitship, 
hut  without  a  single  drop  of  water  in  cither.  They  arc, 
1  think,  of  lloman  construction,  and  close  to  the  border 


A   DAKE   RIDE   tS   THX   RAIK. 


of  the  ancient  roaJ,  which  wc  hare  followed  throughout 
tlie  day. 

Towards  the  southern  extrcniitj,  after  haring  passed 
the  Ain-el-Ilaramyeh  and  the  cisterns,  the  valley  widens 
a  little,  and  wo  discover  right  aud  left,  but  principally  to 
the  right,  some  line  sepulcliral  exca\'ations,  dating  most 
certainly  from  a  very  ancient  period.  In  outward  appear- 
ance they  rusemlle  those  of  the  uecropoliBcs  we  have 
already  seen.  Unfortunately,  we  have  no  leisure  to 
examine  them.  Night  is  coming  on  rapidly,  and  wo  are 
still  very  far  from  El-Bireh. 

The  Ouad-el-1  laraniyeh  opens  abruptly  into  a  mucli 
larger  valley,  planted  with  magnificent  olive-trees,  and 
leading  to  the  villaf^e  of  El-Tayebeh.  After  having 
adranced  some  four  or  fire  hundred  yards,  we  enter  a 
new  defile  not  quite  so  naiTow  as  the  Ouiid-el-Haraniyoh, 
but  commanded  by  rocks  admirably  disposed  for  an 
ambuscade  of  the  kind  of  gentry  who  have  given  tlieir 
name  to  tlio  country.  This  dcfdo  is  in  tlio  same  direction 
as  the  otlier  one,  and  deeply  hollowed,  being  tJie  bed  of  a 
torrent  now  dry. 

This  bod  of  a  torrent  forms  the  high  road ;  and  a 
scrambling,  sandy,  difticult  roa<l  it  is,  with  tliis  variation 
only,  that  the  word  sandy  should  often  be  changed  into 
rocky.  Whilst  we  are  trying  hard  to  scale  it,  rain  comes 
on  as  a  fresh  comfort  to  reinforce  the  wind  I  A  Uttle  rain 
will  subdue  a  great  wbid,  says  the  proverbial  wisdom 
of  nations ;  a  gentle  rain  in  this  country  is  esceeJinglj 
like  a  heavy  squall  in  France ;  but,  fortunately,  it  soon 
passes  over.  Darkness  'is  of  longer  duration  ;  for  night 
has  closed  in  quite  black,  and  tbe  bust  we  can  do  now  is 
to  give  the  rein  to  our  horses,  trusting  to  fortune  and 


ARKtVAt,   AT   RI.-BIBBH. 


107 


ihcir  instinct.  We  can  scarcely  see  two  steps  before 
U8,  and  find  it  very  dilTicult  to  keep  together.  When  wo 
have  gained  tlie  summit  of  the  pass,  we  move  on  as  rapidly 
as  we  can,  over  flat  and  slippery  rocks.  There  is  no  sigu 
of  vegetable  earth. 

As  we  proceed  onwards,  and  whilst  I  am  shivering  in 
my  great-coat,  and  endeavouring  to  screen  myself  as 
much  as  possible  from  the  cutting  wind,  Moliammod 
informs  u,s  that  wo  are  opposite  Beitin.  AnoUier  half- 
hour  wears  away,  and  we  find  ourselves  at  last  before  a 
iafge  stone  shed,  which  proves  to  be  one  of  tlie  houses  of 
El-Bireb. 

Thank  Hearen  we  have  arrived  at  !ast  I  But  wo  are 
worn  out  with  cold,  bniiscs,  fatigue,  and  want  of  sleep. 
We  have  been  ou  lioi-scback  Iwolre  long  iiours,  exposed 
to  wind  and  rain,  and  might  feel  tired  with  less  hardsbip. 
As  soon  as  we  have  alighted  we  are  introduced  to  our 
new  resting-place.  Wlint  a  horrible  den ! — Imagine  a 
muddy  corridor,  six  feet  long  by  three  feet  broad,  without 
any  Ugbt.  Do  they  pretend  to  lodge  us  here  1  With 
the  most  accommodating  disposition  it  would  be  perfectly 
impossible,  unless  we  were  made  to  lie  in  a  heap.  "  Up- 
stairs, sir,"  says  Andre,  "  please  to  go  up."  Go  up  I  it 
is  eadly  said  ;  but  how.  and  which  way  1  Our  dragoman 
then  makes  us  feci  in  the  dark  three  stones  sticking  out 
of  the  right-hand  wall,  in  an  oblitjue  line,  and  three  feet 
distant  from  each  other.  "  Tlus  is  the  staircase,"  says  he, 
Well ;  we  are  much  obliged  to  you,  and  up  we  climb  one 
after  the  other. 

Arrived  at  the  top  of  the  wall,  which  we  had  taken 
for  a  simple  partition,  we  find  a  bam-floor  made  of 
beaten  clay,  with  the  house-roof  for  ceiling ;  and  such  a 


lOS 


IKTBRIOR   EOOKOHT  OF   k   KHAN. 


roof! — actual  trellis  work — Uirougb  wliich  the  wmd 
exercises  its  right  of  eiitrj,  &s  id  all  respectable  Arab 
mansions.  Another  little  platform  in  a  comer,  placed 
above,  nearly  as  largo  as  the  corridor  at  the  bottom  of 
the  staircase,  and  raised  two  feet  abore  the  level  of  our 
apartment,  in  used  as  a  bed-room  by  tlic  ladies  of  the 
house.  They  are  sfjuattiiig  there  with  their  lord  and 
master,  and  two  or  three  invited  fi-ien<l8  from  the  neij^h- 
bourhood.  One  of  these,  a  Christian  of  the  village  of 
Ram-Alhih,  possesses  a  pair  of  eyes  which  I  shall  never 
forget.  Evidently  they  remain  within  the  sockets  merely 
from  habit.  Three  immense  jugs  or  chests  of  dried  clay, 
serving  cither  for  clothes-presses  or  corn-bins,  garnish 
the  sides  of  the  two  momij.  We  have  just  space  enough 
to  lay  our  beds  side  by  side,  the  one  encroaching  upon 
the  other.  If  there  is  not  the  shadow  of  a  chair,  there 
u  at  lea.st  a  log  of  wood  upon  the  fire,  whicli  makes  a 
show  of  burning,  but  smokes  enough  to  choke  us  all. 
A  little  iron  lamp,  thrust  into  a  hole  in  the  wall,  completes 
tlie  furniture. 

It  is  half-past  nine  o'clock,  so  we  may  be  permitted  to 
be  hungry,  but  it  recpiircs  some  time  to  cook  our  repast. 
It  is  quite  impossible  to  lay  out  our  beds  at  the  same  timo 
with  our  table  and  canvas  stools  ;  and  as  long  as  our  meal 
is  uudisposed  of,  we  must  be  content  to  squat  or  stand  as 
best  we  may,  at  our  own  preference.  We  prefer  putting 
up  and  taking  down  alternately  such  portions  of  our  fur- 
niture as  may  suit  the  wants  of  the  moment,  The  canvas 
stools,  the  table,  and  two  beds  out  of  seven  ai-e  arranged ; 
the  bales  enclosing  the  remainder  act  a.s  chairs  in  the 
meantime  ;  and  as  we  clearly  understand  it  would  be  but 
knocking  our  heads  against  the  wall  to  tliink  of  bettering 


A  SOIKKE  IN   A   KHAN. 


I0» 


ourselves,  we  make  up  our  minds  to  bear  with  what  accom- 
iiio<latioii  wo  have.  We  sit  down  anywhere,  and  smoke 
or  sleep  whilst  our  dinner  is  getting  ready. 

I  take  advantage  of  the  opportunity  to  speak  Arabic, 
presenting  myself  alone  to  the  society  of  the  ladies' 
elemifd  drawing-room,  and  the  conversation  begins.  The 
niao  with  the  huge  oyos  aj)ks  me  to  teach  bim  French  :  I 
give  him  a  few  words  ami  phrases  which  lie  pronounces 
tolerably,  after  having  been  told  three  times,  and  an  hour 
slips  away  in  tliis  manner  before  our  long-expected  dinner 
makes  its  appearance.  Constantino,  'who  begins  to  have 
some  misgivings  as  to  our  good  humour,  baa  concocted  for 
IIS  even  worse  poisons  than  usual,  and  it  is  near  midnight 
before  we  can  scramble  into  our  beds,  passing  over  each 
other's  bodies,  at  the  risk  of  disarranging  all  our  furniture, 
^'eariness  w  a  fine  specific  for  a  good  night's  rest.  We  are 
en  up  with  vermin,  and  notwithstanding,  until  daylight 
returns,  not  one  of  us  has  moved  a  limb  from  the  positiuu 
in  which  he  has  fallen  asleep  ! 

DrtraUT  2Srd. 

The  day  arrives  at  last  on  whicli  wo  expect  to  roach 
Jerusalem.  We  are  all  up  with  the  dawn  ;  the  Abbe  runs 
to  visit  the  ruina  of  a  Clu-istian  church  of  the  period  of  the 
Crusades,  and  I  hasten  to  examine  some  ancient  cisterns 
which  have  certainly  given  their  name  to  the  village, 
Ei-Bireh.  It  is  the  Bccroth  of  the  Bible,  a  town  of  the 
Gibeonitcs  (Jcrahua  ix.  1 7),  whicli  became  afterwards  one 
of  the  cities  of  the  tribe  of  Benjamin  (2  Samuel  iv.  2). 
And  so  indeed,  St.  Jerome  tolls  us  in  the  Onomasticon. 
"Beerotli  sub  colle  Gabaon,  ostenditur  hodiequo  villa 
ab  j'Klia  pergentibus  Neapolim  in  scptimo  lapide."  As 
to  tliia  hlU  of  Gabaon,  it  is  (according  to  St.  Jerome's 


no 


METBOPDLIS  OF  TBB  OIBBOKITIK. 


atotwmnt)  near  Bama,  anil  tliore  is  really  now  on  the  spot 
a  village  called  Djeba.  Is  it  the  ancient  capital  of  the 
Gibeonites,  th<;  Gibeah  of  the  Hook  of  Judges  (xix.  13.), 
called  also  Gibbethou  in  the  Book  of  Joshua  (xxi.  23.)  1 
Since  St.  Jerome,  who  van  so  perfectly  well  acquainted 
with  all  the  Holy  Land,  places  Gahaon  near  lUma,  it 
scenu)  to  me  there  t^ati  be  no  doubt  an  to  thia  identity. 

The  map  of  Syria  by  2immermann  places  a  village 
called  EI-I)jib  at  the  distance  of  a  league  to  the  wost  of 
Rhouraib-er- Ram,  and  he  recognises  in  it  the  Gibeon  of 
the  Scriptures,  which  he  distinguishes  from  Gibeah.  I 
know  not  whether  this  village  of  El-Djib  really  exists,  but 
at  all  cvcuts,  in  accordance  with  St  Jerome,  1  prefer 
looking  for  the  metropolis  of  tlie  Giboonitea  on  tlie  site 
of  Djeba. 

Our  readers  will  romombcr  the  deceit  ^^■hich  the 
CKbcouitca  made  use  of  to  avoid  the  terrible  consequences 
of  the  Judaic  conquest  (Josliua  ix).  The  inhabitants  of 
Jericho  and  Ai  had  just  been  exterminated ;  all  the 
generation  of  the  Canaanites  was  threatened  with  the 
same  fate.  The  Gibeonites,  belonging  to  that  race,  con- 
cocted a  stratagem  to  get  out  of  this  cntel  dilenuna. 
Messengers  chosen  from  among  the  inhahitants  of  Gibeon, 
Beeroth.  Chcpliirali  and  ICirjathjearim,  came  and  presented 
themselves  to  Joshua.  "  We  ai"e  not  Canaauites,"  they 
Kud ;  "  and  we  reside  so  far  from  this  place  that  our 
clothes  and  our  shoes  are  worn  out  with  the  journey.  See 
in  what  a  state  they  are  ;  they  were  new  when  we  left 
our  own  country.  Look  at  our  bread;  it  is  dry  and 
mouldy;  it  was  fresh  wlicu  wo  brought  it  from  home. 
We  come  to  offer  you  the  alliance  of  our  people  who  have 
nothing  in  common  with  the  Canaanites.    Give  ua  your 


JOSHUA,  Utn^   AKD  TOE  OIBSOKITKa  111 

londship  in  return  for  ours!"  Joshua  (who  probably 
was  not  very  well  acquainted  with  the  topography  of  tijo 
country  he  was  scut  to  conquer),  and  the  htgh-priosc 
Eleazar,  allowed  tbcmselres  to  be  dooeired  by  thU  auda- 
cious fraud,  80  hke  the  arts  of  the  Dodouinii.  The  treaty 
of  alliance  was  made  and  sworn  to,  and  the  Gibeonitcs 
were  sparetl  for  the  time  being.  They  were  even  saved 
stiortly  afler^va^ds  by  Joshua  from  the  attack  which  the 
king  of  Jerusalem  and  the  other  kings  of  the  neighbour- 
hood made  upon  them,  as  a  punishment  for  having  entered 
into  a  treaty  with  the  common  enemy.  Joshua,  hanng 
been  summoned  to  the  assistance  of  his  new  allien,  felt 
suddenly  upon  the  kings  of  Canaan,  routed  tliom  and 
pursued  them  sn'ord  in  hand,  through  the  valleys  as  far 
aa  Betliora,'  according  to  Josephus  (Ant.  Jud.  v.  1 — 17. 
At  a  later  period,  Saul,  notwithstanding  the  plighted  faith, 
ravaged  the  country  of  the  Giboonitcs,  and  caused  them 
such  ruin,  that  David,  to  obey  the  prophets  who  threatened 
him  with  the  vengeance  of  the  Almighty,  if  ho  did  not  give 
Satisfaction  to  the  nation  which  Saul  had  treacherously 
attacked,  was  obliged  to  surrender  seven  men  of  Saul's 
family,  required  by  the  Giboonitcs  to  bo  placed  at  their 
mercy.  The  sevea  unfortunate  victims  were  delivered 
over  to  them  and  put  to  death  accordingly. 

After  my  short  morning's  walk,  I  return  to  the  khan, 
and  find  everybody  ready  to  start.  According  to  our  daily 
custom,  before  mounting  our  horses,  we  take  a  basin  of 
soup  and  a  cup  of  coffee,  after  which  we  smoke  a  chibouk. 
The  unlucky  Constantino,  who  begins  to  look  on  us  with 
perfect  disgust  (which  we  amply  return  whenever  we  think 
of  bis  cookery),  hands  us  some  coffee  flavoured  witli  oil. 

*  B«tU-lianin  (J<«li.  I.  30). 


in 


COFFER  AND  OIL. — ATABOTH. 


We  are  not  accustomed  to  this  whimsical  beverage,  and 
compel  him  to  change  his  mixture  ;  but  the  nccotid  Ih  still 
more  oily  than  the  first,  and  ouc  of  our  cups  ia  uuccre- 
moDiously  emptied  into  the  fiice  of  the  coutumacious  cook, 
who  begins  to  suspect  from  tliis  moment  that  his  sitiuttJoo 
of  purveyor-general  is  beginning  to  totter.  This  time  wo 
go  without  coffee,  and  resume  our  march. 

JJoforo  us,  mounted  on  a.  jncksss,  is  a  fat  man  in 
European  costume,  who  since  yesterday  keeps  aa  near  as 
possible  to  our  caravan.  "We  are  told  ho  is  an  inhabitant 
of  the  Tiboriad,  going  to  Jerusalem  on  private  business. 
Wc  encountered  him  again  some  time  after,  and  exchanged 
agi-eeable  intercourse,  whicli  1  shall  mention  in  the  proper 
place. 

On  leaving  EI-Bireh,  the  road  descends  through  fertile 
lands  and  enters  into  a  narrow  valley  bounded  by  rocks, 
called  the  Ouad-Atara.  Some  ancient  ruins  are  visible  at 
the  entrance  and  the  egress  of  tliis  defile,  resembling 
fortified  posts  erected  to  defend  the  pass.  This  time 
again  there  is  no  mistaking  the  identity.  The  modem 
name  Atara  lias  taken  the  place  of  the  biblical  name, 
Ataroth,  one  of  the  stations  on  the  southern  frontier 
of  the  tribe  of  Ephraim,  close  to  the  territory  of  tho 
tribe  of  Benjamin  {Josh.  xvi.  5,  7;  xviii.  13;  and 
xxi.  IS). 

The  Ouad-Atara  is  not  mucli  more  than  two  thousand 
yards  in  Icngtli ;  on  emei^ing  from  it  we  leave  to  our 
right  tho  village  of  Rafat  ;  then,  on  a  summit  further  off, 
and  separated  from  tho  first  by  another  mountain,  is  a 
MiiHHulman  oualy,  called  Nebbi-Samouil.  I  do  not  know 
to  what  biblical  locality  Itafat  may  liave  8ucceedc<I. 
From  this  spot  the  ancient  paved  road  is  recognisable  by 


RR-HAM,    THE    BlIil.ICAl,    lUMA. 


lU 


most  evident  signs,  wtiicli  continue  to  show  themselves  nil 
the  way  to  Jerusalem. 

We  soon  rcBcli  the  placo  called  Kr-Rani.  Tliia  is  a 
small  bill,  OH  the  summit  of  which  arc  some  shapeless 
ruiiis.  Od  the  site  of  this  hill,  along  the  old  road,  the 
rocks  present  numerous  marks  of  ancient  constructions, 
such  as  square  areas  and  staii-s.  A  little  further  on,  aad 
to  the  right  of  the  road,  arc  other  ruins  evidently  of  a 
more  modern  origin,  and  among  them  may  be  easily 
distinguished,  hy  some  r(!Uiaina  of  pointed  arches,  a  largo 
structwe  of  the  middle  ages.  Is  it  the  castle  of  tlie  Sires 
de  /tames  f  is  it  an  Arab  khan  ? — this  is  very  difficult  to 
decide.  One  thing  is  certain,  that  this  structure  l)ears 
the  very  significant  name  of  Kliouraib-er-Ram  (the  little 
ruin  of  Kr-Ram).  Uamah  was  a  town  of  the  tribe  of 
Benjaouu  (Jo&li.  xviii.  25),  and  we  read  in  Judges 
(xix.  13),  "Let  tiB  draw  near  to  one  of  these  places,  to 
lodge  all  night  in  Gibeah  or  in  Kamah."  '  The  hill  of 
Rr-Ram  is  most  certainly  the  site  of  the  biblical  Ramali, 
and  the  village  of  Djeba  ts  close  at  hand.  The  scriptural 
text  wliich  I  have  just  quoted  is  then  quite  clear  by 
itself. 

Proceeding  on  our  march  we  leave,  distant  about 
fourteen  furlongs  to  our  right,  the  village  of  Bcit-Haiiouii, 
opposite  to  which,  to  our  left,  and  only  a  few  hundred 
yards  distant  from  our  road,  is  a  reguliir  mound  of  no 
great  extent  covered  with  ancient  rubbish :  it  is  called 
Telel-Foul  (the  hillock  of  the  bean). 

From  iJiis  spot  we  discover  afnr  off,  on  an  eminence 
to  the  right,  the  village  of  Beit-Hour-el-Fougah.  West- 
ward of  this  I  am  told  by  Mohammed  there  is  a  second 
village  called  Beit-lIour-et-Taltah.     It  would  be  difficult 


IH 


nan  tilOHT  op  JERUitALEU. 


not  to  recognise  in  Uiesc  two  villages  the  two  biblical 
towns  of  Betli-horon,  the  one  called  tlie  upper,  the  other 
the  lower,  wliicli  n-ero  on  tlio  ccHifinM  of  the  tribes  of 
Ephrftim  and  Beujamin  (Josh,  xvi,  5  ;  1  Chron.  vii.  24  ; 
and  2  Chron.  xxt.  13).  Koth-Iiorou  (Josh.  xxi.  22)  was 
given  to  the  Levites.  I  consider  it  extremely  probable 
thai  the  locality  called  by  Josephiui.  Bethora  {Bfuffaipa), 
and  up  to  ^liich  .]o.shua  pursueil  the  Caiiaanitc  kings 
who  had  attacked  t]ic  Gibconitcs,  Is  no  otlicr  than  oar 
Beit-Houi'Hjt-Tattah. 

Afler  hanng  passed  in  front  of  the  village  of  Kalounyeb, 
Ti^hle  to  our  right,  we  arrive  at  the  foot  of  a  liillock  on 
Trhich  stands  tlie  village  of  Schafat.  This  village  has 
the  appearance  of  a  castle  of  Oio  middle  ages  witli  a 
square  keep.  Wc  pay  little  atleutiou  to  it,  as  our  minds 
are  otherwise  employed.  In  our  front,  beyond  some  hills 
of  no  great  height,  a  plain  spreads  out  covered  with  olire 
trees,  and  frem  this  giove  of  oUvo  trees  rise  niajestieally 
tlic  domes  and  minarets  of  Jerusalem.  In  an  instant  our 
tarboushes  are  lifted  from  our  foreheads,  and  every  one  of 
us  salutes  the  holy  city.  A  cry  of  joy  and  admiration 
bursts  from  our  hearts,  and  a  deep  sentiment  of  emotion 
pervades  the  whole  party. 

From  this  point  our  march  considerably  quickened, 
and  we  passed  rapidly  tlie  walls  of  El-Qods.  But  I 
must  delay  a  moment  to  say  a  few  words  of  this  village  of 
Schafat. 

Alexander  Imd  taken  Tyre  after  a  seven  months'  siege. 
Gaza,  after  resisting  for  two  months  the  Macedonian  hero, 
fell  in  turn  before  his  victorious  arm».  From  Gaza, 
Alexander  determined  to  march  on  Jerusalem.  The 
high-priest>  Jaddos,  on  hearing  this  terrible  news,  orders 


ALEXANUEB   AUli    illE    IIHJIl    PRIKST    JADDfS. 


115 


public  pravcra  to  be  oflcred  up,  to  avert  the  ruin 
impending  over  the  city  of  David.  During  Uie  night  the 
Lonl  appoarii  to  him  in  a  dream,  telU  him  to  bauish  alt 
fear,  to  open  thu  city  gates  and  to  proceed  to  meet 
Alexander  with  ail  the  pomp  of  religious  ceremony.  The 
pontifF  tiking  courage  again,  hastens  to  obey  the  com- 
mands of  God,  and  when  he  hears  that  the  Jtacedonian 
army  is  di-awing  near  the  city,  he  goes  forth  with  the 
gorgeous  retinue  which  he  has  marsliallod  lu  order,  and 
advances  Jia  far  as  the  place  called  Sapha.  This  word 
translated  into  Greek,  Sxim;,  means  an  eminence,  '*  a  place 
from  which  one  may  see  at  a  distance,"  as  Joscphus  adds; 
from  this  point  Jerusalem  and  the  Temple  are  distinctly 
visible. 

The  Phrenicians  aiul  Chatdciins  who  formed  a  portion 
of  Alcxiuider's  army,  were  already  rejoicing  in  imagina- 
tion at  the  sack  of  the  town  and  the  death  of  the 
high-priest.  But  it  pleased  God  to  disappoint  their 
hopes :  for  Alexander  perceiving  from  a  distance  this 
multitude  of  men  in  wliitc  robes,  headed  by  their  priests 
in  linen  tunics,  and  by  the  high-priest  with  a  violet  gown 
embroidered  wit]i  gold,  and  wearing  on  hLs  head  the 
pontifical  tiara,  ornamented  with  the  golden  plate,  upon 
which  was  engraved  the  name  of  Jehovah, — -Alexander 
halted  his  army,  advanced  alone  to  meet  the  procession, 
adored  the  holy  name  of  t!ie  Most  High,  and  was  the  first 
to  bend  the  knee  before  the  poutiU'.  Then  all  the  people 
of  Jerusalem  sun-ounded  Alexander  and  shouted  forth 
his  praise  with  one  voice ;  and  the  kings  and  generals 
who  followed  him  thought  that  be  was  stricken  with 
madness,  when  they  saw  him  accept  this  homage  with  a 
satisfied  and  courteous  demeanour. 


116 


VILLAGE  OF  SCHAFAT. 


Farmciiio  was  the  oidy  one  who  ventured  to  question 
his  master,  aiid  to  ask  tiiiu  bow  he  could  liavc  thought  of 
bowing  himself  down  before  the  hisli-priest  of  the  Jews. 
Alexftadcr  auswcrcd  that  lie  had  not  adored  the  man,  but 
the  God,  whoee  minister  he  was  ;  that  he  had  recognised 
in  biiii  a  mysterious  being  who  bad  appeared  to  him  in  a 
dream  and  promised  him  that  he  should  achieve  the  c<Hi- 
quest  of  all  Asia,  overthrowing  the  empire  of  Darius ; 
and  tliat  in  conseiiuenco  lie  could  no  longer  doubt  the 
triumph  of  his  arms.  Taking  the  pontiff  by  the  hand, 
Alexander  walked  towards  Jerusalem,  went  to  the  temple 
and  ofl'cred  there  a  sacrifice  according  to  the  Judaic  rites. 
The  next  day  Alexander  convoked  the  high-priest  and 
the  people,  and  aaked  tliem  what  boon  they  wished  to 
obtain  fi-om  him.  Jaddus  replied  that  they  only  wislicd 
for  permission  to  preserve  the  cualoma  of  their  Cithers, 
and  to  be  exempt  from  tribute  every  seventh  year. 
Both  these  demands  were  granted-  Shortly  allerwarda 
Alexander  went  away  fi-om  Jerusalem,  taking  along  with 
him  a  number  of  Juws  who  had  etdistcd  in  his  army, 
to  march  against  the  Persians.  (Joseph.  AnL  Jud.  xi, 
viii.  5.) 

The  place  of  the  meeting  between  Alexander  and  the 
high-priest  JadduH,  is  the  very  spot  where  we  halted  to 
salute  for  the  first  time  the  city  of  the  Lord.  Now,  as  in 
days  of  yore,  Schafat  means  an  emiueuce,  a  place  from 
which  one  may  see  at  a  distance ;  and  this  designation 
if)  as  correct  at  the  present  day,  as  it  was  twenty-two 
centuries  ago.** 


*  Id  A»bio  kJUf  (tbii/)  mtua  to  mm.  nrnl  timl,  uhafat)  luinmit  of  a  kill.  In 
Uabi«*  tti«  ii«Treapon<liu)(  wonl  moani,  heat  minrni,  c^lU  planuM.  But  vbat  is 
ni^«r  eurinu*.  ia  U>  fiml  tli«  two  On«k  wni^i  3>oi'iiW  ii'id  2«nr4  in  lli*  i 
DorrvlatiuD  with  (wi^h  other  u  tho  two  Arabic  uronli  nlxirt-mmtic^ied. 


BNTRANCE   INTO  JKRITflALKH. 


117 


Bofore  nyon  we  had  passed  through  tiio  plain,  well 
planted  with  olive  trees,  which  lay  between  us  atid  the 
walls  of  Jerusalem.  Following  the  stony  i-owl  which 
Jfiads  from  the  last  hills  to  the  Bab-el-A'araoiid,  or  Bab- 
^Sk-Chani,  that  is  to  the  gate  leading  to  Damascus,  and 
leaving  to  our  left  the  tombs  of  the  Kings,  wc  had  at 
last  reached  tliis  gate.  But  inntead  of  imssing  immediately 
through  it,  our  moukris  led  us  all  along  the  whole  line 
of  walls  from  the  Bah-es-Cham  to  the  Bab.el-lChalil  or 
llebron  gate.  So  hy  this  last-iiaiued  cutrauce.  passing 
before  David's  tower,  and  the  castle  of  the  Pisans,  we 
finally  entered  JeniKalom.* 

Some  friends  had  recommended  to  us  the  Hotel  of 
Palmyra,  kept  by  Stefano  Ban.  As  it  is  situated  near 
the  Damascus  gate,  we  proceeded  there  at  once,  and  found 
we  had  to  pass  again  through  tJie  streets  the  whole  dis- 
tance which  wc  had  already  travt-rsed  to  no  purpose.  On 
reaching  the  hotel  wc  find  the  host  absent  on  a  journey, 
his  wife  sick,  and  no  lodgings  at  our  disposal.  Luckily 
the  factotum  of  another  inn,  kept  by  an  Englishman, 
named  Meshulam.  comes  running  to  us,  and  entreats  us 
to  slight  at  his  master's  house.  As  we  were  cjuite  at  a 
toss  what  to  do,  we  thought  ourselves  fortunate  in  tliis 
unlooked-for  rencontre.  Besides,  the  house  is  not  far 
from  ihe  French  consulate,  where,  of  course,  wc  slmll 
often  Iiare  occasion  to  go.  Everything  appears  for  the 
best,  and  half-an-hour  afterwards  we  wore  duly  installed 
in  our  new  quarters. 

Let    me    now  mention    the    first    impression   which 


*  llappaara  Ui«t  pMpU  w«  klloirMl  t«  riil*  out  bj  tli«T>*iow«u«B*t*;  but  to 
bJ*  tu  lb«f  Eiiiut  chuoH  Itis  Hchroii  xitruicc ;  thii  ii  owluc  to  wnno  ijiunbiliac 
fbnoalitwa. 


118 


riROT  lurBEastoNs  op  thk  holy  city. 


Jenisalem  produced  upon  me.  The  walU  built  by  the 
TtirLn  are  of  a  very  impoang  but  melancholy  aspect. 
The  filrcets  arc  narrow,  filthy  and  loathsome,  as  they  are 
in  all  oriental  towns ;  tlie  vaulted  roofs  which  nsuAlly  . 
coTer  them  over  produce  in  these  narrow  passages  a 
dampness  and  a  stench  exceedingly  disagreeable ;  and 
lastly,  the  pavement  in  dreadfully  out  of  order,  so  that 
people  run  the  risk  at  every  step  of  breaking  their  horses' 
le^  or  their  own  necks,  So  mnch  for  the  physical  im- 
pression. As  to  the  moral  effect,  that  is  quite  a  ilifferent 
aflair :  we  are  in  Jerusalem.  BvePi'thing  is  compri.%d  in 
thai  word. 

As  soon  as  we  are  establisbcti  at  Hr.  ^leshulam'ri;  where 
we  encounter  Mr.  Giiatavus  de  Rothschild  (who  has  just 
travrllcd  all  through  Syria  proper,  and  with  whom 
Edward  renews  an  aoquaintauce  which  began  in  their 
childhood),  I  run  to  risit  our  consul.  Our  consul  is 
M.  Botta.  the  same  who  had  the  good  fortune  to  discover 
the  wonderful  ruins  of  Nineveh,  M.  liotta  my  fellow 
member  iu  the  Academy  of  Inscriptions  luid  Itelles 
Lettres,  M.  Botta  whom  I  lore  with  all  my  heart,  and 
who,  I  hope,  rctunis  a  little  of  tliat  attachment. 
We  M\  upon  each  other's  nock.  In  five  minutes  we 
speak  of  France,  our  common  friends,  politics,  anti- 
quities, travels,  every  subject  that  comes  upp^nnost.  On 
both  sides  it  is  a  perfect  hailstorm  of  questions  and 
answera. 

[  inquired  if  any  letters  bad  airivcd  for  iis.  But  we 
must  have  patience  ;  the  Beyrout  itteamer  is  detained  at 
.\Iexaiidri.i  from  some  accidtnit  to  her  cugine.  and  our 
despaiche-s  liave  been  delayed  in  consequence.  SI,  Botta, 
who  had  expected  us,  invites  Edwaid  .and  myself  to  dine 


ITS  oeseralTCw 


119 


vith  htm  that  ver^'  day  in  company  \^itti  M.  Pizzatnano, 
the  Aiuttrian  contnil,  and  another  consul  who  is  about  to 
leave  Jerusalem.  As  it  is  scarcely  proper  to  be  preseuted 
I ,  to  consuls  ill  the  outre  costume  wo  have  adopted  for  the 
conveuicucc  of  trai'ollitjg,  and  as  J  hare  not  yet  chan|i^d 
my  clothes,  in  my  anxiety  to  shake  hands  with  if.  Botta, 
I  hasten  back  to  the  inn  to  rummage  my  portmanteaii 
for  sometliing  of  a  suit  that  inay  gire  me  tlic  a])i)car- 
ance  of  a  human  being  for  an  evening  of  half-a*dozeD 
hours. 

The  wwither  has  been  beautiful  all  day.  Jly  son, 
Edward,  and  I.  are  lodged  in  a  room  opening  on  a 
terrace.  From  this  terrace  wc  may  study  the  |>anorama 
of  Jerusalem.  To  our  right  is  the  dome  of  the  Church  of 
the  Holy  Sepulchre  :  before  us  the  Mosque  of  Omar,  and 
lieyond  it  the  Mount  of  Olives,  behind  which,  towards  the 
horizon,  wo  discover  the  mouutoius  rising  over  the  Dead 
Sea.  To  our  lefl  the  ground  ascends  in  an  inclined  plane 
up  to  the  walls  of  the  city,  wlii<!))  completely  shut  out  the 
view  of  the  coimtry  in  tliis  direction.     Cupolas  and  gray 

lis  everywhere,  heads  of  palm  trees  here  and  there, 

ic  domes,  and  a  very  few  minarets ;  such  is  the  general 
aspect  of  Jerusalem. 

Before  going  to  the  consulate,  I  have  a  Hmall  reckoning 
to  scttJe  with  Mr.  Constauline.  We  luive  unanimously 
condemned  him,  and  io  my  capacity  of  leader  of  the 
party,  1  must  of  course  execute  the  seutencc.  I  therefore 
assemble  my  travelling  companions,  and  summott  the 
ex-cook  to  our  presence.  "Constantine,"  I  begin,  "go 
and  fetch  me  your  agreemout,  I  want  to  e.\amine  it."  If 
titc  dome  of  the  Mosque  of  Omar  had  .Mid<Ienly  fallen 
upon  his  head,  1  do  not  beUeve  the  rogue  would  have 


«1  TUB   0»0K. 


hem  man  dJaafftMj  Mtowaliea.     A   Greek  does  uoT 
liwiily  gire  vp  (he  hope  of  oooliiiaing  lo  prey  upon   his 
fisOow-cratitres  ;  and  Coortiatiae;  wiihout  exactly  know- 
ing what   b  goti^  to  take  pbce,  vouJd  muHt  willingly 
bargain   for  a   savage  reptimaod,  on   ounditioii   that  he 
might    retain  bi»  fee  of  three  gnineasa  day.      Jle  takes 
Mmo   Linio  in  finding  the  agreenieDl,  which    he  always 
carritrs  in  hU  pocki-t,  Utt  which  he  preuiiids  tu  go  and 
fetch  from  his  mom,  to  gain  tiote  to  collect  himself.      At 
last  I  obtain  the  paper,  read  aloud  the  contents,  aud  then 
address  bim  :  "  I  cannot  find,"  say  I,  "  that  it  has   been 
stipulated  as  part  uf  your  aerrioe  that  you  should  steal 
for  your   kilthcu  such  utensUs  an^  such  provisions  as 
you    might    require.       You    have    robbed    the    couveut 
of  St-  Jean  d'Acre ;  you   have  robbed    Uie  convent   of 
Nazareth  ;  you  rob  everywhere.    Vou  are  a  consummate 
vitlain.  aod  we  dismiss  you  from  our  service.     Hoi-e  ts  your 
agreement ;  "  and  tearing  the  paper  into  pieces,  I  fling  them 
in  his  face.      "  But  before  you  go,  you  shall  deliver  to 
Andre  everjihing  you  have  stolen.     If,  in  a  quarter  of  an 
huur  all  is  not  given  up,  a^i  1  have  procured  for  vou  a 
passport   whieh   places  you  under  French  law,  I   will 
deliver  you  over  to  the  French  consul,  and  you  may  get 
out  of  bis  bands  as  you  can.     Lastly,  I  warn  you  to  do 
what  you  arc  told,  with  a  good  grace,  otherwise  you  may 
receive  a  80Uiid  thrashing  to  stimulate  your  honesty.     So 
now,  be  off.   wretch,  and   make   baste :  we  give  you  a 
quarts  of  an   hour  to  obey  the  ordoni  you  have  just 
received." 

I  know  quite  well  that  it  would  take  longer  than  that  for 

our  man  to  disgorge  wbat.  as  a  good  Greek,  bo  considered 

,  his  legitimate  j)ro]}orty  as  »aon  as  ho  had  laid  his  fingers 


THE   HACKDOKIAN    NICHOLAS. 


UI 


I 


t ;  but  we  actually  sucoeeded  in  the  cod  m  extracting 
from  his  luggage,  to  liis  infinite  sorrow,  alt  the  stolen 
articles.  Ami  that  being  done,  wc  left  lum  to  look  out 
for  another  berth  elsewhere. 

It  remained  still  to  decide  what  we  were  to  do  with 
his  at/er  eyo,  the  Maecdouian  Nicliolaa.  This  fellow,  an 
habitual  drunkard,  but  tolerably  houest  iu  the  main,  liad 
helped  not  a  httle  to  cnliglttori  us  on  the  infamies  of  bis 
chief;  he  was  therefore  as  expeditiously  dismissed  by 
Constantine,  as  the  rogue  liimself  had  been  by  us. 
Constantino  would  have  greatly  relished  giving  him  a 
Jittle  manual  puiiisbnicnt ;  but  as  Kiclmlas  was  the 
litrongor  of  the  two,  the  attempt  might  have  proved 
detrimental  to  the  physiognomy  of  the  ex  maitre  tthrJlei, 
a  consideration  which  checked  his  ire,  Tlie  respectable 
Constantine  never  condescended  to  laugh,  but  he  greatly 
valued  his  personal  appoaranc*^  dressed  with  the  utmost 
core,  and  buckled  himself  in  his  girdle  as  tightly  as  any 
beauty  in  her  bodice.  Nicholas  came  to  us  iu  despair, 
demanding  how  he  was  to  get  home  again.  From 
Jerusalem  to  Macedonia  the  road  is  interesting,  but  the 
distance  is  long  ;  and  if  ibe  traveller  is  without  a  piastre 
in  hia  pocket,  he  runs  great  risk  of  breaking  down  on  the 
way.  So  we  took  pity  on  the  poor  devil,  and  retained 
him  in  our  service. 

These  litUe  domestic  afifairs  being  settled,  we  proceeded 
to  the  consulate,  where  wo  were  much  delighted  to  sit 
down  again  to  a  real  table,  and  a  regular  Parisian 
dinner.  Genuine  cordiality  and  unforced  mirlh  are  also 
desirable  additions  to  any  repast.  After  dinner,  pipes 
were  brought  in,  and  whilst  we  were  inhaling  the  perfumes 
of  Djeboly,  H.   Barbier,  an  amiable  young  gcntlemao. 


132 


UISXEK   AND   HUaiC. 


attached  to  the  consulate  in  the  cnpitdtj  of  interpreter, 
and  acting  for  the  time  as  chanccUor,  sat  doirn  to  a  mag- 
nificcut  grand  piano  of  Eranl'^  and  entertained  us  with 
choice  music  selected  from  Mozart,  BoctJioven,  Handel,  and 
Bach.  Taking  in  turn  my  station  at  the  instrument,  1 
gave  him,  awkwardly  enough,  but  with  resemblance  that 
coutd  bo  guessed  at,  the  spleudid  andanto  of  the  symphony 
in  A.  "  Arc  you  fond  of  old  music,  and  of  this  style  V 
asked  M.  Botta.  "It  is  the  only  kind  1  like,"  replied  I. 
"  Good  !  "  he  exclaimed  ;  "  ticrc's  a  man  at  last  with  whom 
1  can  talk — tlic  first  I  hnTc  aeen  in  Jerusalem."  "  You 
may  say  the  tliree  first,"  answered  1,  "  for  here  is  Kdwanl. 
who  dotes  on  the  '  Consen'atoii'o'  as  much  as  I  do,  and 
Belly,  whose  head  is  crammed  with  fu^iirs."  A  meeting 
of  freemasons  is  lusa  cordially  8ym[)athctic  than  a  convo- 
cation of  five  enthusiasts  in  music,  who  beliere  in  tlie 
pre-eminence  of  the  old  masters. 

The  party  breaks  up  at  half-past  ten.  Two  imooM-vC 
the  consulate,  armed  with  lanterns  and  long  caoeB. 
resembling  those  of  our  drum-majors,  whicli  they  strike 
violently  against  the  pavement  until  tlicy  eound  again, 
conduct  us  back  to  our  inn.  A  vaulted  passage  leads 
from  the  lane  in  which  the  French  consul  resides  to 
the  main  street  of  Jerusalem,  which  crosses  the  city  from 
one  end  to  the  other.  Under  this  vault  we  observe,  for 
the  first  time,  a  negro  squatting  on  a  stone  bench,  witli  a 
small  chafing-dish  between  his  legs.  Every  evening  we 
find  him  there  at  the  same  place.  He  is  the  watchman 
of  tliat  quarter,  and  passes  tlie  night  on  this  bench,  as 
we  arc  told,  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  times  per 
annum,  and  three  hundred  .ind  sixty-six  times  in  every 
laap'ycar.     Let  our  national  guard,  alter  this,  compUiin  of 


PLEASANT  REFLECnONS.  128 

an  occasional  watch,  and  the  hardship  of  a  camp  bed. 
On  summing  up  the  events  of  the  day,  we  find  ourselves 
in  Jerusalem,  and  have  looked  on  the  &ces  of  friends 
and  countrymen.  The  entry  ought  to  be  made  in  our 
diary  with  a  rose-coloured  pendL 


CHAPTER  IV. 

BMhUfauu  oa  lh«  Gt»  of  tha  IfatiTi^.— Bwntiful  womea.^LatiD  uid  Qretik 
ckurcliM. — Th«  Sohvikli  Huudan. — The  tribe  ol  ThaunenfaB. — Departun 
[ur  th«  D«iil  Sml — A  painful  ■epmtioii.—Firet  glimpM  of  the  De&d  Sea. — 
HiMiutu?  of  HkT^bik — The  Eneniuu. — Tha  eaoort  incraBssd. — The  Una 
of  luuvh.— Baaka  of  tha  KadioD.— Volcanic  avidencaa.~The  ahorsB  of  tha 
Dm)  S«iL— KSr*(  encampDMat. — PUnta  (nd  flowen. 

Dtetmlier  Ulk. 

In  spito  of  tho  mosquitoes  we  have  passed  a  refreshing 
night  ill  a  coiofortable  bed.  We  are  delighted  to  have 
mriveit  iit  time  for  Christmas  Ere,  and  prepare  to  proceed 
to  Bethlehoin.  As  it  is  quite  understood  here  that  all 
travellers  are  pilgrims,  and  that  all  pilgrims  intend  visiting 
Jerioho,  tlio  Jonian,  and  the  Dead  Sea,  the  Bedouins, 
■who  hiro  themselves  as  guides,  are  always  on  the  look 
out  for  now  arrivals,  and  hasten  to  offer  their  services. 
About  one  o'clock,  an  important  personage,  with  a  good 
Sj>ico  of  the  gallows  in  his  look  and  manners,  comes  to 
j»ropo8e  to  us  his  protection  for  the  above-named  tour. 
Aa  vre  think  to  make  better  arrangements  than  those  of 
OirUiiiary  tourists,  I  stand  on  the  reserve,  the  more  so  as 
-HoiUiuiuned,  who  is  perfectly  well  acquainted  with  all 
iJiumw  geotry,  winks  at  me  in  a  very  significant  manner, 
wlubt  he  returns  the  salaam  of  the  new  comer.  I  there- 
r«*w  dscliiie  entering  into  an  engagement  with  the 
i^cilMiki^  to  whom  I  announce  formally  that  I  treat  with 
-Mk-dtW  iMLC^pt  through  the  French  consul 


BOAD  TO   BKTHLiniKH.— VAl.l.KY   OP  HISNOM. 


135 


I 


By  hatf-past  two  our  horses  are  brought  to  the  door  of 
the  inn,  when  we  mount  and  commence  our  journey. 
TJie  weallier  continues  splendid  ;  the  sun  warms  us  most 
agreeably,  and  we  get  over  the  two  aliort  leagues  separat- 
ing us  from  Bethlehem,  with  many  capricious  dcviatious ; 
I  mean  galloping  at  mndom,  jost  as  Parisian  loungers  do 
at  Sfontmorcncy. 

On  leaving  Jerusalem,  we  descend  first  into  the  valley 
of  Hinnom,  crossing  it  at  its  commencement ;  we  pass,  on 
the  left,  the  Birket-cs-Soulthan.  a  splendid  cistern  hollowed 
in  the  rock  by  the  kings  of  Judah  ;  and  on  the  right,  some 
rocks,  amongst  which  we  descry  numerous  sepulchral 
caves.  A  little  further  on,  upon  tlie  level  ground,  we 
tread  the  site  of  the  ancient  liamlot  called,  by  Josephus, 
'Epifiii'^tov  otj(os.  This  flat,  which  extends  all  the  way  from 
Jerusalem  to  the  Greek  monastery  called  Mar-Elias,  is  the 
&pot  where  Pompey  pitched  his  camp,  when  he  came  to 
wage  war  agaiust  Arlstobulmi,  aud  to  restore  the  pontifi- 
cate to  HjTcanns,  son  of  Alexander  Jannaius.  A  little 
before  we  i-cach  the  convent  gate,  a  well  stands  right  in 
the  middle  of  the  road  ;  it  is  the  Bir-cn-Ncdjur  (or  well 
of  the  star).  Tradition  relates  that  the  miraculoim  star 
which  appeared  on  the  night  of  the  Nativity,  stopped  over 
this  very  place. 

The  buildings  of  the  Convent  of  Mar-Elias  are  in  a 
wretched  state,  and  resemble  a  fortress  much  more  than  a 
place  consecrated  to  religioiis  purposes.  From  hence  the 
road  hollows  down  into  a  deep  ravine,  planted  with  meagre 
olive  trees,  and  traversed  by  a  path  cut  out  of  the  rock. 
On  the  opposite  side  of  this  ravine  the  flat  range  re-appears 
again,  following  and  commanding  all  the  windings  of  the 
>y.     On  this  ti-ack,  aud  to  the  right,  we  encounter  tiie 


IM 


TOKB  OP   UCHEL. 


ruins  dT  an  B&dcnt  aqueduct,  wbicli  is  supposad  (etMTMtl} 
1  hAve  Qo  doubt)  to  hare  beeo  constructed  bv  tbe  kings  of 
Judah.  In  front  of  the  nous  of  this  atjueduct  (vhich  is 
little  more  than  a  canal  com«d  orcr  bj  Urge  blocks  of 
rtooe  bound  together),  we  conn  to  a  Uussulman  oual; 
(chapel),  held  in  great  TeneratioQ  by  all  the  inhabitants  of 
the  countrj.  whether  Christiana,  Mahommcdans,  or  Jews. 
It  is  the  tomb  of  KacbeL 

We  read  in  Genesis  that  Rachel  died  on  the  road  to 
Bethlehem,  in  givii^  birth  to  Itenjamin  (Gen.  xxxv.  19 
•nd  20),  "  And  Rachel  died,  and  was  buried  iu  tlie  wa}' 
to  Ephrath,  vhich  is  Bethlehem."  "  20.  And  Jacob  set  a 
pillar  upim  bet  grave  :  that  is  the  pillar  of  Bachers  grave 
uuto  this  da}'."  Id  acouutry  like  this,  tradition  is  entitled 
to  ever;  respect,  and  I  have  not  the  least  doubt  that 
this  is  realty  the  place  where  the  patriarch's  vife  was 
buried. 

A  little  further  on,  vre  leave  to  our  left  some  ancient 
cisterns,  known  by  the  name  of  David's  wctLt.  At  this 
point  the  road,  to  round  tlie  valley  in  which  lletblehem 
stands,  turns  off  at  an  angle,  and  thus  suddenly  takes  us 
in  front  of  the  first  buildings  of  the  holy  city.  From  thi.s 
spot  tlie  aspect  of  Bcttdchcm  is  really  delightful.  It  is  an 
extensivo  village,  witli  houses  grouped  together  in  the  most 
picturesque  manner,  and  at  its  eastern  extremity  appear 
the  imposing  masses  of  the  church  and  convent.  In 
front  of  Bethlehem,  a  large,  wcll^cultivated  valley  opens, 
with  pIantation.<t  of  oUve  and  fig  trees  arranged  in 
terraces. 

Nothing  can  be  more  extraordinary  thjin  Bethlehem  at 
the  moment  of  our  arriral.  Christians  from  all  the  coun- 
tries of  the  East  arc  there  congregated.      Arabs.  Greeks, 


THE   KVB   OF  THB   HATIVITT. 


127 


P 


Armenians,  Copts,  and  Abyssiuians  swarm  in  the  streets  : 
all  arc  <lrc88ed  in  festival  habits  ;  and.  whilst  waiting  for 
the  ceremony  of  the  night,  each  group  of  pilgrima  kills  the 
sheep  which  is  to  form  the  foimdatioii  of  their  evening 
meal.  Our  borso:i  literally  flounder  througli  the  blood 
spilt  on  all  sides  by  these  extemporaneous  butchora.  The 
open  yard  in  front  of  the  monastery  is  crowded  with 
piigrtms,  to  whom  the  Bcthlehemitcs  soil  chnplcts,  crosses, 
and  small  pictures  carved  lu  olive  wood  or  mothcr-of- 
peari. 

We  ahght  at  the  convent  gate,  in  front  of  the  hurying- 
ground,  in  which  are  interred  the  Franciscan  fathers  who 
die  at  Bethlehem.  A  small  door,  four  feet  and  a  half  in 
height,  admits  into  the  monastery  the  pilgrims  who  come 
to  claim  its  hospitality.  This  door  is  closed  behind  them, 
and  they  then  lind  themselves  in  large  corridors,  where 
Crowds  of  Cliri^tiiui  Arabs  are  coiisLautly  circulating.  We 
are,  as  usual,  cordially  welcomed  ;  rooms  are  assigned  to 
our  exclusive  use.  and  we  become  members  of  the  cslab- 
lishmont  for  four-and-twonty  houni. 

As  we  have  arrived  early,  we  take  advantage  of  the 
remaining  portion  of  the  day  to  ramble  in  the  neighbour- 
hood. Service  is  going  on  ;  wc  cannot  tboreforo  at  pre- 
sent visit  tiie  sanctuaries,  which  we  must  reserve  for  our 
return.  As  wo  leave  the  convent,  we  pass  entirely  through 
the  town,  and  at  a  fountain,  Kurrounded  by  a  group  of  the 
prettiest  women  imaginable,  wc  make  ait  abundant  collec- 
tion of  insects.  When,  at  the  close  of  day,  we  retrace 
our  steps,  other  women  have  succeeded  the  former  ones 
at  the  fountain,  e^jually  attractive  imd  elegantly  attired. 
The  women  of  Bethlehem  are  celebrated  through- 
ODt  Syria  for   their    remarkable   boauty    and    graceful 


.128 


LATIN   AND   ORBKK   ClIVRCnBS. 


'faetring-     I  cau  safely  affirm  tlmt  this  reputation  is  well 

We  find,  on  rottiming  to  tlie  convent,  oiio  of  our  feltov- 
passengers  of  tlio  sl«ADier,  Count  Fadini,  a  yotmg  Milaneite 
nobleman  of  great  distinction  ;  M.  Pizzamano,  and  tlio  two 
attacb^  of  the  French  conHuIate ;  tesides  two  other 
Frenchmen,  vrilli  ivhom  wc  travelled  from  CoiiMtantiuople 
to  Beyrout.  We  foiin  altogether  a  numerous  company, 
and  no  doubt  the  evening  will  pass  agreeably. 

Whilst  they  arc  preparing  the  dinner  provided  by' the 
convent,  we  visit  the  holy  places.  One  of  the  fothei-s.  a 
Belgian  by  birth,  obligingly  offers  to  act  as  our  guide. 
The  Jjatin  church  and  the  Greek  church — this  last  being 
no  other  than  the  one  built  by  the  Empress  Helena — are 
very  dififerent  from  each  other.  The  first  named  is  small 
and  unadonied  ;  the  latter  is  too  mucli  ornamented  with 
pictures,  mosaic  work,  and  tinsel.  Am  I  influenced  by 
sectarian  prejudice  ?  I  8ca,rcely  know  ;  but  I  prefer  the 
simplicity  of  our  little  Latin  chapel  to  the  splendour  of  the 
Greek  sanctuary. 

We  then  go  down  into  the  vaults.  First,  are  the  cham- 
bers of  St.  Jerome  and  St.  Paul ;  then  the  apartment 
occupied  by  St.  Jcweph  during  the  Virgin's  delivery  ;  and 
lastly,  the  room  of  the  manger  where  our  Saviour  was 
bom.  Here,  as  at  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  the  Greeks,  much 
richer  thau  the  Latins,  have  succeeded  in  becoming  pos- 
sessors of  the  most  valuable  relics.  Wo  were  shown  a 
carved  opening  in  the  pavement,  which  formerly  contained 
a  massive  silver  star,  that  had  been  inlaid  there  in  memory 
of  the  miraculous  Star  which  led  tlie  Magi  and  the  shep- 
herds to  the  cradle  of  the  Messiah.  We  are  told  that  the 
Greeks  have  carried  it  oS*.    1  doubt  tlie  fact,  though  I 


CHSraTlUS   AT    BETULEHKM. 


120 


csQiiot  refute  it.     I  caa  only  affirm  Uiat  tJio  parein&nt  \a 
at  the  present  day  unadorned  by  any  precious  metal. 

b  After  tliifl  interesting  visit  we  ascend  n^in  to  the 
■courent.  wbere  we  are  conducted  immediately  to  ttie 
refectory.  The  repast  provided  for  uh  is  strictly  meagre, 
without  quibble.  Ccjjpercd  soup,  fish  with  peppered  sauce, 
(tab  without  any  sauce  at  all,  but  peppered  still ;  and 
tftstly.  dry  figs  aud  coffee :  such  is  the  convent  fare.  We 
should  most  gladly  compound  for  the  same,  ami  oficrod 
with  similar  good-will,  throughout  our  journey.  After 
dumor  we  assemble  in  my  room  to  smoke  a  chibouk  and 
sip  our  coffee.  As  we  were  to  got  up  again  at  hatf-past 
eleven  o'clock,  to  bo  present  at  the  night  service,  we  wont 
to  bed  very  early. 

It  would  be  quite  &upcrfluoui<  in  me  to  detail  tliis 
touching  ceremony,  bo  often  related  by  pilgrims  who,  like 
ourscIvvH,  have  happened  to  be  in  Ketldcliem  <luring  this 
solemn  night.  By  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  we  bad 
sgain  returned  to  o»r  apartments. 


» 


PrvM  thamitr  SSiA  It  Jmraary  fi(i. 

This  morning,  by  six  o'clock,  wo  were  already  up  to 
assist  at  the  mass,  which  was  to  be  performed  expressly 
for  us  by  the  Abbtr  Michon,  onr  kind  and  worthy  fellow- 
tnivcUer.  He  had  seiised  this  opportunity  for  a  discourse 
oil  the  great  event  which  took  place  eighteen  hundred  and 
fifty-one  years  before  our  arrival,  on  the  very  spot  where 
hv  was  speaking.  1  need  not  say  that  he  found  touching 
language  atlapted  to  such  a  theme,  aiid  that  lie  succeeded 
in  renewing  in  our  bosoms  the  emotion  wo  had  felt  for  the 
firet  lime  at  Nazareth. 

Tbe  good  fathers  will  not  allow  us  to  depart  until  wo 

101.  k  ft 


130 


TiUi  HOLY  SBPULCUBE. 


have  shared  the  abstemious  broaVfast  wliich  Uiev  offer  us. 
Wo  are  tliiis  compelled  to  tarry  at  the  convent  a  little 
longer  than  we  ahould  have  proferrod.  We  employed  two 
hours  in  pm-chaaiiig  a  quantity  of  those  Uttlo  pious  remem- 
brance.'), made  up  at  fiethlehem,  which  are  so  popular  in 
France.  Wo  ehat  with  the  Arab  Ciirii>tiatis,  who  are 
crowding  into  all  the  corridors  of  the  convent.  Among 
tliom  there  is  a  Scheitih,  who  pretends  also  to  be  Scheikh 
of  Er-RUia,  and  makes  us  the  same  offer  of  lus  services  aa 
hifl  predecessor  we  hare  named  before.  We  decline 
eugagcmonLs  with  him  as  with  the  other,  his  countenance 
beiDg  BCarcelj  more  prepossessing.  He  ie  on  the  whole  as 
fine  a  ^ure  for  a  bri^nd  as  could  be  well  imagined. 

By  half-pose  ton  we  leave  the  convent  and  return  to 
Jerusalem,  riding  as  briskly  as  on  tUo  preceding  day.  As 
soon  as  we  reach  our  iun,  we  hasten  to  take  a  second 
breakfast,  and  then  proceed  to  examine  in  oi'der  all  the 
sacred  and  profane  monunionts  in  the  scriptural  city.  Of 
course,  our  first  visit  was  to  the  Holy  Sepulchre. 

As  all  I  could  say  would  be  but  a  mere  repetition  of  the 
minute  descriptions  which  may  bo  read  elsewhere  of  the 
Christian  monuments  contained  in  that  venerable  church, 
and  as  I  must  expect  tbat,  after  the  eminent  writora  who 
have  devoted  so  many  glowing  pages  to  the  subject,  my 
simple  narrative  could  not  but  appear  weak  and  colourless, 
I  prefer  to  leave  the  subject  altogether  untouched.  Besides, 
the  Abb6  ilichon  has  undertaken  the  history  of  Christian 
Jcruiialcm,  and  I  cannot  do  better  than  leave  the  task  to 
him,  in  the  full  confidence  that  it  will  be  nobly  e-\ecutod. 

The  ancient  monuments  wliicli  abound  in  .lentsalem 
require  to  be  studied  with  the  most  scrupulous  attention, 
and  to  be  examitied  again  and  again.     The  reader  must. 


THE  gOHBIKn   nAMDAKT 


131 


then,  allow  me  U>  put  off,  until  I  arrive  at  the  narrative  of 
my  second  sojourn  in  tliat  city,  all  the  obscrvatious  I  hare 
been  able  to  oolloct.  I  sliall  tiius  not  ho  obliged  to  divide 
the  results  of  my  rcscarcli&s,  and  tlio  reader  will  escape 
the  tediousness  of  a  twice-told  explanation,  and  the 
annoyance  of  having  constantly  to  recur  from  one  volume 
to  tlie  other  to  compare  my  observations  on  any  given 
monument.  JtiHt  now,  then,  I  will  only  say  that  I  endea- 
voured to  see  everything  before  my  departure  for  the 
Dead  Sea,  because  it  did  not  seem  to  me  quite  evident 
that  we  were  sure  to  return  hearty  and  hcaltliy  from  this 
adventurous  expedition.  From  the  day  of  my  arrival  in 
Jerusalem  1  had  accfuainted  M.  Botta  with  my  desire  to 
accomplish  the  journey  by  land  roimd  the  asphaltic  take. 
Although  the  undertnking  did  not  appear  to  him  an  easy 
one,  he  saw  nothing  in  it  that  was  imjKissible.  I  was 
delighted  to  find  him  of  this  opinion,  and  begged  of  him 
to  introduce  me  as  soon  as  possible  to  some  influential 
Sebeikh,  who  might  provide  mc  with  an  escort,  ami  serve 
as  a  guide  during  the  whole  expedition. 

On  the  27th  of  December,  oarly  in  the  morning,  I  was 
summoned  to  the  consuktc,  and  there  I  met  with  a  fine 
old  man,  whose  noble  and  intelligent  face  was  often  lighted 
ap  by  a  benevoltint  smile,  which  inuncdiately  engaged  my 
confidence.  This  man  was  Haindan,  Scheikh  of  the 
Tbaamerah,  a  tribe  which,  after  having  lived  many  years 
in  a  social  village,  one  fine  morning  took  to  the  Bedouin's 
wandering  life  again,  never  more  to  abandon  it.  I  ex- 
plained to  Hanidan  the  plan  of  my  intended  journey.  He 
assured  me  at  once  that  all  I  proposed  might  certainly  be 
arcompUKhod ;  and  that  he  woulil  undertake  to  conduct 
and  bring  us  l>aek  again  in  safety.     He  stipuhitcd  only 

k2 


132  BODT  QUARD   AKD   PBESENTS. 

that  he  must  take  with  him  a  certain  number  of  his  tribe 
to  afford  us,  in  case  of  need,  a  sufficient  protection.  Three 
mounted  and  five  on  foot  he  considered  a  sufficient  escort. 
The  horsemen  were  to  be  paid  twenty  piastres  a  day,  the 
in&ntry  only  fifteen.  For  himself,  he  would  be  content 
with  such  bakhshish  as  we  might  choose  to  present  him  oo 
our  return.  We  gave  him  to  understand  that  he  might 
depend  upon  a  thousand  piastres  ;  and  he  appeared  to  be 
quite  satisfied  with  this  promise. 

Nothing  remained  now  but  to  fix  the  time  of  our 
departure.  I  begged  of  Hamdan  to  come  again  in  a 
few  days,  when  I  should  be  able  to  tell  him  the  precise 
moment  when  we  might  leave  Jerusalem ;  and  we 
parted  on  mutual  terms  of  good  understanding.  Before 
allowing  him  to  take  his  leave,  I  asked  our  brave 
Scheikh  what  kind  of  presents  we  ought  to  carry  with 
us,  with  a  view  of  gratifying  such  of  his  colleagues  as 
we  might  meet  on  our  way,  and  of  securing  their 
friendship.  The  list  of  articles  was  made  out  as 
follows : — 

Black  abByas  (cloaks) 8  or  7 

Wbito  do.  (leraki) 6 

Paira  of  red  boots 12 

Aiabian  kafiah  (turbaoB) 20 

Tobacoo  fiir  wnokiog 10  oqaes. 

LuletiB  or  bowU  of  tobaoco-pipsH 100 

Powder 6  oquoe. 

Small  shot 10  pounds. 

Needlw  for  Bewing 500 

We  thought  with  such  a  store  that  we  had  enough  to 
civilise  all  Arabia  Petrsea.  Pleasant,  but  short-hved 
illusion ! 

Gustavus  de  Rothschild,  who  had  been  preparing  to 
cross    the    desert    into    Egypt,    allowed    himself    to '  be 


8EI.1M.    MATTEO.   AND  ANWltli. 


133 


^ 


seduced  by  the  iiloa  of  a  journey  of  discovery,  sucJi 
as  ours  promiaed  to  bo.  Wu  were  dolis'ittid  when  he 
ofTered  to  join  us.  This  addition  iuciimscd  our  canivaii 
by  throe  more  persons :  himself,  then  his  ihvigoman, 
Francis  Dziiloglon,  a  powerful,  ititelligcut  man,  entirely 
demoted  to  his  master,  and  a  Nubian,  called  Selini, 
IMsrhaps  tlic  most  amusing  croature  to  bo  fotuid  in  all 
the  East  Actire,  faitfafiU,  greedy,  lazy,  stupid,  and 
cunning  at  tliu  saiiio  time,  Seiini  is  the  very  image  of 
Pierrot,  with  this  difference,  that  instead  of  having  hia 
fcce  whitened  with  flour,  he  has  it  blackened  with 
charcoal 

Francis  and  Andre  undertook  to  hunt  tlie  bazaars  to 
niake  nur  purchaiies  ;  and  as  we  could  not  in  conscience 
cook  our  owu  food,  we  begged  of  them  to  find  out  tt 
suooeasor  to  Constantine.  The  very  same  day  we  con- 
cluded a  bai^^n  with  an  honost  fellow,  called  in  Italian, 
Mattoo  by  the  Franks,  and  Matthya  by  tlio  Arabs. 
This  man  is  a  Christian  of  Jerusalem,  well  versed  in 
the  niystorieji  of  tSyniui  cookery ;  that  is,  he  knows 
how  to  prepare  hard-boiled  eggs,  to  scald  or  roast  a 
fowl,  and  to  divide  it  with  his  fingers,  to  fricassee 
mutton  in  three  or  four  different  ways,  to  nmkc  coffeo, 
and  lo  light  chibouks.  Besides  all  these  accomplish- 
ments, he  is  acquainted  with  the  country,  speaks  » 
little  French  and  Italian,  a  fair  quantity  of  corroct 
Arabic,  and  aa  much  of  the  incomprehensible  jargon 
of  llio  wandering  tribes. 

Wc  entrusted  Mattcro  with  the  purcliasu  of  our 
proTisioas  for  tlie  journey.  As  Andre  had  secretly 
reserved  to  himself  tho  little  .peculations  usually  levied 
bj'  all  dragomen  ou  stoa-s  laid  in  fur  their  employers, 


134  THE   AUTHOK'8   BON   TOO    ILL   TO   TBAVEL. 

we  saw  that  hostilities  would  soon  be  declared  between 
the  two  conflicting  powers,  in  consequence  of  a  mutual 
love  for  the  same  piastres.  To  check  this  lowering  cloud 
at  once,  we  commanded  Andre  to  abstain  henceforth  from 
any  purchase,  unless  he  received  positive  orders  to  that 
effect. 

Little  hy  little  all  our  preparations  were  completed. 
But  the  weather  had  become  uncomfortably  rainy,  and 
we  were  obliged  to  wait  a  few  days  longer,  until  the  eun 
chose  to  make  his  appearance,  before  we  venttu'ed  on  a 
start.  Whilst  we  were  preparing  for  the  campaign  of 
Arabia,  my  son,  weakened  by  fever,  was  anxious  to  return 
to  France.  I  had  decided  that  Andr^  should  accompany 
him  back  to  Beyrout.  But  I  had  not  sufficiently  relied 
upon  the  friendship  and  devotedness  of  the  excellent 
Abbe.  He  never  would  consent  to  let  my  son  go  back 
alone,  in  the  weak  state  to  which  he  was  reduced ;  aad, 
though  it  was  a  very  great  sacrifice  for  himself  to  give  up 
the  journey  round  the  Dead  Sea,  he  determined  upon 
returning  to  Beyrout,  whence  he  would  retrace  his  steps 
as  £i8t  as  possible  to  Jerusalem,  so  as  to  continue  with  us 
the  examination  of  Syria.  I  accepted  his  friendly  offer 
with  the  deepest  gratitude ;  and  everything  being  thus 
settled,  we  agreed  that  oa  the  5th  of  January,  whatever 
might  be  the  weather,  we  should  turn  our  faces  towards 
the  Dead  Sea.  On  the  day  following  our  departure  my 
son  was  to  leave  Jerusalem  in  another  direction,  so  as  to 
arrive  at  Beyrout  in  time  for  the  steamer  appointed  to 
sail  ou  the  16th. 

We  waited  patiently  enough  the  arrival  of  the  expected 
day  ;  employed  in  searching  every  comer  of  Jerusalem 
inside  and  outside   the    walls,    in   taking  drawings   and 


AK    AOBEEABLK   BBVEKAOE. 


135 


I 


b 


n  looking  for  plants  and  insectfi.  We  added 
fiomething  else,  but  tlie  experiment  to  which  we  lind 
recourse  for  passing  our  time,  tuniftd  out  so  utterly  dis- 
agreenblc,  that  1  may  safelj  say  not  one  of  ns  will  ever  be 
tempted  to  try  it  agfiiu.  I  nm  spcalung  of  the  hachich, 
an  abominable  poison,  which  the  dregs  of  the  population 
alone  drink  mid  smoke  in  the  East,  and  which  we  were 
silly  enongh  to  take  in  too  large  a  dose  on  llie  cto  of  New 
Year's  day.  We  fancied  we  were  going  to  hare  an 
evening  of  enjoyment,  but  wo  nearly  died  through  our 
iraprndenoe.  As  T  had  taken  a  larger  dose  of  this  per- 
nicious drug  than  my  companions,  I  remainoil  almost 
insensible  for  more  tlian  twenty-four  liours,  after  which  J 
found  myself  completely  broken  down,  witli  nervous 
spasms,  and  incoherent  dreams,  which  eeemed  to  have 
endured  a  hundred  years  at  least. 

I  was  yesterday  so  awkward  as  to  get  a  fall  in  return- 
ing home  from  M.  Botta's.  It  was  not  raining ;  but,  as 
the  Jerusalem  mud  seldom  gets  dry  at  this  season,  you 
IjDUBt  keep  close  to  the  heels  of  the  kaouas  unless  you 
choose  to  do  as  I  did.  I  ran  my  foot  against  a  stone, 
and  fell  down  heavily  at  full  Icngtii.  severely  injuring  my 
right  knee.  Two  hu-ge  pieces  of  English  sticking-plaster 
have  admirably  repaired  the  damage,  by  KtHuching  the 
Mood.  This  morning  my  leg  is  as  stiff  as  a  poker  :  but 
1  do  not  want  to  use  it  at  present,  and  the  .additional 
fatigue  will  fall  more  on  my  horHo  than  on  myself. 

At  a  qnarter-past  three  our  entire  equipage  is  at  the 
gate ;  and,  as  we  intend  sleeping  at  the  convent  in 
Bethlehem,  we  send  on  ilatteo  with  the  lu^age  to 
Jfar-Saba,  where    we    propose   to  join  him  to-morrow. 


138 


UBrARTUKB   FUOM   JBHUSALKU. 


M.  Botln  accompniiies  iis,  wiUi  my  boti  and  the  AbW. 
We  are  off  at  last !  Siiall  we  over  sec  Jcrimalem  again  t 
Allah  dakm  !  Allah  oiilj  knows,  say  the  Arabs,  aiij  so 
we  think  too,  if  wo  do  not  uUer  it.  In  fact,  we  are  not  the 
only  IJGOpIc  who  feel  anxious  about  this  journey  ;  <:\i^^ 
one,  excepting  our  brave  consul  and  the  Bedouins,  considers 
our  undertaking  as  rash  in  the  extreme ;  our  servants 
and  tnoukris,  who  undurMtaud  tliat  they  are  in  for  a  share 
of  the  dangers  we  are  likely  to  run.  are  somewhat  down- 
cast, and  some  of  them  arc  crying.  Is  it  through  fright, 
or  from  regret  at  leaving  so  agreeable  a  sojourn  as 
Jerusalem  %  I  cannot  say ;  but  at  nuy  rate  our  starting 
is  anything  but  joyful.  We  are  off!  Now  the  die 
is  cast,  and  wc  must  be  prepared  for  every  chance  that 
happens. 

The  Schoikh  llanidan,  iiiouiitcd  on  a  noble  gray  marc, 
rides  foremost,  flanked  by  two  gallant  cavaliers.  Meidany 
and  Kl-KIi;itib.  The  last  is  thus  named  from  his  func- 
tions, which  consists  in  repeating  the  tCkotlah,  or  Fri<lay 
prayer,  before  his  brethren  of  the  tribe.  Then  follow 
our  five  foot-guartla,  strong,  well-made,  and  active,  leaping 
like  goats  from  one  side  of  the  roafl  to  the  other.  They 
are  all  armo<l  with  long  guns  or  matchlocks,  swoi-ds,  and 
yatnghanft.  Hanid.an  is  the  only  one  who  carries  pistols 
and  a  powder-flask  slung  across  his  green  robe,  over 
which  he  wears  a  cloak  of  brown  and  white  stripes.  A 
yelkiw  and  red  kalieh  forms  a  turban,  which  sets  off 
admirably  his  fine  countenance.  Meidany  Iijls  rather  a 
sinister  look,  though  ho  is  really  a  very  good  sort  of  follow; 
and  80  is  the  Khatib,  who  ha-s  much  more  tlie  appearance 
of  a  brigand  thtui  of  an  Iman. 

Among  them  thci'e  is  one  clothed  only  in  a  long  black 


A   PAISFDL  SEPARATION. 


187 


N 


robe,  vrith  a  tiinall  slieopakiti  cloak  ovur  hi»  shonldcra, 
much  worn  out.  and  with  the  hnir  outside.  Ttiis  is 
Ahouad,  the  Scheikh  Ihimdan's  nephew,  the  most 
doTotcd,  obliging,  and  indefatigable  of  our  escort.  Wo 
soon  become  sworn  friends,  and  he  scarcely  ever  leaves 
my  horse's  side. 

Wc  then  follow,  helter-skelter,  with  Moliammcd.  who, 
whenever  he  can  find  a  piece  of  even  ground  without 
mud,  begins  capering  and  curvetting,  and  loses  liis  turl>an 
every  time.  I  could  not  make  up  my  mind  to  part  with 
this  faithful  follower,  notwitiiHtanding  hints  to  that  efTect 
from  M.  Botta.  who  thought  the  presence  of  a  Turkish 
non-commispioned  officer  might  bo  disftgreeable  to  the 
BetJouins,  and  bring  us  into  trouble. 

We  reach  Mar-Elias  by  four  o'clock  ;  the  sun  is  going 
down,  and  the  gates  of  Jerusalem  shut  at  the  Moghreh, 
that  is  to  say,  at  the  moment  when  he  disappears  beliind 
the  horizon.  Those  of  our  party  who  must  return  this 
evening  have  no  time  to  lose,  if  they  e.\pcct  to  find  the 
gates  still  open.  None  but  a  father  can  understand  what 
T  feel  at  (his  [Kiinful  moment :  my  only  son  is  about  to 
part  from  mo  ;  I  may  perhaps  never  see  him  more  ;  and 
though,  in  my  heart,  I  am  almost  tempted  to  thank  the 
fever  whicli  has  perhaps  saved  him  fi'om  the  miknown 
(hingcrs  towards  which  we  are  hurrjing,  I  do  not  «ufler 
the  less  for  this  separation,  to  the  idea  of  which  I  am  not 
yet  reconciled.  At  the  convent-gate,  without  uUghting, 
we  bid  each  other  farewell.  Felicien  weeps  without 
endeavouring  to  conceal  liLs  emotion  ;  restrained  by  false 
pride,  1  try  to  appear  more  calm,  but  the  tears  are 
beginning  to  choke  me,  and   I  hasten  to  close  this  painfut 

)ne.     After  a  last  shake  of  the  hand,  I  spur  my  horse 


13S 


CONVENT  OP    BETHLBHEW. 


forward  to  show  the  lookers-on  that  I  am  a  man. 
Kdwnrd,  whose  kind  he&n  sy>n)>athi8cs  with  mine, 
approaches  to  offer  consolation.  J!y  eon  ha«  hsft  me ; 
but  another  immediately  suppUcH  iiii^  place,  so  I  have  no 
reason  to  complain.  Mohammed  and  Ahouad  understand 
my  feelings  ;  both  press  ray  hand  affectionately,  and  utter 
kind  expressions.  We  move  on  ;  and  I  dare  not  look 
behind  to  catch  another  glimpse  of  our  parting  finends. 
Jt  13  only  when  we  arrire  at  Bethlehem  that  I  am  myself 

in.  The  sacrifice  is  over,  and  now  I  must  resign 
mjadf  entirely  to  the  task  1  have  undertaken,  of 
exploring  a  cowntry  as  little  known  as  the  interior  of 
Australia. 

We  are  lodged  again  at  the  conrent  in  the  same  room 
we  had  occupied  on  Christmas  eve.  The  good  fathers 
appear  pleased  to  see  us  once  more,  and  we  are  not 
alow  in  returning  our  expressions  of  gratitude.  Imme- 
diately on  our  arrival,  as  it  is  still  hroad  daylight.  I 
ascend  tlie  terrace  on  tJic  top  of  the  convent,  to  mark  the 
bearings  of  all  the  important  places  in  the  surroundiug 
country. 

At  the  distance  of  tliree  or  four  miles  due  east,  there  is 
a  range  of  lofty  mountains  called  Djebcl  Jfottala.  Half- 
way between  them  and  Bethlehem  lies  Uie  hamlet  of 
Beth-Saliour  (Domus  vigilia?  t),*  which  the  Franciscan 
Friars  call  Jl  pasforc  From  this  place,  they  tell  us,  the 
shepherds  came  who  adored  the  new-bom  Saviour  in  bis 
humble  <Tib.     Only  ten  miimtes  distant  from  where  I  am. 


*  TheTfl  vvt  in  th«  tnritorjr  vf  tbn  tribx  of  Juduli  a  ataliun  olII*!  Ri<th*Znr, 
(JoiJt.  IV.  CS).  Can  thii  l>«  lb«  inajem  BotliStliaur )  1  iboulil  think  not. 
KiuwbiiiB  UlU  iu  Uiat  tliu  town  teat  ■itiuiie<l  nt  tli«  twvtitistb  railc-atotii?  od  tlw 
roail  tram  Jeruoalcm  to  Uebrvu,  atiil  Uiii  topogmpliLcal  dawrirUon  cunot  appljr 
t«  B«tii  Saliour. 


KSVIB0N3  OP   BBTUI.EUEM. 


u» 


to  tbo  south-east,  is  Hie  Grotto  del  I<atte,  where  the 
Virgin  took  shelter,  and  suckled  the  infant  Christ  before 
the  flight  into  Ej^ypt.  Tiieti,  again,  by  east-north-east, 
and  nbont  four  miles  distant,  we  descry  on  an  eminence 
the  vilUgc  of  Sour-Bn]iol ;  and  tastty,  behind  us,  duo  west, 
the  tillage  of  Both-Djula. 

Whilst  1  am  studying  the  cnviroDB  of  Bethlehem 
darkness  comes  on,  and  with  it  a  piercing  cold,  which 
drives  us  from  our  observatory.  ,Wo  descend  again  to 
the  conrent,  where  we  find  Messrs.  PiznamaJio  and 
Barbier,  who  have  followed  to  join  oar  party  in  a  visit  to 
Ular-Sabo.  Belly  and  Loysel  have  been  to  explore  the 
country  in  the  direction  of  the  fountain  ;  they  have 
returned  bIao,  and  dinner  Is  brought  in.  Our  meal  pa.<i.<)e3 
over  gaily.  I  exhibit  no  outward  signs  of  sorrow,  and  if 
I  sCitl  feel  a  pang  or  two,  I  conceal  them.  I  shrink  from 
intniding  on  my  friends  my  private  sorrows,  and  only 
to  share  with  them  my  joys.  Though  it  costs  mo 
I  look  at  least  as  happy  as  themselves. 

T!w  Greek  patriarch  has  given  us  a  letter  of  reiwm- 
mendation  to  the  superior  of  the  convent  of  Mar-Saba,  as 
the  only  certain  passport  to  the  hospitality  of  the  good 
monks.  All  is  now  ready,  and  to-morrow  we  commence 
in  earnest  our  adventurous  expedition. 

Janiuiiy  tjrJl. 

Before  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning  we  were  all 
actively  employed.  The  artists  have  gone  to  lake  a 
sketch  of  the  femaleK  at  the  fountain ;  Edward  and  I 
are  aearching  for  monuments  in  the  neighbourhood.  A 
joung  Arab  tells  me  there  is  an  inscription  in  charactere 
tmknown  to  tum  on  ti  Inrgc  stone  close  to  Rachel'!! 
tomb.     It  is  a  'gwid  mile  oil",  but  on  the  way  we  shall 


140 


DAVIDS  WBLLS. 


pass  by  tho  ancient  dstcrns  caHoJ  Biar-Daotul,  or  Uanrts 
Wolts,  and  they  alone  are  worth  o«r  going  back  for. 
Guided  by  the  hid,  who  undertakes  to  point  out  the 
inscription,  we  set  off  at  once.  The  sun  shines  brightly, 
and  though  there  has  been  a  hard  frost,  and  the  road 
is  covered  with  ice,  it  is  impossible  to  wish  for  finer 
weather. 

We  first  stop  at  the  wells,  three  In  number,  and  formed 
in  the  solid  rock.  White  drawing  u  plan  of  tlio  connecting 
drains,  wo  observe  a  number  of  small  mosaic  cubes,  which 
show  that  in  tlays  of  yore  those  wells  have  been  held 
in  considerable  reputation.  Why  has  this  name  of 
Biar-DAoud  been  given  to  them  t  Are  we  to  take  them 
for  the  wells  where  three  brave  soldiers  of  the  pious 
king  came  to  fetch  water  for  lum  ?  I  am  inclined  to  do 
80,  although  these  welts  are  situated  five  or  six  hundred 
yards  from  the  modern  Bethlehem. 

We  read  in  1  Clironicles  {xi.  16),  '*And  David  was  then 
in  the  hold  (or  Cave  of  Adnllain),  and  the  Philistines' 
gai-risou  was  then  at  Bethlehem.  (17.)  And  David 
longed,  and  said.  Oh  that  one  would  give  me  drink  of  tho 
water  of  the  well  of  Bethlehciii,  tliat  is  at  the  gate  1 
(18.)  And  the  three  brake  through  the  host  of  the 
Pliilistincit,  and  drew  water  out  of  the  well  of  Bethlehem, 
that  was  by  the  gate,  and  took  it,  and  brought  it  to 
David  ;  but  David  would  not  drink  of  it.  but  poured  it  out 
to  the  Lord.  (19.)  And  said.  My  God,  forbid  it  me  tliat 
I  should  do  this  thing ;  shall  I  drink  the  blood  of  those 
mon  ttiat  have  put  tlioir  Uvea  in  jcojiardy  ?  for  with  the 
jeopardy  of  their  lives  they  brought  it.  Therefore 
he  would  not  drink  it.  These  things  did  these  three 
mightiest." 


AQU2DUCT. 


141 


The  present  fountain  of  Bethlehem  \s  just  oittsido  the 
Tillage,  quite  close  to  the  convent,  ami  on  tlte  hill-sido.  Is 
it  the  cistern  that  was  at  the  gate,  and  where  David's 
soldiers  came  to  <!raw  water  ?  Tins  seems  possihie  ;  only 
I  must  observe  that  the  name  of  Biar-Baoud  sccnis  to 
connect  the  cisterns  we  are  now  visiting  with  the  curious 
Tact  which  wo  have  just  related. 

Whilst  Edward  continues  his  operations  to  procure  an 
exact  plan  of  this  relic,  I  hawten  on  to  Itachel's  tomb, 
attracted  by  tlic  hope  of  findiug  there  some  interesting 
and  perhaps  unknown  inscription.  We  arrive  at  the 
ancient  aqueduct,  which  I  have  already  mentioned  when 
deBCrihing  the  road  from  Jerusalem  to  Bcthlchoni,  and 
on  one  of  Uie  blocks  that  cover  in  this  aqueduct  (known 
to  the  Arabs  by  the  name  of  Qanat-cl-Tcluniffar).'  I 
am  shown  a  single  word,  written  in  characters  rather 
more  than  three  inches  high,  and  of  the  twelfth  century, 
judging  by  their  form.  This  word  is  Sirosi.  Is  it  the 
name  of  some  ItaUan  crusader  ? — or  of  an  ancestor  of  the 
illustrious  Florentine  family  of  the  Strozzi  ?  I  cannot 
venture  to  decide. 

As  I  am  at  tlie  aqueduct.  I  take  the  opportunity  of 
studying  its  coimtruction.  Tho  canal,  cut  out  of  tlte 
blocks  buried  in  the  ground,  is  covered  over  by  other 
blocks  formed  into  small  circular  arches,  alternately  jutting 
out  or  scooped  in,  about  four  Inches  in  thickness.  The 
blocks  are  a  yard  wide,  about  two  feet  and  a  half  ii] 
height,  and  the  canal  itself  is  eighteen  inches  broad.  No 
one  can  tell  me  exactly  where  the  aqueduct  terminates. 
The  lad  who  accompanies  me  pretends  that  it  unites  the 

•  llHtniBgin  Anbk  ih«  Ajwilite*  a/ tit  iHjIitrli.    Innnd  about  JoniHtloiii  tho 

iMt-T  K«f  U  |1tn«K>lltt«*<l  tllll. 


142 


RACTIKLS  TOHB. 


Boiirak  (meaning  the  celebrated  reserroirs, — or  tanks 
of  Solomon)  to  iho  city  of  Jcrusiileiu,  to  wliich  it 
conveys  their  waters.  AUboiigli  this  aqueduct  is  nearly 
over^-wlicrc  dismantled  of  its  casing,  Ibe  vater  is  still 
pure,  as  I  sec  when  the  casual  paBsers  drink  it  from 
their  hands. 

I  next  futcr  the  inclosupc  of  Racbt-rs  tomb,  where  I 
find  a  small  oualy  (chapel),  lately  built  and  wbite-washed. 
The  wails  are  covered  with  inscriptions  scrawled  by 
Mohammedan  or  Jewish  visitors.  Having  examined 
these,  I  return  to  Biar-Daoud.  where  1  find  Kdward. 
Itothscbild,  and  Philippe  searching  for  insects  under  the 
stones.  I  join  them,  and  in  another  half  hour  we  tliiok 
of  returning  to  the  convent. 

Intending  to  take  a  short  cut,  we  climb  over  a  dry 
stone  wall,  and  in  doing  this  I  am  chjver  enough  to  sit 
upon  my  compass,  which  I  had  placed  in  my  great-coat 
pocket,  and  crush  it  into  rragincutj^.  Luckily,  I  have 
another,  of  which  I  must  be  more  careful,  if  I  intend  to 
keep  a  reckoning  of  our  journey.  The  box,  which  I 
have  thrown  away,  affords  us  the  edifying  spectacle  of 
young  Arabs  fighting  furiously  with  each  other,  to 
decide  who  shall  remain  the  happy  possessor  of  suoh 
a  treasure.  1  am  obliged  to  check  the  skirmish,  aud 
reclaim  possession  of  the  box  as  a  present  for  our 
guide. 

We  re-enter  the  convent  by  the  small  low  door,  wbicb 
1  have  already  ntcutiouod,  and  against  which  you  run 
the  risk  of  breaking  your  head  unless  you  are  very  careftd. 
We  breakfast  with  all  spec*),  and  by  three  quarters  past 
cloven  take  our  departure  for  tlie  monastery  of  Mar-Saba. 
We  pass  along  the  side  of  the  hill  upon  which  Ibe  convent 


THE  JOl'BSEY   COSTISURD. 


US 


of  Bethlehem  stands,  and  take  our  course  directly  east 
towardii  the  bottom  of  the  valley.  The  valley  is  planted 
witli  very  poor-looking  oUvc  trees,  aud  the  road  is  rough 
and  fiiil  of  stones.  Fifteen  hundred  jard-s  from  Ikthlchem 
wo  reach  another  cistern,  howu  out  of  the  rock,  hut  too 
far  off  to  contend  with  Biar-I)aoud  for  the  honour  of 
liaring  produced  the  water  which  the  King  of  Israel 
offered  as  a  libation  to  the  Lord. 

Five  minutes  later  we  are  abreast  of  the  hauilet  of 
Beth-Saliour,  which  we  leave  about  four  hundred  yards  to 
our  right,  on  the  declivity  of  a  low,  rugged  limestone 
hill.  Five  hundred  yards  further  on  we  discover  to  our 
right  a  range  of  high  mouutnins,  the  summits  of  which 
may  be  si.\  thousand  yards  distant  from  the  road  wo  are 
following.  These  are  the  Djebel-Ouerdis.  Ilere  we 
cros-i  the  plain  commanded  hy  Bethlehem,  aud  move 
along  the  flank  of  the  opposite  hilts,  through  rocks  the 
formation  of  which  appears  identical  with  the  Jurassic 
Umostono.  We  next  enter  a  deeper  and  narrower  valley, 
intersected  by  the  dry  bed  of  a  small  torrent,  which  wc 
cross  several  tunes  while  Ibllowiiig  tho  beaten  track.  This 
ralley,  encircled  hy  rugged,  frowning  rocks,  is  called  the 
Ouad'Eloual).  On  either  eldo  wo  encounter  steep  and 
desokte  ravines,  untenanted  by  inhabitants,  which  give 
OS  a  tolerable  foretaste  of  the  deiicrts  we  are  alwut 
to  visiL 

At  half-past  twelve,  just  as  the  valley  opens  into  a 
small  plain,  a  Utile  more  than  four  Imiidrcd  yards  in 
diameter,  we  reach  a  paltry  Mussulman  oualy,  the  QoIh"- 
Elouah.  Beyond  tliis,  the  dale  narrows  ;  tlie  broken 
rocky  hillocks  become  more  numerous,  and  form  what 
tha  inhabitants  call  the  Djebei-el-QoumiUt.     At  a  quarter 


IM 


riBST  OUHPSB  OP  THK  DEAD  SEA. 


to  one  we  are  on  the  level  of  another  TsUey,  deeper,  but 
much  witler  tlian  the  last.  Here  the  rocks  are  inter^-cted 
hy  large  vt-ius  of  fljnt,  aiid  teriibiif  dislooateJ.  SevcH 
minutes  later  we  have  reached  the  termination  of  this  new 
valley.  It  ruuH  in  an  easterly  direction,  is  well  cultivated, 
and  we  observe  some  Arabs  tilling  with  ploughs  drawn 
hy  asses.  These  labourers  belong  to  the  Scheikh  Hamdan, 
who  returns  their  sidnam,  and  sliakcs  hands  with  them  as 
wo  paas  hy.  The  Ouad-el-Arays  (so  is  the  valley  called) 
is  edged  with  stone  hillocks,  and  exceeds  a  mite  in  length. 
We  cmei^e  from  it  by  ten  rniimtes  pa.'jt  one  ;  then  pureue 
for  a  short  lime  a  north-easterly  direction,  and  cross 
another  valley.  To  our  left,  about  fifteen  hundred  yards 
olf,  we  note  a  building  called  Dur-Mirbeh. 

At  twenty-three  minutes  past  one  we  reach  the  summit 
of  a  hill,  from  whence  we  obtain  our  first  view  of  the 
shores  of  the  Dead  Sea.  Wo  pause  for  several  minutes 
to  indulge  our  full  admiration  of  this  impn.'iiiig  spectacle. 
Before  us  lies  the  range  of  mountains  (yillcd  Djebel-llar- 
Saba ;  to  our  left,  a  formidable  precipice,  at  the  bottom  of 
which  winds  the  steep  bed  of  the  Ouad-en-Nar  (torrent 
of  Kedron).  From  this  we  are  at  the  distance  of  aljoui 
half  a  league  ;  but  it  benda  rapidly  towards  the  Djebol- 
Mar-Saba,  and  we  shall  most  probably  soon  come  up  with 
it,  for  the  convent  is  built  on  tlie  steep  dcchvity  of  its 
right  blink. 

Having  passed  another  ravine  at  forty  minutes  after 
one,  we  lile  along  a  narrow  neck  of  land  about  a  hundred 
yards  in  length,  uverlooklug,  on  the  left,  the  Kedron,  and 
oil  the  right  a  valley,  the  bottom  of  which  is  occupied  by 
the  numerous  black  tents  of  au  eucaiiipmcnt  of  Bedouins. 
Close  to  the  tents,  on  the  dank  ef  tlie  valley,  we  perceive 


MOlfABTBBY   OP   HAR-SABA. 


US 


some  tolerably  large  caves,  called  by  the  iohabitautii 
Morharrat-el-Hedjar.  On  Uie*  opponito  bank  of  Uio 
IvoJron,  to  our  left,  and  towarda  the  ftuut,  wo  note  a 
succession  of  clialky  hills,  commencing  at  the  distance  of 
about  half  a  league.  We  are  now  on  tlto  Bjebcl-Mar- 
Saba.  Pushing  on  for  some  miQutes  in  an  easterly 
direction,  then  descending  about  a  hundred  yards  by  a 
difficult  zigzag  path,  wo  find  oui-solves,  at  a  quai-ter  jiast 
tvo,  in  front  of  the  convent  where  we  come  to  ask  for 
hospitality.  The  Kodron,  which  hud  bucu  running  parallel 
with  our  road  foi-  several  thousand  yards,  now  crosses 
in  our  front,  and  goes  directly  south.  Two  masses  of 
buildings,  connected  by  a  double  wall,  and  erected  on  the 
oppowlc  aides  of  a  shallow  rarine,  constitute  the  Greek 
monastery  of  Mar-Saba.  The  building  on  tlie  rights 
reserved  for  Hie  reception  of  females  who  may  visit 
War-Saba,  is  in  consequence  named  J)cir-el-Benat.  These 
lofty  elevations  are  wiUiout  windows,  and  bear  exceedingly 
the  aspect  of  a  fortress  or  a  state  prison.  The  only 
enlraucc  h  by  a  small,  low,  and  strongly -socurod  gate. 
Immediately  over  this,  and  about  twenty  feet  above,  there 
is  a  narrow  gap,  or  loophole,  in  the  wall.  Wo  knock 
loudly  ;  a  basket  fastened  to  a  rope  is  lowered,  receives 
the  letter  of  the  patriarch,  antl  ascends  again  without 
any  visible  agency.  In  a  fuw  minutes  the  gate  opens, 
and  we  are  admitted  witliin  the  holy  asylum. 

1  make  no  attempt  to  count  tlie  stall's,  the  narrow 
corridors,  the  innumerable  turnings,  which  we  have  to 
traverse  before  reaching  tlic  euurt  of  the  convent. 
Kothiiig  can  be  more  extraordinary  tlian  the  situation 
of  this  edifice,  standing  perpcndiculai-ly  over  the  rugged 
bed  of   the    Redron.     A   small    garden,    planted    with 


i 


IM 


or  SiiST  8ABJL 


orange-trees,  occnpies  one  orOie  terraces ;  nnd  blackbirds. 
with  jellow  wings,  skipping  in  ereiy  direction,  impart 
«i&  tbeir  ineny  aao^  some  cheerfulness  to  tbis  dtsmal 
aanctaarj.  Tbese  birds,  we  are  tol4  constitute  the 
prtDcipal  amusement  of  tlie  monks  abut  up  in  Har-Saba, 
and  seem  to  bare  been  prorided  by  Proridenoe  for  that 
special  avocation.  We  hare  nerer  encountered  them 
anywhere  else ;  and  Uicy  are  called  in  couscqucnoe  tbe 
pigeons  of  Saint  Saba. 

The  monks  treat  as  with  much  kindness,  and  are  eager 
to  show  the  marvels  of  tbt^  monastery.  These  wonders 
oonaist,  first  of  ali,  of  a  chapel  of  liitlc  pretension,  crowded, 
according  to  the  Greek  fashion,  with  miserable  pictures  iu 
Uic  worst  poswblc  tasie.  From  the  interior  of  the  chapel 
a  narrow  and  steep  corridor  leads  rs  to  an  opening  over- 
hanging the  Kcdron.  A  ladder  about  twelve  foot  long, 
which  the  monks  arc  very  careful  to  draw  up  after  them, 
leads  down  into  tlie  betl  of  the  torrent  To  the  left  of 
the  spot  where  you  alight  i:i  a  low  grotto^  at  the  bottom 
of  which  rises  a  cold  and  very  limpid  spring.  This  is  tbo 
spring  of  Saint  Saba,  the  pious  hermit  who  has  given  his 
name  to  the  convent. 

The  banks  of  the  Kcdron  are  formed  by  walls  of 
natural  rocks,  perforated  with  caves,  but  at  present 
inaccessible.  The  entran(^cs  are  barricaded  by  piles  of 
stones  without  mortar,  which  indicate  that  tliej  havo 
been  formerly  inhabited.  By  whom  1  The  monks  tell 
us  by  anchorites,  who,  retiring  from  the  world,  came  to 
live  and  die  in  this  desert.  The  Scheikh  Uamdan  is  not 
of  the  same  opinion.  According  to  his  version,  the 
convent  has  succeedetl  to  an  ancient  Jcwiah  town,  tlio 
inhabitants  of  which  lived  in  the  cares  and  built  the  walls 


I 


THE   BSSEWUNB. 


Mt 


nhich  so  much  asloiiish  us.  The  true  solution  appears 
to  be  tfiat  wo  have  before  us  numerouB  samples  of  Die 
retreats  iuliabitcd  in  ancient  days  by  the  primitive 
EsseniauB. 

In  every  direction  the  eye  rests  on  naked  rocks,  witJi- 
out  a  blade  of  grass — a  universal  barrenness  which  strikes 
the  Leai't  with  melancholy.  Nevertheless,  we  find  scat- 
tered hero  uiid  there  on  the  banks  of  the  torrent  soino 
pretty  hyacinths,  with  a  deligiitful  perfume.  A  few  dwarf 
bushes,  very  thorny,  and  as  brittle  as  glass,  complete  the 
TCgctatioD  of  Har-Saba  at  ttie  time  of  our  vi^t  Tlie 
rains  have  probably  swollen  the  Kedron  a  few  days  before 
our  arrival,  for  we  find  at  the  bottom  of  the  bed  some 
small  ponds  of  clear  water,  but  so  shallow  that  two  or 
throe  days'  sim  must  dry  them  up. 

I  have  named  the  Essenians  ;  let  us  inquire  a  little  into 
the  tenets  of  the  sect  of  Jewish  onthusiiiHts  anciently  called 
by  that  name.  The  historian  Josephus  fui-nishcs  us  with 
the  neceesarj'  information.  Kver  since  the  days  of  tlio 
Asmoncan  prince,  Jonathan,  tho  Jowisli  natiou  had  been 
divided  into  three  sects — the  Pharisees,  the  Sadducees, 
and  the  Bsscninna.  The  iloctrinc  of  the  Pharisoc«  admitted 
tliat  some  events,  but  not  all,  were  regulated  by  Provi- 
dence. According  to  them,  mnch  depended  entirely  on 
human  will.  The  Sadduceea,  on  tho  contrary,  acknow- 
ledged no  interference  of  ProridoDce  in  the  affairs  of  the 
world,  and  denied  the  existence  of  such  a  power.  Accord- 
ing to  their  creed,  ail  the  occurrences  of  this  life  were 
sabmittcd  to  human  control ;  so  that  Iiappiucss  was  the 
fruit  of  man's  own  wisdom,  and  unhappiness  the  con- 
sequence of  his  folly.  The  Essonians  asserted  that 
everytliing  rested  with   Providence,   and    that   nothing 


HA 


THE   E88RMASS. 


could  happen  to  man  unless  it  was  prc-oritaincil     (Ant 
Ju«L  satL  T.  9.) 

These  sectarians  were  in  high  estimation  with  King 
Herod  the  Great,  for  which  Josephus  assigns  the  follow- 
ing reason : — "  Amongst  them  was  a  man  reputed  abore 
all  others  for  the  holiness  of  his  life,  and  who  foresaw  the 
future  by  a  divine  intuition  ;  hb  name  was  Mauahcm. 
This  Manalieni,  meeting  Uerod  one  dajr,  when  a  cliild,  as 
ho  was  going  to  school,  predicted  to  him  that  ho  would 
become  king  of  tlie  Jews.  Uerod,  thinking  that  the 
Esscnian  either  did  Dot  know  him,  or  was  mocking  hlra, 
trpUcd  that  he  was  of  humble  extraction.  But  IVtanahem, 
smiling,  stnick  him  with  his  hand,  and  said, '  Thuu  shall 
reign  ;  never  forget  the  blows  which  llanahem  has  given 
thee  on  this  day,  so  that  thou  mayest  remember  that 
fortime  is  but  fickle.  It  shall  he  well  for  thee  if  thou 
lovest  justice,  religion  towards  God,  and  clemency  towards 
thy  fellow-countrymen.  Unfortunately,  I,  who  know 
everytliing,  know  that  such  wilt  not  be  thy  behaviour; 
thou  shalt  he  prosperous,  thou  slialt  acquire  everlasting 
renown,  but  thou  wilt  forget  religion  and  justice,  and  at 
the  end  of  thy  life  God  will  punish  thee.'  At  tliat  time. 
Herod  paid  no  attention  to  this  prophecy ;  but  when 
fortune  had  made  him  a  king,  he  sent  for  JIanahem,  and 
asked  him  how  long  his  reign  would  kst.  The  Essonian 
made  no  answer ;  and  Herod  repeated  his  question : 
*  Shall  I  reign  ton  years  ? '  '  Thou  shalt  reign  twenty, 
nay.  thirty  years ;  but  I  caunot  name  the  period  of  thy 
existence.'  Herod  was  satisfied  with  this  answer,  shook 
Manalicm  by  the  hand,  and  allowed  him  to  depart.  From 
that  day  the  monarch  felt  a  great  veneration  for  the 
ENst'iiians,"     (Ant.  Jud.  xv.,  x.  5.) 


THR    ESSE^'UNS. 


U9 


In  another  passage  (Ant  Jud.  xviii.,  ii.  5),  the  liUtoriaa 
of  the  Jews  alluJcs  again  to  the  doctrine  of  the  Essenians, 
and  expresses  himself  thus  : — "  The  Essciiiaris  hcliovc  that 
cverytliing  iiiiiHt  be  left  to  the  will  of  God.  They  admit 
that  the  soul  is  immortal.  They  send,  indeed,  presents 
to  the  temple,  but  they  do  not  attend  to  cclchratc  any 
rehgious  ceremony,  because  they  believe  that  they  offer 
to  the  Alraiglity  a  more  satisfactory  worship  in  their  own 
common  sanctuary.  In  other  respects,  they  are  excellent 
people,  employing  themselves  much  in  agriculture.  Justice 
is  so  much  respected  by  them  that  their  behaviour 
deserves  every  admu-ation.  All  goods  are  in  common,  and 
the  rich  man  does  not  take  a  larger  tiliarc  tliau  the  jioor 
man  who  has  nothing.  They  arc  above  four  thousand  in 
number.  They  have  neither  wives  nor  seriants.  They 
live,  each  man  by  himself,  but  they  a^st  one  another. 
They  select  from  amongst  theU-  own  body  collectors  of  the 
public  revenue.  Those  who  are  so  chosen  exercise  a  true 
priesthood ;  their  office  is  to  provide  the  subsisteucc  for 
the  community.  Lastly,  all  submit  to  the  same  uniform 
r^ulations." 

It  would  occupy  teo  much  space  to  introduce  here  all 
the  dctaib)  given  by  Josephus,  in  other  passages,  of  the 
customs  of  the  Esseniaus.  Let  me  rather  refer  the  reader  to 
the  history  itself.    (See  Bell.  Jud.  ll.  viii.  3.  and  following.) 

Plbiy  (Hist.  NaL,  lib.  v.,  cap.  xvii.)  informs  us  tluit  tlie 
Essenians  inhabited  the  western  coast  of  the  Asphaltic 
Lake.  He  writes  as  follows : — "*  To  the  westward,  tlie 
Essenians  draw  off  from  the  shore  until  its  vicinity  ceases 
to  be  noxious.  They  are  a  people  unlike  any  other  people 
ID  the  world.  They  have  no  women,  no  natural  affections, 
no  money,  no  companions  but  the  palm-trees.     Every  day 


ISO 


vm  nsBHiANs. 


their  number  is  increased  by  the  addition  of  candidates, 
who,  wearied  with  a  worldly  life,  expect  repose  in  uticr 
sccluidou ;  and  thus,  througl)  centuries,  these  people 
miraciUously  exist  without  propagation.  Below  the 
conntry  of  the  Kssenians  in  Eiigadda,"  &c. 

Salvian  (Thosaurus  Rcruin  toto  Orbo  Jlemorabilium, 
cap.  xxxriii.)  repeats  the  same  facts,  nearly  in  the  rery 
same  words ;  it  is  evident  that  he  has  copiod  PUuy, 
clothing  his  ideas  after  his  own  fashion. 

Let  us  return  to  o«r  ramble  around  Mar-Saba.  Leaving 
the  bod  of  tho  Kedron,  we  ascend  between  the  rocks  tlie 
height  on  which  stands  the  Deir-ol-Benat.  On  the  way 
we  enter  a  spacious  care,  closed  in  with  a  wall,  and  find 
ourselves  in  one  of  tho  sinj^lar  habitations  of  tho 
Esseoians.  The  rocit  is  rudely  excavated,  and  exhibits 
no  signs  of  laboured  workniansliip.  It  is  evident  tliat, 
whoever  Uved  here,  was  satisfied  witJj  a  retreat,  and 
smiglit  for  nothing  more. 

Philippe  has  picked  up,  in  tJie  bed  of  the  torrent,  S0ni0>j 
cubes  of  white  atone,  whicli  have  unquestionably  bclongcii' 
to  some  very  ancient  mosaic.  Have  these  cubes  been 
carried  by  the  Kedron  from  .Icrusalem  to  this  spot  \ 
^Nothing  can  be  more  unlikely  ;  and  yet.  in  size,  in  shape, 
and  materials,  they  are  identical  with  those  which  are 
pictccd  up  in  innncnse  quantities  in  the  Kedron,  in  tho 
valley  of  Jehoshaphat.  Our  doubts  are  soon  removed ; 
as  we  follow  a  drain  constructed  by  the  monks  between 
the  two  divisions  of  the  couvctit,  we  find  entire  rows  and 
sLibs  of  these  cubes  in  regular  position.  Here,  then,  has 
existed,  .it  a  very  remote  period,  an  important  structure, 
Perliaps  the  principal  sanctuary  of  the  Kssenians,  tho 
situation  of  which  lias  bocu  inherited  by  the  convcut  of 


PBOrOSAL  TO   ISCRBASE  ESCORT. 


l&l 


just  as  mauy  otiicr  religious  monuments  have 
succeeded  those  belonging  to  the  creeds  overthroMu  by 
Christianit}'.  Tbo  conclusion  is  probable,  although  I 
cauiioi  venture  to  affirm  it. 

Our  first  ramble  has  been  most  productive :  laudshclls 
and  curious  insects  have  been  gathero<l  in  great  abundance, 
giving  good  promise  of  what  is  yot  in  Ktoro  ;  but,  under 
every  stone  tiUTied  over  by  our  natunUista,  scorpions  and 
scolopcndras  abound.  They  are  not  yet  sufficiently  accus- 
tomed to  these  new  accjuaiutanceB  to  find  them  under  their 
hands  tvithout  a  sliuddcr. 

Hamdai)  comes  to  auiiounce  the  safe  arrival  of  our 
lu^age.  The  ScheikJt  looks  thoughtful,  so  I  enquire  the 
reason  of  his  apparent  anxiety.  He  answers  nie  as  fol- 
lows : — "  Thou  hast  many  loaded  mules,  the  siglit  of  which 
is  sure  to  excite  tho  cupidity  of  tlio  Bedouins  wo  are  hkely 
to  fail  in  with.  Of  course  they  must  kill  us  all  before  tiiey 
touch  a  single  hair  of  thine  head ;  but  our  uumbor  h  too 
small  to  keep  a  sufHcient  watch,  niglit  and  day,  and  to 
defend  thoo,  if  need  be,  from  such  attacks  as  are  likely  to 
be  directed  against  thy  caravan.  If  thou  dost  not  double 
the  number  of  men,  on  foot  as  well  as  on  horseback,  who 
march  witli  mo,  assuredly  wc  shall  all  perish.  Now  that 
I  have  warned  thee,  choose  what  tliou  wilt  do."  To  this 
not  very  encouraging  declaration,  which  I  liastencd  to 
communicate  to  my  companions,  there  was  but  one  answctr 
to  be  returned.  I  autlioiised  the  8choikh  to  double  the 
uumbor  of  our  escort,  and  he  pledged  himself  tliat  the  very 
next  morning  the  reinforcement  should  arrive.  Mcidany 
vas  therefore  immediately  despalehed  to  the  tents  of 
Tliaatiiem,  with  orders  to  bring  back  the  additional  force 
we  required. 


152 


BTKAKUK  SUB^ITUTK   VVK   A   DBLL. 


As  dayliglit  waned,  we  re-cntcrcd  the  inclosnre  of  tlie 
monaster)'.  An  Lour  afterwards,  dinner  was  served  up  in 
a  room  fumishod  completely  round  with  large  cushione<i 
dirniLS :  these  divans  were  mattresses  spread  on  tlio 
ground.  Our  evening  passed  tranquill}'  in  writing  down 
the  observations  of  the  da}%  iu  an-auging  our  zoological 
acquisitions,  and  in  smoking,  as  we  chatted,  innumerable 
tctiibouks.  At  lH.st  the  cold  began  to  intrude,  and  there 
was  no  other  meaus  of  escaping  it  but  by  retiring  to  bed. 
By  ten  o'clock  we  were  stretched  upon  couelies  much 
harder  tlian  the  divans  of  the  dining-room,  but  enjoying 
notwithstanding,  a  sound  and  refreshing  rest. 

At  midnight  wc  were  suddenly  atartled  from  our  slum- 
bers by  a  most  extriiordinnry  hubbub.  Certainly  no  bells 
ever  rang  out  such  a  discordant  cliiminy  as  that  we  heard, 
calling  the  monkfi  to  the  office  of  the  night.  On  the  fol- 
lowing day  the  mystery  was  explained  to  ns.  Some  strong 
iron  bars  are  firmly  fixed  by  one  end  in  the  wall  of  tlie 
chapel,  and  the.se  bars,  rudely  struck  by  another,  produce 
the  extraordinary  sounds  which  here  superseile  the  duties 
of  a  bell.  On  the  whole  (not  reckoning  the  vermin),  onr 
night  has  been  satisfactory.  We  have  slept  well ;  and,  on 
rising,  feel  quite  fresh  and  hearty. 

JatHUJffHA. 

Yesterday  I  thought  I  had  perceived  that  the  Scheikh 
ilamdan  felt  a  Uttte  uncomfortable  at  the  presence  of 
Jlohammed.  I  had,  therefore,  made  up  my  mind  to  sentl 
him  back.  A  conversation  with  the  ScJieikh  has  removed 
my  impression  ;  and  I  have  retained  my  trusty  follower. 
Aly  Bedouins  have  all  positively  assured  me  that  they  have 
no  dislike  to  Ibis  comrade,  whose  presence  1  thought  might 
be  a  restraint  on  their  usual  habits.      Everything  hceius 


ARRIVAL  DP  A   HEISTOItCEMKNT. 


114 


well  arranged,  aad  we  have  now  only  to  tliiuk  of  our 
departure. 

Once  more  a  repetition  of  tlio  hesitation,  delay,  noise^ 
mid  brawling  which  accompanied  our  departure  from  Bey- 
rout.  We  were  ready  by  seven,  but  it  is  tea  before  we 
are  permitted  to  mount.  Hanidan  has  kept  his  word ; 
the  additional  escort  lie  undertook  to  provide  arrived  at 
dawn  ;  aiid  whilst  wc  are  vainly  trying  to  Btimulatc  tho 
activity  of  our  shiggish  monkiis,  the  Bedouins  squatted  on 
a  mound  in  front  of  the  convent  gate,  with  their  horses 
|Mcketed  to  their  lances,  fonn  a  striking  and  picturestiuo 
group.  No  trace  of  impatience  appears  on  their  im- 
moTable  visages.  They  whisper  and  smoke  quietly,  without 
seeming  even  to  be  aware  of  the  ill-humour,  which  we 
chock  at  last  by  angry  words  and  sound  blows. 

1  try  in  vain  to  kill  time  by  collecting  some  fragments 
of  fossil  ammonites,  whi(;h  characterise  the  soil  upon  which 
the  convent  is  built.  Tlirce  long  hours  are  consumed  in 
running  from  one  mule  to  another,  and  in  pacif^^'ing  two 
pugnacious  moukris,  by  thrashing  botli.  At  last,  Allah  be 
praised  I  all  are  ready  ;  and  the  signal  of  departure  is 
given.  Our  Bedouins  leap  into  the  saddle,  gallop  off  to 
the  front,  and  lead  the  way.  With  marvellous  circumspec- 
tion they  reconnoitre  every  hillock,  aud  cxamino  every 
hollow ;  and  truly  tlioy  have  enough  to  do,  for  it  would 
'he  didicuH  to  find  a  (Country  more  broken  and  rugged. 
Ou  every  aide  the  liuiostonc  rocks,  with  their  jagged 
surface,  are  interspersed  with  veins  of  twisted  flinty 
alirivcUcd  up  like  the  strings  of  a  violin,  grilled  in  a 
frying-pan. 

Hamdan  has  resumed  his  habitual  self-possession,  and 
rides  gravely  with  the  advanced  giurd  of  his  little  army. 


IIM 


THE    LINK   or   HJLKCH. 


All  our  Bedouins  have  a  frank  aud  trus^  look.  Not 
uf  tlicm  loses  nn  opportunity  of  friendly  greeting,  wlwo  be 
hap[K-iis  to  be  near  us.  Tlioir  ordtuary  phrase  ia  tlu» — 
"  Eute  oinbsouth  I  Ana  tnabsouth ;  Roullhou  mataoatlL." 
("  Aro  you  satisfied  ?  I  am  satisfied.  We  arc  aU  satis- 
fied.") Ttic  Eliatil)  aud  Aliouad  especially  dctgt  fail  to 
repeat  tlii».  Alionad,  who  sees  tne  rather  incominoded  by 
niy  hi-avy  double-barrelled  gun,  offers  to  relieve  mo  from 
the  burtlien.  1  entrust  biui  with  it,  on  condition  that  he 
always  keeps  close  to  me,  that  I  may  resume  it  at  any 
given  momouL  Edward  is  condemned  to  follow  me 
Hluioat  stop  by  step,  to  be  ready  to  tell  me  the  hour  every 
tiiiio  wo  alter  tlie  bearing  of  our  n>uto  and  I  require  to 
study  tlie  ci>iujtass.  Generally,  when  I  call  upon  him  to 
hiok  nt  his  watch,  he  is  busily  engaged  filling  his  pipe,  or 
lighting  a  cigar,  which  leads  to  some  humorous  alterca- 
tions. If  he  happen  to  be  too  slow,  I  treat  him  to  a  voUey 
uf  nhiiso  iu  the  itaiiic  of  injured  topography,  to  which  he 
uutmllj'  replies  by  Laughing  in  my  face. 

1  luid  not  yet  t:.\perienced  the  pleasures  of  traTellingin 
eiiich  a  country  with  loaded  mules  ;  and  now,  for  the  first 
timOi  I  learn  experimentally  how  much  passion  these  self- 
willed  brutes  will  force  a  man  to  waste  who  has  no 
disposition  to  lose  time,  as  the  moukris  affect  great  inde- 
pendence, and  nerer  look  after  dicii'  beasts  unless  they  aro 
compelled  ;  the  liiules  also  pretend  to  be  as  independent 
as  their  masters,  and,  guided  by  the  stubborn  habit  of 
selecting  the  most  impracticable  paths,  generally  suocoed 
in  throwing  themselves  down.  The  loads  fall  on  one  side 
— the  animals  on  the  other ;  then  the  men  come  up, 
(MTcaming  and  making  a  great  display  of  zeal  to  remedy 
the  disaster,  which  a  very  httle  care  would  have  avoided. 


1 
I 


8AKKS  OP  TUE   KBUBOK. 


155 


[d  the  meanwhile  tlic  traveller's  tinio  is  toxt,  or  uselessly 
employed  in  cursing  both  mules  and  moukris. 

The  European  section  of  our  caravan  has  decreMed  by 

[the  departure  uf   Mossri^.   Fizxamano  and  Harbier,  who 
uturncd  to  Jerusalem  at  the  same  time  wc  were  Btarting 
for  the  Dead  Sea.     These  gentlemen  had  been  long  enough 

iveiiii  us  the  day  before  to  find  it  rather  tedious  to  accom- 
pany traveller  who  think  themselves  called  upon  to  map 
tlie  country  they  pass  through.  They  therefore  declined 
persevering   with    us  in  our  adventurous  peregrination. 

fhul  to  return  to  our  route. 

On  leaving  tlie  convent  of  Mar-Saba,  we  proceed  firnt 

"nortli-uortli-east,  following  the  course  of  the  llodron,  the 
bed  of  which  is  at  least  a  hundred  yards  in  depth.     Along 

iiiie  banks,  as  we  can  easily    distingtiisli,   tlio    Ksseinan 

[excavations  increase  in  number.     Gradually   our  road 

fjdescends  to  the  level  of  the  bed,  which  we  cross  at  twenty- 
six  minutes  past  ten.  having  been  on  our  way  twenty-two 

|lutuut«s,  twelve  of  which  have  been  lost  in  picking  up 
fallen  mules  and  luggage.     Wo  then  enter  the  bed  of 

'another  torrent,  which  comes  directly  fmni  the  east  to 
empty  itself  into  the  Kedron,  as  do  several  others  running 
from  nortli  to  .south. 

At  the  junction  of  the  Kedron  and  the  new  torrent, 
which  we  are  about  to  follow,  there  is  a  well  hollowed 
in  the  rock,  the  name  of  which  I  have  not  boon  able  to 
ieam  from  any  one  of  our  Bedouins.  They  call  it  simply, 
i  KUBor,  the  well ;  and  thus  I  am  aa  wise  as  I  was 
before. 

Eighteen  mmntes  siifiice  to  take  its  to  the  source  of  tlio 
I  torrent.  Wo  now  enter  on  a  narruw  table  land,  bounded 
Lby  low  hilht,  and  crossed  by  the  dry  bed  of  a  rivulet 


18S 


mtcsoii.  ArruuKS  or  tub  bocks. 


rmuiing  from  Dorili  to  soitUi :  Itere  we  find  an  enaunp- 
ment  of  Bedouins,  vbose  ridnitT  ire  are  nutde  aware  of 
b;  a  host  of  half-naked  chndreo,  women  in  blue  stiirts, 
and  harking  dogs,  all  hurrriog  out  to  gate  on  us.  though 
at  a  sufficiently  respectfiil  distance;  Tbej  are  friends  of 
8cheikl]  Hamdan,  who  occupj  this  country  ;  wc  therefore 
pass  close  to  ihcm  without  feeUng  any  uneasiness. 

At  fiftj-foar  minutes  past  ten,  we  hare  creased  the 
plain.    Then  a  rockj  descent  takes  us  to  the  hottom  of  a 
nigged  valley  by  nine  minutes  past  eleven.    Here  again 
oar  mules  detain  us  five-and-twenty  minutes.      As   we 
cannot  leave  our  luggage  to  take  care  of  itself,  if  we  ever 
Irish  to  see  it  again,  we  are  obliged  to  halt  every  time  our 
mules  are  pleased  to  roll  into  a  pit,  which  occurs  inces- 
santly.    I  profit  by  this  involuntary  halt,  to  take  a  glance 
at  the  surrounding  country.      To  the  right  is  a  range  of 
hills  of  DO  groat  height,  the  centre  of  whiclt  is  distant 
about  live  miles  and  a  half.     This  is  tbc  Djebel  Emdenys. 
Beyond  is  an  cxtcn^vc  plain,  divided  by  the  Ouad-en- 
Nar,  or  Eedron :   this  is  called    the    Mcrdj-cl-Bcqaa. 
Before  us,  to  tbc  east,  an    unbroken  range  of  calcareous 
hillocks ;    and    lastly    to    our    Icfl,    several    detached 
niuuiitaius,  the  highest  of  which  is  about  a  league  from 
where  we  stand.      The  fonuatiou  is  always  the  same, 
limestone  rock,  intersected  by  laige  veins  of  flinty  curled 
and  twisted  as  if  by  the  effect  of  fire.    On  the  side  of 
this  mountain,  to  our  left,  we  descry  a  large  reddish  spot. 
I  send  one  of  our  lledouins  to  bring  me  a  sample  of  the 
rock  that  gives  it  this  colour,  so  different  from  the  yetlowisb 
white   appearance    of    the  whole  surrouniUng  country- 
The  fragments  which  he  produces  resemble  exactly  Uie 
limestone  of  our  own  country  after  it  lias  been  burnt. 


BTfDBNOES, 


167 


We  are  off  agaiu  at  thirty-five  rainutea  past  eleTei)  j 
ten  niimites  later  we  pass  the  red  spot,  tbeu  proceed 
along  tlio  MerUj-cl-Heqaa,  ami  after  mid-day,  almost 
constantly  eastward,  after  having  observed,  two  thousand 
yards  distant  to  our  left,  and  backed  by  broken  clifTSj  a 
ruin  called  by  the  Arabs,  Qakat-ol-Mardch.  Concerning 
this  Qalaat  or  fortress.  Hamdan  tells  me  that  it  is  a  ruined 
castle,  fonnorly  inhabited  by  giants,  whose  bones  have 
been  found  in  the  neighbouring  tombs.  How  much  of 
this  Arab  legend  is  true  l  I  cannot  tell,  and  1  have  uo 
time  to  iiKiuiro,  We  follow  again  the  dry  bed  of  a 
torrent,  turning  eastward.  It  begins  between  chalky 
hillocks,  through  which  it  runs  nearly  in  a  straight  line 
for  Uttle  less  than  three  thousand  yards ;  then  it 
sinks  to  a  con.siderabIe  depth,  and  its  banks  become 
vtTV  steep ;  the  stones  of  whicli  they  are  composed, 
appear  as  if  they  had  been  scorched  by  a  violent 
fire. 

At  half-past  twelve  vc  halt  about  half  an  hour  for 
breakfa.'rt ;  then  we  resume  otir  march  in  a  south- 
easterly direction,  drawing  towai-ds  the  Oiuid-en-Nar, 
or  rather  this  torrent  by  a  sudden  turn  inclines  towards 
our  road.  After  having  passed  numerous  hollows,  and 
wound  along  a  number  of  hltls,  alt  exhibiting  the  marks 
of  fire  as  I  liave  already  often  mentioned ;  and  after 
having  (from  twenty  minutes  past  one)  proceeded 
invariably  towards  the  east,  we  ai-rivo  at  fifty  minutes 
past  one  on  the  last  crest  which  separates  us  irom  the 
shores  we  were  so  anxious  to  behold.  We  are  now  nearly 
opposite  the  fountain  called  Ayn-fechkhah  ;  but  to  reach 
it  we  have  to  encounter  one  of  those  perilous  descents 
leading  from  the  summits  of  the  mountains  of  Canaan  to 


IM 


TRl  SnOKB  or  tBB  MUfi  SEJL 


the  borders  of  tbe  Dead  Sea.  How  am  men  and  beasts 
get  over  SDcb  difficttlUes  1  Eren  now  that  I  have 
aarpa«ed  them.  I  can  scarcely  imdentaiid.  By  six 
mumtea  after  three  we  readi  the  lerd  of  tbe  Bhore,  not 
more  than  two  hondred  vards  from  the  water.  From  the 
mmmh  of  the  mouDtain  which  we  hare  jost  descendedr 
this  strange  sea,  which  all  writers  describe  as  presenting 
the  most  dismal  aspect,  af^icarcd  to  us  like  a  splendid 
lake,  glittering  in  the  sunshine,  with  its  blue  wares  genti; 
breaking  on  the  sands  of  the  soReat  besdi.  Through 
the  transparent  water  appeared  a  white  tint  which 
enlirened  the  shore.  We  gnessed  at  once  that  this 
ap)>carance  was  owing  to  the  salt  cry5tallbe<l  under  the 
water,  and  when  near,  we  End  that  our  conjecture  is 
right. 

Are  we  now  to  be  convinced  that  no  living  thing  can 
exist  on  the  shores  of  the  Dead  Sea,  as  has  been  so  often 
rc|>cated?  We  ascertain  the  contrary  feet  the  very 
moment  we  toucli  the  shore.  A  flock  of  wild  ducks  rises 
before  ns  and  settles  on  the  water  out  of  gun-shot, 
where  they  begin  sporting  and  diving  with  perfect 
unconcern.  As  we  advance,  beautiful  insects  show 
theinselyes  on  the  gravelly  beach  ;  rooks  are  flying  and 
scrcamiug  among  the  rent  cliila  of  the  steep  bills  which 
border  the  lake. 

Where  then  are  tliosc  jioiHotiDiis  vapours  whicli  carry 
death  to  all  who  venture  to  approach  them  1  Where  ? 
In  the  writings  of  the  poets  who  have  emphatically 
described  what  they  luivo  never  soeii.  We  ai-e  not 
yet  five  minutes  treading  the  sliores  of  the  Dead  Sea,  and 
already,  all  that  has  been  said  of  it  appears  as  mei'e 
creations  of  tlie  faucy.    Let  us  then  jiroceed  fearlessly 


TDK  SHORES  Of   TIIK   1)K.\I)   SKA. 


159 


forward,  for  if  aiiytliing  is  to  be  dreaded  here,  certainly 
it  is  not  the  pestilential  iofiuence  of  the  finest  and  tiio 
most  imposing  lake  in  tlio  workl. 

Prom  Uie  spot  where  wc  readied  the  shore,  wc  move 
directly  south,  and  enter  the  delta,  sitiiated  al  the  mouth 
of  the  Oua<i-en-Nar.  This  delta  is  composed  of  gravelly 
downs,  fmrowcd  by  the  deep  water-courses  vrhich  convey 
to  the  sea  the  watere  of  the  Kedron.  when  the  rains  give 
to  tliat  stream  an  ephemeral  existence.  This  delta  occu- 
pies aloug  the  sliore  a  space  about  a  thousand  yards 
broad  ;  and  from  the  cliffs  to  the  sea,  the  distance  covered 
by  the  downs  is  ahto  about  a  thousand  yards.  The  mouth 
of  the  ICcdron  itself,  wlicro  the  steep  hills,  rent  by  the 
torrent,  dip  vertically  down  upon  the  beach,  is  between 
five  and  six  hundred  yardii  wide.  T!ie  present  bed  is  at 
the  southern  extremity  of  the  delta.  On  leaving  tho 
mountain  it  nins  south,  but  turns  off  almost  immediately 
to  tlio  eastward,  where  it  loses  itself  on  tlio  beach.  We 
need  scarcely  add  tliat  it  abutmds  in  scattered  fragments 
of  rock  or  boulders,  swept  along  by  the  force  of  Uic 
torrent  in  ite  periodical  overflows. 

Beyond  the  delta,  wc  cross,  at  half-past  three,  an 
mmamed  ravine,  passing  easterly  through  a  chasm  in 
the  clifis.  ]-'rom  tliis  spot,  t]ie  ground  wo  move  on  ia 
composed  of  very  fine  Ught  sand,  in  which  our  horses' 
feet  sink  at  every  step.  This  sand  is  eflBorcscent  at  the 
surface,  owing  to  the  aoU  bcuig  saturated  with  salt, 
occasioned  by  the  reflux  of  the  water  during  the  summer 
month.s  when  the  level  of  the  lake  becomes  lower.  I  say 
the  level  falls,  and  this  fact  cannot  be  doubted,  for  at 
about  ten  yards  from  the  shore  there  arc  tnmks  of  trees 
half  buried  in  the  sand.      On  seeing  them  one   would 


160 


THE   SHORES  OP   THE   DMD  SBJL 


tlunk  they  had  been  bumt,  for  the  wood  is  quite  black,  as 
if  takca  from  a  fire.  Judging  by  the  state  they  are  in, 
these  trees  have  lain,  most  probably,  for  centuries  in  the 
same  place.  Carried  away  by  the  mountain  torrents 
vhich  empty  tlicmselvcs  into  the  Dead  Sea,  they  have 
been  deposited  on  the  shore  by  tlicse  waters.  Every 
year,  no  doubt,  the  number  of  these  ominous-looking 
trees  increases  during  the  rainy  seasou  ;  and  the  Jordan, 
running  with  great  violence  between  hanks  well  fumislicd 
vith  r^^tation,  miuit  have  BuppUed  the  greater  portion 
of  this  floated  forest. 

At  the  point  we  have  reached  by  fifty-six  minutes 
past  three,  the  shore  is  scarcely  four  hundred  yards 
broad,  and  the  inaccessible  cUfla  rise  pcrpendiculariy. 
Another  water-course  forms  here  another  delta,  much 
smaller  than  that  of  the  Kcdron,  for  it  only  iua-cases 
the  beach  by  two  huiulred  yards.  The  nature  of  the 
soil  is  still  tbu  same.  Suddenly  the  shore  hollows  into  a 
gulf  and  draws  towards  the  foot  of  the  mountain, 
from  which  it  is  separated  scarcely  two  hundred  yards. 
By  three  minutes  past  four  we  descry  a  grotto  hollowed 
in  the  ado  of  the  clilf,  abuut  three  hmidred  yards  from 
us.  A  little  fiirther  on,  an  opening  in  the  rot^s  gives 
passage  to  the  bed  of  a  ciiscadu  which  has  covered  the 
beach  with  pebbles.  Soon  after  this  the  shore  disappears 
under  a  tangled  cover  of  gigantic  reeds,  coming  up  to 
within  a  few  yards  of  the  cliiF.  Their  presence  is  owing 
to  a  magnificent  fuuutain  of  sweet  warm  water,  peopled 
with  myriads  of  shells  of  the  species  of  Melanopsis  and 
Werita.  Several  beautiful  Idngfishci-s  flutter  over  tlio 
rivulet  formed  by  the  spring,  which  is  called  Ayn-el- 
Klioueyr  (the  brook  of  the  httlc  morass.)     Wo  hall  here 


THE  SHORES  OF  TflE   DEAD  SKA. 


Ifil 


at  a  quarter  to  five,  and  our  tents  are  quickly  pitched, 
witliiu  fifty  yards  of  tho  spring. 

Whilst  we  have  been  following^  the  beach,  our  Bedouins 
have  gone  in  quest  of  pieces  of  bitumen  and  sulplmr, 
■which  the  lake  often  casts  upon  its  shores.  Tliey  Iiavo 
picked  up  a  good  many,  but  what  they  most  rejoice  in 
sliowing  me,  is  a  smaU  dead  fish  which  they  dincoTered 
on  the  sand.  At  first  wc  arc  incliiicd  to  attribute  one 
more  error  to  the  writers  who  have  said  so  much  con- 
cerning Uio  Dead  Sea.  Tliis  fi»h,  picked  up  at  a  distaiioo 
of  several  leagues  from  any  river,  has  also  quite  the  out^ 
ward  appearance  of  a  sea  fish.  Are  we  to  conclude  from 
this,  that  creatures  of  tiiia  kind  really  live  iu  tlio  lake? 
Our  Be<louinB  alone  can  decide  the  point.  We  question 
them  one  after  the  other,  and  from  their  answers, 
perfectly  coincident,  we  feel  convinced  that  no  fish 
indigenously  belongs  to  these  waters  saturated  with 
salt.  The  llooda  of  tho  Jordan  and  of  tho  Anion 
(called  by  the  Arabs  Cheryat-el-Kibir,  and  Nahr-el- 
Moudjeb)  frequently  carry  away  the  fish  that  have 
ventured  too  near  the  mouth  of  those  rivers  in  pursuit 
of  TOtne  smaller  fry.  and  and  waft  them  with  their 
prey  into  tho  sea  :  but  no  sooner  do  they  enter  the 
waters  of  tho  lake  than  they  feel  as  if  poisoned,  and, 
unable  to  escape,  die  in  a  short  time  ;  their  bodies 
tJien  float,  and  the  sliglitost  breeze  throws  them  on  the 
shore. 

A  few  days  afterwards,  towards  tlie  shore  of  Bdoum, 
our  Bedouins  picked  up  two  other  fish  of  the  same 
description,  but  nearly  doctimposed.  In  these  three 
specimens  I  thought  I  recognised  a  species  which 
abounds  in   the   lake   of  Gennesarcth,  and  which   has 


t«2 


FIRST  NIGHT   AT   TUB   )»AI1  SEA. 


been  often   served   tm   our   table    during  our   sta}- 
ThAbaricli. 

Whilst  our  scrraDts  and  nioukris  arrange  our  tents,  the 
Thnamerahs  who  accompany  ua,  pronire  fodder  for  the 
horse-s,  by  cutting  ax  mud)  as  tliey  can  of  tlic  tail  rceda 
which  separate  lis  trom  the  shore,  and  vhich  our  bones 
seem  to  relish  exceedingly.  I  follotv  them  and  gatlier  a 
plentiful  collection  of  pretty  plants  that  grow  between  the 
reeds,  especially  near  the  spring.  Among  others  I  find  a 
conrolTulus,  which  twists  round  the  high  stalks  of  tlie 
reeds  and  forms  an  impefUment  through  which  our 
licdottins  open  a  passage  with  their  yiitaghaus. 

Edward  and  I  have  brought  with  us  a  small  double 
tent ;  we  take  poHsession  uf  it  with  Philippe,  and 
ilohaimiicd.  who  sloops  across  the  entrance.  Rothschild 
has  another  tent  to  himself,  surmounted  by  the  tri-color 
flag,  astonished,  no  doubt,  at  Sytug  for  tJie  first  time  on 
the  shores  of  the  Dead  Sua.  Our  other  friends,  Belly, 
Loyscl,  and  Papiguy,  lodge  together  in  a  very  large  t«nt, 
spacious  enough  to  hold  us  all.  Lastly,  two  other  tents, 
the  one  reserved  for  the  dragoman.  Francis,  and  Selim, 
the  other  for  Matteo,  and  the  kitchen  apparatus,  make  up 
our  carap,  which  in  less  than  an  hour  assumes  a  very 
imposing  appearance. 

Behind  the  tents,  and  on  the  ascent  of  the  mountain, 
our  horses  are  picketed,  each  provided  with  a  hirge  bundle 
of  reeds  which  he  eagerly  devours.  Our  Bedouins  pick 
up  some  floated  wood  along  the  shore,  and  fires  are 
lighted  round  the  camp.  Every  fire  Ima  sentinels  wbo 
keep  watch  by  turns,  to  guard  against  any  sudden 
surprise.  Throughout  the  night  llamdan  visits  these 
different    posts,    to    be    aoUsfied    that    all   his    people 


FIRST   KIGtIT  AT  THE   DKAD  S&A. 


163 


are  on  the  alert  and  vigilajiL  From  hour  to  hour  we 
hear  rosounding  to  a  distance  the  prolonged  challenge 
of  "  Ya  Sclieikh  Hamdan  1 "  to  which  tiie  brave  fellow 
replies,  by  "  Thaycb,"  (■■  All's  well,")  and  then  all  would 
relapse  into  silence,  were  it  not  for  the  bells  of  oiir 
luggage  mules,  which  alone  break  the  stillness  of  the 
night. 

The  weather  is  warm,  the  air  extremely  pure,  and 
when  the  moon  adds  her  light  to  that  of  the  stars, 
the  Dead  Sea  and  our  cucampmont  complete  such  a 
pictureaqoe  scene  that  we  all  feel  deeply  moved,  aiid 
gaze  in  ceaseless  admiration  on  a  spectacle  so  new  to 
wondering  Parisians. 

During  the  eveninj;    I    have    airanged    the    plants   I 

thcred  during  the  day ;  I  have  named  the  geological 
cimcus  collected  on  the  road  ;  I  have  completed  my 
journal  and  traced  my  map  in  Indian  ink.  Midnight 
overtakes  me  before  my  task  is  done.  Every  one  is  fast 
asleep  except  tJie  Arabs  of  our  escoil,  who  smoke  their 
tchibouts  by  the  bivouac  fires,  whilst  munimring  the 
guttural  intonations  of  their  strange  language.  In  my 
turn  I  visit  tho  different  |)ost5,  chatting  and  smoking  with 
the  faithful  Bedouins,  who  receive  me  with  all  possible 
respect  and  atfection  ;  I  then  re-enter  our  little  tent, 
where  I  stretch  myself  without  undressing,  on  my  couch, 
with  my  arms  in  order  and  close  at  hand. 

Not  to  rejieat  these  trifling  dutail.'i,  I  shall  merely 
observe  that  during  the  twenty  nights  and  more  which 
we  passed  on  the  shores  of  the  Dead  Sea.  we  nerer 
Ibooght  of  taking  off  our  clothes  to  repose  comfortably. 
Security  was  preferable  to  convenience.  By  this 
arrangement,    if    not    fortified    against    attack,    we    arc 

Ml 


164  FIRST   NIQHT   AT  TUB   DSAD  SEA. 

at  least  prepared  and  ready  to  eDcouuter  any  unexpected 
danger. 

Though  the  night  has  been  a  mild  one,  we  have  been 
literally  smothered  in  our  tent,  which  resembles  an  oven. 
We  shall  therefore  be  obliged  to  give  it  up. 


CHAPTER  V. 


LMths  Dsad  Sek.— Asoant  of  m  maustniii. — Ungmfimut  pwiomnit — 
A  duigcroiiii  iHuu. — A  wbU  without  WAtvr. — Mor«  lulmuiii:  aviilmiMK — 
DawBiit  to  Ayn'Djedjr. — LamriaDl  tvgMBtion, — Ap|i)«  or  the  Deul  8e». 

l%o  tribo  <iri>j»li:iUiui.~EiteiiHivu  mliu Tliu  Kn-jiinii  iif  15crij>turu. — I-v^ruiul 

of  Birkrtel'Khnlil— Valley  of  the  guintrem.— Enmiuping iiroiiud  without 
waiar-— A  mibctittit*.— Tlic  aword  (luica.~-8eb»riiu-  tti*!  luuukri. 

At  (lawn  we  were  roused  frwin  our  slumbers  by  the 
Toioo  of  the  Khatih  repeating  the  moniing  prayer  ;  but  I 
could  scarcely  affirm  that  all  our  Bedouins  joined  ia  bis 
devotiona  The  sun  had  not  yet  appeared  wlien  we  were 
alt  up.  performing  our  usual  ablutioiut  with  much  xest  in 
the  wai'm  spring  of  El-Rhoueyr. 

Tents  such  as  ours  are  not  struck,  nor  twenty  miiles 
loaded,  in  a  moment.  It  is  near  nine  o'clock  before  wo 
are  ready  to  mount  and  resume  our  march.  Thtg 
nioniing  the  sky  is  remarkably  pure,  the  sun  has  risen 
radiantly,  and  the  Dead  8ea  presents  altogether  a  splendid 
view.  The  luountains  of  Canaan  are  clearly  defined 
behind  us  j  those  of  Moab  are  still  in  the  shade,  and 
reflect  their  outline  distinctly  in  the  waters  of  the  lake; 
We  look  with  impatient  curiosity  towards  tlic  southoni 
extremity  of  the  sea,  but  a  slight  haze  obscures  our  view  ; 
it  is  Htill  so  far  olf  that  we  can  only  mark  the  indistinct 
profiles  of  tiie  high  lauds  by  which  it  is  boimdcd. 

yesterday  oh  uur  arrival  at  the  shore,  we  marked  a 


166  FIRING    AT    A    UABK. 

large  black  mass  od  tho  water,  lA'hich  seemed  to  be 
advancing  towards  us,  but  which  we  were  unable  to 
identify.  The  Arabs  say  that  it  was  most  probably  the 
trunk  of  a  tree  brought  down  by  the  Jordan.  It  may  be 
80,  but  to-day  the  mass  has  disappeared,  and  the  sur&ce 
of  the  sea,  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  is  smooth  and 
imbroken  as  a  mirror.  A  narrow  belt,  more  clear  and 
bright  than  the  remainder,  extends  throughout  its  whole 
length,  at  not  more  than  a  thousand  yards  from  the  beach 
where  we  have  halted.  How  are  we  to  account  for  this 
smooth  unbroken  stripe  ?  I  am  utterly  at  a  loss  for  an 
explanation. 

Whilst  breakfest  is  preparii^,  to  show  the  Bedouins 
that  our  guns  are  not  likely  to  prove  useless  in  our  hands, 
we  send  a  few  bullets  against  the  cliff.  A  small  natural 
excavation  serves  for  a  target,  and,  though  the  distance  is 
about  a  hundred  yards,  our  friends  contrive  to  bit  their 
mark.  Some  rooks,  startled  at  the  unusual  sound,  come 
fluttering  over  the  hill  side.  Rothschild  brings  down  one 
of  them-.— a  feat  which  completes  tlie  astonishment  of  our 
Arabs,  and  their  respect  for  weapons,  evidently  diabohcaL 
Our  eight-barrelled  pistols  excite  their  most  unbounded 
wonder.  When  we  have  fired  the  eighth  shot,  we  cease 
carelessly,  remarking  that  it  is  quite  useless  to  throw 
away  more  powder  and  ball ;  and  as  the  brave  fellows 
quickly  observe  that  tlie  lower  barrel  always  fires  last^ 
and  that  there  are  eight  exactly  like  each  other,  they  are 
thoroughly  convinced  that  such  a  pistol  can  fire  as  long 
as  it  pleases,  and  that  a  Cheytan  (a  devil)  alone  can  have 
invented  and  constructed  it. 

At  a  quarter  before  nine  we  mount  our  horses  and 
leave  the  Ayn-el-Rhoueyr.      The  beach  narrows  almost 


aiOAKTIC  RBS08  AND  THOKNS. 


187 


inimediately,  and  the  foot  of  the  nloiintains,  which  arc 
licrc  six  liuudroJ  ^-arita  iu  hutgUt,  comes  iu  close  coutact 
with  the  thick  forest  of  reeds  we  must  penetrate  to  gain 
the  open  groutii:!.  Oar  progress  is  much  im]>eded  by  this 
singukr  Tcg«tatiou  ;  the  loads  of  our  baggage  animals 
are  caught  at  every  step,  aud  in  constant  danger  of  being 
dragged  oif.  Our  uufortunato  mules  resemble  corpulent 
geutlcraen  eudearouring  to  squeeze  through  narrow 
pas!ragc8. 

The  beach  is  here  scarcely  twenty  yards  wide,  and  our 
entire  camran  is  so  completely  entangled  in  the  reeds  and 
prickly  thorns,  that  it  takes  us  ten  good  minutes  to  clear 
this  defile.  A  Uttle  further  on,  the  sliore  widens  again 
considerably,  and  we  find  ourselves  in  front  of  the  beds  of 
two  cascades,  two  hundred  yards  apart  from  each  other. 
The  gravel  swept  down  by  these  torrents,  when  swollen, 
forms  the  delta  upon  which  we  lu-c  moving.  By  thirteen 
minutes  past  nine  we  reach  a  spot  where  the  reeds  be«omo 
taller,  intei-mixed  with  gum-trees.  A  spring  of  fresh 
water  must  necessarily  exist  here  ;  we  therefore  find  our- 
aelvcs  at  the  Ayii-et-Tliera,  the  position  of  which  wo 
merely  mark  as  we  pass  on. 

Up  to  this  moment  we  thought  we  were  marching 
directly  towards  Ayn-Djedy.  and  thai  a  few  liours  would 
take  us  to  that  im[>ortnnt  spot.  But  we  had  reckoned 
without  our  Bedouins,  who  inform  us  abruptly  that  the 
track  by  the  shore  is  no  longer  practicable,  and  that  wo 
miist  climb  the  mountain  before  wc  reach  Ayn-I)jedy. 

This  arrangement  discontents  iis  not  a  little  ;  we  have 
endangered  our  necks  to  reach  the  lorcl  ground  by  de- 
RCondiiig  precipices  where  a  single  false  step  woidd  cost  a 
broken  log  or  arm  at  least,  and  now  we  are  condemned  to 


IM 


jjcm  or  A  MotrsTAUt. 


Rpeai  otir  tmwdcaine  gjinnastics  for  two  entire  dityn, 
Sdmkh  Haudan  wp  we  shAll  occupy  tliat  time  at  least 
m  winding  tluwigh  the  desert  of  CanAan  to  rench  a  point. 
not  foor  leagura  distant,  iu  a  direct  line.  Opposition  is 
uaeleES ;  our  trusty  guide  assures  us  tlterc  is  no  otlidi-  pas- 
Bige,  as  the  mountain  hangs  pcrpendiculaHj  orcr  the  setL 
Pradcncc  wliispcrs  that  it  is  better  to  yield  than  venture 
on  on  ol«ttuate  experiment ;  and  thus  nith  deep  rductaucc 
ve  turn  our  faces  from  tlie  shore  so  anxiously  deeii'ed  aud 
rcnched  vtitli  so  much  difficulty. 

At  twenty  minutes  \}asl  nine  we  are  still  between  the 
mountains  and  the  lake,  thirty  yards  from  the  foot  of  the 
cliffs,  and  five  hundred  from  the  shore,  to  our  left,  con- 
cealed as  before  by  the  border  of  tall  reeds.  By  half-past 
uiiio  we  cross  the  bed  of  a  torrent  forming  another  double 
aiacado  which  has  deeply  in<lente(I  the  side  of  the  hill. 
Here  again  the  gravel  washed  down  from  the  heights  is 
heaped  up  to  tlie  extent  of  iicnv\y  two  hundred  and  fifty 
yardsL  Once  beyond  this  torrent  we  find  ourselves 
eucircled  by  the  mountain, 

The  road  now  becomea  steep  and  stony.  The  term 
road  is  quite  imaginary,  for  there  is  not  really  the  vestige 
of  a  beaten  track  in  thiii  strange  country.  We  have 
aht-ady  climbed  two  cliffs,  one  above  the  other,  and  each 
a  bundred  yards  in  area  at  the  top,  before  we  gain  the  dry 
bed  of  the  torrent ;  thc«  by  a  ziguig  path  we  ascend  a  very 
sU*p  ravine,  which  narrows  continually  to  a  breadth  of 
live  or  si-x  yards,  enclosed  l)etween  two  precipices.  This 
IB  culled  the  Nukb-et-Thcrabch  ;  and  terminates  in  a  small 
ivcky  table-land,  two  hundred  and  fifty  yards  above  the 
\iltsd  v£  the  Dead  Sea.  It  is  now  fifty-three  minutes  past 
we  have  a  fatigiung  day  before  us,  and  as  Hamdau 


UAOIflPICEirr   PADURAUA. 


leg 


Las  gone  on  with  his  horsemen  in  qnest  of  a  practicable 
rowl  for  our  bcasta  of  burden,  wc  profit  by  noceswty.  and 
halt  for  breakfast. 

Our  etitoniologists  avail  ihcmselvcB  eagerly  of  thLs  delay. 
While  lliey  arc  employed  in  seeking  for  rare  insects,  I  gaze 
with  rapture  on  the  splendid  panorama,  strctchiug  out 
before  me.  But  let  my  readers  be  under  no  apprehension  : 
I  shall  not  detain  them  by  a  rcputitiun  of  my  delight. 
We  tire  even  our  dearest  friends  by  constantly  reminding 
them  of  our  regard-  How  much  moro  surely  then  do  we 
weary  tJiosc  who  are  but  little  interested  in  our  feelings, 
by  dwelling  on  emotions  xvitli  which  they  cannot  personaJly 
symfmtliise.     This  said,  I  resume  my  journal. 

By  two  minutes  past  eleven  we  leave  the  Nakb-et* 
Therabch  to  join  Hamdan,  who  haa  placed  himself  as  a 
signal  post  ou  a  rocky  summit,  a  few  hundred  yards  above 
■  the  level  of  our  present  position,  in  a  westerly  direction. 
We  can  just  distinguish  a  pinnacle  of  black  and  gniy  :  it  is 
the  Scheikb  on  his  beautiful  mare,  both  motionless,  and 
were  it  not  for  our  lynx-eyed  Bedouins,  wc  should  scarcely 
recognise  a  friendly  cavalier  in  a  small  mass  risible  with 
difficulty. 

Passing  between  two  limestone  hills,  we  arrive  at 
twenty-five  toinutcs  past  eleven  on  a  rugged  plain.  Five 
minutes  kter  we  <Ii!icover  to  our  right,  at  the  distance  of 
six  huudrcd  yards,  a  high  mountain  with  pyramidal  spurs, 
not  unlike  the  indented  declivities  of  the  Seine,  between 
Pout-de-rArclic  and  llouon.  But  here,  instead  of  the  rich 
vordure  of  the  liills  of  Normandy,  we  find  only  the  uniform 
gray  tint  of  the  limestone  which  constitutes  the  soil  of  this 
desert  region. 

About  a  tlioitsand  yards  to  our  leH  a  deep  and  abrupt 


ITO 


HAGSIFICEXT   PASORAIIA. 


chafim  runs  in  a  [wraltcl  line  nitb  our  road  :  this  is  called 
tJio  Ouad-cl-Merabb«h.  After  having  rrooircd  a  water- 
course ruDiiiug  from  noi'th  to  south,  it  converges  rapioly 
towards  its  until  within  a  hundred  yards.  We  then  turn 
west,  and  again  north-west,  and  fiud  oureclTcs  at  fifty-five 
minutes  past  eleven  opposite  the  southern  extremity  of  Oie 
mountain  we  have  just  mentioned.  We  pass  a  second 
water-course,  tending  also  towards  thcOuad-ol-Mcrabbcb; 
and  crossing  a  plain,  arrive  at  four  minutea  past  twelve  cm 
the  brink  of  ttic  chasm,  just  where  it  begins  to  open.  Wo 
eMape  from  it  witb  eome  effort  and  loss  of  time  in  prevent- 
ing our  mules  lh>m  going  down  head  foremost ;  no  easy 
undertaking,  as  these  intelligent  animals  gcucmlly  select 
the  most  dangerous  and  impracticable  paths.  Having 
surmounted  this  difficulty,  we  move  on  witliout  furtlier 
obstacles,  wcst-uorth-wcat,  over  an  tucven  plain.  At 
twenty-three  minutes  past  twelve  we  observe  two  heaps 
of  stones  piled  artificiiilly  :  they  mark  two  Arab  tombs, 
called  TaAla-ed-Daouary.  as  our  Bedouins  inform  us. 

At  twenty-nine  minutes  past  twelve  we  have  reached 
tlie  crest  of  the  plain,  and  descend  by  the  winding  bed  of 
a  watcr-cotirse  to  the  brink  of  an  abnipt  cliasm,  numing 
due  east  and  about  fifty  yartkj  wide,  <alIod  the  Ouad-od- 
Dorsjeh  ;  the  sides  of  this  chasm  are  perpendicular,  and 
yet  we  must  endeavour  to  cross  them.  The  feat  appears 
impossible.  Our  Arabs  tell  me  by  way  of  encouragement 
that  the  army  of  Ibrahim  Pacha  passed  this  defile  with  a 
moderate  loss.  The  place  is  appropriately  named  "  Break- 
neck Valley  ;"  truly  these  Arabs  are  a  humorous  race^ 
You  go  down  fast  enough — there's  no  feai-  of  that — only 
remember  the  name  of  the  place,  and  take  care  not  to  go 
too  fast.    Prudent  people  try  it  on  foot,  ami  as  I  have  no 


A    DANQKBOUS   PASft. 


171 


wish  to  have  the  death  of  my  jwor  horse  on  my  conscience. 
I  tliamount  and  consign  hiiu  to  my  friend  Ahouad  ;  I  shall 
have  enough  to  do  to  take  care  of  myself.  As  tlie  scene 
promises  to  be  interesting,  I  ait  on  the  hrinit,  and  allow 
tho  most  impatient  to  go  Hrnt.  Tiedouins  are  like  innnke^'S 
in  scrambling  through  paths.  Kot  one  of  our  mules  is 
killed,  or  precipitated  down  the  chasm  ;  all  reach  the 
bottom  in  safety.  But  the  harder  task  is  still  before 
them — they  have  to  surmount  tJie  apposite  hank,  which  is 
likely  to  take  more  time  and  greater  labom*. 

Our  infantry  lead  the  way,  and  move  on  in  perfect  com- 
posure (Tver  narrow  ledges  overhanging  tho  abyss  from  top 
to  bottom.  The  path  is  along  the  b<tro  and  slippery  rock  ; 
oiules  and  horses  become  obstinate  and  rebel  in  terror; 
the  poor  animals  hiive  no  ta»tc  for  the  hazardous  experi- 
ment. But  as  they  can  neither  turn  nor  retreat,  between 
exhortations  and  blows  they  are  forced  reluctantly  to 
advance.  One  spot  is  pre-eminently  dangerous  :  the  ledge 
overhanging  the  precipice  is  here  not  more  than  a  foot 
and  a  half  in  width,  circumscribed  by  a  perpendicular  ruck 
which  (urns  sliort  round  within  a  space  of  two  feut  more, 
The  moukris  invoke  the  prophet,  excbiim,  Hhed  tears,  and 
would  no  doubt  pluck  out  their  hair  hy  the  roots — if  they 
had  any  under  their  turbans.  On  of  them  forgets  hinuielf 
80  far  as  to  abuse  Hnmdan,  who  prepares  very  (juietly  to 
blow  his  brains  out,  hut  checks  his  momentary  auger,  and 
does  nothing. 

The  Bedouins  then  set  to  work  ;  every  mule  is  divested 
of  his  load,  drafted  by  the  bridle,  pushed  forward  with 
the  but-end  of  a  musket,  or  beaten  ^vith  the  flat  of  a 
yataghan  until  the  point  of  safety  is  reached.  Our  horses 
are  discipline<l  afU>r  the  same  fashion.      The  luggage  is 


t72 


A   WELL  WITUOIT   WAT8I. 


tiransportccl  on  the  shoulders  of  the  men.  and  the  whole 
party  are  fciirly  through  the  scrape.  Well  f  wo  must 
thank  Providence,  whicli  lias  co»Gtantly  protected  us,  and 
not  provoke  disaster  by  repeating  the  cxporiment.  It  is 
thirty-eight  minutes  past  one  when  we  are  ready  to  move 
on  again.  An  hour  has  carried  us  over  fifty  yards,  which 
threatened  to  terminate  our  travels  for  over. 

Again  we  find  ourselves  on  another  plain  with  small 
hillocks  and  many  chasms,  where  we  lose  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  in  sodidously  watcJiing  our  lu^age.  Wo  now  ttini 
southward,  and  at  nineteen  minutes  past  two  arc  enclosed 
between  two  mountain-ranges,  divided  from  each  btlicr  by 
a  plain  of  6flcen  hundred  yards  in  length.  Beyond  this 
plain  there  is  a  curtain  of  limestone  hills,  where  we  hope 
to  find  a  cave,  a  well  supplied  with  water,  and  an  eligible 
cncampiug-ground.  We  double  our  speed,  and  by  twenty* 
MX  minutes  pa.st  two  arrive  in  front  of  the  entrance  of  the 
cave  and  the  well,  which  is  called  the  Bir-el-Mauqouchieb. 
But  the  well  contains  no  water — nothing  but  a  sediment 
of  wliitc  cky,  cracked  aud  parched  by  the  beat.  Hanidan 
himself  looks  disconcerted  at  this  untoward  discovery,  by 
which  we  arc  much  more  aatonished  Uian  are  our  escort* 
During  ten  anxious  minutes  wo  hold  a  council.  What  aro 
we  to  do  T  Where  are  we  to  go  ?  Where  shall  we  find 
water  to  slake  our  thirst  ?  A  puzzling  question  iu  the 
desert !  One  thing  is  clear :  we  must  shift  our  cjuarters 
and  move  on.  We  may  as  well  be  thirsty  somewhere  else, 
arul  spare  the  mortification  of  encamping  by  a  well,  re- 
nowned in  name — but  without  water. 

Wo  resume  our  march  and  pass  between  the  hillocks, 
on  the  brow  of  which  is  hollowed  out  the  unlucky  Bir-cl- 
Mauqouchieh,  and  enter  another  pkln,  rugged  as  the  one 


OUAD-UASASA. 


173 


we  have  jiist  quitte<l.  Tlie  Arabs  cal^  tliia  district  Belad- 
UASasa.  Our  path  iH  now  south-west.  At  fort^-fivo 
mimitcs  past  two  we  cross  witliout  tlifticulty  tlie  Oiiad- 
flasa-sa  ;  and  ten  minutes  later,  being  fairly  worn  out, 
determined  to  halt  some  two  hundred  yards  in  adrauce, 
at  the  bottom  of  a  defile  between  calcareous  hilLs. 

Good  news!  Our  Bedouins,  who  ha\'e  no  desire  to  die 
of  thirst  any  more  than  ourselves,  in  searching  the  bed  of 
the  Ouad-Hasasa,  have  discovered  some  pools  of  tainted 
water.  On  hejiring  their  joyons exclamation,  "Pikmaiehl" 
— "  Water,  water  I" — we  resume  our  self-posscsMion.  Poai- 
tively,  the  Belad-Hasasa  is  a  charming  country  1  We 
hare  some  fotd  water  to  drink.  Wliat  would  we  ask  for 
more? 

Whilst  they  ai-e  pitching  the  camp,  Hamdan,  who  has 
seen  some  antelopes  and  heard  some  hcath-cocbi,  entices 
us  to  search  for  game  along  the  Ouad-Hasasa.  Belly  and 
Loysel  look  out  on  their  own  ocfwunt ;  tbey  bring  back 
some  partridges  :  we  cjurnot  get  a  shot,  and  briug  back 
nothing  but  ourselves. 

To-morrow  we  expect  to  bo  at  Ayn-Djody,  and  there  at 
least  we  shall  find,  so  we  are  told,  an  incomparable  spring. 
The  remainder  of  the  evening  passes  most  agreeably  ;  we 
dino,  mnoko,  ctiat,  write  our  notes,  and  trace  the  map  of 
our  day's  journey  :  aJl  have  reason  to  be  satLsfied.  Edward 
and  I  have  given  up  our  small  tent,  and  joined  company 
with  our  friends  in  their  large  one.  Here,  at  least,  we 
bare  room  to  breathe.  The  usual  fires  made  up  of  dry 
brandies  are  lighted  round  our  camp,  and  after  paying  a 
visit  to  Hamdan  and  his  people,  and  partaking  of  their 
coflee,  we  retire  to  rest  The  wcatlier  is  less  warm  than 
lit  the  Ayn-cl-Rhoueyr,  by  twelve  d<^rces  at  least ;  but 


174 


MiJBR   VOLOAKIC  RTlOUIOBe. 


the  niglit  \a  etiU  geiiial  aud  Gnc,  aiul  we  itleep  as  timindly 
as  we  could  wish.  Kflwanl  and  Philippe  arrauge  our 
newly -actjuired  shells  and  tiisects,  nliicb  prouiute  an 
abundant  hanrest, 

Wbeocc  originate  ih&ie  name!!  of  IteUd-ITasa«a  aod 
Ouad-Hasasa  1  Let  us  coosult  tlic  Bible.  We  read  in 
Genesis  (xiv.  7),  "  And  tbey  returned  and  caiue  to  En- 
mlsbpat,  vbich  is  Kadcsti.  aud  smote  all  tbe  country  of 
the  Amatckitcs,  and  also  the  Amorites  tliat  dwelt  in 
Ua^jzou-taniar." 

Wo  read  also  id  2  Chronicles  (xx.  1,  2) :  1.  "It  carae 
to  pass  after  ihiii  also,  tliat  the  booh  of  Itloab,  and  the 
children  of  Ammon,  aod  with  ihom  other  beside  the 
Ammonites,  came  against  .lehosliapbat  to  battle,"  2.  "Then 
there  came  some  that  totd  Jehosliaphat,  saying.  There 
comotb  a  g^cat  multitude  against  tboc,  from  beyond  the 
soa  on  this  side  Syria  ;  and,  behold,  they  be  in  Ilazazon- 
tamar,  wliich  is  Eu-gedi" 

Thus,  Uic  origiual  name  of  Eii-gcdi  was  Hasiazon-tamar. 
Our  Belad-IIasasa  is  situated  too  near  Ayn-Djedy,  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Ouad-lia-saM,  to  allow  of  any  doubt  as  to 
the  intimate  eouncuiiou  between  the  biblical  name  aud  the 
name  still  given  to  that  district  at  the  present  day.  From 
this  wc  may  judge  how  primitive  names  are  transmitted 
from  generaliou  to  gcacration  in  the  Holy  Land. 

For  the  last  two  days  a  singular  coincidence  has 
attracted  our  attention,  but  it  is  only  now  we  have  been 
able  to  account  for  it.  From  a  particular  point,  Uie  grav 
hillockfl  between  which  we  have  passed,  as  well  as  all  tho 
small  pkins,  were  marked  with  long,  reddish,  oblong 
stains,  always  taking  the  8<ime  inclinaliuii,  and  consisting 
of  calcined  fi-agmeuts  of  flint.     When  facing  the  west,  the 


MOBB   70LCAH1C   BVIOEKCK. 


175 


eastern  parte  of  the  hillocks  were  streaked  with  them  ; 
and  wherever  a  crest  lia<l  intervened,  they  appeared  no 
more  on  the  westem  aide.  All  tliese  streaks  were 
evidently  convergiug  towards  a  common  centre ;  and 
the  farther  they  receded  from  that  centre,  the  lai-gcr 
were  the  fragments  ;  and,  coatrariwiso,  the  nearer  our 
route  appruaehcd  llie  centre,  the  fragments  dimiuishcd 
in  proportiou. 

i'esterday,  while  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Mar-Saba, 
we  scarcely  noticed  this  curious  geological  fact ;  to-day, 
the  red  veins  became  so  frequent  that  they  forced  thera- 
selres  upou  our  attention* 

With  a  Uttle  reflection  this  apparent  phenomenon  is 
easily  explained,  if  we  cousidcr  the  regular  disposition 
and  nature  of  the  veins.  Any  one  who  has  witnessed 
the  operation  of  springing  a  mine,  especially  by  ajbuffode, 
and  noticed  the  arrangement  of  the  displaced  stones  after 
the  explosion,  will  he  immediately  etnick  by  the  coin- 
cidence of  the  same  effect  on  the  rodcs  we  are  now  con- 
sidering. The  larger  fragments,  detached  from  a  superior 
mass  and  operated  upon  by  a  greater  force,  are  projected 
io  the  greater  distance  ;  the  smaller  ones  fall  nearer  the 
oCDtre.  The  converging  tendency  of  each  axis  of  these 
dtajointed  fragments,  begins  necessarily  at  the  point  from 
whence  they  have  been  propelled.  In  the  present  case, 
the  nature  of  the  dislocations,  characterised  by  the 
action  of  intense  fire,  can  allow  but  the  one  hypothesis, 
that  they  have  been  ejected  irom  a  crater.  Hut  where 
was  this  crater  situated  ?  Of  course,  at  the  point  where 
every  convei;ging  axis  terminated  in  a  common  centre. 

From  our  first  aiTival  on  the  heights  overlooking  the 
Dead  8ea,  we  agreed  a  priori  that  craters  had  existed 


i: 


'  "t    iererniineil 

.  ■..  "'■•-•:  :o  .liscover 

■  ..  '-  ■••{  ".".::,  that  wr 

■  -    :  iM  j.iict  ph:-~ 

.:::-.:.    U'i  proceei 

_  ■.      :r-:^-.''ir    -.iio   countrv. 

;- ■       ■..      L'.iS'    LsrtfrseJ  tliem. 

■    —I         .    '■■;';c:  pr-Tiod.  since 

._■      ■■■  -.^•;-    t-jrmatioii^    of 

■    ^T  ■>       --I'i  as    the    ^a:::- 

-.-•vi-;rt\   the   C'::,- 

■■■     ^  ■    v    ~'.:-:rs  are  ncarlv 


JiiiHiry  9th. 

.r-    :z-.:>   to  start 

--:  i-nutes  earlier 

-:,^  :^s.  even  five 

.    ~Tine  where 

-  .:  -       17  risht  tlic 

■^■■'---^  :. "wards  the 

-  -   ■;  ■_:::-ea5t.  then 

•j^rareous    and 

-  -■  >  Tiast  nine,  a 
.r-    -TiUet,  both 


,t^ 


J,.  **■  '  ^■-■''    ■  ■  ^-  ='!'- :::e  ground 

-**■  ^     .:-^*    :-■-.     •ii';i..-i..i.,j;j  -.har  it  is 

*■*■         *  •—    '■'^    -'JiUiLr'-    .■■.i:"._j.i:rs  u- wear  the 


OONTWtUEU   VOLCANIC   KVIDBNCES. 


177 


same  appearance  :  plains,  with  calcareous  emincuoes, 
right  aud  left.  Our  course  has  been  first  south-weat, 
then  south-south-east.  At  thirty-eight  minutes  past  nine 
we  reach  another  deep  ravine,  which  we  enter  and  follow 
[for  some  ttmc,  though  diiSc-ult  of  pa.ssage. 

At  two  minutes  past  tcu  we  enter  on  aa  elevated 

thun,  and  alter  our  direction  to  south-west.     Here  the 

^hillocks  rapidly  inort'aso,  aud  iit  the  distance  of  between 

three  and  four  miles  to  our  right,  lies  a  range  of  hills 

Finclining  from  north-east  to  south-west.     To  our  left,  only 

five  hundred  yards  off,  stands  a  lofty  mountain,  called 

lie  Djebcl-ech-Chcqif.     Wc  continue  our  course  to  the 

[>uth-west  nnlil  nineteen  minutes  past  ten,  when,  hanng 

sed  a  table-land  entirely  composed  of  flint,  we  arrive 

taboTe    tlie  Ouad-ech-Cheqif,   a  deep   valley,   lying  one 

hundrud  and  fifty  yards  beiieatli  us.     But  this  time  the 

descent  is  easy.     After  tlio  Ouad-cd-Dcrajeh,  all  roads 

appear  excellent 

At  thirty-three  minutes  past  ten  wc  reach  the  bottom 
of  the  Onad-ech-Cheqif.  which  forms  a  tolerably  extensive 
plain,  across  which  we  shape  our  course  in  a  southerly 
direction.  At  forty-nine  minutes  past  ten  we  pat»  a 
watorcourse,  then  another  uneven  plain,  towards  the 
centre  of  which  we  find  an  Arab  burying-ground.  By 
eleven  we  reach  a  crest,  from  which  we  discover,  to  our 
•light,  a  rugged  plain,  fift^-'cn  hundred  yards  wide  ;  aud 
om-  left,  at  the  distance  of  a  hundred  yards,  a  deep 
watercourse  running  from  north-east  to  south.  This  is 
led  the  Ouad-el-Rhor.  We  march  south-west  over 
ic  plain,  and  observe  a  range  of  tiigh  mountains  about 
league  to  the  right.  By  fiftoeu  miuutcs  past  ciovoii  we 
iro  again  suddenly  to  the  easty  and  find  the  Ouad-cl- 


vol.  L 


17S 


THE   DBSCBllT  TO   ATS-DJBDT. 


Rhor  two  handred  and  fifty  jrards  distant  to  our  loft. 
Here  the  volcanic  vestiges  entirely  disappear.  We  are 
therefore  in  all  probability  quite  dofie  to  the  crater  from 
whence  tliey  have  been  ejected. 

At  twenty-three  minutes  past  eleven  we  reach  another 
buryiug-ground,  composed  of  detached  heaps  of  stones, 
e«cb  covering  a  separate  body.  The  presence  of  a  ceme- 
tery iD  such  a  doKert  can  only  bave  arisen  from  a  battle 
between  two  hostile  tribes.  Eight  minutes  later,  wo  reacli 
a  level  eminence,  five  hundred  yards  in  width,  overlooking 
on  the  west,  the  shores  of  the  Dead  Sea.  From  tbis  height 
wo  descend  into  a  kind  of  circus,  two  hundred  yards  in 
diameter,  joined  by  a  small  isthmus  (only  ten  yards 
broad)  to  a  platform  whicb  projects  Ukc  a  spur  of  the 
mountain.     At  this  last  place  we  halt  for  breakfast 

Before  us,  and  about  six  hundred  yards  below  the  spot 
on  whicb  wo  stand,  is  the  brook  of  Ayn-Djody,  near  which 
we  purpose  to  encamp  this  evening.  Two  hundred  yards 
lower  still,  hes  the  Dead  Sea,  which  we  find  again,  to  our 
infinite  joy,  as  beautifiil  as  ever.  The  only  que-stion  is 
how  to  reach  it  by  tbo  Nakb-Ayu-Djedy  (the  pit  of  Ayn- 
Djedy),  a  perilous  descent  we  are  doomed  to  encounter, 
and  wliich  even  from  a  distance  we  contemplate  with 
terror. 

During  breakfast  rain  comes  on,  but  fortunately  passes 
over.  Our  beasts  of  burthen  and  our  moukris  have  uot 
halted ;  they  have  gouo  on  with  the  main  body  of  our 
little  army  of  Bedouins ;  but  Hamdan,  Meidaay,  ibe 
Khatib,  and  Ahouad  remain  with  us.  We  must,  however, 
make  up  our  minds  to  take  the  leap, — the  expression  is 
not  too  strong  ;  and,  being  refreshed  with  food  and  rest, 
we  venture  boldly  at  tho  Nakb. 


BKAnriFta  vmctation. 


Hamdun  proposes  to  me  to  tako  a  short  cut,  aail  I 
dUow  him.  Every  minuto  we  aro  obliged  to  sit,  and 
"glide  down  from  one  rocky  pinnacle  to  another  shooting 
up  aomo  yards  lower.  This  oporatitni  lasts  for  nearly 
two  hours.  Here  and  there  we  encounter  skeletons  of 
comeU  and  mules,  remains  of  the  victims  of  the  Nakb* 
Ayn-Djedy.  A  single  false  step  has  broken  their  limbs, 
nad  necessity  h&s  Icfi  them  thoro  a  prey  to  vulture*, 
ravens,  jackals,  and  panthei-s.  The  sight  is  anytlung  but 
cheering ;  but  the  lesson  is  profitable,  and  warns  us  to  be 
doubly  careful,  lest  we  should  fail  into  the  same  predica- 
lent. 

Hamdan  and  I  soon  pass  the  caravan,  and  arrive  first 
jn  tho  level  of  Ayn-Djedy.  It  was  well  the  race  was 
jver,  for  I  was  nearly  exhausted  with  anxiety  and  per- 
[tiration.  Once  on  level  ground,  or  nearly  so,  I  feel 
ejoiocd  and  confident  in  being  still  possessed  of  all  my 
Sinbs,  and  able  to  stand  upright  as  I  move  from  place  to 
place.  A  few  minute-s  more,  and  I  find  myself  surrounded 
by  a  grovo  of  trees,  beautiful  and  inviting  as  fancy  caii 
lagiiie. 

I  gaze  for  the  first  time  on  an  unknown  vegetation. 
Ima-trecs,  nsclepias  (swallow- wort),  solnnums  (night- 
iade),  marsh-mallows,  and  reeds  constitute  a  mjignificent 
ui  which  a  multitude  of  small  birds  are  warbUug 
liarmoniously.  The  spring  is  just  close  by  ;  the  water  is 
rather  warm,  but  limpid,  and  delicious  to  tlie  taste.  It 
separates  into  several  brooks,  which  mcajidcr  and  lose 
themselves  under  thick  brakes,  rendered  impenetrable  by 
ie  thorns. 

You  see  on  all  sides  inviting  fruits,  which  you  cannot 
ftther  without  pricking  your  tingeni.     This  is  the  orange 


180 


THK   APPLES  OF  THE  ttKAD  SEA. 


of  Sodom  (the  Bortoukan-Sdouin  of  the  Bedouins),  or 
fruit  of  the  Afclepias  pmcera.  It  resembles  a  middle- 
sized  citron.  When  not  ripe,  the  green  pulp,  which  is 
nothing  but  a  Uiin  husk  intended  to  protect  the  seed. 
is  easily  fretted  by  the  mere  touch  of  the  hand  when 
gathered  careletmly,  and  then  it  emitA  drops  of  a  lliick 
milky  juice.  When  ripe,  it  opens  easily  under  the- 
slightost  praseure,  aiid  tlien  a  quantity  of  small  flat  black 
seeds  appear,  surmounted  by  a  silky  coating  of  the  purest 
white.  The  composition  of  this  fruit  haa  no  doubt  pro- 
duced the  fable  of  the  apples  of  Sodom,  mentioned  by 
Josephiis,  which,  with  the  most  attractive  exterior,  dis- 
solved, when  handled,  into  dust  and  aHlics. 

Another  fi*uit  may  likewise  claim  the  honour  of  being 
lite  apple  of  the  Dead  Sea,  so  oflen  commemorated  by 
writers  who  have  never  visited  the  country.  This  is  the 
produce  of  a  large  thorny  nightshade,  with  pink  flowers, 
tlic  Solatium  Mdongata.  The  fruit  is  quite  rount!,  and, 
as  it  ripens,  changes  in  colour  from  yellowish  greeo  to 
golden  yellow.  Tlie  size  is  that  of  a  small  red  apple.  It 
is  more  agreeable  to  look  at  than  to  gather.  When  quite 
npe,  a  slight  presstire  of  the  fingers  squeezes  out  thou- 
sands of  small  black  grains,  very  like  poppy-seeds ;  and 
these  seeds  the  imagination  of  poets  has  also  oonvcrtod 
into  ashes. 

Whilst  wailing  for  the  arrival  of  the  caravan,  I  visit 
the  spring,  the  niins  of  an  Arab  mill  formerly  turned  by 
its  waters,  and  two  heaps  of  lai^e  stones,  ten  yarrls  apart 
from  cacb  other,  which  indicate  the  site  of  two  important 
structures  resembling  towers.  I  attempt  to  botaniso, 
grumbUng  every  minute  at  the  thorns  which  pierce  my 
lingers,  and  rejoin  Hamdan,  loaded  with  treasiutis,  which 


BNCAMPHENT   AT   ATS-DJBDT. 


181 


I  throw  down  twenty  times,  with  the  ill-humour  of  a 
pointer  oompellcd  to  carry  a  hedgehog. 

In  another  half-hour  we  are  all  collected  once  more. 
Our  friends  have  jJaased  the  Nakb-Ayii-Djedy  witliout 
casualty  ;  our  horses  and  mules  have  not  remained  behind 
to  aagmcnt  the  dismal  show  of  skeletons ;  our  tents  are 
soon  pitched,  and  the  weather  is  delicious.  All  combines 
to  elevate  our  spirits.  Ever}-  one  admires,  while  smoking, 
the  delightftil  spot  we  have  reached.  At  this  moment 
Hamdaii  wluspcrs  to  roe  that  the  Scheikh  Abou-Daouk,  to 
■whom  he  had  notified  our  arrival,  will  soon  present  him- 

I  mIT ;  that  his  coming  is  most  opportune,  for  if  ho  should 
delay,  ve  must  stop  here  and  wait  for  his  permission 
before  we  proceed  beyond  Ayn-Djedy.  llamdan  says  no 
more ;  but  I  now  perfectly  understand  why  the  road 
along  the  beacli  was  impracticable  the  day  before  yester- 
day, when  we  left  Ayn-cl-Khoueyr — of  course,  ho  wanted 

I  to  seciu-e  a  job  for  a  frieud.     A  good  lie  is  readily  forged 

fin  Arabia ;  and  in  this  traffic,  Kuropeans,  with  all  their 
aptitude,  are  poor  practitionerH  ia  comparisou. 

Whilst  waiting  for  the  Sclicikli  of  the  Djaludins,  our 

I  naturalists  ravage  the  neighbourhood  of  the  camp,  and 

I J  employ  myself  in  arranging  my  own  specimens.  I  begin 
t>y  the  usual  method  of  hiving  them  between  sheets  of 

[paper ;  but  they  perforate  both  paper  and  adjoining 
plants,  and  I  mu»t  invent  some  other  means  to  preserve 
Diy  Requisitions!.      A   deal-board  and  a   piece   of    rock 

laccomplLsb  the  business.  1  crush  au<l  flatten  iu  this  way 
the  rebellious  thorns ;  and  succeed  at  last  in  collecting 
in  a   single    packet  all    the  prickly    vegetables   I   have 

^gatliered. 

Whihtt  I  am  thus  engaged  at  our  tent-door,  tlic  Hcheikh 


\s& 


THE   SHRIKII    ABOV-DAOFK, 


Hamdan  approaches  to  tell  mc  that  our  expected  gucets 
have  arrived,  and  wait  an  interview.  They  are  as  rough 
and  thorny  ^  tl>e  produce  of  their  land,  and  I  arai  myself 
with  patience  beforchaud,  for  on  the  residt  of  this  confer- 
ence depends  the  issue  of  our  journey. 

I  prepare  to  open  our  case  in  Arsb  fashion  to  the 
nohie  chieftains  who  honour  lis  with  their  visit.  I  collect 
our  pipes  and  Jiudjana  (these  an;  the  small  coflec-cups 
which  iu  Arabia  arc  the  cmblcius  of  civility)  ;  JIatteo 
hastens  to  prepare  the  coffee,  and  I  advance  with 
Edward  to  meet  the  new-comers.  They  arc  foiu"  in 
number,  and  I  fmd  tliem  sitting  upon  one  of  the  massire 
niins  which  I  had  visited  an  hour  before.  After  tlie 
customary  Salnm  Al'-ikottm,  to  wliicli  tJiey  rise  and 
answer  imnicdialely.  Afetkoum  Sahm,  according  to  the 
estahlitihod  etiquette  when  peace  is  intended,  I  mvitethem 
to  sit  down  Hgiiiii,  and  we  seat  ourselves  by  their  sides. 

Coffee  and  pipes  are  handed  round  witlrout  inten-al, 
while  we  repeatedly  exrhanf^e  the  reciprocal  forms  of 
pohtencss  which  •constitute  the  current  coin  between 
gentlemen  of  tJio  desert  "  Entoum  thaychin  ?" 
"Thayehin!"  "E!-hamd  Lillahl"  " Oua  entoum?" 
"  Thayebin  T  "  Marimba  hekoum  1"  "  Allah  Yessalem- 
koum,"  Ac.  &<•.— {'^  Are  you  well  V  "  Good  !"  *'  Praised 
be  the  Lord!"  "And  you?"  "Quite  well!"  "You 
are  welcome!"  "Tlie  Lord  protect  youl"  Ac.  Ac.) 
As  it  <loes  not  reiguire  any  groat  expenditure  of  tutcllcet 
to  keep  up  a  couvci-salion  of  tins  nature.  I  avail  myself 
of  the  opjiortunity  to  study  the  countenances  of  our 
guests,  without  seeming  to  stare  at  them  with  inquisi- 
tive rudeneas. 

The    Scheikh     Dhalf-oullali-Abou-Daouk,    who    is  a 


A»D  HIS  THRF.E  COUPAMlOSa 


18S 


roigliij  persoiuige,  lordiog  it  absolutely  over  all  the 
country  we  aro  about  to  travel  through,  is  a  tall  fellov, 
nearly  six  feet  higb."  He  looks  sixty,  tliough  strong  and 
muscular  as  a  bull ;  his  brown  face  is  emilmg ;  his 
cltceks  ptuiup  ;  his  nogc  aquiUnc  ;  hii)  mouth  cnonnous. 
Wh«n  he  unfolds  it,  three  or  four  teeth  as  long  ns  the 
keyo  of  a  jiiaiiu,  aud  roH  nanteji  in  gurgUe  rasto,  protrude 
at  least  half  an  inch.  Ilis  voice  is  hoarse  ;  his  eyes 
Uoodshot,  and  alTocted  by  acute  oplithnlmU.  A  valuable 
obserratioti  I  I  will  cure  the  Schcikli  with  some  Kcgent's 
pomatum,  and  expect  ever  after  to  become  his  dearest 
friend.  The  costume  ef  the  desert  monarch  is  shabby  in 
the  extreme.  His  gown  is  threadbare ;  his  cloak  no 
better  ;  his  turban  scarcely  retains  any  distinguishable 
colour ;  and  bis  boots,  originally  red,  arc  in  a  state  of 
dilapidation  painful  to  contemplate.  Another  happy 
discovery  1  Ucre  is  a  ready  opportunity  to  dispose  of  a 
complete  equipment  from  our  stores,  and  anotlior  avenue 
to  the  afTeetions  of  tlic  honourable  iScheikh. 

On  Iiifi  right  hand  sits  his  brother,  a  One  old  man 
with  the  expression  of  a  benevolent  bandit ;  always 
smiling,  while  hia  large  black  eyes  embrace  your  whole 
person.  The  dress  of  this  magnate  consists  of  a  ragged 
Hhirt,  a  cloak,  and  turban,  equally  tattered,  and  a  pair 
of  boots  in  even  worse  condition  than  those  of  Abou- 
Daouk.  It  is  quite  endent  a  second  suit  of  clothes  will 
be  in  sjieedy  requisition. 

Let  us  pass  to  the  two  others  :  1  am  nmch  mistaken 
if  the  first  is  not  the  cuimingcst  old  roguo  within 
thirty  leagues.     His  nose  aud  lips  are  thin,  his  oyes 

*  Tnnilalor'a  note :— 'll**  TmI  algbt  la  iho  original ;  but  tbs  Fiiuicli  iuoh  i* 
to>ng«r  Uaa  oun. 


lu 


TIIR  CONPBRE>CK  OFKNED. 


btadt  and  piercing  as  a  U'lrier's,  liis  body  as  lean 
tliat  of  a  cuckoo.  The  second,  a  tall,  truculent-looking 
follow,  between  thirty  and  forty ;  a  glance  couvinccs 
mo  that  he  would  strangle  both  father  and  mother  for 
twenty  piantrea. 

All  four  have  come  on  horsehack,  and  their  hiMHM 
are  tied  to  the  lances,  which  Bedouina  nerer  part  with 
except  in  circumstances  like  the  present.  But  they  have 
taken  care  to  retain  a  complete  equipment  of  swords, 
khaiidjars,  and  pistols,  which  give  tliem  altogether  a  very 
complete  brigand-like  appearance. 

Half-a-dozen  pipes  and  cups  of  coffee  being  duly  dia- 
cussfd,  tliesc  worthy  gentlemen  hint,  through  Ilamdan. 
that  thoy  would  have  no  objection  to  eat  a  little,  and  that 
bread  for  instance  would  pi-ove  particularly  acceptable. 
Matteo  runs  to  the  cantine,  and  distributes  to  each  of 
them  lialf  of  one  of  the  small  round  thick  loaves  which 
are  made  in  Jenisalem.  Our  guests  seem  greatly  pleased, 
and  each  nibbles  his  share  with  as  much  zest  as  if  it  was 
a  bun  from  Felix's. 

But  we  hare  lost  an  hour,  and  have  not  yet  entered  in 
medtas  res.  Every  time  1  venture  to  approach  the  point 
of  interest,  I  am  saluted  with  a  new  volley  of  "Eutoum 
tlmycbin?"  ("Arc  you  welM")  &c.  Of  course  I  repeat 
the  appropriate  answers,  and  the  conference  is  once  more 
postponed.  Ten  times  I  have  expatiated  upon  my  love 
of  the  country  and  its  inhabitants,  upon  ray  wish  to  reside 
as  long  as  possible  among  them,  my  very  dear  friends, 
my  brothers,  I  might  as  well  bo  whistUng.  "  Marhaba 
bekoum."  ("You  are  welcome,")  is  their  only  reply  ;  and 
then  follow  again  the  questions  concerning  my  health. 
It  is  enough  to  drive  one  mad ;  but  there  is  no  remedy. 


I 


THE   TI!t;ATV   AB8AS01D. 


183 


A  second  hour  slips  by  hs.  With  imMring  perse- 
verance I  go  through  tlic  part  I  am  compelled  to  act> 
when  just  as  I  am  reduced  to  despair.  Hamdan  pohtely 


^K  wi 

Pr: 


Legs  mo  to  retire  and  leave  him  alone  to  Heltio  business 


with  the  Djahalins.  Edward  and  I  depart  most  willingly, 
d  the  worthy  rxinfcdcrates  proceed  to  debate  the 
questiou  among  themselves.  For  the  sake  of  dignity 
they  remove  also,  and  seek  a  more  sequestered  council- 
dmmber. 

A  third,  hour  rolls  on,  at  the  expiration  of  which  we 
are  invited  to  join  the  discussion.  Tlie  pipes  and  cofTec 
arc  introduced  again,  and  finally  the  conditions  of  Abou- 
Daouk  for  allowing  iis  a  free  passage  through  his  terri- 
tory, and  affording  us  also  his  most  graciouii  protection, 
are  explicitly  stated.  They  constitute  a  duplicate  of  the 
agreement  wc  have  already  made  with  Hamdan.  Abou- 
Daouk  engages  to  provide  us  for  the  same  price,  with  the 
same  additional  number  of  guards  on  foot  and  horseback, 
and  to  superintend  them  himself  Our  little  army  is  thus 
doubled  at  a  word,  and  now  amounts  to  thirty-two 
effective  men  ;  for  our  Thiiamoras  have  not  the  slightest 
idea  of  leaving  us,  and,  though  beyond  their  own  ground, 
they  cling  to  the  salary  wo  have  promised,  and  meau  to 
receive  it  as  long  as  tliey  possibly  can.  The  two  tribes 
appear  on  the  best  of  terms,  and  we  feel  convinced  of 
their  cordial  co-operation,  if  danger  should  arise. 

Abou-Daouk  considers  it  his  duty  to  warn  us  of  the 
imprudence  of  our  attempting  to  go  as  (ar  as  Karak.  This 
seems  to  him  quite  impracticable,  and  he  advises  us 
to  bait  at  Djebel-Sdoum.  1  lumdan  had  cautioned  me  already 
not  to  hint  to  the  Djahalin  Scheikh  our  fixed  purpose  of 
visiting  the  eastern  side  of  tlie  Uead  Sea.     I  therefore 


180 


DEPAnTRE   mnjl   ATS-IUBDT. 


bold  my  uto^oe,  aod  sufaacrilfc  ai  onoe  to  the  profTeretl 
ooaditioDs.  We  ahtke  Iiands  over  tlie  bargain,  and  feol 
sotttfied  that  we  shall  rvacb  at  least  the  mountain  of 
Sodom,  and  re<conimence  our  march  to-morrow  iiioruing. 

It  was  high  time  to  oonclade  tlic  treat}-,  for  vfc  were 
half-slarred.  and  night  came  od  before  we  cotild  stt  down 
to  dinner.  Aft«r  our  meal,  Aboii-Daouk  and  hi^  frieuda 
vmted  cmr  tent,  when  I  introduced  my  travclUug  oMn- 
panions,  towards  whom  the  Ojahahn  chiefs  were  lavish  of 
their  expressions  of  fHenchjhip  and  devotion. 

Oar  evening  has  been  delightful :  the  sky  is  admirably 
pure,  and  our  <:amp,  vritb  its  bivouac  fires,  prcsentii  under 
the  gum-ti-cc8  a  most  curious  sight.  As  soon  as  our  visitors 
retire,  cAch  resumes  bis  usual  task  :  our  notes  are  llnislted, 
our  acquisitiouii  of  the  day  arranged  in  order,  and  we 
retu-e  to  rest  with  perfect  satisfaction. 

Jontnitnf  lOtL 

At  break  of  day  we  are  all  on  foot,  but  we  lose  more 
time  than  u^ual.  Our  rnoukris,  like  ourselves,  &ud  Ayn- 
Djedy  a  delightful  halting-place.  In  such  a  dreary  wil- 
derness no  one  could  e.\pcct  to  stimible  on  this  enticing 
spoth.  Witli  the  first  blush  of  dawn  the  hu-ds  b^^in  to 
warble,  and  the  unclouded  sun  slicds  the  bright  lustre  of 
the  morning  on  the  oasis  wo  are  Uttlc  hkely  to  visit  again. 

By  four  minutes  past  nine,  wo  are  in  tlic  saddle,  and  in 
line  of  march  passing  before  the  ruined  mill  I  have  already 
moutionctt.  A  door  with  a  pointed  arch  forms  the 
entrance,  and  a  stone  aqueduct,  now  broken,  formerly 
conveyed  the  water  from  the  spring  to  (urn  one  of  those 
primitive  and  clumsily-constructctl  wheels,  still  used 
throughout  Arubia,  The  foot  of  the  cliff  is  scarcely  a 
hundred,  and  the  sea-sliore  not  more  than  six  hundred 


4 


EXTEX8IVK  KUIS8. 


187 


yards  to  our  left,  but  both  are  two  huni'cil  yariis  below 
llie  level  of  the  platform  wlierc  we  passed  the  night. 

By  seven  minutes  past  nine,  marching  soiith-west.  wo 
reach  tlie  brink  and  ci-oss  tlie  bed  of  a  ravijic  rnnning 
towards  the  Dead  8ca.  Looking  to  onr  left,  the  shon; 
appears  entirely  covereii  with  vegetation,  verdant  a,-)  a 
gcirdei].  Ruins  are  plentifully  srjittored  around,  but  all 
apparently  of  inferior  buildings.  There  (ixc  also  vestige.'* 
of  enclosing  walls,  and  inasaivc  abutments  formed  of  huge 
stones.  Siifh  are  the  remains  of  Ayn-Djedy,  the  Eu-gedi 
of  the  Scriptures. 

We  are  now  nearly  on  a  level  with  the  Dead  Sea  ;  and 
the  shore,  covered  with  detritus,  is  here  four  hundred  yards 
in  breadth,  liy  tliirty-two  minutes  past  nine  we  pass  be- 
tween two  hillocks  crowned  by  ruins.  Upon  the  right 
liand,  about  three  hundred  yards  from  the  road,  we  ilescry 
Uie  remains  of  n  i^quare  structure,  called  by  the  Arabs  EI- 
QasT  (the  [lalacv).  Here  the  shore  widens  rapidly  and 
forms  a  true  delta,  receiving  the  Ouad-cl-Arcydjah,  which 
opeas  to  our  right  on  the  flank  of  the  mountain  side. 
Opposite  the  eminence,  on  the  summit  of  which  is  the 
Qftsr,  the  sliore  is  barely  seven  hundred  yards  broad  ;  in 
front  of  the  bed  of  the  Ouad-el-Areydjah  it  widens  to  a 
Uioiisand  yards. 

By  thirty-seven  minutes  past  nine  we  cross  the  bed  of 
this  Ouad,  which  is  commanded,  right  in  front  of  us,  by  a 
large  eminence,  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards  in  diameter, 
cleft  vertically  by  the  ton-cnt.ard  covered  with  ruins simiLir 
to  tJioso  I  have  already  mentioned.  Hy  forty-three  niumtes 
past  nine  we  halt  among  the  ruins,  eight  hundred  yards 
fr«m  the  sea,  to  await  tJie  rear  of  the  caravan,  which  is 
more  straggling  and  extended  than  prudence  recommouda. 


ISS 


THE   BN-OBDI   OP  SCR1PTCBB. 


Ill  something  more  tliaii  a  quarter  of  an  hour  we 
all  collected,  and  pursue  our  course  south-west.  The  shore 
narrows  again,  and  at  sovoii  uiinutcs  past  ten  we  cross  a 
watercourse,  opening  between  two  large  hillocks,  standing 
in  advance  of  others,  and  forming  part  of  a  chain  extend- 
ing to  the  mountain  which  constitutes  the  right  bank  of 
the  Ouad-el-Areydjah.  The  ruins  of  Aj'n-Djodj  cease 
here,  and  it  is  evident  the  ancient  city  never  passed  this 
boundary. 

Let  us  pause  a.  moment,  to  review  as  briefly  as  possible 
all  that  sacred  and  profane  writers  have  taught  us  of  the 
history  of  tliis  celebrated  locality.  I  have  already-  gaid,,i 
when  speaking  of  the  Ouad  and  Belail-Hasasa,  that  the 
primitive  name  of  Ayn-Djcdy  was  Hazezou-tamar  (the 
town  or  hamlet  of  the  palnis).  Under  this  same  title  the 
town  built  near  the  magnificent  spring  of  Ayn-Djedy 
(spnng  of  the  goat,  which  name  became  in  af^er  years  tbe 
designation  of  the  town  itself),  is  spoken  of  in  Genesis 
(cliap.  xiv.  7). 

Moaes,  when  stating  the  expeditiou  of  the  kings  leagued 
with  Chedorlaomer  (the  powerful  for  ever),  says,  "  And 
they  returned,  and  came  to  Ennnshpat,  which  is  Kadcsh, 
and  smote  all  the  country  of  the  Amalekites.  and  also  tbe 
Amorites,  that  dwelt  in  Hazczon-tamar."  This  event  wa 
anterior  to  the  disaster  of  the  Pcutapolis,  and  it  seems 
Ksult  from  the  sacred  text,  tfiat  at  tliat  period  Hazczon- 
tamar  was  the  capital  of  the  Anioritos.  This  primitiro 
name  is  mentioned  but  once  again,  in  Clironicles,  where 
it  is  positively  identified  with  tluit  of  En-gedi  (Chron,  ii. 
XX.  2).  As  the  fact  concerning  which  tlie  original  name 
of  this  'town  happeius  to  be  recalled  is  contemporaneoi 
with  King  Jehoshaphat,  whilst  wc  fmd  the  mune  already 


THE  EN-GEDI   OP   SCBIPTUBB. 


189 


exchange<t  for  that  of  En-gedi  in  tho  passages  ooncerning 
Darid,  it  secmii  pretty  CLTtain  that  these  tvro  dcsi^ationa 
were  employed  indifferently. 

In  Jashua  (xv.),  amongst  the  towns  of  the  tribe  of 
.ludah,  wo  find : — 61.  "In  the  wildcrnCHS  Beth-arabah, 
iliddin.  and  Sccacah."  G2.  "  And  Xibshan,  and  the  city 
of  Salt,  and  En-gedi ;  six  cities  with  their  villages." 

At  a  later  period  we  read  in  the  1st  Book  of  Saiimel : — 
xxiii.  29.  "  And  Darid  went  up  from  thence  iuid  dwelt  in 
strong  holds  at  Eu-gcdi." 

Cbap>.  xxir.  1.  "And  it  came  to  pass,  when  Saul  was 
returned  from  following  the  Philistines,  that  it  was  told 
him.  sayiitg,  Behold,  David  is  in  the  wilderness  of  En-gedi. 

2.  "  Then  Saui  took  tliree  thousand  chosen  men  out 
of  all  Israel,  and  went  to  seek  Darid  and  his  meo  upon 
the  rocks  of  the  wild  goats. 

3.  "  And  he  came  to  the  sliecp  cotes  hy  the  way,  whore 
was  a  cave  ;  and  Saul  went  in  to  cover  his  feet  (I  purposely 
abstain  from  giving  the  meaning  of  this  expression,  which 
I  translate  litenilly) :  aud  Daviil  and  his  men  remained  in 
the  sides  of  the  cave. 

4.  "  And  the  men  of  David  said  unto  him.  Behold  the 
ilay  of  whicli  the  Lord  said  unto  thet^  Behold,  1  will 
deliver  thine  enemy  into  thine  hand,  that  thou  maycat  do 
tn  him  as  it  shall  so(!m  good  unto  thee.  Then  David 
arose,  and  cut  off  the  skirt  of  Saul's  rohc  privily. 

5.  "  And  it  came  to  pass  afterward  that  David's  heart 
smote  him,  because  he  had  cut  off  Saul's  skirt. 

6.  "  And  ho  said  unto  his  nton,  tho  Lord  forbid  that  I 
should  do  this  thing  unto  my  master,  the  Lord's  anointed, 
to  stretch  forth  mine  hand  against  him,  seeing  he  is  the 
anointed  of  the  Lord. 


m 


190 


TUB   ES-GEUI   0?  8CRIPTURB. 


7.  "  So  David  stayed  his  seiranta  with  these  words,  and 
suffered  thoin  not  t^i  rtse  against  Saul.  But  Said  rose  up 
out  of  the  cave,  and  went  on  his  way,"  &c.  Ac. 

22.  "  David  and  his  men  gat  them  up  unto  the  hold." 

1  sliouid  bo  vcrj*  much  iuclincd  to  place  the  sceuc  of 
that  event  in  the  spacious  cavern,  called  the  Bir-el->[au- 
qouchieh,  vrhicli  is  so  close  to  the  Ouad-Hazaza.  I  leave 
to  abler  Bcholars  to  decide  whether  this  hypothesis  is 
admissible.  However,  1  must  observe  that  although  the 
Bir-cl-Mauqouchich  is  situated  indeed  in  the  desert  of 
En-gedi,  and  on  the  road  loading  to  that  beautiful  spring, 
it  is  still  sufficiently  far  from  it  to  leave  some  doubt  as  to 
the  identity,  which  I  propose  with  due  reserve.* 

In  the  Song  of  Solomou  (i.  14)  wo  read  again,  "My 
beloved  is  unto  me  as  a'cluster  of  camphire  id  the  vine-^ 
yards  of  Bn-gedi." 

The  camphire  (idfcr)  is  the  henna,  a  shrub,  the  lea? 
of  which  produce  the  colour  used  by  the  Arab  and  THirkish' 
women  to  Ungo  their  nails  wilU  piuk.     Is  this  shrub  stil 
to  be  found  in  Ayn-Djedy  ?     I  cannot  say.     I  only  kobrf^ 
that  I  have  not  found  it ;  neither  could  I  dist^ovcr  the 
vines  which  Cohen,  the  learned  translator  of  the  Bible, 
afhmiH  to  liave  boon  still  in  oxistonco  up  to  the  middle  of 
the  last  century. 

We  find  En-gedi  mentioned  once  more  in  a  passage  of 
the  prophet  Ezx-kiel,  and  1  confess  myself  unable  to  under- 
stand the  following  verse  (xlvii.  10)  :— 

•  H.  lU  StHiIaj'a  hjrpoihoiu,  vritb  rvpoct  to  (hU  cBvoni.  b  tbo  mora  UkaJj  to 
prava  Mmot ;  ■*,  in  Orivutnl  cnuulriiv.  i«pi<dBlly  nmnui;  uiuiitsriii){  trib 
InMaiiM  •nuing  the  Algoiiuc  .^mb*  of  tint  jtibhiiI  ilikj — c*r<iriif  iw\  ^nrta  i 
nRmdl;  preferred  for  ihoFpcvtaa,  b«cMiM  they  offer  both  dwltor  micl  fccorttj 
TIm  onTem  of  Uia  EBMtMUaijuuuhiBh  wu  tlie  lU'ira  oomBniant  in  that  . 
u  it  alw)  coataiacd  ■  will  to  vator  tho  Aaep.  Xow  ruul  asaln  the  Ihinl  laiM ; 
"And  he  cvno  to  Ibu  Hbi>"[)Pol««  bjr  th«  mjr,  irLore  traa  •  «t*.~  ll«rai*i 
cbn«fotd  ooiDcidouon — XaxtmhitoM. 


THE   KS-IIKI)1   OP   SCRKTUKE. 


t9i 


'  And  it  shall  como  to  pass  ttiat  the  fishers  shall  stand 
upon  it  from  Eii-gcdi  even  unto  Kn-eglaim  ;  they  shall  be 
a  place  to  spread  fortli  iieta  ;  their  flsli  stiall  be  aecordins 
to  their  kinds,  as  ttic  iish  of  the  great  sea,  exceeding 
many." 

If  this  verse,  the  mystical  »ense  of  which  I  shall  not 
venture  U>  inquire  into,  was  to  be  understood  literally,  it  is 
plain  that  the  worda  ol'  tho  profihecy  arc  as  yet  not  accom- 
plished ;  as,  from  En-gciU  to  En-egLaim  (probably  iden- 
tical with  Ayn-Adjlah,  a  locality  situated  towards  the 
northern  point  of  the  Dead  Sea,  between  Jericho  and  the 
Jordan),  fishermen  might  spread  their  nets  for  a  long  while 
without  drawing  up  anything  except  pebbles  and  floated 
wood. 

This  is  all  that  the  Scripture  tells  us  of  Ayn-!)jedy  or 
En-gedi.  The  existence  of  this  city,  now  completely 
deserted,  huted  until  a  comparatively  late  period,  Stephen 
of  Byzantium,  who  calls  it  Engadda,  mciitious  it  as  a  large 
town,  situated  at  a  short  distance  from  S{)dom,  in  Arabia. 

Saint  Jerome,  in  his  commentary  on  tlic  verse  1  hare 
just  quoted  from  Kzckiel,  nays  that  En-oglaim  (Ayn- 
Adjelim)  is  at  the  head  of  the  Dead  Sea.  where  tho  Jordan 
empties  it«clf  into  it,  and  that  Eu-gedi  is  at  the  otlier 
extreme  point,  where  the  sea  terminates.  This  is  quite 
inaccurate,  for  En-gedi  is  situated  near  the  middle  of  tlio 
western  coast  of  tJie  Asphaltic  Lake. 

Josephiis,  who  was  perfectly  well  acquainted  with  this 
town,  wliich  he  calls  indifferently  Eyyahi,  Eyyaftai.  and 
BYYotit  places  it  clotio  to  the  Dead  Sen,  at  a  distince  of 
three  hundred  stadia  from  Jerusalem  (Ant.  Jud.  ix).  He 
mentions  (Bel.  Jud.  iii.  2)  that  it  was  the  scat  of  oDC  of 
the  eleven  topaichies  (governments)   of  Judaea.    And, 


192 


THE  JOURNRY  CONTINUED. 


lastly,  he  tells  iis  (Bel.  -hul.  v.  3,)  that  the  assassins  who 
had  taken  refuge  i»  Masada.  uuder  the  command  of  Eleazar, 
got  possession  of  it  shortly  before  the  capture  of  their 
fortress  by  Silva. 

Pliny,  who  calls  it  Kngadda  (I,  t.  17),  says  that  it  was 
situated  below  (south  of)  tlio  country  inhabited  by  the 
Kssenians,  and  that  it  was  remarkable  for  its  fertility 
and  furesta  of  patm-trccii.  Lastly,  Kusebius  (ofi  voeem 
Engaddi)  assures  us  that  the  bahn  of  Gitcad  came  from 
this  city. 

I  hare  meutjoucd  all  that  ronmius  of  tlus  celebrated 
place — an  immense  area,  overmpread  witli  fragments  of 
antiquity,  the  ruins  of  an  Arab  mill  (perhaps  wore  ancient 
than  it  looks),  a  spring  of  pure  water,  and  a  splendid  vege- 
tation. As  to  the  vines  and  palm-trees,  tliey  may  have 
existed  formerly,  but  there  is  no  sign  of  them  left. 

Lot  us  now  return  to  our  itinerary. 

At  the  spot  where  the  ruins  of  Ayn-Djedy  end,  we  are 
only  two  hundred  yards  from  the  sea,  and,  as  we  keep 
moving  in  the  same  direction,  we  draw  neai'er  and  nearer 
to  the  shore,  so  tliat  by  fifteen  minutes  past  tea  we  find 
ourselves  at  the  bead  of  a  gulf,  the  beach  not  being  more 
than  sixty  yards  to  oiu-  left.  Hy  seventeen  minutes  past 
ten  we  reach  another  ravine.  Here  the  beach,  which  is 
one  hundred  yards  broad,  is  covered  witli  large  stones. 
To  our  right  is  a  high  mountain,  distant  five  or  six 
hundred  yards ;  for  the  first  time  we  find  the  air  strongly 
tainted  with  sulphur,  exactly  like  the  smell  of  the  Bareges 
water.  Everyone  knows  that  this  smell  is  not  unwhole- 
some, and  only  in  .a  slight  degree  disagreeable.  The  water 
of  the  lake  is  here  of  a  whitish  colour,  and  the  stones  it 
wadies  are  coated  with  a  milky  tint,  which  sufficiently 


BIRKKT-KL-Kn  A1.il. 


^ 


denotes  the  presence  of  sulphur,  even  if  llie  odour  had 
been  less  perceptible. 

At  twcnty-tliroe  luiiiiitcs  past  ton  vrc  reach  aiiothor 
ravine,  the  shore  continuing  to  widen ;  at  thirty  and 
thirty-six  minutes  past  ten  we  meet  two  waterfalls  on  the 
side  of  the  intiutitain,  two  hundi'ed  and  fifty  yards  to  our 
light.  Two  corresponding  trenches  furrow  the  delta, 
"wliich  Ls  here  6ve  hundred  yards  in  hreadth,  formed  hy 
the  gravel  waahed  down  hy  these  torrents,  which  at 
certain  periods  empty  themselves  into  the  sea. 

Wc  halt  five  minuttis,  to  allow  our  luggage  to  c\me  up, 
and  then  rcsumo  our  course  south-south-west.  From 
thirty-nine  to  fifty-four  minutes  past  ten  Uie  shore 
DarrowH  to  about  two  hundred  yards,  and  is  broken  by 
large  |K>ol8  formed  by  the  retreat  of  the  sea  when  it  siidis 
below  the  usual  level.  Hy  fifty-four  minutes  past  ten  we 
reach  another  rent  in  the  clifT,  down  which  a  cascado 
precipitates  itself  into  tlie  sea. 

t  fifty-six  minutes  past  ten  we  are  marching  due 
wulb,  between  a  high  mountain,  not  more  tlian  liftcou 
yards  distant  {o  our  right,  and  the  sea,  which  is  only  five 
or  six  yards  to  the  left.  Hy  two  minutes  past  ek-vcn  the 
bills  we  have  rounded  are  succeeded  by  another  range  a 
great  deal  lower ;  and  at  length,  by  eight  minutes  past 
eleven,  wc  roach  liirkct-el-Iilialii.  wliich  marks  tJie 
extremity  of  the  deep  gulf  beginning  at  Ayn-Djedy. 
From  what  is  this  name  of  Birket-cl-Khah!  derired  t  I 
put  the  question  to  our  Hcdouiris,  when  the  Scheikh 
Hamdan  relates  the  following  story  during  our  temporary 
halt:— 

"Abraham,  known  to  the  Arabs  by  the  name  of 
El-Klialii  (the  friend  of  God),  which  name  he  has  also 


^^ci 

^  yard 


TO*. 


194 


LEGEND  OF    BIBKBT-FI.-KHALIL. 


lofi  to  the  town  of  Hebron,  wlioro  ho  resided,  came  one 
day  to  ttiis  vcrj  spot,  nitli  his  mule,  to  purchase  his  usual 
provision  of  salt — the  inhahitanta  of  the  place  being 
accntitomed  to  prepare  salt,  and  soil  it  to  the  jHMplc  of  tho 
upper  counti-y.  Tho  salt-merchants  had  the  impertinence 
to  tell  Abraham  they  had  none  to  sell,  thongh  there  were 
lai^  lieaps  of  salt  lying  around.  Tho  friend  of  AUali. 
inootiscd  by  such  audacity,  determined  to  punish  the 
offenders.  So  he  answer«<l  thus  :  '  You  say  you  hare  no 
salt — so  be  it :  you  have  none  left,  and  never  shall  you 
have  any  more.  You  shall  no  longer  find  salt  in  this 
place,  which  I  curse  ;  and,  moreover,  the  road  from  hence 
to  Hebron  is  closed  against  you.'  Immediately  the 
anathema  of  the  patriarch  •wns  accomplisheil — the  salt 
changed  into  stone,  retaining  still  its  oi-iginal  appearance, 
and  the  Onad-el-Khalil  ceased  to  be  practicable  for 
travcllei-8.  Tho  guilty  traders  vainly  entreated  for  pardon  : 
Abraham  was  inexorable — he  ceased  to  traffic  with  them, 
Biul  from  that  day  the  Birket-ol-Klialil  is  tttrewed  with 
salt,  wliich  is  not  salt,  but  tasteless  stones." 

I  have  not  altered  a  syllalile  of  Uamdan's  story,  whidi, 
told  on  the  spot,  produced  considerahlc  effect,  the  llcdouins 
believing  in  it  implicitly  ;  nothing  woidd  shake  their  con- 
viction that  tho  stones  forming  the  noil  of  Birket-el-Khalil 
are  the  identical  heaps  of  salt  mctamorpliosod  by  the 
curse  of  Abraham.  "Chouf,"  say  they,  "fih  melehh, 
ouelakin  ma  iich  melehh  "  ("  See,  'tis  salt,  an<l  still  it  is  not 
Bait.")  I  picked  up  some  samples  of  the  crystallisation 
which  has  given  rise  to  this  strange  legend ;  and  we 
resumed  our  march  at  twelve  minute?  past  eleven. 

In  front  of  Birket-el-Khalil  the  shore  is  only  a  hundred 
jards  broad ;  then  comes  tJie  Ouad-Khabani,   a  valley 


OPAn-EL-KnALlI^ 


195 


I  extending  fire  huitdrurt  yards  to  our  right,  and  commanded 

[on  its  southern  flank  by  a  largo  mountain  of  ihc  same 

[name,  Djebel-el-Khjibara.    Tlie  highest  pinnacle  of  that 

mountain  is  mjariy  tlirce  miles  off,  and  along  it«  declivity 

are  smaller  hills  and  MUocks,  lowering  gradually  until 

[they  approach  within  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards.     By 

thirty-five  minutes  past  eleven  we  are  opposite  the  Ouad- 

el-Khalil,  which  opens  by  a  small  triangular  plain,  five 

[hundred  yards  wide,  into  a  wide  delta.     We  are  here  one 

[thousand  or  twelve  hundred  yards  from  the  sea,  and  oa 

[the  eastern  shore,  opposite,  we  liavc  directJy  in  face  the 

BQmioit  of  the  Djebei-Atarous. 

By  forty  mitnites  past  eleven,  still  bearing  to  tlic  south- 

tsouth'wcst,  wc  crosa  the  various  beds  through  which  the 

liraters  of  the  Ouad-ei-Khalii  rush  from  the  mountains  <rf' 

Cannnn  into  the  Dead  Sea,      We  are  then  ctjuall}'  distant 

from  the  shore  and  the  high  mountain  range  which  bounds 

the  horizon  to  our  right,  and  about  six  hundred  yards  from 

3th.     The  side  of  tlw   mountain    is   indented    with    a 

fcircular  liollow,  rescnibling  a  crater,  overlooked  on  the 

[north  and  south  by  two  lofty  pinnacles.     Ten  minutes 

ilfttor  we  are  opposite  this  spot ;  Uic  plain  which  separates 

fiifi  from  the  mountain  is  dotted  with  small  eminences  of 

a  dirty  green  coloiu* — mere  sand  hills,  worn  and  corroded 

Iby  the  winter  floods. 

At  fifty-five  minutes  past  elcTcn  wc  halt  for  brcaJc&at 
in  this  glen,  four  hundred  yards  from  the  shore.  By 
twenty-eight  minutes  past  twelve  we  mount  again,  and 
poraue  our  march  in  the  same  direction,  south-south-west 
Wo  cross  the  bed  of  another  torrent,  containing  an  islet 
composed  of  sand  and  rolled  pebbles,  and  arrive  by  forty- 
five  minutes  past  twelve  in  front  of  the  Ouad-cl-Scyal 

o2 


196 


TALLBT   OP  TUB  OVU  TUtVS. 


(the  valley  of  the  gnm-trees),  which  opens  nine  hundretl 
yards  off  on  our  right.  We  are  now  two  Imn Jred  and 
fifty  yftrds  from  (he  sea,  nuu'ching  duo  south  in  a  paraDel 
line  with  llie  shore. 

Tho  range  of  hills  commanding  the  southern  side  of  the 
Ouad-cl-Soyal  inelin&s  rapidly  to  the  west.  We  cross 
many  more  dry  watercourses  before  one  o'clock  ;  the  foot 
of  the  hills  18  now  distant  alxtnt  two  thousand  yards. 
Wc  change  our  course  and  march  soulh-east  until  eight 
minutes  past  one.  The  shore  is  then  three  hundred  yards 
off,  and  a  new  range  of  hilli;  appears  at  tho  dbiance  of 
nearly  two  miles  to  our  right.  Tho  green  santly  hillocks 
we  hare  already  noticed,  cover  the  plain  lying  between 
US'  and  thi«  range.  Wc  tlicn  alter  our  course  to  south- 
Bonth-wcst,  coasting  a  small  gulf,  beyond  which  (lie  shore 
widens  rapidly.  Sy  twenty-nine  minutes  past  ono  W8 
are  bcvcu  hundred  yards  from  llie  sea.  The  calcined 
fragments  of  rock  composing  th«  volcanic  ejections 
already  noticed,  appear  again,  profusely  scattered  OTer 
the  ground. 

By  degrees  wc  incliao  almost  due-west,  bearing  away 
from  the  Dead  Sea  ;  and  by  forty  minutes  past  one  march 
in  the  direction  of  a  mountain,  the  side  of  which  seems  to 
have  been  rent  by  some  volcanic  eruption  ;  this  mountain, 
commanding  the  northern  side  of  the  valley,  or  Onad-d- 
llafaf,  is  distant  about  thrce-qiurterrt  of  a  league.  By 
forty-eight  minutes  after  one  we  pass  the  bed  of  a  torrent, 
thirty  yartU  wide,  which  forms  the  outlet  for  the  waters 
of  the  Ouad-el-Hafaf.  Beyond  this  lies  a  plain,  deeply 
furrowed  and  covered  with  hillocks  of  greenish  sand, 
between  which  we  wind  our  course  until  tea  minutes 
Jo    two.  when    wc  reach  a  lower  level,  bounded  by  a 


PANTASTICAI.   APrBAHA^lCB  OP   HILIXWKS, 


197 


watercourse,  on  the  oOier  side  of  wliidt  we  turn  again  to 
the  south -south-west. 

Nothing  can  be  more  fjiutustical  than  the  variety  of 
shapes  assumed  l>y  these  crumbling  hillocks.  Some  of 
tlicm  resemble  an  old  gotliic  castle,  with  round  towers  built 
close  to  each  other,  but  without  connecting  curtains,  and 
■with  their  bases  lialf  buried  under  conical  heaps  of  fallen 
rubbish.  Ry  six  niiinitt-s  past  two  we  are  in  front  of  the 
Outtd-en-Nfiurieh  (tlic  valley  of  the  tigers  or  panthers), 
with  the  hill  commanding  the  southern  side  of  this  valley 
only  fifty  yards  otf  to  our  right.  We  then  march  nearly 
west,  but  soon  after  turn  su<ldenly  to  the  south,  and  koop 
steadily  moving  in  that  direction  until  forty-five  minutes 
paat  two,  when  we  arrive  at  our  halting  station  for  .the 
day.  We  encainp  on  the  side  of  a  hill,  neariy  three  miles 
from  the  sea. 

Five  or  six  hundred  yards  to  our  left  a  plain  commences, 
covered  nnth  sand  hillsof  a  whitish  green.  Thr^e  hillocks 
present  a  most  extraordinary  aspect  It  is  necessary  to  ' 
assure  us  positively  that  we  are  not  gazing  on  an  extensive 
city,  for  we  see  distinctly  what  appear  to  be  palaces, 
mosques,  towers,  houses,  slrecUt.  embankments,  and  otber 
mnumerable  edifices,  constructed  of  white  marble.  From 
the  ele%'ated  spot  where  we  pitch  our  tents,  we  discover 
eastward,  towards  tlie  sea,  tlie  peninsula  of  El-Lisan,  the 
nhorcs  of  which  do  not  seem  divided  from  the  western 
coast  on  which  we  are  standing  by  more  than  two  or  three 
tliousand  yards.  The  sand  hills  re-appear  agaiu  on  tlua 
peninstda,  and  one  could  almost  atlirm  that  two  largo 
towns  face  each  other  on  the  opposite  but  closely -approach- 
ing shores  of  the  Dead  Sea. 

Behind  us  we  observe  a  large  rent  in   the  mountain. 


198  THE   DJAUAUNS   JOIS   TUK   B8COBT. 

flurmounted  hy  a  lugb  peak,  crowned  with  ruins  ;  this  is 
the  hill  of  Sebbeb,  and  these  ruins  are  the  remains  of 
Maaada,  the  last  rampart  of  Jewish  iudepeaidenoe;.  To- 
morrow momiog  we  project  an  antiquarian  pilgrimage  to 
these  venerable  reUcs. 

The  Schiekh  Abou-Daouk  has  kept  his  word :  our  tents 
are  scarcely  pitched  when  his  people  join  us  ;  they  are 
much  darker  in  complexion  than  the  Thaameras,  and  their 
dress  consists  only  of  a  coarse  gray  shirt,  with  a  kafieh 
(turban)  of  no  definable  colour.  Their  shoes,  when  they 
have  any,  consist  merely  of  soles,  bound  with  strings 
round  the  great  toe  and  the  ankle,  bearing  some  analogy 
with  those  worn  by  the  mountaineers  of  Arragon  ;  some 
wretched-looking  matchlocks,  with  yataghans  and  khandjars 
no  better  than  the  fire-arms,  complete  the  equipment  of 
our  new  body-guard. 

When  passipg  in  front  of  the  Ouad-el-Seyal,  we  had 
descried  at  a  great  distance  the  heads  of  two  or  three 
camels,  and  we  had  been  somewhat  startled  by  the 
apparition.  Some  of  our  attendants  went  out  to  recon- 
noitre our  neighbours,  but  they  were  reported  to  be 
friends,  and  so  we  thought  no  more  about  them. 

During  the  day  Hamdan  has  left  us  in  quest  of  some 
encampment  where  he  might  purchase  two  sheep,  one  for 
ourselves,  the  other  for  our  escort,  whom  we  propose  to 
astonish  with  a  treat.  As  he  has  not  yet  returned,  to  the 
general  dissatisfaction,  our  trusty  Arabs  find  themselres 
obliged  to  resign  their  gastronomical  visions,  which  we  had 
rather  imprudently  excited. 

Unfortunately  the  want  of  fresh  meat  is  not  our  greatest 
privation :  we  have  only  enough  water  left  in  store  to 
make  our  soup  and  coffee  for  this  evenmg  and  to-morrow 


EKCAMPISa   OKOUKD  WITHOUT   WATEK. 


199 


"morning.  We  bavc  uono  to  spare  for  drinking,  and  must 
endure  oup  thirst  with  patience.  Our  horses,  mules,  and 
Arabs  arc  ruluctantly  compelled  to  follow  onr  example. 

We  had  been  promised  water  in  abundance  in  the  bed  of 
the  cascade  that  divides  lis  from  the  liill  of  Scbbch,  but 
wo  find  not  a  single  drop.  "  Ma  fich  mai'eh  I "  ("  No 
water!")  On  bearing  this  Jisnml  cry,  our  thirst  naturally 
increases,  while  our  poor  beasts  are  the  oa\y  uncom- 
plaining members  in  the  party,  though  tbcy  suffer  even 
tuoro  than  oui-sclvcs. 

On  our  arrival  at  tho  encamping  ground,  Mohammed, 
who,  from  the  tirst,  had  fult  mititrustl'ul  of  the  water  in 
tliis  sombre-looking  place,  had  gunc  on  in  advance,  and 
scrambled  with  his  horse  up  the  side  of  the  Scbbelt  Ho 
returns  to  announce  that  tho  wisest  course  wc  can  adopt 
to-day  is  to  persuatle  our^Ives  Uiat  we  drank  enough 
at  Ajn-Djcdy  yesterday  to  Kcrvc  ub  for  eiglit-and-forty 
bours.  However,  he  confides  to  me  in  strict  confidence 
that  he  discovered  in  a  huUow  between  tho  rocks,  water 
enough  to  satisfy  his  Uor&c,  and  that  the  whole  adjacent 
country  is  not  Ukcly  to  produce  as  much  more  as  would 
itlakc  the  thirst  of  a  pigeon.  It  is  true,  wo  may  retreat 
on  our  wine  :  but  such  wine  t^shakeu,  heated,  nauseous 
from  the  leather  bottles  in  which  it  has  been  tossed  for 
many  days  under  a  burning  sun.  The  substitute  is 
lamentable,  but  despair  will  not  furnish  water,  so  we 
summon  car  philosophy,  and  resign  ourselves  to  the 
chance  of  hydrophobia. 

We  purpose  to  console  our  Bedouins  by  increasing  tlieir 
allowance  of  oil  and  flour,  and  we  find  our  calcu- 

Kon  fortunate ;  with  more  to  fw/,  they  willingly  com- 
pound for  lees  io  Hrhik,  and  bear  the  privation  patiently. 


200 


A   StrSSTlTUTK   FUK   WATEK. 


Our  moukris  are  less  resigned,  and  for  the  first  time 
entice  Konio  uliow  of  coiiipasision  for  tlieir  bcastA.  1  Jo 
not  wiidi  to  aualysc  too  closely  iliia  novel  sentiinent  m^ 
Civmir  of  the  poor  creatures  committed  to  their  char 
who  look  this  evening  mor«  UutI  and  liuatCD  dovn  tiian 
usual,  when  cousigned  to  tlieir  accustomed  pickets. 

The  ground  on  which  we  encamp  is  parched  and  arid  ; 
rocks  wliich  seem  to  have  hccn  toasted  for  agOKi,  cxcoriie, 
and  fragments  of  lata  ;  such  are  the  components  of  this 
attractive  soil,  the  aspect  of  wiiich  would  alone  suffice  to 
make  patience  itself  irritable  and  thirety. 

It  nmy  he  readily  supposed  that  our  ditmcr  passes 
heavily  ;  but,  to  our  suqarise,  when  night  comes  on,  wo 
hear  our  whole  suite  singing.  Truly  miraculous  is  the 
effect  of  H  supplomoutal  ration  of  flour  and  oil  on  the 
heart  of  a  Iteiiouin  !  The  fellows  are  as  gay  and  joyous 
as  if  each  had  drank  a  bottle  of  cluimpagne.  Tliey 
dance  as  well  as  sing!  liOt  us  liastcn  to  enjoy  this 
curious  sight.  We  iorthwith  leave  our  tents,  and  proceed 
to  smoke  om-  chibouks  by  the  side  of  tli(;sc  merry  com- 
panions, whose  outlines  arc  reflected  in  dark,  wliimsjcal 
shadows  upon  a  fire  of  dry  tliorng.  1  say  thorns  ;  for  na 
to  finding  wood  to  bum  at  Scbbeh,  the  idea  is  chimerical. 

The  dance  onr  Arabs  are  executing  is  called  the 
"  Sword  Dance,"  This  sam]ile  of  barbarous  choregraphy 
is  thus  an-augcd  :— Eight  performers,  holding  em-h  other 
by  the  arras,  but  with  their  hands  thrown  forward,  chant 
a  burden  which  is  repeated  ad  liMtntn.  The  four  on  tlio 
right  begin ;  they  clap  their  hands  in  cadence,  whilst 
swinging  their  bodies  eillicr  from  riglit  to  left,  or  Imck- 
wards  and  forwards.  Wlien  they  have  done,  the  four  o» 
the  left  repeat  the  same  words,  clap  their  hands  in  ihc 


SWOKD    UANCB. 


SOI 


t 


manner,  and  perform  exactly  the  same  contortions. 
TliuHug  tliein  stands  another  actor,  who  is  ^Icnt,  and 
keeps  time  trith  the  hlade  of  his  sword  striking  against 
tlic  faces  of  the  singers.  Sometimes  lie  advances  upon 
tJicm,  when  thej-  di-aw  back  ;  then  he  retreats  in  turn, 
and  they  advance  on  him,  bending  down  mid  almost 
crouching  to  the  ground.  As  they  spring  np,  they  send 
forth  a  shrill,  j*iittural  cry  which  givas  a  fiendish  effect  to 
the  wliolc  perfonnancc.  As  tliC  singing  and  dancinjj; 
become  more  and  more  energetic,  their  faces  aj^unic  an 
expreauon  of  iucreased  ferocity  ;  and  after  half  an  hour 
of  tliis  stj-ongc  exercise,  tliey  reseml^e  m  many  wild 
beasts,  anticipating  a  projected  mnrder. 

This  spectacle,  witnessed  by  night;  in  such  a  phtce,  and 
by  the  light  uf  the  bivouac  fires,  ia  highly  exciting,  as 
much  to  ourselves  as  to  our  Bedouins,  who  remind  us 
of  Eed  Indians  and  their  savage  pastime.  Tliose  win* 
arc  not  engaged  in  singing,  aoconijiany  witli  their  hands. 
The  Khatih  himself,  their  chaplain-in-onlinary,  leads  the 
chorbtcrs  :  and  Mcydany  is  the  actor  with  the  sword,  at 
the  same  time  gatliering  up  the  skirt  of  his  gornx  with  his 
led  hand,  that  his  rapid  motions  may  meet  with  no 
impediment. 

This  performance  has  already  lasted  a  whole  hour, 
■when  our  nioukri,  Schariar,  takes  the  place  of  Jreydniiy, 
and  exhibits  his  artistic  skill.  Never  was  sabre  handled 
with  such  dexterity  ;  he  seems  surrounded  with  a  circle 
of  steel,  so  rapid  arc  tLe  rotations  of  his  blade  in  every 
direction.  Meydany  is  but  a  novice  when  compared  to 
Schartar.  Hut  the  "  Sword  Dance "  soon  finishes,  and 
our  moukri,  who  is  well  known  as  a  choice  spirit,  and 
the  most  accomplished  vocalist  of  ne\Tout,  volunteers  a 


202  SCHAEIAK   TUB    MOUKBl. 

succesdon  of  songs,  as  highly  flavoured  with  salt  as  the 
waters  of  the  Bead  Sea,  embellishing  the  words  with  most 
ezpressiTe  gestures.  The  enthusiasm  of  our  Bedouins 
exceeds  all  bounds ;  their  sunburnt  faces  gleam  with 
rapturous  admiration,  and  Schariar's  unrivalled  exhibition 
is  greeted  with  loud  bursts  of  applause. 

One  word  more  before  I  take  leave  of  Schariar.  On 
quitting  Jerusalem,  this  fellow  wept  in  utter  despair  ;  but 
ever  since  our  march  began,  he  has  become  the  gayest 
and  most  reckless  of  the  party.  How  constantly  we  make 
mistakes  in  judging  character !  Schariar,  who  voluntarily 
cut  ofl"  two  joints  from  his  ri^t  hand  to  escape  the 
conscription,  would  make  a  first-rate  soldier ;  for  he 
fears  nothing,  and  is  thoroughly  expert  in  the  use  of 
every  weapon.  But,  aa  I  said  before,  Schariar  is  an 
habitual  loimger  in  low  cafes  and  dens  of  ill-repute — 
what,  in  Parisian  cant,  is  called  a  tiveur — "  a  loose  fish." 
This  explains  the  riddle  of  his  conduct  which  we  attri- 
buted at  first  to  cowardice. 

As  we  cannot  pass  the  entire  night  in  looking  on  the 
revels  of  our  Bedouins,  we  bestow  an  additional  donation 
of  coffee  and  sugar,  which  infiames  their  joy  and  gratitude 
to  the  highest  pitch  of  enthusiasm ;  we  then  retire  to 
rest,  for  to-morrow  we  purpose  to  be  up  by  sunrise  to  viat 
the  ruins  of  Masada. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


AiouitorSebWi.  or  UmiiiJl — F»rtma  of  Kiii){  Honxi. — Tlis  SimrJi.  nr  AiBit«rti«. 
-^GlfMu-,— Kiat*  of  Vtmi/ln — Tli*  (turiwn  iiiimoKti'  lti>>iuiw1vM.—AMaaU 
lijr  lb*  Romaiu  nitdM'  Bih*^— Buiiu  of  Huada  u  %hey  ars  nt  prtmul. — 
Ootliic  ptomf. — DMMnl  fram  tb«  nitni. — l>n>vi>iu»  vidian.— OkpUlo 
Lynch'*  (MtT&ttv*. — Dlat7  nviiiiiod.^RBmuiu  of  RotnoD  Uium,— IndiodioiM 
of  •  Utnt. — Water  of  the  t)«ul  Sf*.  — Bnia  of  lara  and  cKtinut  voIctuiOMi. — 
Agrxable  racmuijunf  ul.— A  |[«'id  iiight'ii  rmt. 

JuHuarg  1  llA. 

This  moiiiing  we  were  all  stirring  before  tlaylight.  Tlio 
ascent  of  Masada,  judging  from  Uic  height  wc  had  to 
«Iimb,  promised  to  be  no  easy  task.  It  was,  therefore, 
desirable  to  start  before  the  sun  had  made  much  progress. 
We  have  hurried  Matteo's  cidinary  preparations,  and  after 
having,  as  uaiial,  sipped  some  broth  in  which  meat  was  the 
principal  ingredient  missing;  after  hairing  discussed  a 
cup  of  coffee,  a  chibouk,  and  a  taste  of  arrack,  we  fiud 
ourselves  en  route.  Our  faithful  Ahouad,  and  two 
Djahalios  almost  naked,  are  our  only  guides  and 
escort ;  we  are  well  furnished  with  loaded  pistols,  the 
priming  of  which  has  been  carefully  looked  to.  We 
thou  commence  the  arduous  c&colade  wo  must  achieve 
before  we  reach  the  eminence  we  are  so  anxious  to 
explore. 

I  slmll  not  attempt  to  describe,  after  Josephus,  tbe 
stupendous  path  that  lead.<i  to  Masada  ;  T  prefer  copying 
exactly  the  text   of  tiie  Jewish  annalist,  which  I  can 


iOi  ASCENT  OF  SEBBEH,   OK  MASADA. 

scarcely  hope  to  improve.  What  was  Masada,  and  what 
were  the  events  connected  with  that  place,  unparalleled  in 
the  history  of  the  world,  Josephus  tells  us  ;  I  shall,  there- 
fore, borrow  from  his  "  History  of  the  Jewish  War "  the 
entire  narrative  of  the  sad  catastrophe,  the  scene  of  which 
was  lud  in  Masada. 

I  beg  to  offer  one  more  observation  before  I  enter  on 
this  recital.  The  word  Masada  signifies  "  fortress  ; "  this 
is  the  Hebraic  meaning,  without  any  alteration.  Never 
has  any  spot  been  marked  by  a  more  appropriate  title. 
The  name  is  now  unknown  to  the  Bedouins,  and  was 
merely,  perhaps,  a  general  term,  quite  distinct  from  the 
real  appellation  of  the  locality.  What  inclines  me  to  this 
opinion  is,  the  correct  signiiication  of  the  word  Masada; 
and  the  existence  of  another  name,  Sebbeh,  retained 
by  the  Arabs,  and  which  it  is  not  likely  they  could 
have  invented  without  analogy.  After  the  sack  of 
Masada,  to  continue  calling  a  place  "  thy  fortress " 
par  e.vceUence,  .  which  Roman  tactics  had  reduced, 
would  have  been  a  downright  mockery ;  and  thus  I 
propose  tQ  account  for  the  disappearance  of  the  word 
Masada. 

Pliny*  speaks  of  this  town  as  being  a  fortress 
situated  on  the  summit  of  a  rocky  hill,  and  he  places 
it  quite  correctly  as  coming  next  to  Engaddi.  Stratm 
calls,  it  Moasada,t  and  mentions  the  calcined  stones 
wliich  .are  found  in  the  neighbourhood  of  this  singular 
spot. 

Let  us  now  proceed  with  our  quotation  from  Josephus : 
— "  The  high-priest  Jonathan,"  says  he,  "  was  the  first 

•  Lib.  V.  IT.  +  Lib.  ivi. 


£05 

niRn  who  conceived  tJio  idea  of  fortifyiug  this  post,  con- 
sidered impregnable,  and  who  gave  it  the  significunt  name 
of  Masada  (the  fortress).  At  a  later  period.  King  Herod 
added  considerably  to  the  fortiGcatioos,  and  increased 
their  atrengtli."  * 

In  another  very  striking  passage,  Josephus  expresses 
lunuclf  as  follows : — "  There  was,  not  far  from  Jonisalem. 
a  very  strong  citadel  built  by  the  ancient  kings;  where, 
when  they  happened  to  meet  with  reverses  in  war,  they 
placed  in  safety  their  treasures  and  their  pei'sons.  The 
Sicarii,  or  assassins," — (Josephus  gives  this  appellation  to 
those  among  the  Jews  who,  being  determined  not  to 
snbniit  to  a  foreign  yoke,  !iad  resolved  to  die,  to  the  last 
man,  in  carrying  on  a  despei-ate  resistance  against  the 
Romans.  In  our  days,  we  have  heard  French  citizens 
denounced  by  their  own  countrymen  as  fmqandii  of  the 
Loire,  who  quite  as  justly  deserved  that  Jiifaraoua  appel- 
lation as  the  last  defenders  of  Jewish  independence.  And 
it  is  a  Jew,  a  traitor  to  his  country,  who  brands  with  tho 
name  of  cut-throats  the  handful  of  heroes  who  took  refuge 
in  Masadft!  To  what  inconsistencies  will  human  passions 
lead  us  !  But  let  iis  cojiy  without  further  commentary) : 
— "Tbc  Sicarii,  then,  having  got  possession  of  Masada, 
made  continual  inroads  on  the  surrounding  country,  seek- 
ing for  no  other  plunder  than  wliat  they  absolutely  required 
for  subsistence:  fear  re-strained  them  from  commilting 
depredations  on  a  larger  scale.  Hearing,  however,  tliat 
the  invading  army  of  the  Ilomana  had  gone  into  quarters 
for  rest,  and  that  tho  Jews  of  Jerusalem  were  divided  by 
sedition,  and  drivea  to  despair  by  tho  most  oppressive 
tyranny,  they  8allie<l  out  by  night,  and  committed  tlie 


•  Rrl.  Jnd.  viL  vtt.L  t. 


206 


BIHOS   TilR   7.RAL0T. 


most  fearful  excesses.  On  the  daj  of  the  feast  of  the 
Aiymi  they  fcll  su'lLlcnly  upou  the  sroall  city  of  KngadtlL 
The  iuhobiUDts,  tAketi  by  BUrprise,  and  iiaviug  uo  tinio  to 
proparo  for  defence,  were  dispereeJ  and  drireD  out  of  the 
town.  All  who  could  not  escape  by  flight — men,  women, 
anil  children — nambcring  above  seven  hundred,  were  put 
to  the  sword.  After  having  pinndered  the  houses  and 
^  ravaged  tlie  gardens  fiill  of  ripe  fruit,  they  hastened  back 
witl)  their  booty  to  Tlfasada.  From  that  time  they  con- 
tiimod  to  waste  the  neighbouring  coimtry,  supplying  their 
ranks  daily  from  the  numerous  predatory  bands  who  had 
no  other  means  of  life.* 

"  Shortly  after  that,  Simon,  the  son  of  Joras,  who  for 
his  presumption  had  been  deposed  by  the  high-priest 
Ananas  from  the  government  of  Acrobata,  contrived  to 
escape  from  Jenisalcm,  which  was  then  placed  under  the 
tyranny  of  -John,  aiid  came  to  ask  for  an  asylum  with  the 
Sicarii  of  Masada.  Tiicy  at  flrst  suspected  him,  and 
confined  his  residence  to  the  lower  town,  where  he 
established  himself  with  the  wonien  who  liad  fuUowcd  him. 
while  the  Sicarii  remained  cvctusivc  masters  of  the  upper 
town.  Soon,  however,  the  zeal  that  Simon  displayed  in 
their  expeditions,  gained  him  their  confidence,  though 
they  still  rejected  the  advice  he  gave  them  to  strike 
more  decisive  blows.  This  Simon  succeeded  at  last  in 
forming  an  army  of  his  own  ;  and  then,  Beparating 
from  the  inhabitants  of  Jifasada,  began  committing 
the  most  atrocious  dcpi'cdatiomt  throughout  the  whole  of 
Judiea."  t  Solicited  by  the  people  to  come  to  Jcrtuidom, 
it  was  he  who  co-operated  the  most  strenuously  in  tJid 
defence    of  the  town  against   the  Bomaiis ;  but,  being 


"  li.l.iud.iv.  rfi.  ». 


t  Btl.  Jiul.  iT.  is.  s. 


RT.RAKAR. 

taken  prisoner,  Simon  was  tnuisported  to  Rome,  where 
be  figured  in  Uio  triumph  of  Titus.  The  last  act 
of  that  ceremony  was  the  execution  of  tlio  Jewish 
hero. 

"  Jenisalem  and  Macliieros  had  succesaively  fallen  ;  the 
Jews  retained  but  ono  stronghold,  MasaJa;  and  the 
Romans  determined  to  destroy,  at  any  cost,  this  focus  of 
insurrection. 

"  Battus,  Prefect  of  Jud.'ca.  having  died.  PlaviuB  Sil?» 
was  appointed  his  succcstsor.  His  first  thought  was  to 
march  against  JIasada.  The  place  was  then  commanded 
by  Eleazar,  of  the  tribe  of  Judah,  a  skilfiil  and  intrepid 
warrior,  who,  whoa  the  Censor  Quirimis  ha<I  been  sent 
into  Juda>a,  had  excited  a  general  rebellion.  The  Sicarii, 
by  tlie  order  of  Eleaz-ar,  denounced  as  enemies  all  their 
countrymen  who  had  submitted  to  the  iloman  yoke — 
plundered  their  possessions,  and  bunied  their  liabitations. 
To  give  a  sanction  to .  these  lawless  acts,  they  pretended 
that  there  was  no  difference  Wtween  tlie  invading 
foreigners  and  the  degenerate  Jews,  who  had  betrayed 
their  coimtn,-,  and  had  voluntarily  become  the  vass-ils 
of  Rome.  But  tho  jilea  was  an  idle  pretence,"  adds 
Josephus,  "to  excuse  and  give  a  colour  to  their  own 
barbarism  and  cupidity."* 

Accordingly,  Bilva  determined  to  crush  irhat,  in  bis 
opinion,  was  but  the  last  nest  of  the  rebellion :  we 
gire  verbatim  from  Josephus  liis  narrative  of  this 
expedition  ; — 

"The  Boman  general,  at  the  head  of  his  army, 
marched  against  Elea/ar,  and  tho  banditti  who  faeld 
Masada.       Having  seized  the   surrounding   country,   ho 


•  BtLJiKt.  vU.«. 


eo8 


RtBOR   OP   HASAHA. 


catablished  gairUons  in  every  convenient  post,  encircTi 
the  fortress  with  a  wall,  S"  as  to  exit  off  all  means  of 
escape  from  the  bcsioged,  and  placed  detachments  to 
urate])  them  ufirron-ljr.  Silva  selected  for  hU  encamping 
ground  the  most  commanding  point  in  the  immediato 
vicinity  of  the  fortress ;  but,  ill  other  respects,  it  waa 
extremely  difGcult  for  him  in  such  a  position  to  provide 
himsoif  nvith  the  necessary  supplies.  Not  only  were  the 
ordinary  articles  of  iiid)siiitciicc  brought  from  a  great 
distance,  and  with  enormous,  difficulty,  by  the  Jen's  who 
had  undertaken  to  ftimiHli  provisions  for  the  army,  but 
oven  the  water  Imd  to  bo  conveyed  to  tlio  camp,  for 
no  spring  was  to  be  found  in  the  neighbourhood.  Having 
made  his  ]ire1iminary  disposition;;,  Sitva  began  the  siege 
with  gi-cat  skill  and  infinite  labour,  owiug  to  ihe  position 
of  tho  fortrcsfi,  of  which  the  following  is  an  accurato 
description. 

"  It  stands  on  a  very  elevated  rock,  the  drcumferenc© 
of  which  is  considrrabic,  surrounded  on  all  sides  by 
valleys  so  deep  that,  from  the  summit,  tlie  bottom  is 
scarcely  distingiiinKiblo.  This  rock  is  perpendiculai-,  and 
totally  inaccessible,  excepting  in  two  places,  where  the 
slope  is  difficult  of  approach.  There  is  one  road  to  it 
leading  from  the  Asphaltic  Lake  oii  the  eastern  side, 
and  another,  more  practicable,  coming  from  the  west- 
ward. The  first  is  called  the  Cofidrr  (or  Snake),  on 
account  of  its  narrow  breadth  and  numerous  windings, 
wliich  give  it  some  resemblance  to  a  serpent.  It  is,  in 
fact,  little  more  than  a  broken  ledge  on  the  side  of  the 
rocks  which  overhang  the  precipice,  often  turning  back 
igain,  and  scarcely  forming  a  connected  passage. 
Ascending  by  that  path,  you  must  walk  with  cautious 


I 
I 

I 
I 

I 


SIBQE   OF  MASADA. 


sn9 


^m  and  stealthy  p«cc  — a  single    false  stop   woulJ   leatl   to 

H  ctTtain  death  ;  for  the  rocks  are  nearly  vertical  above 

^M  and  below,  and  thoir  appearance  strikes  terror  into  Lbe 

^1  boldest  hearts.     Wheu  you  have  clambered  up  a  space 

^1  of  thirty  Htadia,  the  rest  of  the  ascent  is  perpendicnlar  ; 

but  the  rock  docs  not  end  in  on  acute  point,  and  the 

■  Riimmit  widens  to  an  esplanade.     The  high-priest  Joria- 

H  than  was  tlio  first  who  built  a  citadel  hero,  which  he 

^^called    Masada.      In    after  years,    King    Herod     added 

^Rnany    formidable    defences.      He  enclosed   tliu  summit 

within  a  wall  of  polished  stone,  having  a  ciraiit  of  eeven 

staiha,  twelve  cubits  in  height  and  el^ht  in    thickness. 

The  wall  was  ilankcd  by  tliirty-aovcn  towers,  fifty  cubits 

high.      These    towers    communicated     with     buildings 

i  resting  on  and  continued  along  the  line  of  the  interior 
wall  The  circle  of  the  esplanade  contained  a  soil  more 
productive  than  any  in  the  vicinity.  The  king  reserved 
thus  Hpace  for  purpa^e»  of  culture,  m  that,  if  provisions 
could  no  longer  be  obtained  from  the  exterior,  the 
garrison  of  the  fortress  might  still  he  saved  from  famine. 
I  "  Herod    built  also,    opjtosite    the    approach    on    the 

B  western  side,  a  palace  within  the  fortifications,  looking 
towards  the  north.      The    outer    walls  of  this  palace 
^ft  were  high  and  solid,  protected  at  the  angles  by  four 
^^  towers    of    fifty  cubits    in    height.      Within     it     were 
contained   many    spacious     apartments,    porticoes,    aud 
baths,  supported  by  columns  formed  from  a  single  block 
of  marble.    The  pavements  and  the  walls  of  the  chambers 
^ft  were  inlaid  with  moiialcs.     In  every  habitation,  on  the 
^m  flBplanade,  ai-ouud  the  paLxce,  and  before  the  walls,  large 
^  tanks  were  hollowed  in  tlie  rocks,  to  preserve  tlie  water 
as  abundantly  as  if  there  had  been  natural  springs  within 


VOL.  I. 


SIO 


SIBQR   Op   MASADA. 


the  place.  A  corercd  way,  imperceptible  without  the 
wnllK,  led  from  the  palace  to  the  most  commauding  part 
of  the  citadel.  The  open  paths  of  approach  were  atmost 
useless  to  an  enemy.  The  eastern  road,  as  we  hare 
already  cxplaiued.  was  by  its  nature  inaccessible  ;  and  a 
tower  placed  in  a  very  narrow  defile,  closed  the  avenue 
on  (he  western  side.  This  lower  wa*  distant  from  the 
citadel  a  thousand  cubits  ;  it  couM  not  be  ]>ns8cd  by,  and 
was  unassailable  by  force.  Thus  nature,  seconded  by 
human  ingcniuty.  combined  to  reuder  ihe  fortresR  secure 
against  every  possible  atUick. 

"  As  to  the  interior  resources,  their  abimdance  was 
creu  more  surprising  ;  com  was  heaped  up  in  nin^oizines. 
and  in  vast  quantity. .  These  secret  stores  contained  also 
amplo  provision  of  wine,  oil,  vegetable  secda,  and  dates, 
Elcazar  and  his  banditti,  when  they  obtained  possession 
of  the  fortress  by  stratagem,  found  all  these  provisions  lu 
as  good  a  state  as  if  they  had  just  been  placed  ther^ 
though  nearly  a  century  bad  elapsed  since  the  raagazinen 
were  first  formed  to  resist  the  Roman  invaders.  The 
Romans  themselves,  when  they  became  masters  of  the 
place,  found  in  it  the  remains  of  these  supplies,  which 
soemcd  quite  fresh.  This  extraordinary  preservation  of 
food  must  doubtless  be  attributed  to  the  pure  atmaiphcre, 
and  the  height  of  the  fortress,  which  protects  the  air 
against  the  deleterious  influence  of  the  phiina.  The 
citadel  contained,  besides,  a  sufHcicut  quantity  of  arms  to 
equip  ton  thousand  men,  with  stores  of  unwrought  iron, 
brass,  and  lead. 

"Such  precautions  had  not  been  tiiken  mtliout  im- 
portant motives.  It  is  said  that  Herod  had  caused  this 
citadel  to  bo  built,  as  a  refiige  against  the  double  danger 


SIBOB   or   MAAADA. 


211 


which  he  apprehended  :  in  the  fii'st  place,  he  dreaded  tliat 
the  Jewish  |)ec>plo  should  drive  him  from  the  throne,  to 
restore  tlie  descendants  of  thoir  ancient  kings ;  and 
secondly,  he  was  still  more  apprehensive  of  the  intrigtics 
of  the  Queen  of  Kgjpt.  Cleopatra,  wlio  took  very  little 
care  to  conceal  her  designs  :  for  slic  openly  urged  Anthony 
to  put  Herod  to  death,  and  transfer  the  kingdom  of  Judaia 
to  hci-seir 

"  Long  after  Herod,  induced  by  the  fears  we  have  men- 
tioned, had  constnicted  Masada.  the  capture  of  that  fortress 
was  the  last  feat  accomplished  by  the  Bomans  in  their  war 
against  the  Jews. 

"  As  soon  as  Silva  had  succeeded  in  completing  his  wall 
of  circumvention,  and  had  adopted  every  measure  that 
care  and  vigilance  could  suggest,  to  prevent  the  possibility 
of  escape  by  any  of  the  garrison,  ho  began  tlie  siege  at  the 
only  point  against  which  an  attack  could  be  directed. 
Beyond  the  tower  which  closed  the  western  path,  towanls 
the  palnce  and  the  summit  of  the  fortress,  there  was  a 
rocky  eminence  of  great  extent,  but  lower  Uian  Maaada  by 
three  hundred  cubits  ;  it  was  called  Leuke.  As  soon  as 
Silva  bad  reached  this  post,  he  began  to  construct  thereon 
an  earthen  mound.  By  tlie  persevering  labour  of  his 
soldiers,  he  raised  tlie  level  about  two  hundred  cubits  ; 
but  the  grotmd  was  not  yet  solid  enongh,  nor  was  the 
height  SHfiicicut  for  the  battering  engines.  Above  this 
mound,  ngain,  he  built  another  platform,  composed  of  huge 
rocks,  and  measuring  fifty  cubits  in  length  and  breadth. 
On  tliia  he  pLoced  liis  engines,  similar  to  those  used  by 
Vespasian  and  Titus  in  besieging  towns ;  and  lastly,  he 
erected  a  lower  sixty  cubits  high,  completely  cased  with 
iron,  from  tlic  top  of  which  the  Komans,  by  means  of  slings 

r9 


tn 


MKOB   OP   UABADA. 


an<l  cross-bowR,  drove  tlie  dcfenilers  from  tite  wall^  and 
Buffered  not  a  man  to  show  his  bead. 

"  Silra,  Iiainng  at  the  same  time  erected  an  enormous 
battering-ram,  assailed  the  wall  wit]iout  intermission,  and 
Buccccded    in   tlirowiug   down  a    considerable    portion. 
Meanwhile  the  garrison  laboured  hard  to  raise  as  fast  as 
possible  an  interim'  rampart,  which  might  not,  like  tJie 
outer  one,  be  damagud  hy  the  action  of  the  engines.     To 
render  this  second  wall  soft,  so  as  to  deaden  the  violence  of 
the  blows,  it  was  constructed  in  the  following  roaimor :  long 
beams  were  placed  end  to  end  :  two  parallel  rows  of  these 
beams  were  separated  hy  the  intended  tliinknesa  of  the 
wall.     The  interval  between  was  filled  with  earth  ;  and,  to 
prevent  the  earth  from  bursting  out,  cross-beams  were 
added  to  strengtlien  those  which  were  connected  length- 
wise.    The  construction  of  this  rampai-t  resembled  a  solid 
edifice;  whilst  the  blows  of  the  engines,  falling  on  a  yielding 
surface,  lost  their  power ;  and  the  repeated  stiocks  helped 
to  combine  the  materials  more  strongly  together,  and  gavo 
additional  compactness  to  the  entire  fabric.      When  Silva 
discovered  this,  he  commanded  his  sotdiem  to  hurl  against 
this  new  obstacle  a  quantity  of  lighted  brands.     The  wall, 
almost  entirely  made  of  wood,  caught  fire  immediately, 
and,  burning  from  one  end  to  the  other,  projected  a  tre- 
mendous flame.    "At  first  tlio  wind,  blowing  from  the  north 
carried  the  llainc  dii'cctlj  towards  the  position   of  the 
besiegers,  and  threatened  the  destruction  of  their  own 
engines.     But,  suddenly  shilling  round  to  die  south,  as  if 
by  Divine  interference,  the  flames  were  hnrled  back  again, 
and  consumed  the  rampart  of  the  bc^eged  from  top  to 
liottom.     The   Romans,  thus  favoured  by  Providence,  ro- 
uiainod  at  their  post,  with  the  fixed  intention  Of  advaudng 


SilZat  OK   MASADA. 


213 


to  the  assault  oit  the  next  morning.  During  Die  uight 
ihtiy  iucreasotl  their  usual  vigilance  to  prevent  the  escape 
of  a  single  iniiivichial  nf  the  garrison. 

"  K!ea:!ar  had  iiu  idea  uf  flight  himself,  and  ho  was  fully 
detcrniiiied  to  allow  no  such  refuge  to  his  followers.  Re- 
duced to  despair  by  seeing  his  la-stintrenchmentdesti-oyed; 
reflecting,  also,  on  tlio  cruel  treatiucut  rescn-cd  hy  the 
Koinan  conquerors  for  the  women  and  children,  he  resolved 
to  die,  with  all  Ilia  people,  as  the  host  alternative  rcniiiining 
in  their  choice.  He  asscmhicd  all  the  bravest  Bpiiits  in 
the  garrison,  and  implored  them  to  adopt  this  dreadful 
resolution  ;  he  pointed  out  tlie  conijoquences  of  a  capitula- 
tion, the  abject  misery  of  bondage.  '  With  to-morrow's 
dawn.'  said  he,  '  you  are  lost  men,  and  will  no  longer 
possess  the  privilege  of  dying  with  those  dearest  to  you. 
The  enemy,  who  lias  no  hope  but  that  of  taking  you  alive, 
is  not  all-powerful  enough  to  prevent  your  escaping  by 
Toluntarj-  death.  You  cannot  resist  him  ;  you  know  that 
God  himself  hax  declared  against  us,  and  abandoned  the 
JewUh  nation,  which  ho  lias  ci-ased  to  love.  Had  we  not 
been  accursed  and  condemned,  do  you  think  he  would 
have  |)ennitted  tlie  destruction  of  the  Holy  City  t  We, 
the  htst  of  our  race,  are  crushed  under  his  anger.  This 
impregiinble  fortress,  what  protection  has  it  aflbrded  us  t 
These  warUke  stores,  these  arms— what  have  we  been  able 
to  achieve  with  them  ?  Nothing,  The  flame  which 
threatened  our  enemies  liaa  turned  back  upon  ourselves  ; 
is  it  not  the  vengeance  of  Heaven  that  has  vanquished  us? 
If  wo  Imvo  guilt  to  expiate,  let  not  the  Uoman.s  have  the 
satisfaction  of  being  tlie  instrimients  of  Divine  wrath  ;  let 
us  become  ourselves  the  instruments.  Our  wives  will 
escape  outJ-agc  ;   our  children  will  avoid  servitude  ;    af\er 


214 


TBX  9Ant9P¥  UOMLATt  TDKlUKLTm. 


tn  hare  iSkd  Utem,  )k  «  kill  emA  other ;  we  shall  ihns 
proacTO  oar  Ubertr  ui<j  wis  a  gkrioos  sqiutture.  Let  us 
firal  deetror  uur  titasorcs  and  tlie  fixtres,  to  defeat  the 
cupidity  of  these  Booans.  Let  m  kare  them  nothing  but 
the  ]>rovtsioDS,  to  show  that  we  hare  Dot  ridded  to  famine, 
but  have  preferred  death  to  stavenr.  M 

"Stich  were  the  words  of  Bleanr;  and  those  who 
listcucd  were  oot  all  indioed  to  follow  his  propusaL 
Some  prepared  to  adopt,  without  beatatii^  a  resolution 
so  heroic.  Those  who  wavered,  wxe  raored  by  pity  for  ■ 
their  wires  and  children,  and,  seeing  their  death  so  near, 
looked  on  each  other  with  teaHul  eves,  and  showed,  by 
their  expressive  sjlencc,  tbat  tbey  rejected  the  advice  of 
their  coinmander.  Eleazar,  obaernng  this,  began  to  fear 
that  even  those  who  bad  applauded  his  speech,  mi^t 
allow  themselves  to  be  softened  by  the  supplications  add 
tears  of  the  more  timid.  He  therefore  repeated  lus 
exhortations  with  increasing  energy'.  He  spoke  of  a 
glorious  immortality,  ajid  lixod  his  eyea  in  stern  reproof 
on  those  who  wept  and  trembled. 

"  By  this  second  apjieal  ho  succeeded  in  inflaming  them 
to  such  cutliusiastu,"  (if  we  are  to  believe  Juscphus,) 
"  that  all,  witliout  exception,  interrupted  him  with  loud 
exclanmtioiuj  uf  Jknatic  frenzy,  seeming  to  bo  instigated 
by  demoniac  excitement,  and  hurried  to  the  fearful 
sacrifice,  as  if  each  dreaded  to  be  anticipated  by  his 
companions.  They  were  seen  to  embrace  their  wives  and 
children  with  convulsive  tenderness,  and  the  next  moment 
to  stab  them  with  uiisbriukiug  hands.  Thero  was  no 
hesitation,  no  exception.  The  honible  necessity  to  which 
tliey  were  impelled,  was  felt  to  be  a  release  from  greater 
miseries. 


I 
I 


ASSAULT  BT  THE   ROMASS. 


215 


"This  scene  ofcarnagu  finished,  tliB  perpetrators,  over- 
whelmed with  horror,  and  longing  to  rejoin  in  death  tho 
victims  they  Iiatl  elaughtered,  heaped  up  thoir  riches  in 
an  enormous  pile,  which  they  couimnicd  by  fire.  Ten 
were  chosen  by  lot  to  kill  tho  rest,  who,  taking  in  tlioir 
arms  tJie  lifeless  bodies  of  their  wives  and  childreD* 
prusentod  their  throats  to  the  selected  executioners.  The 
ten  achieved  their  task  without  Sinching :  and  then  a 
second  lot  decided  that  one  of  their  own  number  slioidd 
slay  his  nine  companions,  and  lastly  immulatu  himself. 
The  solitary  survivor  examined  all  the  bodies  stretched 
around  him,  and,  when  convinced  that  none  required  his 
further  ministry,  he  tired  the  palace,  and  fell  on  his  own 
sword. 

"Al!  perished  with  the  conviction  that  not  a  single 
living  being  remained  to  grace  the  triumph  of  tho 
Romaus.  But  they  deecivod  themselves.  An  aged 
woman,  with  one  of  Eleazar's  female  R'lativcs  (distin- 
guished by  her  knowledge  and  wisdom),  and  five  children, 
contrived  to  raiiccal  themselves  in  a  subterranean 
aqueduct,  where  they  were  unthought  of,  and  unsought 
for,  in  tiie  hurry  and  agony  of  the  moment.  Tho 
assassins  of  Maxada  perished  thus,  to  the  number  of  nine 
hundred  and  sixty,  including  women  and  children. 
This  happened  on  the  fifteenth  of  the  month  of 
Xnntichus. 

"  At  dawn  of  day  the  Romans,  prepared  for  a  deadly 
conflict,  issued  from  their  intrcnchmcnts,  planted  their 
scaling-ladders,  and  rushed  to  the  assault.  They  en- 
countered not  a  singlo  opponent.  Nothing  but  solitude, 
silence,  and  devouring  flames  in  every  direction.  They 
were  still  far  from  suspecting  whiit  had  happened,  and 


2I« 


Jli»A(fl.T   BY   THB   BUHAKS. 


witli  one  Toice  sent  up  a  luiglity  shout,  to  unmask,  if 
possible,  tlicir  hidtloti  enemies.  The  terrified  women 
crawled  from  their  concealment,  and  tlie  kinswoman  of 
Kleazar  related  wliat  had  happened,  with  all  its  horrible 
details.  At  first,  the  llomans  vrere  incredulous,  and 
refused  belief  to  such  an  act  of  devoted  patriotism,  and 
having  extinguished  the  fire,  penetrated  iuto  the  ])alace, 
where  tliey  discovered  the  long  fdes  of  human  bodies. 
They  did  not  give  vent  to  the  joy  of  a  victory  obtained 
in  the  ardour  of  battle.  The  pride  of  conquest  waa 
checked  by  admiration  of  the  heroic  deed  they  could  no 
longer  doubt ;  and  they  respected  the  sublime  contempt 
for  death  by  which  so  many  noble-minded  vrarriora  had 
immortalised  their  fame  for  eyer." 

Such  was  the  fate  of  men  recorded  by  Josepbus  under 
the  title  of  assassins.  The  annals  of  the  world  afford  but 
few  parallels. 

For  many  years  I  had  lost  sight  of  the  history  of  tlio 
Jewish  war  ;  my  studies  ha<i  never  led  me  back  in  that 
direction.  I  therefore  visited  Masada  without  any 
particular  rcmitiisconcc.  Besi<les:,  the  name  "  Sebbeli," 
the  only  one  which  I  heard  pronounced  by  tljo  Arabs* 
was  not  likely  to  refresh  my  memory  ;  and  I  confess,  in 
all  humility,  that  even  tf  I  had  been  aware  that  I  was 
treading  the  soil  of  Mnsadit,  unprovidDd  witb  books  as  I 
was  in  our  adventurous  expedition,  it  woidd  havo  boon 
quite  impoKiiblo  for  me  to  recal  the  evontjj  which  had 
given  to  this  place  such  pre-eminent  celebrity.  Perhaps 
tliis  may  serve  as  a  hint  to  future  travellers,  and  if  they 
do  not  prefer  depriving  themselves  of  the  most  e.xciting 
gratification,  let  them  come  prepared  by  previous  reading 
before  they  enter  on  an  exploring  exj)edition.    I  shall 


H 


ASCBMT   TO   THR   Kl'INS. 


Sir 


nercr  ooosc  to  lament  tliQ  unlucky  ignorance  which 
induced  me  to  shorten  oni'  halt  at  Sebb«h,  notwith- 
standing the  impossibility  of  procuring  water.  If  ever 
chuucu  conducts  me  to  the  spot  again,  I  shall  not  do  as  [ 
have  done  this  tunc,  but,  at  whatever  cost,  I  will  bring 
back  from  Masada  all  that  I  can  collect  together  in  the 
shape  of  plans  and  drawings. 

Now  that  I  have  digressed  to  the  expedition  of  Flavius 
Silva.  let  me  revert  to  the  more  pacific  enterprise  of  which 
I  happened  to  be  myself  the  leader.  Leaving  our 
encampment  in  our  roar,  we  direct  our  course  towards  the 
right  bank  of  the  large  chasm  which  divides  us  from 
the  mountain  of  Sehheh.  The  ascent  is  steep,  and  the 
rocky  fragments  roll  under  our  feet ;  but,  CYcrytluug 
considered,  we  have  seen  worse  roads  before.  After 
some  minutes'  progress,  the  path  becomes  more  difficult, 
and  goats  alone  might  be  content  with  U,  supposing  tliey 
wore  not  ovcr-dilltcult  to  please.  There  can  be  no  doubt 
we  are  moving  on  the  perilous  ledge  called  by  Joscphus 
"the  i^n.ike  ;"  but  1  avoucli,  and  my  companions  will 
scarcely  gainsay  mc,  tliat  the  histuiiau  of  the  Jews  has 
described  it  in  too  flattering  colours.  It  is  one  continiud 
scaling-laiider,  several  hundred  feet  m  pcrpenditiular 
height,  which  increase  when  we  ttiink  they  are  exhausted. 
If  you  venture  a  glance  to  the  left,  while  on  this  pic- 
turesque ascent,  beware  of  the  vertigo,  and  a  bottumlcaa 
abyas  wliich  tlireatens  you  with  a  kind  of  fatal  fascination. 
We  determine,  therefore,  to  look  only  to  the  right  as  we 
go  up  ;  going  down  we  shall  have  tlio  variety  of  looking 
to  the  lefl,  which  will  he  some  consolatioiL  Loysel 
soon  finds  this  kind  of  promenade  rather  unpleasant ; 
he  therefore  sits  down  quietly  on  a  rocky  point,  lights 


SIS 


AdCCST   TU   TBB   RHUffl. 


fats  pipe,  and  enters  in  his  note-book,  *^  January  llM. — 
Eratrsion  to  Sfi&ei."  Papignr  joins  hini.  and  it  is  only 
a  few  liumlred  feet  higher  up,  when  we  rentore  to  cast  a 
k>ok  behind  us,  that  «e  bocome  aware  that  two  of  tho 
troop  have  parted  company,  without  even  wishing  as  bou 
voyage. 

Edward,  Bclljr,  Hothsduld,  and  Philippe  arc  tho  ouly 
members  of  our  baud  who  have  perecverud,  and  we  follow, 
panting  and  out  of  breath,  our  three  Beilotiins  who  seem 
to  be  treading  a  royal  high-road.  Pride  will  not  permit 
us  to  yield  to  difficulties  which  seem  trifles  to  these  iron 
savages  of  tho  desert,  and  we  rush  recklessly  forward.  At 
lam  we  reach  a  pintform  pre-umiucutly  rugged  and  narrow 
at  lirst,  rent  by  a  chasm  beariug  away  to  the  north-west. 
But  the  area  soon  becomes  wider,  and  we  find  ounwlves 
uucircted  by  fragmeuts  of  walk,  and  heaps  of  utlicr  i-uina, 
unquestionable  evidences  of  ancient  habitations. 

To  our  left  tlie  crest  of  the  precipice  is  protected  by  a 
wall  of  dry  stones,  heaped  up  without  order,  and  this  wall 
di])s  rapidly,  witli  the  rock  that  bears  it,  to  the  bottom  of 
the  cliasm,  on  the  northern  side  of  which  we  have  lelt  our 
camp.  There  is  no  mislukiiig  the  locality ;  it  is  tho  sjiot 
which  Josephus  calls  Lcuk&  To  otir  left  begins  t/ie  Snake, 
the  path  wu  have  just  followed,  leading  down  to  the  Dead 
sciL  Behind  us  must  be  the  western  path,  with  the  tower 
which  intersected  it,  as  boih  roads  met  at  this  point.  Un- 
furtunalely  our  time  is  limited,  aud  the  remains  of  Silva's 
camp  (placed  on  this  very  spot,  and  on  tlie  ruins  of  the 
lower  town,  where  Simon,  the  sou  of  Joras,  resided),  cou- 
ceal  from  our  sight  the  vestiges  of  this  t*)wer,  situated 
most  likely  much  further  down,  as  well  as  tlic  path  itself, 
whicli  we  liave  no  intention  of  investigating. 


RUIIfS  OP    HAS 


tio 


Whea  Eidng  eastward,  wc  have  beforo  ua  the  porpeii- 
dicukr  rock  of  Masada,  two  hundred  feet  iu  height^  od 
the  smoothly  8cari)cd  side  of  which  appear  a  few  excava- 
tious,  resciiibliDg  those  of  a  necropolis,  aud  placed  abuuC 
fifty  feet  below  the  summit,  without  any  protuberant  stones 
or  steps  by  which  we  might  be  enabled  to  reach  them. 
There  could  have  been  no  across  but  by  subterraneous 
passages  from  the  interior  of  the  fortress. 

A  ridge,  as  narrow  as  the  blade  of  a  knife,  leads  along 
tho  top  of  an  artiticiaJ  causeway,  made  of  light  earth. 
This  causeway,  uniting  LeuktS  to  tlie  side  of  tho  rode  of 
Masada.  is  all  that  remains  of  Silva's  mound.  The  plat- 
form by  wliich  it  vi!\s  tjurmouutod  ttos  crumbled  down  by 
die  action  of  time  and  the  rains  on  the  soft  suil  which 
formed  the  foundations.  The  stones  have  all  rolled  over 
into  the  precipices  ou  either  side,  aud  there  rcmauis  uuw 
no  passage  hut  this  dangerous  ridge  before  us,  which  we 
must  adventure  on  like  rope-dancers,  without  even  the 
advantage  of  a  balancing-pole. 

In  a  few  seconds  we  have  crossed  the  abyss,  and  here 
we  are,  hanging  on  to  the  side  of  the  rock  of  llasada. 
Another  desperate  escalade  is  beforo  us,  and  fifty  feet 
higher  up  wc  reach  the  remains  of  a  Ihght  of  stairs,  on  the 
side  of  the  precipice,  aud  ou  the  ruins  of  a  buttress,  built 
of  fine  freestone. 

At  buft  we  gain  the  .summit,  and  a  small  remniuit  of 
a  ]Mitli,  unclosed  between  the  precipice  on  one  side  aud  tho 
ruins  of  a  freestone  wall  on  tho  other,  leads  us  to  a  well* 
preserved  gate  of  beautiful  workmauship,  with  an  ogivaj 
(pointed)  arch.  The  invention  of  thi»  foim  of  ai-ch  Is  thus 
carried  back  to  the  epoch  of  llcrod  the  Great,  or  at  tlio 
very  latest,  to  tluit  of  Titiis  and  tho  destruction  of  Masada. 


fx« 


BtTI<r8  or  MASAOA. 


Oo  the  stones  of  this  gate  hare^ieeii  sctstcbed.  with  some 
sharp  instnmieBt,  at  a  period  impowUe   to  dutenutoe, 


•ATWAT  At  aftuna. 


eroBses,  signs  rcsomUing  the  symbol  of  the  planet  Venus 
9 .  and  Greek  letters,  such  as  A  and  T-  Are  tlieeie  the 
marlu  of  the  titoiie-cutter  ?  I  doubt  it ;  becHusc,  though 
rudely  executed,  they  have  uot  a  very  ancient  appe.ir»nce, 
and  their  light  colour  is  not  accordant  with  the  darker 
tint  of  the  stone.  But  as  Home  are  upri^bt  whilst  others 
are  inclined,  and  cren  reversed,  this  may  seem  to  cor- 
roborate the  opinion  tliat  they  are  merely  to  be  considered 
ax  the  symbols  of  the  builders.  For  myselC  I  leave  the 
(]tiei<tion  to  the  decision  of  others. 

Beyond  this  gal«,  a  level  apace  appears  before  us :  it 
is  tlio  platform  of  Masada.  Thank  Heaven  I  vre  have 
reached  it  with  sound  linihs,  and  as  wo  have  not  halted 
on  tlie  way,  fifty  minutes  have  sufficed  to  bring  us  from  the 
camp  to  the  spot  on  which  we  stand. 

The  crest  we  have  attained,  I  mean  the  western  one, 
is  furnished  with  buildings  looking  towards  the  platform, 
and  resting  agjuiist  the  surrounding  wall.     These  struc- 


RUINS   OF   UARAPA. 

turCK  are  mostly  square  cells,  in  tolerable  preservation; 
wiUi  many  small  apertures,  disposed'  angularly,  like  the 
holes  in  a  piftcon-hoiisc  Before  us,  -witliin  a  limidrc<i 
yanis,  is  a  ruin,  Avhich  resembles  a  church  with  a  cir- 
cular apsis.  Our  l^douins  inform  me  tliat  this  is  the 
Qasr,  or  Palace.  I  hasten  to  examine  it.  Tlio  principal 
chamber  is  tcrniii)atcd  hy  this  ovcti-likc  apsis,  with  one 
small  round  window.  The  whole  is  constructed  of  fine 
freestone,  elaborately  worked  ;  die  supporting  walla  are 
covered  with  a  very  hard  plaster,  inlaid  with  mosaic 
-work  of  a  novel  description.*  It  consists  of  thousands 
of  small  red  fmgmeuta  of  broken  pottery  fixed  in  the 
mortar,  and  forming  regular  designs.  These  are  the  only 
ornaments  of  this  hall.  Some  small  detached  cubes  of  red, 
white,  and  black  stone  induce  me  to  suppose  tliat  the  hall 
is  paved  with  real  mosaic ;  I  therefore  tempt  my 
Bedouins  with  the  promise  of  a  bakhshish,  and  wliilst  I 
am  drawing  the  plans  of  the  different  apartments,  and  Belly 
is  engaged  in  taking  a  sketch  of  this  extraordinary  ruin, 
the  nihbisii  is  cleared  from  the  floor,  and  a  hamJsomo 
mosaic  pavement,  disposed  in  circular  knots,  is  brought 
once  more  to  light.  Unfortunately  all  is  broken  in  pieces; 
I  feel,  therefore,  no  scruple  in  carrying  away  some  speci- 
mens. We  also  take  designs  of  several  fragments  of 
moulding  in  white  marble,  and  pick  up  samples  of  the  pieces 
of  red  pottery  and  gbss  nith  which  the  ground  is  covered- 
No  time  is  lost  by  any  of  us  ;  Kdward  makes  a  survey  of 


*  ThkUnd  or  monlcUiwaa  nsBrlfcrcrywhetvin  outem  oouatnci,— I  nuuin 
in  the  Urg«  Bitif, — Mtd  i*  of  ver;  knciciit  um.  Oalj,  iunUBii  of  broken  poltorj', 
tha  momue  work  i*  geiirnilly  miija  vf  pl«cw  t>r  laohlng-gliun,  «r  of  aoiili*!]  rmil 
chin*  TtMcIi,  quit*  wIk>1o.  of  kU  kIiik  and  deMiijitiriDC,  finnlj  Muck  into  tlis 

vail;  for  iiutanoc,  in  tha   ShetiKar  CJiina  MuAiUt  of  lh«  oa^r**  «f  India 

Tiustunk. 


S2S 


nmys  or  uasada. 


the  gate  at  t]ie  entrance,  whilst  Bellv  and  I  arc  woHciiig 
at  our  plans. 

When  our  aketches  are  finished,  we  explore  the  entire 
pjaifomi.  Starting  from  tlw  Qn«r,  which  standu  cxactlj 
east  of  the  original  entrance,  and  moriDg  in  n  northerly 
direction,  we  find  a  targo  rectangular  cifttem,  containing  of 
course  no  water,  and  entirely  overgrown  with  thorns.  Fur- 
ther on,  to  the  north-east  of  the  Qasr.  is  a  quadrangular 
encloHuro,  of  much  more  ancient  style  than  the  Qasr  and 
the  other  buildings.  A  wide  deep  ditch  divides  it  from 
(he  remainder  of  the  platforra.  and  begins  from  the  left 
flank  of  a  square  mined  tower,  which  commands  tlio  entire 
ground,  and  is  situatc<l  abont  the  middle  of  the  face  oppo- 
site the  palace.  We  ascend  this  tower,  and  obtain  a  full 
view  of  the  interior  of  the  oldest  portion  of  the  fortress  ; 
marked,  in  the  direction  from  south  to  north,  by  continuous 
lines  and  heaps  of  larjje,  bl.ick,  irregular  stones,  remains  of 
buildings  that  have  crurublerl  down  where  they  were 
erected.  I  have  no  doubt  that  this  enclosure  constituted 
the  original  Masada  built  by  Jonattum,  according  to 
JosepIniB.  All  the  remainder  is  the  work  of  Herod  the  Groat. 

Some  of  the  walls  are  built  with  large  cot  stonect, 
fastened  together  by  smaller  ones,  instead  of  mortar. 
The  same  style  of  building  is  to  be  found  in  the  cisterns 
of  Jerufialem  and  E!-Bireh.  Looking  towards  the  east.  I 
mean  in  the  direction  of  the  Dead  Sea,  there  are  no  traces 
of  defences  as  solid  and  as  carefully  constructed  as  those 
which  protect  the  platform  of  lje«k€.  The  reason  is 
obvious  :  tlierc  was  no  dread  of  attack  on  this  aide,  where 
notliing  but  birds  could  ascend  by  tlie  direct  way.  Ncver- 
tliuloss,  a  circle  of  ruined  walls  entirely  surrounds  the 
crest  of  the  platform  of  Masada. 


BBMAINS  OP   nOMAN   UNES. 


2  S3 


From  the  brink  on  wliirh  we  arc  statuUng  we  can  dis- 
cover very  plainly,  and  judge  the  surprising  state  of  pro. 
servfttion,  of  the  besipginjt  works  constructed  under  the 
orders  of  Silva.  Nothing  ia  easier  than  to  describe  thp 
entire  plan.  F'our  square  redoubts  command — one  the 
chasm  on  the  loft,  and  tlio  tiirco  others  the  Onad-el-IIafaf 
{rallcy  of  the  ruins).  Beginning  from  these  poets,  which 
are  connected  by  a  curtain  made  of  stoncK  aiid  pebbles, 
two  other  reirenchments,  of  the  same  consti'uction,  enclose 
the  rock  of  Ma-sada,  as  it  were,  between  the  branches  of  a 
pair  of  tongs.  Tliesc  lines  of  circimiTaUation  are  of  great 
extent,  takiug  in  without  interval  the  left  flank  of  the 
mountain  of  Sebbeh,  as  well  as  that  of  the  lofty  eminence 
op|Kisitc  Maaada.  on  the  oUior  side  of  the  Ouad-cl-IIafaf. 
The  last  line  in  all  prohabihty  tei-niinated  at  the  catnp  of 
Silva,  as  I  have  verified  the  fact  with  regard  to  the  lire  on 
the  left. 

The  platform  contains  no  other  striicturoa  beyond  Uioso 
wc  have  mentioned — m.  towards  the  uortliern  point,  tlie 
palace,  and  a  cistern  ;  and  towards  the  soutli,  anottior 
cistern  and  a  mass  of  ruins,  belonging  perhapa  to  a  barrack. 
On  tJio  souUicrn  side  of  the  rock  arc  a  well  and  a  vault, 
lined  throughout  with  a  hard  and  smooth  cement.  To 
reach  this  vault  a  serious  danger  must  be  encountered,  as 
you  arc  hterally  suspended  over  the  Ouad-cl-Hafaf,  which 
is  more  than  twelve  hundred  feet  below,  and  the  only 
entrance  is  by  a  few  stejis  ahnoHt  impracticable.  It  would 
be  diffiailt  not  to  identify  it  In  this  vault  we  readily 
recognise  one  of  the  subterranean  magazines  in  which  the 
provisions  had  been  acciunulatcd,  which  could  be  preserved 
in  Masada  for  centuries  without  spoiling.  On  our  way  we 
another  reservoir,  or  rather  a  well ;  then  returning 


v>  tLe  aoniKTB  &fe,  -"iierv  ibe  «.iraaot  rait  b  aanise'L 
•wi  taT«  aerrjCDi^sbei  iii  iff^rviilT  u>f  cxczv  gjca^  ^  ike 
f&rtre«L     Bet  le^r-'J  'i'J  I  re-zr^i^  ■I'a'  littrne>j  exitsuncioB 

with  ll'aJa.^a 

We  had  ^pent  more  iLan  nro  hoar;  on  ibe  pladonL 
Oar  Arabs  vere  impaiiect  to  reram  to  camp,  scnM^jr 
urging  the  necessitT  of  shifting  our  qoan^s  to  a  sftH 
vhere  men  and  beasts  might  be  ^applied  vith  iraier.  Tlus 
argument  backed  b_v  the  intense  heat,  prerailed  orer  oar 
euthusiastic  love  of  ruins.  We  prepared  to  racoonter  tlie 
descent,  and  it  was  oiiIt  in  retracing  our  steps  br  the 
same  road  that  ire  were  able  to  estimate  the  fiiU  dangeis 
of  an  excursion  to  Masada. 

On  passing  the  narrow  rarine  which  opens  on  Lenke, 
the  youngest  of  our  Djahalins  fortunately  entered  to  seardi 
for  water  in  some  crevice  between  the  rocks  ;  suddenly  be 
Bcnt  forth  the  joyous  shout  fih  maieh  .' — {there  is  wat^  I) 
and  all  rush  madiy  towards  him.  One  must  have  endured 
tliintt  in  ttucli  a  country  to  conceire  the  delight  with  which 
wo  plunged  our  heads  into  this  dirty  reservoir,  to  quaff  as 
rriiich  as  we  could  gorge.  Frenchmen  and  Bedouins,  lying 
at  full  Icrif^tli  round  the  stagnant  pool,  drank  to  repletion, 
iinTnefftitig  their  heads  and  arms  without  caring  in  the 
least  how  they  might  annoy  their  neighbours.  Our  i^ected 
cxquimtcfl  should  try  a  short  experiment  of  life  in  the 
desert  to  cure  them  of  delicate  refinements.  Invigorated 
by  this  unexpected  refreshment,  we  resumed  our  march 
with  frosh  energy ;  and  by  half-past  ten  o'clock  we  returned 
to  camp,  or  rather  to  the  place  where  our  camp  had  been,' 
for  the  tents  were  struck,  and  all  our  baggage  had  gone 


FORAO[NO   IS   THE   DRSP.RT. 


225 


[on  ID  advance,  to  spare  our  beasts  of  burthen,  and  reach 
AS  soon  as  pa^gible  the  fresh  spring  of  water,  promised  for 
this  evetiiug's  halting  ground. 

Matteo  had  long  prepared  our  bi-cakfast,  to  which  it 
may  be  supposed  we  did  fiill  credit.  Our  infantry  had 
marched  with  the  luggage  ;  our  Scheikfis  and  horaemen 
were  sitting  composedly  in  a  circle,  and  chatting,  under  a 
burning  sun,  with  their  horses  tied  close  by  to  the  poles  of 
their  lancca.  Hamdan  had  returned,  during  our  absence, 
from  the  excursion  he  had  undertaken  to  the  mountains, 
with  the  object  of  procuring  a  couple  of  sheep.  The  worthy 
Tenders  had  asked  him  a  hundreil  piastres  for  each.  As 
he  was  not  the  man  to  adopt  expedient  measures  on  pre- 
posterous terms,  he  preferred  returning  without  his  errand, 
rather  than  submitting  to  see  us  imposed  upon.  No  doubt 
he  had  reason  on  his  side,  but  it  is  not  always  convenient 
to  be  reasonable  in  the  desert,  and  to  haggle  in  a  bargain, 
when  you  are  in  want  of  provisions,  which  you  hunt  after 
for  two  whole  days  without  the  certainty  of  finding  them. 
I^owever,  we  had  to  submit  to  our  disiippointmcnt.  and 
thanked  the  Scheikh  of  the  Thiameras  for  his  economical 
consideration  of  our  finances. 

On  our  arrival,  Abou-Daouk,  after  the  usual  salutations 
and  compliments,  advised  us  to  get  on  expeditiously  with 
our  breakfast,  tliat  wc  might  reach  our  encamping  ground 
before  dark.  We  require  no  additional  hint,  and  swal- 
lowing our  viands  in  double-quick  time,  are  soon  ready  to 
mount.  I  freely  acknowledge  my  delight  at  finding 
myself  once  more  in  the  saddle.  What  at  any  other 
time  would  have  been  fatigue,  after  the  march  to  Masadft 
appeared  like  voluptuous  repose. 

One  word    more    about  Masada   before  resuming  our 


228 


PUBVIOUB   VIStTOttS. 


itinorarj-.  The  ruins—tho  celebrity  of  which  I  think  1 
liave  clearly  demonstrated — have  Iteen  rery  seldom  viiitted 
by  KuropeaiuL  Messrs.  Ilobinsoii  and  Smith,  tho  lirst 
who  instinctively  identified  Sebbeh  with  Masada,  only 
looked  on  that  locality  from  the  heights  of  Ayu-Djcdy ; 
Unit  is  to  say,  they  contemplated  from  a  distance  of 
sereral  leagues,  tlie  profile  of  the  mountain  upon  which 
Masada  once  stood.  Trusting  to  the  dotaiU  derived 
fi-onj  the  Arabs  thoy  had  an  opportunity  of  consulting, 
irith  admirable  perspicacity  they  itave  given  a  dosurip- 
tJon  as  clear  as  if  it  had  been  founded  on  personal 
investigation.  Their  account  bears  date  Friday,  tlie  lltb 
of  May.  1H3S. 

Four  years  later,  fi-om  the  12th  to  the  15th  of  March, 
1842,  Messrs.  Wolcott  (an  American  missionary)  tatd 
Tipping  (an  English  painter),  were  the  first  to  scale  the 
ascent  of  Masada,  aiid  to  verify  the  conjectural  statement 
of  Jlossrs.  Robinson  and  Smith.  Mr.  Itobinson,  in  the 
book  entitled  "The  Biblical  Cabinet,"'  has  published 
two  interesting  letters,  vrritten,  the  one  from  Sebbeh,  the 
other  from  Jerusalem,  by  Mr.  Woleott,  and  in  which  that 
zealous  traveller  gives  in  full  detail  the  narrative  of  his 
visit  to  Masada.  He  has  correctly  obsorrcd  all  the 
i-cmarkabic  points,  ideiitiRod  the  different  structures  men- 
tioned by  Josephus.  and  recognised  the  besieging  works 
coustructod  by  Silva.  Mr.  Wolcott  is  of  opinion  that  all 
the  remains  still  visible  at  Masada  are  of  the  same  period, 
that  is.  of  the  epoch  of  King  Ilorod  ;  but  ho  considers  tlw 
gate  leatling  into  tlie  town  as  a  modern  ruin.  The 
presence  of  a  modern  ruin  in  Masada  would  certainly  be 
a  more   extraordinury  Cict    tliaii   tJie    existence  of  the 

*  Vol.  xliEL  ji.  AT.  md  foDowiiiflt 


PREnoOa  VISITORS. 


2X7 


n; 

h 

Btl 


1 

I 


i»al  arcli  in  the  days  of  Herod.  The  fortress  of 
Jonntlinu  is  too  distinct]}'  defined  to  be  the  subject  of 
aiTi^iiment ;  but  a  few  exceptional  opinions  on  minor 
points  cannot  lake  from  Mr.  Wolcott  the  merit  of  having 
been  tho  first  to  explore  the  time-honoured  ruins  of 
Masada. 

There  is  one  thing  with  which  1  must  reproach  the 

verend  American  missionary  :  riamely,  tliat  he  amused 
himself  by  rolling  to  the  bottom  of  the  rock  several 
Btonca  dragged  from  tlie  ruins  of  tlie  fortress.  The 
American  naval  expedition,  as  we  shall  perceive,  indulged 
tho  same  piwtime.  It  is  fortunate  that  travellers  arc 
scarce  in  Masada  ;  for  if  they  all  gave  way  to  the  same 
fancy,  the  niins  of  tho  Jewish  dtadel  would  soon  have  to 
be  sought  for  twelve  hundred  feet  below  their  present 
elevation. 

I  Ou  Saturday,  the  29th  of  April,  1848,  at  day-break. 
Captain  Lynch,  commanding  the  American  oxpeditioni 
detached  from  Ayn-Djedy,  where  he  was  encamped, 
Jfossrs.  Dale,  Anderson,  and  Bedlow.  with  a  dragoman, 
a  Turkisli   soldier,  and   some    Arab   guiiics,    with   coin- 

ission  to  explore  the  ruins  of  Scbbeh.  By  simset  these 
gentlemen  returned,  and  after  comparing  their  difierunt 
reports,  Captain  Lynch  published  a  narrative  of  their 
exairsiou. 

As  we  are  now  treating  of  a  most  interesting  8]>ot. 
'on  the  present  state  of  which  we  cannot  have  too  miK-b 
information,  I  tliink  it  appropriate  to  reprint  this  narra- 
tive ;  the  correctness  of  which  is  greatly  to  be  commended, 
as  I  can  certify  from  my  own  visit  three  years  later  to  the 
same  places  dcscriliod  by  the  American  officers.  Hero  is 
the  extract : — 

<|8 


Hi 


CAPTAUC    LYHCDS  M.tRBATirE. 


"A  little  after  eiglit  o'clock  they  cuue  to  Wady- 
Sebbeli,  aud  discovered  a  distinct  road,  fifteen  feet  wide 
and  marked  hy  two  parallel  rows  of  stones,  which 
contiuuod,  with  iatcrruptiouii,  for  tho  space  of  a  quarter 
of  a  mile."  At  nine  o'clock,  when  the  heat  of  the  sun 
bt^ti  to  be  oppressive,  they  reached  a  low  caTO  iu  the 
soutliern  face  of  the  mountain,  over  Wady-Sey&l, — a  deep 
ravine,  which  }>e)>arated  the  cliff  from  the  main  ridge  on 
the  north ;  here  they  disinounted,  as  it  waa  impossible 
to  proceed  further  on  horseback.  Thence,  sometimes 
upon  their  bauds  and  knees,  thoy  clambered  up  the  steep 
and  rugged  chff— its  perpendicular  sidea  pierced  with 
apurturt's,  like  the  rock  of  Gibraltar.  1'hey  were  inclined 
to  believe  that  the  path  by  which  they  ascended  is  the 
one  which  Josephus  calb  the  f^Jerpent,  as  resembling  that 
nnlinal  iu  it^  narrowness  and  perpetual  windings ;  for  i( 
is  broken  off  at  the  prominent  precipices  of  the  rock,  aud 
returns  frequently  into  itself,  and  leugthening  again  by 
little  and  little,  liath  much  to  do  to  proceed  forwaid,  and 
be  tliat  would  vnxlk  along  it  must  first  go  on  one  leg  and 
then  ou  the  other  :  there  is  also  uothing  but  destruction 
in  case  your  feet  slip,  for  on  each  side  there  is  a  vatitly 
deep  chasm  and  precipice. 

'•  They  crossed  the  ravine  upon  a  chalky  ridge,  which. 
although  considerably  below  the  highest  point  of  the  clifi*, 
yet  connects  the  eouthem  steep  of  Seyiiil  with  the  northern 


*  1  did  not  oWnt-  thii  roiA  mn-kcd  witb  itooM,  hceauie  <>«  looli  ■Botb«r 
pMb.  Inilwil,  ilio  Ariiprimn  ofTioHre.  linTiiiii  lniT«11*d  0D  the  mouutoin  >ide,  bO 
tlia  oaf  ttoia  the  OuaUvlSc,!*],  wiiiub  in  laoro  ihaa  &  Imgua  dbiMut  fruoi  tlia 
roak  nr  Sobbeli,  icuit  liaio  t□al^^ll«l  from  north  to  soatli  towunli  Muada.  Did 
th^  folluw  tttp  rMwl  which  JinSfiliUK  oalte  fAc  Strjimi  I  fit  in  lh«  ana  lijr  wbltb 
wo  uocDtliid  «nlitlc-i  to  tlinl  ouat '.  I  loaTo  to  otliern  tho  •lociaion  of  U>i*potnt> 
It  Hjipcon  vtry  prolabla  thM  Iho;  miut  luiTa  fnllra  in  with  our  gcM  tfl«k,  la 
tlwn  ui  no  other  a|>proiwli  /mm  tha  DMd  itnt  Ui  Uuikda. 


CAPTAm  LTNCH'S  KABBATIYE. 


2?9 


escarpment  of  Mamada.  and  reached  the  top  a  little  hefore 
1 0.  A.M.  The  whole  summit  was  surrountlcd  hy  the  niiiis 
of  a  wall,  bnilt  on  the  brink  of  the  precipice. 

"  Passing  through  a  gateway  with  a  pointed  areli— the 
keystone  and  arch  of  which  were  of  hewn  stone,  curiously 
marked  with  Greek  deUa-flhaped  figure-s,  i,  and  others 
resembling  the  planetary  symbol  of  Vcnua,  9;  some 
upright  and  some  reverted  ;  and  others  again  witli  rude 
crosses  and  the  unfinished  letter  T~they  cnme  upon  an 
area  of  about  three-fourths  of  a  mile  in  lenglli  fi-om  nortli 
to  south,  and  one-fourth  of  a  mile  from  east  to  west, 

"  There  was  very  little  vegetation,  except  in  the  bottoms 
of  a  few  excavations,  which  seemed  to  have  been  used  as 
cisterns  or  granaries,  and  iThioh  wore  half  filled  with  a 
rank  weed  and  a  species  of  lichen.  Elsewhere  the  earth 
was  as  sterile  a.s  if  sown  with  salt  ;  yet  Ilerod  spoke  of  it 
as  being  '  of  a  fat  soil,  aud  better  mould  than  any  valley 
for  agriculture."     Concerning  these  excavations.  Josephiis 

|mjs — 'Herod  a)ao  had  cut  many  and  great  pits,  as 
reservoirs  for  water,  out  of  the  rocks,  at  every  one  of  the 
places  that  were  inliabited,  both  aI>ove  and  around  the 

I  p^ace  and  before  the  wall ;  and  by  this  contrivance  he 
endeavoured  to  have  water  for  several  uses,  [is  if  there  had 
been  fountains  there.** 

"  Towards  the  northern  and  western  edge  of  the  cliff, 
and  near  the  point  which  is  probably  the  '  White  Pro- 
montory ■  mentioned  by  Jo8ephus,t  they  observed  one  of 
these  excaratioDs,  of  considerable  extent,  much  choked 


•  I  do  not  andortako  MsuuwitMihccflTrMtiiMBof  Uiatno'lutioiiof  JoHTphni 
pseo  bj  C>pt  L^eb.— Altbuh. 

f  l.«iii:iS  ■••  ut  nie*w  than  two  buudrtd  fuet  balow  the  ira*  if  MknidiL,  TImm 
•Pfous  to  b«  Mine  canAutcm  orp1w«  In  thia  part  of  Opt  I.Ytii:b'ii  narniU'r*. 


iSQ 


CAPTAIS  LTSCH'S  SARBATIVB. 


vith  the  niins  and  nibbisli  of  its  owu  cetnouteJ  waUT 
b^clticr  wiUi  the  dccompueied  thistles  and  rauk  weeds  of 
many  centuries. 

"  In  the  suuth-west  comer  uf  the  rock  they  found  one 
etill  larger,  finely  stuccoed,  with  a  gallery,*  a  flight  of 
forty  stone  steps,  and  lighted  by  two  windows  on  the 
southern  face  of  the  difl".  This  large  room  was  beauti- 
fully stuccoed  with  pebbles,  and  as  smooth  and  clean  as 
if  just  fmiahtvi  This  excavated  chamber  le«I  them  to 
infer  that  there  wore  uumerous  others,  limited  by  tlie 
apertures  of  the  cliff  they  had  socu  outside  on  tbcir  ascent ; 
but  they  could  find  no  access  to  them. 

"  At  the  dititauce  of  about  one  hundred  feet  below  thd 
northern  summit,  on  an  inaccessible  precipitous  ledge,  they 
saw  the  ruins  of  a  roniid  tower  ;  and  at  about  forty  or 
fifty  feet  lower  still,  on  another  ledge,  the  foundations  of  a 
square  enclosure,  with  a  triangidar  wall  abutting  witli  the 
angles  of  its  base  upon  tbo  wall  of  the  circular  tower,  aud 
the  west  aide  of  the  enclosure.  They  found  it  impossible 
to  descend  to  examine  these  ruins. 

"  Besides  the  remains  of  the  round  tower,  or  doujoo- 
keep,  there  were  on  the  summit  the  fragments  of  walla 
with  circular  recetsscs  of  tessekted  brick-work,  arched 
door-ways,  and  mullioneii  windows,  partly  surrounding  an 
enclosure  wliicli  was,  perhaps,  the  courtytird  nr  (]uadrangte 
of  the  castle,  now  filled  with  rubbish,  fragments  of  inarU^ 
mosaic,  and  pottery. 

"  The  foundations  and  lower  portions  uf  the  wall,  huilt 
around    tlie  entire  top    of  the  hill  by    Herod,  are  still 


I 
I 


*  tf  it  bn  the  umo  oxoiiaUoa  wluoh  I  mjneU  riiitect,  my  DMiinot;  1* 
tIcCtctive :  rvr  of  Uia  forty  Rtfji*  li«n)  mautiODod,  I  aw  unly  reooDvct  (our  or  fin 
at  UiQ  utuiont.  Cciidn,  tlicM  gaiitleinco  nicDtiuii  u  wvr,  iiuiio  dillvmLt,  at  Uw 
lery  iiLiuu  agnjt.     1  much  ffortlicrv  »  MiatlicT  niuoiuienUiidlBg. 


CAWAra   LYHCH'g  XABBATIVB. 


231 


reniainiiig  on  the  oastem  side.  The  officers  amused 
IhcmselTes  by  displacing  some  of  tbo  stones,  roUiug  tbciit 
over  the  cliff,  and  watching  them  as  they  whirled 
and  bounded  to  the  base,  upwards  of  twelve  hundred 
feet  below,  with  more  fearful  velocity  than  the  atouca 
burled  &om  the  lionian  ballist%,  when  Silra  pressed  the 
Kege. 

"  One  of  the  windows,  apparently  a  remnant  of  a  chapel, 
looked  out  upon  the  sen.  It  was  th«  one  resembling  an 
arch  which  we  saw  when  passing  in  the  boats.  Theneo 
itio  sea  oould  he  seen  throughout  its  wlioie  extent,  its 
Tthcru  and  soutJieni  oxti-emity  clearly  defined,  ctcji 
through  tliehaiie  which  orcrhnng  Ibeni.  The  configuration 
of  the  poninnnla  lay  distinctly  before  tliem,  and  bore  some 
niblancc  to  an  expanded  wing. 
"  Immediately  below  them,  along  the  base  of  the  cliff, 
oould  be  traced  tiio  wall  of  circumvullation  constructed  by 
Siiva  on  the  exterior,  surrounding  the  whole  place,  and  by 
which  he  effectually  blocktjd  uj)  all  attempt  at  escape  on 
tJie  part  of  the  besieged. 

'•  Continuing  their  researches  towards  the  southern  and 
ni  edge  of  tlie  clitl",  tht^y  followed  a  jicrUouB  track 
along  the  face  of  the  rock,  which  could  not  have  been  lo^ 
an  a  tliousand  feet  in  perpendicular  heigbt  above  the 
4^uistn,  and  camo  upon  an  extensive  shelf  or  platform, 
encumbercl  with  masses  of  rubbish  and  masonry,  evidently 
the  ruins  of  the  wall  which  edged  the  cliff  above. 
Scrambling  over  the  heaps,  tJiey  reached  an  excavation 
called  by  Che  Arab  guide  a  cistom,  which  is  probably 
correct,  for  in  descending  they  saw  narrow  troughs  or 
aqueducts,  the  inner  half  scooped  in  the  rock ;  tlie  wliole 
forming  an  oblong  cell,  measuring  thirty  feet  in  length, 


I      tin 

Pkoi 

of. 


PLste 


232 


CAPTAIN    LYNCUS   NARRATlfK. 


fifteen  ill  breadili,  and  eighteen  or  twenty  ui  dcpti 
cemented  on  all  sides.  At  the  entrance  of  this  excavation 
iLey  saw  the  raroisu  uf  au  animal  recently  killed.  It 
resembled  a  rabbit,  and  was  called  hy  the  Arabs  '  vrcbr ' 
or '  weheh,'  the  coney  of  Scriptnre.  To  the  left  of  the 
entrance,  and  within  the  cell,  was  a  small  flight  of  steps 
terminating  in  a  platform.  Like  the  walls,  the  steps  Mr&o 
coated  with  cement.  Above  was  an  aperture  not  accessible 
by  the  steps,  which  they  contrived  to  reach  by  making 
notches  in  the  wall.  It  was  the  entrance  of  a  low  cave, 
roughly  howu  in  the  rock,  with  a  window  looking  out  upon 
the  steep  face  of  Wady  Senin.  Around  the  rough  and 
uncemented  walls  were  rude  crosses  in  red  paint,  and  upon 
the  dust  of  the  floor  were  the  fresh  foot-printJi  uf  tlie 
*  whal '  or  '  bteddin.'  ' 

"  They  attempted  to  uxploro  the  southern  face  of  the 
mountain  by  following  the  zigzag  path  along  the  ledge, 
projecting  a  few  feci  from  the  rough  surface  of  rock  ;  hut 
found  it  impracticable,  from  the  looseness  of  the  stones  and 
the  fearful  diazy  depth  below. 

"  On  their  return,  they  observed  a  singular  ruin  about 
the  centre  of  the  quadrangle.  The  square  blocks  of  stone, 
cemented  together  with  great  regularity,  were  cellular  on 
both  sides,  and  so  abraded  by  the  weather,  as  to  present 
the  appearance  of  a  honey-comb.  They  supposed  it 
to  have  becu  either  a  storehouse  or  barrack.  Before 
descending,  tliey  sketched  the  sea,  and  took  many 
bearings. 

"  On  their  return  to  the  cave,  the  Arabs  asked  them  if 
their  visit  liad  been  productive.  These  people  believe 
tliat    we    come    here   to  search  for  treasure,  or  to  visii 


I 
I 


*  Citpuin  Limeb  rrrobaUy  in«tin>'  >  badta  or  uitolopt^ 


DUKY   KEgUMRD. 


253 


places  we  consider  holy.      Id  the  Wadj  Sejal  (rarine 

I  of  acacias)  were  many  acaina-trt- cs. 

On   their  retuni,  they  noticed  a  fetid,  sulphureous 

tfitnell  iu  pas»iiig  Bcrket-el-Khalil  (the  tnnk  of  Khalil). 
This  report   coufirms    the    supposition    of   Messrs. 

LBobinsoQ  and  ijmith,  that  the  ruins  of  Sebbeh  are  those 

I  of  Masada.  At  every  stage  in  our  route,  where  these 
gentlcmou  have  been,  we  found  that  accurate  and 
learned  observcra  had  preceded  us  ;  and  in  these  pre- 
cursors, with  no  httle  satisfactioD,  we  recognised  our  owu 
countrymen." 

Such  is  Captain  Lynch 'a  narrative.     Our  readers  may 

I  see  thai  it  agrees  sufficiently  with  what  we  have  ourselves 
observed.  I  nmst  remark  only,  tliat  it  is  not  exactly  just 
to  attribute  to  Messrs.  Kobinsou  and  Smith  (so  ricli 
already  in  their  own  discoveries)  the  honour  of  having 
been  the  fimt  to  visit  the  ruins  of  ifaaada.  That  honour 
bolonjpi  unquestionably  to  Messrs.  Wolcott  and  Tipping  : 
the  officers  despatched  to  Sebheh  by  Captain  Lynch 
■were  the  next  ;  and  with  reasonable  pride  wo  find 
ourselves  the  third  party  who  have  braved  this  perilous 
expedition. 

It  is  high  time  now  to  resume  the  Diary  of  our  journey, 
though  I  need  scarcely  apologise  for  tlie  length  of  the 
digression  on  so  celebrated  a  place  as  the  Jewish  fortress 
of  Maisada. 

By  twenty  minutes  past  eleven  we  are  on  horseback, 
and  leave  our  last  night's  OQcampiag  ground.  After  one 
tarning.  which  takes  us  to  tlie  brink  of  the  ravine 
extending  all  the  way  to  the  right  flai]k  of  the  hill  of 
Sebbeh,  we  march  directly  souUi-south-cast.  That  ravine 
dirergee  into  a  fork  towards  the  moimtain,  and  forms. 


iu 


It£UAIN8  UF   UUMAN    UKtA 


bcginDuig  at  the  spot  vhcre  we  cross  it,  a  Rinall  triangular 
area,  occupied  by  one  of  tlio  sfiuarc  stoiio  redoubts  con- 
atnic'tcd  by  Klavius  Silva  to  defend  ihc  weak  points  of  his 
line  of  circiuuvallation.  Opposite  the  eastern  anglouf  tiie 
redoubt,  and  on  the  corrcKpoiitling  crest  of  the  ravine, 
tbcro  dtil)  exists  a  wall  of  dry  stones,  extending  to  the 
south,  and  joiuiug  three  other  square  redoubts,  which 
inntiially  flank  each  other,  and  cover  the  opening  of  the 
Ouad-el-Hafaf  (valley  of  ruius).  From  the  soiitliem 
angle  of  the  first  redoubt  the  line  of  circtimvallation  coii' 
tinucs,  and  leads  directly  up  the  aide  of  the  mouotain 
until  it  rejoins  ou  the  Lcuke  the  site  of  Silra's  canap. 

By  twenty-live  minutes  past  eleven  wo  hare  passed  the' 
ravine,  and  two  minutes  later  cross  the  line  of  circiim- 
vallation,  which  bears  awav  from  the  <lirection  we  are 
following  by  the  foot  of  Uie  Sobbeh,  to  apjiroach  it  agaiu 
shortly,  and  run  for  some  time  in  a  parallel  direction. 
Tbe  sea  Is  about  three  thousand  yards  distant  to  our  left, 
and  the  sandy  hillocks  whicli  bear  such  an  extraordinary 
i-L-scmblaiice  to  tiic  ruins  of  a  large  city,  lie  between  tis 
and  the  beach,  commencing  at  three  hundred  yards  from 
the  road.  The  foot  of  the  mountain  itself  is  scarcely 
fifty  yards  from  our  right. 

By  thirty  minutes  past  eleven  we  reach  the  bank  oS 
wide  and  precipitous  ravine,  about  fifteen  yard»  in  depth. 
Tliis  is  tbe  Oaad-cl-Hafaf.  At  the  spot  whcro  we  cross 
stands  another  Roman  redoubt,  cooiiectod  by  tbe 
line  of  cirouiii  vallation  witJt  the  first  redoubt  wo  have 
already  recognised.  The  whole  mass  is  thrown  down 
outwardly  to  the  left  of  tbe  line  of  wall,  whicli  rejoins 
tJie  face  agaiu  by  the  iionh-west  angle.  From  tbe.j 
other  extremity  of  the   same   faee    begins    a   portioi 


TUK  OUAU-KL-UAPAF. 


sa5 


^ 

W 


ofllic  intrenclimeDt  cresting  the  brink  of  the  Ounfl-ol- 
Hafaf  for  twenty  or  thirty  yards,  and  ascending  towards 
the  btifiiegcd  furtrcss.  It  then  turns  oft'  to  tlic  soutti 
and  crosses  the  Ouad,  in  which  there  still  remains,  close 
to  the  left  bank,  a  portion  of  wall  more  solidly  and  more 
carefully  erected  than  tlio  rest  of  Hie  line,  of  which  it 
ibnned  a  portion.  Pacing  this,  and  ou  the  opposite  bank, 
commencing  again  from  the  crest,  we  trace  distinctly 
the  ma.<t!i  of  rough  stones  forming  the  line  of  circtim\-at- 
Ution  until  it  reaches  the  north-east  angle  of  a  redoubt 
somewhat  smaller  than  the  others.  From  the  north-west 
angle  of  this  tliird  redoubt  an  enormous  branch  of  the 
lino  runs  directly  up  the  side  of  the  lofty  eminence  which 
commands  the  right  bank  of  the  Onad-el-Hafaf  and  faces 
the  lull  at  Sebbch.  The  small  redoubt  is  only  a  few 
yards  from  the  right  of  our  road,  while  on  our  left,  at  a 
distatK»  of  twenty  yards,  appears  a  much  larger  one, 
siqiiare  like  tlie  rest,  and  prorided  on  its  Bouthem  and 
eastern  laoes  with  two  arched  entrances.  This  was 
evidently  the  head  quarters  of  all  the  posts  established  by 
Silra  to  protect  and  strengthuu  his  line  of  attack  from  the 
shores  of  Lake  Asphaltitcs. 

By  thirty-seven  miiiiites  past  eleven  we  hare  left 
behind  us  the  Ouatl-cl-Hafaf,  and  proceed  along  the 
flank  of  the  mouutain  facing  Sebbeh,  at  a  distance  of  fifty 
yards  from  the  first  acclivities,  and  at  the  same  distance 
from  the  nearest  sandy  hillocks  situated  on  our  left, 
trhich  form  a  continuation  of  those  already  noticed.  Two 
thousand  yards  tu  tlic  left  wc  descry  the  further  end  of 
one  of  the  gulfs  of  the  Dead  Sea.  Our  direction  leads  us 
gradually  from  the  foot  of  the  mountains  and  brings  us 
nearer  to  the  sand-hills. 


2M 


PKRPLBXITIBB  OP   NOHEKCLiTOBK. 


Wc  tlcxt  march  tliroug!)  a  plain  furrowed  with  hollow 
trenches.  By  twelve  o'clock  we  are  two  huutlred  and 
fifty  yards  difitant  firom,  and  in  face  of,  a  deep  rent  in  the 
hill  side,  occasioned  hy  a  waterfall  which  rushes  down 
occasionally,  btit  not  often,  during  the  season  of  the  heavy 
raius.  A  deep  and  wide  ratine  forms  the  outlet  of  this 
cascade.  We  soon  incline  eastward,  and  approach  still 
nearer  to  the  sea  shore.  By  eleven  minutes  past  twelre 
we  are  opposite  the  southern  point  of  the  mountain  along 
the  flank  of  which  we  hare  been  marching  since  we 
passed  the  Ouad-eUHafaf,  and  we  observe,  a  thousand 
yards  in  advance,  the  entrance  of  a  very  large  valley 
which  the  Be<louin8  all  agree  in  calling  again  Ouad-«l- 
Hafaf.  This  double  use  of  the  same  name  puzzles  me. 
I  again  question  our  informants  as  to  the  correct  name  of 
the  Ouad  defended  by  Silva's  redoubt.  They  still  answer. 
Ouad-el-Hafaf,  and  I  must  content  myself  perforce 
with  this  rcpctitioti.  This  proves  the  necessity  of 
receiving  with  due  caution  the  names  given  by  the 
BedouinR  to  localities  which  they  pass  through  seldom, 
and  at  distant  intervals  ;  and  the  designations  of  which 
may  get  jumbled  in  their  memories,  especially  when  these 
localities  are  near  each  other.  Captain  Lynch  mentionB 
an  Ouad-Sebbeh.  which  I  have  not  found  ;  but  as  an 
e{juiv-al«nt  1  have  discovered  two  Ouads-el-llafaf  The 
first  may  very  probably  be  the  Ouad-Sebbeh  of  my  pre- 
decessors. Let  me  relieve  my  conscience  by  declaring 
that  I  used  every  endeavour  to  clear  this  point  of 
nomencUture.  which,  to  my  great  regret,  I  am  still  obliged 
to  leave  in  the  dark. 

Before  a  quarter  past  twelve  we  enter  the  hollow  bed 
of  the  Ouad,  and  follow  it   for  some  time,  taking  our 


THE   OUAD-EL-HAFAF. 


2S7 


course  nearly  due  east.     At   intervals  the   riglit  bfuik 

^irbich  we  follow  is  cut  like  a  perpeudicular  vail,  six  or 

^eight  yards  high.     In  the  bed  of  the  torrent  arc  some 

bolf-buried  trunks  of  trees,  rooted  up  and  carried  aloug. 

Heareu  knows  when,  by  the  flood  of  waters  in  tlie  rainy 

^■Reason.     Some    fine   acacias  and  clumpa  of   tamarisks 

^■jp^ionally  adorn  the  bottom  of  the  Ouad-ct-Hatat     By 

^iVenty-two  minutes  past  twtjlve  wo  turn  our  backs  upon 

the  mountains  of  Can^n.  and  leave  them  at  a  distance  of 

about  two  tboimand    yards.      At    this  moment  we  are 

feeing  a  point  of  the  shore  not  more  than  two  or  three 

hundred  yards  off,  and  which  seems  to  be  divided  from 

the  opposite  capo  of  the  peninsula  of  El-Lisan  by  less 

than  tlirce  quarters  of  a  mile. 

kBy  thirty-two  minutes  past  twelve  another  watercourse 
pens  to  our  right,  the  entrance  to  which  is  concealed  by 
smAJl  hill.  The  mountain  on  the  southern  bank  of  this 
Ouad  is  not  quite  so  high  as  tliOHe  along  the  Ouad-el- 
Hafaf ;  it  inchnes  directly  from  north  to  south,  so  that 
its  axis  neam  rapidly  the  direction  of  our  route,  which 
now  bears  80uth-wc«t.  Here  the  sliore  of  the  Dead  Sea 
is  one  hundred  and  twenty  yards  to  our  left,  and  the 
mountain  side  three  hundred  yards  to  our  right.  Between 
forty  and  fifty  minutes  past  twelve  we  cross  sis  tolerably 
deep  watercourses,  indenting  a  plain  covered  again  by 
thoM  strange-looking  sand-hills  we  have  already  noticed 

.     more  than  once. 

^P  In  such  a  wild  country  one  might  expect  to  find  game  ; 
at  least  so  thinks  our  friend  Belly,  who  rides  on  the  flank 
of  our  caravan,  gun  in  hand,  ready  for  action.  This 
seems  to  us  a  suporfluous  precaution,  considering  that 
lamc  could    find    here  absolutely  nothing  to  feed  upon. 


(40 


OCAZhOm-EL-BeDODJI. 


d 


the  Dead  5!ea,  at  the  northern  point,  is  atrociously  bitter 
and  salt,  but  il  is  lemouade  in  comparisun  with  what  we 
BO  rashtj  tasted  at  Itabath-el-I)jamous. 

1  hare  mentioned  the  rarioiu  'qtiaUties  of  the  Nubian 
in  Rothschild's  retinue,  and  amongst  these,  the  reader 
may  remember  that  greediness  held  the  first  rank.  We 
arc  cruel  enough  to  play  off  a  school-hoy's  trick  on 
our  sable  Pierrot  We  offer  him  the  bottle  out  of  which 
he  haK  seen  us  all  driulting  from  a  distance,  saying, 
"  Drink,  SeUm  ;  'tis  arrad:."  The  poor  deril  swallows 
at  once  a  huge  bumper  with  an  eagerness  upon  which 
we  had  fully  reckoned.  I  have  never  seen  anything 
to  compare  with  his  face  a  moment  aAer ;  he  makes 
grimacea  and  coutorlious  like  a  lunatic  ;  and  it  is  ouly 
by  giTiug  him  a  piece  of  an  orange  that  we  succeed  ia 
consoling  him  for  liaving  allowed  himself  to  be  entrapped 
into  the  very  bitter  joke  we  have  so  remorselessly 
perpetrated.  We  tell  him  too,  that  wc  liave  all  been 
poisoned  like  himself;  he  tlien  forgives  the  trick,  and 
joins  in  the  laugh  at  his  own  mishap. 

From  twenty-six  to  thirty-one  minutes  past  one  we 
climb  to  the  top  of  the  Rcdjom-es-Senin,  and  r«ach  the 
crest ;  from  which  we  discover  to  our  right  a  high  cliff, 
bordering  a  large  ravine  or  watercourse,  with  two  arms, 
both  of  which  we  cross  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  ;  this 
is  the  Ouad-omm-ol-Bedoun  (the  mother-valley  of  the 
antelopes).  Here  the  mountain  is  one  hundrod  and 
fifty  yards  to  our  right,  and  the  sliore  five  hundred 
to  our  left.  Our  route  is  then  tending  south-south-east. 
Wc  proceed  along  a  beach  formed  of  small  gravel,  very 
wmilar  to  that  of  Rabath-ei-Djamous.  Before  us  is  a 
soorclied  and  broken  mountAJQ,   which    we  must  clambei' 


BEDS  OF   LATA   AND   TOUCAKOES. 


Ml 


vor  :    it  is  called  tlio    Djebel-ITatroura.     By    fifty-oiio 
inut«s  i)ast  one  we  begin  tlio  ascent ;  at  two  o'clock 
*e  reach  the  crest ;  and  by  three  minutes  past  two  we 
descend  again  upon  the  other  side.     A  more  repulsive- 
looking  mountain  cannot  be  conceived  :  its  flank,  rapidly 
inclining  and  dipping  into  the  Dead  Sea,  is  a  perfect 
of  huge    blocks    violently    rent    and    overthrown. 
b  arc  evidently  in  the  vicinity  of  a  volcano  ;  and  by 
twenty-six   minutes   past  two  wc  reach  a  bod  of  lava, 
coming  from  the  west,  and  resembling  a  hollow  filled  with 
elted  iron,  formed  of  concentric  layers.     Until  half-paat 
we  keep  winding  up  and  down  the  side  of  the  mountain, 
rough  rocks  dislocated  by  the  action  of  centuries.     The 
al  descent  commenced  then,  and  in  a  few  minutes  more 
e  clear  the  Ouad-Hatroura,  ending  in  an  immense  crater 
ncumbered    with    detached    rocks.     By    forty    minutes 
it  two  we  are  opposite   the  southern  limit  of   this 


We  then  find  ourselves  again  upon  the  beach,  at  a 

"Very  short  distance  (about  fifty  yards)   from  the  sJiore 

id  in  a  plain   nearly  eight  hundred  yards  in  breadth^ 

sell    sprinkled    with    high    sandy    hillocks,     which     lie 

tween  us  and  the  mountains.     At  forty-seven  minutes 

past  two  we  turn  south-sovith-west,  and  then  again  almost 

immediately  west-south-weat,  and  keep  marching  in  this 

last  direction  until  three  o'clock.     We  wind  at  a  di-stance 

^^f  about  two  hundred  yanU  along  tlie  foot  of  a  high 

^■nountain,    with    its   axis    parallel    to   our  .route.      The 

^Bistance  from  the  shore  varies  but  little,  between  twenty 

^hnd   forty  yards  only,  until  tifty-si.v  minutes  past  two. 

Here  the  beach   widens  rapidly,  to  the  extent  of  five 

e  yards  :    this  is  again  a  delta,  formed  by  the 


242  ItriNS  OF   QiJ.AAT-EKBASKHBG. 

gravel  brought  down  bj  a  torrcDt  ooming  from  the  Onad, 
which  we  discover  before  us. 

Two  hundred  yards  to  our  right,  and  about  fifty  yards 
higher  up  than  our  road,  on  the  mountain  ade,  ve 
[>erceive  a  thid^et  of  acacias  and  reeda,  occasioned  by  the 
prescDce  of  a  spring ;  but  the  Arabs  tell  us  that  the 
water  is  brackish  and  not  fit  to  drink.  A  little  further 
on  before  us  is  a  small  hillock,  surmounted  by  a  square 
ruin,  built  of  fine  hewn  stone  ;  this  proves  to  be  a  small 
fort  of  ancient  structure,  called  now-a-days  Qalaat- 
Embarrheg.  By  three  o'clock,  exactly,  we  are  at  the  foot 
of  this  hillock,  which  is  scarcely  twenty  yards  distant  to 
our  right  Classes  of  rubbish  and  masonry,  spread  over  a 
very  large  surface,  surround  the  Qalaat  Such  ruins 
ought  to  be  carefiiUy  examined ;  but  our  most  urgent 
affairs  for  this  erening  are  to  find  water  to  drink,  and  to 
overtake  our  lu^age.  Judging  &om  the  manner  in 
which  our  Scheikhs  have  hurried  the  day's  march,  we 
suspect  that  we  are  still  at  a  considerable  distance  from 
our  proposed  encamping  ground. 

Along  the  foot  of  the  Qalaat-Embarrheg  runs  a  ravine 
twenty  yards  deep,  which  we  cross,  shaping  our  course 
then  duo  west:  this  Ouad  ia  about  fifty  yards  wide. 
.Some  hundred  yards  further  on  we  turn  south  again,  and 
find  ourselves  by  seven  minutes  past  three  in  the  centre 
of  an  extensive  area,  closed  in  on  all  sides  by  perpendi- 
cular cliflH,  rising  even  out  of  sight  Here  our  tents 
are  pitched :  our  horses,  quite  refreshed,  are  greedily 
devouring  the  reeds  they  are  so  fond  of;  our  kitchen  is' 
already  cstAbli»hcd,  and  all  our  people  have  assumed  a 
joyous  mien.  It  is  easy  to  perceive  we  have  here  an 
unlimited  supply  of  fresh  water.     This  valley  is,  in  &ct. 


AOKERASE.B   BN'CAUI'HBKT. 


£48 


b 


called  0«ad-eI-MaJiet-Embarrheg  (the  ralley  of  the  wat«r 
rOf  Eriibarrbog). 

Oo  tho  wcstcrii  biuik,  flanking  the  area  upon  which  we 
rhave  pitched  our  camp,  several  lines  of  wall,  regularly 
built,  aud  of  chiselled  materials,  are  hanging  some  ten  or 
5Aeen  yards  above  the  level  of  tho  ground.  What  could 
Jiave  been  tho  object  of  these  waiLi  T  1  cannot  comprc- 
head.  Asking  information  from  the  Arabs,  and  trying 
to  get  out  of  them  anything  beyond  the  names  of  the 
L  places,  is  more  toss  of  time  and  labour.  At  Sebbeh,  the 
^wredoubts  of  Silva.  according  to  llamdan,  were  merely 
^B"  Maql)ourat-il-iJolad"  ("  the  burying-gi-ounda  of  the 
"place)."  Here  at  Embarrheg,  just  as  at  Ayn-Djody.  tlie 
ruins  are  all — gardens  :  so  much  for  our  local  authorities. 
Once  alighted,  after  having  looked  iu  \vonder  for  some 
moments  on  the  extraordinary,  rectangular,  skt/-rooffd 
hall  in  which  we  are  lodged,  aj)parently  without  egress, 
I  inquire  from  the  Arabs  where  they  have  found  the  reeda 

P^d  the  water.  They  point  out  the  southern  extremity, 
toying,  "  llin  1 "  ("  There  !  ")  I  could  almost  think  they 
were  joking  ^\ith  me,  had  I  not  before  my  eyes  abundant 
I  proo&  to  the  contrary.  The  wisest  plan  is  to  go  and  sec. 
I  Wo  do  so,  and  the  reader  can  imagine  our  surprise  when, 
^hn  arriving  at  the  bottom  of  our  inctosurc,  we  discover,  in  a 
^Breatorly  direction,  an  opening  eight  or  ten  yards  ^idc, 
^ftecming  with  reeds,  many  trees  of  ten  different  species, 
and  rarioiLs  creeping  plants  interlacing  and  twining  round 
them  all.  The  deliglitfiJ  murmur  of  water  running  over 
pebbles  is  heard  a  few  yards  off ;  it  is  tho  sound  of  a 
freah  and  limpid  rivulet,  flowing  genily  down  to  lose 
itself  in  the  finest  sand,  at  tho  exact  spot  where  you  enter 
this  picturesque  olel^.    Anotlier  noise,  different  from  the 

H3 


244 


ABl'NDAKT  srPi'LY   OF   WATER. 


murmur  of  the  water,  rosounds  tlirough  tlie  thicket ;  the 
mcrrv  song  of  our  Bedouins,  tJic  rcpeatcl  blows  of  their 
yataghans  upon  the  trees  and  nishes,  and  the  crash  of 
both  u  they  fall  to  the  ground.  Otiicr  Arabs  are 
drinking,  and  porforniing  the  ablutions  of  which  tliey 
hare  been  balked  since  we  left  Aj-n-Djedy.  This 
example  is  too  tempting  not  to  bo  followed  by  our  whole 
party. 

Belly  and  Loysel  commence  sketching ;  Edward, 
liothschild,  and  I,  begin  our  search  for  insects  and  planta, 
and,  until  darkneSH  driros  us  from  thia  onchantiug  spot 
we  forget  that  our  dinner  is  waiting  for  us.  At  last 
we  return  to  the  camp,  where  1  hare  a  long  conversation 
with  Abou-Daouk.  Until  now  tlic  bravo  Schuikh  had 
been  dissuading  us  from  passing  along  the  eastern  shore 
of  the  Balir-Loutii,  and  hinted  plainly  enough  that  he 
had  not  the  sliglitcst  inclination  to  accompany  us  in  that 
direction.  Thia  evening  liu  has  changed  his  mind,  and 
is  now  ready  to  attend  us  with  his  people  wherever  we 
may  choose  to  go.  Of  course  we  are  highly  pleased  to 
find  our  loug'Cherisbcd  hopes  likely  to  be  realised.  I 
attribute  the  Scheikh's  present  zeal  in  our  service  to  llie 
fact  of  my  having  cured  Ida  ophthalmia.  When  I  advised 
him  to  use  some  Regent's  ointment,  I  had  warned  liim 
that  during  the  two  first  days  it  would  increase  hb 
sufferings,  but  that  he  would  find  himself  better  after- 
wards. Sfy  prediction  has  proved  true  ;  the  inflammation 
disappears,  and  Abou-Daouk,  who  has  the  greatest  desire 
to  obtain  from  mc  tlic  little  box  containing  the  unguent 
that  has  cured  him,  is  ready  to  make  any  sacrifices  in 
the  world  to  achieve  hts  object  He  dares  not  yet  plaioly 
make  the  demand,  but  it  will  come  in  due  course : — I 


I 


XV  BVENmO  OP  KKJOTMBST. 


245 


have  strangely  miscalculated  tho  Arab  character  if  I  am 
niistakoii  in  my  conclusion. 

The  evening  passes  tlctightfully  ;  joy  sits  round  every 

re  ;  chibouks,  coffee  and  gossip  are  going  on  famously  ; 

have  never  before  seen  our  camp  so  thoroughly  merry. 

t  Scbbcli  wo  sang  and  danced,  'tis  true,  but  we  were 

irsty.    This  evening  we  want  nothing.      Our  people 

dulge  their  present  happiness,  careless  of  the  future. — 
'repose  under  the  finest  sky  iu  tho  world,  sheltered  from 
jevery    breeze,    and    have    all    they    require    in   ample 
.bimdoiicc. 

,b  is  contagious  ;  it  has  possessed  us  all,  and  were 
It  not  for  the  fatigtie  consequent  upon  our  hard  morning's 
work  at  Scbbeh,  wc  should  be  in  no  hurry  to  retire  to 
our  beds.  But  to-morrow  we  have  a  long  march  before 
us,  and,  as  we  are  assured,  a  rough  road  to  travel  on. 

t  us   then  to  rest,   to  be   better  prepared   for   the 

ifiicultics  in  stores 

AboU'Daouk's  brother  haa  left  us  and  gone  on  in 
ice  to  sound  the  dispositions  of  tho  wandering 
'3  whose  country  we  have  to  pass  through.  Upon 
the  answers  tliat  he  brings  back  depends  much  of  our 
future  success,  I  have  completed  my  day's  work,  and 
may  at  Ust,  to  my  very  great  satisfaction,  follow  (he 

neral  example  and  seek  repose. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


Owtelluni,  or  nilovLl  fcirt. — Rcmui  lUclim.— Tliamitra  of  Rtuehloi. — Rulsi  tod 
tntreat  of  laia. — S»ll  raorBsa.^I'iaiu  uid  tnounlain  of  Sodom,— Testiga  of 
andmt  SwIom.^I'ynmirlkloolumiia  of  uJt. — TtiIh)  of  Uia  Ah9iutb>l>i — 
Til*  acWikli  Hrlluii, — a>bkh*b.  or  plain  trf  tho  n)t  inuil.— BueuBpBMnt  of 
Iha  AlioiicttutU.~Sui^di)u«  ftiaoda  —  Prirurchftl  honpiialit;. — A  rmftmn* 
loliiakli — An  cxi<ini«lT«  ^R, — The  trilm  of  Bacii-tijikban — Robban  of  ■ 
■uji«Hur  onlnr. — Inlroductlon. — VUit  to  tliolr  liiictmpinciit. 

/aiMar»ISlL 

Tnis  morniug  ray  first  visit  has  becu  to  tlie  beautiful 
ra^TDO  we  are  about  to  leave,  in  all  probability,  for 
ever.  It  looks  as  fresh  and  smiling  as  it  appeared 
yesterday.  The  world  cannot  produce  a  more  attractive 
spot ;  no  wonder,  then,  that  we  find  extensive  ruios  to 
attest  the  presence  of  a  miUtary  station  uear  such  a 
pnre  and  abundant  spring  as  that  of  EI-Maiet-Embarrhog. 
On  my  return  to  camp,  I  find  our  tents  struck  and 
break^t  ready.  A.h  I  am  determined  not  to  leave  ibo 
place  without  a  closer  look  at  Uie  Qalaat-Kmbarrheg, 
which  I  only  glanced  at  from  the  road  as  wc  passed  by, 
and  as  I  wish  to  obtiin  some  more  information  as  to  the 
nature  and  origin  of  this  ancient  relic,  I  hasten  to  mount 
my  horse,  taking  with  me  my  faithful  Ahouad ;  and 
casting  a  last  i>artJug  look  of  regret  on  the  delightful 
glcn,  where  we  have  found  a  shelter,  I  gallop  to  the 
ruins.  I  find  a  caMellum,  or  small  fort,  built  on  a  hillock, 
about  fifty  yai'ds   above  the   platform   that   forms    the 


I 

I 
I 


CASTELLITM,  OR   RHINRD  PORT. 


b 


I 


right  bank  of  tho  valley.  This  hillock  abuts  on  the  side 
of  the  mountain.  The  constrnction  is  similar  to  (hat  of 
tho  pisciua  (or  pool)  at  Bethcsda,  and  of  several  walls  in 
MiLsada ;  I  mean  that  the  successiyc  rows  of  hewn  stonea 
are  cemented  together  hy  other  stone  chips  of  a  very 
small  dimension. 

Tho  caskllmn  is  a  parallelogram,  the  exterior  sides  of 
which,  parallel  with  the  direction  of  the  Ouad,  are  four- 
anJ-twcnty  yards  long  ;  the  two  other  faces  being  only 
eighteen  yards  broad.  An  opening  with  a  cii-cnlar  arch, 
on  the  face  looking  towards  the  monntain,  forms  the 
entrance  to  the  castcUuin.  Another  opening  exists  in  the 
Icft-luuid  quarter  of  the  opposite  face.  At  each  angle 
there  is  a  bastion,  or  rather  a  square  tower  ;  the  flanks  of 
which  arc  one  .yard  in  height  above  tlie  connecting 
curtains,  and  the  faces  are  four  yards  long.  The  base  of 
the  whole  stracttire  is  covered  with  the  broken  fragments 
of  the  higher  walU.  The  itimilituilo  between  this  military 
e«ti&co  and  the  defensive  works  of  Masada  render  it 
impossible  to  trace  the  Qalaat-Embari-hcg  to  any  other 
period  than  chat  of  che  fortilications  of  the  latter  post 
completed  by  tlie  orders  of  Ilerod  tho  Great 

A  circuit  of  heaped-up  pebbles  and  rubbish,  cxactJy 
similar  to  the  circumvallation  of  Silva  round  Sebbeh, 
embraces  the  fort  and  hillock.  Arc  these  the  advanced 
posts  or  tlie  besieging  trenches  of  the  Romans  T  I  can- 
not telL  As  I  had  not  leisure  to  examine  the  ground 
separating  the  castcllum  from  tho  mouutaiu,  I  could 
not  decide  whether  these  line.<9  may  be  traced  in  that 
direction  ;  though  it  is  very  probable  in  either  case.  On 
the  opposite  side  of  the  Ouad  are  other  remains  of  walls 
in    fiao   cut  stone,  which    have   most  likely  coDStitutcd 


\ 


SM 


BOHAN   STjtTION. 


additioQal  works,  uniting  with  t!te  castellmn  to  complete 
the  dufuuces  of  ilic  Ouail-el-Malet-Embarrheg. 

Everything  well  considered,  it  seems  to  me  a  tiatural 
couclusion  tliat  wc  hare  here  military  works  origiiutlly 
constructed  by  the  Jews ;  nt  a  later  period  taken  posses- 
sion of  by  the  UoniaiiK,  and  then  again  iiikmI  by  the 
eonqucrortj  to  strcugLlicii  so  iiuportanl  a  station  as  the 
locality  of  the  bc8t  and  most  abudnant  spring  of  fresh 
water  on  the  road  between  tho  eoutitrim  of  Cannan  and 
tlio  Land  uf  Moab.  Let  us  now  inquire  if  it  is  possible 
to  find  in  history  somo  traces  of  a  Roman  military  post 
somewhere  in  tho  noighbourhood  of  thiji  desirable  supply 
- — ^an  advantage  which  such  skilfid  warriors  were  not 
likely  to  neglect. 

Kiiscbius,  at  the  word  'AaaaorOatkii',  mentions  a  station 
named  Thamara,  with  a  Roman  garrison,  distant  one 
day's  march  from  Hebron,  on  the  ruad  to  Ada.  llie  text 
of  Euscbius,  with  regai-d  to  this  locality,  lias  unfortunately 
been  corrupted,  for  it  contains  tho  won!  /toAiv,  (literally,  a 
Iiorse'a  cotigh),  which  evidently  has  no  business  there. 
Saint  Jerome  has  understood  this  passage  as  I  have  just 
quoted  it,  but  in  bis  tui-n  be  hjis  introduced  the  word 
Memphis,  which  is  another  mistake.  Reland  substitutes  for 
the  single  word  ftaAts,  the  two  words  fioJid^ui*  liovjt,  which 
would  give  Uie  meaning  ;  "  Distant  one  da^s  march  from 
Malatha:  on  llic  road  from  Hebron  to  Aila."  It  seems  to 
me  much  more  natural  to  replace  the  word  j^oAtc  by  notf^s, 
which  has  the  same  number  of  letters,  and  clears  tJie  text 
of  Eusebius.  With  this  alteration,  Tliaiiiura  was  one 
day's  march  from  Hebron,  going  from  that  town  to  Afla 
on  the  Red  Sea.  In  a  direct  line  this  is  exact,  but  which 
was  the  road  followed  1     We  have  lost  sight  of  it.     By 


lAUABA 


* 


» 


whichever  way  you  travel  now,  it  would  be  a  very  long 
day's  march  from  Hebron  to  Embarrheg.  if  Embarrbeg  is, 
as  I  believe,  t)io  Tbamara  of  Eusebliis.  If  the  substitution 
proposed  by  Relaml  be  soimd,  as  Maliitlia  was  an 
Iduma;aii  fortress,*  situated  in  tlie  southern  territory  of 
the  tribe  of  Judith,  at  about  twenty  Roman  miles  from 
Hebron,  it  would  be  quite  correct  to  say  tliat  Tliamara 
(supjKMiing  it  still  to  be  identical  with  El-Ma"iet-Em- 
barrheg)  is  distant  one  day's  mareh  from  Malatlia. 

Pcolemy  places  in  the  lowest  rank  amongst  tlie  towns 
of  Judiea  one  which  he  calls  Tltamaro ;  this  is  uiKjues- 
tionably  the  Thamara  of  Kusvbius.  I  give  the  three  last 
calculattonB,  taken  from  Ptolemy.  Eyyaiia.  66^°  and  31 1* ; 
B>i«u>pa,  66i'  and  31"  ;  eut^<i,  66^'  and  'iO^-^.'  lleiand 
obsorres,  quite  correctly,  that  Ptolemy  assigns  precisely 
the  same  longitude  aud  latitude  to  Thamaro  and  KoAyjIia, 
a  town  in  Arabia  Petrica,  and  that  consequently  cither 
one  or  the  other  of  tlicse  two  calculations  is  necessarily 
errODCous.  If  we  construe  the  longitudes  and  latitudes 
as  given  by  Ptolemy  for  Jerusalem,  Kngadda,  and 
Thamaro,  we  fall  again,  for  the  situation  of  Thamaro, 
as  near  as  possible,  upon  El-Maiet- Embarrbeg. 

In  Peutinger's  Table  we  find  Thuniaro  placed  as  follows 
with  re;^ard  to  relative  distances  :t — From  Raba-Bathora 
(otherwise  Rabbath-Moab,  or  Rabbah)  to  Thamaro  (otlieP- 
wise  Thamara,  or  Tell-cl-XIsoggal),  Isviiii  miles ;  J  from 
thence  to  Jerusalem,  liii  miles.  Colonel  Lapie  has  placed 
Thamaro  at  Tell-el-Msoggal,  in  which  we  must  recognise 
the  Rcdjom-et-Mezorrhel,  certainly  situated  on  the  site  of 


•  JoMipbni,  Ant.  sti.  S. 

t  8m  OtHMlloD  ot  Hjavnaiea,  oditci]  bj  M.  MuUor,  *.d,  1S4& 

:  H>o  nt*t  edition  bM  es  m>tMd  of  09  mi]e& 


£60 


TU4MAHA   0¥   Kt;SEBID& 


Sodom.  But  this  mistaken  idoatiBcation  ariiies  rro[n~t^c 
circuiustaDoo  tliat  the  ruins  of  Embarrheg  were  iiuknown 
to  the  learned  geographer  ;  for,  if  we  carry  back  Thamara 
to  this  laat  point,  itic  respective  distances  of  Ixviii  or  Ixviiii 
miles  fi'om  Er-Itabba  to  Embarrhcg.  antl  of  IiJi  miles  from 
Enibarrhcg  to  Jerusalem,  given  by  Peutiiiger's  Table,  are 
much  nearer  the  truth,  than  if  wc  carry  Thamara.  three 
leagues  loiror  down  to  the  south,  on  the  site  ofBcctjom-el- 
Mezorrhel. 

And,  lastly,  in  the  "  Kotitia  Imperii,"  we  find  again, 
amongst  the  garrisons  under  the  command  of  the  Dux 
Palaxitinae,  Cahorx  tfuaria  Pal^estinorum  Tfiamantt  (most 
likely  meant  for  Thamara)) — "at  Thamara  the  fourth 
cohort  of  the  Palestines." 

I  have  quoted  all  the  pasisages  I  am  acquainted  with,  in 
vhich  there  is  any  mention  of  Thamara.  I  must  now  try 
to  justify  the  identification  which  1  propose  between  El- 
Malet-Embarrhcg  and  Thamara.* 

1.  The  modern  name  itself,  with  the  sound  of  tholott*^ 
/,  uniting  it  either  with  the  woiol  MaTe/,  or  the  word 
Qalaai  (Maio/-JSm^fl«-A(?5',  or  f^tsXsai-Emharrlmfy,  retains 
in  my  opinion  most  evident  signs  of  the  primitive  appella- 
tion ;  supposing,  however,  thjit  it  was  not  the  Romans 
who  crippled  the  word  Maiict^Stnl/arr/iaj  to  give  it  the 
Latin  form  Thamara.  However  that  may  be.  between 
MoiCl-JimltarrAeff  and  Thamara  the  diBercnce  is  not  so 
great  but  that  the  two  denominations  might  be  made  to 
identify. 

2.  El-Mai"et-Embarrlicg  was  positively  sitiuited   on  the 


*  TluuiMca  moHu  tha  Piiliii'trM&     Otn  tli«r*  punfl)!;  be  najr  identity  betwno* 
tha  uiuitnit  Tluuntm  and  tbe  ^lu^  aHltii  I'tluiu'  by  WilliMii  o(  Tjni  who  at 


ROMAlf   OABRISOy. 


251 


road  described  in  Peutioger's  Table,  leading  from  Er-Rabba 
to  Jerusalem';  for  in  that  Itinerary  there  is  not  a  word 
»aid  of  Zoara,  whicli  would  certaiuly  hare  been  mentioned 
if  the  road  had  gone  up  the  valley  <>f  the  Ouad-ex-Zouera. 

3.  We  have  seen  at  the  Qalaat-Embarrhcg,  aiid  on  tlio 
other  bank  of  the  Ouad,  military  constructions,  which  can 
bo  refon'ed  to  the  Komans ;  or  at  any  rate,  which  were 
likely  to  have  been  used  and  occupied  by  them  ;  and  litis 
cinnimstance  agrees  perfectly  with  the  assertion  of 
Euacbius. 

4.  And  lastly,  the  presence  of  a  plentiful  sprhig,  like 
that  of  Knibarrheg,  would  be  enough  (even  supposing  that 
there  did  not  remain  auy  vestiges  of  buildings  in  the 
vicinity)  to  prove  that  all  the  successive  masters  of  this 
arid  country  felt  the  importance  of  a  strong  post  at  that 
particular  point. 

From  the  evidence  I  have  adduced,  I  boldly  maintain 
that  Qalaat-Eraban-heg  is  precisely  the  fort  where  the 
garrisou  of  Thamara  was  slatioiied. 

Whilst  I  am  taking  notes  and  studying  the  general  dis- 
position of  the  ancient  town,  whatever  it  may  have  been, 
which  once  stood  at  tlie  entrance  of  the  OuadH>I-7lIa!et- 
Kmbarrheg,  my  companioDS  and  our  luggage,  issuing  from 
the  ravine,  and  climbing  its  right  bank,  march  due  south. 
I  hnsten  to  join  them,  and  leave  the  foot  of  the  castelluiD 
at  forty-nine  minutes  past  eight.  It  takes  me  rather  more 
than  five  minutes  to  reach  the  other  sido  of  the  Otiad. 
By  fifty-eight  minutes  past  eight  I  pass  the  eouthcm  wall 
of  the  iuclosure  round  Thamara.  after  having  crossed  a 
considerable  space  covered  on  either  side  with  heaps  of 
ruins,  simihir  to  tJiose  I  observed  at  Ayn-Djedy. 

We   have   now    to  our   right  a  high    mountain,    the 


252 


BUIN8   ASD  CUBBKKT  OF   LATJL 


culmitiatiug  point  of  \fhic1i  is  about  two  thousand  ye 
off.  We  are  trending  the  beacli,  nad  the  sea  ts  only  eighty 
yards  from  us.  By  one  minute  after  uiuo  we  cross  a  rarine 
ninning  from  west  to  cast,  and  our  road  inclines  south- 
soutb-eaat.  Seven  minutes  latiT  we  come  to  three  other 
ravines,  being  the  three  branches  of  the  bed  of  a  torrent, 
which  descends  from  a  circular  fissure,  scooped  in  tlie  side 
of  a  mountain  distant  from  us  some  twelve  or  fifteen 
yards. 

By  thirteen  minutes  past  nine  we  cross  another  water- 
course coming  down  from  the  aajue  chaam.  The  beach, 
about  eight  yards  wide,  is  strewed  with  largo  stones.  To 
speak  more  corroctJy,  it  is  not  a  beach,  but  the  declivity 
of  a  low  hill,  sloping  gently  to  the  sea.  By  ninotc«u 
minutes  past  nine,  we  encounter  again  »)me  very  palpable 
remains  of  a  cuneot  of  lava,  and  are  in  front  of  the  Ouad- 
en-Nedjid,  the  bed  of  which  we  cross  without  impediraont. 
Here  appear  again  the  green-sand  hills  so  often  referred 
to,  the  nearest  of  which  are  situated  about  six  hundred 
yards  to  the  right  of  our  road.  The  sen  is  distant  about 
fifty  yards. 

By  half-past  nine  we  are  opposite  a  well-dcGncd  crater, 
distant  from  us  fifteen  hundred  yards,  and  from  which 
issue  five  torrents,  the  beds  of  which  we  cross  suocessirely 
in  a  few  minutes.  To  our  right  are  hillocks  of  pebbles 
along  the  foot  of  the  mountain  :  to  our  left  the  usual  sand- 
hills. The  mountain  is  low  in  comparison  with  those  wo 
have  rounded  until  row  ;  I  scarcely  tliink  it  roaches  thi 
hundred  yards  in  height.  By  forty-two  minutes  past  nin*^ 
the  hillocks  of  sand  disappear,  and  we  march  over  the  side 
of  an  eminence,  strewed  witli  small  scattered  stones. 
Behind  tliis  hill  are  low  mountains,  the  bases  of  which 


SALT  MOBASS. 


SS3 


appear  to  be  distant  alwut  eight  Inindrecl  yards.  By  a 
quarter  to  ten.  the  beach,  scarcely  forty  yards  wide,  is 
covered  with  brambles  ;  many  salt  spriugs  issue  from  the 
foot  of  the  hili,  and  form  a  kind  of  morass,  grown  all  over 
with  a  thick  oily  plant  of  a  dark  green  colour,  called  by 
the  Arabs,  "  kali."  This  salt  morass  extends  over  a  length 
of  about  three  hundred  yards. 

Since  foity-two  miimtes  past  nine  o'clock  we  have  been 
marching  due  sonlli ;  at  fifty-one  minutes  past,  we  turn 
south-son  ih- west,  keeping  in  this  direction  for  about  six 
minutes  ;  then  we  turn  again  south-south-east.  The  sand- 
Iiilla  re-apj>ear  to  our  right,  and  wo  discover,  five  himdred 
yards  off,  the  vertical  steep  of  an  immense  crater,  encum- 
bered with  huge  heaps  of  sand.  Tlic  beach  is  here  only 
fifty  yards  wide  ;  and  about  fifteen  hundred  yards  beyond 
the  crater  begins  the  valley  or  Onad-ez-Zouera,  divided 
frum  us  by  a  plain  covered  with  sand-hills. 

Here  wo  make  our  first  halt  of  five  minutes,  to  listen  to 
the  advice  of  Scheikh  Abou-Daouk.  It  appears  llmt  the 
coiuitry  wc  are  about  to  enter  liaa  a  bad  reputation,  and 
that  it  would  be  imprudent  to  allow  our  luggage  to  travel 
in  advance:,  without  our  escort. 

By  twelve  minutes  past  ten  we  resume  our  march, 
d«nng  as  much  as  possible  the  ranks  of  our  caravan,  our 
direction  being  south-cast.  As  I  have  said  just  now,  wo 
are  about  fifteen  hundred  yards  diwtiuit  from  the  mouth  of 
the  Ouad-ez-Zouera.  To  our  left  the  beach  widens 
rapidly,  and  is  covered  with  small  trees,  forming  a  sort  of 
thicket,  through  which  protrude  some  specimens  of  the 
arborescent  glass  wort,  which  one  might  take  for  tamarisks, 
if  we  did  not  recognise  their  identity.  The  plain  wc  are 
crossing  is  strewed  witli  lai^  boulders  and  rolled  pebbles. 


254 


TLAlIf   AXD  MOUNTAIN  OP  aUDOlf. 


To  tlic  gouch,  anoUier  plain  begins  to  open,  witli  a  few 
BCaUered  acacuis.  This  is  the  plain  of  Sdoum  (Sodom  l), 
bounded  by  the  Djcbcl-el-llnoua.  The  bottom  of  ttiia 
plain  is  covered  by  small  saud-bills,  beginmng  at  Uio 
distance  of  two  thousand  yAnb,  and  extending  as  far  as 
tht!  foot  of  the  mountain. 

Another  mountain  is  before  us,  and  its  first  declivities 
are  distant  not  more  tlian  one  hundred  and  iiUy  vards. 
Tills  mountain  is  the  Djcbel-Sdoum  or  Djcbe!-el-JIelohli, 
the  mountain  of  Sodom.  Let  us  be  thankful,  we  have 
reached  it  at  last,  without  accident,  by  twenty-nine 
minutes  past  ten. 

White  we  are  contemplating,  with  intense  joy,  this  place. 
which  we  have  attainetl  without  encountering  serious 
danger,  although  with  great  exertions.  Belly,  Loysel,  and 
Kotliijchild  incautiously  pltinge  into  the  thicket,  in  search 
of  game.  Our  Sctieikhs  are  vexed  at  tlicir  imprudctioc. 
If  wc  can  credit  them,  this  copse  is  peopled  with  robbers 
and  asftassins.  For  some  minutes  we  shout  with  all  our 
might  to  recall  our  adventurous  spoitsmen.  They  givo  no 
answer,  and  we  send  some  of  onr  escort  in  pursuit. 

Abou-Daouk  bcconios  enrngc(L  "  If  you  want  me  to 
escort  you  and  to  bring  you  back  alive,"  says  he,  "  do  not 
separate  from  each  other  ;  for  I  couhl  not  then  answer  for 
your  safety.  Beiddes,  it  is  not  only  tlic  robbttrs  you  have 
to  fear  in  this  country.  Look  at  this  pit ;  it  was  can 
a  year  since,  by  an  unfortunate  camel,  swallowed  up  in  a 
bottomless  abyss,  which  opened  suddenly  under  bis  feet 
Do  you  want  tlie  same  accident  to  happen  to  any  of  your 
party  1  Do  you  wish  to  be  murdered,  or  robbed  at  the 
very  least  \  If  80,  you  have  ouly  to  indulge  in  such  excur- 
sions as  your  companions  are  now  undertaking,  aud  you 


8AKD,   SALT,   ANU  RUINS. 


iE55 


will  very  soon  meet  wliat  jou  will  bring  on  joureelvcs,  in 
the  hoe  of  my  ui^ent  remonstrances."  Fortunatelj,  for 
once  wo  escape  with  the  alarm.  Our  Bedouins  have  over- 
taken the  rash  sportsmen  and  bring  them  back  to  us.  I 
lecture  ttiem,  witli  as  grave  a  countenance  as  I  can  assume, 
pointing  out  the  fatal  pit,  close  to  which  we  are  standing, 
a  plunge  into  which  would  be  badly  compensated  by  the 
death  of  every  partridge  in  tlitj  wLirld. 

Once  more  collected,  we  resume  our  marcli,  and  pro- 
ceeding eastward,  with  the  object  of  rounding  the  base  of 
the  hill  of  sail  or  Sodom,  wo  find  oureolvcs,  by  thirty- 
eight  minutes  past  ten.  exactly  between  the  foot  of  this 
strange  mountain  and  the  sea.  The  shore  is  two  hundred 
nnd  fifty,  and  the  mountain  only  fifty  yards  from  us.  ITia 
beach  we  are  treading  is  composed  of  loose  sand,  covered 
with  saline  incnistations.  C)tir  horses'  feet  constantly  sink 
in  it  above  the  fetlock.  To  onr  left  arc  small  pools  of 
water,  constituting  real  salt  wells,  and  producing  a  per- 
fectly crystallised  salt  of  the  moat  dazzling  whiteness.  A 
Bedouin,  nearly  naked,  is  here  disposing  this  salt  in  heaps. 
We  draw  near  him,  and  ask  him  to  give  ns  two  or  three 
handfuls  of  his  commodity.  Ho  complies  with  great 
readiness ;  and  as  we  present  him  in  return  two  or  three 
piastres,  he  seems  perfectly  astonished  at  our  muiiificcncft. 

After  five  minutes'  halt  near  the  salt-maker,  we  resume 
onr  march  heavily  over  this  harassing  ground.  By  eleven 
o'clodi  wo  pass  close  by  a  hillock,  fifteen  yards  in  diameter, 
coTered  with  large  rough  stones  that  look  as  thougli  they 
had  been  burnt,  and  which  constituted  at  some  remote  and 
nnasccrtainable  j>criod,  a  part  of  a  round  structure  imme- 
diately commanding  tJie  shore.  The  sea  is  only  thirty 
yards  off  to  our  left,  and  ihc  mountain  side  not  more  than 


tS8 


SITE  OP   AKCIEXT   SODOM. 


twenty  in  the  opposite  direction.  The  sight  of  this  bund- 
ing impresses  tue  strongly,  and  ray  thoughts  revert  to 
Sodom.  I  question  Abou-Daotik  ;  "  What  is  that  V 
"  QasrQadim "  ("  Aa  ancient  castle  "),  is  the  answer. 
"The  nameT  "Redjom-el-Mezorrhel'*  (the  heap  of 
&llen  stones.) 

On  this  identical  spot  Colonel  r^apie  has  placed  Tbamara. 
I  know  not  in  what  narrative  he  has  found  mention  of  this 
niin,  which  tic  calU  TclI-cI-Msoggal.  All  I  can  say  on  the 
subject  is.  that  in  the  map  of  Egypt,  Arabia  Petrxa,  and 
Syria,  published  by  llerisson  (At  Jcan'n,  rue  SaJnt-Jean- 
dc-Bcauvais,  No.  10),  I  find  marked  at  the  south-wcitom 
point  of  the  Dead  Sea,  and  coDse(|uently  in  a  correct  locality, 
tliis  same  Tell-el-Msoggal. 

For  myself,  I  entertain  no  doubt  that  I  s&o  before  me  the 
ndns  of  a  building  which  was  anciently  a  part  of  Sodom. 
The  Schcikh,  Abou-Daouk,  is  very  explicit  on  this  point 
"When  I  ask  him  "  Where  was  the  town  of  Sodom  V  he 
answers  me,  "  Here."  "  And  did  this  ruin  belong  to  the 
condemned  cityT  "Sahihh"  ("Assuredly").  "Ar« 
there  other  vestiges  of  Sodom  t"  "  N4am  I  Fih  khcrabal 
ktir"  ("  Yes,  there  are  a  great  many ").  "  Where  are 
they  1"  "Hon  oua  hon"  ("There,  and  there"),  and  he 
points  to  the  extremity  of  the  salt  mountain  which  we 
have  just  wound  along,  and  the  plain,  planted  with 
acacias,  extending  to  the  foot  of  the  mountain  towards 
the  Ouad-ez-Zoucra.  jlilost  unr»rttmately  it  is  now  too 
late  to  retrace  our  steps,  and  take  a  cursory  glimpse  of 
these  ruins,  even  for  a  moment.  But  the  waniing  will 
serve ;  and  aa  wc  shall  return  this  way  in  a  few  days,  I 
purpose  to  look  out  more  carefully,  and  to  examine  into 
these  ruins  to  which  our  gallant  Schcikh  has  called  my 


CAVEKN    OF    El,-MonHAKHAIi. 


sr>7 


attention.     I  reallj  think  1  fuel  more  pleasure  in  know- 
ing tliat   I   slifill   then   be  enabled  to  eontcmpUtc  the 
remaiiui  of  the  ct'Iobrated  Sodom,  than  I  feel  regret  in 
having  now  only  seen  tliis  kind  of  advance  post,  placed 
[like  a  light-house   close   to   the  sca-slorc.  ajid   called 
[  3todjom-eI-MezoiThi>].    The  halt  at  the  camel's  pit,  the 
I  admonition  of  Abou-Daouk,  and  the  iiiicasine»>  caused  by 
irapmdcnco  of  my  companions,  naturally  prevented 
from  examining  the    base  and  declivity  of  the  salt 
•jnountaia  ^ith  as  nnich  care  as  I  should  have  done  under 
other  ciraimstances.     On  the  return  of  our  sportsmen  we 
resumed  our  man-h  vrith  increased  si)ced  to  make  up  for 
Lthe  time  lost.     I  now  begin  to  lecture  the  rash  wanderers 
myself,  and  this  additional  avocation  consoles  me  for  the 
Jiegligcnco  I  ho   bitterly  regret,    but   wliich    I    hope   to 
retrieve  on  our  return.    During  the  next  hour  wo  con- 
[tinue  marching  over  the  same  light  and  efflorescent  soiL 
llctweou  the  salt  mountain  and  the  sea ;  keeping  nearly 
it  the  same  distance  from  either  ;  about  fifty  yards  from 
the    shore,   and  thirty  from  the  cliffs.     Thus  we  livind 
lAlong  the  uneven  fl.iiik  of  tho  mountain,  which  at  the 
Bommit  scarcely  exceeds  one  himdred  yards  in  height. 
["When  opposite  the  Redjom-el-Mezorrhol  our  course  was 
DUth-east ;  eleven    minutes  later  wc   tiu^ed   to  south- 
Paouth  ea^t ;  then  for  tweuty  minutes  again  alternately 
outh-east  and  south-south-east,  until  by  h.-ilf-past  eleven 
5ur   direction    became   south-.south-west ;    at    forty-eight 
minutes  past  eleven  wo  march  south -south-east  again. 

At  eight  minutes  before  twelve  wc  stop  to  breakfast, 
close  to  a  cavern  which,  we  are  told,  penetrates  tho 
mountain  of  Sodom  from  one  side  to  the  other.  It  is 
callcid    Hl-Atorharrah,    meaning    simply,    tlie   grotto,    or 


SBS 


PYRAMIDAL   PILLARS  0?  SALT. 


cave.  Hero,  Abou-Daouk  tctU  us,  the  robbers  resort  for 
refuge,  who  wat«h  to  plunder  the  few  travellers  venturing 
across  this  country.  Unhappy  thiorcsl  they  must  lire 
poorly  iiiiicocl  if  they  have  no  other  provision  than  the 
produce  of  their  rapine  1  At  any  rate,  they  have  but  a 
(IiHtnal  habitation  in  the  cave,  before  which  we  liave  halted 
to  cat  some  starved  fowl  and  mildewed  bread. 

One  word  concemiug  the  general  aspect  of  the  salt 
mountain.  The  Djebel-cl->tulolih,  or  DjcbcUSdoum, 
prcscuts  a  compact  mass  of  rock  salt,  the  height  of 
which  varies,  hut  never  exceeds  one  hundred  yards.  It 
is  ofagrnyish  colour,  but  the  upper  layers  are  tinged 
with  green  aud  red.  At  the  summit,  (he  salt  is  corered 
over  by  a  Btratura  of  clay  of  a  dirty  white  hue.  In 
some  parts  we  observe,  very  distinctly,  the  snmc  kind 
of  green  sandy  cminencca  which  we  have  so  often  met 
since  we  left  Sebbeli.  The  whole  of  the  hill-side  we 
have  just  coasted  presents  numerous  fissures  hollowed 
by  the  winter  torrents,  and  tlic  constant  crumbling  of 
the  soil  At  many  points  appear  vast  pyramidal 
columns  of  salt,  one  of  which  has  no  doubt  been  taken 
by  Captain  Lynch  for  the  famous  pillar  into  which  Lot's 
wife  was  transformed  at  the  time  of  the  destruction  of 
Sodom.  All  the  disconnected  maascs,  and  those  which 
still  adhere  to  the  mountain,  have  their  surfaces  deeply 
furrowed  and  indented  by  the  rains.  And  lastly, 
wherever  the  rock  leans  over,  ite  lower  part  is  hung 
with  stalactites  of  salt.  As  to  the  pilkr  mentioned  by 
Captain  Lynoh.  its  resembles  anything  you  pleAse, 
excepting  the  hilt  of  Sodom. 

Is  it  possible  to  explain  the  death  of  Lot's  wife  t  I 
am  inclined  to  bcUeve  xo,  and  this  wottid  be  my  solution. 


i 


AtABM  or    ROHBKKts 


35» 


At  tiio  inomotit  wlion  tJio  buge  mouiitAiii  was  lieavcd  up 
rolcanically,  there  must  have  been  throughout  its  whole 
extent  tremendotia  falLt  of  detached  tnasse-s,  Hiinilar 
to  tUoso  we  have  obscrvcil  at  every  step.  Lot's  wife 
having  loitered  behind,  either  through  fright  or  curiosity, 
was  most  hkely  crushed  by  one  of  these  descending 
firagmcDts,  and  when  Lot  and  his  children  turned  round 
to  look  towards  the  place  where  Bhe  had  stopped, 
they  savf  nothing  but  the  salt  rock  which  covered  her 
body.  The  cataali-ophe  may  be  exi^iained  in  many 
ways,  but  having  visited  the  spot.  I  hold  lo  the  opinion 
I  have  now  advanced,  without  seeking,  however,  to 
impose  it  on  others. 

By  a  Httle  more  than  half-past  twelve  we  mount  our 
horses  again,  and  proceed,  in  criose  order,  in  a  south- 
80Uth-east  direction.  Scarcely  have  we  been  two  or 
three  minuies  on  the  march,  when,  at  tJic  entrance  of  a 
sunken  plain,  covered  with  saline  incniBtations.  an 
unusual  movement  takes  place  in  our  caravan.  Abou- 
Daouk  and  the  other  horsemen  start  forward  at  a 
gallop,  ilamdao,  who  ha.s  turned  as  pale  as  death, 
follows  them  almost  immediately,  and  our  iufiintry.  who 
have  hn.sttly  nnslung  their  guns,  and  tucked  up  their 
skirts  to  give  a  greater  freedom  to  their  motions,  range 
themselves  ai-ounJ  their  respective  Si;Iit?iklis,  One,  who 
had  lingered  a  little  in  the  rear,  comes  running  at  full 
speed  whilst  preparing  his  weapon,  for  fear  he  ahould 
be  accused  of  having  remained  intentionally  behind  at 
such  a  moment.  "  Well,  what's  the  matter  1"  I  inquire 
of  Mohammed,  who  has  drawn  close  to  me,  and  like  the 
others  has  prepared  hU  fiLsil.  "Yon  can  see  them." 
"Sec  whom  V    "  Robbers  1    These  aie  the  Ahouethats  !" 


260 


TRIBE  OP  TOE  AUOtlKTHATS. 


At  tlint  momont  I  coulJ  sec  nbsotiitdy  noUiing.  but  iii  a 
few  Hccontbi  after  1  perceived  about  thirty  ill-looking 
fellows  on  foot,  nearly  naked,  but  armed  nith  tnatclilocks, 
jataglians,  and  dabbous  (wooden  clubs).  We  had 
evidently  fallen  in  with  had  company. 

Di  a  momoul  oiir  guns  ■were  cocked,  and  our  pistols 
in  hand.  Our  ba^agti  mules  and  moukris  in  a  nuiss, 
some  paces  behind  us.  advanced  unwillingly.  As  Abou- 
Daouk  came  up  to  the  brigands,  they  were  sitting  on  a 
siaall  sandy  ledge,  clutcliiug  tlioir  weapons.  A  colloquy 
liad  already  begun  between  them,  when  we  reached  the 
Bceno  of  action  in  close  platoon.  When  they  spied  our 
ample  provi^iion  of  double-barrelled  guns,  and  pintoLs, 
the  rascals  thought  it  more  prudent  to  parley  tliau  to 
attack  us.  Abou-Daouk  had  already  said  briefly,  "  In 
half  a  minute  you  will  be  killed  to  the  last  man;"  and 
wlien  they  became  convinced  that  such  a.  result  wna  more 
tlmn  probable,  they  changed  tlieir  manner.  Then  all 
rising,  each  drew  near  to  one  of  our  men,  took  liijn  by  tlie 
hand,  and  totiching  foreheads,  embraced  several  tiroes, 
like  loving  brothers. 

It  was  tlien  forty-nine  minutes  past  twelve.  Peace 
being  declared,  our  new  friends  oil'cretl  the  hospitality 
of  their  encampment;  and  while  we  were  hesitating  as 
to  our  compliance,  two  new  cavaliers  galloped  towards 
us,  and  joined  in  conversation.  The  one  was  Abou- 
Daouk's  brother,  the  other  a  young  man  of  fivo  or  sis 
and  twenty,  called  Sellam-el-Lahman,  Scheikh  of  the 
marauders,  with  whom  we  had  just  begun  to  make 
acquaintance. 

Abou-Daouk's  brother,  as  I  have  already  said,  had 
gone  on  in  advance,   to  Ronnd  the  dispositions   of  Uie 


TUB  SCIlEIKn  SELLAM. 


2»t 


tribes  establislied  on  the  opposite  shore  of  Uie  Demi 
Seft.  in  the  Uhur-Safieh,  wliere  we  purposed  encamping 
this  same  evening.  The  first  Uviug  beings  he  ImJ  met 
were  these  Alioucthats,  whose  tents  wore  pitched  in  the 
Rh<"ir,  at  the  outlet  of  the  niuJiI^'  plain  before  u«,  anil 
which  wc  have  to  j>ass  through.  He  had  placed  liiiusdf 
in  comnmnication  with  their  Scheikh,  Sellam,  who  had 
consented  to  receive  us  in  his  cncampiueiit,  under  the 
promise  of  a  bakhshish.  His  faithful  subjects  had  then 
declared  tliey  wouhl  liavo  their  share,  otluji-wise  they 
would  intercept,  attack,  kill,  and  plunder  us.  "  You  shall 
have  nothing  at  all,"  answered  ijellam.  "  Go,  and  much 
good  may  it  do  you." 

The  advice  of  Ahou-Daouk's  brother  had  determined 
SeUam  to  take  no  part  in  a  fray  where  his  men  were  sure 
to  get  nothing  but  broken  headM,  and  thus  it  wa,s  they  had 
arrived  just  at  the  spot  where  they  expected  to  help 
themselves  at  our  expense.  I  have  said  how  their  evil 
designs  were  speedily  abandoned,  and  how  they  were  wise 
enough  to  prefer  peace  to  war. 

Soltani  came  towards  me,  afler  a  few  wonls  with  his 
banditti,  which  I  did  not  understand  ;  he  took  tno 
tenderly  by  the  tip  of  my  beard.  Idssed  it  in  the  most 
reverential  manner,  calling  me  his  father,  and  then  began 

caracole  and  mpor  round  us  with  thu  most  engaging 
smile  and  demeanour  jHissiblc.  He  was  mounted  on  a 
small  bay  horse,  witliout  a  Haddle,  and  nothing  in  the 
shape  of  harness  but  a  small  piece  of  wliipcord  ;  yet  still 
he  contrived  to  manage  his  charger  with  wonderful  sgiUty. 
His  drasR  consisted  of  a  short  gray  cloth  shirt,  and  a 
kafieh.  On  liis  left  side  was  suspended  a  straight 
yataghan,  the  sheath  formed  of  two  thin  plates  of  wood 


262 


KADKHAH.   OS   ri.AlK   OP   TilS  SALT   HUD. 


boond  togetlicr  with  picct.-^  of  packtltrcad.  But  though 
the  S<!heikh'8  accoiitrciiients  were  miserable  in  the 
extreme,  his  air  was  graceful,  ood  all  his  motions  were  in 
Biich  perfect  tuirmony  with  those  of  his  horse,  that  the 
group  scorned  a  U^nug  frugnieut  of  tlic  fricscs  of  the 
Parthon<Mi. 

All  that  I  have  just  related  took  place  within  four 
minuUM),  atui  by  fifty-tbrco  minutes  jiast  twelve  we 
resumed  our  march,  directly  across  the  plain  opeuing 
before  us,  in  a  south-south>w(;»t  direction.  The  side  of 
the  Salt  Mountain  was  then  a  hundred  yards  distant  to 
our  right ;  we  went  on  flanking  it,  but  increasing  our 
distance  until  uearly  half-past  one,  when  wo  found  our- 
selves opposite  it*>  soutlieni  extremity,  and  at  a  distance 
of  eight  hvmdred  yards.  Beyond  re-appeared  again  the 
everlasting  liillocka  of  green  sand,  so  strongly  resembling 
ruins.  The  ground,  over  which  we  were  advancing  with 
difltculty,  WAS  muddy  and  yielding,  a  naked  plain,  dastitiite 
of  vegetatiun.  This  plain  i»  called  the  Sabkhah  {the  plain 
of  the  salt  mud). 

IJy  thii-ty-one  minutes  past  one  wc  crossed  the  wide 
bed  of  a  river  with  much  water — most  probably  tlie  Ouad- 
el-Feekreh  of  M.  de  Bcrton  ;  but  none  of  our  Arabs  are 
acquainted  with  that  name.  Thin  watercounje,  and  those 
we  met  a  little  farther  on,  are  called  among  them  Ksh- 
Cholluiah  (tho  rapidn).  Having  gained  tlie  opposite 
bank,  we  turned  east-t<outli-ea&t,  then  almost  immediately 
due  east. 

The  Ahouuthatji  liavc  left  us,  witli  the  exception  of 
their  Scheikh.  Sellam,  and,  quickening  their  pace,  hare 
gained,  much  fa^ster  than  we  can,  the  eastern  side  of  the 
Dead  Sea.    An  immense    thicket  of   reeds  lies    some 


SABKHAH,  OB   PLAIN  OF   THE   SALT   HDD. 


2«3 


thousaud  jards  in  our  front ;  tliis  tliicket  divides  the 
Sabkimb  from  the  Rlior-Safioh,  wlicre  our  new  friends  are 
encamped,  on  whose  faithful  co-operatiou  wc  have  not  yet, 
I  confess,  unlimited  reHance,  Sellani  continues  capering 
round  us,  repeating  his  protesUtion.s  of  loyalty ;  but  I 
read  in  the  somewhat  anxious  looks  of  Abou-Daouk  and 
Hamdan,  that  the  fine  phrases  of  their  brother  Sclicikh 
are  coin  of  no  great  current  vahie  in  their  eyes ;  instinc- 
tively, we  all  understand  tliat  henceforth  we  had  better 
keep  a  sharp  look-out. 

To  our  right  we  hare  a  range  of  high  hills  hounding  OR 
the  south  the  Sabkliah,  through  which  we  are  passing 
The  foot  of  tlicso  hilts  seems  woody,  as  far  as  wc  can 
judge  from  a  distance  of  between  five  and  six  miles  at 
the  least,  and  the  trees  wo  distinguish  are  evidently  tlie 
continuation  of  the  copse  overspreading  the  Rh6r-Safieh 
before  us. 

By  twelve  minutes  past  two  wo  hare  crossed  other 
watercourses,  tolerably  rapid,  and  running  directly  from 
south  to  north,  until  they  empty  tliemsolves  into  the  Dead 
Sea.  Our  ground  is  difficult  of  passage,  saturated  witli 
moisture,  and  as  slippery  as  soap.  Our  horses  sink  in  it 
fetlock  deep,  and  cannot  get  rid  of  the  adliesive  mud 
which  clings  to  them  every  step.  We  ride  in  Indian  file, 
and  follow  exactly  the  track  of  our  Arab  leaders.  The 
procaution  is  indispensable,  fur  the  bogs  arc  numerous  in 
tbis  desolate  phun,  and  it  would  be  exceedingly  disagree- 
able to  be  engulphed  in  the  mire. 

Uy  thirty-six  minutes  past  two  we  make  a  sharp  turn 
to  cross  another  very  large  watercourse,  running  from 
south-west  to  north-east.  We  then  move  eastward,  and 
by  forty-nine  minutes  past  two  we  plunge  amongst  the 


it* 


THB  Bh6r-9APIBH. 


reedfli  wbtcb  arc  Iicrc  of  eucb  cnonnouH  Iiciglii,  und  Kt 
densely  plaiitc<i  that  vc  liare  great  difficulty  in  keeping 
together.  The -Mioiictbats  would  have  a  fine  cbaiice  of 
picking  lui  ufT,  man  by  man,  if  llicy  bad  couccivod  tha 
uotioD,  and  we  speculate  witli  some  little  anxiety  on  tbc 
i*eal  motive  of  their  siiddpn  start  in  advance,  leaving  us 
to  tbread  tliis  confounded  defilo  of  reeds,  vrhci-c  you  can 
searcely  keep  sight  of  yonr  preceding  file,  and  your 
imiucdiatc  follower. 

After  some  minutes  the  reeds  disappear,  tbo  ground 
becomes  a  little  firmer,  and  we  enter  fairly  on  the  Itbur-  fl 
Saficb.  This  time  wo  are  in  an  actual  forest ;  but  of 
a  most  novel  description.  It  consists  of  clumps  of  slender 
tnmlts  of  trees,  entwined  and  huddled  together  like  the 
sticks  in  a  fngot.  Thousands  of  prickly  branches  inter- 
lace each  other  around  these  irapcuctrablo  clusters, 
forming  countless  thickets,  several  feet  in  diameter ; 
thickets  which  you  caimot  pass  wilJiout  leaving  portions 
of  your  dre-ss  suspended  from  the  thorns.  In  Uie 
intcrvitls  between  the  thickets,  the  damp  greasy  soil  is 
covered  with  dry  stalks,  tbc  gigantic  stubble  of  List 
season's  harvest.  Everywhere  the  ground  is  raked  up  by 
the  wild  boars  abounding  in  tbu  Kbor,  and  Uving  there  OQ 
the  fat  of  the  land,  but  always  having  aii  eye  on  tbc  hostile 
panthers.  Ujjon  all  the  upper  branches  perch  beautiful 
little  pink  doves,  who  look  at  us,  as  wc  go  by,  with 
perfect  indifference,  and  who  are  evidently  on  terms  of 
complete  understanding  with  tJie  Bedouins.  Here  and 
there,  humming-birds,  with  ruby  and  emerald  frills,  flutter 
from  tree  to  tree,  disturbed  by  the  noise  we  make  in 
trcjuling  over  the  dry  stalks,  rather  than  frightened  by 
the  approach  of  any  famiUai"  danger. 


A 


SSCAMMlltST  or  THE  AnoT!ETnAT9. 


265 


As  we  arc  now  altogether  in  a  uew  wopI<i,  our  sports- 
men arc  much  lUaposeU  tu  assail  sonic  of  the  birds  wc  arc 
admiring ;  but  I  strictly  forbid  a  single  sliot,  -for  the 
»bg)ite!>t  alarm  in  a  |jlace  like  this  might  bring  on  a 
disagreeable  collision.  IJcsidcs,  we  pei-ccive  distinctly 
oa  our  flanks,  through  the  small  glades,  troops  of  armed 
Bodoniiu),  and  we  are  not  quite  suro  whether  they  are 
friends  or  enemies  watching  for  a  favom^ble  opportunity 
of  sending  a  ball  through  each  of  our  heads.  "We 
I'cmain  on  our  guard,  altliougli  the  L^choikli,  kjcllam,  is 
continuing  his  fautasia,  stopping  only  now  and  ttien  to 
take  me  delicately  by  the  beard,  wiih  the  tip  of  his 
iiugor4,  and  then  kisses  it  in  token  of  respect.  At  last 
we  arrive  at  an  opening  in  the  forest,  where  the  trees 
have  been  cleared  by  men  and  beasts  ;  in  ever)'  direction 
small  black  tents,  three  or  four  feet  high  at  the  utmost, 
are  suspended  from  the  thickets,  and  we  alight  at  last  in 
a  glade  in  the  very  centre  of  tlie  encampmimt ;  the  grand 
square  of  the  present  cajiital  of  the  Abuucthats. 

The  men  who  were  running  along  the  flank  of  our 
column  arrive  at  the  same  time.  Wc  recognise  in  them 
our  Thaanicras  and  Bjalialina,  who,  fearing  an  ambuscade, 
iuid  been  beating  the  bushes  to  tlio  right  and  left,  like 
practised  skirmisiiers.  We  must  now  put  our  trust  in 
Providence ;  for  wo  are  in  the  wolf's  mouth,  and  have 
gone  too  far  to  retreat. 

Ill  a  twinkling,  Nellani  lias  tied  bin  little  bay  horse  to 
hi»  tenl,  and  comes  back  to  us  bounding  through  tlio 
bushes.  He  begins  by  pushing  aside,  haughtily  enough, 
alt  Iiis  people  who  are  flocking  around  ua,  with  the 
curionty  of  savages  who  have  never  seen  Europeans. 
lu  the   number  we  recognise  the  sinister-looking  fac<.-» 


266 


SUSPICIOUS   rBlKMDS. 


wc  bail  already  gazed  on  with  so  little  satisfaction  some 
hours  before,  at  the  Djet>eI-el-Melehh ;  and  amongst 
others  a  tall,  vill»iiioiu>ly-fcaturud  negro,  for  whom  each  of 
118,  in  s^-mpaUictic,  hut  silent  accord,  had  reserved  our 
rery  first  bullet.  All  these  good  folks  retain  their  arms. 
We  imitate  their  prudent  example,  and  allow  the  most 
curious  to  adnii]-e  our  guns  and  pistols  white  the  tents 
being  pitched. 

Scllam  traces  a  line  round  our  camp,  which  he  forbids 
his  tribe  to  cross ;  this  ceremony  over,  be  tells  us  that 
within  the  iuclosure  we  are  under  his  protection,  and  safe 
against  any  attempt  at  robbery.  It  turns  out  as  be 
ays ;  the  Ahouethats  respect  our  liniitji,  and  though 
icy  throug  about  the  cucampment,  and  exhibit  innoy 
forbidding  feces,  we  soon  get  reconciled  to  their  tenacious, 
curio^dty. 

Some  minutes  after  Scllam  re-appears,  dragging  in  two 
sheep,  which  he  presents  to  me  as  a  gift,  and  prepares 
inmicdiately  to  slatighter  at  my  foot,  to  do  me  honour  ;  I 
request  him  to  exhibit  his  skill  in  butchery  a  httle  further 
off.  Three  paces  suffice,  and  there  he  sets  roundly  to 
work,  with  the  assiataiico  of  two  or  tlircc  coufcdoratcs 
similar  taste  :  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  still  panting 
carcasseH  of  the  poor  animalu  arc  handed  over  to  lilatteo, 
to  the  iuj)nit«  satutfactiou  of  our  Arabs,  who  catch  at  last 
a  ghmpse  of  the  long-promised  festival,  till  now  always 
postponed  to  the  next  opportunity,  tliat  never  came. 

After  his  present  of  the  sheep,  ScUani,  who  perfectly 
uuderstaiifls  the  duties  of  hospitality,  visits  us  once  mor^ 
accompanied  by  his  son.  an  urchin,  three  or  four  years 
old,  in  K(Wity  garments  tike  his  fatlier,  and  carrying 
between  his  hauds  a  wooden  porringer,  intotciably  dirty, 


SP8PICI0U9  raiBHIW. 


but  filled  witJi  camel's  milk.  Not  to  taste  it  would  hare 
been  a  mort^t  affront.  I  therefore  ^ut  my  eyes  and 
drink,  without  wry  faces,  and  pass  the  pon-iiiger  to  my 
next  hand  neighbour.  Each  in  his  turn  (\nn.ffs  the  share 
he  would  too  willingly  relinntilsh  to  his  cunipaiiioiis. 

When  we  have  at  lust  got  rid  of  Sellam,  Hamdan.  who 
has  his  suspicions,  advises  us  to  be  watchful  and  keep 
strictly  oa  our  guard.  Abou-Daou^  repoat«i  tbo  same 
intion,  hut  his  good-humoured  fat  face  has  not  lost  an 
iliom  of  its  UiiUHl  serenity.  His  ophthalmia  is  cured,  so 
for  the  present  he  is  too  happy  to  be  afraid  of  anything. 
He  tseems  constitutionally  unused  to  fear,  and  laughs  aa 
heartily  to-day  as  yesterday,  exhibiting,  as  usual,  his  two 
interminable  teeth.  "  Thou  art  dweltiiig  just  now,"  says 
he,  "  with  abominable  Tillaiii-s ;  all  tlic»e  Ahouethats 
are  thieves  of  the  first  water,  but  wo  shall  certainly 
prevent  them  from  robbing  thee  of  anything :  only  let 
me  warn  thee  agaiust  rambling  away  from  tbo  camp, 
lest  some  misfortune  might  befal  tliee."  Hamdan.  whose 
physiognomy  is  Kingularly  pale  and  nnxiouH,  baa  tliought 
proper  to  lay  aside  his  turban,  and  to  give  himself  as 
complete  a  Bedouin  look  as  pos-sible.  by  mounting  a 
kaficli,  after  the  faaliion  of  our  hosts,  covering  his  head 
aud  binding  it  around  his  tarbouch  with  a  cord  of 
camels'  hair. 

Wliikt  our  people  are  pitching  the  tents,  the  escort  cut 
down  copse-woud  suflicicul  for  tlie  fires  of  our  kitchen  and 
the  bivouacs.  Our  two  sheep  are  roasting  in  grand  style, 
and  £dward,  l'hili[)pe,  and  I  take  advantage  of  this 
moment  of  liberty  to  gather  a  rich  botanical  harvest  in 
the  surrounding  thicket.  Here  the  Asdepim  procfira 
rc-appesrs  in  immense  quantities,  mixed  with  the  Neu&q 


268 


SUSI'ICIODS   rRIEKnA. 


nnd  the  Areg,  kc.,  shniba  almost  unknown  in  Kurojw. 
Amungst  the  buishcs  I  find  also  a  pretty  little  gourd  or 
]uimpkui ;  tlic  finiit  long,  the  leaves  and  etalk  as  rough  to 
the  touch  as  a  grater,  niiining  from  branch  to  branch,  and 
dinging  so  tenaciously,  that  it  is  very  difficult  to  gather 
it;  lastly,  the  indigo  plant  in  great  abundance. 

Our  botaniaing  is  soon  over ;  for  every  IJuic  we  happen 
to  stniy  ten  yards  from  tlie  tents,  one  of  our  Thilameras 
or  Djahalins  runs  to  intreat  us  to  turn  bock  and  avoid 
exposing  oursolveji  to  accident.  We  foci  much  inclined 
to  neglect  these  waruiugs.  which  we  consider  superfluou.% 
so  ready  are  wo  always  to  dishelievo  a  ilanger  until  we 
actually  encounter  it ;  but  luckily  daylight  declines 
rapidly,  and  wc  determine  then  to  follow  their  advice 
for  good  and  all. 

No  sooner  arc  wo  back  again  than  we  begin,  stupidly 
enough,  to  expatiate  on  the  hospitaUty  of  the  Ahouethata. 
"  After  all,  they  are  a  good  sort  of  people,"  we  say  to 
each  other  "  and  wlial  primitive  manners  I  How  identical 
witli  all  we  have  read  in  the  Bible :  the  life  of  the 
patriarchs  restored ;  'tis  admirable."  I  abstain  from 
tiring  the  reader  with  a  long  story  of  our  absunl 
enthusiasm,  for  we  ought  to  have  been  better  adviaod, 
and  less  ready  with  our  admiration. 

Putting  all  things  together,  another  day  Itos  passed 
witli  only  an  Imaginary  alarm  ;  and  wc  e.\pect  a  constant 
repetition  of  the  saiue — an  honourable  confidence,  no 
doubt,  but  which  soon  subsides  as  we  become  more 
intimate  with  the  parties  with  whom  we  have  to  deal. 

After  our  dinner,  which  passes  over  merrily,  we  set 
to  work,  as  usual,  arranging  our  notes  and  acquisitions  of 
the   day  ;    then  we   compose  oursches  to  sleep  witjiout 


A   UAPACIOUS  SCHBIKIf. 


se« 


iinca&incss.  I  only  remark  that  our  little  array  whicli  at 
Scbbcli  sang  and  daiicod  for  joy  at  the  mere  promise 
of  a  sheep  which  nevor  came,  neither  sings  nnr  thinces 
this  livcuiug,  thougii  the  ahecp  has  been  devoured. 
Nobody  sleeps  round  the  watch-fires  ;  it  seems  decidedly 
that  our  position  13  less  pleaitant  here  tlian  on  the  opposite 
Hide  of  the  Bead  ^jca. 

Janttary  Xith. 

"We  were  all  on  foot  by  earliest  dawn,  rcsxuning.  with 
the  return  of  day,  our  bright  fancies  of  the  preceding 
evening.  Unfortunately  we  were  not  long  in  rcvci-siug 
the  medal,  and  finding  the  unpleasant  8i<lc  of  patriarchal 
manners. 

I  had,  as  usual,  left  my  tent  to  take  the  bearings  of  the 
principal  mountains  and  valleys  lying  before  us.  Ahouad 
nnd  sonic  of  tJie  Ahouethiits  were  giving  nie  the  names  I 
wanted.  I  was  busy  with  my  notes  ajid  angles,  and 
deploring  the  necessity  of  passing  on,  without  having 
leisiu^  to  visit  the  ruin  of  Safieh  (which  ruin,  situated 
on  a  small  low  hill,  south-east  of  our  camp,  strongly 
resembled  the  Qaliat-Eniban-heg),  when  I  am  joined  by 
llamJan.  who,  witli  a  most  dejected  look,  entreats  mo 
to  return  to  my  tent  and  listen  to  what  he  has  to  say 
to  nie. 

The  patriarchs  liavc  sent  in  tlicir  bill  of  charges.  This 
means  that,  before  we  are  allowed  to  dejmrtv  wo  shall  Iiave 
to  repay,  in  good  sterling  pia-stres,  the  pastoral  hospiuility 
of  our  knavish  friends.  Hamd^m  and  Abou-Daouk  hai-o 
been  already  discussing,  for  the  last  hour,  our  endangered 
interests,  and  our  amiable  hosts  insist  tliat  wc  must  give 
them  all  the  cn&h  wc  can  spare.  Krery  soul,  from  the 
highest  to  the  lowest  personage  in  the  tribe,  claims  his 


£70 


A   ItAPACTOtrs  SCHRIKH. 


share  of  our  eutrauce  money.  aiiJ  evcrv  one  very  naturally 
expects  that  his  share  shall  be  as  large  as  posablo  ;  other- 
wise, these  genUemcn.  who  feel  infinitely  honoured  by  our 
society,  are  disposed  to  enjoy  it  for  some  time  longer, 
whicli  means  that  they  will  not.  permit  us  to  leave  the 
place  except  on  Uieir  own  terms.  The  affair  becomea 
serious.  Wc  arc  strong  enough,  it  is  tnie,  to  force  our 
way  through  the  rabble  forming  the  encampment  in  wliicJi 
vc  have  taken  a  temporary  dwellin|^  but  who  knows  if 
other  encampments  of  the  same  tribe,  dispersed  in  the 
Ehor,  have  not  been  warned  already  to  come  to  their 
awdataiice  ?  In  thatcase,  could  we  ever  come  back  by  the 
Sahkliah.  without  being  shot  dowu  to  the  last  man  by  tlie 
Ahouethats  ?  Evidently  we  coidd  not.  It  is  wiser,  there- 
fore, to  submit  with  a  good  grace  and  disburse,  while  we 
dispute  obstinately  the  rat*  at  which  our  generosity  is  to 
be  taxed.  Tlic  countenances  of  our  robbera  hare  assumed 
an  insolent  expression,  which  is  by  no  means  encouraging. 
Like  true  Bedouins,  they  scream  and  howl  all  together  as 
if  they  were  at  the  stake.  The  barrier  is  no  longer  re- 
spected. The  noisy  crow  invade  our  camp,  anned  with 
guns,  yataghans,  and  cliibs^*  They  daro  not,  as  yet,  make 
a  nish  into  our  tents,  but  it  is  plain  they  will  do  so  before 
long  if  we  arc  not  expeditious  in  our  arrangements. 

SelUm  makes  liis  entrance.  He  kisgcs  my  beard  ten 
times  in  succxjssion,  and  calls  me.  more  affectionately  than 
ever,  his  father.  He  then  proceeds  to  business.  "  My 
people  are  very  poor."  says  he,  "  thou  art  powerful  and 
rich  ;  give  them  all  thou  liast  to  give."  1  dare  not  digmJHt 
him  abruptly,  and  I  try  to  cajole  him  with  small  presents 
which,  they  say,  promotes  friendship.  He  wants  a  keep- 
sake— nothing  more !     He  is  so  devoted   to  tne !     lie 


Bumoca  PBics  foe  a  gift. 


zn 


lores  me  so  dearly !    And  Uiorcupon  he  kisses  my  beard 
over  and  over  again. 

I  send  for  the  bag  coiitaininjj  our  stock  of  trinkotfi  and 
intended  presents,  aud  open  the  question.  "  Since  thou 
art  the  fatlier  of  a  little  boy  who  yesterday  offered  me 
some  milk,  thou  must  have  a  wife." 

"I  hare  three!" 

Ahis!  thought  I,  without  venturmg  to  express  my 
thoughts.  *•  Three  wives,  Sellam  1  they  arc  too  nume- 
rous!" 

"  Oh,  no  !  I  shall  soon  liavc  four  1" 

I  shorten  our  colloquy,  lest  he  shoidd  demand  mam'age 
presents  for  live  or  six  prospective  nuptialn,  and  produce 
my  proposed  donations  :  conicUau  rings  set  in  silver ;  seals 
of  the  same  value,  which  I  recommended  as  eligible  for  a 
splendid  pair  of  car-ringa ;  a  silver  watch,  worth  about 
six  francs  ;  and  lastly,  an  elastic  silver  bracelet,  of  very 
light  weight.  He  balances  the  whole,  and  is  by  no  means 
Batisfied.  "  Is  it  silver  ? "  says  he.  "  Certainly."  "  How 
light  it  is !"     "  Because  the  silver  is  very  pure." 

SelUm  looks  at  mc  as  much  as  to  say.  Do  you  take  me 
for  a  fool  1  I  certainly  had  no  idea  of  giving  him  all  1 
had  e.\liibited,  hut  he  luid  not  the  most  remote  idea  of 
relinquishing  an  item ;  he  crams  the  sum  total  into  his 
shirt,  affecb!  to  be  pleased,  and,  kissing  my  beard  again, 
retires  from  the  tent 

I  fancy  I  am  now  rid  of  him  ;  rid  of  a  Bedouin  who 
intends  to  grind  you!  the  idea  is  chimerical.  In  five 
minutes  after  he  returns  and  shows  the  bracelet,  but,  of 
course,  holding  it  resolutely  in  his  clutch.  "  Whore  is  his 
brother  t"  says  he.  "  If  tliou  ha-st  hut  one,  my  wife  declines 
the  gift,  she  wants  one  for  each  arm."    It  appears  that 


S7S 


A    HEAVY   TAX   TO    ESCAPE  DANQBR. 


brflcclcis  in  tliis  country  are  called  brotbers.  With  a  very 
ill  grace  I  resign  the  bi-oLlicr  he  ilemandf^  and  lie  dis- 
appears again. 

Have  I  done  with  him  this  time'?  Jass  tlian  ever. 
The  pertinacious  rogue  re-appears,  and  says  with  oon- 
sumraate  assurance — "And  for  my  two  sheep  and  my 
milk,  what  art  thou  going  to  give  me  now  1"  I  confess  wc 
ore  all  strougly  tompt<:d  to  kick  him  out  oP  the  tout,  but 
this  Biunmary  proceeding  would  at  once  bring  down 
upon  OS  his  attendant  briganibt.  The  proverb  says, 
you  must  howl  when  others  yell ;  we  therefore  declare 
unanimously,  and  with  loud  voices,  that  on  that  point 
wc  decline  treating  with  him.  The  price  of  the  pro- 
tended gift  is  to  be  discussed  with  Uamdan  and  Mattoo. 
The  Scheikh,  on  this,  leaves  us  hastily  to  go  in  search 
of  iliem. 

Time  wears  on,  and  we  arc  chafing  under  the  delay. 
We  feci,  too,  a  little  ashamed  of  onr  premature  enlogiuma 
on  Bedouin  hospitality.  At  last,  by  nine  o'clock,  and  after 
ten  solemn  negotiations  held  in  ten  different  places — for  it 
appears  that  in  Arab  <TouiicilH  they  shift  their  locality  every 
time  they  alter  a  proposition — Hamdan  and  our  maitrB 
d'hotel  present  thoniHcIvcs,  rather  crest-fallen,  to  annotmce 
that  five  hundred  piastres  will  probably  satisfy  the  Ahoue- 
thats.  "  Five  hundred  piastres  for  two  sheep  and  a  bowl 
of  milk !"  The  price  is  a  little  higher  than  we  had 
expected. 

Francis.  Rothschild's  dragoman,  is  fiirions ;  for  the  last 
few  days  he  has  been  contemplating  with  silent  despair 
our  obstinacy  in  running  into  adventures  :  now  that  wc 
are  in  a  scrape,  through  our  own  imprudence,  accoi-ding 
to  him,  we  ought  to  refuse  everything,  shoot  every  soul  of 


TDK   OUAIHBL-ARIADIl. 


.  273 


and  force  our  wa_v  throiigli.  Fortunately,  we  are 
not  excited  by  bis  heroic  stiggcstiong,  and  since  we  can 
get  out  of  trouble  fi»r  five  liumlrcd  piastres,  let  us  pay  them 

1st  once  and  he  off,  I  ratify  the  bargain  without  a 
moment's  hesitation,  and  our  luggage  is  finally  loaded  on 
the  backs  of  our  mules. 
^  Ilearen  be  praised  !  By  twenty  mimites  past  nine  we 
leave  the  place,  and  should  fee]  quite  at  ease  did  we  not 
perceive  Sellam  and  his  hand  preparing  to  accompany  us. 
What  docs  this  mean  I  wc  cannot  guess,  but  it  disconcerts 

r  exceedingly. 
Our  course  is  north-west,  through  ttie  Khor ;  I  mcai) 
through  those  strange  thickets  of  prickly  trees,  which  I 
have  described  before.  Hy  twenty-eight  minutes  past  nine 
wc  cross  a.  pretty  rivulet  of  running  water,  flowing  from 
south-south-east  to  north-west,  and  called  tbe  Nahr-Sallch. 
At  half-pa^t  nine  we  turn  due  north,  and,  for  the  first 
time,  I  liave  the  pleasure  of  taking  my  notes  without 
being  blinded  by  the  sun. 

At  this  point  a  huge  mass  of  reddish  rocks  rises  in 
riew,  distant  about  three  tliousand  five  hundred  yards. 
This  red  mountain  is  soon  raasqued  by  a  lower  one,  rent 

Knd  'rugged,  and  of  the  deepest  black  tint ;  tliis  last  is 
tily  three  thou-sand  yards  from  ua.  Between  these  two 
eights,  the  dark  colours  of  which  are  strongly  (^(^ntrastGd, 
a  narrow  raliey  opens,  called  the  Ouad-el-Abiadh.  We 
are  still  in  the  forest,  but  we  can  already  distinguish  its 
boundary,  between  us  and  the  mountains  of  Moab.  By 
thirty-seven  minutes  past  nine  we  reach  a  TCry  wide  bed 
of  a  torrent,  with  a  fine  slrcjun  T-uniiing  through  it.  in  the 
direction  where  we  cross  from  south-west  to  north-east^ 
lus  ia  the  Kahr-el-Karaki.     We  tlion  wind  along  the 


274 


TRP.   TRIBE   OP   RBin-fiAKnArjl. 


black  moiintnin  I  have  just  mentioned,  tlie  axis  of  which 
sensibly  approaches  to  oiir  road. 

The  hmit  of  the  Rhdr  (I  give  thia  name  more 
©iclusiTely  ta  the  forest)  is  scarcely  two  liunJrccl  yards 
distant,  on  our  right ;  then  follows  a  rocky  pinin, 
ascending  gently  up  towards  the  foot  of  tlio  mountain. 
Onr  next  course  is  northH^ist.  By  forty-six  minutes  past 
nine  wc  have  Icfl  the  forest,  and  arc  moving  across  a 
plain  strewed  witli  large  boulders  of  red  sandstone.  Our 
route  then  turns  north-north-east,  following  this  direction 
until  ten  o'clock,  then  turning  cast  agmn.  By  scrra 
minutes  past  ten  we  are  opposite  the  northern  point  of 
the  blick  mountain.  Iloro  a  vajit  amphitheatre,  or,  to 
speak  more  properly,  a  crater,  opens  on  tlie  side  of  a 
second  red  mountain,  joining  tlie  former  one  and  with  a 
corrcspouding  axis.  Behind  this  rises  a  still  higher 
mountain,  called  the  Djebel-el-A*aza.  The  ouad  Icodit^ 
to  the  crater  is  called  the  Ouad-el-Zend-jbil.  We  then 
resume  a  north-cast  direction.  The  ouad  is  commanded 
to  the  nortli  by  another  black  mountain,  called  the  CfaS- 
euh-es-Samour. 

By  a  quarter-past  ten  we  turn  our  backs  upon  the 
mountjuns,  and  march  nearly  due  west.  Lastly,  by 
twenty-three  minutes  jiast  ten,  wc  arrive  at  an  encamp- 
ment much  more  important  than  that  of  the  Ahouetliats. 
We  are  now  in  the  district  of  the  Beni-Sakhar,  a  rich 
and  powerful  tribe. — "  El-Beni-Sakhar  koull-houm  nas 
molahh  I"  "All  the  B«ni-Sakhar  are  honest  people^" 
exclaims  Hamdan.  who  .seems  to  be  relieved  from  a  heavy 
burthen,  and,  whilst  speaking,  signs  to  our  moukris  lo 
unload  Uie  mules. 

Why !   we   have  been  only  one  hour  in  motion,  and 


Hoarauw  OP 


lOH  OBDHB. 


27S 


must  wc  halt  alrcndy  ^  Remonstrances  are  useleett — it 
is  impossible  to  proceed  a  step  farther  vrithout  Uie  consent 
ot  our  ticw  hosts ;  we  must,  thci-cfore,  first  of  all  propi- 
tiate their  friendship.  But  let  us  be  cautious.  The 
BeDi-Sakbars  bciug  richer  tluiii  the  Abouetbat^  now  tJiat 
wc  arc  familiar  with  the  local  manners  of  the  people,  wo 
need  no  one  to  tell  us  that  their  friendiilup  will  cost  us  a 
much  larger  aura.  In  tliis  country,  you  travel  as  you 
can,  never  as  yon  please.  We  make  up  our  minds 
accordingly  to  take  tJiuigs  as  they  bappeu,  and  proceed 

pitch  our  camp. 

Still,  tbere  is  the  difl'crence  of  night  HJid  day  between 
the  miserable  beggars  witli  whom  w©  were  staying  last 
t,  and  tlie  Bedouins  in  whose  liamis  we  find  ourselves 
%w  morning.  The  men  have  a  Bupenor  air,  and  some- 
thing like  honeat  countenances.  They  are  better  dressed 
and  better  armed.  Innumerable  droves  of  camels  sur- 
round the  encampment ;  magnificent  horses  are  picketed 
lieforc  some  of  the  tents,  and  long  lances,  testifying  the 

Ewarhke  character  of  their  ownor.t,  are  planted  in  t!io 
ground. 
The  Aboucttiats  appear  not  to  feel  thcmsclve  quite 
at  ease  in  the  midst  of  this  tribe,  who  would  only  have 
to  give  the  signal,  and  they  would  be  annihilated. 
They  appear  as  humble  now,  as  they  were  rude  and 
arrt^nt  two  honre  age. 
Hamdan  and  Abou-Daouk  have  pro(^eeded  at  once  to 
parley  witJi  the  Schcikhs,  who  are  conducted  to  our 
presence ;  at  Lost,  wo  are  introduced  to  something  like 
gentlemen.  Tbeir  dress  is  composed  of  a  long  scarlet 
robo.  confined  round  the  loins  by  a  girdle,  in  whidi  is 
placeil  a  curved  sabre  ;  their  ahayas  or  cloaks  arc  black,  or 

t3 


27fi 


ISTKODCCTION   TO  THR  SHEIKHS. 


I 

I 

I 


stripcJ  white  nm!  brown  ;  like  flamilan  and  Ahou-Daouk, 
thoy  wear  red  boots,  ami  tlioir  heads  are  oovered  with  a 
kafieh,  fastened  by  a  cord  of  camels'  hair.  The  Scheikhs 
are  three  in  number  ;  noac  hut  these  enter  our  t«nt,  and 
I  offer  them  pipes  and  coffee.  The  tribe  remain  at  a 
respcetfiit  distance,  and  restrain  their  curiosity,  however 
natural.  Amongst  the  hundreds  of  which  they  are 
composed,  probably  not  one  has  ever  before  seen  an 
Kuropean.  They  gaze  on  lis  with  bewildered  looks, 
Everytliiiig  in  our  apj>arel  strikcii  them  with  suqnise ; 
the  buttons  of  our  coats  especially  excite  their  wmder ; 
Uicy  touch  tticni  with  a  certain  respect,  and  po^tivety 
take  tfiem  for  so  iiiauy  tnlismans. 

The  one  among  the  Schoikhi;  who  appears  the  most 
courteous,  is  called  Samct-Aly :  a  little  man,  thirty  or 
thirty-two  years  old,  with  a  handsome  fhce  and  gentle 
voice  ;  the  second,  who  seems  to  be  of  equal  ra»k,  is 
named  Selameh  :  he  is  about  five  and  thirty,  but  lie 
squints,  which  gives  him  aik  unpleasant  look  ;  the  third, 
whose  name  is  not  mentioned,  is  an  elderly  Bedouin,  of 
about  fifty.  As  he  preserves  uniform  silence,  and  leaveR  ( 
tbo  other  two  to  conduct  the  conversatiou,  I  conclude  lie 
is  of  inferior  station.  After  half  an  hour's  parley,  the 
three  Scheikhs  leave  us  and  return  to  their  encampment, 
accompanied  by  Abou-Daouk  and  llamdan. 

We  thought  we  were  rid  of  the  Ahouctlmtii,  but  w© 
were  mistaken.  The  five  hundred  piastres  agreed  upon, 
had  been  paid  by  us  iuto  the  handii  of  Ilamdaii,  and  we 
naturally  concluded  that  he  bad  deUveroJ  tlie  money  to 
tluMse  for  whom  it  was  intended.  Kither  he  had  not  done 
80.  or  our  new  friends — the  Scheikhs  of  the  western  shore 
— had  thought  proper  to  levy  a  toll  upon  the  sym   total. 


VISIT  TO  THBIK  EKCAMrilBNT. 


277 


Lt  Any  rate.  t3ie  deuiauds  are  reuewcd  as  uoisily  as  ever. 
Sollani  is  not  the  leaHt  clamgrous  ;  1  reply,  in  a  still 
louder  tone,  that  I  have  giveu  five  hundred  piastres  to 
Iliiindan  for  liiiii  anil  his  people,  and  that  lie  may  go  to 
the  devil,  if  he  is  not  yet  satisfied.  It  jippoars  plain,  the 
worthy  individual  was  not  previously  aware  that  five 
hundred  piastres  had  been  credited  to  him  and  his  band  ; 
for,  on  rcwiving  this  jwyful  information,  he  kissed  my 
beard  once  tnore,  and  bolted  immediately  from  the  tent. 
to  carry  his  demands  to  some  other  quarter. 

At  length  wc  have  tlio  good  fortune  to  be  allowed  to 
breakfast.  Immediately  afterwards,  Samet-Aly  comc»  in 
again  and  invites  rne  to  visit  the  encampment  of  his  tribe. 
Bdward  and  Philippe  accompany  me  ;  Ilothschild  and 
Francis  amuse  themselves  nith  sliootinj^  in  the  immediate 
vicinity  ;  Belly,  LoyscI,  and  Louis  take  tlic  first  Bedouin 
they  moot,  and  look  for  game  in  another  direction  ; 
Hamdan  and  Saniet-Aly  assure  us  there  is  nothing  to 
fear,  so  we  all  pursue  our  lUfferent  courses  in  complete 
sectu'ity.  Wc  first  make  the  circuit  of  the  encampment, 
in  the  centre  of  which  there  is  a  consiilerable  clearing, 
entirely  free  from  tents,  and  forming  a  kmd  of  public 
square.  From  this  open  space  all  the  tents  diverge. 
They  are  oonstructed  of  black,  or  white  and  black  striped 
Ntuff.  Sauict-Aly  leads  its  witli  a  certain  sclf-conoeit>  into 
his  own  tent,  of  tolerable  size,  where  several  women,  old 
and  young,  unifonnly  clothed  in  a  single  blue  shift,  their 
heads,  legs,  aud  arms  bare,  arc  cooking  upon  an  iron  plate 
some  of  the  thin  cakes  which  constitute  the  bread  of  the 
wandering  Arabs.  These  women  have  theu-  hair  greased 
with  butter  and  oil.  until  it  looks  nearly  red,  and  are  any- 
thing    but  attractive.     Some  of  the  youngest  amongst 


278 


ViaiT  TO  THRIK   BSCAMPMEST. 


tJicm  aro  well  made,  and  have  good  features  ;  bul 
aboininablo  liaii-  aud  the  blue  tatlooiug  ou  their 
destroy  all  preleosioiis  to  beauty.  Tbey  bare  in  general 
fine  teeth  ;  this  is  tlicir  chief  recommcDdation.  All  arc 
onamourcd  of  smoking,  and  besiege  uh  for  tobacco,  ivliicli 
ve  part  witli  sparingly,  aa  wo  atiticlpato  a  probable 
DxhaufitioQ  of  our  supply. 

Saraet-A!y,  after  liaving  forced  upon  our  acceptance 
some  waim  cakes,  just  fried  by  bis  women,  dcmauds  our 
admiration  of  his  charger ;  &  fine  black  mare,  to  whom 
tlie  siglit  of  Em-opcans  b  an  alarming  prodig}',  for  she 
springs  back  and  appears  terrified  at  our  costume,  and 
her  master  ba^  much  difficulty  in  soothing  her  with 
caresses.  As  we  arc  aiucious  to  make  the  most  of  our 
force<l  day's  rest,  we  ask  the  Scbeikh  to  give  us  a  guide 
to  the  beach,  in  the  hope  of  discovering  some  new  objects 
of  natural  history.  The  guide  is  procured,  and  wo  start 
immediately. 

Our  walk  has  been  a  very  utiiuturcstiug  one  ;  no  insects, 
no  shells,  except  some  dead  MHanias  washed  down  by 
the  mountain  torrents.  A  few  flue  sainples  of  rock 
comprise  all  we  have  been  able  to  collect.  Having  cleared 
the  thickets,  where  countless  droves  of  camels  are  graxing, 
we  found  a  sandy  plain,  bounded  by  an  unfordablo 
watercourBC,  covered  with  small  reeds,  which  barred 
our  further  prognitis.  We  then  turned  again  towards 
our  camp,  littuig  our  pockets  and  loadiug  oui*  Bedouin 
with  pubblus. 

On  our  arrival  we  cncouutor  the  unwelcome  stirpriso  of 
finding  things  looking  worse  than  ever.  Scarcely  have  wc 
gained  our  tent,  wliuu  Soltam  enters  tn  a  passion,  lie  throws 
down  a  haudful  of  piastres  upon  the  taMo,   cxclaiiniug, 


I 


THE   SrOETSMEX    ALASMF.U. 


270 


'  I  am  no  beggar  1  I  baVe  ia  my  tent  as  niucli  money  as 
1  want,  I  need  no  alms  I  "  and  tbereupoii  be  exits  theatri- 
cally, leaving  eighty  piastres  which  he  had  received  foi-  his 
aharc  of  the  live  hiiudrcd  wo  had  paid.  Wc  thuught  we 
had  closed  accounts  with  him,  and  were  sorry  for  this 
new  rupture,  which  provt::^  tliat  wo  wore  not  yot  sufBcieutly 
;|uatnted  witli  the  tricks  of  Bedouins.  In  less  than 
i'  an  hour  tlie  wortliy  Scheikh  felt  such  n^ei  for  his 
eighty  piastres,  that  he  came  back  to  recover  them.  By 
perseverance  lie  contrived  to  extort  from  us  twenty  more, 
and  then  an  additional  ten,  to  pay,  as  be  said,  for  tlie 
shoeing  of  his  borsc.  This  little  supplement  obtained, 
Sellain  appeared  in  ecstasies,  embraced  ua  aU,  shook  us 
afi'cctionatcly  by  the  band,  and  once  iiiore  departed.  Tliis 
time  it  was  a  final  leave-taking.     We  saw  him  no  more. 

Beily,  Loysel,  and  Louis  had  gone  to  seek  for  game, 
under  the  conduct  of  one  of  tlio  Bedouins  of  the  cncani[>- 
meut.  They  came  back  in  an  horn*  somewhat  faster  tlian 
they  wcnL  1  must  expUiin  the  rea^jon.  On  reaching  tlie 
limit  of  the  KhC>r,  just  beyond  the  thickets,  tbcir  guide 
began  suddenly  to  run.  and  then  with  a  loud  cry  threw 
himself  flat  on  ihe  ground.  At  this  cry  a  dozen  BcdouinB 
rushed  from  the  bushes  and  approached  our  friends,  who 
felt  a  little  surprised  at  this  strange  manosuvi-e.  The  new 
comers,  as  tiiey  advanced,  repeated  their  eternal  Saoua ! 
Saoua !  (together !  together  1),  a  word  whicli  means 
generally  that  tJiey  are  coming  with  friendly  intentions. 
Loysel,  with  his  habitual  confidence,  went  forward  to 
meet  them ;  when  LouLs  (having  bad  the  advantage  of 
studying  the  Arab  character  in  Algeiia),  stopped  bim 
short  ''Sir.  sir,"  said  he.  "you  do  not  know  tliese 
rascabi.     Take  care ;  they  will  try  to  surround  us,  make 


i!tW 


JEALOUSY   ANOKUST  THE  TKIBEd. 


a  da«h  at  our  urms.  and  settle  our  account,  if  we  allow 
titcn)  to  como  too  near.  Keep  tlieni  at  ii  distance." 
Immediately  the  tlirec  guns  were  brought  to  the  IcTel, 
and  the  Arabs  stopped  at  once.  Our  incautious  ramblers 
then  retired  in  order,  and  retraced  their  steps  to  the  camp, 
ready  to  fire  if  pressed  upon.  The  strangers,  whose 
intention.<i  were  more  than  doubtful,  dared  not  follow 
them,  and  dispci-sed.    Their  plan  had  eyidently  faded. 

Until  dinner-time  we  were  quietly  occupied  in  our  tent, 
but  afler  our  repast  new  troublcu  came  upon  us.  The 
Beiii-Sakhars  express  their  wish  to  become  our  sole  pro- 
toctore.  "  On  their  ovm  lerritory,"  they  say,  *'  they 
possess  tlie  exclusive  right  of  escorting  stnuigers." 
Besides,  they  arc  strong  enough  to  enable  us  to  dispense 
with  every  other  guard.  They  require  us  to  dismiss 
together  Thi'iameras  and  Djahalins,  and  to  select  &om 
among  their  own  people  whatever  escort  we  require. 
Hamdnn,  who  annoiiiii;cd  this  new  imbroglio,  has  again 
turned  a  little  pule  ;  his  appetite  has  left  hira,  and  he 
istonucntcd  by  a  thousand  fears.  If  our  expedition  were 
now  to  recommence,  he  would  offer  less  confidently  his 
protection,  which  has  proved  bo  ineffectual,  Let  us  hope, 
however,  that  to-morrow  evcrytJiing  will  be  settled 
amicably.  I  encourage  poor  Hamdau  as  well  as  I  can, 
though  1  must  say  his  followers,  and  especially  Ahouad, 
show  much  more  resolution  than  their  Scheikh.  As  to 
Ahou-Daouk,  he  has  not  been  visible  throughout  the 
evening. 

As  soon  as  night  has  closed  in,  a  little  guttural  cry  is 
beard  on  all  sides  at  once  ;  it  is  the  camels'  retreat  call. 
Hundreds  of  these  animals  come  in,  in  files,  to  be  parked 
in  the  open  glade,  which  we  had  taken  for  a  public  square. 


TBKATY  OF   PBACS  PBOOLAIHBD. 


281 


but  which  proves  to  bo  tJic  uigbt  cattle-folil  of  tlic  tribe. 

[■Scarcely  are  tbe  cattle  all  in,  when  a  loud,  irregular. 

and  discordant  -chant   resounds    through    the    Rhur ;    it 

proceeds  from  a  horseman  riding  at  a  good  pace,  whose 

voice,  begiDDing  near  us,  recedes  gradiutlly  until  entirely 

lost  in  the  di<)tancc.      On  hearing  this  strange  prock- 

Bmation,  wc  sally  from  our  tent  to  inquire  the  cause,  and 

are  told  that  it  is  the  announcement  of  a  treaty  of  peace 

ju»t  concluded  between   the  Djahalina  and    tlic   Beiii- 

Sakhars. 

H     A  fev  months  since  a  donen  camels  had  been  stolen 

Hfix>m  the  Beui-Sakhars,  according  to  the  usual  practice 

Bof  the  desert ;    and  this  had   been  contrived   by   the 

H^espectable  Abou-Daouk,  or  some  of  IiLh  people.     !;iince 

"that  time.  Djahahns  and  Beui-Sakbars  had  confined  their 

iiitercuiii'so  to  niuskct-sliots ;  aud  tho  Djabiilin  fjcbeikh, 

tired  of  the  continual  skirmishes,  in  which  he  was  losing 

men  and  beasts,  conceived  the  fortmiatc  idea  of 

jrofiting  by  our  vi.qit  to  offer  peace  to  the  powerful  tribe 

tie  had  offended.     Now  that  I  have  some  knowlcilgo  of 

he  Bedouins,  I  ask  myself  how  Abou-IXiouk  h.is  dared 

venture  u{>oii  the  territory  of  the  Beni<SakharB,  when 

ich  a  cause  of  enmity  ought  to  have  kept  him  away  for 

ever.      How   did  this   cunning   diploniatisjt    contrive  to 

appease    all  rancour,  and  even   engage   to  restore  tho 

stolen  camels  ?     I  am  at  a  loss  to  divine.     Probably  by 

Bing  the  palms  of  om-  friends  .Sauict-AIy  and  Sekmeh, 

rho  have  declared  that  the  bouour  of  tho  tribe  has 

Qceivod  full  uatisfaction. 

This  fact  is  certain,  that  the  legitimate  owner  of  the 

camebt  was  the  iilentical  horseman  whom  wc  heard 

ling,  as  he  cantered  from  one  cucompment  to  tho 


282 


TRBAtY  0?   I'BACS  fBOCLAllCBD. 


other  (for  there  are  several  encampments  of  the  same 
tribe  iu  lIiu  viciiiitv),  and  those  aru  liie  wonhi  Lu  shouted 
at  the  full  extent  of  his  lungs  :  "  Peace,  peace  !  frieudship ! 
frieiubhip  between  tlie  Djahalins  and  oiu'selres !  Dhaif- 
Oullah  AboU'Doouk  has  sworu  to  restore  to  us  ihc  camels 
he  has  taken.  Peace,  peace  I  frieudship !  friendship  I " 
Tlio  time  meaning  of  this,  pro{>crly  translated,  might  be, 
I  suppose,  •'  O  Beni-tJakhara  1  if  to-morrow  morning  you 
should  happen  to  meet  Ahou-Daouk  and  his  p&0|do 
intruding  on  our  territory,  don't  break  their  heads  with 
a  musket-shot  or  a  club ;  don't  run  them  through  with 
your  lancet}  or  yatagliaiui.  Between  Bedouins  every 
qwirrvl  can  be  made  up  with  a  shake  of  the  hand,  and 
wo  have  become  again  the  best  frien«h)  in  Oie  world  ; 
they  hare  brought  us  some  honest  people,  from  whom 
ve  shall  extort  bakhsliish  and  contributions  at  our  owu 
discretion.  So  let  it  be  well  kuowu  to  every  one,  Abou- 
Daoiik  is  our  most  excellent  friend  I  " 

]iy  degrees,  all  noises  bccume  hualicd  around  us. 
Except  the  low  cry  of  the  camels,  the  barking  of  the 
dogs,  and  the  crackling  of  the  bivouac  fires,  everything 
has  settled  into  silence.  Finally,  after  a  short  cliat 
each  seeks  his  camp-bed,  and,  notwithstanding  the 
vermin  that  never  desert  us,  all  enjoy  an  excellent 
uigbt. 

We  had  hoped  that  all  treaties  would  have  been 
finally  settled  tliis  morniug,  and  that  we  slioidd  be  abto 
to  start  at  an  early  hour.  Another  vain  illusion.  As 
usual,  we  were  ready  with  the  first  dawn  ;  but  animated 
discusaons  are  in  progress  between  tJie  Scheikhs  of  the 
Bcni-Siikhars  on   the  one  side,    and  Abou-Daouk  and 


m 


ANOrnER  CIUKOE  FOR    H08P1PA1.ITY. 


288 


ilamdan,  actin*;;  iii  our  behalf,  on  the  otlier.  We  arc 
not  now  dealing  nntli  paltry  robbo's  like  the  Ahoucthats  ; 
the  parties  %vc  ai-e  ti-catiiig  with  to-day  are  handits  ou 
a  superior  scale.  With  gentlemen  such  as  these,  we 
must  count  piastres  by  tliuuuandti,  rathtT  thiui  by  hun- 
dreds. The  delay  is  enough  to  drive  ua  mad.  From 
time  to  time  Ilanidan  or  Matteo  bring  in  a  verbal  bullctiu 
of  the  progrowi  of  tlie  debate  ;  and  we  begin  to  fear  that 
matters,  getting  from  bad  to  worse,  will  end  by  cx- 
faausting  our  purses  altogether,  a  condition  wjth  whicJi 
we  may  think  ounielres  tolerably  well  satisfied. 

For  more  than  two  hours  the  high  contracting  parties 
liSTC  been  changing  their  ground  every  fire  minutes,  with 
the  view  of  elucidating  tlicir  ideas.  Dui'ing  that  time  we 
smoke  our  cliibouks  in  silence,  invoking  patience  to  our 
aid,  and  afFecting  outwardly  the  most  supreme  indiiference 
For  the  issue  of  ttic  debate.  We  are  besides  surrounded 
by  a  bevy  of  Bedouins  of  both  sexes,  who  observe  us 
with  the  most  impertinent  curiosity,  ami  pester  us  for 
tobacco  and  pipe-bowls. 

At  last,  near  ten  o'clock,  Ilamdan  announces  tliat  the 
Schciklis  of  the  Beni-8akliars  demand  two  thousand  five 
htmdrc<i  piastres  for  giving  us  safe  conduct  during  the 
remainder  of  our  journey  on  tlie  eastern  shore  of  the 
Dead  Sea.  The  price  is  exorbitant ;  we  arc  ill-advised 
enough  to  hesitate,  and  moreover  to  listen  to  our  drago- 
man Francis,  who,  from  lUioer  ill-humour,  incites  us  to 
refuse.  By  the  time  wo  decide  upon  accepting  the 
conditiona  offered,  it  is  too  hitc.  We  send  Hanidan  and 
Matteo  to  say  that  we  agree  to  pay  the  stipulated  Hiitn  ; 
they  return  with  ghastly  looks  to  inform  us  that  now,  in 
contfOitucnce  of  the  delay,  the  demand  has  risen  to  three 


am 


COKSBQUKNCtS  OK   DELAY. 


Uioiisftiid  piastres !  At  letigtJi  my  patience  is  exbausteiL 
1  fling  awaj  my  pipe,  and  liaatCQ  to  Uio  seal  of  council. 
Taking  the  Sclicikh  Selameh  by  the  arm,  I  tell  him  in  au 
angry  ton©  that  wo  Kreiiclunen  have  but  one  word,  and 
that  whftt  we  havo  once  said  remains  in  Uic  luciuory  of 
Allah.  "  It  is  80  with  us  also,"  answers  the  Sclicikh. 
"  Well,  then,  prove  it  better  tliaii  thou  haat  jnst  done. 
Thou  ha-st  asked  me  two  tliousand  five  hundred  piastres  ; 
I  have  gi-anted  them,  ami  now  thou  dost  ask  three 
thousand.  la  that  having  but  one  word  ? "  Sotameh 
and  his  friends  look  rather  ashamed  1  the  more  so  that 
1  have  tjummuncd  to  my  aid  my  utmost  knowledge  of 
Arabic,  and  have  pronounced  those  words  so  vehemently 
tiiat  all  tlio  curious  luokors-ou  around  us  have  perfectly 
undurtjlood  them.  I, begin  to  hope  that  my  remonstrance 
has  produced  the  desired  effect.  Taking  tlien  the  haad 
of  the  Sclieikb,  I  say  to  him,  with  the  most  serious  air  1 
van  assume,  "  In  the  name  of  the  clement  and  merciful 
Deity,  I  swear  I  that  when  my  companions  and  I  sliall 
have  come  back  safe  and  sound  to  this  place,  close  to 
thy  tents,  afler  that  thou  and  tliy  two  friends  sfmll  have 
accom]ranied  and  faitlifully  protected  us,  I  will  give  the 
the  three  thousand  piastres  thou  hast  asked.  I  hare 
sworn  by  Allah  !  Now,  Schoikh.  in  thy  turn,  swear  also 
by  Allah  1 "  Selamch  takes  the  oath  1  demand,  his  two 
companions  repeat  it  afler  liim,  and  I  urn  peifeetty  at 
ease.  The  ceremony  has  cost  us  tbree  thousand  piastres, 
but  1  can  now  dejiend  on  the  fidelity  of  these  men,  wli 
would  die  a  thousand  deaths  rather  tlian  break  their  word 
so  solemnly  pledged. 

In  other  respects,  this  scene  has  produced  a  good  effect 
on  the  tribe,  and  I  find  that  1  have  done  wisely  in  iutru- 


THE   JOUKNET   COHTISUBD.  883 

ducing  the  name  of  Allah  into  our  treaty.  From  this 
moment  we  are  no  longer  infidels  in  the  eyes  of  our  confe- 
derates, and  they  are  henceforward  disposed  to  respect  as 
well  as  to  defend  us. 

In  the  meantime  our  tents  and  luggage  have  been  struck 
and  loaded.  The  three  Scheikhs  have  seized  their  lances, 
jumped  on  horseback,  and  by  half-past  nine  o'clock  we  are 
on  the  march,  happy  at  having  surmounted  another  diffi- 
ciilty,  which  threatened  to  be  serious. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A  dead  cnmeL — A  panther. — Hohammed  in  a  quickund PrOTidftntJal  delirer- 

ance.-— A  relic  of  the  condemned  citie* Eitcnaive  miiu. — Second  eDCunp- 

ment  of  BeDiSakhars.' — Rosea  of  Jericho.— Bennamerin,  or  Liibith. — Hia- 
taken  by  Irby  and  Mangleg,  and  Captnin  Lynch,  for  tie  ruins  of  Zoar. — 
Proroootoiy  of  EI-Liaan,  the  Tongue. — Expuliioa  of  a  Djah^in — Politiol 
diacuasion  on  the  state  of  France. — Departure  from  the  encampment.— Pleia 
of  El-MeirAah. — The  Beni-Ogbi,  a  aettlod  tribe. — NoctuniBl  alarm  and  com- 
bat.— Intended  plunder  prevented.— Remains  of  Roman  stnictureH.- Andent 
road. — Strange  ligiton. — Tribe  of  Beni-Hammida. 

Leaving  the  encampment  of  the  Beni-Sakhara,  at  half- 
past  nine  we  proceed  obliquely  towards  the  mountain  in 
an  easterly  direction.  We  are  still  in  the  Rhor-Safieh ; 
but  in  a  few  minutes  we  have  cleared  the  forest,  and  enter 
on  the  sandy  plain  we  visited  the  day  before. 

By  a  quarter-past  ten,  after  a  few  moments'  halt,  we 
march  north-east.  A  plain,  two  thousand  yards  in  extent, 
divides  us  from  the  mountain,  which  is  formed  of  black 
rocks,  rent  and  calcined  by  fire.  Behind  this  mountain  is 
another,  of  inferior  height,  of  reddish  rocks,  and  called  the 
Djebel-A'acy,  By  twenty-two  minutes  past  ten  we  are 
opposite  the  highest  summit  of  the  Djebel-A'acy.  To  our 
left,  the  horizon  is  Umited  by  the  Djebel-es-Sofa  and  the 
Djebel-ez-Zouera,  in  the  foreground  of  which  stands  out 
the  distinct  mass  of  the  Djebel-el-Melehh. 

By  half-past  ten  we  are  opposite  the  southern  point  of 
the  Dead  Sea,  with  the  black  mountain  fifteen  hundred 
yards  to  our  right.     Our  course  is  still  north-east,  whilst 


A    PANTHER. 


287 


th(!  Axia  of  tlic  mountain  couTcrgcs  towards  our  direction, 
so  that  in  five  minutes  more  wc  liave  reduced  our  diKlaiice 
from  tlio  foot  of  the  rocks  to  four  or  five  hundred  yards. 
We  are  treading  a  sandy  soil  without  stoneei  or  pebbles. 
Suddenly,  as  tho  wind  coureys  to  our  nostrils  the  stench 
of  a  dead  camel's  carcass  lying  on  the  sand  a  few  hundred 
yards  before  ns,  several  cultures  fly  off.  abandoning  their 
festival,  whilst  a  magnificpnt  panther,  who  had  been  break- 
fasting in  company  with  them,  pasaea  before  our  eyes 
witJiout  the  Icaat  alanii  or  hurry. 

"  Nemr  1  Nemr  1"  (a  tiger !  a  tiger !)  shout  all  our 
Arabs,  whilst  two  or  three  dart  off  in  pursuit  of  the 
animal,  who  appears  tn  take  things  very  coolly.  The 
panther  looks  as  if  die  was  creeping  rather  than  running, 
and,  when  the  horsemen  are  close  upon  her,  evades  them 
with  an  enormous  spring,  and  then  creeps  on  again  as 
quietJy  as  before.  She  repeats  this  <!at-like  practice 
several  times  ;  our  horsemen  find  it  prudent  to  turn  back, 
and  give  up  tiring  themselves  for  nothing,  The  panther 
quietly  disappears  in  the  thicket,  and  we  sec  no  more 
of  her. 

By  thirty-five  minutes  past  ten  we  ford  a  river  called 
El-Meronah,  nmning  from  south-east  to  north-west  This 
is  the  same  watercourse  that  stopped  o\ir  progress  yester- 
day. Ky  thirty-nine  minutes  past  ton  (he  sea  shore  lies 
about  three  thousand  yards  to  our  left ;  the  black 
mountain,  which  we  follow  nearly  in  a  parallel  line,  is  four 
hundred  yards  off  to  our  right,  and  behind  it  still  rises 
majestically  the  Djebel-A'acy.  By  forty-two  minutes  past 
ten  tlie  bhick  mountain  opens,  and  forms  the  Ouad-ez- 
Zaher,  in  front  of  wliich  tlierc  is  a  small  elevation  com- 
posed of  gray  hillocks.     We  are  still  on  the  sand ;  and. 


288 


VKKD-ASTIQUB   WjBMIYRT. 


by  forly-stx  minutes  past  ten,  Uie  ^otmc)  \3  slrcwed  witJi 
liugc  masses  of  piidiling-stouc,  fonued  of  that  beautiful 
compound  known  to  mineralogists  under  the  name  of 
univcnial  breccia.  It  consists  of  a  fine  conglomerate  of 
green  porphyry,  in  which  are  imbedded  innumerable 
crystals  of  graiiito  nf  all  colours.  Nobody  could  tell  tlie 
original  locality  of  thia  splendid  marljlo,  employed  by  the 
ancients  in  some  of  their  most  sumptuous  monuments.  It 
is  now  proved,  for  the  first  time,  that  it  came  fi^m  the 
mountains  of  Moab  and  from  the  Djebel-A'ac}'.  There 
are  also  here  other  rolled  fragments  of  the  celebrated  rose- 
antiquo  porphyrj'.  spotted  nith  white.  The  Djebel-A'acy 
contains  therefore  veins  or  layers  of  this  rare  mineraL 

By  fifty  minutes  past  ten  the  pudding-stones  have  dis- 
appeared ;  wc  march  again  over  sandy  ground,  and  an 
enormous  crater  ojiens  on  tlie  side  of  the  Djebel-A'acy. 
The  sea,  which  by  forty-six  mumtcs  past  ten  was  two 
thousand  yai-ds  distant  to  onr  left,  is  by  eleven  only  seven 
hundi-od  yards  from  us.  At  three  minutes  past  cloven  the 
soil  is  still  sandy,  though  strewed  with  lai^e  blocks  of 
rolled  sandstone  grit,  veined  witli  variegated  tints.  By 
fourteen  minutes  past  eleven  we  cross  a  large  ravine,  tlie 
Ouad-Khaderah,  with  its  bed  full  of  boulders  of  the  same 
stone  I  liave  just  mentioned.  We  still  march  north-east, 
but  the  black  mountain  has  retreated ;  it  is  now  aWut 
eight  hundred  yards  off,  whilst  the  sea  is  only  six  hundred 
yards  distant  to  our  left.  On  the  opposite  shore  we  descry, 
immediately  fa(riiig  us,  the  northern  point  of  the  Djobel-el- 
Melehh.  It  is  now  eighteen  minutes  past  eleven,  and  we 
are  again  in  a  sandy  plain. 

As  soon  as  the  ground  before  us  becomes  open,  our 
Arab  horsemen  arc  seized,  like  children,  with  the  mania  of 


UOUAUMBD    IN   A  QUICKSAND. 


2S9 


executing  a  fandango  in  front  of  the  caravan.  The)'  gallop 
about  in  all  directionH,  chasing  each  other  at  full  Bpecil — 
the  pursuer's  lance  being  close  to  liLs  advorsary's  hack  ; 
vou  would  swear  that  the  last  will  ct'i-tainlj  be  run  through, 
when  lo  I  just  at  the  critical  moment,  he  turns  s«<Me!ily 

I  round  and  the  chase  is  reversed.  This  kind  of  mock  %ht, 
ally  euough  in  reality,  excites  the  Bedouins  to  enthusiasm, 
and  forms  altogether  a  singular  and  amusing  spectacle. 

This  time,  however,  a  serious  accident  interrupts  the 
sport.  Mohammed,  the  wildest  of  tlie  party,  has  darted 
at  full  speed  in  pursuit  of  one  of  the  ScJieikhs  of  the  Beni- 
Sakhar,  flourishing  hia  gun,  which  ho  handles  as  if  it  were 
a  javelin.  Suddenly,  the  Kcheikh's  horse  stumbles,  and, 
recovering  himnelf,  clears  iu  a  hound  a  cavity  where  the 
sand  has  given  way  imder  his  feet.  But  Mohammed  is 
too  late  to  avoid  the  danger.  The  hind  legs  of  his  charger 
aiDk  Jit  once.  Horse  and  rider  are  begiiming  to  disappear. 
The  rider,  without  quitting  his  bridlo,  tries  to  disengage 
his  feet  from  the  stirrups,  but  sinks  deeper  in  the  attempt. 
The  uufortuuato  horse,  whilst  stniggling  convulsively  to 
disengage  himself  from  the  quicksand,  plunges  lowei- 
aud  lower.  Our  infantry  hasten  to  the  relief  of  Mohammed. 
With  daring  pertinacity  they  cling  to  the  head-hame.'w  and 
to  the  horse's  ears,  at  the  risk  of  being  swallowed  up  with 
liim  in  tlio  gaping  abyss ;  and,  by  an  etVurt  almost  super- 
human, drag  him  fi^m  his  tomb  of  sand,  when  he  has 
already  sunk  up  to  the  nostrils.  By  the  interference  of 
Providence,  all  are  saved. 

Mohammed  caresses  his  charger,  who  in  a  moment  is 

'"covered  willi  foam  and  perspiration,  so  great  has  been 
his  terror.  Then  he  leajts  into  tlte  saddle  again,  hut 
henceforth  picks  his  steps  more  carefully,  and  socks  tJiQ 


290 


THE  ODAD-EI^QENAlEn. 


firmest  grouii<L  For  several  minutes  we  gazed  on  this 
horrid  spectacle,  whicli  recalled  to  us  tlic  pit  in  the 
plain  of  Sodom,  and  tticn  resume  our  march,  leaving 
joyiiilly  behind  us  the  dangerous  spot  We  have  now 
reached  twentjr-seren  minutes  past  eleven  o'clock. 

What  vrtHild  have  heoii  the  conscqucuco  if  one  of  our 
paiithcr-hun(ers  had  met  with  the  same  accident  which 
befel  Mohammed  ?  Horse  and  rider  would  liave 
unavoidablv  perished  in  the  sand  before  wc  could  have 
arrived  to  render  timely  assistance. 

We  enter  next  on  a  series  of  grey  hillocks  bordering 
the  foot  of  the  mountain  with  the  dark  dislocated  rocks, 
the  axis  of  which  draws  rapidly  towards  the  beach. 
From  thirty-five  to  forty-two  minutes  past  eleven  we 
march  nearly  due  cast.  By  thirty-eight  miuules 
eleven  we  are  only  twenty  yards  from  the  foot  of  the 
moimtaiii,  and  two  hundred  from  tlie  shore  ;  the  grey 
sandy  hillocks  continue  along  the  beach.  By  forty 
minutes  past  eleven  we  enter  another  sandy  plain, 
strewed  with  largo  blocks  of  sandstone  grit ;  and,  two 
minutes  later,  wc  halt  for  breakfast  under  an  acacia. 

By  a  quarter-past  twelve  we  mouot  our  horses  again 
and  march  in  a  north -north -east  direction.  By  twenty- 
five  minutes  past  twelve  we  are  on  a  muddy  beachr,, 
distaut  only  twenty  yards  from  the  foot  of  the  blacl 
rorks.  To  our  left  begins  a  deep  selvage  of  reeds, 
extending  down  te  the  sca-sboro,  which  is  not  more  than 
two  hundred  yards  from  the  track.  The  blick  rocks 
extend  further  than  this  spot,  and  behind  them  appears 
a  high  mountain,  formed,  Ukc  the  Djcbel-A'acy,  of  red 
sandstone,  torn  and  dislocated.  This  mountain  now 
opens  (o  make  room   for  the  Oiiad-el-Qcnaieh  (valley  of 


A  BRi.ir  or  TirB  cosdkmnbp  cities. 


201 


the  reedi;).     The   moiinuin    itself  bears  the  name   of 
Djcbcl-cl-Qcnaieh. 

In  front  of  tlic  spot  whore  the  ouaA  opens,  we  find  on 
the  grounil,  Komo  fifty  yards  to  the  right  of  our  road, 
a  very  lai^e  ronnJ  stone,  which  we  take  from  a  distance 
for  the  brim  of  a  well ;  we  6ncl  this  to  be  in  reality  an 
immense  quoit,  or  discus,  hewn  and  ornamented,  three 
yards  ii>  dijiractor  and  one  yard  in  tliicljnoss,  Thia 
strange  stone  is  broken.  What  can  have  been  Us  desti- 
nation '?  It  reticmbles  nothing  fashioned  by  the  Romans, 
and  still  le^  by  the  Aralis.  As  far  m  I  can  Judge,  it  is  a 
remnant  of  the  condemned  PcntapoHs. 

On  leaving  the  muddy  defile  we  have  juRt  crossed,  we 
enter  tlic  Rhor-en-Ncraairch  (morass  of  the  little  tiger). 
A  small  gwlf,  three  hundred  yards  wide,  borders  the 
aoutlicrn  point  of  this  Hhur.  Close  to  the  gulf  the 
beach  is  bare  of  vegetation,  hut  a  few  yards  fi-om  the 
shore  the  selvage  of  reeds  I  have  already  named  begins 
again.  The  Djcbol-el-Qenaieli,  which  we  arc  leaving 
behind  us.  is  then  separated  from  onr  road  by  n  plain 
about  five  hundred  yards  in  extent,  planted  with  atacias. 
and  bordered,  at  tJie  foot  of  the  mountain,  by  hillocks 
formed  of  heapcd-up  fragments  of  fallen  rocks. 

By  thirty-six  minutes  past  twelve  we  mai-ch  nortliward 
throiigh  the  mimosas,  five  hundred  yards  distant  from 
Uie  shore,  and  six  hundred  from  the  foot  of  tho  moun- 
tain.  On  our  right  appear  the  red  cliffs  of  a  lofty 
eminence,  called  the  Djebel-Arraq,  the  base  of  which  is 
concealed  from  us  by  another  mountain,  also  formed  of 
red  rocks.  By  forty-six  mimites  past  twelve  tho  plain, 
covered  with  mimosas,  through  which  we  are  proceeding, 
elevates  itself  a  little ;  and,  once  on  llic  eminence,  wc 


in 


your.  BPisft. 


find  ourselves  surroiinilcd  by  immonse  heaps  of  rubbish, 
bcnrlng  the  iiamo  of  Kn-Keinaireh. 

Tvcnty  vards  distant  to  our  right  there  appears,  first 
a  mound  coFcrcd  with  ruins ;  tlien.  fifty  yards  to  the 
left,  a  »quAre  structure  measuring  six  yards  on  each  side, 
built  of  krge  stones,  and  divided  into  two  rooms.  By 
forty-eight  minutea  past  tweiro  we  are  in  front  of,  and 
four  hundred  yards  distant  from,  a  considerable  elevation, 
covered  also  with  crumbling  remnants  of  buildings.  The 
sca-shorc  is  here  a  thousand  yai-ds  to  our  left.  \Vc  keep 
moving  through  these  ruins  until  fifty-three  minutes  paat 
twelve,  froin  which  it  apjKijii-s  tliey  occupy  an  extent  of 
considerably  more  than  liitlf  a  mile  iu  length. 

By  fifly-five  minutes  past  twelve,  proceeding  north- 
west, wc  cross  a  rivulot  of  running  water,  the  bed  and 
ai)]>roaches  of  which  are  filled  with  large  rolled  boulders. 
This  water-course  runs  by  four  different  ravines ;  beyond 
it  begins  the  Sahcl-cn-Nemai'reh,  limited  eastward  by  a 
mountain,  the  rocks  of  which  arc  grey  at  the  base  and 
red  at  the  summit.  The  foot  of  this  mountain  is  six 
hundi-od  yards  distant  from  our  track,  which  haa  tunie<l 
north  again.  By  three  minutes  past  one  we  reach  another 
rivulet,  beyond  which  are  other  ruin!^  including  a  structure 
situated  fifty  yards  from  our  road.  This  is  a  square 
building,  flanked  at  the  four  angles  by  towers,  forming 
now  four  distinct  heaps  of  ruins.  The  Arai>s  call  this 
structure  Bordj-en-Nemaireb.  A  httle  iurther  on  we 
perceive,  about  four  hundred  yards  distant  from  the  road, 
another  ruined  building,  square  in  shape,  but  smaller  than 
the  preceding  one. 

By  ten  minutes  past  one  wc  cross  a  phun  covered 
with    mimosaa.   and    strewed    with  large  rolled  pebble*. 


THS  OUiD-ES-SOrEEB. 


KttS 


From  wliero  we  pass  the  sea  is  distant  niue  huntlrej 
yards,  and  the  foot  of  tlio  mountain  only  four  liundred. 
We  had  now  reached  the  northern  extremity  of  the  Rhor- 
CE-Ncniaireh.  Tli«  mountain  we  are  coasting;  is  furrowed 
by  a  ravine,  probably  tliat  by  which  the  pebbles  we  see 
strewing  the  grovind  have  been  carried  down.  Towarils 
this  point,  the  si-Ie  of  the  mountain  presents  a  lai^e  staiu 
of  green  and  violet,  one  above  the  other ;  from  a  distance 
this  stain  lias  tlie  appearance,  on  a  very  large  scale,  of 
certain  beds  or  layers  of  rainbow -coloured  marls,  such  an 
arc  continon  in  the  cast  of  France.  Here  tlie  beach 
uarrows  very  rapidly,  so  that  by  twenty-one  minutes  past 
one  we  are  only  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards  distant  from 
the  foot  of  tlie  mountain,  and  four  hundred  from  the  sea- 
shore. At  tUia  point  a  frowning  ravine  presents  it-self, 
called  the  Onad-es-Soueeb  (the  rocky  valley).  Soon  after 
this  we  cross  the  bed  of  the  torrent  coming  out  of  the 
ouad.    It  is  full  of  rolled  blocks  of  sandstone  grit. 

From  the  Bnrdj-en-Nemaireh  our  route  has  been  north- 
north-cast,  and  we  keep  marching  in  this  direction  until 
thirty-one  minutes  past  one.  Here  the  mountain  is  only 
one  hundred  and  fifty  yards  distant ;  the  sea  one 
himdrcd  yards  from  us  when  we  enter  the  thicket  of  reeds 
bordering  tlie  shore.  The  beach  keeps  narrowing  still, 
and  by  thirty -nine  minutes  past  one  we  are  only  ten  yards 
distant  from  the  water,  and  close  to  the  very  foot  of  a  hill 
covered  with  lai^o  bouidcrs.  a  kind  of  spur  projecting 
from  a  high  range  of  mountains.  The  ground  of  the 
defile  we  are  passing  through  is  strewed  with  blockx  of 
greyish  stone,  romlering  the  progress  of  our  horses  difficult 
and  dangerous.  The  defile  itself  is  known  by  the  Arabs 
by  the  name  of  Ei-JIeraVced  (which  moans  the  Cut-throat). 


i'H 


ENCAMI-UEKT  OP   THE   BKHI-SAKUAUS. 


Kumerous  other  ravines  are  seen  furrowing  the  side  of  tlie 
bill  n)uncl  which  no  are  winding. 

liy  fifty  niiuutc8  past  one  wo  march  north-nortli-castij 
an<i  three  minutes  later,  north-nortli-west.  Hero 
heach  m  about  eighty  yards  wide,  and  the  mountain  one 
hundred  and  twenty  yards  distant  from  our  road.  All 
this  ground  is  planted  wjtli  mimosaa,  and  tJie  shore  is 
everywhere  frmgcd  with  it«  largo  selvage  of  reeds 
folluniug  the  windings  of  the  beach.  We  next  arrive 
in  iacc  of  another  ouad,  going  up  towards  the  Land  of 
Moah,  and  called  Talaa-Sem^AU  or  Sebaan  ;  with  the 
Djebel-es-SaltU  fonning  itti  northern  flanl:.  We  tliea 
re-enter  tlic  thicket,  whilst  we  proceed  north-west.  This 
tliicket  is  comjiosed  of  thorny  trees  and  bushes,  which 
have  procured  for  it  its  uaino  of  Esal  (the  Thorny  Trees). 

liy  tifloeu  minutes  past  two  wo  arc  in  front  of  the 
Ouad-el-Ksal,  which  terminates  twelve  huudretl  yards  to 
our  right  Oiio  liundrcd  yards  to  our  left  begins  tbe 
reedy  border,  of  nearly  the  same  breadth  at  tliis  place. 
Wc  haJt  here  a  few  minutes,  and  a  little  before  half-jiast 
two  start  again  towards  tliu  north-nortliHUist,  through  tlie 
acacia«.  The  foot  of  the  mountain  flanking  to  the  north 
the  Ouad-el-Esal  is  now  at  the  distance  of  a  thousand 
yards,  whilst  the  border  of  rcedii  has  retreated  to  about 
two  hundred  and  fifty  yards  from  our  road. 

By  tliirty-scven  minutes  past  two,  we  cross  a  pretty 
rivulet  of  running  water.  By  forty  minutes  |)a»t  two,  we  pass 
between  the  tents  of  an  encampment  of  the  Beni*Sakhar ; 
and  seven  minutes  later,  we  tinatly  arrive  at  a  second 
encampment,  established  at  the  pkce  more  e3pe<:ially 
called  El-Ksil,  and  in  front  of  tlie  opem'ng  of  another  valley 
called  by  some  Ouad.Katzrabba,  and  by  otlieraOuad-Italz- 


SBOOND   ENCAMrjfRNT  OF  THE  IJ1SI-8XKHAH3. 


SM 


We  are  amongst  friends,  and  therefore  determine 
to  halt  here  for  tlie  rcmaiudor  of  the  day  and  the  night. 

On  our  arrival,  we  feel  at  once,  from  the  rcspcctfui 
manner  of  all  who  surround  lu,  that  the  protection  of  tbe 
three  Beni-Sakhar  Scheikhs,  if  it  does  not  entirely  rid  us 
of  tho  annoyance  of  Bedouin  curiosityj  is  still  a  great 
advantage.  We  have  never  before  been  treated  with  such 
deference  in  the  desert.  The  heat  is  exccsiiive,  much 
moro  BO  than  on  the  western  shore.  Wo  feel  as  if  wo 
were  in  a  fnmace  ;  though  tbe  seimoum  has  nothing  to 
do  with  the  temperature  from  which  wc  are  sufroriny. 

We  take  advantage  of  the  remaining  dayUght,  to  hunt 
scdulotLsly  for  insects,  which  abound  under  the  stonea,  in 
company  with  tho  finest  black  scorpions  I  have  ever  seen. 
Some  of  them  are  nearly  as  largo  as  crawfish  ;  but  not- 
withstanding tlit;ir  personal  pretensions,  we  invariably 
make  tlicm  pay  for  tbe  alarm  they  cause  us,  every  time 
we  come  upon  tbeoi  unawares. 

Tlte  roses  of  Jericho  {Aiiosfatica  hierichuntica)  are 
found  hero  in  great  plenty  ;  tlicy  arc  deeply  rooted  in 
tho  soil  on  which  they  live  their  short  existence.  All, 
owing  to  the  dry  soaaou,  are  crisped  and  shrivelled  up  ; 
and  their  coloiu",  resembling  that  of  the  ground,  makes  it 
rather  difficult  to  discover  tliem.  We  proceed  to  collect 
an  ample  provwion  of  these  flowers. 

At  dark  wc  return  to  camp,  where  we  enjoy  the  miwt 
complete  repose  an<l  security.  After  dinner,  whcTi  our 
day's  work  is  over,  and  while  cjuietly  smoking  our 
tcliibouks,  we  try  to  ascertain  what  city  it  may  have 
been  the  vast  ruins  of  which  we  have  passed  through. 
Their  Arab  name  of  Kharbct-en-Nemairch,  makes  us  at 
first  think  of  Gomorrah,  tbe  A'amoura  of  the  Scripturea 


296 


BEKAMRnitm.  OB   I.DHITH 


and  of  the  Arabs ;  but  the  significative  tenn  of  En- 
Ncmaiireh  compels  iis  soon  to  alter  our  opinion.  I  cannot 
discover  anything  moro  than  a  dflnsivo  analogy  between 
the  two  dciioniiimtions.  Wc  must  theu  look  for  some- 
thing else.  Has  there  existed  in  this  phwe  a  city  of  any 
size  at  a  period  more  recent  ttiaii  the  destruction  of  the 
Pentapolis  t    This  is  possible. 

In  the  Onotna«ticon  ofKusebiuB,  we  read  at  the  word 
tSffirip^i*  (instead  of  N(«r)/>^).  that  Rttn/ofiap^  was  a  town  of 
the  Moabitcs.  situated  northward  of  S^oar.  Saint  Jerome 
transcril)6S  the  name  Henamerium.  The  sound  of  Ben- 
naniarini  is  so  very  Uko  that  of  En-Ncmaireh,  ihat  I  have 
no  doubt  the  Moabitic  station  mentioned  in  tliat  passage 
ras  really  a  village  of  no  great  importance,  built  on  the 
lite  of  the  rains  of  Zeboiim.  At  any  rate,  the  town 
mentioned  by  Eusebius  cannot  be  the  Nimrim,  situated 
twenty  leagues  from  that  place  on  the  casteni  bank  of  the 
Jordan.  Timt  town  is  to  the  north  of  Jericho,  and 
Kusebius  would  certainly  not  have  made  use  of  the 
indication  norfhimrd  of  Zourrn,  to  determine  its  poeition.  i 

There  is  another  village  named  AortiO,  which  Eusubiiii 
places  utrafi  Apoiro'Afiui  xal  £oo/»«i;.  between  Areopolis 
(Rabbath-Moab,  er-Itabbah)  and  Zouera.  The  ate  of 
En-Nemaireh  would  suit  perfectly  with  the  situation  ofl 
Luhith  :  for  the  ancient  mad  from  er-Ral>b;ih  to  Zouera 
passes  by  the  Onad-cbni-Iiammid.  Hut  there  are  other 
niins  to  be  mentioned  shortly,  which  may  claim  Um) 
honour  of  having  belonged  to  the  Luhith  of  Eusebiiis. 

Ailer  this  first  imiuiry,  we  remained  completely  in 
doubt  as  to  the  proper  identification  of  these  extenaivo 
ruins ;  it  was  only  on  our  return,  and  after  having 
traversed    the    frowning  crater  which    commands    this 


KtSTAKKir  yOB  THB   BUtlTS  OF  ZOAR. 


297 


district,  and  pnssing  other  ruins  which  strew  the  groimd 
from  the  Tairia-Scmtuin  to  ScbHan,  I  wbs  compelled 
naturally  to  suppoao  that  wo  woro  treading  the  site  of 
the  Zeboiim  of  the  Scriptures. 

I  will  add  but  one  word  nioi'e  :  these  ruins,  previously 
noted  by  Irby  and  Jlauglcs,  and  since  visited  by  Lyitcb, 
hare  been  erroneouHly  taken  by  thene  travellers  for  tlie 
ruins  of  Zoar.    "Wo  need  only  read  in  Genesis  the  narra- 

I  tire  concerning  the  destnictlon  of  Sodom  and  the  flight 
of  Lot,  to  remain   perfectly  satisfied   that  Zoar — where 

,  Lot,  who  had  left  Sodom  by  break  of  day,  arrived  at 
sunrise — cannot  po^ibly  be  looked  for  on  the  opposite 
shore  of  the  Dead  Sea,  and  still  less  at  the  Kharbct-en- 
Neniaireh.  For,  were  we  to  agree  with  tho  indefensible 
TiyiJOthoais  of  the  sudden  formation  and  rise  of  the  Bead 
Sea,  there  would  still  remain,  as  tho  crow  flies,  several 
lo^ucs  between  Sodom  and  tlie  pretended  Zoar.  How- 
ever rapid  might  have  boon  the  flight  of  Lot  with  hia 
daughters,  it  would  have  been  impossible  for  them  to 
accomplish  one-tenth  part  of  the  distance  between  these 
two  points  in  the  sliort  intt^rval  that  takes  place  in  this 
country  between  dawn  and  sunrise.  This  question  appears 
to  me  to  bo  settled  beyond  dispute  or  mi^stakc,  except  on 
the  i>art  of  those  who  have  not  visited  the  localities,  and 
wish  to  remain  iu  error.  For  myself,  being  now  as 
well  acquainted  as  any  one  with  the  shores  of  tho 
Dca<l  Sea  and  the  adjacent  countries,  1  am  convinced 
tliat  it  is  Zeboiim  wo  are  to  look  for  in  the  ruins  of 
TaUia-Scbaan,  and  Bennamarim  at  the  Kharbet'eD- 
NemaVreh,  which  is  evidently  an  apjicndago  of  the 
ruins  of  Zeboiim.  And  lastly,  if  we  are  to  judge  by 
the    vast  extent   of  those   ruins.    Zeboiim    vas  at  least 


29S 


K1/-U8AN, — THE  TOBGUB. 


as  large  a  city  as  Sodoiu.  At  a  later  period  of  Uiis 
journey  1  JUcovcrctl  tho  exact  site  of  Gomorrsli,  a  site 
viiuled  b_v  many  pilgrims,  but  always  mistaken  until  tliia 
day.     Hut  k>t  uio  nut  anticipate. 

Our  nigbt  has  been  excellent ;  and  a  sound  sleep  lias 
restored  our  ardour  and  our  cliecrfulncss.  Up  to  this 
moment,  everything  has  succeeded  to  our  wishes,  and  «e 
must  be;  tliankful  to  Divine  Providence  for  the  nianifeet 
protection  which  has  smoothed  the  difficulties  of  so 
hazardous  a  journey. 

Jamaarf  ISA' 

This  morning  by  da\vn  I  have  taken  ample  observations 
of  all  the  important  points  on  both  shores  of  the  Dead 
Sea  ;  and,  while  noting  dowi  many  iiam«s,  I  have 
extracted  as  much  iiifornmtioii  as  pos^hle  from  the 
tribe  of  the  Beiii-Sakhar  with  whom  we  are  dwelling. 

We  are  here  on  the  peninsula  called  from  earliest 
antiquity,  as  at  the  present  day,  cI-Lisan  (the  Tongue). 
We  IJnd  it  mentionetl  in  the  Bible  at  verse  2  of  the  10th 
chapter  of  Joshua,  when  treating  of  the  territorial  limits 
of  the  tribe  of  Judah  :  "  And  their  south  border  was 
froiH  the  shore  of  the  Salt  Sea,  from  the  Tongue*  tbab 
looked  southward."  It  appears  very  unlikely  that  the 
sacroil  writer  should  have  designated  by  tlie  word  Tongue 
(pufVi),  the  shallow  bay  or  gulf  forming  the  southern 
extremity  of  the  Dead  Sea ;  for  then  that  Umit  would 
necessarily  have  crossed  or  coasted  the  Salt  itouutatn, 
which  is  nowhere  asserted.  1  prefer  reading  in  that 
expression  the  modem  /Man  of  the  Arabs,  meaning  the 


*  Id  Uib  Bn^Ii  tonion,  tli*  word  lonjnic  ii  iwidcrad  toy;  bnt  Uie  Hcteew 
b  iDQm  llUmJly  ttuwIaUd,  Mooidiiig  to  M.  d«  SmiIoj,  bjr  Ilia  fvnatr  UTm.~ 


EL-lISAir. — THB  TOSaCE. 


S90 


southern  point  of  the  peninsula.  Supposing  the  contntrr, 
why  ^ve  two  designations  to  ttie  same  terminations  of 
the  sea  ?  In  so  concise  a  narrative,  one  was  enough.  I 
tliorefore  conclude  that  lUu  inspired  writer  meant  that 
the  Bouthem  limit  of  tlie  territory  of  Judah  began  towards 
the  extrumity  of  the  Salt  Sea,  from  tlio  tongue  of  land 
looking  ftouthwurd  ;  tJiat  is  to  say,  li^m  a  point  situated 
opposite  the  peninsula.  What  further  proves  this  ia,  that 
the  following  verse  mentions  (hat  fi-om  this  point  the  limit 
proceeds  southward,  towards  the  mountain  of  Akrabim. 
The  pass  of  Akrabim  (or  of  tbc  Scorpions)  may  very 
well  be  taken  for  the  Ouad-ez-Zouera,  accor<ling  to 
the  opinion  already  expressed  by  Mr.  De  Berton.  To 
return  from  the  extremity  of  the  Dead  Sea  to  the  Ouad- 
ez-Zouera.  it  would  Imve  been  necessary  to  coast  tbe 
Salt  Mountain  going  northward,  which  is  not  mentioned. 
Besides,  when  in  the  fifth  Terse  of  the  snmc  chapter  the 
writer  treats  of  tbc  northern  limit  of  the  same  tribe,  we 
wbA,  "  And  the  co&t  border  was  the  Salt  Sea  oven  unto 
the  end  of  Jordan,  and  their  border  in  the  north  tjuarter 
was  from  the  hay  (iont/m)  of  the  sea  at  tlie  uttermost  part 
of  Jordan."  Since,  in  this  passage,  the  northern  gulf  is 
explicitly  named  the  tongue  of  the  sea,  I  conclude  that 
in  the  former  passage,  where  we  only  find  tlio  word 
tonffUf,  without  the  specific  and  precise  addition  of  tfie  sea^ 
it  really  meant  a  tongue  of  land.*  and  consequently  that 
the  point  designated  is  the  one  still  called  Lmin  at  tbe 
present  day.  In  verse  l!J  of  chapter  xviii.,  we  read 
again  of  the  same  gulf  under  this  form,  the  bay  (longue) 
lof  the  Salt  Sea. 


*  ColitD,  In  Ilk  eoiuinoutai;  on  Uio  2ai  T«rae,  «lukp.  s*,.  wrilM :  "  A  tuugur  of 
'  lubl :  in  Chaliicoa.  ■  rock.    Su  <re  both  n^m  la  to  tli«  pT«ciM  mcanbic  nhicii 
•bould  b«  givHi  lirrr  «t  tb«  iaoUl^t  •ronl,  "longut." 


$00 


EXFULaiOK   OF   A   DJAKALIK. 


I 
I 


There  \fas  ancioittly  n  roAd  going  across  the  peninsula ; 
tills  road,  the  memory  of  which  has  been  liniided  down 
by  tradition,  was  called  Dharb-cl-Lisan,  but  it  exists 
uo  more.  The  IJimIouIiis  who  accompany  us  are  unani- 
mous in  asserting  that  no  ruins  are  to  be  fouixl  in  the 
centre  of  the  peninsula. 

Wliilst  I  am  busy  taking  notes  and  collecting  infonna- 
ttoii.  a  tumult  arises  behind  mc  in  the  camp  ;  I  run  to 
inquire  what  it  is,  and  find  one  of  our  moukns  qiuirreiling 
with  one  of  Abou-Daouk's  DJalialins.  The  Bedouin,  who 
haa  been  trying  to  pilfer  something,  finding  himself  rudely 
grappled  by  our  muleteer,  has  seized  his  khandjar  and 
prepares  to  stab  Mm.  Mohanitucd  springs  up,  interjioses, 
and  is  pitshed  hack  ;  he  then  draws  his  pistol  coolly  and 
is  going  to  shoot  the  Bedouin.  1  arrive  just  in  time  to 
stop  him.  But  all  tlie  Djahalins  have  been  attracted  by  fl 
the  noise  ;  I  appreliended  they  would  side  with  their 
compatriot,  and  am  rather  surprised,  I  confess,  to  see 
them  without  hesitation  loading  him  with  maledictions  for 
having  attempted  to  rob  the  people  who  had  taken  (hem 
into  pay.  Not  conlont  with  tliat,  they  ctpel  him  di^-acc- 
fully,  pelting  him  with  stones.  I  shall  never  forgot  this 
acone ;  stones  as  large  as  a  man's  fist  were  hurled  at  the 
head  and  shoulders  of  the  unfortunate  wretcli,  who,  %vjt]i- 
out  uttering  a  complaint,  slowly  retired  and  disappeared 
in  the  tbickot.  To  bare  asked  pardon  for  him  might  haw 
been  a  bad  example  -,  I  therelbre  allowed  tlie  Justice  of 
the  Djahalins  to  take  its  course,  though  slmdilcring 
with  horror  at  the  sight  of  such  an  immediate  and  severe 
chastisement. 

1  saw  this  man  no  more ;  and  trust  he  has  not  pcriahod 
miserably  in  the  Uhor !     Wounded,  without  food,  driven 


I 


QUB8T10N8  ON   THE  STATE    OP  FUANCE. 


301 


[  froni  the  tents  of  Iiis  tribe,  to  whicli  litj  was  perhaps  forhi J 
retuni,  I  much  fear  his  wauJorinj^  were  soon  oiitled. 
I  was  still  under  the  slrong  emotion  produced  by  this 
^aample  of  Anib  mannei-s,  when  Samet  Aly  and  Selaraeh 
inie  up,  with  Uio  brother  of  the  latter,  a  fine  IiHn<Iaome 
(man,  about  thirty-five  years  old,  and  Scheikh  of  tlic 
encampment  whore  wo  have  just  passed  the  night,  to 
ivitc  me  to  take  coffee  in  the  tent  of  the  last-iiamed 
''gcntlemaD.  I  went  with  them  at  once,  and  found  iu  a 
spacious  tent,  furni.shed  with  mats  and  carpets,  but 
luite  open  to  the  east,  a  numerous  compaoy  of  dis- 
tinguished members  of  the  tribe  of  tlie  IJeni-Sakliar. 
The  Sclieikha  all  wore  under  their  abayas  the  long  scarlet 
robe,  wliich  seems  a  mark  of  supremacy.  Our  cavaliers, 
Hamdan  and  Abou-Daouk  at  their  head,  were  already 
collected  in  the  tent,  and  1  was  welcomed  wtli  every 
lark  of  politeness  and  civility. 

After  the  pipes,  coffee   was  introduced  ;    but  what 

coffee !    The  ii<iuor  I  was  compelled  to  swallow  under 

"^tliia   false   name    was   an    absolute    decoction  of  cloves. 

Of  course  I  looked  as  if  I  tliought  it  dc;]icious.  and  the 

juTcrsatioD  turned  upon  France.    I  was  asked  huudreclB 

jf  questions  on  the  power  and  resources  of  the  country, 

[the  number  of  our  armies,  gims.  cavalry,  and  ships.  Every 

tmoment    came     in    the  magical    name   of  licntnalaHeh, 

and  I  had  much  difficulty  in  explaining  to  my  hearers 

the  meaning  of  a  republic  I     "  Why  !  how  !  you  have  no 

sultan!"  exclaimed  they,  with  one  voice.     "Impossible! 

But  you  cannot  go  on   so  I   you  must  have  a  siiltan  1 

A  country  without  a  sultan  is  like  a  horse  without  a 

rider,  or  a  tribe  without  a  scheikh."     I  did  not  try  to 

p&r.suade  them  tlial  a  ditfcrent  Hystoni  might  succeed  witJi 


S02 


DEPARTURE   FROM   THB   ESCAMPMEST. 


•I 
1 


tis  ;  far  I  should  have  infftllihiy  wasted,  if  not  my  Latitvl 
tlic  tittle  Arabic  of  which  I  am  nuu^ter. 

The  proverb  sap,  "  the  best  fi-ieuds  must  part,"  so 
took  leave  of  my  kind  hosts  and  turned  back  to  our  own 
oocampmciit,   carrying  away  with   me  uumcroua  liring 
tc^ens  of  the  hospitality  I  bad  been  honoured  with.     L 
verily  believe  that  every  one  of  the  gentlemen  present  at' 
the  interview,  had  liberally  presented  me  with  some  of  ^ 
the  inmates  of  hii;  inner  drcsH, — acquisitions  not  easily  got] 
rid  of,  and  increasing  in  number  as  often  as  we  repeated] 
our  visits. 

At  a  few  minutt!s  before  nine  we  resumed  our  marchj 
proceeding  nearly  due  north,  but  inclining  a  little  to  the 
west  The  entrance  of  the  Ouad-Katzrabba  is  about 
eight  hundred  yards  distant,  to  the  right  of  the  encamp- 
ment we  are  just  leaving.  On  the  left  begins  immediately 
a  low  jungle,  extending  about  two  hundred  yards  deep. 

that  appears  the  usual  border  of  reeds  lining  the  ^ 
We  are  now  facing  the  bottom  of  the  gulf,  fonucd  ™ 
by  the  aoulhcrn  point  of  the  peninsula  of  Kl-Lisan  or  H  ^n 
Mazniah,  for  both  names  are  ^veii  to  it  indifferontlyi  fl 
Numerous   acacias  are  scattered  here  and  there  in  iht 
sandy  soil  of  the  plain,  which  divides  ns  from  the   foot 
of  the  mountains  of  Moab.     Two  ravines  furrow  the  side 
of  the  mountain  nearest  to  us.     The  first  supplies  issue 
to  the    Ouad-lvat;^rabba  ;    the   other    lias  no  particular 
name  that  I  can  ascertain. 

A  high  mountain  rises  in  the  distance.  By  five 
minutes  past  nine,  vrc  are  opposite  the  higlicHt  point  of 
the  eminence  limiting  the  plaiu  eastward ;  and  almost 
immedi-ately  opens,  to  our  right,  the  Onad-el-EsaL 
Beyond   the  bed   of  the    torrent    proceeding  from  this 


I 


ANTIQUE   ClSTBilN. 


»08 


onnfl.  which  in  the  rainy  season  sweeps  along  masses  of 
rolled  pebbles,  strewng  the  pinin,  furrowed  hy  numerous 
lavtnes,  we  march  over  ground  covered  with  small  jungle. 

■(This  ground  is  hounded  eastward,  and  at  the  distance  of 

^wnly  a  few  hundred  yards,  by  low  eminences  of  grey  sand. 

^nnd  westward  by  moimds  of  a  whitish  colour,  similar  to 

"tliose  at  Sebbeh,  their  chain  beginning  Bomcthing  les« 
than  two  miles  to  our  left. 

By  sixteen  minutes  past  nine  we  arc  nearly  at  the  foot 
of  the  sandy  eminences  on  our  right.  These  s«em  to  have 
Itad  tJieir  sides  cleft  perpendicularly,  and  conceal  from  us, 
at  interrats.  the  liigli  mountains  of  Tlloab.  By  half-past, 
nine  we  cross  a  considerable  ravine,  the  bed  of  which 
issues  out  of  the  eminences  on  the  right,  and  enter  a 
small  plain  strewed  with  rolled  pebbles  and  planted  with 
mimosa^!.  Its  level  is  higher  than  that  of  the  peninsula. 
The  range  of  white  sandy  mounds  covering  the  peninsula 
draws  rapidly  near  ws,  and  in  ten  minutes  our  road  takes 

^us   through    them,    whilst    wo    keep    on   still   marching 

H|u6  north. 

^^  By  thirty-two  minutes  past  nine  we  pa.'a  close  to  a 
large  auti()uo  cistern,  square  in  shape,  and  twenty-eight 
yards  long  on  either  side.  The  eastern  face  is  connected 
with  a  conduit  or  (^anal  built  of  large  stones,  which 
turns  off  suddenly  at  right  angles  towards  the  north,  atid 

I     ig  traceable  to  a  considerable  distance. 

^p  By  forty-one  minutes  past  uiuo  the  mounds  divide 
before  us,  and  form  a  small  oblong  plain,  three  hundred 

I  yards  long  by  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards  wide.  By 
forty-three  minutes  past  nine  we  fall  in  again  with  the 

I  crumbling  hillocks,  so  frequently  encountered  since  our 
leaving  Bebbok,  along  both  sides  of  the  Dead  8ca.     We 


30 1 


PLAIK   OF   EI^MRZR,\An. 


1 


tiien  proceed  for  about  threo  minutes  north-north 
and  at  forty-nix  minutes  past  nioc  we  incline  to  north- 
uorili-u-cst,  and  keep  this  course  for  a.  comiiderablo  timo^ 
Xenrly  five  miles  distant  to  our  right  is  a  cluster  of  high 
mountains,  forming  the  group  of  the  Djebel-Kharadjeh, 
or  Kharazeh,  according  to  the  different  pronunciations  ol 
our  Bedouins. 

By  forty-eight  minntus  past   nine    we  cross    a    small 
valley  about  sixty  yards  in  width,  filled  with  brsmbles 
and  raimosas.    This  valley  is  bounded  towards  the  nortlifl 
by   a    small    water-course,   fnnged    with    many   trees. 
Beyond   we   meet  again   tlie  white    mounds,    but  now  — 
observe  on  every  one  of  them  the  red  stains  of  rolcauicrl 
ejections,  which  we  had  remarked  on  the  opposite  slior^ 
as  establishing  the  existence  of  craters. 

The  country  through  which  we  are  now  passing 
called  Ardh-el-Esal  (the  Land  of  Prickly  Shnihs).  By' 
fifty-five  minutes  past  nine  we  cross  another  ravine. 
Beyond  commences  a  plain  besprinkled  with  pebbles 
and  brambles,  lying  between  the  grey  mounds  at  the  foot 
of  the  high  mountains,  and  those  covering  nearly  the 
whulo  of  the  peninsula.  The  first  commence  at  one 
hundred  and  fifty  yards  to  our  right,  the  others  are 
distant  nearly  a  mile  and  a  lialf.  The  seyiils,  or  mimo^^^ 
continue  to  display  themselves  in  great  numbers.  ^^| 

By  nine  minutes  past  ten  we  reach  the  bed  of  a  riruUi 
lined  with  thicit  brambles.  The  mounds  are  then  distant 
two  hmidred  yards  to  the  right,  and  a  tliousand  yards  to 
the  left.  We  have  altered  our  direction  once  more,  hear- 
ing now  north-north-east.  The  vast  Ie\'el  we  are  entering 
is  called  the  plain  of  Bl-Mezr&ali.  Ruins  similar  to  those 
of  En-Kcma)ireh  appear  to  oar  right;   they   are    called 


4 


PLAIN   OP   KL-MEKRAAR. 


305 


EnithaU.  By  twenty  miniite«  jmst  ten  we  pass  three 
K  rivulets  close  to  each  other,  i-uniniig  hetwoeii  mimosas, 
^  through  groutiiht  which  have  becu  well  cultivated.     We 

I  then  fall  in  with  otlier  riiiits  on  the  left ;  tliesn  nre  known 
to  the  Arabs  by  the  name  of  Kharbet-os-Saietbch. 
By  twenty-six  minntes  past  ton  we  are  only  two  hundred 
and  fifty  yards  distant  from  the  foot  of  an  immense  per- 
pendicular rock,  coniniandiiig.  on  its  northern  bank,  a  large 
valley  tliat  winds  westward  through  the  high  mountains. 
[This  valley  is  tlie  Ouad-el-Kaiuk.  called  also  the  Ouad-oil- 
[Dr&o,  from  the  name  of  the  beautiful  water-course  flowing 
om  it  and  fertilising  the  plain  of  Kl-MezrAah.     Along  the 
foot  of  the  chflK  are  scattered  other  ruins  named  by  the 
Lrabs  Taouabin-os-Soukkar  (the  Sugar  Mills).     At  this 
Qiut  a  large    well-watered  plain    opens   in    our    front, 
pounded  on  the  west  by  the  grey  moundu,  and  distant 
ire  or  six  Uiousaud  yards  :  this  is  the  Uhur-el-Mczrdali. 

We  lose  several  minutes  examining  the  ground  and 

crossing  several  rivulets,  and  stop  at  last  for  breakfiu^it, 

by  thirty-two  minutes  past  ten.  on  the  hanks  of  the  stream 

colled  Nahr-ed-Draa  (tlio  Uivor  of  the  Ann),    preeisely 

^opposite  the  spot  where  the  Ouad-ol-Karak  opens. 

H     Whilst  we  are  breakfasting,  some  of  our  Arabs   take 

Hadvantage  of  the  opportunity  to  indulge  in  a  bath.     They 

"strip  and  plunge  into  the  stream  ;  but,  as  the  stream  is 

our  only  decanter,  we  request  our  friends  to  have  the 

Eodness  to  perform  their  ablutions  a  little  lower  down, — 
refjucst  that  seems  greatly  to  surprise  them.  They 
ink  us  absurdly  fastidieus  and  delicate  ;  but  they  comply, 
d  we  require  no  more. 
After  our  temperate  repast  we  explore  the  ground  we 
have  halted  on,  and  obtain  .in  ample  collection  of  inscctN 


VOt.  L 


506 


PLAIir   OP   EI.-MK7.ltAAH — III'IXH. 


and  some  pretty  little  flowering  plants.  We  would  vrH- 
Ungly  remain  nmch  longer,  but  our  Schcikhs,  who  hare 
no  great  taste  for  botany,  m-ge  as  so  anxiously  to  resume 
our  march,  that  we  mount  nf^in  by  thirty-nine  minutes 
past  eleven. 

Yesterday's  heat  vt&s  notliing  compared  with  that  of 
to-day.  and  the  July  sun  in  France  is  seldom  us  fierce  as 
tliat  the  rays  of  which  are  Hcorchiug  us  iu.-re  on  tlie 
fifteenth  of  January.  We  march  north-north-west  througli 
continued  ruins.  Twelve  hunilred  yards  distant  to  oar 
right  the  white  hillocks  appear  again,  coinmanded  by  the 
summits  of  the  Djcbol-Adjorrali ;  these  last  appear  to  be 
nearly  nine  miles  distant  from  our  road. 

At  forty-eight  minutes  pa^it  eleren  we  are  proceeding 
exactly  north-west,  and  still  through  ruins.  By  fifl^'-six 
minutes  past  eleven,  after  having  resumed  our  former 
course,  and  gone  through  cultivated  grounds  witli  stubUes 
of  Doura  still  standing  in  them,  we  cross  a  running  stream, 
simihir  to  the  one  near  which  we  halted  tliis  morning,  and 
bearing  the  Bame  name,  Ed-DrAa.  This  appears  to  be  a 
second  branch  of  the  stream  flowing  from  the  Oua<l-eI- 
Karak,  and  carrying  fertility  tliroughout  the  RIi6r-cl- 
MezrAah.  This  sti-eam,  before  wc  cross  it.  runs  for  some 
time  parallel  to  our  route,  viz.,  in  a  north-north-westerly 
direction  ;  then,  beyond  the  ford,  it  turns  westward  to 
reach  the  sea.  On  the  opposite  bank  a  plain  opens, 
strewed  with  rolled  pebbles,  and  tolerably  well  pbuiied 
with  trees.  The  mimosas  and  Areqa  show  thomsi'lvea 
again  amongst  thickets  and  dense*  brambles  :  this  kind  of 
woody  region  exten^ls  about  two  thousand  yards  to  our 
ri^t. 

During  the  next  quarter  ol'an  liour  we  fall  in  with  other 


307 


rivulets  niiuiing  from  cast  to  west.  Since  inid-day  we  are 
marching  in  a  close  jungle,  like  that  of  the  RhAr-Safidii» 
aud  in  wliicU  tlic  Asdejiia  jinwera  a[>[ieai's  again  in  groat 
profusion.  Another  wooded  plain  is  pointed  out  to  the 
north,  nearly  two  miles  distant,  and  eiillcd  El-Hadits. 
Our  Arabs,  who  liold  the  Rhaouanios  of  EI-Mozr^h  in 
great  contempt,  tell  me  tliat  we  are  in  the  Hhor  of  the 
Beni-Oqhft, — iu  llicir  opinion  a  much  nobler  tribe  tlmu  that 
of  the  miserable  Bedouins,  half  fellahs,  who  dwell  iu  tliis 
placf.  Heaven  only  can  tell  how  1  In  their  eyes,  all  who 
do  not  live  a  wandering  life  are  low  and  miserable 
wretches. 

Bv  a  quarter  pait  twelve,  after  having  crossed  the  last- 
mentioned  rivulet,  beyond  which  the  ground  is  riddled  with 
lioltis  and  gapti,  sueli  as  are  usually  found  where  tt^inporary 
fortifications  have  been  erected,  we  come  up  to  a  kiud  of 
[Tillage,  composed  of  tents  and  huts  of  mud  and  boughs: 
this  i&  the  permanent  station  KI-HczriiAh,  where  dwell, 
^throughout  the  year,   the  Arabs  of  tlie  poor  tribe  of 
[Rhaouama.     Here  we  alight,  and  our  tenta  are  hastily 
'  pitched  ;  the  sun  is  insuflerably  oppressive,  and  we  hope 
for  shelter  under  our  ordinary  canvas  roof.    But  we  are 
kscarcely  able  to  remain  within.     We  gasp  for  brcatli,  and, 
(to  exercise  our  usual  avocations,  are  obliged  to  ilii-ow  aside 
[our  clothes.     In  a  few  minutes  we  are  invaded  by  our  new 
[hosts.     These  are  accomplished  tliicves,  and  their  constant 
attempts  at  larceny  produce  continual  quarrels  and  mis- 
[miderstandings.     I  feel  little  inclined  to  leave  the  tent,  but 
our  couipanions  proceed  to  shoot  some  turtle-doves  in  the 
^immediate  neighbourhood.     I  bare  advised  them  not  to 
[vouturc  far,  for  fear  of  accidents,  as  1  have  no  great  oonfi- 
ace  iu  our  position. 

\  3 


308 


A   KOCTFKNAl.   ALARM. 


A  sort  of  Scheikh  in  rags  proves  a  convenient  ally,  by 
<!riving  away  from  tiiiic  to  time,  with  a  stout  cucigol,  the 
rascnls  who  keep  perpetually  gli<ling  in  amongst  us  in  scarcb 
of  any  plunJcr  tJicy  can  lay  tlieir  hamls  on.  Violent  and 
continued  disputes  ensue.  First,  leathern  girthit  and 
hoUtera  are  carried  off  &x)m  our  saddles ;  theu  poultry, 
bread,  tobacco,  and  oven  tlio  pniTision  of  dry  w<*nd  wtdch 
our  Arabs  have  brought  for  the  kitchen  and  bivouac  firos. 
All  this  bodes  »(>tno  gathering  miscliiof,  aiid  I  look  with 
anxiety  on  the  probable  conacquonccs. 

Hy  companions  soon  return,  dissatisfied  and  dtsap- 
pointeiL  1  mention  my  apprehoiisiunK,  and  want  them  to 
sec  tluit  their  arms  arc  in  good  order,*and  to  be  on  tlto 
alert  in  case  of  any  nocturnal  alarm. 

Ifiglit  has  closed  in,  and  all  remains  perfectly  calm. 
The  intnidora  have  retired  to  their  huts,  and  some  who 
had  obstinately  installed  themselves  in  our  kitclien  are 
expelled  without  ccremuny.  Dinner  is  at  la-st  announced. 
and  all  do  honour  to  the  meal  with  their  accustomed 
appetite. 

Towai-ds  eight  o'clock  we  are  all  at  work,  dreaming  of 
no  inteiTuption,  when  suddenly  a  tremendous  noise  bursts 
out  in  all  directions.  Each  of  us  kys  down  his  pea  to 
listen.  At  that  moment  Abotiad  rushes  in  witli  flashing 
eyas,  crying  loudly,  "  Ya  sidy,  khod  el  baroudy  ! "  ("  Jly 
lord,  take  your  gun.")  I  needed  no  second  warning. 
All  our  fi'iends  understand  hira,  aud  scarcely  require  the 
word  "  to  anus  I "  which  1  re|>eat  wbilst  snatching  up  my  M 
own  weapon.  In  less  time  than  I  take  to  relate  it,  wo  ™ 
were  all  in  fi'tmt  of  the  tent. 

At  this  moment  tbe  tumult  would  have  drowned  tlie 
noise  of  thunder.  ■  Amidst  clouds  of  dust,   under  tlie 


I 


50fl 


finest  moniilight  in   the  world,  tlio  men  arc  Khoiiting, 
the  d(^  jclliiij^  loutlcr  than  the  men,  and   the   women 

IHcreatning  their  hon-iJ  Iiowl,  still  loiuler  than  the  dogs, 
lou-lou-Iou-loiJ,  whicii  tliej  Hen<!  forth  wlien  choy  are 
either  sad  or  joyful,  and  also  as  a  war-cry  to  stimulate 
the  martial  ardour  of  their  husbands.  It  is  jdaiii  we 
I  are  attack(>il :  by  whom,  and  with  what  object  1  Wo 
know  not  exactly,  but  we  may  guess.  The  Rhaouamas 
are   tired  of  robbing   us  in  detail,  and  have  made   up 

t their   minds    to    summary    proceedings    and  a   general 
massacre. 
Our  position  is  critical.     If  vanqiiUhed,  we  are  lost ; 
Rt  any  hiaard  wc  must  struggle  for  a  decisive  victory. 
Moliammed  and  some  of  our  TliAamems  are  near  us  ; 
^■Jlohammcd  remains  calm  and  collected  ;  the   Arabs  arc 
^Bn   a   fever  of  cceitcmcnt ;    matchlocks,   yataghaim,   and 
Hidiaiidjars  are   handled    conmltiively.    waiting    for  tbo 
moment  to  strike  through  thick  and  thin.     Our  moukria 
themselves   feci    there    is  no   Iio]ie  but  in  tlio  defeat  of 
^wour  enemies,   and  each  has  grnspcd  at  anything  wilhin 
^^njacli,  in  the  shape  of  a  weapon.     Onu  of  them,  named 
^Beitouny,  an  honest  fellow  who  does  nothing  but  sleep 
^■md  laugh,  and  who  up  to  this  moment  has  evinced  no 
ca|»abilities  for  aiiytliing  else,  brandishes  something  like 
the  trunk  of  a  tree,  with  which  he  is  ready  to  knock  down 
at  a  blow  ten  of  these  raswiUy  Khaouarnas. 

The  Nubian,  Selim,  of  wliom    1    have  alreaiiy  spoken 

more  than  once,  does  not  at  all  approve  of  the  decided 

'     attitude  of  our  moukrts.      He  thinks  it  may  iu6ame  eveu 

^kurc  highly  the  anger  of  the  assailanUi,    and    tries   to 

^persuade  lleitouny  to  keep  cjtiiet.     He  even  endeavoum 

disaru)  him  of  his  eUtb ;  but  Schariar  having  elected 


310 


I'ltBi'ABATlONS   FUR   A   BTOVT  DE7BKCB. 


himself  cfHnmandcr-m-cliicf  of  the  moiikris,  is  stauding 
bnivciv  at  tlieir  licnd  with  a  drawn  sword  in  his  liand, 
and  with  a  hcany  cuif  sends  poor  Selim  sta^ering  off  to 
the  distance  of  at  loaat  ten  paces. 

IThc  Qoiise  increases ;  irom  time  to  time  we  descry, 
through  the  dust,  a  hontrnan  gesticulating  like  a  doroou. 
Our  friends  arc  in  the  saddlt^  and  hnfc  comiQenocd 
operations. 

Whilst  (hey  are  tilting  vigorously  against  the  Khaou- 
amas,  1  draw  up  our  forces  on  a  single  line,  a  few  paces 
distant  from  each  other,  so  a.s  to  allow  perfect  freedom 
to  all  their  motions,  and  1  recommend,  more  stroriuoiwly 
than  ever,  prudence  and  self-posaession.  I  forbid  tlicm 
to  tire  a  single  sliot  until  I  tiet  tlie  example;  and  we  wiiit 
our  turn  to  join  in  the  dance.  Edward  is  my  left-hand 
man.  We  shake  hands  as  I  whisper  to  him  that  our 
]K>sition  seems  desperate,  and  we  must  bo  prepared  to 
sell  our  lives  as  dearly  as  we  can.  "  Be  content,"  is  the 
answer  of  the  brave  lad,  "  I  shall  die  as  I  ottght.*' 

In  a  few  minutes,  however,  the  ycUs  decrease,  thcii 
cease  suddenly  ;  the  dust  evaporates,  and  all  our  Arabe, 
one  aft«r  the  other,  range  themselves  round  tis.  Noae 
are  missing,  but  their  swords  are  red  with  hlood,  aiid  it  is 
pretty  clear  they  have  not  been  in  idle  hands. 

The-  brother  of  Sehimeh,  the  same  who  had  offered  me 
coffee  in  the  morning,  is  the  most  excited  of  the  party. 
He  takes  me  hy  the  haad  aud  says,  smiling— "  All  is 
over,  now ;  a  few  good  sabre  cuts  have  settled  tlio 
business.  Fear  nothing,  thou  art  our  friend,  and  we 
are  here  to  defend  thee."  Abon-Daouk  comes  iu  Ust: 
he  laughs  louder  than  ever  as  lie  returns  bis  sword  to  the 
scabbard.     Ilani<]an.  if  possible,  tauglis  less  than  usual. 


I 


INTENDED   PLPITOBR  nUtVEKTKD. 


811 


"What  is  all  thU  about?"  I  inqiuro.  "  WLat  lias 
happened  1 "  Abou-Daouk  explains.  Two  emissaries 
from  tlic  trilw  of  IJoni-Ocjbii  have  come  to  claim,  with 
oEfonsivc  hauteur,  the  riglit  to  protect  us,  which  means, 
of  courae,  to  give  anotlier  xqiieeze  to  our  money  tiags. 
They  have  hati  the  impiideiit^o  to  announce  that^  if  their 
demands  arc  not  complied  with,  they  will  prevent  ua 
from  pasKJng  tbrougb  their  territory.  Our  fnentls  an- 
swered that  we  would  rido  over  them,  sword  in  hand  ; 
and  thereupon,  kicked  out  tlie  ambassadors,  with  a  few 
iiupplemcntary  cuts  acroxH  the  lace. 

We  thought  it  ratlior  odd  that  a  battle  where  tlie 
hostile  ai-my  numbered  only  two  men,  .should  have  occa- 
sioutnl  sucti  a  drouilful  clatter,  and  that  Ahuuad  on  so 
paltry  an  alarm  should  liave  shouted  to  ub  all  to  prepare 
for  action.  We  had  good  reason  to  be  astonished,  for  the 
whole  story  toKl  by  Abou-Daouk  proved  to  be  a  fable, 
and  nothing  else.  It  was  not  until  some  time  after  tliat 
we  learned  the  tnitb.  The  fijct  was,  the  entire  tribe  of 
i\\e  Rhaoiiarna.'i  had  conspired  to  plunder  our  mmp  ;  but 
our  friends  were  vigilant,  and  the  ft-w  hundreds  of  badly 
armed  banditti,  who  had  hoped  to  meet  with  little  or  no 
reeistanco  from  a  handful  of  wearied  travellers,  liad  been 
so  rudely  received  with  sword  and  lance,  that  they  had 
deemeil  it  more  prudent  tn  give  way  and  abandon  their 
benevolent  dttiign.  Biaidfs,  tlicy  knew  that  by  persever- 
ing, they  woidd  ultimately  bring  down  upon  them  the 
whole  tribe  of  the  Beni-Sakliar-s  which  would  surely  end 
ID  tlic  cxtonnination  of  their  miserable  village.  Accord- 
ingly, as  soon  as  the  most  danng  bad  been  dinposed  of, 
the  remainder  Ded  in  all  directions  ;  the  wounded  to  bathe 
aiid  bind  up  their  cut^  and  bniiKes,  the  others  to  he  down 


812 


UKPAKTUItE   FOB   THR   KNCAMI'MENT. 


in  tlieir  tenU  atid  look  as  imiocent  aii<l  unconccrnei]  as 
if  they  liaJ  ui  uo  maniitir  been  mixed  up  vitli  the 
skinuLsh. 

As  soon  as  (]ui«t  is  rostured  agaio,  our  friends  arc 
laugliiog  and  cbatling  mcrril}'  round  the  6re8,  wliilst  not 
a  sound  is  heard  in  the  direction  of  the  village.  We  visit 
the  bivouacs,  thanking  our  Arabs,  who  look  quite  deligtited 
at  the  opportunity  of  proving  their  fidelity.  As  we  think, 
however,  that  it  in  wiser  titill  to  depend  upon  oureclvcs,  we 
decide  to  mount  guard  by  turns.  Soon  the  moUy  oa 
duty  is  the  only  man  awake  ;  the  others  sleep  wiiliin  reach 
of  their  weapons,  a^  calmly  as  if  notliiug  cxtrnordinary 
liail  happened.  Om-  vigilance  proved  superfluous,  for  the 
night,  enlivened  by  a  brilliant  moon,  was  disturbed  no 
more  by  any  untoward  iucident. 

Jmmart  IB'*- 

^Vhen  we  rise  this  morning,  tlic  akirmish  of  lost  night 
appears  to  be  forgotten ;  the  Uhaouarnas  arc  raucli  less 
numerous  round  our  camp,  and  those  who  venture  in 
Iiave  become  polite  and  obliging.  They  contrive  to 
extort  from  us  now,  by  dint  of  beggary,  some  tobacco, 
but  nothing  mor&  The  ragged  Scheikh,  who  thrashed 
his  subjects  yesterday  witli  such  good-will,  is  the  only 
one  who  comes  to  chat  with  us,  and  as  every  Ubourer 
deserves  his  reward,  we  jneseut  him  with  twenty  piastres. 
The  rate  \&  less  Uian  a  haHpenny  a  blow,  and  this  is  the 
first  time  that  we  havu  traded  in  Bedouin  merchandise  on 
such  fair  conditions. 

We  arc  anxious  to  get  off,  but  as  we  still  give  crt-Jit 
to  Abou-Daouk's  invention  concerning  the  Boni-Otjbiis, 
we  s;uspoct  aii  ambueca  le  from  the  tribe  whose  pretca- 
ftions  have  been  so  haughtily  rejected,  and  we  pi-cpare 


I 


i 


JOURNRY   CONTINURD. 


31 » 


.  accordingly.  Papigny  especially  excites  our  mirtli,  as  he 
tAirauges  as  many  vartridgct;  as  lie  cau,  within  reach  of 
Ids  liand.  "  Laugh,  laugh,"  says  he,  "  hut  you  don't 
kno\r  these  rascals ;  there's  always  a  nest  of  them  in 
ovory  bush,  and  you'll  hear  the  balls  whistle  souiier  than 
you  may  like." 

Luckily  the  Boni-Oqbils  thought  lightly  of  the  blows 
they  had  received,  and  Papigny's  prophecy,  though  a 
wise  one,  was  not  rcnliMt:J. 

By  six  minutes  past  eight  wo  were  all  in  the  saddle, 
taking  short   leave    of  the    hosts  who  had  received  us 
with  sucii  hospitality.     Wo  marched  at  first  through  the 
[copse  o^  Asdfpias  and  Areqs  in  a  north-north -easterly 
direction.     The  sea-ahoro  is  there  four  hundred  yards  to 
our  left,  where  it  forms  a  small  gulf    From  ten  to  twenty- 
five  minutes  past  eight   we    turn   cast-north-east ;  from 
Kixteen  to  twenty-three  minutes  past  eight  the   thicket 
becomes  very  dense ;  we  then  emerge  from  it  upon  a 
I  beach  covered  with  brambles,  only  two  hundred  yard* 
'  wide  between  us  and  the  shore.     By  twenty-five  minutes 
past  eight  wc  cross  a  muddy  ravine,  beyond  which  is  a 
I  small  sandy  plain  saturated  with  water.     Shortly  aftcr- 
I  wards  we  enter  again  the  thicket  of  Areff  trees. 

By  thirty-three  minutes  past  eight  tlic  road  begins  to 
and ;  and  by  forty-three  minutes  past  eight  wc  wind 
a  ravine  bounded  by  a  wall,  which  turns  off  at 
'angles  to  our  left,  winding  by  the  right  around  a 
lock,  the  summit  of  which,  two  hundred  yards  distant 
I  from  us,  is  surmounted  by  the  ruins  of  a  tower.  On  this 
Iside  of  the  wall  are  heaps  of  rubbish  similar  to  those  of 
f  Kn-N enmirfli.  By  forty-five  minutes  past  eight  we  cross 
j  nnotlier  wall,  and  liave  ou  our  right  another  hillock,  upon 


814 


SOUTK  CHAKQBD  TO  TUK   LAND  OF  UOAB. 


which  appear  the  minx  of  two  square  buitdingK.  These 
ruius  arc  named  Kltarbct-abd-er-Kahim.  TIic  heaps  of 
rubbish  are  numerous  throughout  the  whole  extent  of 
ground  over  which  we  are  toorching,  and  also  upon  the 
eminence  around  the  two  square  encloKures. 

By  fortjf-six  minutes  past  eight,  wo  enter  a  krgc 
ravine  abundantly  grown  over  witb  reels  and  willows 
(Safijr  lialii/loitica),  through  whicli  runs  a  river,  named 
Scil-Ouad-chni-Hammid  (tlio  Torrent  of  the  Ouad-ebni- 
Hammid).  Tcii  minutes  arc  requu-ed  to  ford  tliis 
stream  after  having  followed  its  bed  for  somo  time  ;  and 
by  fifly-eight  minutes  past  eight  we  reach  the  other  bank. 
Wo  then  enter  a  ralley  shut  in  between  perpendicular 
rocks.  This  is  the  Ouad-el-])jcrrah  or  Adjcrrali.  1  was 
unable  to  make  out  the  exact  orthography  of  this  word, 
though  from  what  I  re(;ollect  of  tJio  sound,  I  prefer  the 
Liat  form. 

Jiefore  starting,  we  had  held  a  council  with  the 
Scheikhs  of  our  escort,  for  tlic  purpose  of  selecting  the 
route  we  were  to  follow  throughout  the  day.  They 
told  UM  that  it  wa^i  practiciible  enough  to  push  on  as  far  as 
the  bank  of  the  Ouad-el-Moudjeb,  meaning  the  Arnon ; 
but  that  we  should  not  be  able  to  ford  that  river ;  and 
besides,  were  we  to  succeed,  we  should  find  bnyond  it  a 
heacli  so  narrow  as  to  be  impassable  ;  and  finally,  the 
Jordan  too  much  swollen  to  cross  at  this  season  of  the 
year.  The»c  Kound  reasons  concurring  with  uur  desire  to 
visit  the  Land  of  >Ioab,  determined  ufi  to  proceed  to  the 
Itjgh  couniiy,  and  to  enter  the  Moabitic  mountains  by 
tlie  Oiuul-Adjerrah. 

I  know  not  whether  the  assertion  of  our  Scheikhs  caq 
be  thoroughly  depended  uu ;  alt  that  I    can  aihiiu  u. 


RBMAm   or   RUHAN   RTBIICTDRR& 


S!5 


that  looking  from  a  diirtance  towarcis  tlie  points  vbore 
the  Ouad-cI-Moudjcb  aud  tlio  Ouail-Zerka-Mavn  termi- 
iiatc;  the  iQouutaius  seem  to  dip  into  the  Doad  Sea, 
without  any  intermediate  beach ;  all  green  vegetation 
ceasing  beyond  the  \\'ooded  plain  which  I  have  already 
spoken  of.  and  which  lh  named  El-Haditit.  lu  otttoi- 
respects  there  would  have  been  no  difficulty  in  reaching 
the  southern  bank  of  the  Oiiad-el-Moudjeb  ;  and  from  Bl- 
Mezri'iah,  a  liiarch  of  two  hours  at  the  utmost  would  have 
been  enough  to  take  us  there. 

The  Ouad-AdjeiTah,  at  the  place  wltcro  wo  hare 
entered  it,  oinms  directly  ca^itward,  and  wc  begin  our 
ascent  immediately,  following  all  its  windings.  Our  rood 
is  merely  a  ravine,  choked  with  gravel ;  that  is  to  nay, 
the  bed  of  an  actiuil  tori'eiits  on  the  right  and  left  of 
which  appear  ratlicr  high  eminences.  By  five  minutes 
past  nine  wo  march  east-south-east,  to  resume,  a  few 
minutes  later,  our  course  due-ea-st. 

Wo  keep  advancing  across  lofty  omiuencos,  reaching 
then*  crest  by  nine  minutes  past  nine.  We  are  then 
between  four  and  five  miles  distant  from  a  high  mountain, 
the  brown  rocks  of  which  are  split  as  if  they  Imd  been 
rent  by  fire.  To  our  left  is  an  elevated  plain  overspread 
with  white  raounthi,  and  inclining  towards  the  Dead  Sea, 
Before  us  is  an  abrupt  valley,  one  hundred  yards  deep  at 
the  least,  and  two  hundred  yards  wide,  turuing  towards 
the  ca£t-north-cast.  This  is  called  the  Ouad-ebni- 
Ilaromid. 

By  sixteen  minutes  pa^it  nuie,  we  find  on  our  road  a 
ruined  tower,  at  the  precise  spot  where  the  road  makes 
a  sudden  elbow  towards  the  south  to  wind  round  the 
basis  of  a  pointed  cliff  of  brown,  rent  rock.     By  twenty- 


316 


B8MA1MS  OF   HOUAN   OTKUCTUUS. 


two  uiitiutcs  past  nine  wc  cross  the  ruins  of  an  anciobl 
wall,  beyond  which  begin  to  appear  tlie  continued  vestiges 
of  a  pave^l  roa<l,  flanked  right  and  Icfl  upon  at)  the 
neiglihouriug  ciniucnccs  with  ruins  of  towers  and  struc- 
tures, intended  evidently  as  defensive  fortifications  to 
protect  the  eountry  to  which  tJiis  road  gave  access.  I  have 
no  doubt  tliat  the  Roman  way  leading  from  Jenisalein  to 
Areopoliti  passed  by  the  Ouad-ehni-IIammid,  which  was 
occupied  by  uiilitary  stations  throughout  its  whole  extent. 

At  half-past  nine  we  are  stilt  marching  eastward,  and 
we  wind  along,  at  the  (hstance  of  only  fifteen  yards,  the 
nocdic-shaped,  rent  sides  of  a  dark-colourcil  rock.  Right 
and  left  appear  incessantly  the  ruins  of  defen.sive  posts  or 
towers,  wliich  formerly  intoreeptijd  the  passage,  counetrted 
frequently  by  walls.  By  thirty-seven  minutes  past  nine 
we  come  to  a  nniall  eminence,  two  hundred  yards  in 
extent,  at  the  entrance  of  which,  to  the  left  of  the  road, 
appears  the  foundation  of  a  large  rotiiid  tower,  called 
El-Bordj.  On  the  eminence,  and  bcliind  a  wall  that 
borders  the  road,  are  the  ruins  of  six  towers,  four  of  wluch 
are  disposed  in  a  straight  line  parallel  to  the  wall,  and  the 
two  others  at  about  eighty  yards  behind. 

Beyond  this  eminence,  tipon  which  we  halt  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  to  allow  the  entire  caravan  to  come  up.  there 
commences  a  descent  wUicli  is  again  a  fragment  of  an 
ancient  road.  At  fifty-six  minutes  past  eight  we  leave 
the  eminence  to  descend  into  the  hed  of  a  torrent,  ten 
yards  wide  at  the  utmost,  along  the  bottom  of  which  we 
proceed,  at  Brat  cast-noi-tli-east.  then  east.  After  a  defdo 
Ijetwecn  perpendicular  rocks,  which  we  have  gone  through 
by  three  minutes  \tnat  ten,  wc  enter  upon  another  flat 
eminence  dotted  with  mounds,  and  commanded  right  and 


RBMAIK8   OP  HOHAH   ffTHUCTDRBg. 


517 


left  1>y  largo  UillDcks,  strewed,  as  woH  as  tlie  eminence 
itself,  with  nunterous  ticapii  of  rubbish. 

By  Hoven  minutes  paat  ten  we  are  in  front  of  a  ruSnci! 
tower,  situated  o«  our  left.  By  a  quarter  past  ten,  pro- 
ceeding north-east,  we  cross  a  stony  eraineucc  cxtcndiug 
to  tiic  r^ht  up  to  tlic  foot  of  a  low  hill.  To  our  left  is  a 
hillock  covered  with  i-ubbiah,  after  which  rises  tlie  I)jel»el- 
Adjerrah,  a  high  mountain  witli  its  siiles  sprinkled  over 
with  thoao  volcanic  cjoctious  we  have  already  so  often 
mentioned.  By  sereiUecn  minutes  post  ten  we  descend 
into  another  ravine,  the  eutrauco  of  which  is  flanked  right 
and  left  by  two  round  towers  in  ruins,  and  we  keep  fol- 
lowing from  this  moment  the  bed  of  the  torrent. 

By  nineteen  minutes  pMt  ten  we  niareh  north-north- 
west ;  and  five  minutes  later,  almost  due  north.  We  have 
theu,  to  tlic  right,  high  stony  hillocks,  and  a  largo  round 
tower  in  ruins  interrupts  the  course  of  the  ravine.  By 
twenty-nine  miuutes  past  ten  our  course  is  again  east- 
ward, and  we  keep  moving  in  this  direction  until  tliirty- 
five  minutes  past  ten,  when  we  turn  to  the  left  with  the 
ravine,  wliicli  along  this  elbow  is  bounded  by  perpen- 
dicular rocks ;  and  then  a^in  we  almost  immediately 
resume  our  easterly  direction.  By  forty  minutes  past  ten 
WQ  arc  in  front  of  another  military  post,  consisting  of  a 
square  tower  in  ruins. 

Wo  now  leave  the  bed  of  the  torrent,  to  wind  along  its 
bank.  High,  rounded  hills  appear  to  our  right.  By 
forty-four  minutes  jiast  ten  we  fall  in  again  with  the 
traces  of  the  ancient  road  ;  they  are  commanded  by  tho 
mine  of  a  tower  on  tho  right.  We  then  cross  the  ravine 
wo  have  just  left,  and  which  inclines  eitstward  towards  a 
high  mountain,  the  base  of  which  is  only  three  huudre<l 


iu 


AKCIBKT   ROAD. 


yards  distant  from  our  route.  Once  over  ttic  mviDo.  iLo 
road  ascentiK  by  a  few  zig-zags  up  an  eminence,  the  crest 
of  which  wc  gain  by  forty-niuo  minutes  [lajst  ten.  Here 
arc  some  Arab  tombs,  formed  simply  of  piles  of  stones. 
We  coast  along  the  flank  of  a  deep  ouad  sixty  yards  wide, 
our  direction  being  tlicn  easterly. 

By  fifty-one  minutes  past  ten  we  find  fresh  vestiges  of 
tlie  ancient  road.  We  arc  then  marching  north-east,  and 
still  on  thu  left  bank  of  the  ouad,  into  which  another 
water-course  precipitates  itself  from  the  west.  A  range 
of  high  hills,  connected  with  the  mountain  I  haTe  just 
raentionod,  ends  here  in  high  rounded  cUffs.  The  oiiad 
has  become  the  bed  of  a  furmidable  torrent,  and  the  old 
road  appears  again.  Wc  then  descend  into  the  bod  of  tlie 
torreDt>  which  inclines  eastward,  and  Is  bounded  on  the 
left  by  perpendicular  rocks.  At  eleven  o'clock  we  halt 
under  the  rocks  to  take  our  morning's  meal. 

As  we  are  anxious  now  to  get  over  the  gi-ouud  as  fast 
as  poSHiblc,  wo  resume  our  inarch  by  twenty-five  minutes 
past  eleven.  Tlie  direction  of  the  torrent  we  are  fol- 
lowing is  at  first  south-east,  hut  it  soon  turns  due-oast 
again.  By  thirty -one  minutes  past  eleven  we  asnend  the 
left  bank,  where  wc  once  more  meet  the  ancient  road. 
The  other  bank  is  formed  of  high  ridges.  Four  minutes 
later  we  art-  down  again  into  tho  ouad,  where  we  cross 
the  o])oniug  of  another  ravine  running  into  it,  exactly 
from  north  to  south.  We  then  pass  along  a  small  groeu 
plain  commanded  by  high  ridges.  The  valley  along  which 
wo  are  marching  is  not  deep,  but  covered  with  stones.  To 
our  left,  at  a  distance  of  forty  yards  at  the  utmost,  com- 
mences a  series  of  hillocks  and  grey  mounds. 

By  fifty-two  minutes  past  eleven  the  hilts  open  to  tiic 


ANCIENT    ROAO. 


■119 


^ 


right,  forming  in  the  interval  a  moderate-sized  valley,  at 
tlic  furtlicr  end  of  wliicli  wc  doscrj"  a  Ktcep  liigh  cltlfoota- 
nianding  the  liills  on  either  side.  By  fifty-seven  niluutca 
past  eleven,  our  route,  which  had  been  until  then  due-east, 
inclines  by  almost  insensible  degrees  to  the  north.  Just 
then  wo  arc  pa&sing  to  the  leil  some  calcined  rocks,  which 
are  succeeded  almost  immediately  by  a  small  eminence 
covered  witli  large  stones.  To  the  right,  and  about  one 
hundred  yards  oEF,  is  a  range  of  higli  hills,  through  which 
we  are  to  iiaas  by  a  stony  ravine,  running  east-north-east. 
By  uine  minutes  post  twelve  the  remains  of  the  old  road 
appear  again,  paaaing  between  two  square  structures  com- 
pletely in  ruins. 

IJy  fifte<3H  minutes  past  twelve  we  are  at  the  lowest 
point  of  the  raviuo,  and  the  paved  road  still  continues  in 
broken  fragments.  We  march  then  north-cast,  in  a 
narrow  pass,  bounded  on  the  left  by  calcined  rocks,  and 
foil  of  stones.  By  twenty-one  niinutca  past  twelve  we 
ascend  a  hill  immediately  before  us,  with  abrupt  ravines 
an  eacli  ^ide.  The  old  mail,  the  traces  of  which  it  is 
Impostsihle  to  mistake,  accompanies  us  still. 

We  encounter  now  a  drove  of  camels,  attended  by 
Bedouins,  who  are  riding  very  comfortably,  whilst  their 
wiv«8  follow  on  foot.      The  new  comers  are   perfectly 

tffensive,  and  excliange  the  salnm-eUtkaum.  the  usual 
.ing  of  the  dotjcrt. 

By  twenty-eiglit  minutes  past  twelve  we  have  to  our 
right  tlie  ruin  of  a  Kquarc  tower,  close  to  which  is  a  deep 
well,  aliaped  like  a  funnel  pipe,  called  Bir-el-Hafayeh. 
We  reach  this  well  by  thirty-two  minutes  past  twelve. 
Two  Inmdretl  yards  further  on  is  another  well  of  the 
same  shape,  and  bcaiJng  the  same  name.     Before  us.  and 


820 


WKIX   OF    Bta-RL-nAPATRK. 


at  sometbiog-  less  thau  two  milcn  dist&Tux,  i>  a  range 
of  high  mountains,  called  ihc  Djebel-fH-Nouciiiii  (or 
Nou^bitl),  forming  the  upper  ridge  of  the  eastern  slioro 
of  the  Dead  Sea,  and  from  tlie  lurel  of  whicti  comnicncos 
the  vast  plain  of  Moab.  As  we  are  told  that  in  tins 
ele*'ated  region  we  shall  find  neither  springs  nor  wells,  we 
arc  ubligcd  to  Inke  in  a  supply  of  water  at  the  Hir-el- 
llafayeb.  with  which  our  ntoiikris  proceed  to  fill  our 
bairels  and  goat-skins.  This  operation,  on  account  of 
the  depth  of  the  well,  occupies  more  time  than  we 
could  desire. 

Wo  have  clambered  up  a  small  eminence  situated  just 
abuvu  the  two  wolls ;  and  thurc,  to  divert  our  paliouco 
while  waiting  for  the  start  of  the  caravan,  we  look  for 
insects  under  the  stones  lying  amongst  the  mallows  tJiat 
cover  the  ground.  At  ihirty-eight  minutes  ]>ast  one,  wo 
are  allowed  to  resume  our  march.  During  this  balu 
Ilamd-ui,  Abou-Daouk.  and  the  other  Scheikhs,  with  the 
exception  of  SameUAly,  have  left  us  to  feast  in  a  neigh- 
bouring encampment  of  the  Bcni-Hamniids.  When  we 
resume  our  march,  we  feel  rather  angry  at  titis  dcsertiou. 
net  being  acquainted  with  the  dispositionti  of  the  country 
we  are  in.  The  scene  of  last  niglit  is  still  fresh  in  our 
memories,  and  we  expect  every  moment  to  find  ourselves 
opposed  by  the  Bciii-Oqbii,  so  rudely  treated  and  expelled 
froto  our  encampment.  From  tliis  it  will  appear  that  we 
are  not  incorrectly  informed  as  to  the  Uhaoiiarnas,  to 
whom  we  were  in  fact  indebted  for  tJic  honour  of  the 
nocturnal  attack. 

But  we  cannot  stop  where  we  ai'c  ;  we  therefore  slowly 
ascend  tlie  side  of  a  steep  hill,  following  still  the  windings 
of  the  (Jd  road,  which  is  here  In  sttch  good  preservation 


VRSTIOES  OK   AN   ANCIRNT  TOWS. 


321 


I 
I 

w 


I 


Aat  it  may  be  used  for  travelling  without  any  iticon- 
venience.  At  forty-seveu  minutes  past  one  we  reach  a 
ruined  tower  and  a  level  eminence,  cOTnmande<l  to  our 
right  by  a  lofty  niouutaiu.  Our  direction  is  again  cast- 
vard.  After  having  crossed  this  platform,  we  commence 
another  ascent  at  fifty-five  miuutes  past  ouo.  We  now 
turn  our  backs  upon  the  direction  we  have  hitherto  been 
following,  and  at  two  precisely  reach  a  second  eminence, 
00  which  wc  still  find  tlie  traces  of  the  ancient  road  we 
have  been  following  all  day. 

Wc  now  inarch  due  south  through  heaps  of  rubbish, 
itrewing  the  ground  before  us,  as  also  the  side  of  tlie 
hiil  on  our  left.  Fifteen  yards  to  our  right  is  a  lai^o 
hillock  covered  with  ruins,  called  the  Kharbet-el-Hafayeh. 
Evidently,  a  town  has  once  existed  here.  I'jiasing  the 
source  of  a  ravine  which  widens  and  sinks  rapidly  towards 
the  west,  we  proceed  along  a  fine  green  level  covered 
ith  ruins.  At  first,  an  Arab  burytng-ground  marked 
•y  heaps  of  stones  ;  then,  along  the  base  of  the  perpen- 
diculai-  mountain  on  our  left,  many  buttresses  built  of 
large  unhewn  stones  ;  to  our  right,  the  open  area  is  not 
more  tliau  oiie  hundred  and  fifty  yards  wide,  and  eighty 
long  ;  to  our  left,  the  ruins  appear  everywhere. 

P^ally,  by  twenty-six  minutes  past  two,  we  halt  at 
the  base  of  a  chalky  hillock,  against  which  our  tents 
are  pitched.  A  strong  sharp  wind  la  blowing,  and  the 
fltrast  between  the  temperature  of  yesterday  and  to-day 

anything  but  pleasanL  Fortunately,  the  hillock,  at 
the  foot  of  which  we  have  establislied  ourselves,  affbrdH 
some  shelter  against  the  piercing  blasts  by  which  we  are 
chilled. 

Once  fixeii  in  our  new  haltiag-place,  we  begin  our  usual 

rot.  I.  T 


^ 


822 


EXCAMI'MEST.— STR.INGK  VISITORS. 


hunt  for  plants  and  tiisocts.  Wo  ai'c-,  however,  still  uneasy 
Kt  the  alisence  of  onr  Scheikhs  and  escort,  an  absence  we 
arc  at  a  loss  to  explain.  Our  inquietude  increases  pAin- 
fiUljr.  when  we  observe  several  Bedouins,  with  faces 
perfectly  unknown  to  us,  approach  and  station  dienisclTes 
without  ceremony  at  our  tent  door. 

Whence  come  these  polite  visitants  ?  And  is  the  ground 
we  are  encamped  upon  likely  to  favour  us  with  more  of 
the  same  quality  '!  Here  arc  two  very  natural  questions, 
to  which  we  would  gladly  obtain  satisfactory  answers. 
The  first  question  is  answered  almost  immediately. 
Loysol — who  has  clatfihered,  guu  in  hand,  to  the  top  of 
the  chalky  mound  forming  the  i]ack  of  our  encampment, 
with  the  hope  of  finding  the  imaginary  game  he  is  so 
constantly  dreaming  of — encounters  imexpectedly  more 
game  than  ho  expected.  He  has  discovered,  a  few 
hundred  yards  southward  of  us.  in  a  hollow  of  the  Ouad* 
cbni-Hammid.  a  considerable  nest  of  small  black  tents, 
occupied  by  the  population  of  which  we  have  already 
seen  some  samples.  How  are  we  to  deal  with  them  t 
Were  we  to  anatliematise  our  false  Scheikhs  who  have 
deserted  us.  we  should  gain  no  end.  Besides,  Schcikh 
Samet-Aly  looks  so  confident,  that  evidently  he  has 
not  the  slightest  fear  of  a  collision  with  our  ncighlKiurs. 
Such  being  the  case,  we  follow  his  example.  ap[>ear 
equally  unconcerned,  and  acknowledge  cheerfully  the 
vifflt  with  which  these  gentlemen  have  been  pleased  to 
favour  us. 

Better  still  I  We  begin  trading  with  them,  and 
purchase  sheep  for  our  dinner,  which  at  once  establishes 
the  most  cordial  underst-inding.  We  now  resume  our 
business  as  naturalists  and  antiquaries,  and  discover,  in 


I 

i 


FBIBNDLT  BRDOriSS. 


ii$ 


all  directions  round  our  teiit,  remains  of  levelled  walls 
constructed  from  blocks  of  lava. 

Aa  niglit  approaches,  the  stranger  Bedouins,  observing 
nie  and  my  comjianions  arranging  our  plants  and  insects, 
put  many  questions  to  us  with  eager  curiosity,  touching 
these  strange  operations.  I  answer  them  rather  audaciously 
that  I  am  a  hakim  (a  physician)  in  quest  of  new  remedies, 
and  that  I  am  studying  all  tho  marvels  of  the  creations  of 
Allah,  I  thus  astound  their  ears  with  the  exact  title  of 
an  Arabian  manuscript  which  1  had  formerly  in  my 
po6sessioQ  (Adjai'li-Makldoukat-Atlah),  and  produce  the 
expected  effect.  We  are  novr  looked  upon  as  learned 
sages,  and  we  may  ipake  our  minds  quite  easy  ;  but  let 
us  beware  of  cabinet  councils  which  arc  sure  to  follow. 

The  niins  amongst  which  we  are  encamped  had  been 
previously  pointed  out  to  me  under  the  name  of  Kluirbet- 
el'Hafajeh  ;  but  I  must  observe  that  our  new  acquaint^ 
ancos  call  them  indifferently  by  this  appellation  or  by  that 
of  Khai'bet-Adjorrali,  or  el-Djerrah,  which  we  have  also 
found  assigned  to  the  other  niins  encountered  by  us 
throughout  the  day.  Beyond  all  doubt  we  are  on  the 
flank  of  the  Djcbcl-Adjcrrah  ;  as  all  the  Tiedouins  are 
agreed  on  that  point.  Is  it  possible  to  ascertain  what 
andcut  locality  is  concealed  under  this  name  of  Adjerrah  ? 
I  know  not  that  I  have  succeeded  ;  but  yet  I  venture  to 
state  the  hypothesis  sn^ested  to  me  by  a  peculiar 
resemblance  as  to  names. 

We  read  in  Josephus,'^  that  amongst  tlie  twelve  towns 
taken  from  the  Arabs  by  Alexander  Janmens,  father  of 
Hyrcanus,  were  Agalla,  Medeba.  and  Horonaim.  Now 
Jtfedeba  and    Horonaimf    were   positively  towns  of  the 


Ant  JnA  wt.  I—*. 


t  luah.  XT.  t—i ;  Jirmniah.  zKili.  S,  S.  A. 

r3 


824 


ADJEUHAW^ — THB   BOLAIM  OF  SCRlPTUKB. 


Moaititcs,  according  to  the  testimany  of  Isaiah  and 
Jeremiah  ;  Axilla  would  tlicn,  or  ratliur  must  then,  liavc 
been  also  a  Moaljitic  etaliou.  But  between  Agalla  and 
AdjcrraJ)  the  difference  is  so  small,  that  I  think  it  very 
allowable  to  identify  the  ruins  of  the  Agalla  of  Joaoplius 
with  the  Adjcrrah  of  tho  Arabs  of  the  preacut  day.  Lei 
lis  observe  besides  that  the  prophet  Isaiah,  when  speaking 
of  the  ruin  of  Moab,*  says  :  "  Kur  the  cry  its  gone  round 
about  the  borders  of  Moab  :  the  howling  thereof  unto 
Eglaim,"  &c.  We  must  therefore  consider  that  Kglaim 
was  towards  the  frontiers  of  Moab.  Reland  has  already 
expressed  tlio  opinion  that  tliis  Kglaim  (Adjchm)  must 
liavo  bocu  the  Agalla  of  Josephus,  and  I  have  no  hesitation 
in  adopting  his  conclusion.  It  is  true  that  Euscbins  places 
Agalliiii  (AyoUcfpi),  which  is  evidently  tlic  same  place, 
to  the  southward,  and  at  a  distance  of  eight  Roman  miles, 
from  Areopolis  (llabbath-Moab)  ;  and  this  double  indica- 
tion applies  to  the  niins  of  Adjerrah  only  as  regards  the 
distance ;  for  the  ruins  of  AdjorraJi,  whether  you  take 
them  at  the  bottom  or  at  ttie  top  of  the  Ouad-Adjcrrah 
are  nearly  due  west  of  Areopolis.  But  I  nevertheless 
persist  in  looking  for  the  Eglaim  of  Scripture  and  the 
AyoAAa  of  Josephus,  in  the  Adjcrrah  of  the  Arabs,  because 
the  AyoKXtCiJ.  of  fiuHubius,  placed  by  him  soutliward  of 
Areopolis.  could  not  have  been  on  the  frontier  of  the 
Moabitic  country,  as  it  ought  to  be  according  to  the  text 
of  Isaiak 

Night  has  almost  closed  in,  when  Saraet-Aly  announces 
the  ajiproach  of  Hunidan,  whom  he  descries  through  the 
darkness  from  a  prodigious  distance.  The  two  senses  of 
hearing  and  seeing  are  sharpened  amongst  Bedouins,  in  a 


•  foiib.  ir.  s. 


THE  TltlBB   OF   BBNI-lIAMMinS. 


3S5 


^ 


manner  passing  tho  boliuf  ul"  Euroixjaiis,  wlio  generally 
require  glasses  to  diatingiiish  objects  even  within  a  few 
paces. 

Haoulan  is  accompanied,  on  his  retuni,  by  all  uur  little 
army,  whose  desertion  had  cansod  ns  so  much  uneasiness. 
The  explanation  of  the  riJdlo  is  siieodiiy  given  by  the 
Schoikli  of  the  Thtiameras.  The  BcnUHmnmids,  oti  wlioso 
territory  we  are  now  arrived,  a  few  years  since  were  saved 
from  total  ruin  by  the  gonerosity  of  Hamdan  and  Ids  tribe. 
Thoy  are,  in  consequence,  devoted  to  him  body  and  soul ; 
and  we  are  as  safe  with  them  as  if  we  were  in  the  territory 
of  our  own  faithfiil  Schcikh.  The  benefactors  hud  gone  to 
feast  with  those  they  liad  delivered,  in  the  encampments 
of  the  Beni-Hanimids  ;  and  thus  the  allurement  of  an 
accidental  dinner  had  cAU8(>d  the  temporary  desertion  of 
our  entire  escort.  The  Arabs  of  the  neighbouring  village 
bestow  on  Hamdan  a  thousand  caresses;  they  also  are 
Beni-ilammids,  and  we  may  rest  satisfied  that  at  present 
we  are  quite  free  from  danger  or  alarm. 

The  wind  rises  and  becomes  still  sharper.  Wv  hasten 
to  finish  our  iliiy's  work,  and  seek  shelter  under  our 
Turkish  bhuikcts,  from  the  bitter  cold  that  chilU  us  to  the 
very  bones.  Everything  m  still  and  quiet  ai'ound  us,  and 
we  enjoy  om-  sleep  in  perfect  peace. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Kuiiu  of  Khftrbet-Sarfah  —  Ancieat  Hoiibitic  highira;  —  Singulkr  temple  — 
Ruioi  of  an  audeDt  town  —  Walla  of  Ikv&  —  Hound  of  the  iUts,  and 
Uoabitlo  bw-reliaf — Local  legend* — Buiiu  of  SchibiJi  or  Sibon — BeDoontrs 
with  WBoderlDg  Bedouma — The  robben  baulked — Eclipse  of  the  moon — A 
cold  night— The  march  reaumed — Avenue  of  atonea — ituina  of  a  Ui^  dtj — 
Description  of  a  temple  —  Remarkable  ruins  at  Beitel-Kerm — A  ptaeading 
visitant— Contjoued  ruins— Halt  at  EI-Rabba— Fragm»ot  of  Moahitic  eeulpturo 
— Long  aTBDues  of  stones — The  Soheikh  Selameh  and  bis  eacort — Approach 
to  Karak — Faaaage  of  a  dangerous  lavine — Karak,  the  capital  of  Moab. 

Jannan/  Yllk. 

Bt  a  few  miDutes  past  eight  we  are  on  horseback,  our 
teats  packed  up,  our  mules  loaded,  and  we  are  impatient 
to  resume  our  march.  Though  the  sun  ia  clear  and 
dazzling,  a  chilling  wind  blows  with  great  violence,  and, 
as  it  increases  every  moment,  we  feel  benumbed  whilst 
bitting  inactive  on  our  chargers.  At  last,  by  a  quarter- 
past  eight,  we  leave  the  spot  where  we  have  passed  the 
night. 

This  morning,  before  starting,  I  took  another  ramble 
towards  the  summit  of  the  chalky  hillock  against  which 
our  camp  was  pitched ;  and,  lying  against  the  northern 
flank  of  this  eminence,  1  recognised  the  foundations  of  a 
small  square  structure,  built  with  blocks  of  lava.  Close 
to  it  lies  the  broken  fragment  of  a  column,  also  of  lava,  but 
of  small  dimensions. 

To-day  we  expect  to  cross  the  last  range  of  hills  still 
dividing  us  from  the  high  level  of  the  land  of  Moab,  and 


RUINS  UF    KlfARBET-SAKPAU. 


327 


hope  to  encauip  at  Schihan.  At  starting  wo  marcti  due 
soutJ) ;  to  our  left,  not  more  than  ten  yards  distant,  com- 
mences the  steep  wc  have  to  climb  ;  one  hundred  and  fifty 
yards  to  our  riglit,  begin  the  declivities  of  the  Ouad-obni- 
Hamniid,  on  w]]ich  wc  discover,  quite  clone  to  us,  the 
encampment  of  Bcdouiua,  some  of  whoso  inhabitantji  paid 
ua  yesterday  the  honour  of  a  visit. 

The  mountain  wo  tiave  to  climb  is  the  Djebel-en- 
Noudhiu.  At  two  Uuudred  yards  from  our  starting  [mint 
Ave  arc  on  its  flank,  shaping  our  course  due  east.  This  is 
literally  an  escalade  ;  the  road,  if  such  it  can  bo  called,  is 
iy  fit  for  goats,  and  strewed  at  every  step  with  blocks 

lava,  roughly  squared,  remains  of  ancient  stnictnres 
erected  on  the  upper  platform.  Just  as  we  reach  this 
eminence  by  half-past  eight,  wc  pass  over  a  ruined  wall, 
built  of  blocks  similar  to  those  we  find  in  such  abimdance 
on  the  ascent.  They  have  evidently  fallen  off  from  the 
wall  and  rolled  down  on  tho  path.  Beyond  the  wall  our 
course  at  first  lies  north-north-cast ;  tlie  declivity  of  tJi6 
valley  we  have  just  passed  is  then  to  our  loft,  and  the 
crest  of  this  encampment  is  crowned  by  the  foundations  of 
three  towers,  built  also  with  blocks  of  lava.  Before  us 
appears  a  mass  of  scattered  ruins,  covering  the  remainder 
of  the  ascents  The  liodouins  call  them  Kharbet-Sarfah  ; 
bat,  as  I  have  said  already,  the  mountain  is  named  Djebel- 
en-No«^hin. 

By  forty-two  minutes  past  fight,  after  some  windings 
amongst  the  ruins,  we  reach  the  high  level  of  the  land  of 
Mo«b.  We  are  marching  due  eajit,  in  a  Hue  parallel  to 
the  direction  of  Ouad-ebni-llammid.  which  is  scarcely  one 
hundred  and  fifty  yards  distant  to  our  riKlit.  The  upper 
ledge  of  this  ouad  is  literally  covered  throughout  with 


328 


ANCt£.\T   MOABITIC   ROAL>. 


ruined  walls,  undoubtedly  the  reniaiiis  of  a  very  wimder- 
able  town.  The  Hombre  hue  of  thetie  constructions  U  most 
striking,  ttte  only  matoriaU  being  dark  blocks  of  lava, 
roughly  squared,  and  bearing  a  marked  resemblance  to 
Cyclopean  cdifioes. 

From  time  to  time  our  ivnd  passes  over  fallen  walls  ; 
but  wliat  appears  to  u»  most  autonishiiig  is  a  long  alley, 
formed  of  two  lines  of  blocks  of  lava,  planted  in  the 
earth,  at  a  distance  of  about  a  yard  from  each  other, 
reminding  us  of  the  Celtic  avenues  of  Carnac.  Here 
the  width  of  the  avenue  does  not  exceed  four  yards. 
Consequently  tliis  alley  marks  the  track  of  an  ancient 
road ;  and,  accordingly,  our  present  {Nith  follows  the 
same  direction.  Where  their  fathers  travelled,  tJie 
Bedouins  travel  also,  and  will  continue  so  to  do  for  over. 
We  are  certainly  moving  on  a  road  conRtmcted  by  the 
ancient  Moabitcs. 

By  forty-seven  minutes  past  eight  we  have  entered 
on  the  avenue ;  by  fitly-onu  minutes  past  eight,  a  long 
wall  intercepts  perpendicularly  the  left-hand  line.  A  hun- 
dred yards  further  on,  a  very  largo  enclosure,  narrowing 
at  one  of  its  extremities,  restH  aga,inst  the  same  side  of  the 
road  ;  tlien  follows  a  long  wall  ending  in  a  mass  of  ruins, 
indicating  the  former  existence  of  a  structure  of  some 
kind.  At  the  point  where  we  have  arrived  by  fifly-fivc 
minutes  past  eight,  we  observe  to  our  left  the  opening 
of  a  large  deep  valley,  called  the  Ouad-es-Cheqiq  (the 
Arabs  here  pronounce  this  name  Es-Cheguig).  The 
crest  of  the  Ouad-ebni-IIammid  is  protected  by  a  wait 
approaching  to  within  twenty  yards  of  the  path  we  are 
following. 

Henceforward  I  give  up  particularising  all  the  ruined 


SIVR   UDILDIKO. 


■AM 


valls  we  constantly  encounter  in  our  journoy ;  the 
repetition  woulti  bo  oniilti»<}i.  For  the  future  I  shall 
merely  name  collected  heaps,  describing  more  minutely 
those  which  appear  the  most  remarkable. 

By  nine  o'clock  we  notice,  about  forty  yards  to  our 
left,  a  considerable  ruin.  Fifteen  yards  to  our  right 
passes  tlio  wall  crowning  the  ledge  of  the  Ouad-ebni- 
Hammid,  and  we  now  entur  upon  cultivated  grounds. 
On  our  right  is  a  well  called  Bir-Sarfah,  and  a  little 
further  on  to  the  left  a  scfuare  cisteni,  excavated  in  the 
rock.  Lastly,  a  hundred  paces  further  on,  wc  halt 
before  a  curious  building,  the  structure  of  which  we 
ore  an.Yiotis  to  examine.  This  building  is  surrounded 
by  walla  about  four  feet  and  a  half  thick.  It  is  easy 
to  discover  that,  at  a  comparatively  recent  jieriod, 
additions  have  beoit  made  to  a  much  older  edifice, 
strongly  contrasting  in  cliaiacter  with  the  original 
portions. 

Thia  building  is  open  to  the  north,  through  a  square 
door,  the  uprights,  lintel,  aud  sill  of  which  are  made  of 
blocks  of  lava.  You  enter  into  what  was  formerly  a 
hatl,  fifteen  yards  long,  by  twelve  in  widtli.  ThiH  hall 
is  filled  with  mined  fragments.  To  the  left,  and  seveD 
yards  from  the  outward  face,  is  a  partition  wall,  forming 
the  entrance  to  a  nave  eighteen  yiwds  long,  and  present- 
ing, at  regular  intervals  of  three  yards,  pointcil  arches, 
having  only  their  mouldings  left.  The  riglit-haiid  wall 
of  this  nave  rests  upon  an  elbow  of  the  original  enclnsure, 
'which,  at  (he  same  time  it  prolongs,  jutting  out  ten  yards 
in  front  of  tlie  soutlioni  face.  And  lastly,  to  the  Icftof  tlie 
principal  entrance,  a  smiUI  building,  of  four  sijuare  yania 
ill  oxteot,  eocuQibered  with  stones,  rests  upon  the  front 


8S0 


I'lIUUABLY    A    HUABITIC   TKHfLK. 


wall.  Tlie  entrance  to.  tliis,  adjacctil  te  UiaC  of  the 
principal  edifire,  U  also  through  a  pointed  arch. 

Only  a  few  paces  iii  frout  of  this  siugular  comtruccion 
ore  three  or  four  Arab  tombe,  of  a  Tery  peculiar  style. 
Instead  of  the  usual  simple  heap  of  stODes  coreriDg  the 
grare,  we  observe  here  oblong  inouuds,  which  soem  to 
have  been  lately  thrown  up,  and  ujjou  wliicli  are  laid 
implements  of  husbandry,  probably  belonging  to  the 
departed.  Oa  each  side  of  these  funereal  mounds, 
stakes  are  lixed,  connected  one  with  the  other  by  a  string. 
To  the  strings  were  attaclied  numerous  tufts  of  human 
bair,  both  male  and  female.  These  symbols  of  regret 
deposited  upon  the  tombs,  excited  within  me  a  deep 
emotion ;  are  they  Mahommcdans  who  have  thus  com- 
memoratcd  their  departed  fr-iends  t  I  doubt  it  very 
mucJi.  There  are  CliHstian  Arabs  in  this  country,  and 
perhaps  to  them  wc  must  attribute  tliis  touching  custom 
of  offering  to  the  dead  the  tokens  of  remembrance  which 
European  civilisation  confines  to  the  living. 

What  ha-s  this  building  bocn,  which  1  Itave  just 
described  t  Most  probably  a  sacred  eoclosure.  Upon 
the  site  of  some  Moubitie  temple,  a  Roman  place  of 
worship  may  have  risen  from  the  same  foundations ; 
subsequently,  a  Christian  chui'ch,  the  nave  oniajiiented 
with  five  Gotluc  arches  ;  and  later  still,  a  small  Mussul- 
man oualy,  resting  against  the  exterior  wall.  These 
speculations  may  bo  erroneous,  but  tbey  are  feasible  and 
connected.  I  examined  this  strange  ruin  carefully,  and 
sketched  an  accurate  plan. 

By  niiictceu  minutes  past  nine  we  leave  this  place 
and  resume  oiu"  march,  proceeding  south-oast.  We  pass 
a  wall  built  as  usual  with   blocks  of  lava,  stretching 


m^i 


BWINS  OF   AS   4KCIBST  TOWX. 


purptiridicuUi-ty  across  our  road,  aud  edgiug  ou  our  right 
tbe  brink  of  the  ouad.  Above  five  buudred  yards  from 
the  ruin  I  hare  ju^t  described,  a  circular  elevation,  of  no 
great  height,  presents  itself  before  ue.  It  seems  artificial, 
and  entirely  corcrtd  with  the  remains  of  liaif-buried 
hoH»cs.  A  town  has  furmerly  stood  here.  These  ruina 
are  called,  by  the  Arabs,  Kharbet-Sarfah. 

By  thirty-two  minutes  past  nine  we  leave  the  mound 
of  Sarfah.  At  the  spot  where  we  clear  the  ruins,  a  wall, 
stUl  in  tolerable  preservation,  nnd  built  with  blocks  uf 
lava,  turns  inwards  to  our  left,  most  likely  to  connect  the 
other  wall  we  liavo  lately  passed,  forming  the  crown  work 
of  the  upper  level  of  the  Ouad-ebni-Hammid.  Here  stood, 
in  all  probability,  the  gate  of  the  ancient  city,  for  the 
track  we  arc  following  passes  between  two  uninterrupted 
lines  of  lava  blocks,  forming  one  of  those  strange  avenues 
which  bounded  inont  unqueHtioiiably  the  high  roads 
leading  through  the  plains  of  Moab.  This  avenue,  fi-om 
;he  starting  point  at  Kharbet-Sarfah,  is  in  a  north-easterly 
direction,  and  we  follow  it  until  forty-one  minutes  pa>it 
uine,  a  distance  of  one  thousand  yards,  and  all  along 
through  cultivated  fields. 

By  thirty-five  minutes  past  nine  we  have  passed,  to 
onr  left,  and  about  four  hundred  yards  distant  from  the 
avenue  of  stones  along  which  wo  are  marching,  a  rising 
ground,  some  five  or  «x  yards  high  above  the  level  of 
the  plain,  and  covered  with  ruins.  The  Arabs  call  this 
Redjoni-el-3Iahfo«r  (the  hollowed  mound).  I  was  unable 
to  examine  it,  as  the  strange  features  of  our  road  absorb 
my  whole  attention. 

At  forty-one  minutes  paat  nine  the  ground  rises  in- 
sensibly, and  we  leave  the  avenue  of  stones  to  enter  again 


332 


IKCBSSANT   UUIH8. — HOUHD  OF  TUB   BATHS. 


amongst  the  ruius.  Tlicse  cotLsisC  now  of  foundatJous 
of  walla  of  great  length,  crossing  each  other  in  every 
direction,  but  utme  forming  the  exact  continuation  of  the 
avenue  of  stones.  They  are  called  Kharbet-Emiiah,  are 
nearly  one  thousand  yards  in  extent,  and  ton  o'clock  has 
arrived  before  we  clear  them.  Our  route,  since  we  have  left. 
Sarfah,  has  been  constantly  in  a  north-easterly  direction. 
The  Ouad-cbni-Hanimid  is  two  miles  and  a  quarter  to 
our  light. 

The  mins  now  commence  again,  and  are  marked  by 
the  peculiar  name  of  Kodjom-el-Hamntali,  (tlic  mound  of 
the  baths,  or  of  the  warm  spring  ?)  On  om-  right,  more 
rtiins  of  immense  extent,  and  to  our  left,  about  one 
hundred  aud  fifty  yards  distant,  anotlier  mass  called 
Reiljom-en-Uousah  (I  am  not  quite  sure  of  tliis  last 
name).  Other  rumaiii»  uf  avonues  of  stones  appear  again, 
and  our  course  is  now  towards  a  ra^-ine,  sheltered  by  a 
plateau  two  hundred  yards  lu  leu^h,  crowned  by  stujwn- 
dous  niiuB,  bearing  once  more  the  name  of  Kliarbet- 
Eniniab.  We  notice  here  portions  of  walls  built  of  fine 
hewn  stone,  and  other  buildings  (most  likely  Roman), 
lining  the  platform  of  Emn'iah  above  the  ravine. 

Tiie  direction  of  the  ravine  is,  generally  speaking,  fixim 
south  to  north.  The  dejith  seldom  exceeds  ten  yards  at 
the  utmost,  but  that  suffices  to  screen  us  Q-om  tlie 
wind,  which  has  not  ceased  blowing  with  great  fury  since 
yesterday,  and  adds  materially  to  our  fatigue.  We  break- 
fast on  this  spot ;  and  by  exactly  eleven  o'clock,  after 
a  lialt  of  thrce^uartcrs  of  an  hour,  resume  our  march. 
Wc  now  pass  continued  ruins  of  immense  extent,  covering 
the  eminence  that  forms  the  right  bank  of  the  ouad  ill 
which   wc  have  , breakfasted,    and    loave    thom   by   nine 


I 


VXUS   OF    hJiVX. 


333 


^ 


^ 


minutes  past  eleven.  We  have  resumed  our  north-east 
course,  and  just  as  we  clear  tlie  ruins  of  Emraah,  we 
find  ourselves  again  in  an  avenue  of  stones,  leading 
tlirough  an  open  cultivated  country.  This  line  of  road 
flanks  at  no  great  distance  a  largo  and  deep  valley,  on 
tJie  side  of  which  the  niins  cotomence  again.  From  this 
point  the  traces  of  walls,  built  with  irregular  blocks  of 
lava,  are  innumerable,  and  the  road  by  which  we  are 
inarching  is  generally  bounded  by  these  blocks  planted  in 
the  ground,  foiming  two  parallel  Uncs,  intercepted  on  tlie 
right  by  the  ruined  walls  I  have  just  mentioned.  On  the 
left  the  traces  of  walla  appear  more  rarely,  owing  to  the 
contracted  width  of  the  passage.'  The  avenue  we  are 
following  is  now  divided  from  the  ouad  by  only  a  few 
yards.  The  ouad  itself  seems  to  be  about  one  hundred 
and  fifty  yards  wide  ;  its  direction  is  north-easterly,  and 
it  is  called  the  Ouad-ech-Cheqi(]  (the  cleft  valley). 

By  half-past  eleven  wc  march  due  north  ;  and  five 
minutes  later  reach  a  well,  sunk  in  the  middle  of  long 
files  of  walls,  placed  on  both  sides  of  our  road  :  because 
the  upper  level  of  the  Ouad-ech-Cheqiq  being  then  about 
fifty  yards  distant  from  this  road,  the  intervening  ground 
on  our  left  has  alforded  space  enough  for  these  constnic- 
tioaa.  From  this  spot  we  turn  due  west,  and  arrive,  by 
forty  minutes  pa.st  eleven,  at  the  foot  of  a  circular  mound, 
formed  of  squared  blocks  of  lava,  partly  covered  ovei-  with 
earth,  whicli  seem  to  constitute  the  base  of  a  suiall  round 
tower.  This  niin  is  called  the  Kedjom-el-Aabed  (the 
mound  of  the  slave).  When  I  reach  it,  1  find  our 
Bedouins  sitting  near  a  large  block  of  lava,  which  they 
point  out  to  me,  saymg,  *'  Look,  thei-e  is  a  stone  Uke  those 
Ihou  art  in  quest  of ! " 


884  MOABITIC   BA8-RBI.ICP. 

I  look,  and  fiiiit  iiiysotf  in  front  of  a  magnificeDt  Sliltm, 
in  black  compact  lava,  representing  a  baa-relief,    of  an 


nocRl  or  A  vaurnL 


antiquity  the  date  of  vhich  I  sha])  not  presume  to 
dotprmine,  even  approximately.  It  consists  of  a  figxire 
as  largo  m  life,  with  the  whole  of  the  lower  part  wanting 
from  the  knees,  but  wbi4;h.  iiolwilhstanding  this  mutila- 
tion, exhibita  a  monument  of  art  of  immense  value.  To 
a  certainty,  we  liare  before  ub  a  Moabitic  sculpture.  A 
f)erflonage,  wearing  a  helmet  of  AKsyrian  shape,  holcta 
with  both  hands  a  javelin  with  a  lat^  iron  bead,  with 
which  be  8eoms  to  strike  a  man  supposed  to  be  in  suppli- 
cation at  bis  knees.     The  upper  part  of  the  body  is  naked- 


LOCAL    LBOEND& 


3S5 


but  from  the  *  liips  down  to  the  knees  lie  is  clothed  iu 
a  short  close  tunic,  exactiv  similar  to  that  worn  by  the 
Egyptians,  Over  the  right  shoulder  of  this  pprsonago, 
and  behind  his  (jack,  is  hung  a  bended  bow,  without  any 
apparent  string.  Behind  the  warrior  is  the  figure  of  a 
UoD.  of  email  dimensions,  which  appears  to  be  merely 
the  ornamented  leg  of  a  throne,  judging  by  its  diminu- 
tive nize.  The  relievo  of  this  figure  is  well  defined,  the 
expression  of  the  face  strongly  marked,  and  characterised 
with  a  savage  energy. 

A  glance  suffices  io  convince  me  that  this  is  a  hybrid 
monument,  in  which  the  Egyptian  and  the  Assyrian  styles 
are  intermingled.  My  joy  at  the  discovery  of  this 
treasure  may  readily  be  conceived.  Tliis  joy  1  am  silly 
enough  to  give  way  to.  under  the  eyes  of  the  surrounding 
Bedouins  ;  I  express  my  wish  to  acquire  possession  of  this 
piece  of  sculpture,  for  the  removal  of  which  1  still  more 
unguardedly  offer  twelve  hundred  jiiastres.  I  perceive  too 
late  that,  notwithstanding  my  intentional  rcsen-e,  which 
1  had  so  delibcnitely  resolved  to  maintain,  1  liave  com- 
pletely defeated  myself,  and  sliall  most  certainly  be  com- 
pelled to  leave  behind  me  this  invaluable  monnment  of 
anti(|uitj. 

No  sooner  have  I  named  the  twelve  hundred  piastres, 
than  the  old  tales  of  treasure-diggings  begin  to  be  whis- 
pered around  me.  The  Beui-Uammids,  who  inhabit  this 
country,  are  tlie  first  to  bring  forward  stories  as  worthy 
of  belief  as  the  following  : — Every  y<»ir  on  the  very  same 
day  of  tjio  year,  some  one  of  the  tribe  finds  a  gold  pioco 
(a  dynar)  at  tlie  Kedjom-el-Aabed,  an<I  precisely  imder 
the  stone  that  I  had  beun  admiring  like  a  child,  when 
I  ought  to  have  openly  undervalued  it.     It  follows,  theu. 


886 


KUINS   OF   fSCHIHAX. 


tliat  tJic  interior  of  this  block  is  crammed'with  gold,  and 
that  if  I  hare  a  longing  dcsiix-  to  carry  it  off.  it  is 
because  I  kaow  its  real  ratue,  and  the  ricli  treasure  it 
contains.  I  now,  therefore,  alfect  indifference,  but  too 
late :  I  bare  destroyed  uiy  hopca,  and  nipped  my  own 
project  in  the  bud. 

A  hundred  paces  fttrtiier  on,  I  order  our  tents  to  be 
pitched  in  the  niidet  of  stupendous  ruins,  beside  a  large 
cave,  supported  by  a  pillar,  which  will  servo  as  a  stable 
for  our  baggage  animals,  and  a^  au  apartment  ibr  our 
moukm. 

The  vast  remains,  amongst  which  we  arc  encamped  for 
the  day,  are  iiamt-d  by  the  Arabs  of  this  district,  Kharbot- 
Kouqaiia  (llie  rod  ruias).  Without  any  possible  doubt,  we 
are  here  on  the  site  of  a  Moabitic  town  of  tbc  highest 
antiquity.  The  ground  is  strewed  with  fragments  of 
coarse-colom-ed  pottery,  exactly  resembling  Uie  primitire 
samples  of  earthenware  found  at  Santorin  in  places  buried 
under  Tolcauic  beds,  of  an  unknown  period.  1  pick  up  at 
every  step  largo  cubes  of  original  mosaic,  white,  black, 
and  red.  We  shall  shortly  inquire  what  town  this  may 
have  been,  on  whose  ruins  we  arc  treading  at  this 
moment. 

Schihan  lies  directly  eastward  in  front  of  us ;  a  ruin 
crowning  an  isolated  hillock,  and  commanding  all  tltc 
extensive  pliun  of  Moab.  Importajit  discoveries  may, 
perhaps,  await  us  in  sucl^  a  place ;  wo  have  still  several 
hours  daylight,  which  wo  can  employ  in  this  excursion. 
Such  being  the  case,  we  determine  to  proceed  at  once  to 
Schihan.  We  leave  to  our  people  the  care  of  pitching 
our  tenia,  arranging  our  luggage  in  order,  and  preparing 
our  kitchen  apparatus ;   and  we  are  off  agaio  by  nineteen 


B1IIN8   OP   SCniHAN. 


m 


I 


minutes  past'  twelve,  without  any  escof't  bcjood  two 
Arabs  of  the  Bciii-Hammids,  who  follow  us  on  foot. 

We  soon  pass  on  our  right  a  cistern  ;  then,  after  having 
traversed  cultivated  fields,  entirely  cleared  from  ruhhish, 
we  come  to  other  ruins  covering  both  sides  of  a  naiTow 
valley,  whii'-h  we  cross  at  its  neck,  where  it  is  closed  by 
four  or  five  huge  cyclopcan  wails,  placed  alternately  so  as 
to  support  the  eai-tli.  whilst  lea\-ing  a  passage  for  the  rain- 
waters to  run  down  the  bottom  of  the  ravine.  Tliis  ouad, 
■which  is  merely  a  continuation  of  the  one  comni-inded 
right  and  left  by  the  ruiiis  amidst  which  we  bad  pitched 
our  camp,  is  called  the  Ouad-Emdeb^a. 

Between  our  encampment  luid  the  Ouad-P^mdeb^,  we 
have  agam  followed  an  avenue  of  stones.     Beyond  the 

:ouad,  wc  cross  another  small  cultivated  plain,  commanded 
by  a  very  low  mound,  on  the  top  of  which  is  a  cistern 
surrounded  by  walls  built  with  blocks  of  lava.     To  our 
rig}it,  the  plain  presents  traces  of  ancient  walls,  extending 
oiit  of  sight.     We  then  proceed  north-east,  and  by  thirty- 
^iive  miuutos  past  twelve  wc  have  cleared  tho  ruins. 
^P      By  forty-six  minutes  past  twelve  we  fall  in  again  with 
otber  long  piles  of  walls,  which  wo  cUmb  over.     At  forty- 
eight  minutes  past  twelve    the    plain    begins  to  incline 
H  upwards.     Three  minutes  later,  the  ground  on  our  left 
^^  sJiows  many  mins,  whilst  to  our  right  thoy  are  thinly 
scattered.     At   forty-five  luinutea  j)ast   twelve   wo    turn 
eastward,  and  arrive  at  the  base  of  a  circular  coustrucUon, 
I      probably  a  tower,  beyond  which  appear  once  more  walls  in 
I       considerable  extent.     Emerging  again  fi-om  tkese,  by  fifty- 
seven  minutes  past  twelve  we  ascend  the  gentle  acclivity 
,of  the  eminence  of  Schihan.     By  two  minutes  past  one 
o  reach  a  cistern  hollowed  in  the  rock  and  surrounded 


sss 


KtllNS  or  SOHIUAS. 


by  a  wall  And,  taatly,  by  ax  minatcs  post  one  vn 
alight  at  tlio  c-iitraticc  of  the  siagular  niim  of  Scliihan. 

During  our  progress  &  Inpving  has  been  shot  by 
Rothschild.  W©  hand  oror  the  gamo  to  our  Bem- 
Ilaniniids,  who  immediately  pluck  and  roast  it  as  well 
as  they  cau,  by  lighting  a  firo  with  some  dry  brambles. 
We  entrust  thorn  with  the  cliargo  of  our  horses,  and  begin 
at  oiico  to  explore  the  ruius.  What  stood  here  formerly  t 
—a  palace,  a  temple,  or  a  fortress  ^— I  shall  not  presume 
to  decide ;  but  merely  to  (uniish  a  description  of  what 
still  rcmmtis  of  this  ancient  stnicturc.  A  square  building 
fifty  yards  in  length  on  every  Bide,  with  an  entrance  on 
tlic  western  face.  In  this  face  there  is  a  large  breach, 
and  in  front  of  the  broach  a  circular  mound,  concealing^ 
perhaps,  the  base  of  a  tower  ten  yards  in  diameter  ;  an 
a\'enue  of  stones  terminates  at  this  mouud,  which  is 
removed  twenty-eight  yards  from  the  south-western  angle 
of  the  enclosure,  and  eigliteon  from  the  nortb-westem 
angle.  On  the  left  front,  that  looks  towards  the  north,  a 
stjuare  tower  projects,  measuring  ten  yards  on  each  ade^ 
thft  inner  angles  of  which  are  twenty  yards  distant 
from  the  north-eastern  and  north-western  angles  of  the 
enclosure.  The  eastern  and  southern  faces  are  both 
rectilinear. 

It  is  very  difficult  to  judge  at  present  of  the  interior 
arrangement,  ou  account  of  the  accumulated  rubbish  and 
brambles  whtcli,  during  many  centuries,  have  concealed 
the  walls  under  piles  of  vegetable  matter.  The  site  of  a 
large  central  hatl  may  still  be  recognised,  in  the  centre  of 
which  a  well  opens  into  a  deep  cave  or  cistern.  Against 
the  eastern  face  of  this  hall  reat  tlio  partition-walls  of  two 
square  rooms ;    and,  lastly,  in  a  parallel  line  with  tlte 


I 


> 


ANTIQUE  CDBEB  OF   MOSAIC. 


339 


I 


I 


entraacG  face  may  be  traced  the  walls  of  another  hail 
formiiig  a  paraJiclogiam,  aituatcd  to  tlio  right.  Thirty 
yards  in  front  of  tlio  northorii  face  is  a  wall  running 
parallel  thereto,  but  of  which  only  the  foundations  are 
visible.  Another  similar  wall  may  be  traced  sixty  yards 
in  front  of .  the  eastern  face.  Vestiges  of  other  walls 
parallel  to  the  builthng  are  conspicuons,  also,  towardei  the 
north-western  and  soutli-eastern  angles ;  but  it  is  most 
important  to  obscn'O,  that  on  the  northern  and  southern 
boes  additional  wall?  intcrcoptod  at  right  angles  the  walls 
of  the  outer  eBcloaure,  as  well  as  those  forming  a  con- 
tinuation of  the  side  supports  of  the  main  building,  so  as 
to  constitute  a  scries  of  enclosures  within  the  outer  walls. 

In  other  respects,  there  is  not  ttic  slightest  analogy  as 
to  constnictioti  between  tlie  walls  of  the  central  edifice 
and  those  of  tlic  enclosure.  To  form  the  sides  of  the 
building,  the  primitive  rock  has  been  cut  and  faced  with 
blocks  of  lava ;  whilst  the  outer  walls,  now  reduced  to  their 
foundations,  are  hailt  of  rude  masses  of  unsliapcd  stone, 
exactly  resembling  the  long  walls  we  have  j^assed  and 
crossed  so  often,  during  several  hours. 

I  find  here  one  of  those  uncouth  cubes  of  mosaic,  to 
which  I  venture  to  ascribe  a  very  remote  antiquity ;  and 
its  presence  satisfiefi  me  that  there  havo  existed  in  Schihan 
monuments  anterior  to  the  Greek  and  Roman  civilisation, 
and  tliat  the  ruins  wc  have  just  examined  are  vcRtigea  of 
these  early  constnictioiui. 

Some  arclutectural  remaintt,  unfortunately  few  id 
number,  lie  scattered  amongst  the  rubbish,  and  I  hasten 
to  sketch  their  outline.  They  consist  chiefly  of  a  frag- 
roent.  in  lava,  which  formed,  in  all  probability,  the  base  of 
the  lateral  pilaster  of  a  gate  :  the  mouldings  of  this  base 


I  a 


S40 


OltlOIK   OF  TUB  lOHlC  CAPITAL. 


rcsi>mblu  closely  those  used,  in  Uie  ctaMtcal  ordem.  The 
Knnie  oh^rration  applies  to  another  fragment  of  a  coruice 
m  gray  limestone. 

The  most  interesting;  of  the  whole  is  tJie  capital  of  a 
pillar,  also  of  gray  1imc<tono,  a  little  more  tliaii  a  foot  in 
height,  and  twenty-eight  inches  across  the  upper  diameter; 
whilst  t!ie  shaft  of  the  column  has  only  a  diameter  of 
seventeen  inches  aud  a  half.  It  may  certainly  he  taken 
for  an  Ionic  capital,  but  of  an  ecoCDtric  model ;  for 
instance,  the  volutes,  of  small  proportions,  are  separated 
by  two  largo  ovolos,  and  between  tho  volutes  and  tlie 
adjacent  ovolos,  palm-leaves  are  figured  on  the  shafl. 
Certainly,  a  capital  liko  iLis  luis  but  a  verj-  remote  analogy 
with  the  loiiic  capital,  and  those  who  carved  it  must  have 
been  rude  barbarians,  belonging  to  a  period  preceding 
rsther  thiui  following  t!ie  ago  of  the  Grecian  artists  to 
whom  wc  are  indebted  for  the  fine  proportions  of  tiie  tnw 
Ionic  style. 

From  tho  platform  of  the  ruins  of  Schihan  we  command 
the  cnlii-e  plain  of  Moah.  Southward,  tliis  plain  extends 
beyond  our  view  ;  eastwards,  it  seems  bounded  hy  a  range 
of  blue  mountains,  but  they  arc  too  far  off  for  us  to  asccr* 
tain  the  exact  distance.  Northward,  half  a  league  from  us, 
opens  tho  Ouad-ol-Moudjeb,  cutting  abruptly  across  the 
plain,  and  looking  like  an  immense  rent  or  fissure  iu  the 
ground.  This  ciuad  appears  to  wind  directly  from  the 
westward,  until  nearly  o]>poaitc  Sdiihan  ;  but  after  that,  it 
bends  visibly  towards  the  south-east. 

Whilst  wc  were  busily  occupied  examining  the  ancient 
structures  of  Schilian.  some  in  search  of  insects,  others  of 
antique  fi-agments,  I  hear  an  aninwted  conversation  going 
on  outside.    I   climb  the  out«r  wall,  and  discover  fire 


)UI(t&. 


341 


^ 


Arabs  on  foot,  armed  iiTith  guns,  yatagluinK,  and  khaiidjant, 
discoursing  from  a  distance  with  our  two  guides,  ■who  are 
busily  engaged  in  devom-ing  tlieir  Iiiilf-rofisted  lapvring. 

From  whence  have  these  new  comers  i,ssTied  1  We  had 
trusted  to  the  ver^r  nature  of  tlio  site  of  SchJIian  to  dismiss 
every  apprehension  of  siu-prise.  From  the  top  of  such 
an  eminence  we  commanded  the  plain  as  far  as  the  eye 
could  resell,  in  all  directions,  B.ud  licrc  we  have  su<ldenly 
five  Bedouins  upon  our  hands — five  Bedouins,  too.  with 
anything  but  honest  intentions,  as  I  gather  from  their  cod- 
rersation  with  our  guides. 

'■  What  do  you  want  ?" 

■■  To  plunder  the  travellei-s  you  have  conducted  here." 

"Thoy  arc  under  our  protection,  aud  you  shall  attempt 
nothing  of  the  kind." 

"  What  nonseiise !     Join  us,  and  we  will  go  sKarcs." 

"Stand  ofl'!"  and  a  gun  was  pointed  against  the 
brigands. 

T  then  saw  one  of  them  adyancc.  notwithstanding  this 
warning  ;  and  our  second  guide,  who  had  no  othtn-  weapon 
than  a,  dabboiis,  or  club  of  hard  wood,  struck  him  such  a 
vigorous  blow  upon  the  shoidder,  that  the  rascal  griinied 
horribly,  and  stopped  to  rnb  liis  disabled  arm. 

I  had  already  seized  the  fowling-piece,  which  I  carried 
as  usual  slung  across  my  shoulder ;  and,  having  cocked 
both  barrels,  stood  prepared  to  send  a  couple  of  bullets 
"against  two  of  the  rascals  who  wore  advancing  to 
assail  ua. 

On  the  blow  being  struck  with  the  club,  they  paused  a 
moment  1  shouted  to  my  companions,  '■  Stand  to  yom- 
r,  and  look  to  your  horses  I  we  are  attacked  ! "     In  a 

•inkling  we  arc  all  together,  and  a  line  of  five  good 


4 


MS 


THK   KOBllERS   BAULKED. 


double-barrelted  guns  arc  suddenly  exhibited  to  the  hostile 
strangers,  who  Uad  imagined  tlial  tliey  had  merely  to  deal 
with  imprudent  ramblers.  The  sight  of  our  arms  produced 
its  unfailinf;  c0ect,  and  the  livo  briganda  became  at  ouoe 
subinisssivc  aud  poUt«. 

We  mounted  our  horses  sgmn,  and,  once  in  the  saddle, 
1  ordered  the  iiiti-udont  to  the  front,  warning  them  to  take 
care  of  themselves,  if  tliey  did  not  wish  to  digest  a  nieal  of 
powder  and  load.  8u<;h  is  the  u-sual  formula  in  ihia 
rouutry,  exchanged  between  parties  who  underetand  each 
other.  We  had  no  occasion  to  repeat  the  hint,  and  our 
brigands,  looking  a.1  silly  as  foxee  entrapped  by  a  hou, 
preceded  us  obsequiously  in  the  direction  of  our 
oncanipraent. 

They  now  tried  to  put  as  honest  a  face  as  they  oould  ou 
the  matter,  and  assumed  the  air  of  sportsmen  on  a  hunting 
party.  To  dis^iel  from  their  minds  any  sudden  temptation 
with  wbich  they  might  be  seized  to  turn  ou  U8  unex- 
pectedly with  a  volley  of  musketiy,  we  marrh  in  open  file 
and  close  behind  them,  ready  to  give  our  fire  at  the 
slightest  symptom  of  hostility.  All  therefore  goes  as 
smoothly  and  as  graciously  as  possible. 

On  our  way  wo  put  up  some  partridges,  and  our  new 
friends  invite  uS  to  have  a  shot  at  them.  I  forbid  my 
companions  to  comply,  who  readily  understand,  without 
further  explauatiou,  tlint  this  is  no  time  to  waJtt«|)owderon 
inoffensive  birds.  I  return  tlie  politeness  of  our  Bcdonins, 
by  begging  them  to  fire  themselves  at  the  game  tbej  Imve 
recommended  to  our  notice.  Ouo  of  them  then  crawled 
on  all-fours,  creeping  like  a  snake  for  more  than  a  himdred 
paces,  concealing  himself,  by  some  inexplicable  pi-ocess, 
behind  stonos  scarcely  hi^cr  than  a  man's  &sl.     1q  thin 


^^PLEVDID  BUOT  WITH   A  BLOW 


313 


I 


maoucr  ho  continued  to  approach  within  reach  of  the 
core;  ;  then,  throwing  himself  flat  on  Ujo  ground,  hehinci 
a  block  of  stone,  he  took  a  long  aim  before  ho  fired  from 
an  iutcnniaablc  carbine,  and  fmrly  cut  in  two  tho  unlucky 
bird  he  had  covered. 

Dccidedlj'  these  gentlemen  are  good  marksmen,  bat 
tltey  require  a  slow  aim.  His  shot  having  taken  effect, 
the  sportsman  pickt-d  up  bis  divided  bird,  and  handed 
it  to  mc  in  triumph.  I  dochncd  the  offer,  but  gave 
him  two  pia-streij  as  a  bakhshish,  and  in  token  of  our  ad- 
miration for  the  splendid  shot  with  which  he  had 
astonished  us. 

Those  adventurers  had  discovered  that  there  was 
uothiug  to  be  done  with  us,  and  that  they  had  impru- 
dently embarked  in  a  faihug  cutcrpriso.  They  were  now 
anxious  to  take  their  leave  before  we  reached  oui'  tents, 
where  some  of  our  friendly  Scheiklis  miglit  rccogniBO  and 
punish  them  severely.  As  wo  nearod,  on  our  return,  the 
Ouad-Eindebt-a,  they  vanished  as  suddenly  as  they  had 
made  their  appearance,  and  we  found  ourselves  amongst 
our  own  people,  with  no  other  escort  than  the  two  Beni- 
liammids  who  luid  accompiinied  us  at  starting.  Thia 
Itttlo  adventure  acted  as  a  lesson,  and  taught  us,  by 
eiperionce,  that  prudence  was  not  superfluous  whilst 
among  the  savages  into  whose  dena  we  were  boldly 
venturing. 

Tho  remamder  of  the  Aay  was  parsed  iu  making  our 
way  hack  to  tho  Redjom-ol-Aabed,  and  in  securing  our- 
ulves  against  tlie  piercing  wind  that  whistled  round  us. 
Belly  has  drawn  with  wonderful  exactness  a  copy  of  the 
Moabitic:  bas-relief  1  strain  my  wits  to  hit  upon  some 
plan  of  carrying  off  this  prize ;  but  it  appears  quite  hope- 


U4 


AX    ECLll-SK   OF    THE    MOON. 


less  and  impossible  to  transport  a  block  of  compact  lava, 
four  feet  long,  two  feet  wide,  and  a  foot  and  a  half  tbick. 
It  weigtis  considerably  more  than  two  thousand  pouuds, 
and  no  beast  of  burtliea  in  the  world  could  carry  sucli  a 
load  through  the  journey  wc  have  before  us.  Then  how 
arc  we  to  manage  1  3Iust  we  reidgn  the  treasure  I  I  hare 
some  idea  of  despatching  a  Bedouin  to  Karak.  to  bring 
back  a  stonecutter,  who  shall  reduce  the  Sle/on  on  the 
side  at  the  back  of  the  figm-c,  decreasing  its  weight  in  the 
»anie  proportion.  An  envoy  volunteers  immediately  ;  but 
he  requires  eight  hours  to  go  and  eight  more  to  return  ; 
and  is  he  Ukcly  to  IJud  a  stouccuttcr  wilUug  to  place  me 
in  a  position  to  carry  off  this  bas-relief,  in  opposition  to 
tlie  wishes  of  a  whole  tribe,  wlio  expect  to  extract  there- 
from an  amiual  tribute  of  a  dynar  each  ?  The  attempt 
may  bring  the  tribe  unanimously  upon  our  shoulders. 
All  points  being  duly  balanced,  I  give  up  the  attempt, 
disiuiss  the  messenger,  and  console  myself  with  the  sketch 
in  my  ))ortfo1io,  and  the  hope  of  taking  an  exact  impres- 
sion to-morrow. 

Our  evening  passes  as  usual,  and  we  get  through  the 
ordinary  work  as  last  as  possible,  to  escape  from  the  north 
wind  wliich  ta-shcs  ua  through  the  canvass  walls  of  our 
tent,  and  screen  ourselves  from  its  rough  salutation  under 
our  blaukfts. 

Before  retiring,  we  have  had  the  pleasure  of  contem- 
plating a  fine  eclipse  of  the  moon,  which  took  us  com* 
plotely  unawares ;  but,  as  we  are  not  astronomers,  we  are 
content  to  bestow  a.  moment's  rapid  admiration  on  this 
grand  j)henonienon  of  natui'e,  and  creep  to  our  couches  as 
fast  as  possible. 


A   OULU  NiOHT. 


315 


^ 
^ 


I 


/ainwtry  IStd 

The  cold  hoK  been  so  intense  during  t)io  iiiglit  Uiat 
all  our  bivouac  fiies  have  beeu  deserted.  Our  faithful 
Ahouad  is  tlie  only  one  wlio  has  remained  at  his  post ; 
»ud  this  morning  he  {ireseuts  himself  in  our  tent  quito 
beaumbed,  but  good-humoured  still,  to  ioquirc  if  we 
have  suffered  from  the  cliill.  A  noble  creature,  proud 
in  conscious  fidelity,  and  the  absolute  trust  we  repose 
in  him. 

By  degrees  our  Arabs  emerge  from  the  ruined  caves, 
the  cisterns  and  boles  of  every  kind  in  which  they  have 
Bought  shelter  fi-om  the  piercing  wind,  aud  our  little 
army  is  mustered  in  fuil  force  ;  but,  unaccustomed  to 
this  chilling  temperature,  they  shiver  and  look  very 
miBeraHc. 

At  break  of  day  I  take  bearings  with  the  compass, 
which  enable  me  to  mark  correctly  the  positions  of  the 
Ouad-ech-Cheqiq,  of  the  Oiuid-Emdebia,  and  of  Schilian. 
Near  the  bottom  of  the  Ouad-ech-Chcqiq,  and  on  the 
declirity  opposite  to  that  upon  which  we  have  passed  the 
night,  we  descry  some  black  spots ;  these  are  the  tents  of 
an  encampment  of  the  Bcui-Hammid,  who  have  estab- 
lished themselves  by  a  spring ;  the  same  whence  oui' 
table  was  supplied  for  last  night's  meat  Our  horses  have 
been  watered  from  an  ancient  cistern,  amongst  the  ruins 
beyond  the  Ouad-Emdeb&L. 

The  Bedouin  encampment  I  have  just  mentioned, 
affords  us  many  visitors.  I  question  them  aiixiouiily 
concerning  the  ruins  which  surround  us,  and  try  to 
ascertain  if  there  are  other  sculptured  stones,  besides 
the  one  at  the  Kedjom-el-Aabud.      One  of  them  then 


SiQ 


TUK  OKOTTO  OF  TUK   0EitV18K. 


mentions  to  me  a  grotto  excavated  lu  tlio  rock,  lying  odIj 
a  Tow  hundred  yards  from  our  caiup,  towards  tLe  eastern 
extremity  of  the  Ivharljet-Fouqoiia.  This  grot*o  is  called 
Morliarrat-od-Darouich  (the  grotto  of  (lie  dervise).  I 
UastoD  thither,  under  the  conduct  of  a  guide,  hoping  to  be 
repaid  for  ttic  trouhlo  I  am  takiug ;  hut  I  liud  only  a 
round  cistcru,  eleven  yards  in  diameter,  hewn  from  the 
rock,  and  the  entrance  difGcult  of  accosii.  At  the  bottom 
of  tJiitt  cistcru  lie  two  fragments  of  coUimns,  in  lava,  oue 
of  tliein  nine,  the  other  Bftcen  inches  in  diameter.  At  the 
extremitiott  of  these  fragments  arc  holes  bored  through 
the  axis,  and  which  must  have  served  as  grooves  for 
spiudluK.  No  doubt  they  are  tiione  rollers,  sucb  as  the 
Arabs  use  to  press  and  level  the  terraces  on  theii-  roofs. 
as  soon  as  it  begins  to  rain,  to  prevent  the  water  from 
penetrating  into  their  houiics.  The  use  of  these  rollers  in 
Asia  may  be  traced  back  to  the  earliest  periods ;  ibr 
M.  Botta  has  found  some  in  the  ruins  of  the  Kincvito 
palaces  of  Khorsabad. 

The  Morharrat-ed-Darouich  offers,  however,  some  inte- 
resting suhjocts  for  observation  ;  the  walls,  with  the 
exception  of  the  ceilings,  have  been  entirely  coated  with 
a  thick  layer  of  stucco,  and  this  stucco  was  impressed 
with  devices  in  a  uniform  pattern,  as  high  as  the  natural 
rock  composing  tlic  roof.  A  treble  line  of  ari-ows,  dis- 
posed obliquely,  like  the  back-bone  of  a  fish,  encii-clea  the 
whole  extent  about  two  yards  above  the  ground.  Over 
these  tlu-ee  lines,  the  entire  surfece  is  ornamented  with 
suiall  crooked  arrows,  their  points  tm'ucd  upwards ; 
whilst  below  the  lines  the  same  are  repeatetl,  with  their 
poiuta  reversed  ;  and  lastly,  the  iuterior  coating  of  the 
cement  is  mixed  up  with  abundant  tragmonts  of  tlat 


I 


THK    UABCII   RB81THRD. 


M7 


pottery,  or  ratlier  cakes  of  burnt  clay,  disposed,  no  doubt, 
for  the  purpose  of  giving  greabcr  consistency  to  the 
stucco  ;  whilst  the  outer  coating  has  boon  kucaded  with 
small  fragments  of  tlint. 

Having  fini&tied  my  tioten,  I  liast«n  to  return  to  camp, 
my  mind  still  intent  upon  the  bas-relioC  an  impression  of 
which  I  immediately  commenced.  For  nearly  an  hoar, 
in  the  hope  of  achieving  it,  I  struggled  agaJniit  a  most 
unfrieudly  easterly  wind,  which  constantly  blew  oft"  the 
wet  Bhects  of  jiajwr  I  was  moulding  against  tlio  figure, 
whenever  my  hand  was  taken  away.  I  had  to  begin 
over  and  over  again,  though  1  tried  to  form  a  screca 
with  our  kitchen  tabic,  but  all  in  vain.  1  spoiled  a  rant 
(luantity  of  the  paper  intended  for  my  herlwil,  in  trying 
lo  form  a  mould  of  suHicicut  consistency  to  cover  and 
retain  all  the  relievos ;  but  whenever  1  imagined  1  was 
making  some  progress,  the  wind  defeated  my  exertions, 
and  com})cUcd  mo  to  rcuounco  an  undertaking  for  wliich 
my  skill  and  materials  were  equally  inadequate.  I  say 
notiiing  of  tho  ill-humour  and  vexation  produced  by  this 
unlucky  (ailui-e. 

When  I  had  fairly  renounced  my  attempt  in  despair, 
I  gave  orders  to  strike  our  tents  and  commence  our  march 
as  soon  as  possible.  I  had  lost  quite  enough  time  to  no 
purpose,  and  was  obliged  to  console  myself  with  an  excel- 
lent drawing  in  place  of  the  model 

By  seven  minutes  [mst  nine  our  Uttle  force  was  in 
motion,  and  we  left  Kharhet-l''on(]ona,  proceeding  at  firat 
eastward,  and  jtassing  again  within  twenty  yards  of  the 
Eedjom-el-Aabed,  towards  which  1  throw  a  last  look  of 
covetous  regret  When  we  had  rcache<l  the  cistern,  close 
by  the  monument,  and  only  one  hundred  yanis  distant 


w 


AYKSUK  or  STOKES — RUINS. 


from  the  brink  of  the  Ouad-ecli-Cheqiq,  we  turned  off  at 
ten  minutes  past  nine  to  thv  soutli -south-east,  leaving  to 
our  right  a  vast  uumbcr  of  ruins,  whikl  tUusu  on  our  led 
had  nuarlv  ilisappcarcd.  At  this  spot  where  the  high 
table-land  extends  three  hundred  ^ards  to  the  east  of  the 
Duad,  wo  are  marching  parallel  to  an  avenue  of  stones, 
with  one  bi-anch  shooting  off  through  the  niitia,  in  Uie 
direction  of  the  Ouad-cch-Chcqiq.  IJut  soon  this  avcuuo, 
which  was  at  first  fifteen  yards  distant  on  our  right,  draws 
closer  to  our  route,  and  by  twenty  minutes  past  nine  wo 
find  ourselves  again  between  two  linos  of  lava  blocks. 
Here  the  Ouad-ech-Chcqiq  has  increased  its  distance  from 
us  to  about  six  hundred  yards,  and  keeps  bearing  away 
to  the  southward,  whilst  we  coutiuue  our  course  south- 
Bouth-east. 

We  now  enter  cultivated  grounds,  without  any  other 
sign  of  ruins  than  the  avenue  of  stones,  through  wfaich 
wc  keep  marching  witJiout  any  deviation.  By  twenty- 
four  minutes  past  nine  this  avenue  disappears,  but  iii 
immediately  succeeded  by  a  paved  road  made  of  blocks 
of  lava.  To  the  right  and  left  appear  again  some  niins 
of  no  great  extent.  By  thirty-three  minutes  past  nine 
we  observe  to  our  left,  about  one  hundred  yards  oK 
a  double  circular  enclosure,  built  with  blocks  of  la\-a, 
one  hundred  yards  in  diameter,  and  with  a  mass 
of  rubbish  in  the  centre.  This  enclosure  is  tiituated 
on  the  bank  of  a  muddy  sti-caiu  we  are  obliged  to 
cross,  and  which  reduces  the  ground  to  a  perfect 
swamp. 

No  sooner  have  wo  crossed  this  litream,  than  the 
avenue  of  stones  shows  itself  again,  ten  yards  off  to 
Ihu  left  of  our  route ;    and,  crossing  it  by  thirty-seven 


i 
I 


BUIN8   OF    A    LARGE    CITY. 


340 


minutos  past  nine,  inclines  ofT  again  to  disappc^ir  in  n 
short  time  to  the  smithw.ard.  To  our  left,  niina  thinly 
scattered  are  still  observable.  We  are  vet  in  sight  of 
Schihan,  this  last-niimcJ  place  commanding  the  whole 
of  the  plain  through  which  we  are  travelling.  By 
forty  minutes  pa^t  nine  tve  reach  a  mass  of  fragments, 
the  intersecting  point  of  two  walls  at  right  angles  with 
each  other,  one  of  those  walls  pointing  directly  from 
north  to  south.  Immediately  after,  the  perpetual  avenue 
of  stones  again  borders  our  road. 

Here  we  perceive  more  ruins,  consisting  of  long  walls 
intersecting  our  avenue,  and  of  some  circular  piles.  The 
name  given  to  these  ruins  by  the  Arabs  puzzles  me ;  the 
first  I  question  tells  inc  they  arc  called  Kharhet-Bigdalen, 
and  tliis  strange  pronunciation  prevents  me  from  under- 

t^sfcanding  the  word.  As  T  doubt  its  being  correct,  I 
repeat  the  question  to  others,  and  some  jironounce  the 
name  Kharbet-Medjeleln.  I  then  recognise  tlie  plural 
of  the  word  Medjdel  ;  the  real  name  means,  therefore, 
ihc  ruins  of  the  two  fortresses. 

At  forty-five  minutes  past  nine  we  are  still  in  our 
avenue  of  stones,  with  another  similar  avenue  branching 
off  to  tlic  riglit  in  a  south-westerly  direction.  And  lastly, 
by  fifty  minutes  past  nine,  wo  find  ourselves  encircled  by 
tlie  vast  niins  of  a  city,  to  which  the  avenue  wo  have 
been  so  long  following,  leads,  and  crowning  the  northern 

I  -bank  of  an  ouad,  of  no  great  depth  at  this  point  where 
it  begins.  The  ((pjioaitc  bank  of  the  ouad  is  composed 
of  perpendicular  rocks  of  moderate  height ;  and  on  this 
bank  we  observe,  immediately  before  us,  an  old  square 
tower,  of  fine  workmanship,  probably  Roman,  and  in 
good  preservation. 


8S0 


B0V8B8  WITH   STUANOE   CARVtVOS. 


The  ruius  by  which  we  are  surronnded  consist  of 
houses,  that  look  as  if  tlicy  had  been  eudUcnly  crushod, 
notwiUiHtanding  tJic  solidity  of  their  construction,  and 
three  parts  of  which  are  buried  under-ground.  All  seem 
to  be  provided  with  large  ceUare,  wliilat  these  apparent 
cellars  are  nothing  moro  titan  the  ground-floors  of  the 
original  dwelling-places.  Some  fragmeDts  of  sculpturo 
present  strange  carvings,  of  whicli  I  hasten  to  take 
a  sketch.  Near  the  upper  lodge  of  the  ravino,  the 
avenue  of  stones  forms  a  cross-way  with  several  branches, 
one  of  which  turns  eastward,  whilst  another  follows  a 
westerly  direction,  along  the  ouad,  which  forms  the  com- 
mencement of  the  Ouad-beni-Hammid. 

By  five  minutes  past  ten,  after  a  quarter  of  an  hour's 
halt,  wo  resume  our  march,  turning  at  first  eastward, 
but  to  resume  almost  immediately  our  constant  sootb- 
eastcrly  dircctiuiL  Here  Die  road  passes  directly  through 
a  square  enclosure,  of  about  a  hundred  yards  on  each 
face,  divided  into  five  parallel  compartments  by  walls 
about  twenty  yartis  distant  from  ('ach  other.  Beyond 
this  enclosure  the  ruins  disappear.  By  a  quarter-past 
ten  we  have  left  two  hundred  and  fifty  yards  behind  us 
the  square  tower  just  mentioned,  and  discover,  at  one 
hundred  and  fifty  yards  in  advance,  to  om-  right,  a  vast 
rectangular  mound,  of  no  great  height,  but  covered  with 
extensive  ruins  ;  and  to  our  left  a  flat  crowned  luMock, 
forty  or  fifty  yards  in  diameter,  surmounted  equally  bj 
ruins.  By  twenty-six  minutes  past  ten  we  arc  exactly 
between  the  two  masses,  which  bear  in  common  tht 
name  of  Kliarbct-Tcdouro. 

We  alight  anxiously,  in  the  hope  of  making  some 
interesting  discovery,   and   this   hope   is   not    falsified. 


ItKMAlXS  OF    A    TBMPlJt. 


351 


A  structure,  built  of  fine  hewn  stone,  stands  on  the 
northern  front  of  tho  liirgo  ciiotoatiro  ;  and  to  this  we 
ininicdiately  direct  our  steps. 

The  first  object  tliat  strikes  us  is  a  huge  block  of 
stone,  in  whicli  have  been  excavated  tlie  mouth  and  the 
trougli  of  a  woU. 

li  The  building  which  wo  have  come  to  examine  is  a 
square  edifice,  of  rather  more  than  thirty  foet  on  each 
side  ;  its  walls  are  two  feet  and  a  half  in  thickness,  and 
still  above  six  foet  and  a  half  in  height.     Openings  of 

.  gfttcs  arc  insihlo  on  three  of  its  faces — the  northern,  the 
eastern,  and  the  soutliorn  ;  but  one,  the  northcm,  is  at 
present  blocked  up.  Judging  from  its  dimensions,  this 
was  originnllv  the  principal  entrance.  This  gate  is  more 
than  seven  feet  wide,  and  has  been  very  neatly  walled 
in  with  large  blocks  of  stone.  It  is  partly  buried,  and 
the  entablature  is  formed  of  a  single  block,  thirty  inches 
long  and  fifty  high.  This  entablature  exhibits  an  unusual 
system  of  u)0uldiug»,  all  originating  in  straight  lines.  On 
one  of  tho  intermediate  stjuare  compartTnonts.  or  plat- 
bands, has  been  traced,  in  large  Cufic  or  Arabic  characters, 
coeval  with  the  first  period  of  the  Mussulman  conquoats, 
the  formula  Bism-IUah  (in  the  name  of  God).  Perhaps 
this  was  inscribed  there  when,  the  edifice  tiaving  been 
changed  into  a  >rahonimedan  temple,  the  original 
entrance  was  walled  in. 

The  gate  opening  into  the  eastern  face  is  little  more 
titan  three  feet  wide ;  it  is  set,  as  in  a  frame,  between 
the  bases  of  two  rectangular  pillars.  The  outward  face  of 
these  pillars  is  sixteen  inches  broad,  while  the  faco  parallel 
to  tlie  axis  of  the  gate  scarcely  exceeds  thirty.  The  gate 
in  the  south-eastern  wall  is  without  any  ornament,  and 


SSft 


DESCRlFTIOIf   or  TllE  TKUPLR. 


not  moro  than  twenty-seven  inchas  wide.  An  axenuo  of 
stones,  ten  yards  broad,  leads  up  to  tins  face ;  and,  as  the 
whole  structure  is  buiU  upon  a  mound,  it  is  still  pcrcep< 
table  that  the  access  from  tho  ])Iain  was  by  a  flight  of 
fourteen  or  fifteen  steps,  nearly  a  yard  in  breadth,  formed 
in  the  ^'ound  and  ed^rcd  with  masonry. 

Inclining  against  the  western  wall  of  this  building  U 
another  enclosure,  extending  ten  yards  on  eat^li  side, 
divided  by  a  wall  parallel  to  the  northern  front,  and 
some  distance  in  tlic  rear:  this  second  enclosure  is 
thrown  back  a  little  to  Iho  northward  of  tho  first  . 

Fifteen  yards  in  front  of  the  eouthem  face  there  n  a 
small  circular  hillock,  on  the  summit  of  which  stands  a 
portion  of  a  stone  column,  rounded  on  throe  sides  only, 
and  surmounted  by  a  plain  parallelopiped,  twenty  inches 
in  length,  eighteoti  ui  breadth,  and  ten  id  thickness. 
A  few  yards  from  this  mound  is  another  fragment  of  a 
colunm,  rather  more  than  twelve  inches  in  diameter. 

I  have  hero  given  an  accurate  description  of  this 
ancient  structure,  apparently  intended  for  rclig^oug 
purposes.  From  a  Pagan  temple  it  had  most  likely  been 
converted  into  a  Christian  church  ;  and  again,  at  the 
period  of  the  Mussulman  conquest,  transformed  into  a 
mosque  for  the  followers  of  Mohammed.  Why  I  think 
a  Christian  cluirch  existed  there,  under  the  Byzantine 
monarchy,  is  founded  on  tho  presence,  at  the  foot  of  Uio 
northern  wall,  of  a  square  capital  grooved  or  fluted  on  all 
its  faces,  and  twined  with  knots.  At  the  first  glance  this 
capital  reminded  me  forcibly  of  the  capitals  of  the  two  boo 
marble  pillars,  taken  from  the  church  of  Saint  Saba  of 
Acre,  by  the  Venetians,  and  placed  on  the  right  of 
St.  Mark's,  at  tho  entrance  of  the  Doge's  palace.    This 


I 


RUtHS  OP   nRI'r-RI^KP.RM. 


853 


capital  18  Uurtj  inches  broad,  twelve  inches  high,  antl 
Hixteen  long  on  the  lower  surface. 

I  would  have  wished  to  have  had  more  time  at  my 
coinraand  to  devote  to  the  iavestigation  of  these  interest- 
ing rcmaius ;  hut  tlic  morning  was  fast  wearing  away ; 
we  were  still  far  from  Karak,  where  we  purposed  to  halt 
for  the  night,  and  it  wa^  already  past  eleven  o'clock. 
It  was.  therefore,  impossible  to  tarry  longer  without 
exjKising  ourselves  to  travel  in  darkness,  a  proceeding 
as  little  agreeable  to  the  taste  of  our  Arabs  as  to  our 
own. 

By  a  quarter-past  eleven  we  leave  Kharbet-Tedoum, 

turning  eastward  in  the  direction  of  the  mound  strewed 

iVUh  ruins,  to  which  1  have  already  allndod.     This  mound 

only  two  hundred  yards  distant  from  the  building  just 

described ;  it  is  at  least  forty  yardu  in  diameter,  and, 

[-without  doubt,  some  important  structure  mu&t  liavc  been 

terected  there.     Wliat  it  waa  I  am  unable  to  guess.    As 

soon  as  we  have  passed  this  mound  wn  resume  our  march, 

at  first  in  a  aouth-south-eastcru  direction  ;  but  for  the 

[last  hour  we  have  observed,  far  off  to  our  left,  a  Hfiuare* 

[building,  whicli  seems  of  considerable  importance.    "  What 

[is  thatt"'    I   inquire  of  our    Arabs.      "Nothing   worth 

looking  at,"  is  the  ready  answer,  "  it  is  only  tlio  iteit-el- 

icrm"  (the  house  of  the  vine).     This  is  all  tlic  Jnforma- 

ftion  I  can  extract  from  them.    In  the  middle  of  uaked 

[and  level  plains  a  structure  of  such  magnitude  seems  to 

lie  rather  extraordinary. 

I  liesitate,  nevertheless,    apprehensive    of  the    uight, 
rhich  may  surprise  ua  on  the  road.     I  am  much  tempted 
pasfi  this  ruin  without  notice ;  I  compromise  with  my 
cieDce,  and  resist  the  instances  of  Rothschild,    who 


VOT..  L 


A   TETBAHTTUC   TEMPLR. 


rtMlililii  on  seeing  wl>at  it  is.  I  tetl  tiim  wc  must  lialt 
at  Br-Babbali.  where  in  all  prphabilitv  wo  shall  be  obliged 
to  encamp.  Riid  that  from  thence  we  can  return  to  risit 
Beit-el -Kenii.  Rothscliild  t»  obstinate,  and  at  last  we 
determine  to  allow  our  hi^;age,  already  considerably  in 
adv-a»ce,  to  proceed  on  the  march,  whilst  we  strike  off 
the  road,  marching  directly  towards  the  ruin  in  sight,  to 
the  utter  discomfiture  of  all  our  Scheikhs. 

Twenty  minutes  past  eleven  hare  arrived  when  we 
determine  on  this  detour,  and  we  push  our  horses  to 
their  speed,  chat  we  may  lose  no  time.  We  are  now 
proceeding  due  eaxt,  along  an  isolated  ruin,  or  rather  by 
a  heap  of  shapeless  rubbish.  When  wc  have  arrived 
within  a  few  hundred  yards  of  the  Beit-el-Kerm, 
Rotlischild  darts  forward,  reaches  the  ruin,  behind 
which  he  disappears  for  a  moment,  and  then,  sudd^ly 
returning,  shouts  in  admiration — "  Come  along  I  come 
quick  I  It  is  as  Roe  as  Baalbek!"  This  eufficea  to 
excite  the  whole  party  to  a  rapid  gallop. 

By  tliirty-five  mintiteti  past  eleven  we  have  all  alighted, 
'and  participate  most  hcajtily  in  the  admiration  of  onr 
companion.  We  are  standing  in  front  of  the  remains  of 
a  magnificent  tetrastylic  temple,  oidently  of  the  same 
ponod  as  the  temples  of  Baalbek  ;  that  is  to  say,  coeval 
with  the  age  of  Adrian  ajid  the  Antonines, 

Tlie  ground  is  strewed  with  tambours  of  the  shafta  of 
pillars,  with  remains  of  capitals  and  fragments  of  cornices. 
How  lamentable  that  such  a  beautiful  monument  should 
have  been  overthrown !  Has  its  dcBtruction  been  pro- 
duced by  an  earthquake,  or  by  human  riolonce  T  I  preftr 
bflioving  in  a  catastrophe  indepciidcul  of  the  will  of  man. 
Be  tluit  as  it  may,  let  me  describe  what  is  left  of  thr 


I 

I 
I 

4 


I 

I 


A   TBTRA9TY1,IC   TBMPl.E. 


355 


marvellous  structure,  the  walls  of  which  are  still  four  or 
five  yards  high. 

It  is  a  perfect  roctajigle,  set  directly  to  the  east.  The 
front  aiid  rear  faces  are  nearly  one  hundred  feet  in  length ; 
the  two  lateral  facea  scarcely  exceed  ninety  feet.  The 
walls  are  six  feet  thick.  At  the  four  angles  tliey  project 
slightly  for  a  few  inches,  and  these  projections  extend 
nearly  eighteen  feet  along  the  lateral  faces,  and  twenty 
feet  along  the  front  and  back  walls.  The  interior 
measurement  of  the  temple  in  eighty-four  foet  by  sixty- 
eight 

On  tlie  front  face  were  placed  four  huge  columns,  four 
feet  in  diameter  ;  the  lower  divisions  of  Uicse  arc  still  in 
their  original  position.  Tlie  two  central  columns  are 
distant  from  each  other  twenty  feet,  fi-om  axis  to  axis.  A 
distance  of  fifteen  feet,  from  axis  to  axis,  divides  these 
two  columns  from  the  columns  at  each  angle  ;  and  all  four 
are  distant  seven  feet  from  the  inner  face  of  the  vestibule. 
This  vestibule  is  twenty  feet  in  depth.  The  gate  of  the 
temple  is  eleven  feet  wide.  To  the  right  and  kft  are  two 
consoles  or  brackets,  jutting  out  from  the  wall,  divided 
from  tlie  side-posts  of  the  gate  by  a  distance  of  nine  feet. 
A  projecting  panel,  four  feet  and  a  half  broad,  stands 
between  each  console  and  the  gate,  and  commences  only 
I  one  foot  and  a  half  from  tlie  edge  of  the  gate  on  the 
outside  ;  the  angular  projections  of  the  walls  are  united 
to  each  otiier  by  much  smaller  ones,  forming  altogether  a 
kind  of  general  base,  about  three,  feet  in  height  above  the 
present  ground. 

At  the  further  end  of  the  temple,  two  walls,  each  five 
feet  thick,  standing  peqjcndicular  to  the  back,  and  seven 
yards  distant  from  each  othei-,  form  a  xaceitum  or  chajwl. 

A*  2 


8S6 


A   TKT8ASTYI.1C  TEMPLE. 


of  twoiily-ouc  square  feet,  the  front  ofwhkh  bows  out  in 
a  circle,  with  a  radius  of  eleven  feet.  The  whole  interior 
of  the  buihiing  is  enrunil)ere<I  with  blocks  of  stone 
fragmeiitJi  of  columns  and  capitals,  heapeil  in  a  perfect 
chaos  of  ruins,  through  which  it  is  cztrcmeljr  difficult  to 
effect  a  pfissage. 

The  place  is  often  resorted  to  as  a  temporary  abode  by 
the  Bedouins,  as  we  may  jwdge  from  the  fiirze,  or  rather 
compost  accumulated  for  litter.  This,  with  the  dung  of 
animalB  hardening  in  the  mm,  to  serve  as  fiiel,  indicates 
the  frequent  presence  of  man  in  this  ruined  temple.  Hither 
the  usual  inhabitants  have  gone  out  for  a  ramble,  or  they 
have  concealed  themselves  in  some  hole,  through  fear  of 
being  robbed  by  strangers.  One  thing  is  certaio,  doE  s 
living  soul  is  risible. 

Amongst  the  fme  fragments  of  sculpture,  strewn  around 
in  great  abundance,  and  some  of  wliich  have  been  used 
to  form  enclostires  rather  too  open  for  shelter,  we  find 
a  fine  arch-stone,  bearing  a  bust  of  AjwUo,  with  a  radiated 
head ;  n  magnificent  lion's  mouth,  formerly  used  as  a 
gutter-spout ;  numerous  Corinthian  capitahi,  more  or  less 
defaced  by  time ;  and  fragments  of  cornices,  embellished 
with  Tery  rich  foHage.  All  these  were  portions  of  the 
temple ;  but  there  are  others,  also,  which  cannot  have 
belonged  to  it.  Mouldings,  and  bases  of  columns,  of  a 
much  more  simple  style,  are  found  here  and  tJiere.  These, 
with  blocks  of  lava,  and  sculptiuvd  fragments  of  the  same 
material,  are  evident  signs  of  the  pre-existence  of  buildutgs 
on  this  spot,  much  more  ancient,  and  most  probably  of 
^foabitic  origin. 

We  congratulate  ourselves  on  having  gone  out  of  our 
road  to  examine  this  fine  i-uin,  which  is  certainly  little 


I 


A    PRBCBDISC   VISITANT. 


357 


I 


known  to  this  day.  thoiigli  we  are  not  Uio  fii-st  wlio  Lave 
paid  it  a  visit.  On  the  wall  of  the  vestibule  we  read  the 
name  of '■  HYDE,"  accompanied  by  the  d.ite,  1822  ;  these 
characters  having  been  carefnll  v  engraved  with  the  blade 
of  a  knife.  Who  is  this  traveller  ?  I  have  not  the  most 
remote  idea.  Our  friend  Loyael,  who  deeinn  his  credit 
injured  by  finding  at  Beit-el-Kenn  this  earlier  visiting- 
card  of  Mr.  Hyde,  incribes  his  own  name  above,  the  one 
already  there,  with  the  following  addition  :  Venu  dvant'.i! 
(anived  first).  I  need  scarcely  say  that  this  piece  of 
buffoonery  occasioned  a  general  laugh. 

Beit-el-Kenn  is  lucutioned  in  Zimmeimaii's  map ;  but 
in  front  of  the  locality  tluis  desiguatod,  he  has  placed  a 
mountain,  whii-h  I  can  positively  assert  does  not  osiat. 
Tlie  ground  on  whicli  the  ruins  stand  is  a  perfect  levcL 
Towards  the  nortii,  the  hillock  of  Schihan  Ls  the  only 
cniinenc*  visible ;  and  behind  us.  looking  suuthwai'd,  wo 
descry  a  trifling  elevation^  serving  as  a  bnsc  to  the  mine 
of  Er-itahl«Ui. 

It  ia  now  fifty  minutes  past  twelve,  and  we  have  wasted 
au  hour  and  a  half  at  Beit-el-Kerm.  These  gratuitous 
halts  are  not  at  all  to  the  t.\ste  of  our  Sdieikhs.  Every 
IDOment  they  urge  us  to  make  liaste,  and  get  on  horseback 
n.  At  Uat  wc  most  unwillingly  consent  to  do  so, 
and  march  across  the  plain,  in  a  direction  nearly  due 
uth,  inclining  a  few  degrees  to  the  eastward.  By  fifty- 
eight  minutes  past  twelve  we  pass  close  to  an  inclosure, 
cnntjiining  enormous  niins,  the  name  of  which  I  cannot 
obtain  from  any  of  our  Arabs,  who  have  never  heard  it 
mentioned.     We  arc  now  evidently  on  the  remains  of  an 

^  ancient  road,  taking  us  in  a  south-south-west  direction. 

^  By   a  quarter  after   one    we    pass,   od   our  loft,  at  the 


3&8 


tULT   AT    KUSABIUtl. 


distance  of  fire  hundnM  yards,  a  niQUiid  covered  with 
nibbisli  ;  and,  by  iwtfiity  miimtos  piiat  one,  other  and 
more  extensive  ruins  appear,  seven  hundred  yards  from 
Qa,  in  the  sanie  direction.  Neither  of  thoBe  appear  to  be 
known  by  any  specific  name. 

Bj  twenty-seven  minutes  past  one  we  are  in  front  of  the 
ruins  of  a  small  square  temple,  mast  prolwibty  of  Roman 
contit ruction.  Three  of  it.s  columns  ai-o  stilt  standing ; 
and  clos<!  by  these,  a  capital  is  lying  0!i  the  ground. 
The  area  within  ttiie  temple  is  paved.  At  the  spot 
where  tlie  road  rises  gently  before  us,  and  about  one 
hundred  yards  from  the  ruin  I  have  just  mentioned,  we 
re-enter  an  avenue  of  atones.  Icadiii);  us  through  the  ruitis 
of  Gr-Rahbali.  which  we  enter  by  half-past  one.  and  hall 
almost  im mediately. 

Wo  had  hoped  to  find  our  luggsge-mules  waiting  for 
us  at  Ei--Kabbah.  Alas  I  Alas  t  they  have  gone  on 
further,  and  our  cook  ai^conipanies  them.  We  cannot 
encamp  here,  and  niu»t  push  on  to  Rarak.  As  our  Arabs 
had  forewarned  ua,  there  is  not  a  drop  of  water  to  be 
found  iu  Br-Rabhab, — a  privation  equally  insupportable 
to  man  or  beast,  Fortunately,  we  discover  our  Mace- 
donian Nicholas,  who  has  had  the  good  sense  to  wait  for 
us ;  or  rather.  Itlatteo  has  posted  him  at  Er-Rabbah,  on 
the  look-out.  with  a  relay  of  provisions.  We  profit  by 
our  halt,  to  take  some  shghl  refreshment,  of  which  we 
were  greatly  in  need.  A  few  hard  eggs,  and  fowls 
even  harder  than  the  e^gs,  compose,  as  usual,  our 
banquet. 

As  soon  as  we  have  acq»iitted  ourselves,  witJi  the 
voracity  of  hungry  travellers,  we  hasten  to  throw  a 
glance  over  the  surrounding  ruins.     Every  n^ie  runs  by 


A    ROMAN   OATB. 


Iiiiiuclf,  mill,  scmuibling  over  tho  heaps  of  rubbiub,  stnrts 
ofl'  in  quest  of  niouumcnUi.  Eighty  yanls  distant  from 
tlie  spot  whore  we  have  halted,  is  a  fine  Roman  gate, 
which  has  been  spht  asmider  by  an  earthquake.  The 
principal  a]'cn<le  has  fallen  in,  but  to  the  right  and  left  uf 
it  are  still  existing,  in  perfect  preservation,  small  lateral 
arches,  walled  up,  aud  which  probably  have  never  beeu 
anything  more  than  imitation  gates.  Above  the  small 
one  on  the  right,  tho  large  hewn  stones  of  the  coping, 
shaken  from  their  places  by  the  earthquake  that  destroyed 
tlie  building,  have  slipped  over  each  other,  so  that  they 
seem  to  bo  suspended  in  the  air,  and  ready  tu  topple- 
down  at  the  slightest  shock.  Before  reaching  this  gate, 
we  observe  several  shafts  of  columns  still  standing  in  their 
original  plactis  ;  but.  excepting  these  fragments,  and  some 
fallen  capitals  lyiug  here  and  there  on  tlie  ground,  it 
seems  as  if  this  space  had  always  been  unencumbered 
with  buildings,  and  as  if  it  was  intended  aa  a  kind  of 
public  sfpiare. 

Rich  fragments,  of  uniform  style,  form  an  edging  along 
the  right-hand  side  of  the  road  leading  us  te  this  spot, 
and  this  edging  begins  from  the  very  foot  of  the  cuiinenoc 
covered  with  the  ruins  of  Kr-Kahbali. 

A  short  distauce  southwai-d  from  the  Uornan  gattr,  and 
oiily  fifty  yards  beyond  the  road,  is  a  square  cistern  of 
or<Uiiary  dimensions  ;  but  further  on.  a  hundi-ed  yards 
to  the  right,  is  a  sttcond  sijuare  cistern,  three  timcis 
larger  than  the  former,  and  altogether  of  etiormous  size. 
These  two  cisterns  ai-e  surrounded  by  extensive  ruins 
a  considerable  distance ;  a  quarter  of  the  town 
lias  evidently  existed  ou  this  side  of  the  road.  Ou 
llbc  left-hand  side,  the  ground   is  a    few  yards  higher. 


960 


rRAQMBNT   OP    MOABITIC  gCCLPTURE. 


and  the  ruins   on  all   aidwi  are  more  densely  lieajied 
togetlter. 

Two  hundred  yards  distant  to  tlic  left,  is  a  square 
enclosure,  the  walla  of  which  are  still  nearly  six  feet  high. 
This  appears  to  have  been  formerly  the  esplanade  in  front 
of  a  temple.  The  ai-ea  open  to  the  north  is  paved  with 
square  blocks  of  black  lava,  and  in  the  centre  is  a  hole 
leading  inio  a  cave,  whieh  we  were  not  tempted  to 
examine.  Amongst  the  heaps  of  rubbish  are  often  seen 
sculptured  blocks  oi'  lava  belonging  to  a  period  of  civilisa- 
tion anterior  to  the  Roman  conquest.  One  of  these  is  a 
fragment  of  the  jamb  or  mantel-tree  of  a  door  or  window- 
frame,  ornamented  with  mouldings  nnd  flower-work  at  the 
comer.  As  tlie  weight  of  this  relic  i»  not  excessive,  wc 
prevail  on  Nicholas  to  carry  it  instead  of  the  eggs,  the 
fowls,  and  the  bread,  of  which  we  have  lightened  him. 
The  honest  fellow  takes  tip  the  huge  stone  without  mur- 
miu'ing,  nnd  resumes  his  journey,  trotting  after  our 
lu^age,  which  he  must  overtake  as  lie  caji.  This  frag- 
ment of  Moabitic  sculpture  has  been  since  deposited  in 
tlie  LouiTe. 

We  liave  now  reached  twenty-seven  minutes  imst  two 
o'clock,  and  our  ScheikliB  m-e  more  importunate  in  their 
roinonstrancp.s  than  ever.  IVudence,  besides,  warns  us 
that  wo  have  no  time  to  lose.  Once  more  we  regain  our 
saddle-s,  deploring  the  necessity  which  compels  lus  to  pass 
so  rapidly  through  tlieae  curious  ruins,  and  when  we  start 
we  resume  our  journey  directly  southward.  The  ground 
upon  which  Er-Rabbali  stood,  forms  an  eminence  in  the 
shape  of  a  half-moon,  embracing,  towards  the  south,  a 
contracted  level  space,  being  a  kind  nf  promontory 
between   the  two  divisiona  of  the  town.      On  this  on- 


WSQ  ATBNIIB  OF  ffTOXSS. 


I 
I 


dofied  space,  which  we  cross  according  to  its  tixis,  that 
is,  from  north  to  Nouth,  the  naked  rock  is  almost  every* 
where  close  to  the  surface." 

Before  reaching  the  bottom  of  the  eminence,  we  descry 
to  our  left,  about  two  humlred  yards  distant  from  our 
road,  a  second  square  ruin,  which  seems  rather  impor- 
tant ;  tlien  again,  about  seven  hundred  yards  off.  and 
still  to  the  left,  a  thick  wall,  being  the  beginning  of  the 
left  horn  of  the  crescent  u|ion  whicli  the  town  was  built. 
This  horn  extends  a  few  hundred  yards  southward,  and 
bears  a  few  more  ruins,  <lispc!rsed  at  intervals. 

All  the  rising  ground,  stretching  like  a  curtain  to  our 
right,  continues  to  be  covered  with  fragments  of  buildings. 
Fiuully,  to  the  left  of  our  route,  as  soun  as  we  have 
reached  the  bottom  of  the  eminence,  or  rather  the  limit 
of  the  ancient  town,  an  avenue  of  stones  commences, 
stretching  out  far  in  advance.  Wo  fall  into  tliis  avenue 
by  thirty-eight  minutes  past  two,  at  a  spot  whore  two 
long  level  lines  of  the.'se  same  walls,  built  with  blocks  of 
IftYa,  dirided  from  eacli  other  by  a  space  of  one  hmidrcd 
yards,  intercept  perpendicularly  the  right-liand  side  ol 
the  avenue.  From  tlie  extremity  of  the  lower  wall, 
another  of  the  same  description,  and  of  equal  length, 
branches  off  in  a  northerly  direction.  Here  also  termi- 
nates tlie  left  horn  of  the  crescent  of  Br-Rabbah. 

As  soon  as  we  have  gained  the  plain  once  more,  we 
turn  to  the  soutb-south-west,  and  lose,  almost  immedi- 
ately, the  avenue  of  stones,  instead  of  which  we  encuuntor 
evident  signs  of  au  ancient  paved  road.     By  forty-one 


*  AnODKit  tht  niiuB  ot  RT'IUbliali  v  Unaut  InsiMiKB  quacllllu  of  h«wii 
laWDM,  mit  IWioi  A  laty  uonni*  mIimu-udus  rock,  ndsad  with  *bclli.  wliicb  bM 
•viilcBll]'  bcaii  ukuD  from  Uui  (poL 


A6i 


EXTRN^lVE    RatKtk 


minutes  past  tvo  we  pass  by  a  hillock,  eighty  yards  ulT. 
to  our  right,  crowned  with  ru1)bis]),  with  hd  avcnut*  of 
stoucs  Icadiug  up  to  it.  aii<l  branching  off  evidently  front 
the  ancient  road  we  aru  following,  lly  6(ly-one  minuteti 
past  two  the  plain  incUiie-H  downwards,  and  we  pass  tou 
yards  to  the  right  of  a  mound  strewed  with  niins,  to 
which  the  Arabs  can  assign  no  individual  name.  There 
we  fall  again  into  the  avenue  of  stones,  iaterniptcd  right 
and  left  by  walls,  forming  level  enclosures.  At  exactly 
three  o'clock  the  avenue  of  stones  we  are  following  turns 
south-south-east,  and  a  branch  shoots  off,  lliat  lo80S  itself 
in  the  distaaco  in  an  oast-south-east  direction.  Almost 
immediately  after  that,  the  priacipal  avenue  disappears, 
and  we  march  due  south,  for  some  minutes,  across  s  plain 
totally  devoid  of  ruins.  By  eight  minutes  past  three  the 
avenue  of  stones  appears  again,  and  preserves  a  southerly 
direction  ;  but  at  ten  minuter  past  three  we  turn  south- 
west, directly  acresii  the  avenue,  which  is  here  furntshed 
with  a  pavement  still  in  tolerable  repair. 

We  are  now  iti  sight,  twelve  hundred  yards  to  our  left, 
of  considerable  ruins,  the  name  of  which  I  cannot  gather 
from  our  Arabs.  By  a  quarter-paat  three  we  perceive, 
about  a  thousand  yards  in  advance,  and  to  the  right,  ou 
the  mde  of  a  hilt,  other  ruins  ecjually  exteiisirc,  and 
to  which  our  guides  are  also  unable  to  assign  a  name. 
By  twenty-two  minutes  past  three  our  road  inclines  to 
the  south-south-west,  nearing  ihe  hiJI  covered  witli  rains, 
which  we  have  been  gazing  on  for  several  minutes. 

Just  then  we  discover  issuing  from  the  ruins  five 
Bcdouius  on  horseback,  armed  with  lances,  and  riding 
towards  us  at  full  gallop.  Our  Schtnlchs  fbriii  themselves 
imniodiatcly  into  a  small  udvaucod  squadrun  ;  every  iiuui 


THE   SCHElStt   9B1.AMEH    AND   HIS   R9C0RT. 


seizes  his  gun,  and  we  marcli  iii  couipact  oitlcr  toworiiB 
the  spot  where  we  expect  to  meet  our npproac)iiiig  visitors. 
Hauidau,  Abuu-Daoiik,  aud  our  Heni-^Hkharfivcheikhs  halt 
to  receive  the  five  cavaliers  who  are  bearing  down  upon  as 
like  an  avalanche,  although  some  are  mounted  on  niai'68 
almost  reader  to  foal.  Salutatioua  arc  oxcliaiiged  ratlter 
coldly  and  with  an  ungracious  air  on  either  side,  as  we 
conic  up  to  join  in  the  interview.  The  chief  of  the  advanc- 
ing party  is  Scheikh  Selameh,  tlio  nephew  of  the  Scheikh 
of  Karak,  who  has  come  forward  with  several  of  his  friends 
to  meet  and  give  us  welcome.  For  the  last  three  da}*:* 
they  have  been  lying  in  wait  amongst  tJie  niins,  from 
which  they  have  just  issued  like  a  troop  of  jackals. 

We  feel  deeply  sensible  of  the  honour  these  gontlemon 
are  conferring  upon  us  ;  and  I  think  it  would  be  difficult 
to  select  elsewhere  a  more  choice  detaclimout  of  brigands, 
both  in  look  aud  expression.  The  Scheikh  Sehuneh  wears 
a  scarlet  robe  and  a  black  abaya,  both  of  them  worse  than 
threadbare.  He  has  a  long  face,  thin  iips,  a  sharp  nose, 
and  altogether  a  coarse,  brutal  appearance.  His  features 
have  beeu  fm-rowed  by  the  small-po.x,  which  has  also 
encircled  his  eyes  with  red.  Take  him  altogetlier,  he  is 
an  ugly  animal,  inspiring  us  with  very  little  confidence ; 
and  his  companions  are  not  much  better  favoured  than 
himscl£ 

I  approach  Selameh  with  a  Salam-aleikoum,  which  tJie 
impudent  vagabond  does  not  condescend  to  return,  though 
he  socma  to  be  mutteiing  something  ;  but  the  words  arc 
smothered  between  his  lips,  and  scarcely  sound  like  bene- 
dictions. Beyond  a  doubt,  wc  liavc  fallen  into  bad  com- 
pany ;  and  I  confess,  the  fact  of  my  salam  nut  being 
returned  makes  me  rather  uneasy  ;  hut  we  have  ilrawn 


304 


APraoACH   TO   KaRAK. 


the  cork,  anJ  muat  now  drink  the  wine  without  flinching. 
With  ft  motion  of  the  hand  Selameh  signs  to  us  to  pursue 
our  journey,  and  we  move  on  ratlior  chop-fallen,  behind 
him,  whispering  to  each  other  our  apprehensions  as  to  the 
adfenturos,  more  or  less  agreeable,  hkely  to  be  in  store  for 
US  at  Karak. 

Selameh  and  his  four  banditti  are  as  dumb  as  so  many 
fisli.  Abou-Daouk  maintains  his  erertasting  smile,  and 
om-  Beni-Sakhars  have  a^siumcd  a  proud  and  haughty 
demeanour  befitting  chieftams  of  importance ;  whilst 
Mohammed's  black  brow  lowers,  and  he  begins  cares- 
sing the  butt-end  of  his  musket.  As  to  Hamdan,  he  has 
turned  very  pule,  and  appears  oppressed  by  intense 
anxiety. 

By  twenty-two  minutes  past  three  we  have  resumed  our 
usual  line  of  march  ;  but,  scarcely  are  we  on  the  move 
iigain,  when  Schcikh  Selameh,  who  sees  Loyacl  lightmg  a 
pipe  for  his  own  use,  takes  it  out  of  his  hauds  without  the 
least  ceremony,  and  commences  smoking  it  himRelf 
"  The  devil !"  mutters  each  of  us  to  himself  (I  more  pro- 
foundly than  the  rest)  ;  "  this  familiarity  ia  anything  but 
agreeable  !"  We  have  thrust  ourselves  head-forcuiost  into 
a  hornet's  nest.  As  there  is  no  retreat,  we  ptit  on  a  good 
countenance ;  while  tlio  thought  of  probable  danger  re- 
assures onr  spirits,  which  had  wavered  for  a  moment.  We 
are  om-sclves  again,  and  enjoy  our  own  humour,  joking 
Loysel  on  tlie  unfortunate  rape  of  his  pipe.  Come 
what  may,  they  shall  not  pick  us  off  like  partridges ;  we 
therefore  summon  up  our  courage  and  put  our  trust  in 
Providence.  I  resume  my  gcograjihical  labours  with 
Kdward,  and  go  on  stuiiying  the  country,  which  is  as  burc 
aa  erer.    From  Scliihan  to  the  bank  of  the  Ouad-el- Karak, 


APPROACH   TO    KARAK. 


365 


is  not  a  tree  or  bush  to  be  seen.  By  twonty-two 
ininiik'S  past  three  wo  nirtrcli  south-south-west,  and  tho 
hill  wliich  wo  liad  un  Uil-  right  w  now  only  fifty  yards  from 
oiir  track.  By  thirty  minutes  past  three  we  perceive  some 
ruins  on  the  side  of  this  hill.  Soon  after  that,  several 
ill  mounds  rise  up  to  our  left.;  and  by  forty  minutes 
throo  wc  find  ourselves  on  the  ridge  of  a  descent 
leading  us.  in  three  niinutca  more,  to  the  bottom  of  a 
ravine  traversed  by  the  ancient  road,  which  wc  still  con- 
tinue following.  As  we  go  down,  we  observe  on  our  right 
some  old  walls  levelled  with  the  ground.  Having  reached 
the  bottom  of  the  ouad,  we  march  due  west.  This  ouad. 
wluch  wo  have  just  crossed  at  its  commencement,  runs  in 
a  north-north-west  direction  ;  we  reach  the  opposite  bank 
by  still  following  tho  ancient  road,  which,  bearing  at  first 
due  west,  inclines  afterwards  a  little  to  the  west-south- 
west The  a«cent  is  diffiaUt ;  flat  and  slippery  rocks  form 
the  steps  of  a  kind  of  giant's  staircase,  the  summit  of  which 
we  attain  by  fifty  minutes  pa.st  three.  To  our  right  wc 
are  bounded  by  tlie  edge  of  a  small  low  plain,  which  looks 
as  if  it  were  overhanging  a  deep  and  abrupt  valley.  To 
oar  left  is  a  hillock,  on  the  side  of  which  we  marcli,  until 
we  arrive  at  a  small  flat  eminence  ending  in  a  frightfid 
ravine,  opening  hkc  an  abyss  before  us.  This  ravine  is 
called  the  Onad-el-Karak, 

The  view  is  not  calculated  to  cheer  our  spirits ; 
a  more  convenient  haunt  for  brigands  could  nowhere 
be  selected  ;  such  at  least  is  our  first  impression,  whicll 
gather*  now  strength  fi-om  the  lowering  a.spect  of  the 
sky,  orersprea*!  with  grey,  melancholy-looking  clouds. 
Ih  Wg  have  to  descend  three  hundred  yards  of  almost 
H  perpendicular  rock,  aud  somewhat  more  to  mount  again 


mtmk 


»66 


HANUAN  S   WARNINQ   DIUtBOAKOED. 


on  the  other  (tide,  t)oforc  we  readi  the  horrible  Tulturc'i 
□cat  which  is  called  Karak. 

At  thi«  moment  Hsmdaii,  looking  quite  scored,  draws 
near,  and  whispers  in  my  ear :  "  Do  not  take  thy 
dwelling  in  the  town  ;  remain  at  the  bottom  of  the  valley, 
near  the  fountain  we  are  about  to  pass,  and  say  that  thou 
preferrest  encamping  in  this  spot,  on  account  of  the 
vicinity  of  the  water.  The  inhabitants  of  KaraJc  are 
abominable  robbers.  Allah  only  knows  what  will  happen  to 
ua  all,  if  once  thon  dost  consent  to  enter  into  their  town." 

Assuredly  there  was  nothing  very  encouraging  in  this 
warning  ;  but  still,  how  could  we  avoid  taking  a  tem- 
porary dwelling  in  the  town  without  letting  these  people 
suppose  that  we  were  afraid  of  them?  At  any  risk  we 
must  avoid  showing  the  itlightest  symptom  of  uneaaincss, 
if  wo  wish  to  moke  them  respect  or  fear  ua ;  and 
besides,  how  could  we  defend  or  extricate  ourselves, 
supposing  we  were  attacked  at  the  bottom  of  such  an 
abyss  *  Ten  pieces  of  rock  hurled  down  upon  us  from 
the  top,  during  the  tiight,  would  suffice  to  annihihtte 
and  pound  us  as  in  a  mortar  1  therefore  answered 
llamdan  briefly,  that  wc  had  como  to  visit  Karak ;  tliat 
wo  intended  to  stay  there  for  at  least  one  day  ;  and  that 
wo  should  as-tiircdly  fix  our  lodging  in  the  town  itself,  to 
show  that  we  were  above  all  fear  or  apprehension. 

"Ala  khatrak"  ("Do  as  tliou  pleasest")  answered 
Hamdau,  mildly,  with  a  sigh,  and  turned  away  from  me. 

I  have  just  stated  that  by  fifty^six  minutes  past  three 
we  had  reached  a  spot  front  whence  we  had  merely  to 
descend  to  reach  the  bottom  of  the  Duad-eUKarak.  To 
oar  left  opens  a  hollow  valley,  looking  southward,  and 
towards  the  bottom  of  which,  about  fifloen  hundred  yards 


PAS8A0R   or   THIS    RATlNK. 


867 


distant,  our  Arabs  point  out  a  niiii  callcci  EKBoue'ireh 
(tiie  small  cistern).  A  kind  of  narrow  cape,  down  which 
We  are  pamiug,  juts  out  into  tlui  Ouail-el-Kjirak,  and 
borders  the  entrance  of  the  ouad  where  El-Boueireh 
stands ;  this  is  the  first  break-neck  precipice  by  whicli  we 
avconiplisli  our  descent  tu  the  t)ottom  of  tlic  valley. 

We  reach  it,  safe  and  sound,  at  twcnty-thi'ee  minutes 
p^1st  four  o'clock.  Here,  a»  Ilamdan  had  informed  me, 
we  find  a  fountain,  and  two  grottoes  hewn  out  of  the 
rock  ;  most  likely  two  ancient  burial  cares.  As  night  is 
coming  on,  it  is  too  Ute  to  examine  them  beyond  a 
passing  glance,  as  we  ride  along.  Wo  have  now  before 
us 'the  goat  track  that,  is  to  take  us  to  the  level  of  the 
isolated  clitT,  rising  from  the  bottom  of  the  valley,  and  on 
the  summit  of  which  is  built  the  town  of  Karak. 

I  The  Scheikh  Selameh  does  not  afford  us  time  enough 
to  compliment  him  on  the  choice  roads  of  his  countrj-. 
He  urges  his  horse  up  tlio  steep,  and  wo  follow  his 
example,  taking  good  care  to  avoid  false  steps,  a  single 
one  of  which  would  bo  a  death-warrant.  This  perilous 
ascent  lasts  twelve  minutes,  during    which    we   clamber 

I  Dp  a  long  series  of  zig>zags,  so  close  to  each  other,  Umt 
every  horseman    has  constantly  above  him  the  belly  of 
the  horse  he  follows,  whilst  he  is  himself  cquaJly  raised 
above  the  heads  of  those  who  are  following  him.    Nothing 
but  a  miracle  saves  the  whole    party   from  vertigo.     If 
we  add  to  the  pleasures  of  this  path,  tlie  necessity  of 
[forcing  your  cliarger  to  clear  repeated  masses  of  slippery 
rock,  half  a  yard  high,  wo  perfectly  understand  how,  on 
[reaching  the  summit  of  this  infernal  cliff,  wo  brL-atlie  more 
freely,  and  feel  as  if  dchvored  from  a  hideous  nightmare. 
By  tliirty-five  minutea  past  four  n  final  turning  brings 


968 


TOVIH  OP   KARAK. 


ua  to  the  foot  of  a  square  tower,  twenty  yarils  high, 
defending  the  approaches  of  the  road  we  have  just 
ascended.  This  tower  occupies  one  of  the  salient  angles 
of  the  town  of  Karak  ;  from  its  side  branches  off  a 
wretched  enclosure  wall  turning  towards  the  south,  but  we 
proceed  along  auoUier  bruncli  iiicUiiiug  to  the  westward. 

The  whole  population  seem  in  a  fever  of  enthuaiasm  at 
our  visit,  and  anxious  to  receive  ua  with  all  honour  ;  for 
we  find  collected,  at  the  foot  of  the  enclosure  wall,  a  mob 
of  hideous  faces,  and  a  cordon  of  the  same  description 
lining  the  parapet  wall  above  us. 

Darkness  is  coming  on  apace,  and  after  a  few  minut«s 
we  enter  the  to\vn  through  a  breach  in  the  wall.  Wc 
proceed  through  heaps  of  infected  rubbish,  and  alight  in 
a  kind  of  cucloauro,  attached  to  a  sniall  stone  house, 
divided  from  another  stone  building  by  a  narrow  court- 
yard only  a  few  yards  wiile.  The  first  structure  is  tlid 
Christian  convent  of  Karak ;  the  second,  tlic  church 
belonging  to  tlie  convent.  Two  Greek  clergymen  reside 
in  this  dismal  abode,  and  wc  have  come  to  throw  ourselves 
on  their  hospitality. 

The  Scheikh  Selameh  has  disappeared,  n-ithout  our 
taking  any  notice  of  him.  He  carries  our  charitable 
wishes  wherever  he  may  have  gone  to.  and  none  of  us 
desire  to  .'«ee  him  again. 

There  are  in  Karak  several  hundreds  of  Christian 
Arabs ;  their  chiefs — and,  amongst  others,  a  iiiie  brave 
old  man,  called  Abd-Atlah-Sennn,  who  is  their  principal 
Scheikh— have  gathered  around  us,  armed  and  equipped. 
These  worthy  people  give  us  as  kind  a  reception  as 
they  can ;  they  take  our  offered  Itands,  and  kiss  tbem, 
repeating  over,  again  and  again,  that  we  are  welcome. 


RESIDBNCE   IN   THE  COSVENT. 


Sft9 


We  shall  find  amongst  them  our  natural  defenders,  in 
the  very  probable  circumstance  of  aa  attack  from  ttie 
Mussulman  population. 

As  soon  as  we  have  alighted,  we  clttiih  up  a  narrow 
stftircase  wjtliout  rails,  resting  against  the  wall  oppoiiite 
the  church,  which  leads  us  to  the  level  of  the  first-floor. 
This  is  tlic  usual  dwelling-place  of  the  two  Greek  monks, 
who  remove  their  trifling  effecta  as  rapidly  as  tlitiy  can 
from  a  square  room,  into  which  tUyUght  can  only  enter 
by  two  windows  without  panes  of  glass,  dosed  by 
wooden  shutters  I«dly  jointed  ;  so  that,  in  bad  weather, 
by  broad  daylight,  the  in-dwcllers  are  obliged  to  use 
candles.  Our  kitchen  is  disposed  in  a  lower  apart- 
meiit,  opcu  to  every  comer ;  whilst  our  caniij-cota 
are  set  out  in  the  square  room  offered  to  us  by  tlie  good 
monks,  and  there  we  are  in  the  trap.  Shall  we  escape 
from  it  with  all  onr  feathers  ?    The  chances  are  heavily 

JQst  us. 

No  sooner  are  wc  in  possesion  of  our  bed-room  than  it 
is  instantly  converted  into  a  reception  hall.  Some  twenty 
inliabitajits  of  the  place.  Christians  and  Mohammedans, 
force  their  way  in,  whether  we  will  or  no,  and  squat 
down  in  every  comer  witliout  tho  ceremony  of  asking 
leave.  As  their  number  increases  every  instant,  tltey 
stow  thentselves  in  as  closely  as  they  can.  leaving  us 
barely  suflicieut  space  for  ourselves.  No  doubt  this 
officious  attention  is  highly  flattering,  but  wc  could  readily 
dispense  with  it,  as  we  are  exhibiting  the  parts  of  wjld- 
bcaats  in  a  show.  The  monks,  to  oScr  us  a  cup  of  coflee, 
are  obliged  to  call  us  one  at  a  time,  and  In  succession,  out 
of  tlie  room,  and  take  us  into  a  small  nook  containing 
tlieir  bedding,  which  they  iiavo  removed  from  the  place 


m 


570 


APrRBHBNBIom)  OF   AN    AMBUSCADB. 


(hey  lin,ro  given  up  to  us,  and  piled  up  all  the  beds  one 
above  the  other. 

Matteo,  on  hia  part,  sci-vcs  up  cofl'cc  to  the  people  of 
di8Lin<'tion  amoug;st  our  visitors  ;  the  lower  gentry  must 
do  without  it  Afler  the  oofToo  comes  the  pipe  ;  sri'l  the 
Karakee  gi-andees  show  themselves  exceedingly  fond  of 
our  tolmcco.  What  they  usually  sniolcc,  in  the  aboenre  of 
the  real  tootuft.  is  a  coarse  compound  of  tJic  leaves  and 
stalk  of  I  know  not  wliat  stuff;  perhaps  the  Datura 
ttramonitim.  We  try  sonic  to  oblige  them ;  and  I 
declare  to  the  company  very  politely  on  the  part  of  my 
fnondli,  that  it  is  excellent,  whilst  wc  uiianimoualy  vote 
it  execrable. 

Stilt  wc  cannot  entertain  our  guests  for  ever :  hunger 
and  fatigue  make  us  anxious  to  obtain  a  little  less  honour 
and  a  little  more  solitude,  and  wo  succeed  at  last  in 
remaining  the  exchieive  possessors  of  onr  own  apartment 
Wo  immediately  lock  ourselves  in,  and  while  dinner  is 
preparing,  communicate  to  each  other  our  mutual 
impressions.  As  there  is  no  one  watching  iis  at  this 
tnomcnt,  we  express  our  opinions  freely  concerning  our 
prMoiit  poation.  Touching  unanimity !  We  are  all 
satisfied  that  we  shall  be  very  fortunate  if  wo  escape 
with  our  lives  and  a  whole  skin  from  the  renowned  city 
of  Karak, 

As  Boon  as  wo  have  finished  our  dinner,  we  throw 
ourselves,  without  imdrossing,  upon  our  carap-bcJs,  with 
our  complete  arsenal  loaded,  primed,  and  ready  for 
tuiion  at  a  moment's  notice. 


I 


CHAPTER  X. 


_  )Iahaaiai«l«1-l(idji«ll;,  tLc  SchelUi  ot  Kuak— J«a][>u*ta*  of  tli*  ilitTiimit  trilmt 
— loTuion  of  luiwulcuiiiM  pir'tj'— Tbp  Chriirtians  of  Kimk — Eiwninntiou  of 
the  city— Tow«r  of  Sultnn  Bcibwn— OmluitfmK  ioaitlu — Tlie  Cliii"*.iMi  HoheikU 
AM'AIUh — Exorbitant  dcmttnd  for  mf-posod  protection— I.o"'  itoto  of  cidio- 
quop— A  luftD  eontoictnl  ia  tli9  tliowrt— Maiiol  boi—IYfjimilionH  for 
drjitnuw— Owtlo  of  ItBDiiad  dc  CbAtlllon — Uor*  iuaulti  uvi  cxiortioc— A 
(UngvroiM  quBml — Em>|>«  from  tLs  tliietns  of  KAra^— Tli*  jourui^'  miiiinad 
— Eridfiicca  of  volcanio  agoncy — Riicaiiii<iiig  ^miiad  reiiflj«i1, 1'li  Ihc  bnnlu  of 
the  IKalirad-DidB — PrognoBlJai  of  nin. 

Januari/   IBM. 

As  regards  thia  night,  all  our  apprchonsiona  proved 
nnfoundcd.  Wo  liavo  slept  a.']  tguictly  as  possible,  not^ 
withstanding  the  war  of  extermination  waged  against  us 
by  the  insatiable  vermin.  The  weatiicr,  which  has  been 
Ferjf  BOToro,  has  cleared  up  a  little.  The  wind  is  Htill 
blowing  with  violence,  but  the  rainy  squaUa  have  dis- 
continued for  the  moment,  and  we  suffer  intensely  from 
tlte  cold.  Having  just  left  the  shores  of  the  Dead  Sea, 
we  are  not  inured  to  the  rude  tcmpcraturo  of  the 
high  plains,  and  we  pass  oui'  time  ui  shivering  and 
complaining. 

This  morning,  I  Iiavc  deemed  it  prudent  to  open 
negotiations  with  the  Scheikh  of  Karak,  and  to  beat 
the  ground  bo  aa  to  asc^crtain  what  treatment  we  arc 
to  expect.  Hamdan  and  Matteo,  especially  tlie  latter,  are 
our  plenipotentiaries.  I  had  brought  a  letter  from  the 
Pacha    of  Jerusalem,  for    the    Scheikh    Mohammedel- 


372 


SCHEIKII    UailAUHED    RL-MII)J1EI.I.T. 


Mi<1jielly,   and    1    entnist    XIatteo    with    tlie    care    of 
delu'eriiig  it  to  him,  niul  Joiiaudiiig  hiit  protection. 

Matt«o  meets  wiib  a  rer^  rude  reception.  Mi^ijiellj^ 
k  furious  because  we  have  talcen  up  our  qttartcrs  in  the 
Greek  couTcnt ;  and  still  more  so,  tliat  we  have  been 
well  received  by  the  Christiiuis  of  Karak.  As  to  the 
Pacha's  letter,  he  has  no  leisure  for  reading  mesaagee 
of  that  kind.  "  Carry  it  to  Abd-AIlah,"  says  ho  to 
Mstteo,  "  since  I  am  no  longer  Scheikh  in  my  own 
govcnunent,  and  since  he  is  the  man  to  whom  strangcn 
apply  in  the  first  instanoe,  when  ihey  come  to  visit  the 
country  wherein  I  command."  Matteo  employs  all  t]ie 
di]>loniatic  skill  lie  can  master,  to  appease  (his  fcrocioiB 
little  autocrat.  Very  probably  he  hints  something  about 
presents  in  perspective  I  for  Miiljietly  repUcs  that  hd 
wants  nothing  from  us ;  that  he  does  not  seO  hia 
protection  :  and  that  if  I  give  him  a  lon/fA  (a  pipc-lwwl), 
as  a  keepsake  and  rcnienibniiicc  of  my  passing  visit,  he 
will  aak  no  uioro  ;  that  I  may  remain  in  Karak  ten  days, 
a  fortnight,  a  month,  if  I  choose  ;  inspect  at  my  leisure 
all  the  remnants  of  antiquity  scattered  through  the 
country,  afld  that  I  liave  nothing  to  fear. 

Stalteo  liastens  back  to  us,  bursting  with  intelligence, 
to  report  this  magnanimous  answer  ;  on  which,  I  confess, 
I  place  very  little  reliance.  Hamdan,  who  is  present, 
is  equally  suspicious  of  the  good  faith  of  Jfidjielly ; 
ovitlently  he  considers  him,  for  choice,  the  suiiiplo  knave 
of  the  country. 

At  this  momont  we  receive  news  which  is  not  hkely 
to  increase  our  confidence.  Our  Beni-Sakhars  are  enraged, 
because  the  people  of  the  bazaar,  by  order  of  the  Scheikh, 
refuse  to  spII   them   meal   for  thomselvcs  and  barley  for 


JEALOUSIES  OF  THE  TRIBES. 


srs 


their  liorses.  At  the  same  time  the  Scheikh  Molianinied 
re()ucsts  me  to  send  them  away,  saying  that  it  would  be 
injurious  to  his  houour  wcro  I  to  rcniain  in  his  lowu, 
under  any  other  protection  than  his  own.  At  first,  1  am 
siii)pl«  enough  to  fuid  thiij  5CU8ilivenc»s  rather  natural. 
And  am  almost  incUned  to  comply  with  his  retjnest,  when 
Mattoo  tells  me,  in  Italian,  to  beware  of  doing  so,  and  to 
refuse  most  positively,  thougli  T  may  qualify  my  i-cfusal  as 
politely  as  I  please.  Instinctively  Kdward  adopts  the 
same  opinion  ;  therefore,  I  return  for  answer  to  Midjiclly 
that  I  have  swoni  before  Allah  not  to  pay  the  Beni- 
bar  Scheikhs  until  I  return  to  their  cncjimpment; 
that  I  have  had  every  reason  to  he  satisfied  with  their 
son-ices  and  their  fidelity,  and  that  since  they  have 
religiously  kept  their  word,  I  cannot,  without  proving 
—^  myself  a  recreant,  fail  to  keep  mine  :  that  1  repose  the 
I  most  complete  reliance  on  the  word  of  tlio  Scheikh 
Mohammed  ;   that  I  am  completely  under  his  exclusive 

I  protection,  since  I  liare  placed  myself  within  the  walls 
of  his  town,  and  that  consc<)uently  ho  has  no  cau^c  to  be 
incensed  at  such  a  trifle.     I  request  at  the  same  time  that 
I  he  will  be  pleased  to  give  the  necessary  orders  to  enable 
all  my  people  to  purchase  sucli  provisions  as  they  may 
require  for  themselves  and  their  beasts. 
All    this    is   said    in   presence    of  a  band   of  ai'mod 
banditti,  who  have  iuvaded  our  premises  ever  gince  the 
_^  morning,  and  who  are  making  themsetves  at  homo,  with 
■  the  careless  familiarity  of  gaolers  who  are  keeping  guard 
over  their  prisoners.     As  soon  as  I  have  despatched  my 
.  refusal,  Matteo  tells  me,  htiU    in   Italian  as  a  matter  of 
course,    that    the  presence  of  the  Beni-Sakhar  Scheikhs 
'  is  exceedingly    irksome   to   Midjiclly,  as   checking   tlio 


874 


mvAstoK  or  uuksth. 


Bchemes  he  is  contriving  against  us.  The  brigand  "knowi 
fill]  well,  that  if  he  was  to  »lo  us  any  roiacliicf,  ho  would 
bring  dovm  upon  himself  the  whole  tribe,  nnd  that  ho 
would  then  assuredly  be  starved  to  death  in  his  den,  he 
and  his  band  of  robbei-s,  without  the  itlightest  hope  of 
escape.  His  asking  us  to  dismiss  our  fi-iends  was  a  skilful 
move,  n*.  if  we  had  complied,  we  should  have  given  such 
ofTenco  lo  the  Bcni-Sakhars,  tliat  they  would  have  left  u« 
to  filiift  for  ourselves,  aud  get  out  of  the  scrape  as  well 
vro  might. 

Fortunately,  Hamdan  and  Matteo  are  as  cunning  as 
ilidjiclly,  and,  with  their  Arab  instinct,  hare  ponotratod 
and  baffled  his  design.  All  this  has  an  unfavourable 
aspect,  and  wo  arc  beginning  to  gut  tired  of  the  incon- 
venient, impertinent  surveillance  to  which  we  have  bo(»] 
subjected  tunco  djiybroak.  My  dint  of  loud  and  angry 
e.tpostulations  we  succeed  once  more  in  obtaining  cxclu- 
sive  posscsNion  of  our  own  room,  for  time  sufficient  to 
take  our  breakfast.  We  have  just  drank  our  colleo,  and 
are  smoking  our  chibouks  in  tolerable  quiet,  when  a 
tremendous  noise  is  suddenly  heard  at  the  door,  at  which 
people  are  striking  with  a  tone  of  authority.  We  opco. 
and  in  rushes  a  host  of  tbu  most  ill-lnoking  varlets  that 
can  be  imagined,  led  by  Mohammed -el-iMidjielly  in 
person,  his  worthy  nephew,  the  Scheikh  Sclameh,  and 
another  shabby-looking  fellow,  Scheikh  Khalil,  ilidjielly's 
own  brother.  These  are  the  tlirec  living  ropresenlativu 
of  the  illustrious  family  of  the  Schoikhs  of  luirak,  a 
family  which  Ims  supplied  in  its  different  branches  a  rich 
harvest  for  the  gallows  and  the  scaffold,  under  the  Turkish 
and  Egyptian  sovereignties, 

Midjielly  is  a  very  little  man,  wearing  with  the  dignity 


DRSCBIPTION   OF  8CHEIKII    MirWlKLLY. 


8T5 


I 


^ 


at  a  sovereign  prince,  the  tattered  garb  of  a  Bedouin 
Scheikh,  the  scarlet  robe,  the  black  abaya,  aud  the  varie- 
gated kafieh.  Jle  carries,  in  addition,  a  Turkish  sabre 
by  Ilia  side.  His  featui-cs  are  perfectly  regular,  hia  cyea 
quick  and  pierciDg,  but  tlieir  expression  is  treacherous, 
distrustful,  and  malicious  beyond  measure ;  the  nose  in 
straight  and  well  formed,  the  lips  tliin,  an<I  singularly 
white.  A  short  black  beard,  sprucely  trinuued,  is  set 
aa  a  frame  around  the  hanih^ome  face  of  tliis  in<lividual, 
in  whuse  presence  you  feel  uneasy,  because  you  can  trace 
in  his  features  no  aspect  of  sincerity,  but  rather  that  of 
systcmatie  duplicity,  under  etery  word  aud  movement. 
The  hands  aud  feet  of  Midjielly  are  of  the  most  exquisite 
delicacy,  and  as  his  limbs  are  in  constant  motion  nhilst 
speaking,  we  have  full  leisure  and  opportunity  to  ad- 
mire the  elegant  proportions  of  this  ragged  specimen  of 
majesty. 

Sclieikh  Selameh,  with  whom  we  have  had  the  honour 
of  becoming  acquainted  since  yesterday,  is,  as  1  have 
said  already,  a  com])leto  model  of  sensual  brutality.  lie 
has  the  loak  and  <lemeaiiour  of  a  galley  slave.  Schcikh 
Klialil,  ou  ihe  contrary,  is  a  fine  handsome  fellow,  taller 
and  more  el^antly  made  than  Mohammed,  lie  seems, 
however,  to  be  thrust  completely  into  the  hackgroimd, 
probably  because  he  cannot  equal  in  rascality  his  illus- 
trious brother,  and  no  less  distinguiiilied  nephew  SelHUieh. 

The  three  ScUcikhs  seat  themselves  witliout  ceremony 
upon  om'  camp-beds ;  all  the  gentlemen  of  their  suite 
following  the  example.  Some  of  the  beds  break  down 
under  the  unusual  weight,  and  all  receive  liberal  <:Qntribu- 
tious  of  the  domestic  intimates  by  whom  these  gentlemen 
are  invariably  attended. 


87 1! 


THK   UllKlSTUNR   OF   KAB.IK. 


MUed  with  the  crowd.  1  see  the  Schcikh  Abd-Allab^ 
his  son,  and  the  other  Chrisliaus  who,  the  eveuiiig  before, 
liavc  welcomed  aiid  visited  us  »t  the  convent.  Their 
prcscuce  gives  me  confidence.  Suppoaing  that  our  con- 
versatiou  should  take  a  serious  turn,  no  Tcry  unlikely 
erent,  we  hiive  here  friends  on  the  spot,  who  would  asnat 
us,  and  eoahlc  us  at  least  to  sell  our  lives  dcurljr. 

Mohammed  siaircely  speaks,  and  only  utters  now  and 
then  a  tew  wordts  widi  a  haughty  and  disdainful  air. 
Coffee  and  pipes  ai-e  brought  in ;  but  every  one  looks 
mLstrustfully  on  his  neighbour,  as  if  doubtful  and  ausious 
as  to  what  will  follow  next. 

After  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  which  seems  a  century. 
Midjiclly  rises,  and  invites  us  to  accompany  him.  lie 
proposes  to  do  llic  honours  of  his  town,  and  exhibit  to 
us  its  luoimmenti).  In  a  twinkling  we  are  on  our  le^ 
cramming  our  waistbands  and  pockets  with  pistols,  under 
the  very  beards  of  the  cotivucation.  We  tJien  start  ou 
our  exploring  tour,  leaving  Pliilipi)e  and  Iiouis  to  guard 
the  camp,  with  orders  to  keep  a  strict  watch,  and  to  drive 
hack,  at  any  liaitard,  the  intruders,  who,  tempted  by 
the  desire  of  stealing  our  arms,  might  wander  iu  that 
direction  during  our  altsence. 

1  forgot  to  say  that  during  the  conversation  Midjielly 
inquired  if  1  had  a  telescope.  I  answered  him  that  t 
had.  Xi)itnediHtcIy  he  asked  me  to  let  him  see  it ;  and, 
after  having  tried  it,  he  made  a  poUtc  grimace,  saying : 
*'l  have  a  better  one  than  that."  We  were  next  obliged 
to  show  him  all  our  anus,  guns  and  pistols,  single  and 
double.  This  time  ho  could  not  boast  of  having  something 
better,  and  he  looked,  wttli  an  air  of  desperate  covetous- 
uces,  at  our  double-barrelled  rifles,  and  at  our  four  and 


i 


EXAMINATION  OP  THE  CITT. 


eight-barrel  Icti  pistols.       Tlicso   last   inspired   liiiii  with 

intense   admiratiou.     We    took    the   hint,  and  forthwitb 

onmmrntci)    our    waistbands    with    an   ailditioiiai   hruce 

before   commonciiij;    the   lanible  so  politely  suggealcd 

to  iw. 

f      We  huve  issued   from   our  prison,  threading  muddy 

lanes   filJed    with    every    possible    description  of   filth, 

■  scrambling   incessantly  over  heaps  of  rubbish,   remains 

of  buihlings  crushed  down  by  Ibrahim  Pacha's  artillery, 

'and  followed  by  a  host  of  armed  mun  who  accompany 

Hus,  as  if  we  were  captives  iii  close  custody.     At  every 

Bstep,  vords  of  abuse  strike  upon  our  oars  ;  we  adopt  the 

Hwiser  plan,  and  preleod  not  to  understand  them. 

H     Having  traversed  tlie   whole   extent  of  the  town,  we 

^'rcach  the  westenr  point  of  the  rock,  on  the  summit  of 

which  Karak  is  built,  and  find  our»elvcs  in  front  of  lU) 

immense  tower,  forming  a  demi-parallelogram,  and  com- 

Imanding  tlte  only  road  by  whicli  it  is  practicable  to 
descend  from  Karak  to  the  Rhiir-Safieh  ;  that  is  to  say, 
to  the  southern  point  of  the  Dead  Sea.  An  interior 
gallery,  with  iivc  ogival  ojienings,  encircles  the  tower 
at  the  level  of  the  first  floor.  The  entrance  is  by  a 
gate  in  tJie  posterior  face  of  the  smaller  side  on  the  right 
of  the  building,  A  long  and  very  line  Arabic  inacripUou, 
H  flanked  by  two  rampant  lions,  similar  to  those  tliat  arc 
aeen  on  the  Egyptian  coins  of  the  Mameluke  Hultan,  EI- 
Malek-ed-Dhaher-Btiibars  (who  reigned  fi-om  1260  to 
1277),  appears  below  tJie  gallery.  I  read  a  part  of  it 
in  presence  of  Midjielly  and  bis  courtiers,  who,  to  a 
[certainty,  arc  quite  incapable  of  understanding  a  single 
I'word.  1  know  not  if  they  are  astonished  at  my  learning  ; 
fbut  be  thai  a-iit  may,  they  give  no  external  e.vpn»iKion  to 


878 


TOWBB  OF  6UlJtAV    BKIBAH5. 


their  astonisbnieDt,  bejoDd  smiles  and  the  atteution  wii 
which  they  listen  to  niy  expouiuling. 

I  Ilivc  a  great  desire  to  copj  this  monumental 
iuscriptiOQ.  but  I  am  not  master  of  my  actions  at  present, 
oud  am  soon  told  to  leave  the  place.  NcvertJicloss  1  har« 
obtained  the  information  I  most  desired,  namely,  that 
this  military  structure  vKt  built  by  Belbars,  between  1260 
and  1277,  and  this  approximate  date  must  satisfy  me. 
since  I  cannot  gel  the  precise  onu,  which  a  copy  of  the 
ioscriptioa  itself  would  have  most  certainly  given  me ; 
that  copy,  howerer,  would  have  been  difficult,  owiog  la 
Iho  height  at  which  the  tablet  is  placed. 

From  thence  Widjiully  takes  us  to  a  small  cistern,  hcwu 
out  of  the  rock,  closo  to  iho  tower  which  we  hare  just 
visited  :  then  to  a  tunnel,  which  serves  as  eitti-auco  to  the 
town,  and  makes  an  angle  within  the  rock,  so  as  to  issue 
upon  the  road  that  leads  down  to  the  Dead  Sea,  and 
which  road  ia  commanded  by  the  tower  of  Beibars.  Tha 
rook  is  n  very  compact  calcareous  chalk,  ijitorsected  by 
well  defined  layers  of  dark  brown  flint.  At  the  spot 
where  the  tunnel  makes  the  angle,  the  vaulted  roof 
is  pierced  by  a  shall,  intended  to  give  light ;  but 
this  pniisage  is  not  kept  in  better  order  than  alt  tlie 
other  lanes,  being  equally  encumbered  with  stones  and 
filth. 

Aboro  tho  exterior  gate,  formed  of  solid  masonry, 
another  Arabic  inscription,  almost  unintelligible,  and 
much  defaced  by  having  been  pelted  with  stones,  is  let 
into  tho  wall.  Whilst  I  am  blundering  iu  my  attempt  to 
decipher  the  half-erased  cliaracteni,  Mi<ljifiiy,  who  haa 
paused  to  give  my  science  a  second  trial,  finds,  j)robably, 
tlutt  I  do  not  read  lost  enough,  for  he  compels  mu  ouce 


I 
I 

i 


AMCIBPTT  01STEHK. 


379 


I 
I 


more  to  quit  the  )>remises,  aud  conducts  me  Lock  into 
Karak  Ijj  the  oiitne  tunnel. 

Ho  tticii  leads  ilic  way  to  a  very  large  ruiued  cistcru, 
encumbered  with  licnu  stones ;  this  seems  to  me  much 
more  ancient  than  anything  I  have  sueti  as  yet  in  the 

ilics  of  this  town.  Here,  again,  in  the  midst  of  the 
rubbish,  is  an  Arabic  inscription,  quito  as  ille^ble  as  that 
over  the  gate,  and  whicli  it  would  require  much  leisure 
pcrscveriuice  to  decipher.     IJut  liuw  is  it  [wsslble  to 

[▼e  attcutiou  to  these  uiuttcrs,  when  you  aro  jostled, 
pestered,  and  insulted  ?  I  use  tliis  last  word  in  its  full 
meaning  ;  for,  as  1  am  stooping  to  examine  ihia  iuiicrip- 
tion,  one  of  the  vile  brigands  escortitig  us,  having  got  on 
the  lop  of  the  cistern  wall,  spits  down  ujiou  mo.  My 
friends  have  seen  (he  outrage,  and  give  me  instant 
warning,  f  am  sorely  temptcil  to  pay  him  with  a  bullet, 
but  just  as  I  am  yieUUng  to  my  indignation,  I  reflect  that 
Micli  in  precisely  the  object  tlieso  people  are  aiming  at ; 
aud  that  I  shall  bring  down  immediate  and  ccitiuu  death 
upon  my  brave  companions,  who,  through  their  con- 
fidence ill  mc,  have  venture<l  into  this  den  of  cut-ttu'aata. 
I  feel  that  the  greatest  proof  of  course  I  can  exhibit  is 
to  pass  by  the  insult  with  contempt,  and  only  express  my 
resentment  by  saying  to  Midjieliy  that  the  protection 
which  ho  has  promised  me  is  not  worth  much,  since  it 
cannot  even  prevent  the  men  under  his  command  from 
spitting  upon  hia  guoHts.  MidjiuUy  replies,  cliuckling 
with  a  malicious  and  treacheroufi  air,  "  Oh  I  it  is  nothing ; 
■we  must  not  mind  the  follies  of  children  !" 

It  may  easily  be  supposed  that  from  this  moment  I  am 
sick  of  the  ramble ;  1  aimouuc«  to  the  Scheikh  that  T 
wish  to  return  to  the  convent,  and  he  accordingly  leaiUt 


MO 


MOOS   INTRUDEiea 


nie  back.  On  our  way  he  briugs  me  round  by  the  walla 
of  a  miucd  mosque,  the  door  of  which  is  sarmounted  bj 
an  Arabic  inscription,  well  preserved  ;  but  I  ani  no  longer 
Bcientilicnlly  disposed.  Besides  it  begins  to  rain  sinartljr 
at  this  moment,  which  drives  us  under  corcr  as  fast  as 
possible. 

During  this  agreeable  promenade  I  hare  picked  op 
here  and  there  geoli^cal  specimens — ^somc  fri^rnenta  of 
auctont  pottery,  similar  to  those  1  found  near  the  Redjotn- 
el-Aabed,  and  a  small  cube  of  gloss,  which  ba&  ccrtainlji 
formed  a  portion  of  a  Roman  mosaic. 

The  8chGikh  Khalil  Itas  letl  us  ou  the  way ;  bat 
&Iuhni»med  aud  Selameli  are  not  inclined  so  soon  to  lose 
sight  of  tliBir  prey.  They  return  with  us  to  tbo  convent, 
and  once  more  our  apartment  is  invaded  by  the  friendly 
visitors  into  whoHC  clutches  wc  have  tlirown  Tturselres  bo 
imprudently.  The  two  Scheikhs  sit  down  carelcsKly  upon 
Philippe's  bed,  which  immediately  gives  way  under  tliem. 
As  these  gentlemen  have  sharpened  their  appetit**  by 
their  airing,  they  order  in  something  to  cat,  as  familiarly 
as  if  they  were  at  home,  and  a  large  omelet  is  immediately 
set  before  them.  They  divide  it  with  their  fingers,  adding 
the  accompaniment  of  a  huge  lump  of  bread.  After 
having  taken  coSce,  and  a  pipe,  they  leave  us,  and 
allow  UH  a  little  breathing  time,  to  prcgmro  ourselvec 
for  the  vexatious  of  the  evening,  for  they  promise  to 
repeat  their  visit  an  hour  after  our  dinner. 

Scarcely  have  they  left  the  room,  when  Maltco  intro- 
duces to  our  presence  a  tall  stnijiping  fellow,  dressed 
in  a  scarlet  robe  of  distinction,  who  hris  a  particular  wish 
to  speak  with  us.  As  soon  as  he  has  entered,  and  the 
door  is  closed  behind  him,  hu  tells  us  iliat  Midjielly  is  au 


I 


TEE   SCHKIKH    ABI>-ALt.An. 


38  L 


iinptulent  puppy,  tliat  he  has  wncd  us  shnbbity,  and  tliat 
if  vfu  choose  to  ho  revengcJ,  ho  (the  now  comor  himself) 
is  ready  to  assist  ils  with  all  his  people.  Is  tliis  nuui 
really  an  enemy  of  Midjielly,  or  is  it  a  decoy  of  the  latter 
gentleman,  to  lead  us  into  a  new  trap  ?  As  1  am  very 
much  inclined  to  suspect  thin,  I  diplomatise  in  my  turn, 
and  tell  the  intruder  that  if  Midjielly  has  given  himaclf 
airs  at  first,  he  has  since  appeared  to  assume  in  reality  the 
character  of  our  protector  in  Karak  :  tluit  consequently  I 
have  DO  hostile  feelings  towards  him,  and  that  I  intend 
starting  as  soon  as  posaiblo  on  my  return  to  Jerusalem, 
fc  without  intermeddling  with  anybody's  quarrelB.  Upon 
that  our  visitor  left  ns.  As  there  were  crowils  of  Arabs 
squattiug  round  our  door,  within  hearing  of  every  word 
that  was  said  in  tlie  room,  if  the  Scheikh  just  mentioned 
vas  not  an  .  eraissai-y  of  that  crafty  knave,  Midjielly,  he 
profited  little  by  his  interference  ;  at  any  rate,  we  saw  no 
lOre  of  him. 
The  remainder  of  the  day  weai-s  away  slowly  enough 
I'whilst  we  employ  ourselves  in  philosophising  on  our  pre- 
Betit  position.  How  to  get  out  of  the  scrape  witlioiit 
[damage  becomes  hourly  a  more  intricate  problem,  which 
we  endeavour  to  solve  without  success.  We  keep  up  our 
spirits,  notwithstanding  ;  laugh,  jest,  and  amuse  ourselves 
usual,  whenever  we  arc  left  alone. 
Before  dinner,  the  Scheikh  Abd-Allah  came  to  pay  us 
short  visit,  ami  as  wo  were  jiut  then  in  high  good  humour, 
|tvc  entertained  him  with  the  performance  of  a  musical- 
)x,  which  he  listened  to  with  profound  admiration.  I 
told  him  tliere  waa  a  little  animal  Hhut  up  in  the  box.  and 
that  it  wa.**  this  creature  who  produced  the  music.  Abd- 
>li  swallowed  the  information  eagerly,  and,  no  doubt, 


382 


HTPOCRITICAI.   VIHIT8. 


on  toaring  iis,  hurriei]  to  display  Lis  8ii|>erior  knowledge 
to  all  \m  fi-icn<U  atul  acqnaintAnces,  telling  them  how  the 
Foringliccs  confine  little  insocts  in  boxes  to  make  tliem 
sing,  with  no  more  trouble  than  tickling  their  tails  vrith  a 
fiinall  piece  of  iron.     Such  wiu  iudood  the  only  cxphutation  M 
I  bad  been  able  to  give  him  ;  any  other  wonld  have  been 
quite   iucomprchctiaible.     Besides,   as  he   was    naturally 
intelligent,  ho  had  arrived,  of  hU  own  accord,  at  something     , 
like  the  name  coucluston.    Thcrca<lcr  will  sco,  by-and-bj,  I 
that  Providence  had  again  inspired  us,  and  that  the  httJe 
concert  to  which  wc  had  treated  Abil-Allali,  a&Histed  in  the 
end  in  extricating  us  from  a  troublesome  dilemma. 

Dinner  being  over,  wc  wait  in  expectation  of  the  pro- 
mised visit;  I  may  oveo  say,  wc  are  impatient  for  it,  since 
our  fate  evidently  depends  on  the  result.  Either  we  alial) 
bo  at  liberty  to  depart  to-morrow,  or  wo  niuKt  remain  io 
Midjieily's  clutches,  and  then  Heaven  only  knows  what 
will  become  of  us. 

The  honest  Scheikh  of  Karak  exhibits,  in  this  instance, 
the  punctilious  ceremony  of  a  king,  uulcsa  wo  may  prefer 
calling  it  the  vigilance  of  a  bailiff.  The  hour  of  payment 
has  duly  struck,  we  must  be  ready  with  our  contributions, 
and  iMidjielly  is  too  polite  to  keep  us  waiting.  He  enters 
accordingly,  looking  colder  and  more  important  than  ever, 
attended  by  his  honourable  nephew  Sclamoh.  llamdaB 
and  Mattco  are  the  only  otliers  present,  all  the  Bedouins 
having  received  firom  the  Scheikh  his  gracious  pemiiasi<» 
to  go  about  their  business. 

Coffee  and  pipes  being  despatched,  wo  prtK-oed  to  biisi- 
ucss,  which  I  open  with  a  display  of  all  the  Arabic  1  can 
muster,  in  the  hope  of  producing  an  effect. 

1  fancy  I  am  making  a  masterly  move,  by  treating 


I 


DIPPICOLT   BBGOTIATI0H8. 


3ft5 


i 


Ul 


nil 

Ml 

r 


serionsly.  the  luagnanimoua  answer  of  t!ic  morning  with 
jcgard  to  tlie  presents  liinte<l  at  by  Matteo,  and  I  take 
ftdrantago  of  t)ie  Inuleh  (souvenir)  that  lia^  been  asked  for, 
to  extol  the  generosity  of  the  j)owei'ful  Schcikh  who  lias  so 
kindly  received  ufi  into  hin  town.  Of  course,  I  omit  all 
allusion  to  the  pracUctil  joke  passed  upon  nic  in  his  noblu 
coin{tany.  Afler  having  said  all  this,  I  add  that  people 
like  »3,  Frenchmen,  cannot  allow  anybody  to  take  the 
lea<l,  or  set  ihcm  examples  in  magnanimity  or  liberality  ; 
that  such  a  Uiing  would  make  ii»  all  seriously  Ul.  kc.  &e. 
Id  short,  afler  uiueli  preliminary  eloquence,  I  come  to 
c  point.  I  take  my  don  hie -barrelled  gun.  a  splendid  one 
"of  the  Corsicnn  VoltigL'urs  ;  I  cock  and  uncock  it,  and 
announce  to  the  Schcikh  that  it  is  imqueationably  the  first 
voapon  of  tlte  kind  in  the  world.  In  this  assertion  I 
scarcely  exceeded  the  truth  ;  although  I  did  in  the  exor- 
bitant price  at  which  1  rated  it,  to  increase  the  value  in 
Uie  eyes  of  MidjicUy.  After  the  gun,  1  exhibit  a  pair  of 
good  cavalry  pistols,  upon  which  I  larish  the  same  enco- 
iums  a«  to  cost  and  quality-  This  done,  "  to  thee,"  I 
y,  "Scheikh  Mnhammed-el-31idjielly,  I  give  thi«  nmg- 
nificont  fusil,  as  a  remembrance  of  my  visit  to  thy  country, 
and  a.s  a  token  of  my  tender  friendfihip.  To  thee,  8choikb 
Selamdi,  thiJi  \w  less  magnificent  pair  of  pistols." 

J  had  thus,  without  intending  it,  plunged  into  a  worse 
dilemma  than  ever.  My  speech  ended,  I  examine  the 
oountcnanoea  of  my  hearers,  and,  first  of  a)),  those  of 
Ilamdan  and  JIattco.  Uamdan,  in  particular,  looks  the 
picture  of  discontent  and  despair.  Mi<ijieUy  and  his 
nephew  express  their  high  Kense  of  my  generosity,  by 
iitcreased  coldness  and  inwolonce  of  deportment. 

I  feel  wnicwliat  confounded,  waiting  for  what  is  to  come 


I 


dsi 


EXOHBITAKT   mCMAUD  07   MOKET. 


i 


next,  when  Mattco  whisper?  me  in  Ttalian  :  "  Tou  Kstb 
made  a  pretty  piece  of  work  of  it ;  you  have  now  gel  into 
the  mire  too  deeply  to  extricate  yourself  I "  This  ill-tiiaed 
remark,  and  perhaps  al»o  a  tittle  of  the  ill-temper  of  an 
author  whn»c  pieco  has  bccu  hissed,  drives  mc  bejonil  all 
patience  ;  I  change  my  tone,  talk  louder,  and  am  not  quite 
sure  that  I  do  not  even  swear  a  little,  telling  Mntteo  to 
demand  at  once,  and  ^thout  circumlocution,  what  more  _ 
these  thieveH  pretend  to  exact  from  ua.  | 

Thereupon,  a  cabinet  council,  in  n  suppressed  tone,  is 
held  between  the  two  brigands  and  our  plenipotentiaries, 
wliich  ends  by  the  demand  in  hard  cash,  of  the  price  of 
the  weapons  I  had  offered  to  the  uncle  and  nephew,  and 
which  they  suspect  to  be  even  of  higher  value  tlian  I  chose 
to  acknowledge.  As  the  request  seems  to  me  of  cqiurocal 
delicacy,  I  try  to  follow  the  maxim,  "  if  you  have  to  deal 
with  a  pirate,  be  a  pirate  and  a  halfl"  and  therefore 
depreciate  as  nmch  as  1  can  the  standard  of  my  rejected 
presents,  offering  iti  exchange  fiflcen  hundred  piastres; 
upon  which  Midjielly  laughs  in  my  face,  and  gives  a  point- 
blnnk  refusal. 

A  second  council  then  takes  place,  in  a  lower  whi^ier 
than  the  first,  and  lasting  much  longitT.  At  Icngtli  the 
tiltiniatniu  is  delivered  ;  they  must  have  two  thousand 
piastres,  be^tideit  three  abayaa,  three  kafiehs,  and  three 
pairs  of  boots.  As  I  knew  by  experience  that  not  to  take 
Arabs  at  their  word,  in  negotiations  of  this  kind,  is  to 
expose  ourseh'cs  to  perpetually  increaung  exactions,  I 
Iiaaten  to  comply  at  once.  I  think  I  have  reached  tli* 
end  of  my  troubles,  wlien  Ulidjiclly  suddenly  remembers 
that  he  has  a  dearly  beloved  brother  to  whom  he  wislies 
to  make  a  small  pr&ient  at  our  expense.     He   has  the 


I 


PRE3ESTS  REJEUTKI). 


385 


impudence  to  exact,  in  addition,  ten  rharis  (or  two 
hundred  piastres)  to  be  given  to  Klialil  as  a  bakhahisb. 
I  grant  them  at  once ;  but  now  his  wolfish  voracity 
inci'easeij  aii  he  devours  ;  he  nnint  have  bedsides  for  thin 
same  Khalil,  another  uba^a,  another  kiifich.  and  another 
pair  of  boots.  Though  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  give 
them,  I  perceive  tliat  1  must  resist  this  overwhelming  tide 
of  exactions,  or  it  vritl  flow  on  for  ever.  I  give  -vent  to  my 
displeasure  in  an  angry  tone,  and  declare  that  I  will  treat 
no  longer  with  Midjielly :  that  he  may  go  and  settle  witli 
Matteo,  and  that  we  desire  to  be  left  alone. 

The  anxiety  to  finger  our  gold  pieces  induces  the  two 
honourable  Scheikhs  to  close  the  sitting  at  once.  They 
leave  us  without  our  exchanging  the  slightpst  expression 
of  politeness  ;  but  I  must  not  forget  to  mention  here  that 
I  have  insisted  upon  the  condition  of  the  Scheikh  Moham- 
med-el-Midjielly  accompanying  us  in  person,  as  far  as  the 
fii-st  encampment  of  the  Beni-Sakhars,  in  the  Rhor-Safieh. 
He  has  bonnd  himself  to  comply. 

Scarcely  are  we  rid  of  our  two  rapacious  blood-suckers, 
when  the  Beni-^jakh<lr  Scheikhs  enter  to  ask  for  their 
salary.  Either  the  people  of  Karuk  have  been  selling 
thein  their  spices  at  an  exorbitant  rate,  or  else  these 
gentlemen  are  anxious  to  profit  by  their  sojuurn  in  this 
elegant  mctmirotis  to  lay  in  a  stock  of  those  luxurious 
trifles  which  are  essential  to  their  pretensions  as  fashion- 
able Bedouins. 

This  fresh  inroad  on  our  finances  oceaHions  general 
discontent.  Who  knows  if.  when  they  are  paid,  the 
Scheikhs  will  serve  us  with  the  same  fidelity ''.  I  refuse 
^  resolutely  to  comply  with  their  request,  and  signify  that, 
^K    since  1  have  engaged  upon  onth  to  pay  them  on  the  day 


8S6 


LUV   6TATK   OF   tXCUEWiKtl- 


when  vre  return  to  tlieir  t«Dt^  t  neoil  not  aud  will  uot 
disburse  until  that  day  arriveo.  They  continue  importu- 
nate, stating  tliat  they  are  distrossed  hy  absolute  warn — 
tlie  nocossity  of  meeting  their  own  expenses  and  the 
expenses  of  their  people.  I  give  in  at  last,  and  consent 
to  pay  them  two-thirds  of  tJie  sum  contracted  for.  I  send 
them  to  the  treasury — that  i»,  to  PhiUppe,  who  is  our 
purse-bearer,  and  to  Mattoo,  who  serves  out  the  cash  to 
the  I^douins. 

Speaking  of  our  treasury,  it  has  iallen  to  an  ebh  that 
causes  us  much  unca^inoss,  and  lias  been  so  often  drawn 
upon  since  our  departui-e  from  Jerusalem,  that  the  balance 
is  almost  a  cipher.  A  rencontre  with  another  tribe  or 
two,  aud  we  shall  Imve  nutliiug  but  our  good  looks  to 
offer  in  payment  for  Bedouin  hospitality.  This  is  as  mudi 
as  to  say  that  we  run  a  considerable  risk  of  returning  to 
Jerusalem  without  our  clothes,  even  if  we  ai-e  fortunal* 
enough  (o  return  at  all. 

We  have,  however,  succeeded  in  contracting  a  loan  iu 
the  desert,  and  the  alfair  is  so  incredible  that  I  cmmot 
help  detailing  it.  On  the  day  when  we  lelt  the  encamp- 
ment of  Kharbet-FouqouA,  near  Schihaii,  a  brilliant  idea 
suggcslod  itself,  which  I  immediately  carried  into  execu- 
tion. We  had  still  attached  to  our  caravan  the  cattle- 
dealer,  Miihamined-el-Qodsy,  who  was  on  his  way  to 
Karak,  with  the  intention  of  purchasing  some  slicep. 
Most  probably  he  was  furnished  with  a  certain  sttm  in 
gold,  which  if  we  could  contrive  to  bori-ow  from  him,  our 
exhausted  money-bags  might  swell  again  to  their  ordinary 
bulk. 

I  desii'ed  Matteo  to  sound  him  ;  he  made  no  objecUtHi 
to  accommodate  m,  and  the  conditioiis  were  soon  ar- 


>A»  OONTBACTBD   IN  THB  DESERT. 


I       baffl( 

■  bish 


ranged.  Malteo  hatf  asked  him,  in  my  uame,  what  profit 
he  expected  to  make  by  hU  intended  sppculation  in 
Karak  'i  Moliamiiicd  answered,  eight  liuiidrcul  piastres. 
Now.  he  carried  ivith  him  two  thousand  piastres  in  gold. 
I  offered  to  bon-ow  his  two  thousand  piastres,  and  to  give 
faiin  in  oxcliange  two  tliousarid  ciglit  hundred  on  tlio  <Iay 
when  we  should  arrive  at  Jerusalem.  He  agreed  moat 
willingly  to  our  proposal ;  but  a  good  Mussulman  caniiot 
lend  money  on  interest,  the  Koran  positively  forlida  it. 
It  was,  therefore,  necessary  to  hit  on  some  contrirance  to 
baffle  the  prophut,  and  thus  we  sottle  it :  Mohamniod  »old 
bis  horse  to  Matteo  for  a  thousand  piastres,  and  Matteo 
lid  it  back  to  him  immediately  for  two  hundred,  which 
esiablishcd  a  balance  of  ciglit  hundred  piastres  in  favour 
^m  of  Mohammed.  This  sum  3Iattco  bound  himself  to  pay  at 
^■Jcnisalem,  in  the  manner  and  at  the  date  prcscribod.  The 
H  double  bargain  wag  concluded  with  many  graspings  of  tlie 
^Biuuids,  solemnly  deUvcred  in  token  of  mutual  good  faith. 
^■I  then  deliver  to  Moliammed-el-Qodsy  a  bill  for  two 
"  thousand  piastres,  to  bo  paid  in  gold  at  our  banker's,  and 
we  forthwith  pocketed  his  money.  At  the  rate  we  were 
spending,  these  piastres  were  not  likely  to  remain  long 
Bin  our  possession,  and  indeed  they  very  soon  changed 
'     owners. 

I  Haring  dismissed  our  Bcni-Sakhars,  we  looked  for  no 
more  dunning  visits ;  but  we  deceived  oui-selves  again. 
It  is  now  Scheikh  Khalil's  turn,  who  enters  in  a  state  of 
bigh  excitement,  and  insists  upon  receiving  two  thotuand 
piastres  instead  of  the  two  hundred  that  his  brother  had 
asked  for  him.  "  I  am  as  much  of  a  Scheikh  as  Moham- 
med," says  he,  "  and  have  ec|ual  pretensions  to  the  samo 
tment ;  it  is  an  insult  to  give  mv  ton  miserable  rhazis : 
I 


S8S 


UV&IQAL  BOX. 


a  shameful  degradation  ;  I  denuuvl  one  hundred."  On 
thut  new  stone  falling  upon  our  heads,  we  get  into  a 
pasaion,  and  angr^'  wgrda  are  likely  to  ensue. 

But  Scheikh  Abd-AUah  has  told  Khalil  of  the  musical- 
box  ;  and  curious,  like  a  true  Bedouin,  in  the  midst  of  his 
anger  he  asks  us  to  let  him  see  the  box,  and  hear  a  song 
from  the  tittle  animal  enclosed  in  it.  I  see  here  a  reed  to 
cling  to,  and  I  catch  at  it  like  a  drowning  man.  I  take 
out  the  box  with  much  parade  from  the  paltry  jewel- 
casket  we  have  brought  with  us  ;  I  wind  it  up  and  placa 
it  upon  the  table.  Khatil  is  lost  in  wonder ;  and  ten 
times  miming  we  are  compelled  to  wind  up  the  box,  and 
listen  to  the  monotonous  tunes  of  this  wearisome  piece  of 
mechanism. 

Our  Bedouin,  his  eyes  sparkling  like  carbuncles,  at  latst 
exclaims  in%'oIimtarily,  "Give  it  me  as  a  bakhshish !"  a 
proposal  1  reject  with  indignation,  to  iacrcaso  his  anxiety 
for  possession.  I  tell  him  that  this  box,  which  has  ooet 
exactly  seven  francs  and  u-half,  is  worth  many  thousands 
of  piastres,  that  it  is  our  swuutoat  consolation  in  all  diffi- 
culties, and  that  I  cannot  cousent  to  part  with  it  on  any 
terms.  But  Khalit  is  a  ladies'  man,  and  keeps  a  harem ; 
getting  the  littlu  creature  to  sing  for  his  mistresses  will 
make  him  an  object  of  their  general  admiration.  So  he 
perseveres  in  Iuh  entreaties,  ami  lays  his  hand  upon  the 
box.  As  I  am  quite  satisfied  he  will  hrcnk  the  spring  the 
first  time  he  attempts  to  wind  it  up,  I  tell  him  that  the 
little  creature  gets  tired  of  singing,  and  that  after  some 
tickling  it  falls  asleep.  "Let  us  sec,"  say  I  to  hint,  "if  it 
is  still  awake ; "  and  I  wind  tliC  box  up  again,  producing 
Another  serenade. 

When  tlie  music  is  over,  Khalil  insists  absolutely  upon 


i 


I 


SltTSICAL   BOX. 


389 


^ 
^ 
^ 


^ 
^ 


^ 


giving  Iiiin  a  Icssou  in  the  art  of  tickling.  I  hold 
hid  hand  to  make  him  leave  off  at  tlie  proper  time,  and 
tlic  jingling  is  renewed  ;  then  he  wants  to  do  iC  by 
himself.  I  hear  a  little  cracking  noise  of  bad  omen,  and 
tell  our  man  that  the  creature  has  just  gone  to  sleep,  and 
will  repose  for  four-and-twciit^-  hours,  as  the  day  has 
been  a  very  fatiguing  one.  In  four-aml-twenty  hours  wc 
hope  to  he  a  good  way  off ;  and  then  we  shall  care  little 
for  what  may  happen.  At  last,  the  Schcikh  can  contain 
hinmelf  no  longer.  "  Leave  me  thy  box,"  says  he.  "  and  I 
will  be  content  witli  tlie  t«n  rhazis  thou  hast  aln^ady 
g^ven  me."  I  cry  "  done  "  at  once,  and,  pretending  great 
fiitigue,  turn  out  my  visitor.  Klialil  dcpusiLs  the  precious 
little  box  in  his  bosom  with  anxious  solicitude.  Ho 
has  obtained  an  amusing  trinket,  for  which,  by  his  own 
estimate  ho  haa  paid  eighteen  hnndrcd  piastres.  The 
price  may  be  considered  dear.    . 

At  last,  thank  heaven  I  we  arc  alone,  and  we  throw 
ourselyes  upon  our  cots.  But  now  comes  Fraiiei«, 
Rothschild's  dragoman,  to  tell  uh  that  it  is  impoitsible  we 
can  start  to-morrow,  because  our  horses  want  shoeing. 
I  am  near  deciding  to  remain  another  day  in  Karak, 
when  Edward  offers  this  objection :  "  The  thought  is 
absurd,"  saya  he ;  "  here  we  have  a  chance  of  getting 
out  of  this  horrible  den  of  cut-throats,  and  we  choose, 
of  our  own  free  will,  to  remain  in  it  twenty-four  hours 
longer  !  The  thing  is  impossible.  Let  our  horses  be  with 
or  without  shoes,  we  must  get  on.  So  much  the  worse 
for  the  moukris,  if  they  have  neglected  to  have  thcni 
shod.  Besides,  it  has  been  raining  for  the  last  two  days  ; 
and,  above  all,  remember  the  Sabkhah  ;  do  you  think 
it  will    be  easv  to  cross    it  * "     At  this  mention  of  llie 


d 


390 


PBBPARATIOKB   FOll   DBPARTtTBR. 


Sabkhali.  ray  liwiitation  ccasm ;  in  my  turn  1  ani 
impatieut  to  find  myself  on  the  western  slioro  of  llie 
Dead  Sea  ;  it  seems  to  me  that,  if  once  there,  wo  slioutd 
feel  at  home.  We  send  Francis  to  the  right-about,  and 
decide  tliat  our  departure  shall  take  place  irrevocably  to- 
morrow morning,  Fraiicis  retires  sulkily  and  gruDibUng. 
We  pay  him  no  aUcntion,  and  hasten  to  get  to  sleep, 
anticipating  the  enjoyment  of  to-morrow's  liberty. 

JammmytttL 

By  dawn  we  are  all  up  and  packing  as  fast  as  possible. 
The  moukrii;  have  been  ordered  to  bo  expeditious  io 
loading  their  auiinab,  for  it  is  our  wish  and  hope  to  be 
off  without  the  loss  of  a  minute.  Alas !  once  more  we 
have  reckoned  without  our  hosts.  When  all  is  ready 
for  a  start,  in  conies  Midjielly  and  alt  bis  gang- 
He  will  not  suffer  us  to  take  leave  of  him  without 
having  seen  the  ruins  of  the  castle,  to  which  he  is 
to  conduct  OS  in  person.  One  hour  is  sufficient  for 
rcconuoisaance. 

It  is  scarcely  possible  to  refuse,  and,  who  knovsT 
Perhaps  in  this  hour,  divided  between  curiositj  and 
prudence,  we  may  make  some  interesting  discovery. 
Wc  prepare  to  accompany  the  Scheikh  nithout  delay, 
when  Francis  Dzaloglou  nislies  in,  in  a  frenzy :  he  has 
been  robbed  of  his  sabre,  which  cost  hiai  four  hundred 
piastres  at  Damascus — a  splendid  weapon,  according  to  liia 
statement.  He  roars  like  a*  madmnn,  and,  to  appease 
him  a  little,  I  bring  his  complaint  immediately  before  the 
8cheikh.  "  One  of  thy  followers  has  just  stolen  a  sword 
from  US,"  say  I ;  "  and  it  depends  upon  thee  that  it  shall 
be  recovered  ;  give  thy  orders  in  consequence,  since  we 
are  under  thy  protection." 


1 


7ASrL1t  OP  KARAK., 

This  request  seems  to  annoy  Midjielly  coiiBiilerably  ; 
but,  as  ho  cannot  pass  it  by,  he  orders  that  it  shall  be 
cried  publicly  in  the  streets  of  Karak  that  a  sword  has 
been  stolen  from  the  strangers,  and  that  it  must  bo 
brought  back  immediately.  The  haughty  reproaches 
of  our  Bcni-Sakhar  cliieftains  haTC  contributed  not  a 
little  to  persuade  Mohammed  to  a  course  evidently  most 
unpalaUiblo. 

After  this  little  episode,  we  proceed  towards  the  CMtle; 
the  crowd  of  curious  idlers  lias  not  depressed,  and  they 
look  oven  more  insolent  than  on  the  day  before.  Arrived 
within  the  enclosure  of  the  old  castle  of  Renaud  do 
Chatilloi),  wc  'are  first  led  to  the  church,  which  is  now 
a  kind  of  large  markct-plaoe,  with  aotbuig  but  the  four 
walls  left,  hut  still  retaining,  liere  and  there,  traces  of 
Christian  pictures,  cflaccd  aud  uniatelligible.  Blended 
in  with  the  masonry  ai-e  various  fragments  which  liare 
been  taken  from  ancient  monuments  ;  such,  for  instance, 
as  ornamental  leaves  in  bas-relief,  and  some  strange 
mouldings.  To  the  right  of  the  gate  by  whicli  you 
enter  the  church,  a  block  of  lava  is  fixed  into  the  wall 
at  about  eight  or  ten  feet  from  tlie  ground.  Upon  this 
block  arc  carved,  and  still  distinguishable,  the  principal 
features  of  a  well-known  Kgyptian  symbol,  the  mystical 
eye  of  Ilorus  (the  Apollo  of  the  Egyptians).  Not  to 
lose  time.  I  request  Belly  to  sketch  it  correctly,  whilst 
1  am  f(}ltowing  Ulidjielly  through  the  still  stupendous 
ruins  of  the  buildiugs,  formerly  appropriated  as  dwolliiig- 
placee. 

To  reach  the  upper  story,  we  are  obliged  to  scramble 
over  the  rubhisli,  and  tlirough  holes  scarcely  largo  enough 
to  allow  a  man's  body  to  pa-iis.     Clambering  up  in  this 


SM 


issui.T  bn-i>i;bkd. 


manner,  at  the  riak  of  breaking  our  necks,  we  reach  lite 
battlements  crowning  the  top  of  the  wiObi.  From  thb 
point  tlie  view  ia  inagniiicont,  and  the  c}'e  at  onc8 
percciroB  the  extent  and  importance  of  this  remarkable 
military  structure,  ^''othing  trould  hare  been  Qasier 
tlian  taking  from  thia  cmiaence  a  plan  of  all  Uie  works 
comprised  within  the  fortress  ;  but  I  confess  freelv  I 
could  not  set  my  mind  to  the  work  :  every  moment  1 
dreaded  trcacliery — at  every  Bt«p  I  looked  for  a  snare, 
and  I  had  no  thought  but  that  of  seeing  oty  whole  party 
safe  and  sound  out  of  Knrak. 

We  hastened  again  don-n,  using  the  same  ruined  and 
encumbered  staircase  by  which  -we  had  ascended,  and 
found  ourselves,  to  our  no  small  satisfaction,  on  the  level 
platform  of  the  castle.  Proceeding  then  southward,  to  a 
spot  where  the  enclosure  wall  rises  perpendicularly  above 
the  valley  that  winds  round  the  basis  of  the  mountain 
upon  which  Kai-ak  is  perched,  we  discovered,  for  the  first 
time,  a  glacis  made  of  huge  blocks  of  well-squared  stones, 
forming  an  inclined  plane,  which  no  besiegers  iu  the  worid 
could  have  got  over. 

We  were  also  led  into  a  vast  hall,  having  another 
subterranean  chamber  below  it.  The  existence  of  ihis 
last,  we  ascertained  fi-om  the  circumstance  that  the  vauh 
forming  the  floor  of  the  upper  hall  had  been  pierced 
through. 

Whilst  Belly  was  busied  sketching,  ho  had  been 
savagely  insulted  by  aii  Arab.  As  won  as  I  was 
informed  of  this,  I  complained  to  the  Scheikh  Midjielly, 
who  gave  me  no  redress  beyond  a  silent  sneer.  In  all 
probability  this  time  again  a  trap  had  been  laid  for  ns  ; 
and,  if  Belly  liad  allowed  himself  in  be  carried  away  by 


INSULTS  ENDUBEr). 


»d3 


lus  Strong  inclination  to  revcugc,  witb  a  pistoI-Bhot,  the 
insult  he  had  sutTered,  it  vfowld  have  been  all  up  witli  iia, 
and  wc  should  have  perislied  to  a  man  in  five  ininutes. 
This  was  the  very  point  to  which  they  wanted  to  provoke 
UB,  and  I  am  thankful  to  Providence  that  in  these  dan- 
gerous moments  we  had  enough  of  cool  self-command  to 
reject  the  easier  courage  of  immediate  retaliation. 
Certainly  we  have  sliown  more  liead  and  judgment,  in 
avoiding  the  snares  to  which  we  were  exposed,  than  if  we 
had  given  way  to  passion,  and  paid  off  these  premeditated 
insults  with  summary  cliastisement.  What  could  five 
men  achieve,  however  determined,  against  a  thousand 
assassins  panting  for  a  pretence  to  cut  our  throats  ?  We 
mig}it  sell  om-  lives  bravely  aud  dearly,  it  is  true ;  but 
what  then  1  What  would  have  become  of  the  interesting 
diiicOTeries  we  have  made  witli  so  much  tal>our  and 
expense  ?  They  would  have  been  lost  for  ever  I  We 
were  wise  and  patient  enough  to  listen  to  the  dictates  of 
phitotwphy,  to  endure  our  insults,  and  to  smother  up  our 
rage  in  perfect  silence. 

The  reader  will  easily  understand  that  we  were  not 
particularly  deRirous  to  prolong  our  visit  to  the  castle 
of  Karak ;  I  thorcforo  signified  to  Midjielly  that  we 
wished  to  return  to  the  convent  to  breakfast,  and  then 
immediately  to  mount  our  horses  and  proceed  to  the 
Rhtir.  We  retraced  our  steps  to  the  convent,  aud  on 
our  way  there  I  procured  from  the  son  of  the  Christian 
Scheikh  Abd-Allali  a  gold  bead,  some  cornelian  beads, 
and  a  cylinder  of  enamelled  earth,  being  the  fragments  of 
a  Jloabitic  collar  which  had  been  found  some  time  pre- 
viously in  a  small  vase  dug  up  at  the  bottom  of  tlie  valley. 
In  exchange  for  these  curious  specimens  of  jewellery 


^JH  A    I)AN0BR0I!8  QtTARREl^ 

^P  slipped  n  rhaxi,  wortli  twenty  piastres,  into  the  lianc 
fif  tlie    vendor,    who  scomod   quite   pleased    with    his 

_,  bargain. 

V  On  our  return  to  the  convent,  wc  find  Philippe  still 
under  the  strong  emotion  of  a  recent  alarm.     We  had 

H^eft  him  singly  to  guard  our  nrras,  and  whilst  wo  were  in 
Uto  castle,  some  Aral)ft  attempted  to  enter  our  room  bjr 
force,  no  doubt  to  make  a  general  pillage  of  everything 
they  could  lay  their  hands  ujKtn.  At  first,  a  siuglu  thief 
had  presented  himself,  and  had  been  roughly  ejected  by 
I'hilippe,  who  then  locked  liimBclf  into  the  room  ;  but, 
almost  immediately,  the  intruder  returned  with  three 
more  birds  of  the  same  feather,  and  began  aftsaulting  the 
door  with  such  noise  and  violence,  that  Philippe,  losing 
all  patience,  threw  it  open,  and,  presenting  au  oight- 
barrelled  pistol  right  in  their  teeth,  scattered  the  enemy 

Klin  a  twinkling. 

B     This  scene  had  just  terminated  as  we  came  in.     Each 

"^f  us  immediately  assumed  all  his  weapons,  and  from  that 
moment  the  cliaiices  of  oiir  being  murdered  in  cold  blood 
became  considerably  dimtni&licd,  aa  wo  were  now  well 
prepared  for  defence,  and  able  to  oppose  a  stout  resistance. 

^L    Of  course,  we  can  procure  no  information  respecting 

Hthc  sword  of  our  man  Francis,  whose  ill-humour  increaaes 

'in  consequence.  At  Inst,  our  breakfast  is  announced  ;  we 
swallow  it  hastily,  tli.it  we  may  depart  at  once ;  but 
the  endless  delays  of  our  moukris  detain  us  more  than  an 
additional  hour,  and  the  reader  may  iniagiue  the  feverish 
impatience  under  which  we  suffer.  All  the  men  conw 
posing  our  escort  are  forthcoming,  and  once  more 
mustered  around  us.  The  storm  that  threatened  so 
boisterously,  has  blown  over  without  much  damage.     Our 


THS   KAltAK   9CRKIRR    RBBITKBD. 


spii'ita  rise  in  iiroportion,  although  we  are  still  within  the 
walls  of  ivarak.  At  last  we  are  in  the  saddle,  but  we 
are  jot  coiulcmiiotl  to  waste  nearly  half  an  hour  more, 
which  seems  at  least  a  century,  until  the  whole  caravan 
is  reported  rcadv.  But,  oven  during  this  half-hotir,  we 
hare  added  something  to  our  travelling  education  I'o 
Arabia.  Scarcely  am  I  mounted,  when  M<thanimed-el- 
Uidjielly  draws  near,  and  says  to  me,  with  the  most 
consummate  effrontery  in  the  worhl  :  "  Yesterday  thou 
hast  oflcrcd  me  thy  double-barrelled  gun.  Well !  give 
it  me  now?"  Need  I  say  that  this  modest  request 
enrages  me  t  "I  have  given  thee,"  replied  I,  " all  that 
thou  shall  have  from  me  ;  thou  hast  preferred  money  to 
the  gun.  I  have  paid  the  money ;  thou  shalt  have 
nothing  more.  Hut  still.  I  have  been  robbed  of  a  splendid 
aword ;  one  of  thy  men  is  the  thief  ;  if  thou  canst  recover 
%  1  give  thee  that  also."  "  Khatrak-el-khair!"  (**I 
thank  thee!")  rejoins  the  miBcrable  varlet.  Evidently 
either  himself  or  his  brotSier  Khalil  have  procured  the 
abduction  of  the  sword. 

One  of  our  llcui-Sakhar  Schteikhs  overhears  this  short 
conrersaiion  ;  and,  taking  it  up  with  an  animated  voice, 
reproaches  Midjielly  bitterly  for  his  infamous  behaviour 
towards  us :— "  These  strangei-s  were  thy  guests,"  says 
he  ;  "  they  have  all  paid  liberally  for  their  welcome,  and 
thou  allowcst  one  of  thy  followers  to  steal  a  sword  from 
them !  Amongst  the  Beni-Sakhars.  if  such  a  thing  was 
to  happen,  dost  thou  hear.  Scheikh  Mohammed,  the  tribe 
would  give  the  Frenchman  ten  swords,  handsomer  than 
tJie  one  he  had  lost,  and  the  robber  would  bo  punished, 
even  30  as  to  cure  him  of  his  tricks.  But  here  you  are 
alt  thieves  and  yoii  don't  know  how  a  guest   is  to  be 


DBPABTOBG   mou   KABAC. 


protected."  The  lesson,  though  severe,  was  digest 
without  a  word  in  reply  by  the  Scheikb  of  Karak.  who 
has  seiiRC  enough  not  to  take  umbrage  at  such  reproaches 
as  inay  be  addressed  to  him  by  a  brotJier  Scheikb,  of  the 
powerful  tribe  of  Beni-Sakhar. 

After  Miitjiolly,  his  nephew  Selamch  has  the  impudence 
to  approach,  and  demand  the  pistols  I  had  offered  him 
yesterday,  before  our  iicgoliatious  merged  into  a  financial 
compromise.  I  tell  him.  unceremoniously,  he  may  go  to 
the  devil ;  asking  him,  at  the  same  time,  if  he  take«i  me 
for  a  fool.  These  were  the  last  words  I  exchanged  with 
the  respectable  Scheikb  Selameh  of  Karak. 

At  length  the  word  is  given  tliat  everything  is  ready. 
1  direct  our  beasts  of  burden  to  he  led  off  in  front,  and 
we  follow  in  good  order.  Moliammed-el-Midjielly,  who 
has  been  the  laat  to  vault  into  the  saddle,  ta,  I  must 
confess,  one  of  the  most  accomplished  cavaliers  you  can 
desire  to  look  o».  He  makes  liis  horse  prance  and  caper 
gracefully,  as  he  rides  by  tlic  side  of  our  friends  the 
Sclieikh^.  We  remark  that  lie  is  not  armed,  as  people  of 
his  race  generally  are  when  about  to  undertake  an  excur- 
sion of  several  leagues.  But  we  think  little  of  this 
circumstance,  oo  accustomed  are  we  to  find  the  Arabs 
religious  observers  of  plighted  failli.  Jlohammed  carries 
at  present  no  weapon  but  his  chibouk.  He  is  the  only 
one  of  his  family  accom[Kiiiying  us ;  all  Uis  intimates  have 
disappeared  ;  but,  in  their  stead,  Scheikb  Abd-AIlah, 
with  his  son,  and  four  or  five  other  Christians,  well  armed 
with  muskets  and  khandjars,  have  joined  our  escort, 
without  any  previous  understanding.  Their  company  is 
far  from  being  disagreeable  to  us,  but  T  am  quite  sure 
Midjielly  could  dispense  with  it  very  willingly. 


IBTINO   INSULTS. 


^ 


Wo  Imvc  passed  safely  through  the  vile  accumulation 
of  rubbish  which  is  called  Karuk,  and  are  approaching  the 
tunnel-gate  which  we  had  visited  yesterday,  when  one  of 
the  exquisites  of  the  placo — a  young  man,  of  shout  five- 
and-tweuty  yeai-s  old,  his  eyes  painted  round  with  a  circle 
of  eohol,  and  his  long  hair  braided  over  hia  temples — a 
vagabond,  ^hu  liad  dogged  our  heels  during  oar  two 
rambles  through  the  town,  uttering  abuses — at  the  same 
time  takes  it  intu  his  head  to  give  us  a  parting  farewell 
after  a  fashion  of  his  own.  This  lime  we  are  in  a  position 
to  punish  his  impertinence  smartly.  Midjielly  is  fully 
aware  that  it  is  so,  and  coutiequtintly  he  prefers  doing  it 
himself  with  a  good  grace.  Ue  pushes  his  hoi^e  straight 
up  to  the  man  with  the  painted  eyes,  and  breaks  against 
the  fellow's  head  the  pipe  of  his  chibouk,  hurled  with  all 
his  might.  Everybody  laughs,  except  the  delinquent,  who 
was  unprepared  for  this  salute,  and  retires,  repeatedly 
rubbing  his  head  with  both  his  hands,  and  howling 
piteously. 

While  we  are  passing  through  the  txmnel,  stones  are 
hurled  down  upon  us  through  the  hole  in  the  vaulted 
roof,  as  a  preliminary  to  the  farewell  salute  prepared  a 
litUe  further  on.  As  we  clear  the  gate  and  enter  upon 
the  road,  ve  receive  from  onr  kind  (i-iends  in  Karak, 
ranged  on  the  top  of  the  wall,  a  regular  volley  of  stones, 
which  tuckity  does  no  harm,  and  merely  induces  us  to 
quicken  our  ))aRe. 

It  is  nearly  half-past  eleven  when  we  issue  from  the 
town,  and  follow  the  descent  leading  to  the  foot  of  the 
tower  of  Belbnrs.  In  less  than  five  minutes  we  wind 
along  the  outwanl  face  of  this  tower,  through  the  ditch 
running  before  it^  and  forming  the  continuation  of  the 


MS 


ESCAI'B   rKOH   KAKAK. 


high  road  wc  are  now  foUowiug.  Before  coiiiing  to  tba 
ditch,  the  Scheikli  HotiaiDined-el-Mldjielly  draws  Dear, 
stAiDiners  oiit  some  phrase  of  doubtful  polilcaeaa,  after 
which,  witliout  waiting  for  my  answer,  he  immediately 
turns  bis  hoi'se  round,  and  rides  off  at  a  gallop  towards 
his  robbers'  nest.  "Go  thy  way».  wrctc-h  I  and  may 
Heaven  confound  t3ioo ! "  is  the  univei-sal  blessing  which 
we  send  after  him  at  [narting  ;  we  iJien  spur  our  horses, 
and  uniblo  away  with  light  heartti  Dxim  this  dty  of 
disaster. 

The  ditcii  of  Beihars  being  passed,  two  windings  of  the 
road  take  us  up  to  a  flat  eminence,  not  more  than  ten 
yards  wide,  and  rising  pei-peiidicularly  above  tlie  Ouad-d- 
Karak.  Wo  inarch  then  in  a  north-woslerly  directioa 
By  forty-two  minutes  past  eleven  we  reach  a  steep  ridgc> 
where  the  road  ttiriis  and  goes  down  abruptly,  and  with 
sliort  zig-zags,  to  another  incUued  plane  bearing  more  U> 
the  west  tJian  tJic  first.  Soon  after  this  we  enter  on  a 
scries  of  very  short,  narrow,  and  abnij)!  windings,  taking 
ua  again,  by  fifty-two  minutes  past  eleven,  in  front  of  the 
tower  of  Bcibars,  scarcely  a  liundrcd  yards  from  the  left 
extremity  of  its  anterior  face,  but  two  hundred  yard* 
lower  down  in  perpendicular  height.  Hero  the  road  makes 
auother  turn,  and  the  tower,  which  was  on  our  left,  shifts 
immediately  to  our  right.  We  then  march  again  north- 
west, to  proceed  soon  duti  north.  We  are  on  the  declivity 
of  the  mountain  of  Karak ;  and  wo  wind,  to  our  left, 
along  a  deep  ravine  called  the  Ouad-el-Medabeli,  with  a 
rit-ulel  rtiDnmg  at  the  bottom.  Our  descent  is  rapid.  By 
twelve  exactly  we  are  opposite  some  projecting  rocks  on 
the  mountain  side ;  under  thetie  is  concealed  a  t;pring. 
called  Ayu-Tuheddali.     By  three  minutes  past  twelve  wc 


i 


^ 


FOUNTAIN    UP    AYN    fiAKA. 


S90 


enil  to  "R-ithin  six  yards  of  the  bottom  of  the  ouad, 
Bicli  now  takes  llie  name  of  Ouad-cl-Goulleh. 
The  bed  of  the  rivulet  is  full  of  rose-laurel  buBhes,  and 
by  fire  minutes  past  twelve  we  cross  it,  in  the  middle  of 
small  cultivated  plains,  planted  with  olive-trees.  By  uine 
minutes  past  twelve  the  ouad  uurrows  again,  so  as  to 
beoomo  ouly  twenty  yards  wide,  and  we  are  opposite  to 
some  masses  of  rock  on  our  left,  which  hare  fallen  down 
from  tlic  mountain.     To  our  right,  on  tho  opposite  flaiik — 

[and  on  the  other  side  of  the  rindet,  the  bed  of  which  i» 

[very  deep  and  narrow  at  tliis  spot,  with  a  fine  rich 
vegetation  along  its  banks — we  descry  a  small  rmucd 
JIuBsulman  building,  cloao  to  a  foimtain  called  Aj'n-Sara. 
This  foimtain  is  siiAicicDtlj  abundant  to  turn  a  small  mill, 
situated  some  yards  lower  down.  It  is  tnie,  a  second 
spriug,  called  Ayn-Obech,  or  Aqbech  (the  Arabs  of  Karak 

i  pronounce  tlUs  iiauic  both  wnys),  also  contributes  its  waters 
to  (lie  mill.  Beyond,  a  valley  opens,  fifty  yards  distant  to 
our  right.  This  is  the  Ouad-BcliUitamali,  on  the  westciii 
Qank  of  wliich,  a  Tillage  is  pointed  out,  called  Daouarat- 
el-Uabs. 

Our  roa<I  is  still  through  the  Ouad-el-Karak,  running 
here  in  a  north-westerly  direction,  and  we  pass  on  the  left 
a  hillock,  having  its  <!eclivity  planted  with  olive-trees.  As 
soon  as  wo  have  passed  the  head  of  the  Ouad-Bela.staniah, 
the  Ouad-el-Kai-ak  turns  with  our  road  due  west,  widcniug 
to  a  breadth  of  two  hundred  yards,  so  as  to  form  a  small 
plain,  witJi  a  mill  at  tho  bottom.  By  sixteen  minutes  paxt 
twelve  we  are  opposite  this  mill;  we  then  leave  the  bottom 
of  the  oua'l,  to  ascend  a  small  cultivated  eminence,  hounded 
by  rocks,  commanding  the  bed  of  the  ravine.    We  are  now 

:  joarching  west-south-wesL     By  twenty-one  minutes  past 


40(1 


TUB   QUUBBET^UABISICH. 


twelve  we  are  at  a  constflttrable  distance  from  the  Ouad- 
el-Earak,  aad  in  frout  of  a  small.  low  plain,  in  ihe  ccnlro 
of  which  is  a  fountain,  called  Ayu-el-Bessas,  situated  abont 
forty  yards  to  tlie  right  of  our  road.  From  this  spot  the 
road,  inclines  sUghtly  upwards,  and  in  a  west-north-weas 
direction.  By  twonty-tsix  minutes  past  twelve  the  bottom 
of  the  Ouad-el-Karak,  i-uiming  due  west.  Is  two  hundred 
yards  distant  to  our  right,  wliilst  the  chfis  bordering  tlie 
valley  on  our  side  bcgiu  only  one  hundred  yards  oflf  to 
our  left 

Wc  have  then  distinctly  in  sight,  beyond  the  Ouad-el- 
Karak,  a  high  mountain,  on  the  summit  of  which  is  the 
tomb,  called  Qoubbet-Habiaich,  of  a  Mussulman  saint ; 
and  also  the  niius  of  a  Christian  monastery,  named  at 
the  present  day,  Dier-el-Mokharib.  By  thirty-eight 
mtuutes  past  twelve  our  road,  after  having  made  an 
elbow  to  the  south,  resumes  a  wcsteriy  directiou,  and  we 
are  opposite  some  perpendicular  rocks  bordering  the 
oppOBite  side  of  the  Ouad-el-Karak.  These  rucks  hare 
received  IVom  the  Arabs  the  name  uf  El-Khaouadjat  (the 
merchants),  but  uouo  of  our  Bedouins  can  furnish  me  with 
the  reason  of  this  extraordinary  designation. 

By  forty-three  minutes  past  twelve  we  arrive  at  the 
bed  of  a  rivulet,  planted  with  roso-kurcl  bushes.  This 
rivulet  is  formed  by  a  spring  cidled  Ayn-yahour.  The 
Ouad-el-Kamk  hero  takes  a  westerly  direction,  as  does 
our  road,  and  four  hundred  yards  distant  to  the  right. 
By  fifty-one  minutes  past  twelve  we  turn  off  a  little, 
marching  west-north-west.  We  are  tlicn  on  the  side  of 
a  hill,  fonning,  in  some  sort,  the  foot  of  a  high  moimtain, 
the  summit  of  which,  distant  about  four  thousand  yards 
on  our  left,  is  named  lias-cl-IImguer.   By  fifty-five  miuutea 


YB3TIQW  OP   AIT  ASCIEST   PA7R»  ROAD. 


fAl 


b 


• 


past  twelve  vre  liave  reaulieJ  the  bottom  of  a  snuiU  ravine, 
covered  with  aiiotUcr  liue  thickot  of  rose-laui-el  bushes. 
By  fifty-eight  minutes  past  twelve,  at  the  very  spot  whore 
we  fall  in  with  a  fountain  called  the  Ayii-el-Thabib,  om* 
road  takes  a  slight  turn,  incljiiiDg  exactly  iiorth-wc^  At 
One  o'clock  wo  reach  another  spring,  the  AjTi-el-Sekkeh, 
situated  at  the  foot  of  a  rising  ground,  on  an  agreeable 
grass-plot.  W'c  Iialt  hero  for  a  few  minutes,  to  water 
our  horses.  The  bed  of  the  Ouad-el-Karak  is  then  eight 
hundred  or  a  thousand  yards  distant  to  our  right.  We 
march  north-north-west  until  nearly  half-past  one,  when 
we  perceive,  at  a  distauce  of  twenty-five  yarJR  to  our 
lefti  a  second  spring,  also  called  Ayn-el-Sekkeh. 

On  the  flank  of  the  mountain,  opposite  the  declivity 
along  wlUch  wc  are  marching,  we  descry  a  verdant  ravine, 
with  a  spring  named  tlie  Ayn-Zeboub.  By  twenty-six 
minutes  past  one  the  valley  inclines  a  Uttic  to  the  south, 
and  our  course  lies  west  by  north.  We  arc  then  on  a 
small  eminence,  on  which  a  single  tree  is  planted.  By 
half-past  one  we  pass  in  front  of.  and  at  the  distance  of 
thirty  yards  from,  a  ruin  called  Omm-Sedoroh.  Wo  now 
discover,  for  the  first  time  in  this  direction,  well-marked 
vestiges  of  an  ancient  paved  road.  To  our  left,  on  the 
height,  at  the  distance  of  half  an  hour's  march,  according 
to  the  statement  of  some  Karak  Arabs  who  liavc  joined 
our  caravan,  is  the  BcIad-el-Ahzar.  At  forty  minutes 
past  one  we  are  marching  north-west,  and  arc  e-vactly  in 
front  of  the  Ayn-Zehoub,  already  mentioned,  from  which 
we  are  divided  by  an  interval  of  nearly  three  thousand 
yards. 

We  keep  advancing  along  the  side  of  the  moimtain 
forming  the  southern  border  of  the  Ouad-el-Karak,  and 


vot.  I. 


4i0ft 


TUS  8PBIK08   OP  TilK   ANTKLOPB& 


puweBd  hytk  ridgo  commanding  r  level  eminence,  mtii: 
about  fifty  yards  below  our  path.  On  tliis  lower  lodge, 
and  at  about  fifty  yards'  diWance,  as  the  crow  flies,  are 
apringg  sitiiated  amongst  rocks,  and  called  Ayoun-el- 
RhciiaL  Iniiiiodiat«ly  after  we  begin  the  descent  towards  ■ 
this  ledge,  marching  west  by  north.  The  bed  of  the 
Ouad-el-Karak  has  now  drawn  closer  to  us,  and  we  are 
only  four  hundred  yards  distant  from  it.  Until  two 
o'clock  we  follow  a  path  cut  perpendicularly  upon  rocks, 
commanding,  from  a  height  of  ten  yards,  the  lower  Iedg4^ 
upon  which  arc  found  the  Ayoun'-cl-Ehozat  (tbo  Springs 
of  the  Antelopes). 

By  eight  minutes  past  two  we  arc  on  the  crest  of  a 
small  dwpiy-ljol  lowed  valley,  coming  from  the  south. 
and  at  tlie  bottom  of  which  is  a  spring  called  Ayu-ei^ 
liooia.  Some  winding  paths,  difficult  to  follow,  take 
us,  by  a  qiuirter-past  two,  to  the  bottom  of  tJiis  raJley, 
clotio  to  the  fountain.  The  Ouad-ol-Karak  is  then  six 
hundred  yanls  dUtant  to  our  right  On  our  arrival 
hcrOj  our  cl-Karak  Christiaus  propusu  to  us  to  halt  and 
pitch  our  tents  for  the  night.  But  this  advice  is  very 
roughly  received ;  wo  have  retained  too  keen  a  remeiQ' 
brance  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  inho-spitable  town  we 
have  just  left,  not  to  deem  it  the  highest  dt^ree  of 
folly  to  encamp  so  close  to  its  walls.  We  are  still  far 
from  the  toots  of  the  Beni-Sakhara ;  Mohammed-el- 
Uidjiolly  might  very  easily  change  his  mind,  and  &11 
upon  us  during  the  night  with  his  banditti.  I  therefore 
negative  this  proposition  in  the  most  decided  terms 
greatly  to  the  disgust  of  our  moukris,  and  issue  positive 
orders  to  continue  the  march,  tsignifying  that  I  am  deter- 
mined to  sleep  to-night  beyond  tlie  mountains  and  within 


AWirMTTHTIOH  OP   BliOOM, 


I 


the  Rh&r.  Nolmdy  dares  to  offer  remonstrances  whicli 
©ridently  would  be  ill-received,  and  wc  pnsli  on. 

After  winding  tliroiigli  the  bottom  of  the  raltey  along 
the  foot  of  the  height,  we  resume,  by  twciity-otio  minutes 
piist  two.  our  north-westerly  direction.  The  Ouad-el- 
Karalv  k  still  drawing  closer  to  us,  and  is  now  only  four 
hundred  yards  distant  to  our  right.  We  then  proceed 
along  a  cornice,  not  more  than  ten  yards  wide,  oom- 
mnnding  the  inferior  ledge.  At  this  spot  we  have,  nine 
hundred  yards  off,  to  our  left,  the  summit  of  the  Djobel- 
el-Hadits ;  and  at  nearly  twelve  miles  to  our  right  that 
of  the  Djebel-Dziifel.  We  fioon  descend  between  the  rocks 
to  the  lower  platform,  and  find  ourselves,  by  thirty-five 
minutes  past  two,  in  the  midst  of  a  vast  agglomeration  of 
huge  bloclcA  that  tiavo  been  rent  from  the  mountain  by  an 
earthqn-ike.  and  rolled  down  into  the  valley.  From  tliirty- 
fivo  to  forty-two  minutes  past  two  wc  are  moving  through 
this  chaos  :  and  the  bed  of  the  ouad  has  drawn  a  hundred 
yards  closer  to  us. 

liy  forty-four  minutes  past  two  we  enter,  through  the 
fallen  rocks,  another  atccp  and  winding  descent,  called 
the  Naqb-el-Mouchinaneh.  At  forty-scvcu  minutes  past 
two  wc  cross  a  ravine  encumbered  with  enormous  rocks, 
beyond  which  this  ntrange  chaos  Ktill  extends,  —  the 
actual  fragmenls  of  a  mountain  shattered  into  pieces  by 
a  terrible  convulsion  of  naturo.  At  Jifty-uinc  tuiimtes 
past  two  wc  arrive  at  a  small  circuUr  plain,  not  more 
than  one  hundred  yards  in  diameter,  and  pass  cloM  by 
the  left  flank  of  a  rocky  conical  hill  of  considerable 
elevation.  The  termination  of  the  Ouad-cl-Karak  is  three 
hundred  yards  distant  to  our  right.  By  live  minutes 
paat  Uiree  we  desc4>nd  again    lietween    the  rocks.     We 


404 


KKuBMOUii   CKATE8. 


have  now  gcuued  the  bottom  of  a  steep  rarinc,  whic 
JVC  reach  by  twenty  minutes  past  three,  and  take  our 
course  along  it  west-south-west.  Tlie  rigbt  bank  ol 
tUia  ranne  is  formed  by  a  projectiug  hillock  of  con- 
siderable size,  on  the  western  point  of  which  are  the 
ruins  of  an  ancient  tower,  called  Rcdjom-Talua.  At 
the  cud  of  the  ravine,  opposite  this  tower,  we  find, 
by  twenty-four  minutes  past  llircc,  a  small  spring. 
1\m  is  dyn-Talua.  (Taliui  means  any  place  by  whicb 
the  waters  are  carried  down  from  the  heights  into 
the  plain.) 

By  hajf-past  three  we  are  on  the  flank  of  another 
conical  hill,  situated  to  our  left,  and  reach  tlie  foot  of  it 
by  two  or  three  very  steep  winding  paths.  This  conical 
hill  commands  a  ravine  containing  auothcr  spriug,  called 
the  Aj-n-el-JIautarah.  At  length,  by  thirty-five  minutes 
piuit  three,  we  are  before  the  entrance  of  a  fearful  chasm, 
being  in  reality  an  enormous  crater.  This  is  called  the 
Ouad-cl-KliarH7,ob,  or  rather  ol-Kliaradjeh  (the  valley  oi 
the  issue).  On  the  upper  ledge  la  a  square  fiud,  called 
Kabou-el-Kharazeh.  By  forty -two  minutca  pa£t  three  we 
proceed,  by  short  turns,  through  this  repulsive  defile,  com- 
manded on  the  left  by  a  long  black  mountain,  and  on  the 
right  by  immense  calcareous  cliffs.  At  the  foot  of  these 
we  descry  many  level  protrusions  of  lava,  near  enough 
(about  fifty  yards  distant  from  us),  to  enable  us  to  ascer- 
tain that  they  are  not  large  bhick  spots  of  v(^etable  earth. 
By  Ofly-Gre  minutes  past  three  we  are  on  a  rocky 
neck  of  land,  commanding  the  bottom  of  the  valley,  and 
scarcely  forty  yards  broad.  Its  extremity  bears  the  ruins 
of  three  towei-s,  two  of  them  round,  and  the  tliird  square, 
only  ten  yards  distant  from  each  other,  with  the  road 


I 


I 
I 

I 
I 


ETJCAMPIKG   GROUND   REACHED. 


¥Xi 


> 


passing  between  them.  A  number  of  dwarf  palm-trees 
cover  the  right  flank  of  this  species  of  promontory,  whicli 
we  leave,  to  descend  to  the  bottom  of  the  oiiad,  by  passing 
over  the  side  of  the  black  mountain. 

As  our  progress  U  cxtreiiiciy  difficuh,  we  halt  for  five 
minutes,  at  four  o'clock,  to  give  a  Utile  bi-cathiug  lime 
both  to  ourselves  and  to  our  horses.  Itv  eleven  minutes 
]Mist  four  we  are  marching  due-west,  after  having  at  first 
inclined  a  Utile  southward.  We  then  leave  the  flank  of 
the  black  mountain,  and  find  ourselves  again  amongst  the 
white  hillucks,  after  having  passed  other  levelled  lieaps  of 
lava,  the  surface  of  which  seems  to  hare  gone  througli  the 
same  process  of  decomposition  as  the  Voiiuvian  lavas  at 
Torre-del-Greco.  We  follow  a  ravine  running  west-soulh- 
weat  between  the  white  hills,  and  ending  in  a  small  fiat 
ledge,  upou  wliicli  wo  halt  by  twenty  minutes  past  four. 
Since  fourteen  minutes  past  four  the  sandy  hillocks  have 
assumed  a  red  tint,  and  their  sides  are  strewed  with 
rolled  pebbles.  To  our  left.  foUowing  a  direction  parallel 
to  tliat  of  our  road,  is  another  ravine  full  of  dwarf  palm- 
trees  and  rosc-laurcls.  with  a  pleasant  rivulet  bubbling 
along  the  bottom.  Thi.s  is  the  Nahr-ed-Di-fla,  which  wo 
encountered  some  days  since  in  the  Rhdr. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  find  a  more  eligible  spot  for  a 
resting-place  than  that  at  which  wc  have  just  arrived. 
Besides,  it  is  getting  late,  and  night  advances  rapidly. 
We  have  close  by  an  abundant  supply  of  delicious  water. 
Our  camp  ia  soon  pitched,  and  now  we  feel  quite  sure  that 
the  brigands  of  Karak  cannot  attack  us  during  tlic  dark- 
nen.  Wo  are  boyoud  their  reach,  and  too  close  to  the 
encampment  of  our  friends,  the  IJeni-Sakhars,  for  the 
Karakuse  to  attempt  anything  of  the  kind. 


406 


ntiMlHlMTlUB  or  URAVY   ttAlH. 


Tho  voather  has  becoinu  misty,  and  threatens  rain. 
am  aoxiouK,  whilst  our  teuts  are  boinfj^  pitched,  to  make 
Dome  researches  iu  uaiui-al  history  round  the  annp  ;  but 
darkno88  is  comiug  oa  apaco,  aiid  1  am  obliged  to  poet- 
pune  my  scientific  kbotirs  until  to-morrow  moniiug.  We 
•oon  diBOOver  that,  iu  our  march  from  Karak  to  this  plaoe, 
wo  have  reached  a  much  lower  level.  Imttead  of  the 
frozen  temperature  of  that  inhospitable  towo,  we  find  the 
geuial  heat  of  the  shorcM  of  the  Bead  St-'u.  Wo  mark  with 
regret  that  heavy  cluudjn  ore  roUu^  above  our  beadst  u  it 
is  evident  they  are  charged  with  mischief.  Wo  reflect 
with  9ome  anxiety  upon  the  i^bkhab,  which  we  shall  bars 
to  cross  iu  two  days  heuoe,  and  which  might  cause  us 
much  misfortuue  were  the  sudden  I'aius  to  overflow  the 
fords.  But,  uo  QUittcr,  hero  we  are,  safe  and  sound,  out 
of  the  clutches  of  Mohammed -cl-Midjielly  ;  and,  for  tJte 
moment,  let  us  be  happy  iu  tbat  reflection — there  will  be 
time  enough  to  disturh  oui-  thoughts  with  the  dangers  and 
difficulties  of  the  ^bkhah. 

Whilst  our  luoukris  are  pitching  the  tents,  the  Schcikh 
Abd-Aliali  informs  me  that  the  Ouad-el-Khaj-adjeh, 
through  which  we  have  just  been  marcbiog,  was  tho 
scene  of  a  terrible  disaster  to  tlio  army  of  Ibrahim  Pacha, 
at  the  time  of  bis  first  attempt  against  Karak,  According 
to  the  narrator,  the  wholo  of  the  expeditionary  corps 
penshcd  in  this  cut-tln-oat  pass  ;  but  1  make,  in  petto,  tlie 
necessary  allowance  for  Arabian  exaggeration  ;  and  con- 
clude, that  the  battle  that  took  place  in  tho  Ouad-el- 
ICharadJch  was  nmcli  IctM  imporLint  ttuin  the  inhabitants 
of  Karak  choose  to  asseit.  One  thing  is  certain,  that 
ibraliim  Puvlia  was  completely  foiled  in  his  first  attempt 
to  get  possession  of  Uiat  pkce ;  and  that  the  JSgyptiuu, 


niSASTEB  OF  IBBAllIU    PACHA. 


4«7 


crushed  in  the  Ouad-cl^KhEumtjch,  wore  obliged  to 
retreat.  But  they  obfciined  their  revenge  shortly  after. 
The  pass  was  forced,  and  the  towa,  carried  by  jstorm, 
completely  ruined.  It  is  easy  still  to  judge  of  the  devas- 
tation inflicted  on  Una  haimt  of  robbers  by  the  victorious 
soldieni  of  Ibrahim. 

After  dinner,  Iho  cveoiug's  work  was  got  through  aa 
speedily  an  possible,  and  we  all  retired  to  rest  in  high 
spirits,  refleetiug  with  gratitude  on  llie  danger  from  which 
we  liad  just  eacaped.  Scheikh  Haiudans  face  has  also, 
siuco  we  have  reached  tlic  banks  of  the  Nahr-cd-Draa, 
i-csumed  souictliing  of  ita  usual  serenity.  The  faithfid 
protector  finds  his  responsiljility  already  growing  lighter. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

<  .'JBMl*  ld|^t  lwd«r  eaiivatii— Cou*«>)u«nc«t  of  tli*  )iU«  ot » iiair|>«an — Tbe  uvA 
■  wwtinod — PUiOB  Mid  nTino*— Cantinan)  Mwcie— ion  of  eitpiuivo  mina— Hon 
TDlMDie  oridmoB*  Buina  «f  iMNnim— Tbe  L*ad  of  Hob — ScriptimJ  nfr 
Ttaem  vid  aulhraltlMi—TMblB  of  locaJltua  tod  niin*  Hmtlflti  fBtiiirtm  if 
Sadc«ii~«-Z>iu,  mid  the  Salt  lio-aatiia—tUtatau  ol  tho  oondaMiud  (IMm 
KauinontloD  of  iUiutiKtiro  paiaigM  b«ia  tb«  Mcrod  writiiii^. 

We  liavo  oot  becu  decuivcd  iu  our  expectations ; 
towards  nine  o'clock  in  the  erening  the  rain  b(^aii  to 
fall,  aud  coiitiuucd  during  a  cousiderablo  portion  of  the 
night.  This  morning  the  weather  is  still  diirk  and  misty : 
but  above  the  Rhur  the  clouds  are  diWded,  and  not  rery 
throatouiiig.  We  hope  to  leave  the  rain  behind  us  as 
fioou  as  we  shall  have  arrived  on  tlic  shore  of  tbe 
Dead  Sea. 

Whilst  they  are  striking  our  tents,  I  go  down  to  the 
bank  of  the  rivulet,  and  pick  up  some  rocks,  plants,  and 
utolluscas  which  tlic  damp  weather  has  enticed  from 
their  hiding-places.  A  helix  of  a  whitish  colour,  with 
a  puckered  moutli  (HdU-  BoUtieri),  la  found  very 
abimdantly.  The  animal  is  of  a  greenish  yellow,  and 
has  a  strong  smcU  of  garlic,  owing  perhaps  to  its  feed- 
ing exclusively  upon  some  vegetable  of  the  alliaceous 
family. 

When  I  ascend  again,  with  the  produce  of  my  excur- 
sion, to  the  ledge  whei-e  we  have  passed  the  niglit,  I  find 


409 


that  Olio  of  our  nioukriu  has  just  been  stung  in  the  left 
liaud  by  a  large  yellow  scorpiou,  which  had  been  driven 
out  by  the  raiu  from  its  usual  hidiiig-place,  and  had  taken 
refage  uudcr  tlie  lanvaaa  of  uur  teat,  at  ttic  place  where 
le  awning  hangs  orer  the  walls.  The  poor  fellow  is 
sadly  frightened ;  and  I  confess  that  I  do  uot  feel  very 
confident  as  to  the  consequences  of  this  unfortunate 
occurrence.  Not  a  minute  ia  to  be  lost,  and  we  must  try 
something  to  cure  the  sufferer,  or  he  will  encounter  the 
risk  of  dying  from  the  ofl'octs  of  the  titiug.  1  tell  hiin  to 
rdivide  the  Sesh  witli  his  own  khandjar,  at  the  exact  place 
ithere  he  has  been  Btung.  1  tlien  take  from  our  little 
trftvclh'ng  medicine-chest  a  bottle  of  spirits  of  hartshorn. 
As  tJie  wounded  man  is  rather  awkward  in  ojterating 
upoti  hiniscli',  one  of  his  comrades  acts  as  a  surgeon,  and 
'with  great  composure  makes  a  splendid  cut  into  the 
vound.  I  then  saturate  it  with  the  hartshorit,  which 
sets  the  patient  grinning  as  if  he  were  going  mad  ;  and, 

Pto  restore  his  courage,  f  give  liini  a  few  drops  to  drink  in 
half  a  glass  of  water.  I  knew  that  such  was  the  remedy 
a^^inst  the  hite  of  a  viper,  and  I  thought  I  could  do  no 
bettor  than  apply  the  same  to  the  sting  of  a  scorpion. 
The  supposition  proved  correct,  for  the  wounde<l  man 
was  relieved  from  pain  in  a  moment,  and  escaped  the 
threatened  danger,  with  no  other  mischief  than  a  slight 
incision,  which  will  very  soon  be  healed. 

After  the  usual  delay,    our    luggage  is    ready   and 

loaded,  and  the  moment  of  departure  has  arrived,  to  our 

unanimous  satisfaction.     Wo  are  also  now  to  take  leave 

of  the  Christian  Arabs  of  Karak.     I  present  a  bakh.shish 

B  of  five  hundred  piastres  to  Scheikh  Abd- Allah,  twenty 

^pinstrcti  and  a  kaJieh  to  each  of  his  men  ;    we  exchange 


«D 


UOABITIC    BAS-UHUEP. 


euhncoR  most  affectiortateiy,  and  part.  Whilst  tliej  aie 
tcaobig  back  their  way  up  the  Ouat^l-el-KtiaradjeiiT  we 
proceed  Qxactlji'  iii  tti«  oppusite  direction. 

This  morning  I  had  a  long  conversstioa  with  the 
iScheikli  Abd-AUah  as  to  the  possibility  of  carrying  off 
the  Moabitic  bas^-elicf  of  the  Rodjoiu-el-Aabed.  He 
undertakes,  being  hiinsetf  a  sconecottor  by  trade,  to 
reduce  the  sUion,  by  removing  from  the  bade,  the 
Uiickness  that  merely  adds  a  useless  weight ;  and  when 
he  has  done  this,  be  proposes  to  load  it  on  a  camel,  and 
tarry  it  himself  to  the  French  consulate  at  Jerusalem ; 
there  bo  will  immediately  recoire  a  aim  of  tirelve 
hundred  piastres,  for  which  amount  I  liaod  him  a  bill 
upon  our  consul.  Unfortunately,  1  hare  been  stupid 
euough  to  writo  it  only  in  Froucli,  and  thts  is  probably 
the  sole  reason  why  this  precious  monument  has  not  yet 
been  fornnrdcd  to  roe.  More  than  eighteen  months  have 
now  elapsed  since  this  agreement  was  made  between 
Abd-Allah  and  myself,  mid  he  certainly  would  have 
iJready  remitted  the  stone  to  Jerusalem,  had  he  be«i 
more  certain  of  the  payment  of  the  promised  sum. 
However,  it  is  also  possible  that  unexpected  obstacles 
may  have  prevcutcd  him  from  fulfilUug  bis  coutracL 
Who  know3  if  the  Hedouins,  precisely  on  nc-count  of 
the  value  whlcli  i  vtaa  silly  euough  to  attach,  in  thdr 
prescnce,  to  this  unrivalled  monument,  have  not  been 
seized  with  the  frouzy  of  pounding  it  into  dust,  to  e^tracl 
therefrom  the  imaginary  gold  which  my  joy  on  discovering 
the  stone  may  have  naturally  led  thorn  to  suppose  was 
concealed  within  it  t  Tliis  would  be  a  real  loss  to 
archceology.  1  consider  myself  very  fortunate  now  iii 
having  the  taithtui  sketch  we  have  now  brought  ofi,  and 


(BD. 


411 


which  I  thought  nothing  of  a^  long  as  the  has-reUof  itaeU 
w«8  under  my  eyes. 

It  is  fully  thirty-three  minutee  past  eight  o'clock  when 
wo  comniCQce  our  march,  the  Uii-cction  of  our  route  heiug 
weet-south-west.  The  whole  camviui  desceails  with  great 
difficulty  into  the  bed  of  the  Xahr-ed-Driia,  which  is 
only  fifty  yards  distant  from  the  spot  where  we  have 
encamped.  The  direction  of  the  Ouad-cd-Drfla  is  at 
first  east'DOrth-east ;  but  it  soon  mokea  an  abrupt  elbow, 
aud  tunis  westward,  as  ako  does  the  road  wo  now  iutoud 
to  follow. 

Here  an  obstinate  mule,  dcteriuined  to  have  its  own 
way,  rcceiTes  a  terrible  {all,  aod  rolls  down  to  the  bottom 
of  the  rivulet,  getting  entangled  amongst  the  dwarf  jmlni- 
trees  and  rose-laurcIs.  We  hnd  it  do  ea^y  job  to  haul 
her  up  sgaiii,  and  this  untoward  accident  uiakes  us  loao 
ten  good  minutos.  At  forty-four  miuutos  past  eight  1 
was  apprised  of  the  necessity  of  waiting  until  this  disaster 
is  repaired,  and  it  is  only  by  Sfly-fivc  miuutea  past 
eight  that  we  can  resume  our  march.  We  have  luilted 
upon  a  ledge  tolerably  well  planted  with  gum-trees,  by 
the  side  of  a  small  eminence  only  a  few  yards  high,  above 
which  another  pktform  extends  iu  the  direction  of  the 
black  mountain,  which  is  here  distant  about  eight  hundred 
yards. 

The  bottom  of  tho  northern  gulf,  formed  by  the 
[wninsula,  shows  itself  to  U3  again,  and  somewhat  mora 
to  the  south  tima  the  spot  where  we  have  stopped.  By 
Gfty-seven  mitiutes  post  eight  we  are  saircoly  twenty 
yards  dibtant  from  the  summit  of  tho  little  eminence  we 
have  just  been  rounding ;  and  the  two  ledges  whicli  it 
divided,  both  planted  with  acacias,  unite  immediately  to 


412 


I'UUMS    AXD    HAVINKH. 


form  a  small  plain,  covered  with  niiuis,  and  called  TalAa* 
Scim^n  or  Sclman.  Tlibs  {tlairi  soon  siuks  to  a  lower 
level,  and  forms  a  second  shelf,  likewise  covered  with 
ruins  and  planted  with  guni-trcce  ;  our  course  ibroogli 
it  tics  south-west.  The  ruins  speedily  disappear.  By 
nine  minutes  past  nine  wo  turn  our  tacks  upon  the 
Ouad-cl-Kharadjeh.  and  wind  along  'a  hillock  situated 
on  our  right. 

By  eleven  minutes  past  nine  we  have  rounded  the 
western  spur  of  the  hillock,  and  march  directly  south- 
west, through  a  plain  covered  with  gum-treet^  and 
inclining  downwards  towards  the  Dead  Sea.  Here  some 
very  considerable  ruins  begin  again  to  show  themselves. 
By  fourteen  minutes  past  nine  we  cross  a  rarine,  the 
southern  bank  of  which  is  edged  by  an  ancient  wall  ; 
beyond  the  ravine,  to  the  right  and  left,  extensive  ruins 
are  spreading,  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  and  named  by 
the  Arabs  Kharbat-ed-Dria.  The  foundation  of  a  wall, 
built  of  krge  hewn  stones,  crosses  the  road  wo  are 
following ;  and,  a  little  further  on,  we  como  up  to  a 
rivulet,  nmning  directly  from  east  to  west.  This  rivulet 
seems  to  issue  front  a  cleft  in  tlic  mountain,  ciilled  the 
0«ad-e8-Seib&a  (the  valley  of  the  lions),  which,  from  this 
dislaiico.  closely  resembles  a  crater.  It  lies  about  fifteen 
hundred  yards  oif  to  our  left. 

As  soon  as  we  have  crossed  the  rindet,  by  twenty 
minutes  past  nine,  we  march  dii'cctly  west  along  its  bank, 
and  take  our  course  almunt  immediately  south-west.  Home 
niinutes  after,  the  ledge  descends  again  abru[)tly  to  another 
shelf;  and  by  five-and-twenty  minutes  past  nine  wo  cross 
a  dry  water-coiu^'.  To  our  left  is  a  round  hillock,  upon 
which  more  ruins  appear.     By  twenty-nix  minutes  |)aat 


SdCOaeSION   or   BXTENfilVF.   RUINfl. 


413 


I 
I 


I 


nine  we  pass  another  ravine,  witli  a  rockj  bottom,  beyond 
wUich  a  plain  opens,  covered  witli  rubbisli.  Amongst  the 
heai)8  we  descry,  first,  a  large  circular  ruin,  situated  to  the 
left  of  the  road.  An  interval  of  fifty  yards  divides  it  from 
another  ruin,  looking  southward,  and  wliich  is  itself  sepa- 
rated, by  a  distance  of  about  a  hundred  yards,  from  a 
third  ruin  of  the  'Same  description.  A  fourth  ruiu  is 
sitiLited  one  hundred  yards  westward  of  the  first. 

The  mountains  are  at  least  two  thousand  yards  distant 
on  our  left,  and  their  foot  is  strewed  with  sandy  hillocks, 
beginning  at  about  fifteen  hundi'ed  yards  from  our  road. 
By  thirty-six  minutes  past  nine  wo  have  turned  Bonth- 
irest,  moving  along  sandy  hillocks,  situated  some  hundred 
yards  off  to  our  right.  To  our  left  is  a  hill  witli  ruins, 
and  a  ravine  at  its  foot.  This  ravine  intersects  our  road. 
By  forty  minutes  past  nine  it  forms  the  limit  of  the 
extensive  ruinn  we  have  for  some  time  been  pajfising 
through.  Beyond  appears  the  range  of  sandy  hillockSj 
which  may  almost  he  mistaken  for  heaps  of  ashes.  We 
keep  ou  ad\'anciug  through  this,  and  soon  after  tljo  road 
sweeps  ronnd  a  neck  of  land  between  two  defiles.  By 
forty-five  minutes  past  nine  this  neck  is  forty  yarrU  broad, 
bat  it  narrows  rapidly  ;  and  by  forty-nine  iniimtes  past 
nine  it  is  only  eight  or  ten  yards  broad  at  the  iitmost. 
By  a  quarter  to  ten  we  are  in  front  of  the  northern 
extremity  of  a  dark -coloured  mountain,  nmch  dislocated, 
behind  which  is  another  extensive  crater,  which  it  conceals. 
Our  road  then  lies  westward  by  south. 

Here  again  appear  numerous  streaks  of  small  brown 
calcined  stones,  forming  oblong  spots  turned  tow-irda  the 
crater  of  the  Ouad-ea-ScibSa.  By  fifty  minutes  past  nine 
we  find,  twenty  yards  off  to  our  right,  a  hillock,  beyond 


«14 


8ITR   OF   P«)II)IKH    BNC&I 


vhicit  WO  iliscovcr.  at  a  further  dbtjuice  of  abont  a  haiidred 
yanls,  another  crater,  witli  its  siilca  deeply  rent  and 
furrowed,  and  tlic  strata  of  which  ii  is  otHoposed  viaWj 
uplifted  and  thrown  promiscuously  tn  all  directions. 

Dy  exanlly  ten  o'clock  wo  halt  on  this  side  of  the  ra 
which  wo  have  been  flanking  on  our  \efl  for  tlie  last  qnarter 
of  an  hour,  and  which  crosses  our  road  at  this  point.  We 
hapten  to  despatch  our  abstemious  breakfjist,  and  tnouot 
our  horses  again.  By  twenty-two  minutes  past  ten  we 
resume  our  march,  croetsing  the  ravine  before  us.  Beyond 
it,  the  whole  ground  is  covered  with  grey  sandy  htllodca. 
tlirough  which  we  thread  our  way.  On  the  largest  of  tlicse 
hillocks,  being  the  first  wo  cross  on  our  left,  immediately 
aflcr  liaviug  passed  the  ravine,  is  a  very  distinguishable 
ruin.  We  thence  march  south -south-west.  By  thirty-fire 
minutes  past  ten  we  cross  the  bed  of  another  ravine, 
which  forms  the  coatinufltion  of  our  road.  By  thirty- 
nine  minutes  past  ten  we  incline  a  little  westward ;  and 
at  length,  at  forty  miimles  fiast  ten,  emerge  fn)m  the  sandy 
hillocks,  issuing  upon  a  plain,  covered  with  acacias,  whidi 
wo  immediately  recognise.  Wc  are  here  [)reci8ely  opposite 
the  southern  flank  of  the  peninsula. 

By  forty-seven  minutes  pa.st  ten  wo  march  due  south 
through  thickets,  until  we  reach  a  small  Bandy  plain  ;  and 
by  exactly  eleven  o'clock  wo  find  ourselves  once  more  on 
the  site  whore,  on  tlie  Utii  instant  (.lanuary),  the  Boconil 
encamjimont  of  the  Beni-Sakhars  was  established,  and  in 
the  midst  of  which  wo  had  pitched  our  own  tcnta.  It  ii 
now  s  naked  sjiot ;  everything  in  the  KhGr — reeds  and 
bushes  included— has  boon  devoured  by  the  cattle  ;  and 
the  Boni-Sakhars  have  sought  another  dwelling-place. 
We  follriw  their  example,  and  continue  marching  on  by  tJie 


( 


A    IIDHMINO-BIBD  SHOT. 


41& 


nrsi 


I 


I 


mme  rond  on  wliicVi  wc   travelled  before,  and  in   the 
direction  of  the  first  enmmpment  of  January  13th. 

As  sooti  an  wo  hai'u  reached  the  Rht'ir-Hifieh,  we  keep 
closer  ioland,  towards  the  mountain,  than  wo  did  on  our 
first  paaaage  through  the  comitrv ;  and,  instead  of  pro* 

ding  to  halt  at  the  same  spot  where  we  had  jMtched  our 
teiitK  before  wo  establish  oin-solvos  close  to  a  Bedouin 
encampment,  which  we  had  then  only  observed  from  a 
disUuice.  Tliis  encampmcut  Ucs  seven  hundred  yards 
eftBt-north-east  from  the  first.  On  reaching  the  place.  1 
discover,  six  huudred  yards  off,  to  the  nortli-cast  from  the 
spot  where  we  halt,  additional  and  considerable  rutus  ;  1 
immediately  inquire  their  name,  but  they  havo  none.  The 
liedoxiins  only  recognise  them  as  the  niiiis  of  liabitations 
of  the  olden  timo.  Their  knowledge  extends  to  no 
particulars. 

At  last  wo  hare  arrived  in  a  friendly  country.  Nothing 
now  remains  hut  to  clear  the  Sabkhah,  and,  that  done,  wo 
shall  have  bravely  accomplished  the  important  task  we 
had  undertaken. 

To-day,  for  the  first  time.  Papigny  has  brought  do«-n 
one  of  the  beautiful  little  humming-birds,  fluttering 
amongst  the  acacias.  I  consider  this  au  acquisition  too 
Talnable  not  to  take  possession  of  it.  I  make  the  claim 
unhesitatingly  in  the  name  of  science,  and  the  prize  is 
given  up  by  general  consent.  Papigoy,  despoiled  of  his 
conquest,  is  now  intent  on  procuring  another,  to  replace 
the  tressare  I  have  taken  fi'om  him  ;  the  consequence  is, 
that,  during  the  whole  nuirch.  he  has  been  running  on  the 
flanks  of  thu  caravan,  pursuing  tlicse  httlo  birds  from  tree 
to  tree,  without  obtaining  a  sucoeraful  shot  His  sporting 
frenzy  seems  to  aniioy  our  worthy  Scheikhs,  who  have 


4M 


RVnre  OP   ZK80IIM. 


eaatioiiecl  tno  several  time«t  that  it  is  exceedingly  impra- 
deot  to  scray  in  this  manner  from  the  main  body  of  iha 
cararan.  Although  1  am  sufficiently  inclined  to  beliera 
in  real  dangers,  still,  1  liare  some  douhts  that  the  ubjectioiu 
of  our  Arabs  may  also  be  partly  produced  by  tlie  forced 
delays  which  these  in'Cj^lar  excursions  entail  on  oar 
general  progress.  When  on  the  march,  the  sole  object  cif 
an  Arab  is  to  reach  the  encamjiing  ground  as  soon  ss 
possible,  and  he  cannot  understand  why  any  one  should 
lose  a  minute  in  running  after  &  little  bird,  gathering  a 
flower,  and  picking  up  au  insect  or  a  pebble.  In  his 
opinion,  the  man  who  siiuanders  his  time  after  this  fashion, 
is  cither  a  ^aicim  or  a  meidjnoun,  a  sage  (meaning  a 
physician)  or  a  fool. 

It  appears  that  the  rain  by  which  wc  were  caught  last 
night  at  the  encampment  of  the  Nahr-ed-Di-aa,  has  proved 
exceedingly  disagreeable  to  the  scorpions,— turning  them 
out  of  their  usual  hiding-piaoes ;  the  poor  creatures  are 
driven  to  seek  for  refuge  anywhere ;  and  on  unpacking 
our  camp  cots,  to  arrange  them  in  our  teuts,  our  petals 
find  A  number  of  them,  moHt  hkely  much  annoyed  at  being 
disturbed  again.  To-nigttt  wc  purpose  a  narrow  im>pcctioii 
of  our  beds,  before  we  venture  to  lay  down. 

Throughout  the  day  wc  have  paasod  considerable  niins, 
situated  witliiii  a  sliort  distance  of  enormous  craters.  To 
what  ancient  town  do  they  belong  %  At  preeeot  I  find  it 
very  difficult  to  gness.  As  I  am  always  looking  for 
Gomorrah,  I  imagine  at  first  that  the  niins  wc  have  just 
visited  are  those  of  that  city,  and  the  significant  name  of 
Sebiian  scarcely  suffices  to  open  my  eyes.  1  have  already 
aaid,  when  speaking  of  En-Nemalreh,  that  it  was  only  at 

tatflr  period  tJiat  I  recognised  in  this  place  Zeboiim 


PAttTllfB   OI?TS. 


417 


I 


vhen,  without  any  possible  doubt,  t  had  Found  OomorrAli 
towards  the  uortheni  point  of  iJio  Dead  Soa. 

Our  evening  ha.s  been  occupied  in  naming  and  arrang- 
ing plants,  insects,  and  pobbica  picked  up  in  great  quantities 
in  the  lihur-Safieh,  and  in  laying  down  my  map  with 
Indian  ink.  We  have  paid  our  Bcni-Siikhar  Scbeikhs  the 
balance  we  owed  them  ;  but  we  by  no  means  deceive  our- 
selves, and  are  quite  sure  that  to-morrow  morning  they 
will  ask  us  for  an  additional  IjaktiFthish. 

Now  tliat  their  purses  are  well  ropleniflbed,  the  Hcheiklis 
have  bat  one  tliought,  that  of  purchasing  arms.  Mattoo 
carries  a  wide-mouthed  pistol,  of  an  extraordinary  shape, 
and  Samet-AIy  is  longing  to  become  the  happy  possessor 
of  this  weapon,  llo  plagues  Mattoo  throughout  the  whole 
of  the  evening  to  induce  hira  to  part  with  it.  As  soon  as 
I  hearof  thU  negotiation,  1  warn  Mattoo  that  I  will  mmlf 
purcliasc  his  pistol,  but  that  the  Schoikh  must  not  bo  told 
of  it  The  pistol  la  downright  lumber,  and  I  pay  a 
hundred  piastres  for  it ;  but,  no  matter,  to-morrow  I  shall 
make  my  man  tlie  happiest  and  proudest  of  Scheikhs. 

This  creuiug  the  weather  has  become  particuhu-Iy 
cloudy,  and  the  rain  be^pns  to  fall  almost  immediately 
ailor  sunset.  During  the  first  houru,  and  until  the  canvas 
of  our  tents  had  become  sullicicntly  saturated  to  swell, 
and  throw  the  water  off  on  the  exterior  suriaee,  we  were 
drenched  in  the  most  disagreeable  manner.  But  we 
wrapped  ourselves  closely  under  our  blankets,  and  fell  fast 
asleep,  leaving  the  storm  to  take  its  natural  course. 

January  Ziml. 

The  night  has  been  a  dreadful  one :  squnlls  of  rain  have 
followed  each  other  in  constant  succession,  ellen  disturb- 
ing our  repose,   and  keeping  us  awake  with  anxious 


vol.  L 


41S 


THE   LAND   Of   MOAB. 


antic! patioiiH  uf  tlie  Sabkbali,  wliicli  wo  mast  cross  ns 
aooii  iLS  pos.sible,  unless  we  citooso  u>  be  detaioed,  during 
perhaps  a  whole  mouth,  in  (he  Ith6r-Safieh. 

Now  that  we  have  traversed  the  land  of  Moab  in  its  full 
extent,  let  us  [Mtuse  a  moment  to  identify,  if  possible,  the 
modern  names  of  the  nuns,  the  position  of  which  we  have 
determined  oa  our  rout«,  with  the  names  transmitted  to 
us  hy  the  sacred  and  prolnno  writers  of  antiquity  ;  but,  in 
tlie  first  plaoe,  let  us  recapitulate,  in  the  shortest  possible 
Aummary,  the  liistory  of  the  orij^itial  iuhabitantA. 

Wo  learn  from  Genesis  (xix.  37)  that  Moab  was  bom 
of  the  incest  that  took  place  between  Lot  and  hia  eldest 
daughter.  After  the  catastrophe  of  the  Pentapolis,  th» 
lloabitos,  his  descendants,  obtained  possession  of  the 
eastern  shore  of  the  Dead  Sea,  and  the  vast  extent  of 
elevated  country  by  which  it  is  commanded,  expelling 
from  thence  the  Kmims  ;  for  we  read  iu  the  Bible  :* — 
9.  "  And  the  Lord  said  unto  me  :  Distress  not  the  Moabites, 
neither  contend  with  them  in  battle,  for  I  will  not  girc 
thee  of  their  land  for  a  possession,  because  I  have  given 
Ar  unto  tlie  children  of  Lot  for  a  jiosseasion."  10.  "The 
Eminis  dwell  therein  in  times  past,  a  people  great  and 
many,  and  tall  as  the  Anakims  ;  "  11.  "^Miich  also  were 
accounted  giants,  as  the  Anakims,  but  the  Aioabttes  call 
them  Emims."  It  may  be  conjectured  tliat  these  two 
rerses,  10  and  1 1,  as  well  as  the  12th,  are  but  a  marginal 
comment  {posterior  to  the  Book  of  Moses  itself),  which 
has  become  interpolated  with  the  sacred  text ;  for  tliese 
three  verses,  mentioning  the  Judaic  conquest  as  if  it  were 
already  achieved,  contravene  the  command  given  by  the 
Almighty  to  Moses.     At  all  events,  it  appears  certain  that 

*  IVuMwMinr,  IL 


LAND  OF    MOAl 


I 


» 
^ 


t)ic  Biaiins,  origiiia,!  inhabitants  of  the  countiy,  were 
expelled,  and  succeeded  by  the  race  descended  fi-om  Lot 
and  Ms  son  Moab. 

The  Ammonites,  brothers  of  the  Moabites  throngh 
Ammon.  son  of  Lot.  and  his  yomigcr  daughter,  estabhahed 
themselves  lifcewiae  on  the  eastern  shore  of  the  Dead  Sea 
and  of  the  Jordan,  but  more  to  the  eastward  than  the 
Moabites.  Those  last,  after  having  spread  their  dominion 
as  far  as  the  banks  of  the  Yabbok.  opposite  Jericho,  were 
driven  batik  by  the  Ammonites  beyond  the  Arnon  (Onad- 
el-Moudjeb),  which  became  the  nortlicru  limit  of  the 
J[oabitic  conntry.  Such  it  was  already,  when  the 
Israelites,  coming  from  Egypt,  arrived  on  its  frontiers. 
We  read  accordingly  in  Numbers  (xxi) :  13."  Prom 
thcucc  tlicy  (the  Israelites)  removed,  and  pitched  on  the 
other  side  of  Arnon,  which  is  in  the  wilderness  that 
eometb  out  of  the  coasts  of  the  Amorites,  for  Arnon  is 
the  border  of  Jtoab,  between  Afoab  and  the  Amorites." 
14.  "  Wherefore  it  is  said,  in  the  book  of  the  wars  of  the 
Lord,  what  he  did  in  the  Red  Sea  and  in  the  brooks  of 
Anion." 

This  second  verso,  as  translated,  is  unlnteiligible.  What 

does  the  Hebrew  word  oimhab  mean  ?     No  one  can  tell. 

In  Arabic   i_,j^    (ouahah)   means  to  give,  to  grant,  to 

concede.     Perhaps  this  verse  ought  to  be  reinlered  thus  : 

— "  Wherefore  it  is  said,  in  the  book  of  the  wars  of  the 

Lord,  what  he  granted  in  the  Rod  Sea  and  in  the  brooks 

of  the  Arnon."    The  object  of  the  verse  being  then  to 

determine  the  limits  of  the  hmd  given  to  the  children  of 

Moab.  which  land  began  at  a  place  called  Sou/ah  (the 

Red  Sea),  and  ended  at  the  Arnon.     Of  course,  I  do  not 

mean  to  assume  that  this  explanation  is  incontrovertible ; 

■  as 


4t0 


eCBin'URAl.   BBrRRKNCRt. 


1  sliaU  only  observe  Uial  if,  in  tlic  iiaine  Soufak,  vre 
were  to  recogiiiao  a  place  in  the  neiglibonrhood  of  tlio 
DjcbcI-c&*Soi(/<iA,  which  mountain  is  actaially  lying  to  the 
south  of  the  Ouad-ez-Koucra.  and  to  the  south-west  of  the 
DjehcI-oI-Melehh.  the  verse  jiist  quoted  would  then  givfl 
correctly  the  «outlicm  and  norllicm  limits  of  the  country, 
properly  calletl  the  land  of  the  Monbitos;  for  Zouera,  or 
Zoar,  was  pusitively  withui  tluit  boundary.  This  is  clearly 
demonstrated  by  tJie  commentary  of  St.  Jerome,"  in  which 
we  read  this  passage :  Segor  in  finibm  MoabUarum  sita 
esi,  dhidens  ab  tis  terram  PhUistiim. 

But  let  US  leave  as  quickly  as  wc  can  this  dangoroas 
ground  of  surmises  and  hypotheses,  merely  observing, 
bo«evor,  that  the  tenor  uf  the  following  venw,  I5tfa, 
"And  at  the  stream  of  the  brook»  that  gofih  dotcn  to  tA/f 
dwelling  of  A  r,  and  lieth  upon  IJie  border  of  Afoot," 
seems  to  complete  the  entire  bouudary  of  the  land  of 
Moab.  by  defining  its  castoni  frontier. 

The  progress  of  the  Israelites  towards  the  oonfmea  of 
Moab.  is  perfectly  laid  down  and  described  in  tlie  llook  of 
Judges  (xi.  17,  18)  :  "  And  in  like  manner  they  (Israel) 
sent  unto  the  King  of  Moab,  hut  ho  would  not  consent, 
and  Israel  abode  in  Kadasli  (to  the  south  of  the  country 
of  Canaan)."  "18.  And  they  went  along  through  the 
wilderness,  and  compassed  the  land  of  K<lom  ami  the  land 
of  Iif  oab,  and  came  by  the  east  side  of  Uic  land  of  Moab, 
and  pitched  on  the  other  side  of  Amon,  but  came  not 
within  the  border  of  Moab,  for  Arnon  was  the  border  of 
Jdoab."  From  this  verse,  compared  with  those  1  have 
just  fiuoted,  it  appears  that,  the  valley  of  the  Amon, 
after    having    covered    the    northern    boundary    of  tlie 


I 


•    Ad.    J-.    IT. 


SCBIITl?B.)L  BI1FBBRKCB0. 


^ 


^ 


Moabitiu  country,  iucliiitid  iit  to  the  southwaix],  no  as  to 
cover  likewise  ita  eastern  frontier.  This  is  prcciselv  the 
i-a»u  with  tlio  Oniid-cI-Moudjeb,  the  identity  of  which 
with  the  valley  of  the  Arnon  is  univci-sally  admitted. 

I  have  stated  that,  aecoi-diug  to  tho  Book  of  Nunibei-s, 
when  the  Israelites  first  made  their  appeoi-aiico,  the 
Anion  divided  tlie  country  of  the  Moabitea  from  that  of 
the  AmoriteB.  Thin  was  owing  to  the  circumstajice.  that 
all  the  country  to  the  northward,  between  the  Arnon  and 
the  Yabbok,  had  beou  taken  by  tho  Araorites  from  the 
Itluabiles,  previously  to  the  arrival  of  Moscu  on  tho  banks 
of  the  Anion.  This  conquest  was  of  very  recent  occur- 
rence, for  we  read  in  Nmnbors  (.\xi.  26)  :  "  For  Ileshhon 
was  the  city  of  Sihoii,  the  King  of  the  Amoritcs.  who  Lad 
fought  agiuiifit  the  former  King  of  Moab,  oud  taken  all 
Ills  Und  out  of  his  hand,  even  nnto  Anion." 

According  to  the  Hebraic  text,  tliis  expedition  of  Sihou 
extended  to  Ar,  the  capital  of  the  Moabilcs  :*  but  the 
Samaritan  text,  and  tho  Greek  version  of  tho  Septuag^tit, 
both  alike  read  v4r«o«  instead  of  ^r,  ami  so  it  becomes 
probable  that  the  Amoritc  conquest  stopped  at  the  banks 
of  the  Arnon.  Be  that  as  it  may.  Sihon,  KingofHesh- 
boii,  Iiaving  refused  the  Israehtes  a  passage  through  the 
country  situated  between  the  Arnon  and  the  Yabbok, 
wa«  fiercely  attacked,  and  beaten  by  thcni  at  Jiiliaz ;+ 
lifter  which  hb  towns  were  sacked,  and  all  their  inhabit- 
ants, men,  women,  and  cliildren,  put  to  the  sword.J 

The  King  of  Moab  was  then  Balak,  the  son  of  Zippor ; 
bo  it  wa.s  who,  not  daring  to  oppose  in  arms  the  paJisage 
of    the    Israelites,    sent  for    Balaam   to  curse  them — a 


•  NumUn^  KtLi&.  f  thnilvruiwuij, li. 31 

;  neutonuuauy,  il.  94. 


4£« 


SCHinUUAL  UeFKKBMUSS. 


proceeding  wbicii  turned  out  to  bU  owu  coufuaioD.  Id  Om 
uuruculoua  recital,*  a  town  is  nientioneil  hy  the  name  of 
KirjaUi-huitotli  (xxii.  39),  &a  beiiig  tlic  place  frum  wliicfa 
the  first  blessing  of  Balaam  was  sent  forth.  Was  it  a 
town  of  Moab,  pro[>erl^  so  called  t  Thiii  appears  doubtful ; 
for  the  seoond  and  third  spots  to  which  Balak  led  Balaam, 
in  the  liope  that  from  tliODCO  lie  might  send  fortli  against 
Israel  imprecations  instead  of  blessings,  are,  iu  the  finit 
instance,  tJie  summit  of  Mount  Fesgah  (the  Pisgah  of  the 
translators  ;i)  and  next,  the  summit  of  Mount  Kaour  (the 
Poor  or  Pliegor  of  the  translators) — mountains  that  are 
positively  situated  hevond  the  true  limits  of  the  MoalHtic 
country. 

We  then  lose  eight  of  the  Moabites  ap  to  the  period 
when,  a  little  more  than  half  a  century  after  the  death  of 
Joshua,  tliis  people,  with  the  assistance  of  the  Ammonites 
and  of  the  AmHlckitcs,  succeeded  in  Bubdiiing  tko  Israel- 
ites, who  remained  eighteen  years  under  Uie  dominion  of 
Adjlouu  (the  Bgtun  of  the  translators),  King  of  Moab. 
At  the  end  of  these  eighteen  years,  Ahouad-ben-Djcn{ 
(tho  Ehud,  son  of  Gera,  of  the  translators),  murdered 
King  Adjloun  in  the  town  of  the  Palra-trecs  (Jericho  1), 
having  come  from  the  stone-quarrioe  in  tlie  neighbourhood 
of  Ile^ljeljal  (Gilgal),  to  solicit  a  private  audience  from 
the  princu.§ 

Ahouad,  having  succeeded  iu  mtinlcriug  the  king, 
contrived  to  escape  by  the  stone-quarries  in  the  direction 
of  Seirath,  assembled  the  Hebrews  on  the  mountains  of 
Ephraim,  nished  down  into  the  plain,  where  he  obtained 

*  .ViUQboir,  x»i.  iiiii.  t  Nmalj«r«,  xiiii.  I(. 

t  ThU  ttuaa,  XlmutA.  it  nill  vttrj   namiaaa  ■luoag   (b>  Anbi.      Wa   ma; 
hmuUod,  h  u  iDBtADcr,  th4  ncpboo'  of  llundui,  SchaJkh  uf  lli*  Tliiaiinru. 


I 


flOBIPTDBAL   REfERBNORa 


» 
^ 


^ 


^ 

^ 
^ 


possessktu  of  the  fords  of  the  Jordau,  and,  the  retreat  of 
die  Moabitcs  being  thus  cut  off,  he  alaiiglitered  ten 
thousand  of  them. 

In  the  days  of  Saul,  the  Moabites  appear  again  amongst 
the  nations  at  wm"  with  the  Hobi-e»-s, — for  we  read  :* 
"  Saul  took  tlie  kingdom  over  Israel,  and  fought  against 
all  his  enemies,  on  every  side,  against  Moah,  and  against 
the  children  of  Ammon,  and  against  Edoni,  and  against 
the  Kings  of  Zobah,  and  against  the  Philistines :  and 
whithersoever  he  turned  himself,  he  vexed  thcin." 

At  a  still  Uter  j>eriod,  Dand  subdued  and  compelled 
them  to  pay  him  tribute :  t  "  And  he  smote  Moab,  and 
measured  them  with  a  line,  casting  them  down  to  the 
ground  ;  even  with  two  lines  meRsured  he  to  put  to 
death,  and  with  one  full  line  to  keep  alive.  And  BO  the 
ifoabites  became  David's  servants,  and  brought  gifts." 
This  verse  mcuiis  probabt;>-  that,  amongst  the  Illoabitic 
prisoners,  all  those  whose  size  exceeded  tlie  interval 
between  two  ropes  stretched  along  the  ground,  and 
between  which  they  were  compelled  to  lay  down  at  their 
length,  were  put  to  death  ;  whilst  all  those  whose  size  waa 
found  below  the  mark  were  spared,  and  allowed  to  Hva 

After  the  death  of  Solomon,  and  when  the  rerolt  of  the 
ton  tribes  had  taken  place,  the  Moabites  became  tribu- 
taries to  the  Kings  of  Israel  ;  for  wo  read: — "MoabJ 
rebelled  against  Israel  after  the  death  of  Ahab.''  The 
King  of  Moab's  name  was  then  Me,slia,  and  the  annual 
tribute  which  he  had  to  pay  was  *'  one  hundred  thousand 
iambs,  and  one  hundred  thousand  rams  with  the  wool." 

Jchorau).§  having  succeeded  his  father  Ahab  on  the 


•  I  Samud.  sir.  4T. 
t  2  Kiugt,  i.  I. 


f  S  Sani'Kt,  viii.  S. 
f  'i  KiDg*,  lii.  I, 


*H 


SCBIITURAL   BSriRSSOIM. 


throne  of  Samaria,  hastened  to  invite  Jehoethaphat,  King 
of  Ju(Iah,  tt>  assist  him  in  an  expedition  against  the 
Moabitcs.  The  two  monarctis  planned  together  to  attack 
their  common  enemj*  bj  passing  through  the  Deeert  of 
Bdom,*  the  king  of  that  country  having  also  formed  an 
alliance  with  them.  The  scarcity  of  water,  afler  seTeo 
da^-s'  march,  was  near  catising  the  destruction  of  the 
allied  armies  ;  but  the  prophet  Elisha  came  to  their 
assintance  ;  the  valleys  weru  filled  with  water  from 
Heaven  ;  and  the  Moahitei).  having  imprudenllv  ex- 
posed themselves  to  an  attack,  were  overthrown,  and 
mercilessly  slaughtered ;  their  cities  were  destroyed,  tbe 
cultivated  lands  covered  with  stones,  Uie  cisterns  choked 
up,  the  trees  cut  down  ;  and  the  m(^  of  Kir-Iveraaa( 
(Kir-hara»eth)  commenced  with  slings. 

The  King  of  Moab,  at  the  head  of  aeven  hundred  men. 
made  a  sortie  in  tlie  direction  of  the  camp  of  the  Edom- 
itcs,  but  was  repulsed.  In  this  extremity,  ho  conceived 
the  horrible  idea  of  offering  his  eMest  son  as  a  sacrifice 
on  the  wall  of  the  town.  The  ^[oahitcs  then,  acized  with 
horror,  redoubled  their  exertions  against  the  assaiknl^ 
and  compelled  them  to  rotire-f 

This  interpretation  of  the  two  Tcrsc3  jiist  quoted,  is  not 
the  only  apparent  one,  or  rather  I  should  say,  not  the  one 
most  likely  to  be  correct.  The  text  will  permit  us  to 
suppose  that  the  King  of  Monh,  having  failed  in  his  sally 
to  seize  tbe  person  of  the  King  of  Edom,  succcodod  ia 
capturing  his  eldest  son,  whom  he  offered  as  a  bumt- 
offering  to  his  gods,  on  the  walls  of  Kii^hanuseth.  This 
vcmion,  which  is  not  new,  has  the  addttioiml  advantage  of 
expLiining  a  ix-umrkablc  passage  of  the  prophet  Ai 

•  2  King*.  M-S.  1 1  KJu«^  BL  It,  ST. 


SCBIPTintAL   KBPKR8KCBS. 


4SS 


(u.  1)  :  "  TUiis  saitii  the  Ijord  ;  for  three  tratiEgregskma  of 
S(oab,  and  for  four,  I  will  not  tura  away  the  puniahnient 
tlicrcof :  because  he  hurned  the  bones  of  the  King  of 
Edom  into  lime."     "  2.  But  I  will  send  a  fire  upon  Moab, 

'  and  it  shall  devour  the  palaces  of  Kiriotfa  :  and  Hoab 
shall  die  with  tumult,  with  shouting,  and  with  the  5ound 
of  the  tnimpet"  "3.  And  I  will  cut  off  the  judge  from 
the  midst  thereof,  and  will  slay  all  tlio  prlncfs  thereof 
with  hirn,  saith  the  Lord."  It  would  be  difflcidt  uot  to 
recogniae  the  same  fact  iu  the  verse  of  the  Book  of  Kings, 
and  in  that  of  Amos. 

The  Book  of  Chronicles*  gives  us  a  detailed  narrative 
of  an  expedition  of  the  Moabites  against  Jehush.ipliat, 
King  of  Judali.  The  Ammonites  wcim;  then  mardiiiig 
with  the  Moabites  :  .  .  .  "  2.  Then  there  came  some 
that  told  Juboshaphat,  saying.  There  coraoth  a  great 
miUtitude  against  tbee,  fi-om  beyond  the  sea  (evidently 
the  Dead  Sea),  on  tliis  side  Syria,  from  Aram  (most  likely 
the  text  is  not  property  spelt,  and  it  ought  to  ho 
read  Edom  instead  of  Aram)  ;  and  behold,  they  be  in 
Hnzaxon-tamar,  which  is  En-gedi."  "3.  And  Jehoshapliat 
feared,  and  set  tiimsolf  to  seek  the  Lord,  and  proclaimed 
a  fast  throughout  all  Judah."  His  prayer  wa«  heard. 
Jahazic),  seized  with  the  prophetic  spirit,  predicted  that 
Jutlah  would  not  have  to  struggle  with  the  approaching 
foe,    and   that   God    Iiiuisclf  would    fight    the    battle  : 

[  "  16.  To-morrow,  go  ye  down  against  them  ;  behold,  tliey 
jire  come  up  by  the  cliff  of  Ziz  ;  and  ye  slmll  find  them 
at  the  end  of  the  brook,  before  the  wilderness  of  Jcruol." 
As  the  prophet  had  foretold,  a  spirit  of  madness  came 
upon  the  invading  army;  the  Moabites  and  Aimnouitus 

*  ^  CbrDDJclcB  XX.  2,  S.  IS. 


4M 


SOBirrURAt   Rl 


foil  upon  the  Humeans  of  the  moimtain  of  Seir,  uc 
destroji'ed  thorn  ;  tiion  they  tunicd  their  aniu  against 
tbomaulves,  aitd  destroyed  each  other.  Duriog  three  dajB 
the  suhjects  of  Jehoshaphat  wore  occupied  in  dcspoiliug 
the  dead.  On  the  fourth  (Uty  they  a88emhle<l  in  a  choMO 
valley,  to  returu  thauks  to  the  Lord ;  and  this  ralley  was 
caUod  ever  after  the  val/et/  of  t/m  Uessinff.  This  ereot 
resulted  from  the  expedition  of  the  Kings  of  Israel  and 
Judah  HgaJnst  the  Moabttcs.  When  Ihceo  princes  w«« 
compelled  to  retreat,  it  Boems  more  than  probable  that 
King  Mcsha,  aller  having  been  tlie  assailed,  became  th« 
assailant 

We  read  again,  in  the  Book  of  Kings  :*  "And  Elisha 
died,  and  ihcy  buried  him.  Aud  the  bauds  of  the  3ioab- 
ites  inraded  the  land  at  the  coming  in  of  the  year." 
Joash  wa^i  then  Kiug  of  Israel,  aud  the  country  mentioned 
in  tlie  verse  jiist  quoted  vas  tlie  kingdom  over  which  h« 
reigned. 

When  the  tribes  of  Reuben  and  Gad,  and  the  balf-(ribe 
of  Mauassch,  had  been  driven  away  into  a^itivity  by  Pul 
and  Tilgath-Pilneser.t  Kings  of  Assyria,  the  country 
lying  between  the  Amou  and  the  Yabbok  was,  it  seems, 
again  taken  possession  of  by  the  Moabites ;  for  Isaiah  end 
Jeremiah,  proplusiying  against  the  rac«  of  Moab,  mention, 
as  towns  belonging  to  this  people,  some  tliat  were  most 
certainly  situated  within  the  country  conquered  from  the 
Ammonites  by  the  Hebrews. 

A  very  long  time  after,  the  Moabites  appear  again  hi 
the  army  of  Nebuchadnezzar,  as  the  alhes  of  the  Chal* 
deans.  So  we  read  in  2  Kmgs  (xxiv.  2):  "And  the 
Lord  sent  against  him  (that  is  to  say,  against  Jehoiakim, 

•  1  Kiog^  iju.  30.  t  I  Cbroniclw,  v.  SC 


SCHIPTUBAL   UEFBRRircE& 


♦27 


I 


I 


Kiiig  of  Judab)  bands  of  the  CItalJccs,  aii*l  bandH  of  the 
Syrians,  and  bnnda  of  the  Moabitea,  and  bands  of  the 
children  of  Animon,  and  sent  them  i^ioat  Judah  to 
destroy  it,  according  to  the  won!  of  tlie  Lord,  which  be 
epake  by  bia  servants  the  prophota." 

JosephiLs  infomis  QS  *  that  this  allianco  of  the 
Chaldeans  with  tho  Uoabites  was  of  no  long  duration  ; 
for,  in  the  fifth  year  after  the  sack  of  Jerusalem,  being 
the  twenty-third  yenr  of  tlio  reigii  of  Nebuchatlnezzar, 
this  monarch  invaded  Syria ;  after  bavuig  couqnei'cd  it, 
be  assailed  the  Ammonites  and  the  Moahites,  whom  he 
also  subdued,  and  then  mai'cbed  against  EgypL  This  is 
most  likely  tlie  expedition  which  had  been  announced  by 
the  terrible  prophecies  of  Isaiali,  Jeremiah,  and  Zephauiah. 
The  Koabitea  were  then  driven  oft'  into  captivity,  as  had 
been  foretold  by  these  same  pro}>hecies. 

In  the  Book  of  Daniel  (xi.  41)  we  read :  "  He  (the 
King  of  the  North,  Alexander  the  Great)  shall  enter  also 
into  the  glorious  land,  and  many  countries  shall  be  over- 
thrown, but  these  sbaU  escape  out  of  his  hand,  even 
Edom,  and  Moab,  and  the  chief  of  the  children  of 
Ammon."  Profane  history  corroborates  the  fact,  thftt 
the  Macedonian  conqueror  did  not  disturb  the  Moabites. 

AJcxander  Jannieus,  if  we  follow  Josephus  (xiii.  3.  5), 
subdued  the  Moahites  and  the  Galaadites,  i/'Afi  are 
Ara&s  (according  to  the  Jewish  historian),  and  imposed 
tribute  upon  them  ;  notwithstanding  which,  a  short  time 
after  he  suftered  at  their  hands  a  signal  defeat,  from  wliich 
he  barely  escaped  with  life.  His  adversaries  were  then 
the  Arabs,  who.  under  the  guidance  of  their  King  Obeda, 
struggled  during  six  years  against  the  Jewish  monarch. 


*  Ant  Jud.,x.X,T. 


us 


THR   LAND   OP   MOAB. 


and  occasioned  turn  ii  loss  oT  firtjf  iKousatid  men.  Tbia ' 
war,  ucvcrtbeless,  pUcoit  in  ttie  tuuids  of  Alexander 
Jann:eus  tnclro  towns,  which  ho  suococdcd  in  cou(]acrn]g 
from  these  same  Arabs.  Joeephus  gircs  ua  the  names 
<^  Uie  towns  *  Medaha,  Naba]lo,  Livias,  Tfaarabosa, 
Agnlla,  Athoiie.  Zonro,  Oroncc,  Marissa,  Rydda,  Laan, 
and  Orvba.  Wo  kIuUI  have  occasion  presentljp'  tx>  refer  to 
this  important  evidoncc.  It  seems  moat  probable  that 
thew  are  the  events  referred  to  in  the  prophecy  of 
Zcplianiah  (iL  9) :  "  Surely  Moab  shall  be  as  Sodom,  aiicl 
the  children  of  Ammou  as  Gomorrah  :  even  the  breeding 
of  nettles,  and  salt  pits  and  a  perpetual  desolation  ;  the 
rc»duc  of  my  people  shall  spoil  tliem,  and  iJio  remnant  of  i 
my  people  shall  i>os8es3  them." 

Prom  thenceforth  the  name  of  the  Hoabites  as  an 
independent  people  disappears,  and  is  lost  in  that  of  tlie 
Arab  race,  uritJi  whom  the  posterity  of  iloofa  becomes 
completely  mixed  up.  The  Roman  conquests  spread 
over  the  land  of  Moab  during  Hiu  perpetual  struggles 
between  the  Arabs  and  the  empire,  and  the  Romans 
establislicd  thcnuielvcs  as  victors  at  Itabbath-Moab,  the 
capital,  which  became  under  their  rule  Areopolis.  Kir- 
KuTiwat  received  the  name  of  Kamk-Moba.  When  we 
notice  especially  the  last-named  city,  we  shall  examine  llie 
leoJiug  events  of  whicli  it  was  the  theatre. 

It  remains  only  to  extract  certain  ]>aB8ages  Ironi  the 
prophecies  of  Isaiah  and  Jeremiah,  and  ve  shall  liavo 
collected  together  all  the  biblical  documents,  bearing 
reference  to  tJie  country  of  the  Moabilcs.  Let  ua  begin 
with  Isaiah  : — 

Cliajitor  XV.     I.  "  The  burden  of  Moab.    Because  in  tlio 


*  AnL  Jttd.  li*.  a,  i. 


TUB   LAND   OF    UOAB. 


4£9 


I 


nigbt  Ar  of  Moal*  is  laiil  waste,  and  brought  to  alence  ; 
because  in  tbo  niglit  K.ii-  of  Moab  in  laid  waste  and 
brought  to  silence  ; 

2.  •'  lie  is  gone  up  to  Bajitb,  aiid  to  Dibon,  the  bigh 
places,  to  weep  :  Moab  shall  boivl  over  Ncbo.  and  over 
Jtledeba  :  on  all  Uioir  licads  Bhall  be  baldness,  and  every 
beard  c«t  off." 

4.  "  And  Heshboii  shall  cry,  and  Elealeh  :  their  voices 
shall  bo  hcai'd  even  unto  Jaha:;. 

5.  "  My  hcai-t  shall  cry  out  for  Moab  ;  his  fugitives  sball 
floe  unto  Zoar,  an  hoifcr  of  three  years  old :  for  by  the 
mounting  up  of  Luhith  with  weeping  shall  they  go  it  up  : 
for  in  the  way  of  Horonaiin  (the  two  caverns),  they  shall 
raise  up  a  crj'  of  destruction. 

6.  "  For  the  waters  of  Ninmni  shall  ho  desolate :  for 
the  hay  is  withered  away,  the  grass  failetli,  there  is  no 
green  thing. 

7.  "Therefore  the  abundance  they  have  gotten,  and 
that  which  they  have  laid  up,  shall  they  carry  away  to 
the  brook  of  the  willows. 

8.  "  For  the  cry  is  gone  round  about  the  borders  of 
oab  ;  the  howling  thereof  unto  Eglaitn,  and  the  howling 
ercof  unto  Bccr-cUra. 

9.  "  For  the  waters  of  Dimoi!  shall  he  full  of  blood  ;  for 
I  will  bring  more  upon  Dimon,  lions  upon  him  that 
cecapctb  of  Moab,  and  upon  the  remnant  of  the  land." 

Ciiapter  XTi.  7.  "Therefore  shall  Moab  howl  for  Moab. 
very  one  oliall  howl :  for  the  fouiidations  of  Kir-harcseth 
shall  ye  moimi ;  surely  they  are  stricken. 

8.  "  For  the  fields  of  Hoshbon  languish,  and  the  vino  of 
Sibruah  :  the  lonls  of  the  heathen  have  broken  <Iown  the 
principal  phuits  tJiercof :  they  are  come  even  unto  Jazor  : 


480 


TIIK  hAtn>  at   MOAB. 


ther  wandereJ  tlirou"li  tJio  wilcloniees  :    her  bmnclics  liw 
stretched  out,  they  are  gone  over  the  sea. 

9.  "Therefore  I  will  bewail  wilJi  the  weeping  of  Jazer 
the  viue  of  Sibmnh  :  I  will  water  thee  with  my  teara,  0 
Heshbon  and  Rk-Jiloh  :  for  the  ehoiitiog  for  ihy  sununer 
fruits  and  for  thy  harvest  Is  fallen." 

11.  "  Wherefore  my  bowcU  sltall  ^und  like  an  harp 
Moab,  and  mine  inward  pntts  for  Kir>haresh. 

12.  "  And  it  shall  come  to  pass,  when  it  is  aeen  thai 
iloab  ia  weary  on  the  high  place,  ttiat  he  shall  oome  to 
his  sanctuary  to  pray  ;  hut  he  shall  not  prevail" 

14.  "But  now  the  Lord  hath  spoken,  saying.  Within 
three  years,  as  ihc  years  of  au  birohng,  and  the  glory  of 
Moab  shall  be  contemned,  with  nil  that  great  multitude  ; 
and  the  remnant  »hatl  be  very  small  and  feeble." 

Jeremiah  is  still  more  precise  when  bo  prophesie«  the 
catastrophe  impending  over  Moab ;  bat  his  words  are 
often  almost  identical  with  those  of  Isaiah.  Let  us 
select  the  passages  tlwt  appear  most  applicable  : — ■ 

Chapter  xlviii.  1.  "  Against  Moab  thus  saitb  the  Lord 
of  hosts,  the  God  of  Israel :  Woe  unto  Nebo !  for  it  ts 
epoiled  :  Kiriathaim  is  confounded  and  taken  :  Misgab  b 
coufouudcd  and  disiuayed. 

2.  "  There  shall  be  no  more  praise  of  Moab  ;  in 
Hoshhou  they  have  devised  evil  against  it ;  come,  and 
let  us  cut  it  off  from  being  a  nation.  Also  thou  shalt  be 
cut  down,  O  madmen  ;  the  sword  shall  pursue  theo. 

8.  "  A  voice  of  crfiug  shall  be  from  Uoronaim,  spoiling, 
and  great  destruction. 

4.  "  Moab  is  destroyed  ;  her  little  ones  have  caused  a 
cry  to  be  heard.  • 

5.  "  For  in  tlie  going  np  of  Luhith  continual  weeping 


I 


THB   LAKD  OP   UOAB. 


431 


ap  ;  for  in  the  going  down  of  Horonafm    tlio 
bavc  board  a  cry  of  destruction." 

8.  "And  the  spoiler  ahall ,  come  upon  every  city, 
and  no  city  sfiBll  escape :  the  \-aUcy  also  shall  pcriab, 
and  the  plain  sliall  be  destroyed,  as  the  Lord  hath 
^Mken. 

9.  "  Give  wings  unto  Moab,  tliat  it  may  Bee  and  got 
%vr»y '.  for  the  cities  thereof  shall  be  desolate,  without 
any  to  dwoli  therein." 

.16.  "  Thou  daughter  that  dost  inhabit  Dibon,  come 
down  from  thy  glory,  and  sit  in  thirst ;  for  the  spoiler 
of  >foab  shall  come  upon  thee,  and  he  shall  destroy  tliy 
strougholdij. 

19.  "O  inhabitant  of  Aroer,  stand  by  the  way,  and 
eapy ;  ask  Iiini  that  fleoth,  and  her  that  escapetb,  and 
say,  What  is  done  ? 

20.  "  Hoab  is  confounded  ;    for   it   is   broken  down : 
iowl  and  cry  ;  tell  ye  it  in  Arnon.  that  Moab  is  spoiled, 

21.  "And  judgment  is  come  upon  the  plain  country  ; 
upon  Ifolon,  and  upon  Jahazah,  and  upon  Mephaath, 

II    22.  "And  upon   Dibon,   and  upon  Nebo,   and   upon 
Beth-diblatliaim, 
23.  "  And   upon   Kiriatlmim,    and    upon    Beth-garau!, 
and  upon  Beth-nieon, 
24.  "  And  upon  Kerioth,  and  upon  Bozrab,  and  upon 
all  die  cities  of  the  land  of  Moab,  far  or  near." 
^K     31.  "  Therefore  will  1  howl  for  Moab,  and  I  will  cry 
^out  for  all  Moab  ;  my  heart  shall  mourn  for  the  nieu  of 
^Kir'heres. 

H  32.  "0  vine  of  Sibmah,  I  will  weep  for  thee  with  the 
Bweeping  of  >Iazer :  thy  plants  are  gone  over  the  sea, 
they  reach  even  to  the  sea  of  Jazer." 


mi  TOR  UAVD  QP   HO\It.  ^^^T 

34.  "From  the  crj  of  Htvilibon  even  unto  Blealeb, 
nritl  even  unto  Jnhnr.,  have  they  uttered  their  roia^ 
from  Koar  even  unto  Uoronaiin,  as  an  heifer  of  three 
years  old  ;  for  llic  vatcrs  also  of  Nimrim  shall  bo 
desolate." 

38.  *'  There  shall  bo  Inmcntation  generally  npoo  idi 
the  housetops  of  >Ioab,  and  in  the  street^)  thereof:  for 
1  have  broken  Moab  like  a  rcasol  wherein  is  no  plossure, 
saith  the  Lord." 

41.  '*  Kcriotli  i«  takeu,  and  the  strougholds  are  sur- 
prised. 

42.  "And  Moah  shall  be  destroyed  from  being  a  people." 

45.  •■  They  that  fled  stood  under  the  sluulow  of  Hesb- 
bon  l>c><>au&o  of  the  force  :  but  a  fire  shall  come  forth  out 
of  Hcahbon,  and  a  flame  from  the  midst  of  SihoD,  and 
sliall  devour  the  comer  of  Moab,  and  the  crovn  of  tho 
head  of  the  tumultuous  ones. 

46.  "  Woo  be  unto  tliee,  0  Moab !  tlio  people  of  Che- 
mosh  pcri^ieth  :  for  thy  soos  are  taken  captives,  and  tby 
daughters  captives. 

47.  "  Yet  will  I  bring  again  tJie  captivity  of  Moab  id 
the  latter  days,  saith  the  Lord.  Thus  tar  is  the  judgmeirt 
of  Moab." 

From  the  tenor  of  verses  45  and  47,  it  is  plain  Uwu 
the  Moabites  were  really  led  ofl"  into  captinty,  aa  1  have 
previously  stated. 

Let  us  now  turn  from  the  inspired  to  the  proftne 
■writers :  Eusebius,  on  the  word  Aofuuj^ii  (Damnaba). 
mentions  a  village  of  this  name,  situated  eight  miles  fron 
Arcopolis  ;  and  another  of  the  some  designation  as  beio; 
seven  mile?)  from  tloshbcHi,  on  mount  Phegor.  This  won) 
Damnaba  in  most  likely  incorrectly  written,  and  ouglil 


TIU   LAND   OF   IIOAB. 


(38 


I  to  be  aUered  to  ^[edeba.     A  town  uf  ttie  name  of  Medebft 

^is  tiientioticd  as  hnTJiig  ^Iteti  to  the  share  of  the  tribo  of 

eubcii,   atid   aiuHt  have   been  situated  at  its  southern 

Feitremity,  for  Joshiia  (xiiL  16)  places  there  tlie  limit  of 

ktJie  tribe.    The  passage  is  as  follows  :  "  And  their  coast 
was  from  Aroor,  that  is  on  the  bank  of  the  river  Anton, 
and  the  city  that  is  in  the  midst  of  the  river,  and  all 
tho  plain  by  Medeba."     We  have  already  read  at  verse  !) : 
_  "  From  Aroer,  that  is  upon  the  bank  of  the  river  Arnon,  and 
V  the  city  tbat  is  in  tJie  midst  of  the  river  and  all  the  phun 
of  Medeba  unto  Dibon."    These  two  passagea  sufficiently 
Bprove  that  the  Medeba  tlicrein  mentioned  was  situated 
north  of  the  Arnon,  and  in  the  territory  of  the  Amoritcs ; 
that  is  to  say,  between  the  Anion  and  the  Yabbok. 

In  Stephens's  Kthnicals  we  read :    "  Medeba,  a  town 

[of  the  Nabatheans.     The  inhabitants  of  this  tonn  call 

[themselves  Afedebenians,   according   to    UraiiJua    in    hia 

id   book   of  Arabicals."      But  whether  this    is   the 

"Medeba  of  the  Sfoabitcs  or  the  Amorites,  I  cannot  take 

upon  myself  to  dociilc.     In  cither  ease,  the  test  of  Buso- 

bius  informs  us  that  eight  miles  distant  from  Kr-ltabbA 

sliould  bo  found  the  ruins  of  a  Moabitic  city,  bearing 

exactly  the  same  name  as  the  city  of  Medci>3,  situated 

in    tlie  vicinity   of   Heslibon.     Besides,    Reland,    among 

the    twelve    cities    conquered    by    Alexander   JannffiUa 

^from  the  Arabs,  mentions  Medeba,  Zoar,  and  Corona'im, 

^pe  belonging  to  the  (properly  so  called)  land  of  Moab, 

and  from  thence  he  concludes  that  Agalla  (the  Agallaim 

Bof  Kusebtns)  was  situated  likewise  with  these  three  towns, 

south  of  the  Arnon. 

We    have  seen   that    Josephns    enumerates    Agalla* 


'  Anl.  Jud.  »iT.  2~*. 


T  r 


4M 


TUE   LASD  OP  MOAB. 


amongst  tlie  twelve  cities  conqaered  rrom  tlie  Arabi 
bj  Alcxani^Ier  JanunMis ;  Relnnd  docs  not  hesitate  to 
identify  tliis  AyaXAo  witli  the  Moabitic  town  named 
Bglaim  by  Isaiah  (xv.  8).  He  is  the  moro  likely  to 
be  right  in  his  opinion,  as  Eiuiobins  asserts  tbat  in  his 
own  time  thcro  did  exist  a  station  called  AroAAtifi. 
distant  eight  miles  from  Aroopolis  in  a  southerly  direajon. 

Kusebiua,  at  tho  word  AovtiS  (Lohith),  informs  us 
that  this  locality,  also  mentioned  in  the  Bible,  was 
situated  bctnreon  AreopoUs  and  Zoar.  Tliis  meana 
evidently  that  Lnhitb  was  on  the  high  road,  lying 
between  these  two  extreme  points  ;  and  ^nce  the  sacred 
writings  mention  the  axcr/ti  to  Loliith,  it  is  not  pc«sibl« 
to  look  For  Luliitb  in  any  otber  Uian  tlio  mountainous 
portion  of  tJio  road ;  tbat  is  to  say,  in  the  mountains 
that  divide  the  hij^i  lands  of  Monb  from  the  shores  of 
the  Dead  Sen.  or  the  Moabitic  Rb6r. 

And,  lastly,  St  Jerome,  in  his  Commentary  on  lauriB 
(xv.),  informs  us  that  Zoar  bclougcd  to  the  laud  of  tfoJPP 
"  Scgor  in  tinibus  Moabitanim  sita  est.  dividcns  ab  eia 
terrara  Pliilistiim."    The  Bible  accords  wilb  this  state- 
ment of  St.  Jerome,  for  the  people  of  Jloab,  deserting  the 
banks  of  the  Arnon,  are  dt^scribed  as  flying  as  for  as  Zoar. 

From  tiio  texts  just  quoted  and  examined,  taking  them 
altogether,  it  results  tliat  the  Moabitic  country  was  limited 
— ^to  the  northward  by  the  Amou  ;  eastward,  again,  in  all 
probability,  by  the  valley  of  the  Arnoo  making  au  elbov 
towards  the  south  ;  and  southward  by  a  line 
through  Zoar,  and  dividing  the  land  of  Moab  from 
country  of  the  Philistines.  Towards  thesoutbcm  frontier 
must  bave  existed  a  station  callt-d  Sou&h.  And.  lastly. 
a  road  starting  from  Arcopolis  townrdK  the  soutbcrn  limit 


THE   LAND  OF   MOAa 


4U 


of  the  ooimtry,  and  more  especially  witb  the  object  of 
reacliiiig  tlie  towu  of  Zoar,  passed  by  another  station 
called  Luhith. 

I  am  ready  to  admit  that  the  boundary  of  this  southern 
froDtJcr  is  not  clearly  defiDcd,  and  that  it  is  even  vaji^ 
and  unfixed  ;  but  where  neither  the  sacred  nor  profane 
authorities  aro  fully  explicit,  ve  must  consider  ourselves  for- 
tunate when  we  can  fix,  with  anything  like  certainty,  a  few 
simple  land  marks,  even  though  inconsiderable  in  number. 
Ptolemy,  if  the  longitudes  and  latitudes  be  has  laid 
dovnt  had  been  transmitted  to  us  with  any  degree  of 
accuracy,  miglit  greatly  assist  this  inquiry  ;  but,  unfortu- 
nately, the  geographical  calculations  attributed  to  Mm  are 
so  often  mixed  up  witb  palpable  mistakes,  that  we  must 
be  exceedingly  cautious  in  making  use  of  tliem.  If  we 
follow  him  ID  the  re8])ectivc  bearings  of  the  following 
towns :— Jerusalem,  66'  and  31 Y" ;  Engaddi  66^"  and 
81^*;  Thamara.  eCJ"  and  30^  i°  ;  Zoara,  67J°aiid  SO^*; 
Cliarakmoba,  66i°  and  30°;  Callirhoe.  C7t»j°  and  31jl*  ; 
we  shall  tind  that  the  positions  of  Jerusalem,  Bugaddi, 
Thamara,  and  Callirhoe  are  nearly  correct ;  whilst  tlie 
'  figures  assigned  to  Charakmoba  and  Zoara  are  quite 
I  inadmissible.  For  instance,  Charakmolm  should  bare 
been  67*,  and  Zoara  66°  (leaving  out  the  fractions,  wliicli 
I  have  no  intention  to  correct),  for  otherwise  Zoar  would 
bo  laid  down  more  to  the  eastward  than  KaraJc,  a  position 
which  cannot  he  maintained. 

\  The  southern  frontier,  which  I  haro  assi^ed  to  the 
Moabitic  country,  was  not  always  permanent,  and  the 
limitation  of  that  region  has  been  hablc  to  change  to  (he 
southward  as  well  as  to  the  northward.     For  instance. 

le  Scriptures  asKign   the  Arnon  as  the  nortlicrn  Uinit  of 

r  rS 


4M 


TUB  LAND   ur   MOAR: 


the  land  of  Moabat  tlie  period  of  tlie  first  arriral  of  Uie 
Israelites ;  and  fn>ni  the  Proptiecictt  of  Isaiab  and 
Jcrcmiaii,  it  clearly  appears  that  the  Moabites  recovered 
possession  of  the  country  between  the  Anion  and  Yabbok, 
after  the  captivity  of  the  ten  tribes.  As  to  the  soullieni 
finntier,  in  the  liays  of  St.  Jerome,  Zoar  was  on  the 
border  between  Ihc  Moabitic  country  and  the  Holy  Land 
(Palestine).  Jo!<ephus  considere^l  it  as  anAralii/ia  town; 
and  in  the  sacred  volume,  tbis  siuno  Zoar,  after  having 
been  named  in  Genenis  amongst  tlie  towns  of  the  con- 
demned Pontap)lis,  became,  in  all  pmbability,  a  city  of 
Idumea,  in  the  book  of  Joshua ;  that  is  to  say  at  the 
period  of  the  division  of  the  promined  bind ;  and  lastiy, 
Zoar  was  again  iucluded  amongst  the  towns  of  Moah  at 
the  later  period  of  the  prophesies  of  Isaiah  and  Jeremiah. 
1  have  mentioned  tbat,  at  the  period  of  the  division  of 
the  territories  assigned  to  the  several  tribes,  Zoar  was 
most  likely  an  Idumean  town.  We  read  accordingly 
in  Joshua  (xv) : — "  1.  Thw  then  was  the  lot  of 
the  tribe  of  the  children  of  Judah,  by  their  families ; 
even  to  the  border  of  Kdom,  the  wilderness  of  Zin, 
southward,  was  the  uttermost  part  of  the  south  coast. 
2.  And  their  south  border  was  fn)m  the  shore  of  the 
Salt  Sea.  from  the  bay  (tongue)  that  lookctb  southward, 
a.  And  it  went  out  to  the  south  side,  to  Maaleh-acrabbim, 
(the  Ascent  of  the  Scorpions),  and  passed  along  to  Ziu, 
and  ascended  up  on  the  soutli  side  unto  Kadesb-bamea, 
and  p.<LS.sed  alon<^  to  llezron,  and  went  up  to  Adar,  and 
fetched  a  compass  to  Karkaa."  Ac,  &c  There  is  not  a 
word  relative  to  Zoar  in  this  passi^j^,  nor  in  the  enume- 
ration of  the  towns  of  the  tribe  of  Judah.  Besides  wliidi. 
it  must  be  observed  that  amongst  the  ton-na  of  Juda», 


TUB   }.RVD  OF   MOAB. 


437 


on  ttio  frontier  of  Edom,  vro  find  mentioned 
Adadali,*  whiclt  I  was  the  first  to  discover,  still  bearing 
the  same  name,  on  the  liigh  ground  reached  through  the 
Ouad-CK-Zoucra,  after  having  crossed  tlie  Ouad-et- 
TliACinah.  The  Hmit  of  tlie  tribe  of  Jiidah  muHt  then 
necessarily  Iiarc  passed  very  near  Zoar,  and  Baiut  Jerome 
was  quite  correct  in  placing  this  town  on  the  extreme 
frontier  between  Palestine  and  the  Land  of  yiooh. 

I  must  here  refer  to  two  very  important  piissages  taken 
from  EzekicI,  which  fix  the  southern  limit  of  the  promised 
land  (chap,  xlrii.  v.  19):  "And  the  south  side  south- 
ward. fi"om  Tamnr  even  to  tlic  waters  of  strife  in  Kadesh, 
the  river  to  the  Great  Sea.  And  this  is  the  south  side 
southward."  And  further  on  (chap,  xlviii.  v.  28) : 
"  And  by  the  border  of  Gad.  at  the  south  side  sonth- 
ward,  the  border  shall  be  even  from  Tamar  unto  the 
■waters  of  strife  in  Kadeah,  and  to  the  river  toward  the 
Groat  Sea."  The  commentators  have  giren  Jericho  for 
the  Taraar  mentioned  in  tlicse  two  verses.  But  this 
identification,  already  proposed  by  the  Chaldean  text,  is 
not  admissible,  for  .Jericho  was  never  on  the  southern 
limit  of  Judaea.  It  seems  quite  evident  that  the  place 
here  mentioned  is  the  Tamara  or  Tamaro  whicli  I  dis- 
covered at  Maict-Embarrhcg ;  such  being  the  case, 
the  position  of  the  Accent  of  the  Scorpions  (Maaleli- 
acrabhim).  might  be  identitied  with  one  of  the  two  ouads 
of  Zouera  or  Malet-Erabarrheg. 

'  I  now  proceed  to  lay  down  a  comparative  table  of  the 
localities  and  ruins  which  I  have  visited,  in  the  Land  of 
Moah,  according  to  tlie  ancient  places  witli  which  they 
may  be  identified  :t— 

■  JtMb.  ST.  as. 


4SB 


TADLB  Of   L0CALITIB8   USD  UUINS. 


Kharbot'Eiidoiua 

PittalEadoaiK or  pjabal-ri-MftitUi 

Bfaftr«a*li     .... 

Kharixt,  ud  BonIj-«ii-ITeiD*IMli 
TUte.  m>d  KluabetSiMMm  . 
Bicfc«t-*t  1^:«1 
RhwbM-Emtlull 

tU'M.«rt«l>     .... 
ElLimn      .... 
l{liarb«t«bd-«rRa1iiiii    . 
lUftrbct  .IdjoTToh 
Bir-fll-tlifiilati .        .        .        , 
Klujbet-Kou^hiii         .        . 
Kli»-bMl)«r>Ii 
■Udjom-Miiiirour  . 
Khubet-Euirtah     . 
ttoilj'iu''''"  *""<"^ 
B«(tiani-«1  -  Aobed 
Kbu^efrfouqaOa  . 
Otiftd-EtmlebcA 
SchOiui        .... 
Kliiu-bai-Uoi^aU'Cn  . 
Kharbet-Tedoum . 
B«it4l-K«Rn   . 
ErlUbU     .... 
NuiulMa  nun* 
El-Kank     .... 
Ajn-Sus  .        . 

AjTD'Ol-BfEU        . 

Qoubbol-FUIiisivli 
Dclrcl-Mekhiirib     . 
Ayii-(tl-Thkl>ib     . 
Ajn-eeSekkeb 
Aj'il'Gl-CJiif^Eilajn .  . 

OmiD'Sodrj     .        .        . 
ATti'Zabiitib 

AjB-Knit      .... 
t)jab*UUH>i)iti  . 
DJtUI-DaTal . 
Kedjom  uiil  Ayi]*TaJwi 
Oiud-al-KbarwIJaU  . 
AfD-wI-Dfilii        . 
Kburbet-ed-DrtU     . 
Namelau  niitu    . 


Zmt,  Segsr. 

Badom- 

nwMouitaiD  of  Sodom  (8>ltHcNMM4. 

Boohh. 


Z^boim. 


Qo-LItout). 
AK>lli,A4jelim,  SgMax. 


;} 


Uibltl^  Ibtkh,  R«.LoiMaU. 
Bbibon. 


Ar.  RabbaUvliotb,  Artopolia. 

PV  .f  ■. 

liir-b<muMth.  Kir-Uokb,  Chornk-lUU. 


n  » 


STTCATIIW  OP  SODOM. 

It  reinaiiiB  now  to  dtscufis  the  correctness  of  the  iJon- 
tilications  I  propose. 
H       Those  of  Zoar,  Sodom,  and  the  Salt  Mountain  are  so 
^Lckneljr  conQecte<1,  that    if  one   of  the  three  is    clearly 
^Peatablisbcd,  the  two  others  mast  itiiniotliately  and  neces- 
sarily follow.     Let  us  then  take  Sodom,  whicli  is  undoubt- 
edly the  most  important  of  the  three  localities,  and  let 
■  us  prove,  in  the  first  place,  by  the  concordance  of  all  the 
toxte,  sacred  and  profiine,  in  which  it  is  mentioned,  that 
_  Sodom,  the  town  fallen  under  the  curse  of  the  Almighty, 
H  (^^  actually  exi»t  at  the  northern  point  of  the  Djcbel- 
Esdoum,  or  Djebcl-el-McIelih,  oo  the  spot  where  huge 

I  masses  of  disconnected  ruins,  still  risible,  and  perfectly 
distinguishable,  exhibit  Ihcmscives  aa  a  perpetual  warning 
to  human  wickedness. 
The  name  of  Sodom  is  writteu  in  the  Bihl^  dtio; — 
JD  Arabic  (Isdoam),  ^t^} ;  and  in  Greek,  StfSufMi  (Sodoma) 
This  city  was  situated  on  the  shore  of  Lake  Asphaltites; 
for  it  was  in  the  vicinity  of  /oar,  which  also  stood  at 

■  the  southern  point  of  the  Dead  Sea,  on  its  western  coasL 
In  fact,  when  Lot  separated  from  Abraham,  he  diosc 
»for  his  residence  tlie  plain  of  Jonhui  (the  piTiTis  of 
Holy  Writ,  the  firya  irtbiav  of  the  Greeks),  as  far  as 
Sodom.* 
"10.  And  Lot  lifted  up  his  eyes,  and  beheld  all  the 
plain  of  Jordan,  that  it  was  well  watered  everywhere, 
befoi-e  the  Lord  destroyed  Sodom  antl  Gomorrah,  even  as 
the  garden  of  tlie  Lord,  hke  the  land  of  EgypU  as  tlioa 
'  oomefit  unto  Zoar. 

11.  Then  Lot  chose  him  all  the  plain  of  Jordan  ;  and 


•  Omm*1>,xUL 


-uu 


SITOATIOX   OP  80D0H. 


Lot  joiinicycd  east:  and  Uiey  separated  tbemselres  tBe 
ono  from  the  other. 

"  1 2.  Aliraliam  dwelled  in  the  land  of  Caniuin,  atid  Lot 
dwclle>l  ill  the  c-iUoa  of  the  plain,  and  pitched  bis  tent 
towanla  Sodom." 

Fiom  tlio  tcuor  of  tlieso  versca  it  clearly  results  that 
Lot,  iuteuding  to  remove  his  encampment  to  the  end  of 
the  plain,  carried  it  as  far  aa  Sodom.  To  reach  tliat 
place,  he  had  to  cross  neither  the  Jordan  nor  the  Lake 
Asphaltitcs ;  and  as  it  appears  certain  that  Zoar  was  at 
the  extremity  of  this  fertile  land,  bo  fertile  that  it  it 
compared  to  the  land  of  Egypt,  and  even  to  the  garden 
of  Kden,  it  seems  equally  evident  that  Ho'toin,  in  the 
immediate  neighbourhood  of  Zoar.  must  liave  boon  situated 
likewiKc  at  the  farthest  end  of  tlie  phun  taken  poasession 
of  by  Lot. 

Strabo  (book  xvi.)  writes  as  follows : — "  It  is  said  that 
this  country  is  burnt  up  by  fire  ;  evidencea  of  this  fire 
are  traceable  in  certain  baked  and  calcined  mouutaiiia, 
ia  the  direction  of  Jtlasada ;  in  deep  rents  and  clefts, 
ia  a  soil  like  aslics ;  in  rocks  distilling  pitch,  and  in 
rivers  of  boiling  water,  emitting  fi-om  afar  off  a  loathsonw 
odour.  Here  and  there,  places  formerly  inhabited  by 
man  are  now  confuseil  masses  of  niins.  It  is  thus  eiaay 
to  put  laith  in  the  tradition  universally  believed  through- 
out the  country,  that  thirteen  cities  formerly  existed 
there.  Wo  are  even  told  that  ruins  still  exist  of  the 
metropolis,  Sodom,  the  circumference  of  which  extends  ia 
about  sixty  stadia.  Enrthquakcs,  eniplions  of  subterra- 
neous fires,  warm,  bituminous,  and  sulphureous  waters 
are  said  to  have  caused  this  lake  to  overflow  its  original 


I 


I 


SITUATIOK  OP  SODOM. 


441 


borders ;  rocks  liavo  boon  set  on  fire  ;  rikI  at  the  BMno 
time  these  cities  were  either  swallowed  up  or  deserted 
by  as  many  of  the  inhabitants  as  were  able  to  escape." 
(Letrounc's  translation.)  From  this  passage  it  clearly 
results  that  Sodom,  and  the  appertaining  land,  were  in 
the  same  region  as  Moasada  (Masada),  Now,  beyond 
all  contradiction,  Masada  was  on  the  western  shore  of  the 
Dead  Sea,  therefore  Sodom  and  Zoar  were  likewise  on 
the  same  side. 

Let  us  also  remember  that  Joscphus*  mcntioiui  the 
length  of  Lake  Asphaltites  as  being  fire  hundred  and 
eighty  stadia  ;  that  it  e^ttmds  as  far  as  Zoara  in  Arabia, 
whilst  it^  breadlU  is  only  one  hundred  and  Mty  stadia  ; 
that  in  its  cicinitt/  is  the  land  of  Sodom,  &c.  We  must, 
then,  conclude  again,  iliat  since  Zoar  was  at  tlio  soutliorn 
extremity  of  tiic  hike,  Sodom  was  likewise  at  the  southern 
extremity  ;  and  as  nobody  can  suppose  tliat  in  mcaauring 

I  the  length  of  the  lake,  Josephus  should  have  passed 
from  one  shore  to  the  other  ;  neeessarily,  both  Zoar 
and  Sodom  wore  on  the  south-wcstcni  extremity  of  Lake 
Asphaltites. 
Galen,t  when  speaking  of  the  mineral  salt  found  on 
|]iO  ahores  of  the  Dead  Sea,  makes  use  of  the  following 
expression  : itpooayopivwai  it    ai/rovi  (£\<ic)    SoBofifPotis  itttii 

Iras  ittpuxoymv  T^f  kC^-riv  ipSn',  A  naintTai 'S.ohofiA.  1  his  Salt 
is  called  saU  of  Sodom,  from  the  name  of  the  moun- 
tains in  tlio  neighbourhood  of  the  lake,  which  mountnina 
bear  also  that  appellation.  Thus,  the  Salt  Mountain,  Uio 
Djebfl-Msdoitm  of  the  Arabs,  was.  in  the  opinion  of  Galen, 
correctly  called  Sodom. 

•  Bol.  Jud.  l-r.  i.  8. 
t  Lib.  Iv.,  D»  Kmplict'iin  Hfdioaawiitonicn  FoculUllIiuH,  eu|i.  liz. 


I 
I 


442 


ZOAH   AND  THE   SALT  MOmfTAIlT. 


It  seems  tinneccssary  to  ttrpie  any  longer  on  a  fact 
which  nobody  will  be  inclined  to  question  ;  all  scholars 
agree  in  opinion  that  Sodom  was  on  the  western  shore 
of  the  Lake  Aephallitcs.  The  site  of  this  town  has  ncrer 
been  sought  for  on  the  eastern  shore,  which  became  afber- 
iranls  an  integral  part  of  the  Land  of  Moab,  properly  so 
caltvd.  We  may  therefore  boldly  establish  this  first  point, 
that  Sodom  was  at  Uie  souttiom  end  of  the  Dead  Sea,  on 
its  western  shore. 

Let  us  now  remember  that  Genesis  (xix.  IS  and  23) 
expressly  tells  us  that  Lot  departed  from  Sodom  "  w/iiit 
the  morning  arose,"  and  entered  Zoar  when  "  the  sun  km 
ri*en  upon  the  earth"  It  results  incontestahly  upon  this 
fact,  that  from  Sodom  to  Zoar  the  distance  could  not 
exceed  a  league  (three  English  miles),  at  the  rery 
utmost.  Any  locality  placed  on  the  eastern  sliore 
of  Lake  Asphaltites,  is  then  necessarily  excluded  from 
any  pretension  to  repre&(mC  tlie  site  of  the  Biblieat 
Zoar. 

And  now,  if  on  the  very  spot  where  (from  Scriptural 
and  historical  information)  Sodom  ought  to  exist,  Zoar 
and  the  Salt  Mountain  mentioned  by  Calen,  under  the 
name  of  Sodom  (and  not  under  thai  of  the  Mnuntain 
of  Sodom),  a  circumstance  sufliciently  renmrkable — I 
say,  if  on  this  very  spot  we  find  a  huge  mountain  of 
mineral  salt,  the  only  one  of  the  kind  in  tfae  country, 
called  Djebcl-Bsdoum,  bearing  on  all  the  declivities 
flanking  its  northern  point,  the  extensive  ruins  of  a 
town  :  ruins  amongst  which  you  can  distinguish,  on  a 
caroful  examination,  many  foundations  of  walls ;  ruins, 
again,  which  the  inhahitauLs  of  the  country  are  tu  the 
habit  of  calling   KharbeUEsdoum    (Ruins   of  Sodom), 


REMAINS  OP  THE  OOSDBMNBD  CITIBB. 


443 


and    of   ^plying   to   them    the    tradition    cODCorniiig 
Sodom  ;    if,    bosidca,    vithin    somewliat    more  than  half 

,  a    league    from    this    place  (a  mite  nnd  a  half  Eitghsh 

lent),    towards    the  mountain  range,  vre  fall  in 

otiier    ruiiiB   of  a  town    called    Zoucra-ct-Tahtali, 

the  lower  town  of  Zoar,  is  it  oven  possible  to  question 

the   identity   of   Kharbet-Esdoum   with   Sodom,  and  of 

Zo«era-et-Tahtah     with    Zoar   or   Segor  ?     I   certainly 

f  think  uoL 

But  it  has  been  oflcn  urged  that  the  towns  that  fell 

'under  the  Divine  wrath  were  destroyed  by  firo  from 
heaven  in  the  6rst  instance ;  then  submerged  nnder  the 
Dead  Sea,  whicli  was  formed  suddenly,  so  as  to  drown  the 
valley  of  Siddim,  and  the  vestiges  of  the  cities  formerly 
standing  in  that  valley.     Such  is  in  substance  what  lias 

tbeeu  objected  to  the  position  1  maintain,  of  Iiaving  dis- 
covered on  the  spot  the  still  perfectly  distinguishable 
remains  of  the  cities  of  the  Pentapolis. 
Upon  what  basis  rests  the  interpretation  produced 
against  my  opinion  '{  In  what  book,  in  what  narraLivo, 
hxts  the  catastrophe  of  the  Pcntapolis  been  so  described  as 
to  allow  for  a  moment  the  supposition  that  the  condemned 

>  cities  were  overwhelmed  under  the  lake  "i  Is  it  in  the 
Holy  Bible  t  I«  it  in  the  works  of  tho  ancient  writers  ? 
Koithor  in  the  one  nor  the  other.  I  cannot  guess  what 
dreaming  commentator  lias  originated  tlie  fable  I  have 
analysed  in  a  short  inquiry ;  and  this  fable,  precisely 
because  it  is  the  more  preternatural  and  inexplicable,  has 
been  hitherto  received  and  adopted  without  examination. 
From  the  date  of  this  invention  many  travellers  in  Palestine 
have  eagerly  repeated  the  same  imaginary  legends,  without 
I  chuosiug   (no  easy  undertaking)  to  ascertain  by  personal 


M4 


SCStrtURAL   AVrnOKITIEK. 


exftminatioii  the  truth  of  the  facts  the  uarrative  of  wliidi 
tliey  were  perpetuating  on  the  faitli  of  those  writers  wlio 
had  preceded  them.  Thus  statements,  utterly  at  varianw 
with  the  truth,  by  a  long  chain  of  hereditary  assertion, 
cfpiaUr  vaUieic.'Q,  liecome  at  last  so  firmly  established.  &ad 
so  generally  rectnTcd  as  authorities,  that  my  travelhny 
couipaniotis  and  myself  have,  on  our  return,  heen  set  dowH 
as  iiuiwstors,  or,  at  tlie  beat,  as  incompetent  ohscritrs. 
uuahk  to  examine  correctly  the  nature  and  peculiar  features 
of  any  given  ground. 

I  ventured  to  asi^ert  that  it  is  not  possible  to  Snd,  in  the 
sacred  or  profane  writings  of  antiquity,  a  single  passage 
from  which  it  might  he  inferred  that  the  Dead  Sea  arose 
suddenly  at  the  time  of  the  catastrophe  of  the  PeDtapolis. 
I  go  still  further,  aud  repeat  even  more  positivolj'.  that  all 
these  early  authorities  unnnimously  cstahliKh  that  the  towns 
fiUlcu  under  the  curse  of  the  Almighty  were  iierer  over> 
whelmed  under  the  waters  of  the  take,  Itut  mere  asser- 
tions arc  nothing  ;  let  the  question  rest  upon  a  comparison 
of  evidences. 

We  read  in  GcHCsis  (xix.  21)  :  "  Then  the  Lord  raiued 
upon  Sodom  and  upon  Gouiorrah  brimstone  and  6re  from 
the  Lord,  out  of  heaven  ; 

"  2S  :  And  he  overthrew  those  cities,  and  nit  the  plain, 
and  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  cities,  and  that  which  grew 
upon  the  ground." 

It  clearly  appears  that  in  this  succinct  explanation  of 
the  catastrophe  which  destroyed  the  condemned  cities,  uot 
a  word  is  mentioned  of  tlie  intervention  of  the  waters  of 
the  Dead  Sea. 

Wc  rciid  agHin,  further  on  (verse  28)  :  "  And  bo 
(Abraham)  looked  toward  Sodom  and  Gomorrah,  and 


1 

I.A  1 


i 
I 


SCnil'TL'KAI-   .u:thoritie8. 


44r> 


tovrai'il  alt  the  lantl  of  the  piniii,  and  bclicld,  and,  lo, 
tiie  smoke  of  the  country  went  up  as  the  smoke  of  a 
furiiaco." 

The  smoke  that  went  up  from  l/ie  mrtli  was  that  of  tl)C 
fire  consuming  the  towns  ;  but  this  cannot  mean  that  the 
town*  were  overwhelmed  uudor  the  watei-s  of  the  lake, 
for  in  that  case  there  could  have  been  no  smoke. 

In  Deuteronomy  {xxix.  23)  we  read  also ;  "  The 
whole  lanct  thereof  is  hrimstome,  and  salt,  and  biunung. 
that  it  is  not  sown,  nor  boarcth,  nor  any  grass  groweth 
tberciu,  like  the  overthrow  of  Sodora,  and  Gomorrah, 
Adraah,  and  Zcboim,  which  the  Lord  overthrew  in  his 
anger  and  in  his  wrath." 

A  country  overwhelmed  under  the  bitter  and  salt  floods 
of  the  Asphaltic  Lake,  would  ccrtaiidy  not  have  been 
described  in  this  manner.  Thus,  in  the  days  of  Hoses, 
the  idea  of  the  submersion  of  the  Pentapolis  was  neither 
asserted  nor  admitted  by  anybody. 

Amos  prophesied  in  the  days  of  TTzziah,  Kinj;  of  Judah, 
and  of  Jeroboam,  son  of  Joaidi,  King  of  Israel."'  We 
read  iu  his  book  (ir.  II) :  "I  have  overthrown  some  of 
you,  as  God  overtluTiw  8odom  and  Gomorrah,  and  ye  were 
aa  a  firebrand  plucked  out  of  the  burning  :  yet  have  ye 
not  returned  unto  me,  saith  the  Lord." 

A<rc«rdiug  to  Amos,  also,  the  sites  of  Sodom  and  of 
Gomorrah  were  like  "  firebrands  plucked  out  of  the 
burning."  Cei'tainly,  nothing  like  submersion  is  either 
expressed  or  intended  in  this  verso. 

Zephaoiah  prophesied  under  Josiah,  son  of  Araou 
King  of  Judah.  Wo  read  i»  his  book  (ii.  9)  ;  "  There- 
fore as  I  Uve,  saith  the  Lord  of  Hosts,  the  God  of  Israel, 

■  Amm.  1. 1. 


ut 


mKOnZAh  AUTUOHITIKS. 


sarelj  Monb  shall  be  as  Sodom,  and  the  children  of  Amoo 
aft  Gomorralt,  even  tho  brocdiug  of  oetdea,  and  salt-ptU^ 
and  a  [>crpelUAl  desolation  :  the  residue  of  my  peopk 
shall  spoil  them,  and  the  remmint  of  mj  people  ehall 
possess  them." 

According  to  Zephaniah.  again,  the  sites  of  Sodom  and 
of  Gomorrah  were  not  baried  under  the  waters  of  the 
Dead  Sea. 

We  read  in  Jeremiah  (xlix.  17)  also  "  Edom  shall  be 
a  desolation ;  crorj  <mc  that  gooth  by  it  shall  be 
astonished,  and  Hhall  hiss  at  all  the  plagues  thereoC" 

18:  "As  in  the  overthrow  of  Sodom  and  Gomorrah, 
and  the  nei};hbour  citicH  ihureof,  satth  tJie  Lord,  no  tarn 
shall  abide  there,  neither  shall  a  sou  of  luau  dwell  in  it." 

A  little  fm'ther  on,  the  prophet  repeats  the  same  idea 
in  the  following  expressions  (I.  -10)  :  "As  God  overthrew 
Sodom  and  Gomorrah  and  the  ncighboui-  cities  thereof 
saith  the  Lord  ;  go  shall  no  man  abide  there,  neither  shall 
any  sou  of  man  abide  therein.'' 

Wliat  is  much  more  positive  stiU,  is  the  tenor  of  the 
88tli  verse  of  the  50th  chiqiter— a  verse  referring  to  the 
sauic  country  threatened  with  the  divine  wrath  (3B) : 
"  A  drought  is  upon  her  waters  and  they  shall  be  dried 
up  ;  for  it  is  the  land  of  graven  images,  and  they  arc  mad 
upon  tlicir  idols."  This  passage  cannot  mean  that  tlK 
country-  80  threatened  is  on  the  eve  of  perisliing  by  sub- 
mersion, but  by  tJic  very  contrary-  evil. 

On  tho  authority,  then,  of  Jeremiah  also,  who  wrote  in 
the  begiuiiiug  of  the  ruign  of  Zedekiali,  it  is  quite  clear 
that  the  Pentapolis  was  not  overwhelmed  under  tlic  water* 
of  tho  Dead  Sea. 

[^astly,  wliat  do  we  find  in  the  Kew  Testament  ?     In 


SCRIPTCBAL  AUTHOBITISa. 


447 


^ 
^ 


the  second  Epistle  General  of  St.  Peter  we  read  (ii.  6) : 

"And  turning  the  cities  of  Sodom  and  Gomoirali  into 
ashes,  condemned  them  with  an  overthrow." 

And  in  the  Gospel  of  i^t.  Luke  our  Saviour  says 
(xvii.  29)  : — H  H  w*f>a  i^>iKd(  Air  into  JLoidynov  ffiiu(<  niip  lal 
Btiof  Off    oiparov  nai   ajuiktatv  &Jt<urTat  :  "  I>Ut   the   Same    day 

tliat  Lot  wont  out  of  Sodom  it  rained  fire  and  brimstone 
from  heaven,  and  destroyed  them  all." 

This  sliows  that  Ht.  Peter,  and,  what  is  far  more 
conclusive  still,  our  Saviour  himself,  ascribed  tha  catas- 
trophe  of  the  cities  condemned  under  the  curse,  to  the 
^re  showered  upon  them  by  the  hand  of  God.  Neither 
the  one  nor  the  other  ever  alluded  to  tlio  waters  of  tJio 
Dead  Sea. 

I  have  thus  quoted,  from  the  Holy  Scriptured,  many 
passages  showing  inc^ontrovcrtibly  that  the  waterti  liad  no 
share  in  this  awful  catiwtrophe  ;  let  my  opponents  now 
produce  a  single  line  upon  which  the  contrary  argument 
y  he  defended,  even  as  a  su]>p08ition. 


CIIAPTER  XIL 

Tha  euiApmatA  ritU>  Htotorifl  lUdMnuiMU— Opjkion  of  RalMki— IdcalU- 
Mtioa  of  Sodom— Correct  locdhj  «f  Z««r-— BdiliiiB  nnna  of  Nibibd  mt 
ZttmiM— Ruin*  of  Lubilk— tttiiiM  of  Sibatt—RaiiM  at  lUUMtb-Htat^* 
ArMpvlit— Ki^KkbU— Kuak.  or  KirMoab— Tbc  King*  BomU  «f  Hoak- 
Pceeefil^  tnTelltn— fiarckkudt  in  1811— trtqr  Hid  UUglo*  in  ISIS— Ito 
Atamimn  «ip«ditiai>wi(U>  Ckptoin  LTaeb  In  law. 

These  sacreil  testimouiaU  might  uo  doubt  be  coiisiJokhI 
sufficient,  but  there  can  be  no  harm  in  multiftlying  proofs. 
Let  w,  then,  pass  on  to  the  profiuie  writers,  beginniog 
with  Joscplitw,  the  illustrioua  liiatorian  of  the  Jews,  We 
rend  in  Ins  book  :  *  "  In  the  vicinity  ()f  the  Lnke  Aspha]- 
iitcs  ia  the  country  of  Sodom,  formerly  a  flourishing  region 
for  it  was  exceedingly  fertile  and  covered  witli  cities,  b«t 
now  entirely  destroyed  and  burnt  up.  Tradition  says 
that  it  was  consumed  by  fire  from  hcarcu,  on  acoouut  of 
the  wickedness  of  the  inhabitants.  Traces  of  the  heareulv 
fire  and  veetigeii  of  five  cities  arc  sUU  to  be  seen  there ; 
and  all  that  I  have  related  respecting  the  land  of  Sodom 
is  entitled  to  the  full  credibility  due  to  things  we  have 
witnessed  with  our  own  eyes," 

In  another  passnge,  Josephus  says  again,  when  speaking 
of  the  inhabitants  of  Jerusalem  :  "  I  think  if  the  Romans 
had  delayed  punishing  this  wicked  people,  the  town  would 
have  been  either  swallowed  up  in  the  abyss,  or  over- 
whelmed under  the  waters,  or  else  that  it  ttvitild  ktix* 


\ 


mSTOBlCAL   AUTHORITUB!. 


449 


^ 
N 


'esirot/ed  Ay  tAe  fire  of  Heaven    like  tJie  Itmii  of 
Sodom."' 

And  lastly,  we  read  again  :  f  "  God  resolved  to  inflict 
upon  them  (the  inhabitAnts  of  Sodom)  the  chastisomeut 
of  their  crimes,  and  not  only  to  overtlirow  their  city,  but 
so  to  devastate  their  conntry  that  it  should  never  again 
produce  either  plant  or  fniit ;  then  Giod  kunched  forth 

I  his  thunderbolts  upon  the  city,  and  burnt  it  with  its 
iuhabitaut^,  causiug  the  very  soil  to  periii}i  in  the  aame 
conflagration." 
It  is  unnecessary,  I  suppose,  to  waste  time  in  showing 
itlttt  according  to  the  opinion  of  Joscphus,  tho  Pentapolis 
-WAS  not  destroyed  by  submersion  under  tiie  waters  of  the 
Dead  Sea. 

I  have  already  quoted  an  entire  passage  from  Strabo 
(lib.  iri.),  of  which  I  shall  merely  repeat  here  the  follow- 
ing sentence :  We  are  even  told  that  Me  ruins  of  their 
melrop(^is,  S'ldom,  still  ejrint,  the  circumference  of  which 
is  said  to  moasure  about  sixty  stadia,"  &c.  &c.  Thus 
again,  Strabo  has  no  idea  that  the  I'eiitapolis  was  des- 
troyed by  water. 

Let  us  now  turn  to  Tacitus,  who  tells  us4  when  treating 

of  the  Dead  Sea  Lake :  "  Haud  procul  inde  canipi,  quos 

ferunt  olim  ubcrcs.  magnisque  urbibns  habitatos,  fulminum 

jactu  arsisite  ;  ct  manere  vestigia  ;  terramque  ipsam,  specie 

torridam,  vim  frugiferam  perdidisse."     "  Not  far  from  this 

^^    place  are  fields,  that,  wc  are  told,  were  fonnerly  fertile  and 

■  occupied   by   large  cities,  but  they  were  burnt  up  by 

~    thunder  and  lightning,  and  tho  ruins  still  remain  upon 

tbeni.     Ii  is  also  related  that  the  very  earth,  scorched  by 

•  IM.  Jea..  V.  xlii.  0.  t  Ant.  Jud.,  I.  xL  1. 

t  HIaC  UbL  V.  * u. 

TML.I.  ou 


4&0  HMTUBICAL   AOTUOBITTRS. 

tipat,  has  loKt  all  proJuctive  power."  Thus  tt  appenre  that 
Tacitus  Rud  Straho  agi-ce  in  Hie  name  conclusion. 

Amongst  lUo  Arabian  authors  there  are  some  who 
beliere  in  tiie  ruins  of  Sodom  nnd  the  other  citiea, 
destroyed  by  the  hand  of  the  Almight;y ;  for  exmnple; 
a  passage  of  Mnmoudy,  quoted  by  III.  Stephen  Quatrc- 
mfero,  iu  a  memoir  published  in  the  Jotn'nai  drs  Savanb 
(September,  1832),  and  extracted  from  the  AnUnaa 
manuscript  at  Coustantinople  (T.  Ist.,  f.  162),  sajs, 
in    speaking    of   the    towns    of   the    Pcntapulis :    Ui, 

J'  *^  j/j  ^  u-4*  ^  V'  >-  '■>»  •    "  ^^^  '■*"'7  *!*" 
remained  even  up  to  our  onu  time.    These  towns  are 

in  niins,  and  ilo  not  contain  any  inhabitants." 

Abulfcda,  though  not  quite  so  explicit,  ts  of  the  same 
opinion.  It  ih  true  that  Kdri&y  sap.  Sodom  and  the 
neighbouiing  dties  were  buried  under  the  waters  of  the 
Dead  Sea.  Thin  proves  that  there  was  already  a  differ- 
ence of  opinion  amongst  the  most  diatingniKhed  Moham- 
medan writers.  But  it  by  no  means  controvert;!  the  fiict^ 
tJiat  all  the  anciaU  authoi-s,  sacred  and  profane,  wew 
unanimous  in  rejecting  the  fable,  according  to  which,  the 
cities  of  the  Pontapolis  were  stated  to  have  bcco  over- 
whelmed under  the  waters  of  the  Dead  Sea. 

We  may  now  consider  an  important  point  as  perfectly 
established  and  incontrovertible  ;  namely,  tJiat  the  towns 
of  the  Pentajwlis  were  not  suhmci-sed  after  their  destruc- 
tion by  fire.  They  therefore  could  never  have  been  built 
on  the  ground  which  has  hitherto  been  supposed,  erro- 
neously, to  have  been  suddenly  inimdated  by  the  waroe  of 
the  Lake  Asphaltitee,  produced  for  that  especial  piupose. 
Beyond  this,  the  sacred  text  itself  tends  to  prove,  that 
sugiposiug  even  that  tlic  plain  of  Siddim  should  have  been 


k 


OPIKIOM    or   UKLAXD. 


451 


partly  or  entirely  flooJed  over  by  ttio  watei's  of  the  lake, 
tliosc  watei's  could  not  have  aiiectod  the  citian  of  the 
Peniapolis.  For  accorciing  to  tlie  highly  judicious  obser- 
vation of  Rolaud,  whose  admirable  criticism  nobody,  I 
presume,  will  auspect  of  error,  these  cities  could  not  have 
been  situated  in  the  valley  of  Siddim.  What  do  we  read 
in  the  Bible*  cenceming  the  kings  of  the  Peutapolia  I 
"  Ui  onincs  eongregati  sunt  in  valle  Siddim.  qua;  est  Mare 
Salsxuu."  "All  these  were  joined  toguther  in  the  vale  of 
Siddim,  which  is  the  Salt  Sea." 

Itelandf  expresses  himaelf  as  follows  concerning  this 
verse  :  "  There  is  but  one  thing  stated  here,  that  the  valley 
which  was  formerly  called  %'alley  of  Siddim,  became  after- 
wards the  Dead  Sea,  a  fact  which  1  do  not  mean  to 
contro%'erL  Indeed,  this  valley  may  have  been  flooded  by 
the  wateni  forming  this  sea,  cither  in  consequence  of  an 
increase  of  the  Jordan,  or  of  the  gushing  out  of  subter- 
raoean  or  other  springs  ;  but  as  no  one  knows  how  or 
when  this  has  happened,  nothing  is  gained  by  dwelling  on 
the  point.  The  inspired  writer  docs  not  say  that  the  five 
cities,  Bodum  luid  tltc  rest,  were  situated  in  the  valley  of 
Siddim ;  on  the  contrary,  the  text  quoted  leads  to  an 
opposite  conclusiou ;  that  sines  the  kings  of  these  five 
cities,  after  having  collected  their  armies,  joined  together  ; 
'  versus  vallem  Siddim,'  totvards  fhs  valirif  of  Siddim. 
Supposing  the  translation  to  be  in  tub  valley,  the 
meaning  is  still  the  same.  The  probability  is.  then,  that 
the  valley  of  Siddim  was  quite  distinct  irom  the  country 
^^  in  which  tlieir  five  cities  were  situated.  For  instance,  is 
^1  there  any  man  who  would  think  of  saying :  The  inliabitants 
^1  of  Amsterdam,  of  liajirlum,  and  of  Leydeu  luive  uiarclied 


Osnaau^  lie  3. 


t  IM.  li't  i  p,  361. 

u  u  S 


1 


t&i 


VPIKIUK   or   UKLANI). 


I 


I 


against  tlie  enemy  snJ  liavc  joined  together  in  Hollan 
No  ;  precisely  for  this  reason,  ihal  the  towns  here  men- 
tioned are  all  in  UoUaiid  ;  but  we  might  very  properlj 
say  ;  Tlio  iubabitauls  of  these  towns  have  join»I  t<^Uier 
oa  tlie  spot  where  the  Xjake  of  Hsarlcm  is  now  placed; 
and  the  rcAsonable  coiiclu^on  to  he  drawn  from  that 
cxpreesiou  wo\iId  bo,  that  the  Lake  of  Baartcm  is  per- 
fecitjy  distinct  from  the  ooinitry  in  which  those  towns  an 
situated." 

It  would  be  difficult,  I  should  tliiuk,  to  refute  this  chaiti 
of  reasouing  of  Reland,  and  I  must  therefore  be  permitted 
to  coniuder  it  conclusive.  Besides,  Kctaiid  rests  upoii 
another  very  just  and  striking  observation.  He  remarks, 
that  ill  the  verse  of  the  xixth  chapter  of  Genesis,  where  Jl 
is  stated  that  God  rained  down  brimstone  and  tiro  upon 
the  cundenuied  cities  and  upon  the  whole  piaiu,  the  expres- 
sion made  use  of  by  the  sacred  writer  to  expi-ess  this  last 
idea,  is  -Qz,  niejuiitig  the  circuit,  the  plain,  and  not  tbs 
talUy  of  Siddim. 

Kot  to  liwcU  too  long  upon  this  subject,  I  will  merely 
add,  that  Roland,  with  hts  usual  tact,  had  very  correctly 
guessed  that  the  towns  of  the  Fenlapolis  must  have  be«D  ■ 
situated  on  the  shores  of  the  Dead  Sea,  and  that  their 
ruiiLB  might  and  even  ought  to  be  still  found  there.  What 
the  judicious  critic  sunnisetl  from  the  corner  of  his  study, 
observaiioua  made  on  the  very  sjwl,  nearly  a  century  and 
a  half  after  the  publication  of  his  admirable  work,  hare 
pliivcd  to  be  completely  true. 

Now,  the  logical  conclusion  to  be  deduced  from  what  I 
hare  stated  above,  amounts  tt)  this.  As  it  is  unquestion- 
able that,  with  tlie  exception  of  Ayu-Ujedy  (Engedi), 
Ma«;ida,  Thamara,  and  Zoar,  there  has  not  been  since  the 


I 


IDBXTTrtCATIOX   Of  SODOM. 


tss 


catastrofjlio  of  tlie  Peiitapolis,  any  olhcr  town  built  on  the 
western  shores  of  the  Dead  Sea  ;  it  thim  tiecesMirily  followa, 
that  we  cannot  help  recognising  Sodom  iit  the  Klmrhet- 
Esiloum  (ruins  of  Sodom)  nf  tho  Arabs,  and  at  the  foot  of 
the  salt  moiiiitaiu.  which  Galen  exjircssly  namc»  Soifoma  ; 
and  as  a  like  conHcqtieneo  we  are  compelled  also  to  rccog- 
nise  the  other  condemned  cities  in  such  ruins  as  we  may 
happen  to  meet  on  the  snme  shore. 

I  cannot  suppose  that  additioniil  proof  will  be  retjnired 
of  tlie  fact — which  may  bo  qiiestioned,  but  not  invalidated 
— that  the  niiiis  which  aro  known  to  the  Arabs  under  the 
name  of  the  Kharbot-Esdoum.  arc  ftltiially  and  i-cally  the 
niins  of  the  biblical  Sodom.  To  contest  this  positive  dis- 
covery, there  will  bo  but  one  course  left ;  that  of  boldly 
denying  the  very  existence  of  these  ruins,  which  my  com- 
panions and  myself  have  twice  visited  and  examined^ 
1  especially  the  second  time,  with  the  greatest  rare.  1 
^b  expect  to  encounter  this  denial ;  but,  undue  modesty 
^Bapart,  I  declare  that  I  rest  greater  confidence  in  an 
^^examination  made  by  myself,  minutely  and  at  full  leisure, 
^"  in  company  with  four  Frenchmen  sufficiently  intelligent  to 
I  discern  ruins  (where  ruins  actually  exist ;  and  wliich  the 
Arabs  who  accompanied  ua — and  with  whom,  from  ray 
knowledge  of  their  language,  I  was  enabled  to  keep  up 
constant  conversation — pointed  out  to  me  under  the  very 
significant  name  of  Kharhct-Esdoum),  tliari  in  any  contra- 
^_  dictory  observation,  perhaps  rather  hastily  made  an<i  with 
^rpreconeeived  convicttoas  ;  such  for  instance  an  the  impos- 
sibility of  finding  Zoar  on  the  western  shore  of  the  Pead 
Sea.  T  have  superabumhintly  demonstrated  that  this  last 
opinion  is  in  flagrant  opposition  to  the  text  of  the  Uoly 
Scriptures  ;  it  is  therefore  ()uite  clear  that  any  conclusion 


4M 


IDBNTIFICATIOK  OP   SODOU. 


I 


resting  more  or  less  u)K)ii  so  niL<<taken  a  conception  must 
be  stofttlily  rejected,  and  cast  aside  as  a  dangerous  faUacy. 

Let  us  now  return  to  the  subject.  Sodom  \ras  situatoil 
at  the  south-westcm  point  of  the  Dead  Sea ;  the  sdt 
mountain  is  called  Sodom  by  Galen.  Sodom  was  therefore 
on  the  very  same  spot  with  tlio  salt  mountain.  This  moiui- 
tain  is  called  by  the  Arabs,  indifferently,  Djebcl-el-SIelchli 
or  Djebel-Rsdoum,  the  latter  expresKon  being  also  that  of 
Oalon.  Thus,  then,  if  on  the  very  situation  of  the  salt 
mountain  wc  fall  in  with  the  ruins  of  a  town,  there  is  otctj 
probability  that  these  are  the  ruins  of  Sodom  ;  and  this 
probability  becomes  &n  undeniable  evideoco,  if  the  inha- 
bitants of  the  country  unanimously  i^ee  in  giving  to  these 
ruins  the  name  of  Ehnrbet-Ksdoum  (ruins  of  Sodom),  and 
iu  attaching  to  them  the  traditional  history  of  the  town 
destroyed  under  the  curse.  All  these  conditions  being 
strictly  fulfdted,  it  is  not  possible  to  refuse  credence  to  the  ■ 
fact  that  these  ruins  of  a  town,  called  Sodom,  are  really 
the  ruins  of  the  Sodom  mentioned  in  the  Bible. 

Amongst  the  signnttires  to  the  Acts  of  the  first  Council 
of  Nicroa,  is  attached  the  name  of  Severus,  Biahop  of 
Sodom,  included  in  the  number  of  the  bishops  of  Arabia. 
tieland,  who  waa  not  likely  to  overlook  this  remarkable 
fact,  has  discussed  it  carefully.*  "  It  would  be  nonsense," 
says  he.  "  to  conclude  Uuit  in  this  passage  is  designated 
the  Sodom  overthrown  by  divine  wraih,  and  which  was 
never  to  be  inhabited  again.  What  is  the  place  which  we 
are  to  suppose  concealed  under  this  denomination  T  It 
cannot  be  Zoar ;  for  Zoar  was  a  town  of  Palestine,  and  not 
of  Arabia  ;  neither  can  it  be  Sycamazona,  which  was  like- 
wise a  town   of  Palestine,  and  not  an  Arabi.in  town." 


I 


FAl.,  Kt.  U'.,  ]..  nSO.     At!  nuof  SwtcniuL 


IDBKTIPICATION   OF  SODOU. 


465 


Consequently,  Keland  surmises  that  die  place  Tnciitionoil 
under  tliis  tianic  must  be  some  episcopal  city  of  Ara1)ta, 
a  dependency  of  the    motropolitau  Bishopric   of  IJostra, 
the   name   of  which     might     have     been     Zozoyma,   or 
Zoratma.     What  induces  him  to  adopt    thia    hypothesis, 
is  a  word  he  finds  mentioned   in  the  Arabic  index  of 
the  names  of  the  bishops  who  subscribed  to  tho  Council 
of  Nicaca,     Ite  reads  there  :       ,1.  ^  yo}\  (_j»,  jo.  Ui  and 
this   he    (raiiscrilc8,    Severus    Zoxainaon.      But    lot    us 
observe  that  the  sad  is  never  pronounced   ;,  and   that 
the  sound  ^,  gad,  if  we  restore  a  point  which  appears  to 
have  been  forgotten,  would  make  this  passage  appear  thus 
jjjU  yo  y^\   This  is  clearly  a  coi-rcct  Arabic  traiiscription 
of  the  Greek  genitive  ^^oiofiou'.     Besides,  at  the  present 
day,   it  is  mere   loss   of  time    to   call    in  (jucstion    the 
existence  of  a  Bishop  of  Sodom    called    Severus,  who 
took  a  part  in  the  Acts  of  the  Council  of  Nicaja ;  since  the 
Coptic  version  of  these  Acts,  puWishoJ  and  commented 
on  by  my  learned  fellow-citizen  and  friend  M.   Charles 
Lenormajit,   mentions    this    holy    pcraouago    in    a    very 
precise    manner.      Are  we  to   conclude   from    this  that 
Sodom  has  risen  again  from  her  ruins,  and  that  a  modem 
Sodom,  contemporaneous  with  the  Council  of  Nicaia,  was 

I  the  seat  of  a  Christian  bisliopric  l  Not  in  tlie  least 
ilaiiy  bishops  have  borne,  and  still  bear,  the  titles  of 
cities  that  only  exist  in  historical  memory.  At  the  very 
same  Council  there  was  a  Bishop  of  Ilion !  Arc  wo  to 
conclude  from  this  that  Ilion  had  been  rebuilt  ?  I  should 
suppose  not.  In  the  time  of  Josephus  the  Imid  of  Sodom 
was  still  the  name  of  the  country  where  Sodom  had 
existed  ;  and  this  name  may  very  well  have  given  birth 
to  tho  episcopal  title  which  Keland  had  conceived  to  have 


466 


JDBXTiriCATlUN   Ot  SOOOM. 


beun  incorrect]}'  written.  As  to  the  argument  drawn  Irj 
Reland  from  the  fact  of  Zoar  being  situated  in  Palcetiofy 
and  not  in  Arabia,  this  argument  falls  to  the  ground  ;  for 
in  JosephuB,'  Zonr  is  called  the  Zuar  of  Arabia,  Zuapa  r^t 
'Apa^Mt,  and  then  in  aaotJier  passage  t  he  tells  us  that 
Zoar,  Ztiapa,  was  one  of  the  twelve  towns  conquered  from 
the  Arabs  hy  Alexander  JaunsDus.} 

In  the  Acts  of  the  Council  of  ChaJcedon,  Masonius, 
Bishop  of  Zoar,  is  cinssed  once  amongst  the  biiihopa  of  ibc 
second  Palestine,  and  another  time  amongst  the  bishopa 
of  the  tliird  Palestine,  this  being  the  more  correct 
classification.  Arcopolts,  Cliaracmoba  (Er-Rabbah  and 
Karak),  as  also  Fetra,  were  certainly  dUes  of  Arabia, 
and  vet  thoy  are  enrolled  amongst  the  episcopal  cities  of 
the  third  Palestine  :  we  Iiavc  no  occasion  then  to  wouder 
that  2oar,  an  Arabian  cdty,  should  have  beou  included 
amongst  the  bishoprics  of  Uie  third  Palestine. 

liCt  us  now  consider  more  especially  Zoar  itscE  In 
Stephens's  "Ethnirals"  we  read  at  the  word  Zoar.— 
*'  Zoar  is  a  large  borough  or  fortress  of  Palestine, 
situated  on  the  shores  of  the  lake  Asphaltitas  (('si  t^ 
'Aa4>i\Tii*).  It  was  here  that  Lot  took  refitge,  and 
contrived  to  escape  from  the  catastrophe  of  Sodom." 
According  to  this  description  Zoar  was  situated  on  the 
shore  of  the  Dead  Sea.  Eiisebius  {ad  rocem  B>iAa)  speaks 
of  the  site  of  this  same  town,  and  phiccs  it  on  the  eastern 
limit  of  Idumca  (Edom).  St  Jerome  has  at  onoe 
discovered  that  this  statement  involved  a  serious  error. 


i 


1 


*  Bel  Jiid..  It.  tUI  4.  f  Ant  Jud.,  xi*.  S.  (. 

:  III  tb#  >wrrati'«  of  th«  Bight  of  Lot,  at  tfee  linw  ot  Uis  nrfn  of  aatm^ 
JoM[.hu9  oilli  Zoar  "£«%•;''  luiit  lia  utiU,  UimI  Um  locaUty  iknrvbj  ill^H*T^] 
■Ull  botnt  ths  aai«  nuav  at  iba  jwrtod  *rbaa  h«  u  hiawctf  writinit:  Zo^  $n  at 


lUKNTlPICATIOir   OF   ZOAB. 


4BT 


and  ,Uiercfut-c  bu  corrects  it  thus :  "  On  i&e  eattem 
frontier  of  Judtm."  But  (lien  this  frontier  could  only 
be  on  the  western  shore  of  the  Deiul  Sea.*  A  passage 
from  Anastasius  the  Sinaitc,  quoted  by  Kclaiidtt  is  worth 
mentioning  here.  Ho  statos  tliat,  having  made  a  journey 
in  tho  direction  of  Zoar  and  Tetrapyrgia,J  Iio  was 
Kurpritied  to  find  that  all  the  slaves  employed  in  culti- 
vating the  public  lands  were  natives  of  tho  island  of 
Cyprus,  bocauBO  they  were  the  only  people  who  eonld 
endure  the  deadly  influence  of  the  climate ;  ho  adds, 
that  this  was  a  fact  positively  established  by  numerous 
cxperimcnta. 

Kusebius,  in  hi»  "  Onomasticon "  {ai{  vttcan,  Oa^aafa  4 
'AAuicij),  tells  us  that  the  Dead  Sea  extcndeil  alt  the  way 
between  Jericho  and  Zoar.  It  is  plain  that  this  is  a  mere 
repetition  of  the  asscition  of  JosepUus,  that  the  Asphaltitic 
Lake  reached  as  far  aa  Zoara  in  Arabia, 

St  Jerome,  in  a  passage  already  quoted  above,  tells  us 
that  Zoar  was  on  the  confines  of  the  Moabiti<;  land, 
dividing  it  from  Palestine.  The  same  Saint  Jerome, 
at  tho  word  Bala  (iioAct  is  the  correct  reading,  and  not 
Bo^SAii),  inforniH  us  that  Zoar  was  the  station  of  a  Konian 
garrison  ;  and  in  tho  N^olitia  Dignitatum  /mpfrti,  we  find 
mentioned  :    "  Equites  sagittarii  indigenm,  Zoario  ;  "  the 


•   K«Uiul.  p.  i'12.  ad  tuftm  Beta.  t  ViH..  p.  lOSS,  ad  voma  Zoan. 

;  Wliat  con  tbii  pUm  b«,  talXiA  TalnjiTiipa  (Tf TpanyTia)  t  Kobwly  knom. 
Higbt  not  tliin  maaf  tui|i|>au  to  bn  k  OrMik  tnuiilatitai  of  Ilia  wonl  Kirjatli'Mb^ 
(Iko  city  of  tbo  four),  the  pritaitivo  nnnio  of  irhivli  U  Kebrun  t<uconlin|[  to 
0«i>«i>^  sxiiL  S— Jutfaiu,  Kx.  T~«nil  NcliatuUh,  xl.  '■ii'}.  The  Jena,  m  ui 
•xptuiatioa  of  tkU  nauc,  wy  that  it  reCen  to  tJia  tombt  of  the  four  palruruba 
buried  is  lleWoa— Adani,  Abnihua,  luuc,  nn<l  Jacob.  Thla  i<i|>liui]iUuii  of  tho 
Jam  b  mail  likely  the  coiivcl  aiio,  uiJ  i:  is  ulmtUDd  by  Dutripua  ■>  tii*  moat 
natanl.  Tolruryrpa  might  uW  edck"  D'O  <"*<)  irilh  the  four  towen.  Of  coona 
I  gtva  thill  hypiithvtioil  I'lunlllloition  Say  whut  it  may  be  north,  without  tnnnting 
npOKit. 


458 


IDBSTIPICATIOK   OP   ajAtt. 


native  mouiitei]  arehera,  at    Zoar.     This    was  then  the 
troop  garrisoned  at  Zoar. 

Wo  have  already  exaniinetl  tlie  tendenc}'  of  tlie  paaangea 
fi-om  Joscpliiui  concoruiug  Zoar  ;  it  remains  now  to 
ouuincratc  the  biblical  texts  id  which  there  occur  luentkm 
of  this  important  locality.  In  GbucsIh  wo  read  (ch^ 
six.):  19.  "Icaunot  escape  to  the  mountain  (says  Lot, 
speaking  to  the  angels  who  have  come  to  Sudoui  for  tbo 
piirpoiic  of  cautioniug  him  to  leave  the  doomed  city),  lest 
some  evil  take  me  and  I  die."  30.  "  Behold  now  this  city 
is  near  to  Hoc  unto,  and  it  is  a  litUe  one :  ob,  let  mc  escape 
thither  (is  it  not  a  little  one  ?),  and  my  soul  shall  live." 

22.  "  Therefore  tlie  name  of  the  city  was  called   Zoar." 

23.  "  The  sun  was  risen  upon  the  earth  when  Lot  culcrcd 
into  Zoar." 

Wo  have  already  deduced,  fi-om  this  important  text, 
the  close  neighbourhood  that  must  necessarily  have  ex* 
isted  between  Zoar  and  Sodom.  Wo  see  besides  tliat 
Zoar  was  not  in  the  mountain,  since  Lot  says,  "^  I  cannot 
cseapo  to  the  mountain."  Auothor  sacred  text  gives 
additional  strength  to  this  observation.  We  read  (same 
chapter,  .\ix.  30) :  "  And  Lot  went  up  out  of  Zoar  and 
dwelt  in  the  mountain,  and  his  two  daughters  with  him, 
fur  ho  feared  to  dwell  in  Zuar  ;  and  ho  dwelt  in  a  cave^ 
ho  and  his  two  daughtui-s."  It  is  perfectly  clear  fium 
this,  that  to  enter  the  mountain  he  had  to  go  up  as  he 
went  out  from  Zoar.  Tlie  conclusion  then  is,  that  Zoar 
was  not  on  the  mountain,  hut  precisely  at  the  foot  of  the 
mountain,  since  the  angels  commanded  Lot  (v.  1 7)  not  to 
tan-y  in  any  part  of  the  plain,  but  to  fly  towards  the 
mountain.  I  believe  it  would  be  difficult  to  select  a  place 
answering  better  than  Zoucra-et-Tahtah  (the  lower  Zoar, 


IDENTIPICATION   OF  ZOAB. 


4H9 


or  Zoar  at  tho  foot  of  the  liills)  all  the  comlitions  ox- 
pressed  iu  these  difTorciit  passages  of  t)io  Biblo  :  and  if, 
besides  these  physical  couditions.  which  it  is  scarcely 
possible  to  mistake,  wo  find  still  attached  to  the  ruins  in 
question  the  identical  name  of  Zoar,  are  we  not  invincibly 
led  to  this  conclu«ion  that  KIiarbct-Zoiiera-et-Tahtah  and 
the  Zoar  of  the  Bible  are  one  and  tho  same  place  t  And 
jet,  such  is  the  strength  of  preconceived  opinions,  there 
are  travellers  wlio  have  visited  these  places,  and  who  etill 
believe,  with  Irby,  Mangles,  and  Robinson,  that  Zoar  was 
on  the  oa-ttom  shore  of  the  Dead  Sea. 

Let  us  now  proceed  with  our  cxamimition  of  the 
scriptural  texts  bearing  reference  to  Zoar. 

Tho  primitive  naiiio  of  Zoar  was  Bcla — so  tho  Bible 
testifies  iu  the  following  passages:* — "These  made  war 
with  Bera,  king  of  Sodom,  and  with  Birsha,  king  of 
Gomorrah;  Shinab,  king  of  Admah,  and  Sliemeber,  king 
of  Zeboiim,  and  the  king  of  Bela,  which  is  Zoar." 

"  Verse  8.  And  there  went  out  the  king  of  Sodom  and 
the  king  of  Gomorrah,  and  the  king  of  Admali,  the  king  of 
Zoboiim,  and  the  king  of  Bela  (the  same  is  Zoar),  and 
they  joiucd  battle  with  them  in  the  vale  of  Siddim." 
(Textnally,  in  the  valley  of  tho  fields;  tho  plural,  Siddim, 
being  here  preceded  by  the  article  ;  tbis  means  that  it 
ntaiiiu  its  general  signification,  and  tliat  it  is  not  to  bo 
taken  for  a  proper  name). 

The  origin  of  the  two  names,  Bela  and  Zoar,  is  welt 
worth  our  dwoUiog  upon  for  a  moment.  St  Jerome,  in 
his  commentary  on  Isaiah  xv.,  ftays,  when  speaking  of 
fiela,t   "Appellatur  Beta,   id   est  absorpta,  tradentibus 

*  OvncBu,  si*.  S. 
f  U  h  called  ltd*,  CT  Uw  Icat  eit;,  ■oevnling  to  tli«  lUbnlo  tmiuilation :  tlirt 


460 


iDBJmncATios  or  zoab. 


HcbrEDts  quod  t«rtJo  terras  motu  prostrata  sit :  ipsa  est 
qiue  hodic  Syro  scrmone  vocatur  Koara."  In  fact,  r?: 
moans  devorarit.  ahsorpstt,  perdidit  TbU  cxplauatioD  St. 
Jerome  repeats  again  io  anotJier  passage.  Also,  in  his 
"  Qiia'Stioi).  Hcbr.  to  Genesin,"  cap.  xir.  .1.  he  sajs : 
"  Tradunt  llebrmt  banc  caindcn  in  alio  Scripttiranini 
toco*  Salisa  uominari,  dicir|iie  nirsrim  ocrxor  Tpuri^unor^t 
id  est  Tittilani  cotit«rt]ant«m,  qumt  scilicet  tertio  tcmc 
motu  absorpta  sit."J  Lastly,  in  bis  commentary  on 
Genesis  (xix.  30).  be  repeats  again :  "  Do  S^or,  quod 
frequenter  terne  motu  subruta,  Beta  primum.  Ac." 

This  a)I(!gcd  origiu  of  the  name  Bola  may,  in  Roland's 
opinion  (not  mine),  bave  been  completely  derived  from 
the  orthography  of  the  word,  which  happens  to  have  a 
close  analogy  with  the  radical  rVa-  Roland  also  observes 
that  the  Hebraic  tradition  mentioned  by  St.  Jeron)e 
cannot  bo  admitted,  bocaiisc  Zoar  is  not  the  only  town 
vhich  is  called  in  the  Bible  a  heifer  tArve  t/eara  nld ;  for 
instance,  in  Jeremiah  (xlviii.  34)  we  read  :  "  From  the 
cry  of  Hesbon  oven  unto  Elealeh,  and  even  unto  Jahar, 
have  thuy  uttered  theii-  voice,  from  Zoar  oven  unto 
Iloronaim,  as  an  heifer  of  three  years  old."  Here  it  \s, 
(hen,  Horonaim  that  goes  by  the  metaphorical  expression 
in  question,  and  this  epithet  merely  means,  if  I  am  not 
mistaken,  that  the  localities  so  qualified  arc  fertile  and 
flourishing,  as  a  heifer  three  years  old  is  in  the  prime  of 


nuDfl  is  owing  t«  \1m  hning  bo«iii  dHtro3«d  lif  lliraa  ansMaltv  Mwthqulua.    ft 
i»  tL«  suu«  pUss  vhldi  ia  now  nlM  in  Sjrrian  "  Zcan-"— TuiaUMik 
•  1  aunnol,  li.  t.  t  iMixli,  IT.  5. 

t  "  Awvnliuii  to  the  Uobraia  tndhiou,  tiiii  plaoo  wm  kUo  coUod  )n  mmaa  oUMt 
(•Migo  of  tti«  ScHpliiTM.  'MhalUbn;'  kiid  St  wuot  bIm  hj  tXta  toeUphorial 
wpmnuii  of  ihtltiifn  tkne  gean  i)lil,—meuilag  tliul  11  bad  Inca  iloiiroyed  \>j 


IDENTEriUATIOS    Or    ZOAU. 


461 


N 


fleali  and  strength.*  As  to  tlio  xei-se  of  Samuel,  where 
mention  is  made  of  the  landofSlialislui,  there  is  ahsolutely 
notliiug  to  pi-ovu  tliat  Zoar  is  tlie  place  so  designated ; 
and  Cohen  has  not  even  taken  any  notice  of  this  rabbini- 
cal identification. 

Whatever  may  have  been  (he  real  origin  of  tliis  name, 
whether  it  had  a  tiignilicati%'e  meaning  or  not,  it  remains 
at  all  oTCnts  certain,  that  tlie  primitive  name  of  Zoar  was 
Bola.  On  vrhat  occasion,  and  for  what  reason,  this  name 
has  been  altered  aud  changed  fur  that  of  Zoar,  the  Holy 
Scriptures  will  tell  us. 

We  read  in  Genesis  (xix)  :  "  20.  Behold  now,  this  city 
is  near  to  flee  unto,  and  it  is  a  little  one  (says  Lot, 
speaking  to  the  angels  who  arc  commanding  him  to 
leave  the  doomed  city  of  Sodom).  Oli,  lot  me  escape 
tliither  (is  it  not  a  little  one  1 )  and  my  soul  shall 
live. 

"21.  And  he  said  unto  him,  See,  1  hare  accepted  thee 
couceruing  this  thing  also,  that  1  will  not  overthrow  tliis 
city,  for  the  which  thou  hast  spoken. 

*'  22.  Haste  thee,  escape  thither  ;  for  I  cannot  do  any- 
thing till  tliou  be  come  tliither.  Therefore  the  name  of 
the  city  was  called  Zoar." 

Is  it  not  palpably  evident  that  tliis  last  phrase,  wliich 
from  its  tenor  is  completely  misplaced,  is  nothing  more 


■  All  rauWi  iMj  not  upwe  with  cilhw  Bcland  »r  M.  d«  Saute; :  ■nJ  Uic  mm- 
maiitU7  of  St.  Jeroma  arnj  bo  coiuiiJvrai!  quiU  comet.  It  liM  bc«u  gcoanl); 
BDdantwM]  iliat  Uio  (xpnnjuu  iSiula  (oufenidU  lueuu  "  tMtlvw.  U-umUng.  and 
l^tat«d  w  « liuiftr  tlirw  ymm  'jIiL"  Tim  venojiist ciuot«l  from  J*a*iiii«li  iirijlil 
tlhM  Ia  b*  thm  Qodarvtboil :  "  Fraut  Eoor  to  Huroniuin  the  counttj  ia  rMtlcM 
and  ■gitBt«d  Uke  K  hdlbr  tliMe  jr«an  ulil;'  and  tUli  es|imnuii,  luktwwl  of  Bpplj- 
ins  onl;  to  tlio  luC  pWo,  applim  \i  both.  Tbon,  a^iii.  Si.  Joiamn'i  expUnBtion 
iroiUd  b«  pvrfvctly  nntunJ :  li^ln  niw  c^nnpitred  to  a  lialfcr  tln»o  yaav  old,  on 
aeoMint  «f  lU  boinit  kfpt  in  tTuimtatit  ngiutioii  by  •«rlh<inBka— TlUKM-iW^ 


46% 


IDKHTiriCATiON   OF  ZOAR. 


tliau  a  marginal  coraiueut,  interpolated  at  a  later  peiif 
by  the  error  of  some  copyist,  and  also  in  aii  inappropriate 
part  of  the  text  ? 

It  was  oviticntly  at  the  20th  verse,  after  the  words 
"  Is  it  not  a  little  one,"  that  the  comment  should  bare 
been  introduced.  Tkoroforc.  tlie  oame  of  the  city  was 
called  Zoar.  But  this  does  not  affect  the  general  argu- 
ment. The  name  of  Zoar,  written  in  Hebrew  isjt, 
in  Arabic  orthography  is  spelt  i:  (Za-ar),  It  is  quite 
true  that  in  Hebrew  ■x.-r  Qteans  to  he  smali,  from 
whence  the  derivative  nrrr,  smoB;  but  in  Arabic  s-j 
(Za-ar)  has  not  at  all  that  signification — meaning,  on 
the  contrary,  mtJiUude  abundance.  It  is  the  word^^*, 
from  the  radical  Ju>,1-  that  means  small,  and  is  equiraleot 
to  tlie  Hebrew  exprosKion. 

Judging  from  the  true  Arabic  orthography  of  the 
word  Zoar,  and  also  from  tlie  constant  pronunciation, 
from  the  biblical  times  down  to  the  present  period,  of 
the  name  of  this  identical  spot,  the  natives  having 
always  called  it  ZoufLr  or  Zoufira,  we  may  be  ted  to 
suppose  that  the  origin  of  tliis  name  (most  probably 
introduced  into  the  sacred  texts  by  intei-]x)Iation)  is 
not  entitled  to  absolute  credit.J  However,  I  must 
hasten  to  add  that  this  etymology  is  like^vise  given  by 

•  Soutir.  +  Bou-v. 

i  Hm  ffdr^  «i|  nnlon.  to.  dttr  wicb  U.  de  S>ulc]t.    if  wo  w*  to  Jodie 
<Bt»etiy byftt Awfcte WlllcillrtWwiMBtiiinwl. ^  tSouir)  ud^wio  <9iiaMn 

OMO*  oartaioljr  tiwirar.  u  to  proDunoutian,  t«  ZouAr  aod  Zuuin  iIim  i\ 
(Zo-w}.  Tbo  oDljrccQcliuIem  «-*  can  airiteat  frum  lii*  otsuQwdI  U,tkaL  ika  mm* 
Zoar  ii  now  {nc«iT«etl;  tpvlt  in  Anbic  ij  {Zu-n).  ETiddnll;,  M.  de  SmUc^  it 
■till  hlmiiriiie  bem  under  III*  iinprMHion  of  lli*  •jiitliM  rittJa  cm/enMM,  *pfdM 
to  tl>e  ani)[|ibuuihi>od  of  Za«r.  bcvag  mcAnt  u  u|atMfng  ftrtl^,  • 


I 

I 

I 


iDBimriCATios  OP  ZOAH. 


40d 


N 


Josephus  :  Zcup  in  koX  yvv  Ktytrat.  KaAot«(  yap  oi/riuv, 
Efipa&i  ri  dAiyov :  "  It  is  named  cvou  up  to  this  (lay  Zoor, 
bociiusc  the  Hebrews  ^ve  this  name  to  anjtliiiig  t/iat  is 
smalt."' 

We  h^re  collected  together  all   tho  passBges  of  the 
sacred  aiid  profane  texts  that  could  assist  us  in  dcter- 
luiuing  the  position  of  Zoar,    and    we    liave    alread^r 
concluded    from    thcui    tho    necessary  and    undonlahlo 
identity  of  the  bibliutl  Zoar  with  the  Zoucra-ct-Talitah, 
tho  ruins  of  which  are  to  be  seen  tu  the  right  and  loft  of 
the  opening  of  the  Oiiad-ez-Zouera.     We  need  not,  tlien, 
imiist  any  longer  upon  the  legitimacy  of  this  identification. 
According  to  St  Jerome,  Zoar  divided  Palestine  from 
the  Land  of  Muab ;  the  consequence  is,  that  a  portion  of 
tho  country  lying  south  of  Zoar  must  have  belonged  to 
the  Moabites.     1  have  (juotcd  above  the  scriptural  verses 
mentioning,  in  reference    to    the    frontiers    of  Moab,   a 
I        place  called  Soufah,  brought  fonvanl  (in  .1  plu'asc  rather 
^M  ambiguously  expressed)  in  opposition  to  the  torrents  of 
^1  the  valley  of  tho  Arnon.     I  hare  concluded  from  that 
^BiSWIS^  that,  if  Soufali  was  a  tocahty,  it  must  have  beoD 
^^sftualod  south  of  the  Moabitic  country.     More  thau  ever 
L    I  am  confirmed  in  my  opinion  ou  tliis  point,  precisely 
^P  because  the  mountain   which    is   in    immodiutc  contact 
southward  with  the  DjebcI-cz-Zouera  is.  even  up  to  this 
day,  called  Djebel-ez-Soufah.     I  most  firmly  bt-Iieve  that, 
in  this  iiiHtance  again,  a  scriptural  name,  mismiderstood 
until  now,  has  been  preserved  unaltered ;  and  that  a  ]»Iace 
called  from  tlie  highest  anti(|uity  Ouahab  has  existed 
towarih*  the  foot  of  the  DjeheI-oz-3oufah,  which  was  then 
at  the  extreme  frontier  of  tho  laud  of  the  Moabites. 

•  BeL  Jttd.  1.  xL  4. 


4M 


n>BNTIPlCATION   Of  ZOAR. 


T  have  already  JiscusscJ  tlie  propriety  of  iileatifyh^ 
with  the  Khnrbct  and  tlio  Bordj-L-u-Nctiioirch  tbo  niitu 
of  Nimrini.  which  became  afterwards  Deiuieiiiariia  and 
Bemuunoritun.  It  is  tltorefore  needless  to  go  over  tbe 
same  ground  agaiu.  The  like  obaervatioi)  applies  to 
Adjcrrah,  which  I  positively  identify  with  the  Eglaim  d' 
the  Scriptures  and  the  AgalU  of  JoKCphus. 

I  have  mentioned  in  my  itinerary  the  ruins,  Ix^iuning 
at  the  Talaa-Sebaan,  and  extending  over  seTeral  consa- 
cuUre  ranges  of  high  flat  country,  situated  at  the  fuot  of 
the  mountains  of  Moab,  and  from  tlio  mouth  of  the  Onad- 
ed-Draa  as  far  os  the  shore  of  the  Dead  Sea  :  I  distinctly 
recognise  in  these  8tu])cnd»us  ruins  the  remains  of  tJie 
Zeboiim  that  perished  in  the  common  catastrophe  of  tlic 
Pentapohs.  A  town  so  considerable,  and  tJie  existeuce  of 
which  is  attested  by  the  ruins  in  quention,  cannot  possibly 
have  existed  taioherei^d  tliro\igh  the  centuries  whose 
detailed  history  has  been  handed  down  to  us.  Several 
terrific  craters — three  at  least — surrouud  tlie  site  which 
I  lay  down  for  Zeboiim,  and  tlioy  must  have  accomplished 
instantaneously  tlie  destruction  of  this  guilty  city  ;  tbe 
explosions  proceeding  from  three  directions  at  the  same 
time  must  have  reduced  it  to  atoms  at  once.  There  is 
iiotliing.  absolutely  nothing,  to  prove  that  all  the  doomed 
cities  were  situated  on  tlie  same  western  sbore  of  the 
Dead  Sea.  There  is,  on  the  contrary,  strong  presumptive 
evidence  in  favour  of  the  opinion  wliich  I  think  myself 
bound  to  set  forth,  that  one  at  least  of  the  cities  of  the 
Pcatapolis  must  have  been  on  the  eastern  shore.  Ailer 
the  catastrophe  was  ouce  accomplished,  why  sliould  Lot 
have  gone  up  into  the  mountain  above  Zoar,  instead  of 
taking  refuge  on  the  caaleni  shore,  which  ought  to  hare 


BUINS   or  ZEDOEIM. 


Ml 


^ 


appeared  to  hira  a  much  safer  retreat^  if  tlic  terrible  clia»- 
Usemcnt  had  not  spronJ  over  that  sliore  likcwige  l  *  Can 
it  b«  argued  that  it  was  not  inlmhitod  ?  This  scenis  very 
unlikely,  for  thoro  was  no  reason  why  the  shore,  after- 
wards inhabited  by  the  Moabitic  people,  should  not  have 
been  quite  an  fertile  as  the  remainder  of  the  plain.  We 
also  know  positively  that  the  Kniims  inhabited  that 
country,  and  it  is  rery  probable  that  Zeboiim  was  a  city 
of  the  Eutims. 

Neither  Lot  nor  liLs  daughters,  who  had  long  dwelt 
in  Sodom,  could  be  ignorant  of  the  existence  of  a 
numerouji  population  on  the  oppotsite  shore ;  and  the 
daughtera  of  the  patriarch  would  not  have  believed  in  the 
total  destruction  of  the  human  species.  If  the  scourge 
which  had  driven  them  from  Sodom  had  not  likewise 
fallen,  under  their  own  eyes,  upon  the  shore  opposite  to 
that  where  they  had  sought  a  refuge.  Bcaides,  the 
injunction  of  the  angtjis  who  summoned  the  patriarch  to 
fly  from  Sodom  was  most  formal,  "Look  not  behind 
thee,  neither  stay  thou  in  all  the  plain ;  escape  to  the 
mountain,  lest  tliou  be  consumed."'  Such  is  their  expres- 
sion ;  consequently,  the  whole  plain  was  threatened  and 
was  about  to  be  ruined.  Nobody  can  possibly  imagine 
that  the  eastern  part  of  the  plain  should  have  escaped  the 
general  cacastropho. 

BTerything  duty  considered,  cities  could  and  must  have 
existed  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains  of  Moab  ;  and  there 
is  nothing  to  hinder  us  from  believing  tliat  one  of  the 
cities  of  the  Pentapolls  did  exist  in  this  place.  Conse- 
quently, since    1  find  in  this  very  region  a  stupendous 


*  It  atky  b«  roplind  U>  tlilit,  tluit  IM  mi  onlarod  by  Dhrino  conuund  to 
I  in  Ui«  uoimUiiM.-  TiuxsukTOB. 


iM 


KKBaAX    and   ZBUtillU. 


town  cruKlted  into  rums  by  the  craters  of  rolcanic  ertip« 
tioiiH  liun-uuQdiiig  it.  and  part  of  wliicli  is  »till,  to  this 
very  day,  called  .Seb&au,  1  caonot  besitate  to  rccoguLw 
in  it  the  Zebuiiui  of  the  Scriptures ;  and  I  do  so  with 
Htill  grootcr  coiirictJon  from  this  cimimstaiice — that  tbeu 
ruins,  besides  being  aiinilar  to  those  of  Sodom,  cannot 
possibly  he  identified  witJi  any  other  city  of  auciout  tiiue& 
Besides,  were  ohjcctious  to  bo  made  as  to  admitting  the 
existence  of  any  one  of  the  cities  of  the  Pentapolis  un 
the  eastern  shore  of  the  Dead  iSea,  it  would  be  giring  al 
once  a  death-blow  to  the  presumptioua  upon  which  Irby 
and  Mangles  iu  t]ie  first  instance,  then  Robinson  and 
otiier  travellers  after  tliem,  have  tried  to  establish  that 
the  ruins  sitiMted  iu  the  proximity  of  the  peninsula  of 
Kl-Mczn'tah  are  those  of  Zoar.  I<et  us  repeat  again  : 
Sodom  could  not  be  much  more  than  luUf  a  league  distant 
from  Zoar,  aud  in  that  caso  Sodom,  according  to  these 
learned  tra\'ellers,  should  have  been  necessarily,  as  a 
forced  couaoqueucc,  tiituated  hkcwiso  on  the  eastern  sliore 
of  the  Dead  Sea,  whether  thia  sea  existed  before  or 
not  — ft  circumstance  which  caunot  alter  the  case^  as  at 
all  events  the  horizontal  distances  must  hai*e  remained 
the  same. 

In  conclusion,  [  hope  1  may  be  allowed  to  make  uee 
of  the  same  privilege  as  that  exercised  by  these  gentlemen 
in  fixing  Zeboiim  on  the  site  of  the  Kharbet-Sebaaii, 
witli  a  safer  foundation  than  they  had  when  they  arbi- 
trarily laid  down  Zoar  at  this  point,  without  being  able 
to  produce  a  single  text  or  a  single  traditionary  report  to 
sanction  tlieir  hypothesis. 

As  iu  the  cases  of  Nimiim  and  AdjcUm,  1  have 
alrea^ly  pointed   out  the  pcnnanency  of  the   scriptural 


i 


i 


dtfMMi 


I 


RUINS   OK   LUHITH. 


4«7 


appcUatiou  in  rcspoct  to  tlic  poninnula  of  the  Bead  Sen. 
Id  tlie  clays  of  Moses  it  was  called  n&Vi  (the  tongue) ; 
at  the  present  timo  it  is  still  called  jjUJJl  El-Lisan  (tlio 
tougue). 

Luhitli  is  anotlior  place,  the  correct  site  of  whicli  it  is 
raost  iniport-fint  to  detorniinc.  When  Eusobius  lived  and 
wrote,  it  waa  situated  on  the  road  from  Areopolia  to 
Zoor.  Holy  writ  places  it  on  the  acclivity  of  a  mountain  ; 
such  being  the  case,  Luhith — situated  on  the  beaten  track 
leading  from  Arcopolis  to  Zoar,  which  road,  without 
any  doubt,  passed  through  the  Ouad-ebni-Hamniid^must 
necessarily  liavo  been  situated  in  tUe  ouad  leading  up 
from  the  coast  of  Jloab  to  the  plain  of  Areopolis.  Now 
it  so  happens  that  the  last  ascent  loading  up  to  this 
elernted  plain,  reaches,  through  stupendous  ruins,  a  moun- 
tain called  Djobel-Nouehin  or  Noueliid  :  these  ruins 
bearing  likewise  the  same  name  of  Nouchin  or  NouehJd. 
But  the  letters  L  and  N  in  the  mouth  of  the  Arabs  of 
this  country,  interchange  pronunciation  with  great  facility ; 
and,  consequently,  I  have  not  the  slightest  hesitation  in 
finding  in  the  ruins,  and  the  mountain  of  Nouehid,  the 
ruins  and  the  ascent  of  Luhith. 

BusebiuB  has  made  known  to  us  the  existence  of  a 
Moabitic  town  called  Medaba,  eight  miles  distant  from 
Areopolis,  on  the  elevatcrl  plain  extending  south  of  tJio 
Araon,  just  as  another  Medaba,  situated  nearly  opposite, 
was  placed  on  the  elevated  plain  extending  north  of  tlie 
Anion.  If  the  reader  happens  to  remember  tliat  the 
valley  dividing  the  immense  niins  of  the  Kharbct- 
Fouqo&a,  with  its  two  flanks  covered  with  the  remains  of 
a  considerable  city,  is  called  Ouad-Emdebtia,  I  suppose 
he  will  not  be  astonished  if  I  formally  propose  to  identity 


468 


Utiltta  OF  SlUOK. 


1 


tho  Hedaba  of  Biiscbiua  vith  tlio  ruined  town  that 
covers  both  (laaks  of  the  Ouail-Kmdebfia.  It  is  true, 
tboro  existii  at  the  very  foot  of  thu  hill  upon  which  Karak 
la  built  ail  OuB(t-eI<}ilcUabeb  ;  but  this  ouad  immcdiatdj 
takes  another  namo,  and  can  hare  nothing  iu  conuooa 
with  the  Mcdaba  of  Kuscbius. 

U  has  been  ehown  that  Schihao  is  a  very  rcmarkablA 
locnlitv ;  and  I  have  had  no  hesitation  iu  reco^isiug  in 
the  ruin  crowning  the  hill  of  Schihao.  oac  of  thoM 
temples  which  were  buUt  on  the  high  pkcee.  If  we  recall 
to  our  minds  the  words  of  Jeremiah  (xlvtii.  45) — "A  fin 
shall  come  forth  out  of  Ilcithbou,  and  a  Qame  from  the 
midst  of  Sihou,  and  shall  devour  the  corner  of  Moab  " — 
no  one,  I  suppose,  will  be  surprised  if  I  discover  the 
biblical  Sihon  iu  the  Schihan  of  our  own  daja,  and  if  I 
propuso  this  identification  with  perfect  confidence. 

We  have  seen  that  a  ^erse  of  Isaiah  (xv.  7)  roentiona 
a  "  brook  of  the  willows :" — "  Therefore,"  says  the  prophet, 
"  the  abundance  they  have  gotten,  and  that  which  they 
have  laid  up,  diall  they  carry  away  to  the  brook  of  the 
willows." 

A  httle  before,  at  verse  5,  it  is  said,  "  Ilia  fugitives 
eliall  flee  unto  Zoar."  Evidently  these  ftigitJvos  were 
flying  before  the  enemy  ;  and  the  torrent  of  tho  willows 
must  have  boon  on  the  road  fix)m  the  elevated  plain  of 
iloab  to  Zoar.  Besides,  the  especial  distinctive  denomi- 
nation of  (Ae  brook  of  the  willows  proves  clearly  that 
there  were  not  several  water-courses  entitled  to  tltat 
name.  I  therefore  presume  to  recognise  llic  "  brook  of 
the  willows"  of  the  Bible,  in  tho  water-course  having 
its  bed  filled  with  the  Salij!  Jia&^hnica,  and  coming 
down  under  the  name  of  Soil-Ouad-ehni-IIammid,  from 


> 


BtnNS  OF   EABBATH   MOAR. 


400 


I 


I 


the  identical  valley  through  which  the  ancient  road 
passes. 

With  respect  to  tlio  towns  of  Er-Rabbah  and  KaraJc, 
genera]  record  identifies  them,  the  first  with  Rahbalh- 
Moah,  the  second  \vith  iiir-Moab.  It  is  therefore  needless 
to  discuss  at  any  great  length  the  soundness  of  this 
double  idontilication :  1  shall  merely  sinn  up.  in  the 
ghortest  possible  notice,  the  principal  historical  facts 
concerning  these  two  placed. 

The  original  name  of  Areopolis  was  Ar ;  this  narne 
meaning  literally  loivn.  According  to  the  testimony  of 
Theodoret.*  this  town  has  hocn  also  called  Ariel.  Tho 
same  indication  is  ^ven  a  second  time  by  tho  same 
author,  in  his  commentary  on  tlic  twenty-ninth  cliapter 
of  Isaiah.  This  is  very  possible  ;  but  it  is  by  no  means 
certain  that  tho  ptaco  so  named  might  not  have  bceu 
another  locahty.  Sozomen  mentions  A reopohs  as  being 
an  Arabian  town,  when  in  fact  it  was  situated  in  the 
third  Paicstbio.  He  mentions  also  (1.  Tiii.  15),  that  in 
Arabia,  the  Petra>aii8  and  tho  Areopolitans  fought  witli 
great  fury  to  dcfond  the  temples  of  their  gods.  Stephens, 
in  his  Ethnicals,  tells  us  that  Arenpulis  is  identical  with 
Babath-liloba,  which  is  ondcntly  the  same  as  Rabbath- 
Moab.  St.  Jerome  t  gives  us  tho  real  origin  of  the  name 
of  Areopolis,  and  has  warned  us  against  the  temptation 
■of  translating  this  name  by  the  city  of  JIars. 

In  the  Nodlia  dit/nitatum  mperii,  we  read — 

ODbora  Uatih  ■Jpinortuu  *[iud  AraoDit 

ODbur*  Urtit  felU  AnbuiaEn  ripavuli  ApliarufluTu.in  cartiu  ArnoiiMMibiu. 

EqidtM  Kauri  lllf  liciud  ArMpolL 

[And  listly — 

E>iiiitei  promoti  indi^iBG  Spflnucia. 

+  OMaa.  on  Jothua,  it. 


VALLEY   or  THB   ABSOK. 


Wc  aro  tbiLS  fiill^v  inforinod  tus  to  ttic  nature  of  the 
gfUTtsou  in  Areopolis  and  on  the  banks  of  the  Aruou 
at  the  period  whon  the  ^otitia  waa  published.  EiiBcbii» 
and  St.  Jerome,  iu  tJic  Onomasticou  (ad  roccm  'AfnW). 
mention  that  to  the  northward  there  is  a  place  of  that 
name,  Arnou,  containiug  a  garrison.  Tho  expressions 
made  use  of  hy  St.  Jerome  are  exactly  these :  "  In  satis 
horribili  loco  vallis  iu  pncrupta  domcrsa;."  This  abrupt 
vallcj  is,  no  doubt,  tbat  of  the  Amon.  Iteland  has 
already  propose<l  to  identify  this  same  place  with  that 
mentioned  in  tho  passage  of  the  Notitia,  in  which  tt  is 
said  that  the  "  GquJtes  promoti  indigenoj "  are  located  at 
tlio  SpduncEB.  If  now  wo  choooe  to  rerucmbcr  that  e-rvt 
(Horohaim),  the  name  of  a  Moabitic  locality  often  mou- 
tiuncd  in  the  Scriptures,  means  ifie  two  caverns,  we  shall 
be  naturally  led  to  identify  the  Speiunca  of  the  Kotitia 
with  the  Horonaim  of  the  Bible. 

Two  Greek  notices  of  the  patriai-cliates,  the  aoconJ  of 
which  ia  referred  to  tho  i)eriod  of  the  Emperor  Leo 
Augustus,  are  inserted  in  the  vast  collection  of  tk 
Byzantine   writers.      The    first  gives  us :    napaxjuviM 

(read     XapoKina^a)      'AptinoXu    {' .Kptivokis),    M<i^i}t.  'EAoGn^ 
ZaCpa,   Bipocraump   (read    Bt/ioira^eot'). 

The    second  :      Xopayfurfx*.     'ApcrfffoAir,    M<J«^«,    'EXoCm, 
Z<uopa,    Bipovaffaiv, 

When  these  two  lists  were  compiled,  most  unqucstioft- 
ablc  ArcopoUii  was  an  ecclesiastical  seat.  Let  us  observe 
casually  that  Zoar  is  placed  in  this  list  between  Eloosa 
and  Birecba.  This  last  city  is  at  the  southern  extremity 
of  the  territory  of  Judah.  Elousa  is  phiced  by  Ptolemy 
amongst  the  dtics  of  Idumea,  situated  westward  of  the 
Jvrdau.  But  then,  since  Zoar  is  mentioned  as  being  bctwccu 


ARBOKiUS. 


471 


these  two  localities,  Zoar  was  ucccssarily  on  the  western 
shore  of  the  Dead  Sea,  in  a  prolongation  of  llic  valley 
of  tlie  Jordaji.* 

Areopoh's  was  an  episcopal  city,  and  we  know  tlie  fullow- 
ing  names  of  the  prelates  who  were  seated  there :  1 . 
Anastasius,  who  is  mentioned  in  the  Acts  of  Epiiosua, 
inserted  in  the  Council  of  Chalcedoii.t  2.  Polyclironins, 
who  is  named  in  the  letter  of  John  of  Jerusalem,  inserted 
in  the  Acts  of  the  Council  of  Constautinoplcj  and 
writt«D  in  the  name  of  the  bbhops  of  the  three  Palcsiitincs, 
3.  Helius,  who  subscribed  to  the  Acts  of  the  Council  of 
Jerusalem  held  a.d.  536. § 

The  last  mention  of  Areopolis  which  I  find  made  in 
the  ancient  wntonj  is  from  the  pen  of  St.  Jerome.  {|     It 
nins  OB  follows :  "  Audivi  quemdam  Areopoliten,  eed  ct 
omnia  ciritaa  testis    eat,    motu    terrsB   magno  in  mea 
in^ntia,    qiiando    totius    orbis    littus    (rnnsgrcssa    sunt 
maris,  cadcm  riocte  inuros  urbis  istius  corriiisse."f     From 
tlie  writings  of  Ammiamis  MarccllinuH  it  has  been  ascer- 
tained that  this  event  took  place  in  the  year  of  our  Lord 
315,  under  the   consulate   of  Valcntiniau  and   Valcns. 
B  This  dale  is  of  very  great  importance,  since  it  determines 
"the  period  of  the  destruction  of  the  monuments  of  Areo- 
polis, and  amongst  tliem  that  of  the  Roman  gate,  tlio 
state   of  which  at  the  present  day  exhibits  tlie   most 
decisive  evidence  of  the  severity  of  the  earthquake  by 
Kvhich  it  was  partially  overthrown. 

^V        *  ttvluiil,  Pftl.  |i.  ICS-  f  Octwrn!  Counetts,  tomo  it.  p.  113. 

^K  0«iMnl  Couiuil*,  tmas  t.  p.  iVi.  i  0«iienl  CauticiU,tonio  t.  p.  SSI. 

^K  11  Cumm.  cm  Iwuab.  XT. 

^^  ^  I  haTB  hinrd  of  thU  ArcopolU  (wbsn  it  Mill  raixtwl),  liiit  the  whnla  city  oui 
Tonrh  for  Iho  IruUi  p(  my  uurtidi.  llml  in  th»  tixaa  «t  my  childhood,  from  the 
tffvcU  of  ■  Uvin«nito<»  (lu-th'iUKke,  wb«D  tho  mu  hnAv  ot«i'  tho  «livrm  of  tli« 
whole  t«rtli,  the  mill  of  thi«  town  wrto  ororttirriwn  in  *  *inglo  nighc. 


472 


ER-BABBA. 


The  original  namo  of  Areopolis,  Rabbath-Moab,  the 
capital  of  Moab,  bas  remained  nearly  unaltered  up  w 
tliis  day,  for  tlic  ruins  of  lliia  town  arc  still  called  Kr- 
Uabba,  whilst  not  a  trace  subsists  in  the  ineniory  of  tbc 
inhabitants  of  tlic  country,  of  the  comparatively  modem 
appellation  of  ArcopoUs. 

Let  as  now  jiass  to  ICarak.  Not  the  slightest  doubt 
can  arise  as  to  the  identity  of  Karak  vith  Xapanfu^ 
(Karak  of  Moab).  Ptolemy  mentions  this  pla<'o  among 
the  cities  of  Arabia  I'ctrasa,  and  assigns  to  it  the  follcv- 
ing  longitude  and  latitude,  GG^"  and  30**.  In  the  aocieBt 
ecclesiastical  notices  it  bears  tlie  name  of  Xo^y^ot'X'')  ^ 
the  Biill  more  eovrupt  one,  owing  to  the  carelcsenees  of 
copyista,  of  Tlap^'xjiMixw,  and  it  has  been  classed  amorigst 
the  cities  of  the  third  Palestine.  Stephens,  in  the  Ethni- 
cals,  says,  tliat  in  his  day  this  town  was  considered  a 
part  of  the  third  Palestine,  but  that  Ptolemy,  who  might 
be  relied  upon,  had  classed  it  amongst  ibe  Arabian  cities. 
lie  adds,  that  it  went  bIho  by  the  name  of  MmjSovxai^. 

This  city  was  the  seat  of  a  iMshopric,  for  we  finil 
amongst  the  prelates  who  subscribed  to  the  Council  of 
Jerusalem  in  936,  Dcmotrius  Xapcutfu^^uv. 

At  the  period  of  tlie  crusades,  Karak  became  a  nuM 
imporfant  place,  as  tho  advanced  [WHtt  of  the  ChristiiM 
in  Arabia.  We  find  the  following  notice  in  the  narrative 
of  Foucher  de  Chartres  (ch.  xliii.)  :  "  la  1 115,  tbc  king 
went  to  Arabia,  and  built  tberc  a  castle  on  a  certain 
mountain,  which  he  recognised  as  having  been  situated, 
&om  tho  remotest  period  of  antiquity,  in  a  commandii^ 
situation,  not  far  from  the  Red  Sea  ;  distant  about  tliree 
days'  march  fi-om  that  sea,  and  four  days'  march  from 
Jerusalem.     Baldwin  placed  a  strong  garrison   tu  this 


ACCOUNT  OK   WILLIAM   OP  TTRK. 


478 


I 


casUc,  with  the  object  of  commanding  all  the  surrounding 
country,  for  the  advantage  of  the  Christians,  ajid  lie 
ordered  that  it  should  be  called  Mont-Real,  in  honour 
of  himself,  who  had  constructed  this  fort  in  a  very  short 
time,  with  few  people  to  assist  him,  and  with  remarkahlo 
boKlness." 

A  Utile  further  on  (ch.  xliv.)  we  read  agaiii  :  "  In  1116, 
the  king  wont  to  visit  the  castle,  and  proceeded  on  as 
for  as  the  Red  Sea,  to  reconnoitre  a  ooiuitry  that  he  had 
not  yet  seen,  and  to  examine  if,  by  chance,  he  should 
not  find  there  some  of  the  things  that  wc  were  in 
want  of" 

William  of  Tyre  relates  the  same  facta  as  occurring 
m  the  year  1115  (Hb.  xi.  ch.  xxvi.).  Thbi  historian 
infoi-ras  us  that  in  1 1 72  Saladin  besieged  Klont^i-cal, 
but  witliout  success   (Ub.  xx.  ch.  xxvii.).     Some  years 

^anc^wardB  (in  1 1 63)  the  same  Emir  undertook  a  second 
time  the  eiege  of  Kai'uk,  and  succeeded  insetting  pos- 
■BMioQ  d  it  (lib.  xxii.  ch.  xxriii.).  "It  showed  great 
talent  on  his  part,"  eays  the  historian,  "to  have  taken  by 
siege  a  city  anciently  calle<l  the  Stone  of  the  Desert,  mn 
Pen  la  desiae  ore  te  Cyac—hui  now  they  call  it  the  Krac." 
Rcnaud  de  Chastillon  was  then  lord  of  {Sire  dtt)  the  Krak 
of  Ilont-Real,  i/  csUiit  »ire  (h  ce/e  lerre  de  par  i'eritaffe  ne 
fame.  Everybody  knows  that  Rcnaud  de  Chastilloo, 
banng  fallen  into  the  power  of  Saladin,  was  put  to  death 

I  in  presence  of  this  prince,  who  refused  to  exercise  his 
usual  generosity  in  bis  botialf,  being  determined  to 
revenge,  by  the  death  of  the  lord  of  Karak,  the  pillage  of 
a  Jiiohammedan  caravan  which  this  chieftain  tiad  inter- 
cepted and  plundered  some  time  before. 

Such  an  important  military  position  as  that  of  Karak 


KAKAK. 

list  hare  bc«n  (urood  to  ftctvantogc  and  occupte<I  from 
the  remotest  nntiqiiity  ;  and  it  U  exceedingly  probable 
tliat  the  modern  Ivarak  is  built  on  dio  situ  of  tlie  stroog 
phico  of  Moab,  which  is  called  in  the  Holy  ScripturtB 
by  the  names  of  Kir-Moab,  Ivir-Uareseth,  Kir-haresh. 
Kir-hcrcs,  and  evcu  Kir-Kheraseth." 

Wc  have  seen  that  the  valley  of  the  Arnon  ts  now 
called  by  the  name  of  Ouad-el-Moiidjcb.  Has  this  name 
a  signiBcation  1  I  cannot  say;t  aud  am  inclined  to  think 
not  Or,  rather,  docs  it  not  contain  the  indirect  tradition 
fa  city  of  the  Land  of  Moab !  Wl>at  might  lead  os  to 
suppose  so  is  the  first  verse  of  chapter  xlviiL  of  Jeremiah 
iu  which  wo  read  :  "  z^tgon  Heniesjeh  is  confounded  and 
dismayed."  This  Hebraic  word  Hemesjeb,  means  any 
high  and  fortified  ground ;  but  several  commentators; 
Bach  as  Raschi  and  Kimhi,  declare  that  it  is  tlic  name  of 
a  particular  place.  If  so,  it3  pronunciation  is  likely  to  be 
yery  uncertain.  This  name  has  been  transcribed  Misgab; 
(but  notliing  proves  that  it  ought  not  to  have  been  trau- 
'Bcribcd  Mousdjcb,  and  in  that  case  would  be  almoet 
identical  witli  the  modem  name  EI-MoudJcb  retained  by 
the  Arnon.  Tliia  hypothesis  may  bo  a  sound  one,  but  I 
by  no  means  insist  upon  it. 

To  wind  up  geographical  references  regarding  the  I-ind 
of  Moab,  I  turn  to  another  veree  of  llie  first  book  of 
Samuel  (xxii.  3),  where  it  is  written  :  "  And  David  went 
tlicnce  (from  the  cave  of  Adullam)  to  Mizpeh  of  Moab: 
and  he  said  unto  the  Ring  of  Moab^  Let  my  father  and 

B  *  Unkli.  rn.  7  oaa  11 :  J«rcii>mli,  xlvlU.  81 ;  Ktugi,  a.  13,  W. 

^  t  Id  <Ii«  KkTDouit  Uie  plunl  (.^>».^u0  mcuu  ttntlUag  jt'wn^  whan  SNdi 
throw  mch  other  J.ikii  tar  ox«rciac>.  In  tliiit  cMt,  t1i«  vtllej-  of  tb«  Aukid  wodJ 
nioan  tlia  ykXUj  oT  tha  wr«ttinK-|>li>en.  Ihit  llii*  w«di«  to  dm  man  Unn 
dcnidiriil. 


i 


TKK   KIMOS   KOADB  OP   UOaB. 


475 


I 
I 


I 


my  mother,  I  pray  thee,  come  forth,  and  be  witJi  you, 
till  1  know  what  Gotl  will  do  for  me."  I  am  completely 
ignorant  as  to  whether  any  traces  exist  of  this  Mizpeh  of 
Moah. 

It  remains  only  to  speak  of  the  singular  roads,  with 
fixed  stones,  which  we  have  found  in  great  numbers  in  the 
plain  of  Moab.  I  consider  them  as  no  other  than  those 
ancient  roads  mentioned  in  the  Book  of  Numbers  (xxi.)  ; 
21.  "And  Israel  sent  messengers  unto  Silion.  King  of  the 
Amorites,  saying  (22),  Let  mo  pass  through  thy  laud  : 
■we  will  not  turn  into  the  fields,  or  into  the  vineyards  ;  wc 
Vfill  not  drink  the  waters  of  the  well  :  but  wo  will  go 
along  by  the  king's  highway,  until  we  be  past  thy 
borders." 

It  seems  to  me  very  probable  that  the  beaten  tracks 
then  called  tVon  Tn,  as  they  arc  designated  at  present 

Qa)_3<  i_jy«  (Zarab-el-SuItiin-^tho  king's  roads),  were 
bordered,  right  and  left,  by  long  piles  of  large  stones,  so 
that  there  might  be  no  possibility  of  turning  out  of  them, 
to  enter  the  cultivated  lands,  under  the  pretext  that  they 
were  not  clearly  defined.  Besides,  this  mode  of  marking 
out  the  roads  was  not  peculiar  to  the  Moabitcs,  since  the 
American  officers  sent  by  Captain  Lynch  to  Masada,  on 
the  eastern  shore  of  the  Bead  Sea,  fell  in,  beyond  the 
Ouad-ca-8cya!,  witli  a  road  of  exactly  the  same  descrip- 
tion ;  and  I  myself  have  since  found  another  at  Djcnibah, 
a  locality  presenting  very  evident  signs  of  a  towu 
contemporaneous  with  the  remotest  biblical  periods,  and 
situated  between  Zoar  and  Hebron  ;  that  is  to  say,  in  Uio 
land  of  Canaan.  There  is  then  strong  reason  to  suppose 
that  the  roads  on  which  we  travelled  in  the  Land  of  Moab 
were  "  the  king's  highways."  of  the  same  description  as 


476 


PUEVIOUS  TRAVBU.KIt6   IM   HOAB. 


those  which  the  IsTRelites  engajred  to  foUow  without  any 
deviation,  through  the  territory  of  Stbou.  King  of  tbo 
Amontcs. 

The  information  that  had  reached  us  up  to  the  present 
day  conccruitig  the  modoni  state  of  the  Tjuid  of  Moab 
was  very  inconsiderable,  although  the  district  properly  so 
callc<]  had  been  already  twice  expIore<l,  without  taking 
iuLo  aocouut  the  cxcumion  made,  in  1822,  by  a  Mr.  Hyde, 
whose  name  we  found  incribcd  on  the  wnlU  of  tlie  t«Dip1e 
of  Bcit-el-Kcrm.  First  of  all,  the  celebrated  Hurckluirdt 
visited  Ihiii  straugo  country  in  1811 :  he  began  by 
travelling  through  the  country  of  Amori,  situated  north 
of  the  Anion,  where  he  discovered  the  sitca  of  several 
hibhcal  locaUtics  ;  for  instance,  those  of  Afedeba  and 
El-Aaleh.  Having  next  crossed  the  Amon,  wliich  he  Uys 
down  as  a  boundary  between  tJic  provinces  of  fielka  and 
Karak,  ho  crossed  tlie  plain  which  1  travelled  over  myself, 
but  more  to  the  eastward  than  1  did.  Accordingly  he 
passed  within  sight  of  the  hill  of  Schilian,  which  he  left  nt 
a  distance  of  th)-oc-quart«i-s  of  au  hour's  walk  to  his  right 
without  visiting  it.  From  the  place  called  MehalcM- 
Hadj,  he  found  a  paved  read  leading  towards  !Ubb« : 
that  is  to  say,  in  a  south-westerly  direction.  He  passed 
through  Beit-el-K  erm,  and  stopped  at  tlie  niins  of 
the  temple,  to  whicli  ho  attributes,  without  sufficient 
cause,  a  very  remote  antiquity.  He  falls  into  anotlic^r 
error  when  ho  says  that  the  faij-ade  of  that  temple  was  ati 
octostyle  (a  front  of  eight  pillars),  and  that  those  pilUrs 
were  only  three  foot  in  diameter.  We  oufscIfcs  saw  that 
the  fiti;'ado  is  a  tetrastyle  (a  front  of  four  pillars),  and  that 
these  columns  are  of  much  larger  dinieiiHions.  He  dis- 
covered, as  wo  did,  amongst  the  maas  of  ruins,  fragmcnu 


UUltCKIIAItDT    IS    llill. 


477 


^ 

I 
^ 


^ 


■  1-1 

ofcoIuioDS  of  smaller  proportions,  but  eTidently  bcloug^g 
to  other  builUiiigs. 

At  a  (listauce  of  an  hour  and  three-qiiartere'  ride  from 
Boit-el-Kerm  (*jSll  <JUu),  liurckliardt  fell  in  with  the  ruinud 
village  of  Hamoimat  {oU**»-)  ;  froni  thence  he  visited 
the  remains  of  Er-Rabba.  Three-quarters  of  an  hour 
after  leaving  the  ruins  of  the  last-named  place,  proceeding 
south-east,  he  reached  two  abundant  springs  called  Kl- 
Djobcibah  and  Kl-Yaroud.  He  then  passed  through  the 
ruins  of  Qaritslali  {^  y),  and  arrived  at  last  at  I\arak  ; 
the  Schoikh  of  tliis  town  was  thcu  called  Youssef-Medjabj ; 
but  Burckhardt  is  licre  certainly  niistakon,  and  has  written 
Wedjaby  for  ilidjiglly. 

At  Kai'ak  our  traveller,  who  did  not  succeed  in  finding 
cither  tlic  opportunity  or  nieauH  of  descending  tu  the 
Rhor,  tried  to  pi-ocure  all  the  information  he  could  con- 
cerning the  topography  of  the  eastern  shore  of  the  Dead 
Sea.  He  mentions  the  river  Djcrrc  (s^c  Jji-*).  which  most 
certainly  is  not  the  Nahr-ed-Dr&a,  but  evidently  the  Seil- 
Ouad-ebni-Hammid,  that  runs  out  of  tliu  Ouad-Adjerrah ; 
for  he  adds,  that  in  the  valley  through  which  this  river 
passes,  which  he  idontiliea  very  cautiously  with  the 
Zared  of  Scripture,  there  are  ruins  of  walls  and  buildings 
situated  at  a  distance  of  Sre  hours'  march  north  of  Karak. 

He  mentions  likewise  the  Rhor-Safieh  (sji-e  ^),  which 
be  lays  down  towanls  the  mouth  of  the  Ouad-cl-Ahhsa, 
as  being  in  the  winter  season  the  rendezvous  of  several 
jwwerful  wandering  tribes.  The  river  that  runs  down 
from  the  Ouad-el-Ahhsa  divides,  as  he  says,  the  country 
of  Karak  from  the  southern  district  called  Djebal.  }Ic 
surmises  tliat  tlie  situation  of  the  Zoar  of  Scriptm-e  must 

looked  fui'  in  the  iUior-Sa&eh.     He  mentions  also  the 


478 


mar  isu  mangles  ir  ISIS. 


proporij'     1 

lunt,  u«ar  - 

urcliluirdt  I 

identjot  J 

smoiral) —  V 


Sed'Attal,  writing  this  name  ^y:^.  without  being  poaittrc 
ihtki  the  orthography  of  the  word  is  uot  moro  properly 
Asaao.  This  river  runs,  according  to  his  account,  u«ar 
Kalhcrabba  (we  must  observe  here,  that  Burcfeluirdt 
makes  uso  of  the  English  M,  which  is  nearly 
io  regard  to  |HN)nunciation,  with  the  Arabic  O,  e: 
bj  ts).  After  KatKerabba,  lie  mentions  El-Nomoirali — 
t^  Bamc  En-Xeinalrch  tbrougli  which  wc  subHixjuently 
paused.  And  laMly,  ho  speaks  of  Kl-Mezraali  as  being 
situated  opposite  the  middio  of  the  Dead  Sea  ;  and  close 
to  this  last  place  he  mentions  the  Taouabin-es-Sakkar 
(jCJ^  ijs*-^  ^)>  ^  being  the  miits  of  an  ancient  city. 

Burckhardt  had  procured,  as  may  be  seen  from  the 
above  statement,  very  correct  informntiou,  and  he  had 
abo  taken  notes  on  the  vegetation  of  the  Eh6r;  for 
instance,  he  mentions  the  Asclepias  Prttctra  as  being 
found  there  in  abundance.  This  shrub  is  called  by  tlie 
Arabs,  Och^r  (j^)-  Such  is  in  subiitauce  the  aaotml 
of  Burckhardt's  bold  investigation. 

He  was  succeeded  (in  1818)  by  Messrs.  Irby  and 
Mangles,  of  whoso  narrative  I  shall  give  a  coiTcsponding 
summary.  Having  left  Uebron  on  the  18tb  of  May, 
they  took  two  days  to  reach  the  Ouad-ez-Zoucra,  by 
which  rout«  they  descended  to  the  Rhor,  iutonding  to 
proceed  to  Petra  after  calling  at  Karak.  These  gentle- 
mvn  first  mention  the  ruin  of  tbc  small  Arab  fort  calleii 
Zouera-el-Fou(]ah,  which  they  call  Ul-Zowar.  On  the 
20th  tliey  crosseil  the  Sabkliab,  after  having  encamped 
at  the  foot  of  the  Salt  Mountain,  or  Mountain  of  Sodom. 
As  they  proceeded,  they  observed  very  correctly,  that  the 
mountains  on  the  western  shore  of  the  Dead  Sea  diminish 
iu  liuight  as  they  extend  southward,  whUsi  the  mountains 


I 


IRIir    AM)    MANUUIS   IK    IHl$. 


47'J 


on  the'  casturu  shore  uiaiDtatn  constantly  the  same 
elevation.  In  the  Sabkhali  thoy  crossed  six  water-courses 
nioru  or  less  rapid.  They  next  reached  a  woodt-d  country 
of  a  very  pleasing  aspect,  the  IthtVr-Safieh.  They  found 
here  a  small  river  which  the  Arabs  told  them  was  called 
the  Nahr-cl-Uesan   (the  river  of  the  Horse ;  hut  they 

^rote  it  dowi),  El-Nahr-Houssau).     The  glades  were  well 
iltivatcd,  and  sown  with  barley. 
At  that  season  of  the  year,  Irhy  and  Mangles  suffered 
much  in  the  Rhitr  from  the  aunoyauoe  of  gigauUc  horse- 
fflies  (most  Ukely  the  gad-fly  or  ox-fly),  the  visitation  of 
which,  thoy  were  told,  was  an   iucidoutal  plague  that 
contributed  much    to    the    destruction  of   Sodom   and 
Gomorrah.     The  Arabs  they  met  with  were  Ghorncys 
ieviilently  the  same  name  as  the  llhaouarn.is).  and,  more 
fortunate  tliaii  we  were,  thcso  earltcr  travellers  had  only 
■reason  to  remember  with  gratitude  the  hospitable  welcome 
they  received  from  them.     The  Ghoraeys  differed  a  good 
deal  (the  observation  is  Just)  in  their  liubits  and  custttras 
^  from  the  more  nomadic  tribes,  for  tliey  dwelt  in  huts  made 
Vof  mud,  branches,  and  reeds,  and  ailtivate  the  neighbour- 
ing; lands.     After  having  crossed  the  Houssan,  they  pro- 
ceeded along  the  foot  of  the  mountains,  and  over  a  plain 
^encumbered  witli  huge  boulders  of  red  and  green  granite, 
^  of  green,  black,  and  red  porphyry,  of  serpentine,  of  black 

I  basalt  and  breccia,  and  many  other  species  of  costly  rocks. 
It  may  he  surmised,  they  said,  that  from  this  country  the 
Aucients  procured  the  precious  materials  from  which  they 
constructed  the  innumerable  columns  adorning  to  the 
present  day  the  bath.s  and  mosques  of  tlic  East. 
The  mountains  tliey  passed  by  seemed  to  them  generally 
formed  of  grey  limestone  or  nmrble.     Tlioy  reached  the 


4S0 


IBBY   ASU    UANGLSa   IX    1S18. 


peninsula,  and  encamped  on  the  side  of  a  dt'lightful 
watered  b^  a  river  called  EUDara  (Nahr-ed-Drika_ 
banks  of  wbich  were  covered  with  a  dense  thicket  of  dwarf 
palm-tree^  acacias,  thorm,  aud  oleanders.  The  itinerarj 
of  our  travellers  in  tlie  Rhor  may  be  summed  up  thus : 
In  two  hours  aud  a  liall'  they  wcut  from  the  western  buiik 
of  the  Rhiir — that  is  to  say.  from  the  foot  of  tlie  Sab 
Mountain — as  far  as  ihe  Itakh,  the  6rst  stream  of  b 
water.  Thb  name  is  quite  unknown  to  mo.  From  tl 
in  half  an  hour,  they  i-eached  Siuifije  (Safioh)  or  Ahsa,  and 
the  Na)ii'-ol-Uoug£taii  (this  without  auy  doubt  is  the  Xahr- 
Safieh) ;  from  Safieth  they  marched  towards  tlie  Nahr-el- 
Awel  (Nahr-el-Esal) ;  and  from  thonce,  in  two  hours,  iJmjt 
reached  the  sea ;  and  iu  two  houre  more  £1-Dara  (Bd- 
Uraa),  where  tliey  passed  tlie  night. 

The  next  morning,  by  dawu,  Messrs.  Irby  and  Mang^ 
proceeded  to  ctimh  the  mountain  to  the  summit.  Thej 
fell  in,  oa  the  way,  with  the  chaos  througli  which  we  our- 
scItcs  afterwards  passed.  According  to  their  account,  this 
mass  of  destruction  "  consisted  of  huge  fragments,  each  ss 
Ui^  as  a  house,  which,  having  rolled  down  from  tJie 
heights,  had  fallen  in  horrible  confusion  into  the  predpioe 
below,  one  over  the  other."  A  quarter  of  an  hoar  afle^ 
wards  they  arrivei!  at  a  small  tank,  situated  beneath  a 
single  olive-tree ;  (this  is.  no  doubt,  the  Ayo-es-Sekkah 
which  we  saw  at  the  point  called  Omm-Sedereh).  Theif 
next  observed  fields  of  barley  in  the  valley  on  their  left, 
and  winding  through  these  fields  a  wat«rcour»e  calle«l 
Souf-SafTa,  running  into  the  Dead  Sea  ;  (Uie  name  of  tliii 
river  has  never  been  given  to  mc  by  any  of  our  attendant 
Arabs).  They  noticed  on  the  way  the  remains  of  ancient 
aqueducts  which  had  conveyed  water  to  some  mills;  (these 


1«8T   AND   MANOI.KH   IS    lSl8. 


481 


"Are  e^-iJcntly  at  the  places  called  Ayn-es-Sara  and  Ayn- 
Aqbeck  or  Qobeck).  They  had  then  precisely  in  front  of 
tliem  the  castle  of  Karak,  but  could  not  porreive  any 
portion  of  the  city.  This  castle  presented  two  separate 
masses — tbe  one  at  the  southern  angle  of  the  town,  the 
other  more  to  the  northward,  and  consisting  of  a  lai^ 

I  building  named  by  them  the  Seraglio  of  Melali-a-Daher ; 
(there  can  be  no  doubt  this  is  the  tower  built  by  Malok* 
ed-Dliaher-Bcfbars).  Between  these  two  masses  of  forti- 
fications they  noticod  the  only  gate  giving  access  into 
Karak- — a  gate  with  an  orgival  arch,  surmounted  by  an 
Arabic  inscription,  and  placed  at  the  entrance  of  a  natural 
cavern.  This  is  the  tunnel  by  which  we  left  Karak,  and 
where  we  were  saluted  by  a  volley  of  stones. 

Messrs.  Irby  and  Mangles,  who  were  not  subjected  to 
any  annoyance  while  in  Karak,  had  ample  leisure  to 
examine  the  aiitiquitios  contained  in  tliis  oxtraordinarj 
specimeu  of  a  town.  The  castle  and  its  church,  the  tower 
of  Beibnrs,  the  raoaque  and  the  cisterns,  were  care- 
fully inspected  by  turns.  These  enterprising  travellers, 
however,  hare  fallen  into  an  historical  error  as  regards 
the  Castle  of  Mont  Real,  which  it  is  necessary  to  jectiff. 
They  attribute  the  siege  and  capture  of  Karak  to 
Godfrey  of  Bouillon,  who,  according  to  them,  gave 
it  the  name  of  Mons  Regalis.  We  have  already 
proved,  beyond  further  question,  that  the  conquest  and 

j  subsequent  denomination  are  both  to  be  attributed  to 
King  Baldwin,  who  took  possession  of  Karak  at  a  much 
later  period,  in  1115. 

They  encountered  some  fragments  of  ancient  coltimn?, 
and  also  a  bas-relief  fixed  into  a  wall,  representiog  an 
expanded  wing,  sctoq  feet  long  and  four  feet  broad,  and 


II 


ut 


1R8T   AND   HADOLES   IH    181& 


bearing  a  utrikiii^  analogy  to  the  wing  of  the  «-uigec1 
m  often  represented  on  Egyptian  monuments.  I  have  no 
doubt  that  what  they  sair  was  in  reality  ihc  fragment  of  a 
winged  globe,  to  which  was  joined  tlie  two  mystical  cyea 
of  Horus  ;  one  of  theao  1  afterwards  discovered  mjrsidC 
L«u(tly,  they  found  amongst  the  niins  two  Greek  inscrip- 
tion!!, which  they  con^idorod  as  of  no  iut«re»L  Tbey 
visited  likewise  tlie  same  fountain  and  sepulchral  grottoes 
at  the  bottom  of  tJic  valloy  of  Karak,  in  front  of  which  i 
subeequentty  passed.  It  is  a)>undantly  evident  that  Karak 
contains  many  unexplored  early  antiquities,  dating  back 
even  to  the  time  of  the  &[oabitic  dominion  ;  but  1  coufee^ 
in  all  humility,  that  I  am  not  disposed  to  »Dok  them  tbH|^ 
a  second  time.  ^^| 

After  a  tolerably  long  cxcursi(»n  to  Petra,  ilessrs,  Irby 
and  Mangles  returned  to  Karak.  Tbey  call  the  Sebeikb 
of  this  place  Joussouf  Magella.  Prom  thence  they  passeJ 
on  to  tlie  Rhor,  to  examine  the  ruins  situated  on  the  hanks 
of  the  Dai'a  (Ed-Dr^) ;  ruins  whicJi  they  expected  would 
prove  identical  with  those  of  Zoar.  They  returned  i 
second  time  to  Karak,  and  thence  proceeded  towards  tlie 
Ilaouran.  through  the  plain  of  Moab.  Tlieir  first  encamp- 
ment was  at  the  ruins  of  Er-Uabba.  On  the  6th  of  June 
they  visited  Beit-Kerm  (Beit-el-Kerm),  distant  from  Er- 
Itabba  a  mile  and  a  half,  iu  a  northerly  direction.  They 
decided  correctly  that  the  ruined  temple  is  of  the  Romao 
period,  and  they  surmise  tliat  tliis  temple  might  probably 
have  taken  iJio  place  of  that  of  AtargaloB,*  which  was  a 
Camaim-t  At  a  distance  of  two  hours  and  a  half's 
journey,  north  of  Beit-Kerm,  thoy  descried  a  small  eminence 

*  As  AMfrfu  Dirinitr  ooiwliliirad  liy  Strmbo  and  othon  m  id«atk>d  with  TMtt 
t  IMMt»btW,*.'l8. 


IRBr   AKD   UANOLKS   IN    18l». 


4HS 


commanding  all  the  country  romtd,  wliivli  they  call  Scheik- 
Ilam  (meaning  ijchihaa). 

On  the  8tli  of  Juno  they  procccdcil  lo  cross  tlio  Wady- 
)Iodjeb  (Ouad-et-Moudjeb),  by  following  tlic  romaJua  of 
tbo  paved  Homati  road.  As  tliey  were  descending  tbg 
pass,  they  eaw  distinct  nttns  of  military  bttildings  of  the 
itoman  period,  most  likely  thoae  of  the  forta  I  have  men- 
tioned above  as  having  contained  the  gatriiiouii  <«/ 
tSpeiuHcax.     After  that  they  passed  several  milestones,  alt 

B  of  which  (tJiosc  at  least  that  were  legible)  bora  the  date  of 
the  reign  of  Trajan.  At  the  bottom  of  the  Ouad,  which 
they  reached  after  an  cxlroincly  fatiguing  and  difficult 
descent  of  an  hour  and  a  half,  they  found  tiie  ruins  of  a 
Roman  bridge.  On  the  opposite  bauk  of  the  Ouad  they 
foil  in  again  with  the  remains  gf  the  ancient  road,  and  also 
several  more  milestoneA,  )>carinj^  the  name  of  Marcus 
AurcUus. 

Jt  in  foreign  to  my  subject  to  upeak  of  the  itinerary  they 
followed  through  the  land  of  Anion ;  that  is  to  say, 
through  the  country  situated  north  of  the  Ouad-d- 
Jtloudjcb,  or  Amon.     I  sliali  only  ndd,  that  I  congratulate 

M  most  sincerely  Messrs.  Irhy  iind  Mangles  on  the  accuracy 
of  their  observations. 

A  few  words  now  with  reference  to  Captain  Lyncb's 
excursion  on  tho  eastern  shore  of  the  Dead  Sea,  aii  far  as 

■  Karak,  and  I  shall  have  collected  together  under  one  vievr 
all  that  is  known  up  to  the  present  period  respecting  tko 
land  of  the  Moabitcs. 

_      On  the  30th  of  April,  1848,  Capiain  Lynch,  in  one  of 

W'his  two  boats,  anchored  towards  tlie  bottom  of  the  gulf 
formed  by  the  northern  point  of  tho  peninsula,  called  by 
him  point  Costigan.in  memory  of  tlie  unfortunate  traveller 


4M 


CAPf.   LYNCH    IS    1848. 


■who  had  Won  his  predecessor  on  this  inliospitablc  show. 
He  tlion  proceeded  to  the  miserable  village  of  El-Mezraah, 
distant  about  half  a  league  (a  mile  aiid  a  half)  from  the 
aiicboragc.  He  there  made  the  same  observation  whicli 
oocurred  to  ourselves  at  a  lat«r  period  concoruiug  the 
strange  phyitiogiiomy  of  the  RhaooarniU  who  inhabit  tlie 
place  :  the  style  of  their  features  and  gcnerrd  i)h^'i>ioguom3r 
ia  more  decidedly  African  than  Asiatic. 

Here  he  received  a  visit  from  Suleiman,  son  of  Abd- 
Allali,  the  Christian  Scheikh  of  Karak,  who  was  sent  b; 
his  brother  Chrtittians  for  the  express  purposo  of  inviting 
the  American  ofiicei's  to  visit  their  melancholy  town.  The 
whole  expedition  was  sufforing  from  fatigue  and  illness, 
and  even  in  danger  of  death,  unless  the  commander  could 
remove  his  party  into  a  more  salubrious  air  than  tliat  of 
the  furnace  in  which  they  had  long  been  broiled.  Captain 
Lynch,  principally  urged  by  this  motive,  determined  upon 
undertaking  the  excursion  to  Karak.  He  was  also  a  Httle 
instigated  by  the  natural  pride  of  not  liking  to  shon  an 
apparent  danger,  when  any  cliange  of  climate  had  beooine 
so  neceesary  to  his  exhausted  companions. 

The  next  day  ho  visited  the  ruins  situated  in  the  vicinity 
of  El-Mczraah,  and  which  he  concluded  to  be  those  of  Zoar. 
Amongst  these  he  made  out  the  cncloiiuro  of  a  square 
building,  and  many  foundations  of  struct^ires.  strewed  with 
fragments  of  pottery  ;  be  also  picked  up  a  small  millst«ne. 
These  vestiges  of  foundations  presented  all  the  marks  of 
remote  antiquity ;  and  Captain  Lynch  does  not  hesitate  in 
recognising  in  these  ruins  the  same  tlmt  Irby  and  Mangles 
had  visited  a  considerable  time  before,  and  in  applying  to 
them,  without  sound  reason,  the  name  of  the  Zoar  of  the 
Scriptures. 


CAPT.    LTKCH   IK    1S48. 


485 


I 
I 


$ 


On  his  return  from  this  excursion,  Captain  Lyncli  found 
that  Mohammed,  the  Mussulman  Scheikh  of  Karak,  had 
just  arrived  with  the  Christian  Scheikh  Abd-Allah  himself. 
Mohammed,  who  was  no  otlier  than  our  friend  Moham- 
med-el-MidjicIly,  at  once  struck  the  American  officer  as 
Being  the  most  impudent,  the  most  insuflurabic,  aud  the 
most  cowardly  animal  lie  had  ever  encountered.  On  the 
find  of  May.  notwithstanding  be  would  most  willingly 
bare  given  up  liis  intended  journey  to  ICarak,  Captain 
Lynch,  thinking  he  might  compromise  the  dignity  of  his 
country  were  ho  to  refrain  from  visiting  that  town,  started 
for  it  early  in  the  morning. 

He  crossed  the  rivulet  that  descends  from  the  Ouad- 
ebni-Hammid,  and  next  the  level  eminence  commanding 
the  pUin,  which  he  designates  as  the  plain  of  Zour.  On 
this  ridge  he  found  the  remains  of  a  fort,  which  he  coO' 
sidered  as  contcmponineous  with  the  crusades,  Ueacliing 
from  thence  a  point  distant  about  two  miles  more  to  the 
southward,  he  entered  the  Ouad-el-Karak,  and  judging  by 
the  description  he  gives,  we  clearly  recognise  the  frightful 
Abyss  called  the  Ouad-el-Kliaradjeh. 

On  his  journey  he  encountered  the  delightfiil  rivulet  of 
Ed-Drna,  but  without  recording  its  name  ;  in  short,  ho 
followed,  as  he  must  have  done,  but  from  the  opposite 
direction,  tlie  same  road  we  ouraelves  travelled  on  in 
returning  from  Karak  to  the  Rhur.  The  gigantic  chaos 
which  1  have  dcsci'ibod  could  not  fait  to  excite  Captain 
Lynch's  curiosity ;  accordingly  ho  niontions  it  as  one  of 
the  most  surpiising  phenomena  of  Natui-c  he  had  ever 
seen. 

Before  long  tlio  valley  up  wiiich  Captain  LjTich  was 
ascending   bccnoic    well    planted    with    olive-trees  ;     the 


486 


CAPT.    LYNCH    IS    IW8. 


niincd  fortress  of  Karak  and  Uie  majestic  qtuvlrangulnr 
(owcr  of  tho  nortli-wesiern  point  of  the  pl«iform  pro- 
bcntcd  themselves  to  the  travellers,  vho  arrived  at  last  at 
the  tunnel  alrondy  named  hy  me.  which  they  Decessaiily 
passed  through,  ns  it  forms  the  onlj  entrance  to  Karak  on 
Uiat  side.  Captain  Lynch  took  up  bis  quartern  at  tho 
Christian  convent,  as  Irby  and  Mangles  had  done  before ; 
tJio  only  Franks  who,  since  tJio  time  of  the  Crusades,  had 
ventured  into  this  miserable  town  wttltout  disguise,  and  in 
tlioir  avowed  characters.  Tho  Uttto  church,  which  I  fiiuiul 
completely  finished,  was  then  building.  The  American 
ofGccrs  proceeded  at  all  risks  to  oxploro  the  town  and  the 
ruins  of  the  castle.  The  extent  and  importance  of  the  last 
greatly  excited  their  itdmimtion.  They  next  examined 
tJie  large  tower,  which  appeared  to  them  of  Saracenic 
construction.  In  the  afternoon  Captain  Lynch  endea- 
voured to  a.scertain  if  he  might  be  allowed  to  proceed  in 
the  direction  of  the  Rh&r-SaJieh,  but  he  was  told  it  wu 
luito  imprncttcablo,  and  therefore  gave  up,  much  against 
his  will,  the  intention  of  visiting  tliia  splendid  delta,  as  ha 
has  designated  it. 

On  tho  3Ist  of  May,  at  half-past  six  in  the  morning, 
Captain  Lynch,  who  had  met  with  notliing  hut  opposition 
and  annoyanoe  from  the  insolent  Scheikh  of  Karak.  suo- 
cecdud  in  cffocting  his  escape  from  tliia  den  of  cut- 
throats ;  but  in  order  of  battle,  and  carbine  in  hand. 
Mohammed,  enraged  because  he  had  not  boon  able  te 
extort  anytJiing  from  the  Americans,  followed  ibem.  and 
most  likely  with  evil  intentions.  Captain  Lynch  ordered 
Lieutenant  Dale  and  one  of  his  most  determined  men  to 
place  themselves  suddciUy  on  each  side  of  Mohammed's 
horse,  and  force  the  scoundrel  to  march  on,  watcluug  him 


I 


CAPT.   LTNCH   IN   1S*8. 


487 


doseljr  like  a  prisoner,  with  orders  to  blow  his  braius  out 
at  the  first  mouicnt  that  might  indicate  fliglit  or  trcaclicrj 
01)  his  part.     Motiammcd,  fiudiug  himyelf  caught,  became 
as  humble  and  as  mean  as  he  had  been  until  then  haughty 
aud  impcrtiucut.     He  was  led  in  this  manner  all  the  way 
dowu  to  the  anchorage  where  the  boat  was  waitiug  for  the 
officers  and  crew.     The  old  Schcikh,  Abd-Allah,  received 
f  a  present  from  Captain  Lynch;  whilst  Mohammed  obtahiod 
no  other  bakhshish  than  permit^iou  to  return  to  his  den, 
H  ivhich  waa  freely  accorded.    He  entreated  Captain  Lynch 
HdUjDSt  urgently  to  give  him  at  least  some  giiii  caps,  that  lie 
^^noght  not  be  exposed  to  the  shame  of  retuniiug  homo 
empty-handed ;  his  supplicationa  were  totally  unheeded, 
and  procured   him  absolutely  nothing.     The  boat  was 
H  immediatoly  set  afloat  again  ;  every  body  went  on  Iward, 
and  Captain  Lynch  left  the  shores  of  Moab,  in  all  proba- 
bihty  never  to  visit  them  again.     His  observations  are 
brief  and  condensed,  but   correct   in    many  particulars. 
I  Perhaps  the  remembrance  of  the  agreeable  visit  of  the 
American  gentlemen  may  have  sliarpeued  the  feelings  of 
Mohamracd-el-Midjielly  towards  us  wbon  wo  presented 
ourselves  in   his  distinguished  capital   two  years  after- 
wards.      This    digression    has    been    rather    long,    and 
reminds  me  tliat  it  is  high  time  to  resume  the  diary  of 
our  joumoy. 


CHAPTER  XIU. 

ConcntiUllloiia  upon  (ka  ■aecaw  of  Ihaiounwr^^  •taitiing  amttimoiual  propv- 
dtioS'— EkKBtapmant  of  AhouaUwto—DepwtuN  of  the  Htnl^akhan-  r»iBHi 
«r  11m  <>'bVb*^— i»""»i n«ii«  ikugBii  aimnounUd— GmdivI  MtidkoCLoi — Omb- 
pmmtitm  tvr  Iw  Tb«  Baft  Moiuilwii  of  Smlooi— RuiM  of  Si>diMii— fUha 
«f  Zosr — EitMOT^linvy  iMtunil  phenuiuBDOu — Pua.  or  Aaoanl  of  th*  SotirffcM 

|, — Qoo1ogl«»l  •ppcoruiopa—Riuiu  of  tii«  Uppor  Sew— Botaniokl  Diaeoriiy— 
Itiuiu  of  AitiiiHili— lUiii,  IimI,  mkI  <v>M— a  fjialuriag  B''Ott«'— Propoaed  idnili' 

'  totlon— A  tnooAij  MDtln*)— Tbe  Adidih  of  Sntptiirft—BiiliM  of  Bl-4)«ll(la, 
Qt  K«nDth — Hsimi— OtTM  of  I^unbtli — EomupiDg  ^nmnd. 

Jttmnanf  X3mL4 

It  would  bo  difficult  to  express  the  high  spirita  witii' 
which  we  rose  tliiij  morning.  In  a  few  hours  we  shall  be 
at  the  entrance  of  the  Ouad-ez-Zourca  ;  wc  shall  have  left, 
neror  again  to  retuni  to  tliem,  the  condemned  shores  upoa 
which  we  have  encountered  so  manv  dangers  iu  so  short  a 
space  of  timo.  Wc  arc  bringing  home  with  ua  geographi- 
cal an<l  archffiological  documents  of  inestimable  value. 
This  journey,  in  which  wo  were  told  we  Rhould  infalUblv 
perish,  we  have  accomplished  without  a  scratch.  We  are 
all  safe  and  sound  in  heart  and  limb.  Our  purse  only  has 
suffered,  and  become  Umk  and  consumptive,  it  must  be 
oonfcsaod  wc  hare  distributed  liberally  ;  but  have  wo  jMiid 
too  dearly  for  the  credit  of  being  the  first  to  visit  many 
localities,  the  knowledge  of  which  cannot  fail  to  throw  a 
new  light  upon  the  holy  Scriptures  ?  No,  cert^uly  not 
Let  us  thank  Pi-orideucc  for  the  assistance  granted  to  us ; 
luid  since  it  has  been  written  "  Help  thyself  and  Heaven 


A  STAHTLINO    MATKIHONIAL   rUUJKCT. 


4ti9 


I 


I 


will  help  thee,"  let  iis  not  linger  in  our  Arabinn  Capua,  but 
prowMid  on  our  journey  with  renewed  vigour  and  pei-sc- 
verance. 

This  time  we  have  no  occasion  to  stimulate  our  moukris 
to  exeitioD.  Their  natural  laziness  and  apathy  are  con- 
quered by  the  apprehension  of  many  dangers,  from  which 
they  hope  to  be  soon  dcUvered.  They  are  packing  the 
mules  rapidly  of  their  own  accord. 

Whilst  our  preparations  for  niarcliing  are  in  progress 
I  receive  the  yisit  of  our  Beui-Sakliar  Schoikhs :  a 
friendly  Tisit,  no  dovibt,  but  with  an  eye  to  their  own 
interests.  These  worthy  people  would  not  be  thorough- 
bred Arabs  had  they  failed  to  ask  with  eager  emulation 
for  bakhxhish  upon  bakhsliiiih  :  I  present  each  of  thorn 
mth  a  hundred  piastres  beyond  his  engagement,  and  with 
a  grand  Houristi  bestow  the  littlo  trumpet-mouthed  pistol 
on  the  l^clieikh  who  was  so  desperately  enamoured  of  it 
yesterday. 

All  the  inhabitants  of  the  encampment  surround  us 
with  uiiaiTectcd  marks  of  regard,  of  which  we  are  the 
more  sensible  as  we  have  not  tmtil  now  been  much 
accustomed  to  thut  sort  of  demonstiution.  Saroet-Aly, 
in  a  moment  of  excited  tenderness,  makes  a  moat 
unexpected  proposal,  by  which  I  feel  exceedingly  touched, 
although  a  littlo  startled  at  the  same  time.  "  We  are  all 
fond  of  thee,"  said  he,  "  become  our  brother,  and  remain 
with  us.  Thou  wilt  be  a  Scheikh  like  ourselves  ;  and 
thou  wilt  have  the  choice  of  throe  wives  amongst  the 
daughters  of  our  tnbe,  for  we  shall  forthwith  adopt  thee." 
1  reply,  witboiit  hesitation,  that  the  honour  proposed  by 
the  tribe  is  too  great ;  that  I  fool  I  oiu  not  sufficiently 
worthy  of  it ;  aud  that,  besides,  imperious  duties  recall 


490  V181T   rROM   TlUt   LAOUtB. 

me  to  my  own  country.  The  bmve  Bedouina  are  not  in 
the  least  offeuded  at  mj  refuaal,  and  shake  me  kindly  by 
tlie  hand,  wliilc  thoy  a*Bm-e  mo  again  and  again  tliat  they 
aro  very  sorry  indeed  to  part  with  me  without  a  hope  of 
ever  seeing  me  again.  "Allah,  a&leml"  ("Allah  ouly 
kaows,")  is  uy  answer. 

Before  parting  with  tlie  Beni-Sakhars,  I  recollect  that 
I  have  a  store  ofsowiug  necdJca  intended  as  presenla  for 
Uesdamcs  the  Bedoulaeft,  not  one  of  which  has  been  yd 
diatribut^td.  If  I  wish  to  get  rid  of  my  needles  here  is  an 
opportunity  to  dispose  of  them  graoefully.  1  aonotaice 
with  a  loud  ruioe  tkia  act  of  intended  gcaorosity  :  in  a 
twinkling  I  am  surrounded  by  a  host  of  females,  of  all 
ages  and  complexions— a  choice  collection  for  the  study 
of  a  pliysioguomisti — which  loads  me  to  congratulate 
myself  internally  that  I  was  allowed  a  nogatiTO  voice  ia 
the  proposal  of  the  three  wivesL  The  pillage  of  the 
needles — for  a  pillage  it  was  in  reality — takes  leas  time 
than  I  require  for  narrating  it  It  bebores  as  now  to 
look  to  our  clothes,  for  wo  have  not  eren  retained 
means  of  mending  a  button. 

Whilst  I  was  engaged  in  this  largess,  a  Bedouin,  who 
was  on  an  occasional  visit  with  the  tribe,  had  contriTed  to 
get  himself  severely  bitten  by  a  large  dog  in  the  tendon- 
Achilles,  The  poor  fellow  smiling,  and  uttering  no 
expressions  of  pain,  is  stretched  on  his  back,  being  unable 
to  stand  upon  one  log.  They  outroat  me  to  go  to  bit 
assistance  ;  but  not  being  a  surgeon  I  am  at  a  loss  what 
to  do.  I  tell  tlie  friends  of  the  sufferer  to  bathe  tie 
wound  irom  time  to  time  with  sale  and  water,  and 
drawing  the  lips  together  as  well  as  I  can  I  try  to  keep 
tliem  closed  with  large  patches  of  sticking  plaister.     I  an 


t 


HBI>[CAL  PRiCnCB. 


I 
I 


ofit  anxiouH  to  ^et  on  horseback  and  tako  my 
departuro  as  fast  ns  possible  ;  but  my  ctiI  destiny  is  id 
the  RMcondaiit ;  for  srarccly  am  I  rid  of  my  man  with  the 
wounded  leg  when  I  atumblo  upon  aiiotlicr  afilicttd  by  a 
moro  serious  disAase.  Tliis  is  an  epileptic  patient,  wlio  is 
writhing  under  the  conTulsions  produced  by  his  itilirinitjr. 
It  is  true  thoy  do  not  ask  mo  to  euro  him,  hut  merely  to 
state  what  I  think  of  his  disease,  "lloua  miedjnounl" 
("  He  is  possessed  by  a  dovil  1 ")  1  reply,  and  all  present 
repeat  in  loud  clionis  "Thaiebl"  (It  is  so.")  For  this 
lucky  answer  I  am  immcdiatoly  set  down  as  a  most 
orthodox  believer.  As  every  one  is  of  opinion  that  this 
man  must  be  lefi  in  communication  with  his  genie  {djtn), 
without  further  interference,  I  completely  approve  of  tliia 
determination,  which  I  put  in  practice  myself  without 
further  delay.  It  seems  inhuman  to  leave  a  fellow- 
creature  in  pain  without  trying  to  relieve  him  ;  but  let 
the  reader  place  himself  m  our  situation,  and  he  may 
perhaps  excuse  my  apparent  want  of  feeling  at  Kuch  a 
moment.  The  dreaded  Sabklmh  is  a  few  thonsnJid  yards 
before  us  :  it  must  be  crositcd  at  all  hazards ;  and  tJie 
thought,  1  frankly  confess,  operated  as  a  check  on  our 
natural  sympathy.  Slioll  we  be  able  to  get  through 
without  being  swallowed  up,  every  man  of  us  T  A  nervous 
qiteation,  which  I  haatou  to  solve  with  as  little  delay 
00  poanble. 

Everything  is  ready  ;  it  is  scarcely  eight  o'clock  ;  we 
arc  all  mounted  ;  and  now  let  us  commence  our  march, 
wiU)  Heaven  to  8|>ued  us. 

We  first  skirt  the  foot  of  Uie  mountains,  keeping  at  a 
ice  fi-om  the  thicket,  which  we  intend  crossing  by  ha 
a  cut  as  possible.    Our  course  is  first  duo  south, 


49S 


RNCAHPUKXT   OP   THB    AHODBTHATS. 


tmUl  we  are  in  a  liuo  witli  the  encampment  of  the  Alioue- 
tiiats,  with  whom  we  pasucd  one  night  on  our  preceding 
journey.  Then  wc  turn  sutJdenly  westward,  and  proceed 
at  a  good  pace  through  the  fortwt.  We  have  soou  reached 
the  tents  of  those  people,  whose  hospitAlity  we  distnst, 
from  recent  experience ;  hut  nearly  all  the  banditti  arc 
out  foraging  for  the  last  few  days.  Tliey  liare  gone  to 
ptuuder  the  encAmpment  of  a  hostile  tribe  at  a  comudor- 
able  distance.  We  find  only  the  women,  children,  and  i 
few  men  left  with  the  aliandoned  tont«.  Nobody  aoooeto 
us,  and  we  pats  on  rapidly,  struggUng  through  a  road 
httle  better  than  a  swamp.  What  will  it  diange  to  a  little 
farther  on  ?  The  consideration  is  enough  to  make  is 
seriously  uneasy. 

We  have  arrived  without  accident  at  the  large  border 
of  reeds  which  still  conceals  the  Sabkhah  From  our  anxious 
view,  and  hero  our  difficulties  will  oridcolly  commMtoe. 
We  send  om-  luggage  in  advance,  and  look  on  whilst  our 
beasts  of  burthen  disappear  one  after  the  other,  followed 
by  tlie  moukris,  whose  habitual  prudence  is  on  this  occa- 
sion more  than  usually  conspicuous.  Each  man  urges  his 
beast  in  a  separate  direction,  instead  of  following  the 
track  left  by  the  preceding  one.  In  consequence  of  tliis, 
several  mules  choose  a  road  for  themselves ;  and  in  less 
Chan  ten  minutes  some  have  sunk  iu  the  mud,  othore  have 
fallen  over  on  their  sides,  owing  to  the  loads  having  been 
badly  fastened,  and  to  the  intervening  reeds  baring 
dragged  tliem  round.  The  shouting  and  screaming,  froDi 
ten  different  points  at  the  samo  time,  is  enough  to  drive 
lis  mad  ;  and  we  lose  nearly  half  an  hour  waiting  for  the 
whole  caravan  to  retrace  its  stops,  and  take  footing  on 
firmer  ground. 


KlfTHANCK   TO   THfi   SABEHAU. 


49S 


'lait,  the  entire  band,  men  and  beasts,  has  got 
back  again  witliout  otlier  damage.  But  we  caunol  repeat 
this  perilous  game,  and  must  find  another  more  prac- 
ticable passage.  We  return  a  few  hundred  j-ards  south- 
ward, in  the  hope  that,  by  retreating  from  the  shore, 
vte  may  fall  in  with  a  less  marshy  soil.  In  a  few 
minutes,  the  Schoikh  Abou-Daouk  annonnres  that  the 
spot  we  haye  come  to  is  favourable  ;  ho  therefore  leads 
tlie  way  into  the  roods,  and  everybody  follows  him. 
Here  the  thicket  is  not  so  dense,  and  the  reedy  border  is 
not  00  wide  ;  a  few  minutes  suffice  to  bring  us  in  front  of 
the  formidable  Sabkhah. 

Let  the  reader  figure  to  himself  a  plain  covered  with 
melted  suow,  mixed  up  with  mud,  over  which  the  glim- 
mering rays  of  a  pale-looking  sun  are  dismally  reflected. 
Such  is  the  sceao  before  its,  extending  nearly  three  leagues 
(nine  miles)  in  evety  direction.  Not  a  pebble,  not  a 
blade  of  gra.sa,  nothing  but  mud — tminterrupted  mud. 
What  has  become  of  the  rivera  that  we  know  we  have 
to  cross  T  We  shall  soon  find  them,  but  we  shudder  as 
we  anticipate  the  experiment. 

The  Bcni-Si^khar  Scheikiis,  like  true  Arabs,  have 
acoompanied  us  thus  far  ;  it  is  evident  that  they  bare 
still  one  more  crowning  bakhshish  in  view.  We  have 
made  up  our  minds  to  disappoint  them,  and  take  our 
leave  with  a  farewell  shake  of  the  hand.  As  I  am  the 
leader  of  the  caravan,  the  demand  will  be  addressed  to 
me ;  and  Mohammed,  who  understands  what  they  medi- 
tate, suggests  to  me,  by  a  simple  wink  of  his  eye,  to 
push  my  horse  into  iJie  Sabkhah  ;  being  perfectly  assured 
that  not  even  the  ardent  longing  for  a  baklishish  will 
induce  our  insatiable  friends  to  risk  their  chargers  and 


404 


UKriltTUKE  or  THE   8UII-«AKnjJlS. 


b 


persons  on  this  trencheroua  grouiwi  I  undentand  the^ 
ttint,  aud  adopt  it  immcdiatolj,  to  the  great  disappoint- 
ment of  the  Scheikhs,  who,  expecting  a  holt  on  this  ^t, 
hod  already  aliglited  to  be  in  readiness.  As  soon  as  I 
have  penetrated  a  fev  yards  into  this  horrid  jnng^e,  the 
Sctioikhs  resign  (he  hopes  they  had  fondly  entertained, 
remount  their  horses,  shout  to  ua  a  last  farewell,  and  then 
dieapiiear  in  the  reedy  Uiickei.  i 

We  arc  now  fairly  quit  of  alt  our  hloodsuckers,   and  H 
commGnce  marching  in  Indian  file,  adopting  all  the  pre- 
cautions so  powerfully  suggested    by  the  aspect  of  the 
ground.     These  precautions  are  by  no  means  superOuoua. 
and  we  are  obliged  to  be  couitautly  on  the  took-out  at  ^ 
eveiy  step  in  adrance,  if  we  have  any  hope,  however  B 
slightly  founded,   of  OBcaping  with   our  livea  from  this 
treacherous  "  Slough  of  Despond."    Abou<Baouk  and  his 
brother  lead  tJie  way ;  and,  to  our  great  consolation,  less 
with  the  air  of  a  reconnoitring  party  than  with  the  full 
confidence  of  guides  thoroughly  actjuainted  with  the  only       i 
practicable  road.  ^| 

In  a  few  minutes  wo  reach  the  first  torrent — swoUeo, 
impetuous,  and  menactng.  Baring  gtuned  the  bank,  our 
infantry  strip  off  their  clothes,  and  plunge  boldly  into  the 
water  :  the  instinct  of  wandering  saragos  has  discovered 
to  them  a  ford  which  they  cross  at  a  spot  where  the  water 
roaches  only  to  their  arm-pits.  They  are  followed  by 
the  horsemen  ;  and  at  this  critical  moment  every  one  of 
us  is  intent  on  his  own  safety,  without  bestowing  mucb 
attention  on  the  passage  of  the  mules  and  moukris.  AH 
arrive  safely  on  the  opjioeite  bank,  delighted  to  have 
passed  tJie  first  important  difficulty  ;  but  our  beaste  of 
burden  are  still  in  the  rear,  and  we  feel  somewhat  anxious 


PASSAOB  or  THS  SABKHAH. 


409 


» 


^ 


when  tbinkiiig  of  tho  probable  effect  of  so  violent  a  cur- 
rent on  the  heavy  masses  of  our  luggage. 

Whilst  the  more  intelligent  of  our  animals  keep 
following  the  same  track,  and  crosfiing  the  torrent  at 
exactly  the  same  spot,  a  miserable  donkey,  loaded  with 
a  sack  of  l)arley,  hiid  in  as  provision  for  our  horseti,  HihIr 
it  more  in  accordance  with  his  own  judgment  to  take  a 
short  cut  at  the  nearest  point.  Ho  misses  the  ford  by 
doggedly  turning  his  back  upon  it  ;  the  cooaequenoe  is, 
he  slips  in,  and  immediately  loaes  his  footing,  plunging 
and  struggling  desperately  against  the  cmTent  which 
carries  hitn  down.  Our  first  conriction  is,  tliat  he  is 
inevitably  lost.  But  in  coming  to  this  conclusion,  if  we 
had  correctly  estimated  the  stupid  apathy  of  our  motikris 
we  had  forgotten  to  take  into  account  the  devoted  energy 
of  our  Bedouins.  In  a  moment,  those  men  of  iron  niuiH:lcs, 
holding  each  other  by  the  hand,  form  a  kind  of  arched 
buttress,  with  their  feet  planted  deep  in  the  muddy  bank, 
into  which  they  sink  above  the  knees  ;  those  who  consti- 
tute tho  other  extremity  of  this  human  chain  descend 
into  tl)0  torrent,  and  catch  at  the  miserable  donkey  by  the 
ears,  the  tail,  and  tJie  sack  fixed  upon  his  back.  The  creature 
has  not  strcngtl!  cuougti  left  to  assist  the  endeavours  of 
those  who  try  to  rescue  it.  by  the  slightest  movement 
It  b  evidently  paralysed  by  terror ;  and  yet,  in  a  few 
minutes,  notwithstanding  the  looseness  of  the  bank,  which 
gives  way  several  times,  throwing  back  men  and  beast 
into  the  water,  the  animal  Ls  at  last  hauled  up,  half  dead, 
upon  tJie  dry  land.  They  set  it  on  its  legs  again  with 
much  difGculty,  after  having  taken  off  the  load,  rendered 
three  times  heavier  by  the  water  with  wliich  it  is  satu- 
rated, and  which  the  uulucky  doukoy  is  no  longer  able  to 


4M 


mMUmiT  DA1T0Blt& 


carry.  Immediately  aflcr  this  foat,  our  friends  of  the 
desert,  still  holJiu^  each  other  by  the  hand,  and  in  token 
of  their  joy  nt  haring  Hucceeded,  commence  dancing  in  a 
circle,  ranging  nl  the  same  ume  a  strange  chorus.  I  shall  oat 
readily  forget  this  characteristic  and  exciting  exhibition. 

After  this  short  delay,  we  resume  our  march  ;  but 
Abou-Daouk  has  gained  ground  during  the  few  mioutn 
that  we  have  been  involuntarily  compelled  to  lose.  Ve 
obecrre  that  he  shifts  and  turns  at  almost  every  8t<^ 
no  doubt  to  avoid  dangerous  bogs ;  but  how  are  wo  to 
hit  bis  track  l  Scarcely  have  his  horao's  hoofs  emerged 
from  this  glutinous  soil,  when  the  impression  they  have 
left  is  closed  again,  and  choked  up  wtUi  water.  We 
must  trust  entirety  to  the  help  of  Providence  aa  we 
venture  after  him. 

In  A  few  momenta  every  one  is  taking  care  of  himself, 
Keking  a  separate  path,  and  trying  to  diaoover  spots  upon 
which  he  may  veuttirc.  cilciilating.  at  the  same  lime,  how 
many  chances  are  iu  favour  of  his  being  swallowed  up  in 
some  quagmire,  from  which  there  will  be  no  dellTcraDee. 
Edward  and  Philippo  remain  close  behind  mo,  dctcrmioed 
to  share  the  same  fate  with  myself,  and  sink  or  escape 
together. 

At  this  moment  I  hear  distant  cries ;  they  proceed 
from  our  ilKfated  donkey,  who  has  fallen  again,  quite 
exhausted,  in  the  mud,  and  is  suObcatod  there  tn  a 
moment.  We  proceed  on  our  march,  abandoning  the 
carcass.  A  quarter  of  an  hour  after,  one  of  our  luggage 
horses  disappears  in  the  mire,  and  perishes  also  beyond 
all  power  of  extrication.  We  lose  much  valuable  time  in 
unloading  the  dead  body,  for  we  cannot  afford  to  abandoD 
moveables  of  much  importance. 


IMMINKXT    DAKOBR. 


J9T 


I 


We  liavc  now  half  crossed  the  Sabkfaali,  and  begin  to 
leel  a  little  more  confidence,  notfritlistanding  our  appre- 
bcuaiouB  of  the  remaining  watercourses,  more  dangorona 
than  that  we  hare  already  crossed,  and  which  we  speedily 
expe<!t  to  find  intercepting  our  roiid.  Kvery  moment, 
mules  or  horses  are  slipping  and  falling  down,  and  we 
become  perfectly  furious  at  the  apathy  displayed  by  our 
moukris  at  the  dangers  to  which  the  beasts  of  their 
companions  are  exposed.  Once  orcn,  one  of  thoae,  a  man 
called  Aly.  whom  we  have  brought  from  Boyrout, 
obstinaloly  refuses  to  go  to  the  assifitaiicc  of  one  of  his 
comrades  ;  it  is  only  by  exhibiting  the  muzzle  of  a  pistol 
that  I  induce  htm  to  do  what  he  most  certainly  would 
have  wished  to  have  had  done  for  himself,  had  he  be«i 
similarly  situated. 

For  a  moment  I  thought  myself  lost,  and  my  blood  ran 
cold  in  my  veins.  I  felt  my  horse's  hiud  legs  Huddenly 
sinking  under  me  ;  ho  went  down  about  two  feet,  and  it 
was  only  by  a  desperate  ofTort,  by  dint  of  holding  him  up 
with  all  my  strength.  an<l  striking  him  fiirioiisly  with  tl»o 
whip,  that  1  (X)ntrived  to  make  him  leap  beyond  this  hole. 
Kdward  and  Philippe  had  seen  my  di.stress,  and  were 
ninning  up  to  my  assistance  ;  but  fortunately  by  the  timo 
they  arrived  tJie  danger  was  already  passed. 

The  reader  will  easily  conceive  that  from  this  moment 
my  apprehensions,  which  had  nearly  vaniBhed,  returned 
with  greater  strength  than  ever. 

Fortunately,  by  the  time  we  reach  the  bank  of  the 
nearest  of  the  rivers  that  still  remain  to  bo  crossed,  wo 
discover,  to  our  umiticrable  joy,  that  the  rain  which  Iwis 
so  cruelly  annoyed  us  for  the  last  two  days,  has  not 
spread  beyond  the  eastern  shore  of  the  Dead  Sea  :  and 


K   * 


40S 


QKNBiiAt.  SATISFACTlOIf. 


thnt  tlie  torrentit  Mining  dowi)  from  tlie  moiint&tns  of  the 
western  coaitt,  as  welt  as  from  tbo«o  tliat  form  to  the 
Houtliward  the  limit  of  the  Sabkhah,  are  not  bwoUcu  in 
the  least ;  far  from  that,  it  seems  as  if  these  torrents  had 
become  considerably  smaller  than  when  wo  crossetl  tbeoi 
on  our  first  passage.  At  present  it  is  mere  chiM's  play, 
and  we  reach  without  difficulty  the  broken  shore  that 
forms  the  foot  of  the  mountain  of  Sodom.  Ucrc  we  breathe 
freely  ;  and  hero,  from  the  bottom  of  our  hearts  thank 
Providence  for  the  evident  protection  that  has  been 
accorded  to  ua.  We  were  exposed  to  perish  in  thia 
horrid  quagmire,  and  we  have  escaped  with  the  loss  of 
a  single  horse  and  a  miserable  donkey  drowned :  a 
reasonable  tribute  to  the  damiuiou  of  the  Siibkhah. 

After  what  wo  have  gone  Utrough  for  the  last  few  hours, 
the  reader  will  understand  that  wc  greatly  needed,  all  of 
us,  men  and  boastA,  a  halt  to  reoovor  strength,  and  cahn 
down  our  excitement.  Every  one  jumps  from  his  horse, 
and  stretches  himself  on  the  salt  gravel  composing  the 
light,  moveable  soil  which  by  good  fortune  wo  liave 
reached  at  Ust.  We  take  advantage  of  this  halt  to 
breakfast,  and  I  need  scarcely  say  with  what  childidi 
joy  we  quaff  a  bumper  of  arrack  and  cold  water  to  our 
beloved  native  country,  which  we  now  confidently  hope  to 
see  again,  and  to  the  success  of  our  adventurous  journey. 

Our  poor  friends,  the  Bedouins  of  our  escort,  are  as 
merry  as  oiu^elves.  They  have  resumed  their  light 
undress,  and  have  bathed  in  tJie  htst  river  we  croasod,  to 
got  rid  of  the  innumcraUe  contributions  of  slimy  mud 
adhering  to  their  bodies,  acquired  by  running  right  and 
left  to  the  assistance  of  everybody  ;  and  more  eepedally 
when  fstling  at  almost  every  step  on  this  glutinous  miro 


T.0SBB8  RBOOMPBNSED. 


489 


upon  which  yon  can  only  obtain  a  fii-m  footing  by  sinking 
deeply  into  it.  One  of  our  Th&dmeras,  a  fine  noble 
specimen  of  the  wild  Arab,  as  faithful  as  our  trusty 
Ahoiuwi,  and  wlio  might  stand  as  a  model  before  any 
sculptor  for  the  statue  of  a  hero,  is  suddenly  seized  with 
violent  cramps  in  the  stomach,  which,  in  a  moment,  so 
distort  his  features,  that  he  looks  like  a  dying  man.  A 
brother  of  the  tribe  rubs  him  with  all  his  might  on  the 
back  and  chest,  but  with  no  effect.  This  poor  fellow  is 
broken  down  with  fatigue  and  sufleriiig.  1  am  imme- 
diately summoned  to  his  assistance,  and  find  him  tvrithing 
on  the  shore  in  an  agony  of  paiu.  Bciug  at  a  loss  how  to 
proceed,  I  think,  as  a  preliminaiy,  of  making  him  swallow 
half  a  gla^  of  arrack.  He  luis  ucvor  tasted  this  fermented 
liquor  in  his  life,  and  I  expect  the  novelty  will  so  astonish 
the  stomach  of  my  Bedouin  tliat  the  cramps  will  be 
removed  at  once.  I  produce  the  arrack  I  propose  to 
give  him  ;  but  hia  scruplus  as  a  true  Mussulman  believer 
interfere,  and  he  pushes  back  the  glass.  I  have  then  but 
one  recourse,  namely,  to  send  fur  tlie  khatib  and  tell  him 
to  persuade  our  friend  that  what  I  want  him  to  take  is  a 
medicinal  potion  and  notlung  else.  The  kliatib  insists 
upon  this  ai^ument ;  our  Bedouin  tlien  makes  up  his 
mind  to  act  a(!cordingly,  and  swallows  the  brandy,  making 
something  of  a  wry  mouth  at  first;  but  after  a  few  seconds 
he  is  quite  surprised  to  find  himself  completely  cured.  He 
stands  up  smiling,  and  begins  to  walk  about  with  the  same 
honest  and  laughing  countunauoe  be  had  before.  Thank 
Heaven,  we  are  thus  delivered  from  a  serious  anxiety. 

Next  appears,  introduced  by  Matteo,  one  of  our  moukris, 
all  sobs  and  tears ;  he  is  ihe  owner  of  the  liurine  that  has 
just  been  drowned  in  the  mud.    I  present  him,  on  the 


ftOO 


SAUr   MUUMTAIIIS  OP  aODOtl. 


pnblic  aooount,  m\h  nn  indomnily  of  a  lumiired  piastrtA ; 
aud  Uio  poor  doril  looks  up  also,  in  liui  turn,  with  a  roerrv 
face — a  cheap  rate  at  which  to  dispense  happiness.  We 
add  a  gORoral  gratuitv  of  two  hundred  piastres,  to  be 
eqiinllj'  divided  amongst  our  attendants,  tlitis  inipartiDg 
additJoual  cheerfulness  to  llic  hearts  of  all,  aiid  causing 
a  speedy  oblivion  of  the  fatigues  aiid  tcrron;  of  the 
Sabkhah. 

Soon  after  mid-day  we  remount  our  horses,  and 
proceed,  coasting  again  the  foot  of  the  Salt  Mountain, 
or  Djebel-Esdoum.  We  retrace  our  steps  in  front  of  the 
cave  whore  we  halted  a  few  days  before^  to  breakfiisl, 
and  we  find  the  entrance  nearly  blocked  up  by  huge 
masses  of  salt  that  ha%'e  rolled  down  to  the  foot  of  the 
mountain,  having  been  detached  by  the  late  rains. 
Similar  masses  present  themselres  to  us  tJiroughout 
nearly  the  whole  extent  of  the  mountain,  and  these 
new  cnimblings  give  a  strange  appearance  to  the  steep 
rocks.  When  looking  at  some  of  these  needles  of  salt, 
recently  insulated,  I  am  not  surprised  that  Captain  Lyndi 
sliould  have  taken  one  of  them  for  what  he  lias  called  tltc 
salt-pillar  into  which  Lot's  wife  was  transformed.  I 
regret  much  that  this  intelligent  American  officer  did  not 
happen  to  examine  the  Salt  Mountain  on  two  diScrent 
occasions,  and  in  the  rainy  season  ;  tie  would  then  bare 
found  a  hundred  Lot's  wives  instead  of  oue. 

The  level  of  the  sea  seems  to  have  risen  a  little  durii^ 
the  time  that  has  j)aasod  siuoe  wo  were  hero  before ;  for 
the  water's  edge,  properly  speaking,  has  vi.iibly  drawo 
nearer  the  foot  of  tlio  muuntiin.  It  is  true  the  coast  is 
80  flat  at  this  point  that  an  increase  of  half  a  yard  in  the 
heij^ht  of  the  water  miiKt  r.arry  the  margin  of  the  shore 


BUItrS  OP  80D0M. 


501 


more  thau  n  huiidrcil  yartlii  ticyoud  JtB  original  limit.  The 
conscqueuce  of  this  increase  is,  that  the  ground  we  march 
upun  is  much  more  diSicult  of  passage  tliau  at  the  period 
of  our  former  visit. 

Forty-six  minutes  past  two  have  arrived,  when  wc  find 
ourselves  again  precisely  in  front  (and  ten  yards  distant 
on  tiio  lofl),  of  tlie  collection  of  ruius  bearing  ttic  namo 
of  Uedjom-el-Mezorrhel.  The  water's  edge  is  scarcely 
forty  or  fifty  yards  to  our  right,  whilst  the  foot  of  the 
mountain  is  only  thirty  yards  from  the  roatl  we  are 
following.  When  we  reach  the  Kcdjom-el-Mezorrliel  wo 
are  marching  nortJi  by  west.  By  filly>two  minutes  paBt 
two  we  turn  wcst-north-wesL  The  sea  is  then  oiglity 
yards  off,  and  tlie  foot  of  the  mouncain  distant  one 
hundred  and  fifty  yards.  The  shore,  having  thus  become 
wider,  exposes  to  our  view  lai^e  blocks  of  stone,  worn  by 
time,  and  in  the  midst  of  them  we  soon  distinguish  regular 
rows,  being  the  foundations  of  ancient  walls.  We  are 
now  miqueatiouably  in  Uie  midst  of  ruins,  apparent  and 
distinguishable,  covering  a  space  of  nearly  four  liuudred 
yards  in  extent.  Oui-  coui-se  at  this  time  ia  north-north- 
west To  our  right  is  a  sandy  beach,  and  before  us  the 
IUiickct  of  bushes  or  dwarf  trees,  into  which  our  com- 
panions had  incautiotisty  ventured,  in  search  of  game,  on 
our  fonner  journey. 
To  our  Icfl  the  Djobel-Ksdoura  has  ceased  to  form  a 
gingle  mass,  and  wc  have  arrived  In  front  of  the  vast 
excrescences,  or  projecting  hillocks,  bordering  the  northern 
point  of  this  mountain.  On  these  hillocks,  which  present 
^an  exten^ve  surface,  disjointed  accimiulations  ap{)e8r, 
^exhibiting  positive  and  infallible  evidence  of  the  existence, 
VII  tim  point,  of  a  very  considerable  town.     We  wind 


I 


502 


BCINS  or  SOAR. 


cloftoly  rounil  the  foot  of   theee    ruina,  so    tliat  it  k 

impossilite  to  mistake  their  origin.  Bv  three  o'clock  the 
thicket  of  trc«8  concealing  the  xiew  of  ihc  sea,  ia  eighty 
yards  off,  to  our  right.  Our  course  is  now  north-north- 
west. 

By  seven  minutes  past  three  wc  cross  the  dr)'  bed  of  a 
torrent,  fifteen  yarda  wide.  Here  the  hillocks  covered 
vith  ruins  are  divided  by  a  ravine,  and  forra  two  distinct 
masses,  bearing  on  their  surface  the  immense  frjignients 
which  the  Arabs  accomjjanyiug  us  arc  uuauimuus  in 
calling  Esdoum  (Sodom).  In  the  plain  itself,  beyond  tlie 
bed  of  the  torrent  I  have  just  montiooed,  appear  numeroiui 
lines  of  stone  blocks,  remains  of  the  primfcral  habitations. 
By  eleven  minutes  past  three  we  march  west-north-west, 
starting  from  the  spot  where  the  ruins  heaped  upon  the 
plain  cease  to  appear.  We  then  keep  constantly  following 
the  same  direction,  whilst  tJie  delta  upon  which  our  roatl 
u  traced  has  become  a  vast  plain,  intersected  by  maJiy 
ravines,  strewed  with  large  rolled  blocks,  and  pUnted  wilb 
a  vast  number  of  mimosas,  or  acacias. 

By  a  quarter-past  three,  we  are  opposite  the  eKtreme 
point  of  the  Djcbel-Esdoutn,  which  ends  in  a  perpendicular 
steep  commanding  a  large  and  beautifiil  plain,  planted 
with  mimosas,  and  spreading  to  a  com>idfrablo  distance  in 
a  south-soiith-wcat  direction. 

By  half-paat  three  we  reach  the  foot  of  the  first  hillocks, 
about  thirty  yards  in  height,  flanking  tlie  moutti  of  the 
Ouad-ez-Zoucra,  and  begin  the  ascent  of  this  ouad 
immediately  after,  directing  our  course  at  Brttt  due  west. 
Upon  tlic  level  creata  of  the  two  hillocks  I  have  jtis* 
mentioned,  are  very  numerous  ruinii,  of  the  same  descrip- 
tion as  those  of  Ayu-Djedy,  Esdoum,  En-Nemaireb,  and 


RUIN9  OF   ZOAH. 


Sebaaii.  Amongst  the  Arabs,  these  ruins  arc  called 
Zoucra-ct-TahUli.  Thc^  arc  therefore  the  ruins  of  the 
ZiMir  that  succeeded  the  Zoar  of  the  Scriptures,  and  on 
the  same  site. 

It  has  been  stated  that  we  passed  the  limits  of  Utc  niins 
of  Sodom  by  oteveu  minutes  past  tliree ;  we  reach  the 
ruins  of  Zoar,  or  Segor,  by  thirty  minutes  past  throe.  It 
has  thus  taken  uu  niueteen  minutes  to  pans  from  the  one 
place  to  the  other,  which  implies  that  the  distance  bctwccu 
thetn  is  somewhat  less  than  two  thousand  yards,  or  a  mile 
and  a  quarter  according  to  English  measurement.  I  was 
theu  perfectly  justified  in  affirmiug  at  an  earlier  page,  that 
the  relative  situation  of  the  ruins  of  Sodom  and  Zoar 
exactly  corresponded  witli,  and  confirmed  all  the  circum- 
stances of  the  narrative  transmitted  to  us  by  the  Bible,  of 
the  flight  of  Lot ;  this  flight  having  boon  accomphshed 
within  tiie  interval  of  time  between  the  first  break  of  day 
atid  the  full  rise  of  tlio  »uu. 

By  thirty-four  minutes  past  three  we  are  marching  due 
west,  anc!  passing  along  the  foot  of  the  hills  forming  the 
righl  bank  of  the  deeply-ravinod  bed  of  the  torrent  which 
has  hollowed  out  the  Ouad-ez-Zouera.  Tliis  bed  has  in 
some  places  a  breadth  of  about  a  hundred  yards,  but  in 
others  it  becomes  exceedingly  uarrow.  Beyond  and  above 
the  hills  on  the  left,  we  descry  the  summit  of  the  Djebel* 
Esdoum,  which  »eems  to  he  at  the  distance  of  about  four 
Uiousand  yards.  We  keep  marchuig  on  at  a  distance  of 
BOTDc  fifteen  yards  from  the  steep  acclivities  forming  the 
bod  of  the  ouad.  Just  tiien  we  perceive,  on  our  right,  a 
huge  subverted  cone,  exactly  resembling  the  crater  of  an 
extinct  volcano. 

Ko    description   cau    adequately  express  the  desolatu 


604 


KVlDEKCBft  OF   VOLCAKIC  AQHlTOy. 


aspect  of  the  Ouad-ez-Zouoru.  On  nil  sides  notlmig  u  to 
be  seen  but  iinmense  cha-sros,  rw-ks  violently  torn  from 
tlieir  origtool  masscii,  and  hurled  dowu  iuto  tbu  bottom  of 
tUc  ouAil ;  perpendicular  cliffs,  of  a  itofl  crumbling  nemo 
which  looks  like  volcanic  ashos,  but  wltich  is  in  reaSty 
DOChing  hut  &  kind  of  sand  of  the  same  deeciiption  as  tlut 
of  tlie  hillocks  of  Sebboh  and  of  tlie  peninsula  of  Kl-Lissn. 
Ahvr  liaring  follonud,  for  a  long  time,  the  bank  of  the  bed 
of  the  ouad,  which  is  about  tliirty  yards  below  our  road, 
and  plauted,  hero  and  tbere,  wiUi  large  acacias,  tbialj' 
scttllered,  we  descend  into  the  bed  itwsli^  and  proceed 
along  it  for  a  considerable  distance  Ritlher.  By  forty-nine 
minutes  past  thnK  \vc  pass,  on  our  lefl,  a  dark-coloured 
mountain,  that  looks  as  if  it  had  been  calcined  by  int 
fire,  and  which  commands,  from  a  lofty  elcvatiiHi, 
doeply-lioUowed  ouad  through  which  we  are  prooeeding. 
To  our  right  we  observe  ina:)ses  of  the  same  broken  ruck% 
similar  tn  height  and  appearance.  We  seem,  as  it  wi 
to  bo  enclosed  within  two  lufiy  walli,  higher  than  the ' 
can  reach,  and  separated  by  a  defile  scarcely  exceeding 
one  hundred  yards  iu  width.  Our  course  for  some 
minutes  has  scarcely  deviated  from  west-north-west.  By 
fifty-live  minutes  past  throe  we  find  ourselves  in  [root  of 
an  enormous  bifurcation  of  the  ouad.  The  right  branch 
lias  no  outlet,  and  penetrates  two  or  three  hundred  yards 
westward,  into  tbe  boseoi  of  the  calcareous  rocks  ;  the  left 
branch  is  the  actual  continuation  of  the  Ouad-cz-Zouen, 
and  tunis  to  the  south -south-west.  This  is  tlie  ti«ck  by 
which  we  shall  proceed  to-morrow  to  the  upper  country. 
To-day  we  have  determined  to  encamji  in  the  recess  on 
the  right,  which  is  called  En-Nedjd  (Uie  high  cliiT).  There 
on  a  small  rocky  ledge,  appear  the  ruins  of  a  very  ancieQt 


i 


BSTRAOBDWART  BPBCTACLE. 


SOfi 


» 


* 


Ktructuro.  At  tlio  foot  of  Uiiti  ledge  our  tents  are  pitched. 
A  liltlc  neiii'cr  to  the  entrance  of  the  NedjM,  is  hollowed 
out,  on  the  side  of  the  mouutaiu,  a  vory  elevated  cavcrii, 
but  of  no  great  extent,  where  our  Scheikhs  establisli 
tbemseivcii  with  their  followorti.  Wo  halted  ut  exactly 
three  minutes  to  four. 

During  our  march  through  the  Oimd-ez-Zouera,  aitd 
wlien  wc  had  attaiued  a  .poiut  above  tlie  Wvcl  of  the  Dead 
E)ea,  sufficiently  elet'ated,  we  were  singuhirly  fortunate  in 
being  present  at  a  spectacle  foiv  uicu  can  hope  to  witness 
twice  in  their  lives,  and  which  demands  a  passing  comment. 
We  may  almost  say  tJiat  wc  saw  the  catastrophe  of  the 
Pentapolis,  and  are  still  under  the  strong  impre!<sion  of 
the  scene  that  we  gawd  oii  with  the  most  intense 
excitement. 

As  we  were  hiboriously  pursuing  our  way  between  the 
Djebel-Esdoum  and  the  sea,  a  storm,  that  had  come  down 
from  the  mountains  of  Canaan,  burst  exactly  over  the 
Asphalutic  Lake,  at  about  the  meridian  of  Masada  and  of 
the  peninsula  of  Kl-Lisan.  Dark-grey  cloudn  had  united 
the  sea  and  sky,  concealing  in  utter  darkness  all  the 
northern  part  of  this  tleep  valley.  Suddenly,  a  splendid 
raiuhow,  of  dazzling  brightness  and  richly  variegated 
colours,  appeared  to  form  a  gigantic  archway,  thrown  by 
the  hand  of  the  Almighty  between  the  two  o]>posito  shores 
of  the  Dead  Sea.  The  reader  may  fancy  how  much  we 
were  moved  by  the  magnificence  of  this  uatural  phoiio- 
menon  ;  but  it  was  nothing  compared  with  what  wag 
I'eserved  for  us  towards  tlie  end  of  tlic  same  day. 

When  wo  began  asccn<ting  the  first  accHvities  of  the 
Ouad-ez-Zouera,  Urge  black  clouds,  driven  by  the  westerly 
yriud,  passing  above  uur  he^ds  and  over  (he  Djebel-EiKlouiu, 


fioe 


KXTBAORDINABV    BTKCTACUt. 


roahed  down  upon  the  Dea*!  Sea,  in  tJic  direction  of  the 
RbSr-Safieli,  Uton  riaiog  again  along  the  flank  of  the 
mouQtaiua  of  Moab,  soon  cleared  the  view  and  ailuwed  us 
to  contemplate  Lbe  expanse  of  water,  resembling  a  vast 
motionless  sheet  of  multcu  lead.  Bjr  dogreee,  as  the  storm 
hurried  towards  the  cant)  the  western  sky  became  again 
pure  and  radiant ;  then  for  a  uiomcnl,  tho  setting  sun 
darted  above  the  mountains  of  Canaan  fiery  rays,  which 
seemed  almost  to  eorcr  tho  siuumits  of  the  land  of  Jloab 
with  tho  flames  of  an  enormous  conflagration,  while  the 
bases  of  those  ini^iosing  mountains  remained  as  bUick  as 
ink.  Above  was  tlie  dark  lowering  sky  ;  below,  the  sea, 
like  a  metallic  »hcet  of  dull  leaden  grey  :  around  us,  ihe 
silenoe  of  the  desert,  and  uUer  desolation.  Alar  off,  ia 
tlte  west,  a  bright,  cloudless  sky,  shining  over  a  hleami 
land,  whilst  we  seemed  to  bo  flying  fi^m  a  country 
condemned  for  ever. 

It  is  imj^ossiblo  to  describe  tliis  scene,  which,  to  be  fully 
understood  and  felt,  must  have  been  witnessed.  Our 
Bedouins,  themselves,  tliough  accustomed  to  the  grandest 
operations  of  Nature,  participated  in  the  sensations  by 
which  we  were  completely  mastered,  "  Chouf,  ia-sidy," 
they  exclaimed  to  me  ;  "  chouf  I  Allah  yedrob  Esdoum  • '' 
("  See,  sir,  see  !  Allah  is  smiting  Sodom  i ")  and  they 
were  right.  The  tremendous  spectacle  which  was  wit- 
nessed by  Lot,  from  nearly  the  same  spot  whcro  we  were 
now  standing,  must  have  borne  a  striking  resemblance  to 
the  magnificent  repetition  with  which  wo  had  just  been 
favoured  by  Uie  same  presiding  Providence. 

Our  good  fortune  in  having  ciicapod  with  safety  out  of 
the  hands  of  the  ficdouins  of  Moab,  and  the  Schcikh  of 
Kmak,  and  above  all  from  thu  perils  of  the  iiSabkhalt  ;  our 


ASCENT  OF  THE  SCOKPUHR. 


I 


joy  at  baving  discovered  the  niins  of  Sodom,  And  at 
baviug  beboM  a  sight  which  recalled  the  destructiou  of 
the  Pentapolis.  furnished  ample  aubjects  for  our  ovoiiing'a 
conversation  under  the  tcntH.  Most  agreeable  was  it  to 
review,  in  order,  in  our  memories,  all  the  episodes  of  our 
adventurous  excursion,  and  to  repeat  to  each  other,  whilst 
enjoj^ing  the  double  fragrance  of  the  djebely  and  the  moka 
(tobacco  and  cofToo),  that  the  real  dajigers  of  our  under- 
taking were  now  over,  and  that  it  only  remained  for  us  to 
enjoy,  in  security,  the  result  of  our  discoveries  and  tiic  fruits 
of  our  persevering  khour. 

Bothschild,  who  had  do  map  to  complete,  by  line,  rule, 
and  compass,  and  no  note-book  to  fill  up,  boldly  ventured 
alone  into  the  midst  of  the  ruins  of  Sodom,  aud  traversed 
their  entire  extent,  at  the  risk  of  encountering  some 
dangerous  accident.  When  I  observed  him  imprudently 
committing  himself  upon  this  unsafe  ground,  I  hastened 
to  send  two  of  our  DjalmliuM  in  pursuit  of  him,  command- 
ing them  besides  to  look  amongst  the  nuns,  aud  bring 
away,  if  possible,  some  fragment  of  pottery.  On  our 
arrival  at  the  Nedjd,  they  confidently  presented  me  witli 
the  remains  of  a  jar,  but  evidently  of  modern  construc- 
tion, which  they  had  picked  up.  Heaven  knows  when  and 
where.  This  gran<l  discovery  procured  them  at  the 
moment  a  few  piastres  ;  but  I  soon  got  rid  of  the  pseudo- 
rcUc  by  Hirowing  it  amongst  the  rocks  upon  which  we  arc 
encamped. 

There  is  every  reason  to  suppose  that  the  Ouad-CK- 
Zonera  is  precisely  the  pass  or  Ascent  of  the  Scorpions 
mentioned  in  Holy  Writ.  For  my  own  part,  I  am  satis- 
lied  on  the  subject ;  and  at  all  events  I  can  attest  tliat 
the  Ouad-ez-Zouera  is  in  every  respect  entitled  to  that 


SOS 


OBOLOOICAL   APPXAKAKCB. 


denomination.  Yon  cannot  tunt  over  a  Kinglo  pebble  in 
the  Nudjd.  vritiiout  finding  under  it  one  of  those  unpopular 
animals.  They  stroll  even  into  our  tent,  vrhen  dLsuirbed 
from  their  accustomed  hiding-places.  The  proverb  eaja 
"  habit  is  second  nature,"  and  sa^rn  so  with  good  reason. 
A  month  ago,  the  sight  of  a  scorpion  powerfully  ailectcd 
my  nervous  system  ;  to-day  the  apparition  of  one  of  those 
ci-catures,  even  when  uncxjtecU^,  has  ceased  lo  cause  tlie 
slightest  emotion ;  I  merely  tread  ujran  it  with  perfect 
composure.  By  this  I  mean  to  convey,  Uiat  vrithoul  having 
acquired  a  greater  liking  for  scorpions,  I  have  ceased  to 
be  afraid  of  itieni. 

Our  night  has  been  delightfal,  and  wc  compotied  our- 
selves to  sleep  with  the  pleading  recollection  of  the  happy 
issue  of  our  adventurous  royage  of  discover)*. 

This  momiog  we  had  no  occasion  to  urge  our  forces  to 
activity,  ever)*  man  was  ready  by  dawn  ;  and  we  ourselTee, 
who  ought  to  have  set  the  first  example,  were  the  only 
sluggards  to  delay  the  departure  of  the  caravan.  It  is 
true  that  I  adhere  to  my  plan  never  to  give  the  order  lo 
move  until  wc  have  taken  our  early  break&st ;  a  frugal 
repast  most  certainly,  but  still  indispensable,  if  wc  wi^^h 
lu  sustiun  with  greater  caj»e  the  fatigue  of  tmvelliug  and 
the  evil  influences  of  the  climate. 

By  seven  o'clock  we  were  on  the  march,  and  retracing 
our  steps,  entered  once  more  upon  the  Ouad-ez-Zouera« 
which  we  had  deviated  from  the  day  before,  for  the 
p\irpose  of  encamping  at  the  Isedjd.  As  soon  as  we  have 
gained  the  ouad,  wliich  is  not  more  than  forty  or  Ghy 
yards  wide,  and  still  commanded  to  the  right  by  an  immense 
conical  hill  uf  yellowish  sand,  and  to  the  left  by    broken 


mnSS   OK    THE    UPPER   ZOAH. 


609 


I 
I 


|terpcndicu3jir  rocks,  «■(•  marcli  westward  bj  north.  Almost 
iuimediately  aftei-,  two  huge  conical  sand-IiUIfi  appear  to 
the  left  nf  tlie  ouad,  whilst  a  large  dark  rock,  of  the  same 
descriptiou  as  that  which  wc  had  passed  a  niomont  before 
to  our  k'ft,  stjiiids  out  in  bold  relief,  to  our  right,  on  the 
saiid-hitla.  The  rocks,  forming  the  bottom  of  the  ouad. 
arc  covered,  aa  we  have  bad  alreadjr  occasion  to  observe, 
with  a  kind  of  crust  composed  of  a  conglomerate  of  small 
rolled  fraguicuts,  ccmcutcd  into  n  calcareous  paste,  which 
haa  motilded  itself  according  to  the  angles  and  cavities  of 
these  rocks.  Is  this  compound  an  alluvial  or  a  volcanic 
production  1  The  question  I  leave  to  the  decision  of 
professed  geologists.  Duriaig  several  minutes  we  keep 
ascending,  and  by  twelve  minutes  past  seven  we  reach  a 
meiliieval  ruin,  known  to  the  Arabs  by  the  name  of  Qasr- 
ox-Zoucra,  or  of  Zouera-ol-Fouqali  (the  upper  Zoar). 
This  interesting  ruin  has  been  already  described  by 
Messrs.  Irby  and  ifangles,  and  at  a  mucli  later  period 
by  il.  de  lierton  ;  but,  as  nuns  of  this  kind  are  rarely 
visitad,  I  scarcely  suppose  I  sliall  tiro  the  patience  of  my 
readers  in  giving  them,  as  succinctly  as  |>ossiblo,  an  idea 
of  the  buildings  accumulated  at  this  point  of  the  Ouad-ex- 
Zouera, 

The  difficult  road  wc  liavc  been  following,  runs  along 
the  left  flank  of  a  very  steep,  conical,  calcareous  hill,  the 
upper  level  of  whicli  is  occupied  by  fortifications  well  Uid 
out,  80  as  to  command  the  whole  pass  through  the  Ouad- 
ez-Zouera.  On  the  eastoru  point  of  the  conical  hill 
is  a  small  square  fort,  commanding  the  portion  of  the 
road  leading  up  from  the  dioro  of  the  Dead  Sea.  A 
short  disuinc«  behind  this  fort,  to  the  westward,  and 
upon  a  mound  several  yards  high,  is  another  defensive 


MO 


FOBTS   AKD  UELITABY   OITTPOaTB. 


enclosure,  much  more  cx)tisi(lerable.  This  is  a  Idnd 
of  pentajroii,  the  casteni  face  of  which  oomprisoa  a  curtain 
(lankud  by  two  round  towers ;  llie  tower  on  the  ri^L 
or  northern  face,  is  in  ruins,  whilst  the  one  on  the  left  m 
still  in  a  fair  state  of  preservation.  Tlie  western  face 
presents  a  salient  angle,  ending  in  a  round  tower  that 
comniands  the  entire  ascent,  which,  after  winding  round 
the  lia^e  of  the  hill,  leads  up  to  the  higher  country. 

To  tlie  south  of  this  principal  structure,  ajid  on  tltc 
same  level  with  the  amall  square  fort  I  have  mentioned 
first,  are  still  standing  two  high  walls  of  a  buildiog. 
which  must  hare  been  originally  square,  having  on  its 
western  face  an  ogival  gate,  still  in  good  repair,  but 
without  any  ornament ;  and  on  its  southern  lace,  as  well 
08  I  can  recollect,  two  bay  windows.  All  these  con* 
structions  are  in  hewn  stone,  of  a  whitisli  colour,  regulariy 
cut  and  Qtced,  but  of  small  dimensions.  In  front  of  this 
building  is  a  well,  excavated  in  the  rock. 

To  Uie  left  of  the  i-oad,  and  nearly  opposite  the  smalt 
square  foil,  is  a  ver}'  high  rock,  in  which  a  cavern  has 
been  hollowed,  at  a  considerable  elevation,  with  openings 
or  windows,  resembling  embrasures,  looking  towards  tho 
road,  and  disposed  so  as  to  fiank  it  witb  a  cross  fire  of 
the  projectiles,  whatever  may  have  been  their  nature, 
which  were  prepared  for  ioterccpting.  in  case  of  need, 
the  access  to  the  upper  level.  Beyond  this  cliff,  at  the 
foot  of  which  a  fine  quadrangular  dstern  is  hollowed 
in  the  rocks,  a  steep  ravine  ascends  towards  the  soutli- 
west,  leading  most  probably  to  the  cave  I  hare  just 
mentioned. 

The  right  peak  of  the  ravine  is  formed  by  a  huge 
rock,  at   the  foot  of  whicli    is  hewn,  in  front  of  the 


F0RT9    AKn    HII.ITAKT   0DTP08TR. 


Ml 


I 


Qasr,  a  second  square  dstcni,  in  very  good  repair,  but 
lOontnining  only  a  small  quantity  of  muddy  water.  The 
rond  passes  to  the  leh  of  this  cisteni,  and  is  encumbered 
by  several  heaps  of  nibbish  ;  indications,  although 
at  present  undiatinguishablc,  of  habitations,  or,  what  is 
more  likely,  of  inferior  military  works,  intended  as  out- 
posta. 

The  Mcont  is  very  steep,  and  soon  reaches  a  point 
where  a  succession  of  frequent  and  short  zigzagB  com- 
mences. At  this  point  two  heaps  of  ruins,  sitiutod  the 
one  to  the  right,  the  other  to  tlie  left  of  the  ascent,  are 
distiuguishffble,  from  their  disposition  itself,  as  having 
lieen  two  advanced  posts.  About  half  way  up  the 
corkscrew  ascent,  which  is  cut  in  the  flanks  of  a  vcrj' 
hard  dark-coloured  rock,  tlie  path  is  internipted  by  three 
ruined  walls,  which,  in  all  probability,  were  perforate^! 
by  openings,  sufficiently  wide  to  allow  a  passage  for  loaded 
camels. 

Twenty-four  minutes  past  seven  have  arrived,  when  wo 
reach  the  last  zigxag  on  the  ascending  f>ath  taking  us  up 
to  a  small  inclined  plain,  where  we  allow  oiu-  horses  to 
breathe  for  three  minutes.  Here  the  road  still  tending  in 
a  due-westerly  direction,  is  flanked  on  the  left  by  a  wall 
in  niins.  A  little  higher  up  again,  by  thirty-one  minutes 
past  seven,  we  scramble  over  the  ruins  of  two  other  walls 
ban-iug  the  passage.  Here  the  road  becomes  broken  by 
loose  stones,  and  turns  sharply  towards  the  north-north- 
west 

We  have  now  attained  an  upper  plain,  everywhere 
covered  with  heaps  of  ])cbbles,  which  seem  to  have  been 
violently  thrown  together  by  some  volcanic  process.  To 
our  right,  running  parallel  with  the  liuc  wo  are  following. 


ftU 


BOTASICAl.  DlEOOVItBT. 


is  a  steep  arte]  wUtc  rnvine,  nppetiring  also,  la  we  view  it 
from  a  diKtance,  to  be  hollowed  to  a  comsderable  depth. 

On  thi»  plain,  which  Rcarcelv  exhibits  a  blade  of  grass; 
I  perceive  from  my  saddle  a  kind  of  flower,  baviog  some 
resemblance  to  a  large,  dried,  Kaster  daby  {Paqvercde) ; 
it  is  quite  open,  well  displayed  upon  the  soil,  and  looks 
as  if  it  wa8  alive.  On  alighting  to  examine  it  more 
closely,  I  distinguish  a  plant  of  the  radiated  fiunily.  but 
without  leaver  or  petals ;  in  a  word,  the  plant  is  quite 
dead ;  how  long  it  \xa&  remained  in  this  state,  it  is  impos- 
sible to  gue»i.  It  retains  a  kind  of  fantastic  existence. 
I  gather  a  few  samples,  which  I  place  in  my  holsters, 
these  having  for  a  long  time  ceased  co  be  a  receptflcle  for 
tjrc-anns,  and  being  daily  crammed  with  stones  and 
plants. 

Another  word  reapccting  this  extraordinary  plant.  In 
the  evening,  when  !  happened  to  empty  my  holsters.  I 
was  quite  surprised  to  find  (he  dead  flowers  closed  up,  and 
as  dry  and  hard  as  if  they  were  made  of  wood.  I  then 
recognised  a  small  flower,  with  a  long  tap-root,  which  I 
had  never  seen  alive,  but  had  already  picked  up  at  the 
place  where  we  halted  to  breakfast  ou  our  deecont  to 
Aj'u-Djedy.  What  prevented  me  from  ascertaiuing  this 
identity  at  linit  sight  was,  that  one  sample  wa.<j  gathereil 
in  a  stale  of  moisture,  white  ihe  other  was  picked  up  pei^ 
fectly  dry.  It  was  then  quite  clear  that  tliia  ligneous  and 
exceedingly  tough  vegetable  possessed  peculiar  prop«rtie^ 
which  developed  themselves  hygrometrically,  with  tb« 
corresponding  changes  of  the  soil  an<l  aUiiofiphere.  I 
iuimethately  tried  the  experiment,  and  discovered  tliat  the 
Kaff-Maryam,  the  Rose  of  Jericho  of  the  pilgrims  {^/t«a»la^ 
tica  kitrichitntica)  so  celebrated  for  the  same  faculty,  was 


RAUIXJYA    HIKRICtltJSTICA. 


313 


I 


not  to  be  cornimrcd  to  my  rocetit  discoTcry.  A  Kaff- 
Ikfuryam,  placeil  in  water,  takes  an  hour  and  a  half  beforo 
it  is  ciitirt'ly  open  ;  whilst  in  the  case  of  my  little  flower 
I  watched  it  visibly  expanding,  and,  without  cxAj2;gerfttion, 
the  chango  was  complete  in  less  than  three  miautos. 

I  then  recollected  the  hcrnldic  boaring  called  ttie  Iloao 
of  Jericho,  which  is  emblazoned  on  some  cHcutchcona, 
dating  from  tho  time  of  the  Cnisades  ;  and  I  became  con- 
vinced that  I  \iaA  diacovcrod  the  real  Hose  of  Jericho, 
long  lost  sight  of  after  the  fall  of  the  Latin  kingdom  of 
Jerusalem,  and  replaced  by  the  ^nastaiica,  or  iCaff- 
Maryam ;  which  a  Mussulman  trailition.  acccptc<t  by 
Christiitns,  pointed  out  to  the  piety  of  the  early  pil- 
grims, who  inquired  from  the  inhiibitants  of  tho  country 
what  was  the  plant  of  the  plain  of  Jericho  that  never 

I  died,  and  came  to  life  again  as  soon  a*  it  was  dipped  in 
water. 
Under  any  circumstances,  this  singubir  hygromctric 
vegetable  constituttM  an  entirely  new  genus  for  botanists, 
judging  by  what  we  know  of  it,  tliat  is  to  say,  by  its 
^skeleton.  My  friend,  the  AbM  Michon,  has  undertaken 
to    describe   tins   curious    plant,    and   has    paid    nie  tho 

t compliment  of  naming  it  Sauln/a  itierickHtiHm.  Unques- 
tionably, the  honour  \s  all  on  my  side. 
I  return  now  to  my  diary. 
Close  upon  eight  o'clock  wo  reach,  by  a  few  winding 
paths,  a  rocky  ledge,  where  the  pebbles  seem  to  have  been 
grilled,  and  vomo  upon  a  plain  of  wmall  e.xtenL  Since  we 
have  gained  the  crest  bordering  the  plain,  we  march 
almost  invariably  to  the  north-west.  1)y  five  minutes 
post  eight  we  descry,  ten  yards  distant  to  our  lefl,  a  heap 
of  ruins,  resembling  the  remains  of  a  round  tower.     At 


TOU  u 


LL 


6U 


TUK    RAft-fW-ZOtfRBA. 


this  spot  oommences  the  «Icvat«Ml  flat  cnlled  Ra»-M- 
Zouorn.  The  large  ravine  we  have  pointed  out  before  has 
drawn  nearer  to  our  road  on  the  right.  For  the  last  ten 
nnnut«s  it  had  been  concealed  bj  hillocks,  and  tvo 
considerable  mounds  of  pebbles ;  the  summits  of  these 
latter  bearing  in  an  cast-south-east  direction. 

By  ten  mimites  past  eight  wc  are  pointing  to  the 
north-vreKt,  over  a  suuiU  plain,  commanded,  three  hundred 
yards  off  to  our  right,  by  a  range  of  high  hills,  and  eight 
hundred  yards  off,  to  our  left,  by  a  lofty  calcareous  moun- 
tain, the  foot  of  which  is  bordered  by  hillocks  of  a  grejrisli 
sand,  formed  into  compact  rocks.  Towards  tlio  summit 
of  the  mountain,  on  the  left,  a  square  grotto  is  risible, 
eridently  constructed  by  human  labour.  .At  a  quarter- 
past  eight,  we  go  down  by  a  slight  descent  upon 
another  small  plain,  dotted  with  mounds  ;  to  the  left 
of  this  plain  rise,  about  six  hundred  ysnla  off,  some 
very  high  hillocks.  In  i-ogard  to  this  tract  of  coimtrr, 
it  scarcely  deserves  the  name  of  plain,  beyond  an 
extent  of  four  hundred  yards  in  width  at  tlie  ntmost. 
It  still  continues  to  bear  the  appellation  of  Bas*es- 
Zouera. 

By  half-past  eight,  our  distance  from  the  foot  of  the 
hills  on  the  left  is  only  about  fifty  yards.  By  thirty-four 
miimtcs  past  eight  we  are  precisely  in  front  of  tlio  summit 
of  a  high  hill  of  compact  sand,  and  one  minute  Utter  we 
cross  a  ravine  coming  from  Uie  aouth-wcst.  Beyond  is  a 
small  plain,  that  spreads  out  six  hundred  yards  to  our 
left,  and  then  narrows  again  by  forty  minutes  past  eight, 
80  as  to  leave  only  a  breadth  of  sixty  yards  to  our  left, 
and  a  hundred  yards  to  our  right,  down  to  the  foot  of  a 
high  hill,  masking  the  one  whose  summit  I  noticed  Juai 


I 

I 
( 


I 


before.  On  this  aide  of  tlic  ravine,  wliich  we  have  crossed 
by  thirty-five  minutes  past  eiglit.  transportcil  fragmenta 
of  volcanic  ejections  begin  to  appear  again.  By  forty 
minutes  past  eight  \re  cross  another  ravine,  and  outer  a 
now  ouad,  rather  narrow.  boRring  the  name  of  Ouad-et- 
ThAemeh.  Our  course  is  now  west  by  north.  Up  to 
forty-seven  minutes  past  eight,  wo  are  crossing  a  small 
plain,  four  hundred  yards  wide  at  tlie  utmost,  commanded 
on  all  sides  by  sandy  hillocks  ;  the  omid  then  buconios  n 
mere  defde,  very  deep  and  narrow,  througli  wliich  our 
course  lies  north -north -west.  We  observe  here  huge 
accumulations  of  lava.  Two  thousand  yards  off  to  our 
left^  wo  notice  the  sumtnit  of  a  high  mountain,  and  soon 
issue  upon  a  small,  flat  space,  about  two  huntlred  and  fifty 
yards  in  diameter. 

By  fifty-five  minutes  ]>ast  eight  our  road  becomes 
straight  again,  and  keeps  ascending  along  the  Ouad-et- 
Tluiemeh,  in  a  north-westerly  direction.  We  have  now 
on  our  left  a  line  of  hills,  distant  about  tlurty  or  forty 
yards  from  our  road,  whilst  the  bills  on  our  right  are. 
generally  speaking,  about  one  hundred  yard.s  from  us. 
By  nine  o'clock  we  reach  and  cross  a  ravine,  beyond 
which  two  Arab  tombs  ajipeiir,  consisting  as  usual  of 
heaps  of  stones  piled  up  by  the  hand  of  man.  The 
ravine  which  we  have  just  crOHscd  makcii  an  elbow  on 
our  left,  whilat  we  arc  marching  due  north,  so  as  to  near 
very  rapidly  the  road  we  are  following,  and  to  cut  it  in 
two  other  phices.  The  ravine  is  then  very  narrow,  and 
our  path  Ucs  along  the  bottom  of  its  bed.  By  eight 
minutes  past  nine  tt  inclines  to  the  nortb-west,  and  at 
^m  this  point  we  observe  in  the  rocks  by  which  we  are 
^L  passing,  many  considerable  veins  of  a  violet,  green,  and 


I.L  8 


516 


BT-THAKHBH. 


yellow  hiio,  produced   by   the   presence  uf  copper  sncl 

manganese.  Ijctweon  the  layers  of  tlie  calcareous  nuuKe. 

My  twelve  niiimtcs  past  nine  our  route  is  due  west, 
and  the  cliffs  conline  within  nonstantly  narrowing  limita 
the  ravine  tlirough  which  we  are  moving.  Tho  rocb 
divided  hy  this  ravine  present  fine  red  and  yellow 
tho  coloui-8  of  which  arc  certAinly  owing  to  the  metallic 
mHa  I  have  indicated  above.  Lastly,  by  twenty-two 
minutes  past  nine,  we  oHmb  a  small,  steep  ascent,  between 
two  violet-coloured  rocks  thai  look  as  if  they  had  been 
roajitwl,  and  scarcely  allow  a  width  of  a  few  yards  for 
the  passage.  This  strange  spot,  where  the  effects  of  vol- 
canic eruption  arc  palpably  defined,  is  called  Souq-et- 
ThiVmeh  (the  market-phioo  of  Et-Thilcmeh.) 

The  name  of  Kt-Thi'iemoh,  which  has  struck  upon  our 
eai-s  for  the  last  half-hour,  joined  to  the  desigtiation  of  a 
luitrkct^  surprised  us  not  a  little.  I  <juc!ition  Abou-Daoak 
and  llajiidan  on  their  etj-mology,  who  both  tell  me  that 
there  existed  formerly  on  tliis  spot  tho  mai-ket-plaoe  of  a 
city  destroyed  hy  fire  from  Heaven,  sent  by  tho  vengeance 
of  Allah.  This  city  was  called  Et^Th&emeh.  and  we  are 
precisely  on  llie  site  of  the  mnrkot  LluU  was  held  there. 
Between  Kt^Thaemch  and  Admah  the  diiference  in  sound 
is  not  so  great  but  that  I  feci  greatly  leinpted  to  believe 
myself  on  tlie  nite  of  one  of  tho  towns  of  the  doomed 
PentapoHs."  Are  there  to  be  discovered  on  the  neigh- 
bouring hills  any  vestiges  of  this  city  ?  My  guides 
poditirely  affirm  that  there  are.  As  to  verifying  the  &ct 
myself,  buried  as  I  am  between  two  steep  rocks,  I  am 
unable  to  do  bo.     I  can  only  ailiriu.  that  either  before  or 


*  Hie  proniinutfLtiOD  of  Uie  Arab  wanl.  O-ThdrwA,  a  umU;  Uis 
(■f  ildndt  in  either  llio  Pranchor  EnglUli  \angmgm. — TRaIBUTOm. 


iUmI 


RAIN,    HAIL,    AND   SSOVf. 


517 


I 


aflor  tlie  Souq-ot-TltsteiiiG)i,  I  tniw  nothing  that  could  enable 
me  to  surmise  the  oxistcnce  of  an  ancient  city  in  Iticsu 
dUtricls,  80  <lec[)ly  impi'usscd  by  volcanic  a^encieH. 

IJy  twenty-five  minutes  past  nine  the  Ouad-c*t-Thfiemch 
Kuildcnly  witlcns,  and  a  large  and  doep  ravine  borders  it 
eighty  yards  off  on  our  left,  Wc  arc  tlico  marching  in 
a  nortli-westerly  direction,  hetween  two  lines  of  hills,  Qy 
twenty-iuuc  minulca  past  nine  we  cross  the  ravine  wo 
had  discovered  some  minutes  before,  and  by  tliirty-two 
minutes  past  nine  we  have,  fifly  yards  distiuit  to  our  left, 
ou  elevated  hill  commmided  by  a  very  pun^ptible  ruin. 

For  the  last  Lalf-liour,  the  sky  had  become  dark,  ami 
from  time  tu  time  drops  of  rain  had  made  my  topo- 
graphical labours  exceedingly  difficult.  At  tliis  moment 
the  rain  becomes  so  thick  and  icy  cold,  that  notwithstand- 
ing my  zeal  I  find  myself  compelled  to  give  up  laying  down 
a  map  of  the  country.  The  sky  is  obscured  ou  all  sides  ; 
the  bad  weather  is  not  likely  to  leave  us  throughout  the 
day,  and  I  am  iu  desfKiir  when  1  retlect  tliat  tlie  work  I 
iiave  carried  on  with  such  perseverance  is  now  interrupted. 
Jtfy  temper  gives  way  under  this  imexpected  disappoint- 
neut,  and  1  declaim  loudly  against  the  rain,  tJiat  ha& 
chilled  my  fingers  so  that  1  can  ncitbor  hold  pencil  nor 
compass,  aud  less  thaji  either,  my  memorandum-book, 
which  would  soon  bo  wet  througii,  aud  occasion  tlio  loos 
of  my  former  labour. 

W&  continue  on  our  way,  iu  almost  total  darkness, 
through  a  very  broken  country,  and  pelted  by  incessant 
torrents  of  rain.  Hail  soon  comes  in  to  reinforce  the 
teini)esl,  and  Ixjats  so  furiously  against  om-  facoii  tluit  w« 
arc  uL  a  loss  how  to  sciven  ourselves  from  the  painfid 
eETtictii  of  the  lar^e  bulluts  discharged  in  constant  vollcyti. 


518 


A   SHBIJTB8IK0   OUOTTl>. 


Krcd  oar  poor  IiArses  refuse  to  proceed  nndor  thui  rmfc 
squall,  aiiJ  turn  tlipir  backs  to  it  without  our  permcwioB, 
60  as  to  receive  upon  tlieir  Itaunches  tlie  trcuioiitlou&  attack 
wbicU  tiad  before  aaaailcd  tltcm  in  frouL  During  u 
interval  of  several  miniitea.  men  snd  beasts  expose  them- 
selves to  the  .storm,  waiting  anxiously  for  the  nioment 
when  it«  furj-  nia_v  relent. 

Our  Scheikhs,  not  more  incllnctl  to  bear  it  tliao 
ourselves,  and  coring  very  little  what  m,iy  become  of  ra. 
go  iu  quest  of  a  refuge  they  are  well  acquainted  with,  and 
witliout  apprising  uh  of  its  existence  Tlius,  when  the  bail 
ceases,  to  give  place  to  the  rain  alone,  we  have  no  guides, 
excepting  our  [>oor  Abouad,  who  has  never  left,  ua  for « 
moment  At  his  suggestion,  we  resume  our  march  as 
quickly  as  we  can.  through  flat  tracts  of  land  iniiodaled 
with  water,  and  arrive,  after  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  at  the 
bottom  of  a  shallow  ravine,  leading  to  a  spacious  cavern, 
where  our  escort  has  found  a  shelter.  The  weather  seenis 
to  clear  up  a  little  ;  anil,  disgusted  as  I  am  by  tlie  etorui 
we  have  just  endured,  ami  tlie  forced  interruption  of  my 
topographic^  labours.  I  reject  sulkily  tlie  proposal  of  Aboa- 
Daouk  to  halt  in  this  grotto  and  spend  there  the  remainder 
of  the  day  and  the  night. 

What  shovdd  we  gain  by  so  doing  ?  Probably  a  repe- 
tition of  tJio  same  weather  for  to-morrow.  Besides,  wc 
hare  here  nciUier  wood  nor  water.  Then  how  are  we  to 
remain  and  spend  twenty-four  hours  in  this  rcpulsTe 
cavern  i  Notwithstanding  the  strong  inclination  of  all  our 
people,  who  woiild  much  prefer  to  stay  here  and  dry 
themselvo!)  as  well  as  they  could,  1  give  onlers  to  proceed 
with  the  march,  still  fonJly  hoping  that  we  may  rcacli 
Hebron  in  tJm  evening,  although  our  Arabs  unanimously 


f 


moroSBU   lUBNTII'lCATlOK. 


519 


I 


RfGrii)  ttiat  tlic  thing  i»  impracticable.  I  remain  itmuovt^ 
able,  and  oiicc  more  give  the  BJgiial  for  departure.  How- 
ever, as  a  thorough  wetting  on  an  empty  stomach  is  by 
no  means  comfortable,  1  keep  back  Mattoo  and  Ahouad 
with  lis,  and  we  breakfast  at  the  bottom  of  the  ravmc,  a 
Utttc  to  the  southward  of  the  cave. 

I  then  lean)  that  tliis  country  is  called  Bekul-cr-Bamal1. 
Antique  ban'ioni,  made  of  lai^  stones,  everywhere 
intersect  the  ravine,  and  very  distinguishable  ruins  arc 
licattered  all  around.  Wo  are  assuredly  on  tho  site  of  a 
town  contemporary  with  the  scriptural  ages.  What  town 
can  tliis  have  been  't  I  am  uuablc  to  divine ;  and  the 
modern  name  (Er-Ramail)  of  tlio  locality,  does  not,  to  my 
great  regret,  awaken  any  rccullection  upon  wliich  1  might 
have  recourse  to  some  text  from  the  t^Sacred  authorities. 

Lot  mo,  ueverthcless,  veuturo  an  liypwlhesis.  We  find 
in  Buaebius  (ad  voceta  'hpafth),  the  following  plirase  :  Kiinn 
4irA  r€T&fnm  tnifntov  MaXaa6i,  r^s  bi  \tfifiiiv  Ato  <iKoa-(,  "  Arama 
is  a  borough  situated  at  the  fourth  mile-stone  from 
Jlalatha,"  and  at  tho  twentieth  milestone  from  Hebi-on." 
If  we  compare  tins  passage  with  another  of  tlie  saioe 
'woi'k,  where  it  ts  said  that  Thamara  is  a  borough  distant 
one  day's  march  from  Malatha,  for  those  who  are 
journeying  from  Hebron  to  Ailah,  we  slmll  bo  almost 
tempted  to  look  for  tho  Araina  of  Eusebius  in  the  Er- 
Itaiiiiiil,  where  we  have  stopped  to  hi-oakDust,  surrounded 
by  the  ruins  of  a  towuwltich  must  have  been  an  important 
one.  But,  1  repeat  it,  I  merely  propose  tliis  identification 
with  due  reserve. 

During   our    breakfast,    which    has    only   occupied    a 


*  HsUUiu  M  i-crUiiiit]'  no   other  Uanu  tbu  citj'  wuiMiJ  (m^)  Holitdab,  in 
Ju^ua.  XT.  2ii.  XiX.  X  Mil  in  I  ChiuulcliM,  i*.  SV. 


fiSO 


A   rKlBKDLY   SBKTtNBL. 


cjuarter  of  nu  hour,  the  clouds  have  separated,  luwl  a 
pale  stin  has  darted  forth  some  cold  rajra  to  cucourago 
us  to  rctiumo  our  luarch  with  vigour.  Our  luggage  i> 
ill  advance,  attended  by  our  escort.  Ahouad  alone  has 
rufuscd  to  leave  us.  We  start  flgaiu,  and  emerging  through 
the  ruins,  lying  on  a  level  with  the  ground  of  the  valley 
of  Kr-Rauiail,  ascoud  a  vast  tract  of  land,  entirely  naked, 
but  which  secuis  to  possess  a  soil  that  migiit  bo  cultivated. 
From  a  distance  we  discover  Abou-Daouk,  who«  feeling 
uuxious  lest  we  should  delay  too  long  in  this  country. 
which  is  far  fiom  safe,  has  stopped  on  the  road  to  wait  for 
us,  and  give  us  his  protection.  The  fact  its  thai  wc  are 
HOW  reaching  the  coufiue»  of  tho  country  lying  under  his 
all-powerful  dominion,  ajiJ  witli  his  single  pi-csoucc  we 
may  brave  all  the  Bedouins  who  happen  to  be  within  ten  f 
Icagufis  in  any  direction  round  us.  iStill  the  worthy 
ijcheikh  knows  perfectly  welt  that  were  we  to  trust  ■ 
entirely  to  tlio  effect  of  our  own  imposing  prtsencc  and  T 
oiuiable  looks,  the  most  virtuous  of  his  subjects  would 
scarcely  resist  tliu  temptation  of  plundering  us  to  tho  twst 
of  their  abilities.  Oui-  friend  is  on  the  look  out,  and  when 
we  have  couie  up  to  hint,  he  entreats  us  to  push  on  at  a 
good  pace,  considering  that  our  day's  journey  is  fai-  from 
finished,  ai]d  that  we  have  still  some  hours  of  niarciiing 
before  us,  ere  wo  arrive  at  a  place  with  water  aud  fire- 
wood suitable  fur  our  encampment. 

I  ajn  simple  enough  to  hint  to  him  again  thiiC  I  wish 
to  sleep  this  same  evening  in  llebren,  but  Abou-Daouk 
conlenla  himself  with  laughing  silually  in  my  face,  deem- 
ing it  unnece«tsary  to  waste  woi-ds  in  telling  lue  that  I 
may  as  readily  expect  to  sleep  in  Jerusalem.  Ahouad  is 
more  polite  and  more  explicit: — "Thou  lio|)cat  to  ruadi 


I 


I 


A   PLAIN   STUKWXD   WITH   FUiVrZHA. 


bil 


I 

I 

I 


liobron  to-day,"  says  be,  "  but  I  would  advise  thee  to  give 
up  the  idea ;  if  tliou  canst  dotonnino  to  march  without 
hnlting  a  minute,  perhaps  thou  inaycst  arrive  there 
to-morrow  niorimig ;  but  even  then  I  assure  thee  that 
no  time  must  be  wasted  on  the  way  in  pickiug  up  plants 
and  sarasir "  (this  last  word  is  the  Arabic  plural  of  the 
word  far,sour.  by  which  the  Bedouins  designate  nil  descrip- 
tions of  xcarabtri,  or  bcetlL-s),  On  receiving  this  warning, 
I  begin  to  admit  the  rehictant  belief  thiit  the  only  siiclter 
for  tlic  night  will  be  a  cold  tent,  soaked  through  with  mitt. 

The  plain  we  are  crossing  is  strewed  with  dulicious 
dustei-s  of  flowers,  of  a  rosy  white,  belonging  to  the 
family  of  lilica.  and  most  atlmctive  to  the  eye.  This 
flower  is  of  the  same  fiize  and  shape  as  the  autumnal 
mcudow-siiirron  {Colc/iique),  so  common  towardct  the  end 
of  Soplember  in  the  fields  of  our  own  country. 

As  the  niiu  hu»  compelled  me  to  give  up,  by  about  ton 
o'clock,  my  survey  of  the  ground  ;  and  as  I  have  not  been 
able  to  take  any  observation  over  a  space  of  more  than 
two  leagues  (nix  miles),  I  yield  to  tliu  incipient  laziness 
wbicli  whisiicrs  mc,  tltat  I  could  no  longer  connect  the 
localities  I  might  reconnoitre  now,  with  the  immeiiw 
extent  of  map  I  have  laid  down,  without  jnterruptiou, 
from  Bethlehem  to  Sourj-et-ThHemeh.  Whether  from 
indolence,  fatigue,  or  impossibility,  anticipated  i^ther  than 
experienced,  1  give  up,  henceforward,  the  completitm  of 
ihu  map,  I  only  thuik  of  finding,  as  soon  as  pos^hle,  a 
place  of  shelter  to  got  rcKt  and  warmth,  and  to  dry  my 
drenched  garments.  But  whcnerer  traces  of  mined  cities 
present  themselves  before  nic,  I  feel  a  pang  of  remorse, 
and  intjuirc  uuxiouxly  the  names  of  thodw  nuus,  wliilsC  I 
note  the  exact  time  of  Uiuir  discovery.     I  tJius  hope  to 


522  BUIX8  or   IL-ADADAll. 

prepare  for  future  travcllersj  luorc  lavourod  by  tho  wea' 
tlian  1  Imvu  bceu,  certain  data  upon  which  to  builii  aa 
accurate  tmrtcy  of  all  these  localities. 

At  twcnty-BCveu  minutes  past  eleven  I  observed  to  onr 
left,  distant  about  a  tJiousaud  yards  from  the  road,  and  on 
the  suinmit  of  a  hill,  a  ruin  of  imposing  appearance,  au^^l 
bearing  the  name  of  Qaar-el-Adadah.     In  this  it  is  easy^l 
to  recognise  a  Uiblical  station,  Adadah  (mny),  whidj  we 
find  mentioDed  iu  Joshua  (xv.  22),  as  amongst  t)ic  ciUee      ' 
forming  the  extreme  sonlhem  frontier  of  the  tribe  of 
Judah.     It  thus  appears  tjiat  tho  name  of  ihiit  aiicienti 
town  has  been  preserved  vithout  tlie  slightest  alteration, 
and  that  the  situation  of  tho  modern  Adadah  corresponiLi 
exactly  with  the  position  of  the  Adadah  of  the  Itible.     As 
well  as  1  can  recollect,  QAsr-ul-Adadah  is  only  at  a.  short 
distance  from  Kr-Uaniall ;  but  I  am  quite  certain  that  we 
noticed  this  ruin  before  arriving  at  the  vast  caveni  ofj 
Er^ltaiuail. 

Whilst  traversing  throughout  its  vholc  extent  tho  plab 
I  have  mentioned  above,  and  where  Abou-Daouk  iras 
waiting  for  us,  we  have  Jallon  in  with  tho  sit^s  of  two 
other  ancient  stations.  The  first,  discovered  at  a  quarter 
past  one,  is  called  Khai'bct-Ksded  ;  and  tJio  second,  passed 
through  by  ten  minutes  after  two,  is  known  to  the 
Bedoiiins  under  tlie  name  of  Kharbet-Hezebeh.  I  ain 
qnite  unable  to  identify  thcso  modern  namca  with  those 
of  any  ancient  cities  mentioned  in  passages  quoted  fiom 
either  the  sacred  or  profane  writings.  The  book  of^ 
Joshua  (xix.  3)  mentions,  amongst  the  cities  assigned  to 
the  tribe  of  Simeon,  and  detached  from  Uie  souihcm 
ten-itory  of  the  tribe  of  Judah,  a  place  called  Azem,  or 
Etsem  (smr).      Can  this  be  our  Hezebeh  t     I  loave 


1 

I 

I 
I 


4 


BirWR  Of  RtHJBBlTlrtN,   OK    KEBIOTH. 


523 


proof  of  this  identificAtion  to  more  cliinng  inquirers,  and 
content  myself  wkli  merely  jwinting  it  out  m  a  surmise. 

During  several  hours  we  manrh  along  the  vast  plain 
already  nauicd.     It  ia  closed  ia  at  the  horizon — that  ia 
to  say,  to  the  vrestward — by    a  range  of  mountains,  or 
rather  hills,  apparently  of  no  great  height,  and  crowned 
with  trees    or  thick  buahcs,  fonuiug  a  coppice,  looking 
exactly    like   a    close     plantation    of  underwood.      We 
reach  the  foot  of  thin  range  of  hilU  by  a  quarter  past 
four.      We    have   pa^cd    on  our  left,  at  a  distance  of 
about  two  or  three  thouMand  yards,  and  without   being 
able  to  visit  it,  a  rather  important-looking  mined  ntation, 
called  by  the  Arabs  Kl-Qeril«in,      Perhaps    under    tliis 
name  is  concealed  an    ancient    denomination    of   Kiria- 
thai'm.       But    the    only    KiriathaJfm   mentioned    in    the 
Scriptures  is  a  city  that  became  an  integral  portion  of 
the  Land  of  Hoab,  and  Uicrcforc  not  to  be  looked  for  at 
Rl-Qeritein.     We  Rnd  among»t  the  cities  in  the  portion 
of  land  made  over  to  the  tiibc  of  Judah,    one   called 
Kerioth-Hczron  ;  but,  notwithstanding  tlic  apparent  con- 
cordance as  to  situation,  we  must  question  the  prudence 
of  proposing  the  identification  between  the  two  places, 
ancient  and  modern.^     Judging  by  the  account  of  our 
Arabs,  the  ruins  situated  at  El-Qerite\'n  are  very  consider- 
able, and  denote  at  this  point  the  former  existence  of  au 
iinporUuit  town. 

Leaving  El-Qoritoin  to  our  left,  wo  reach  the  bottom  of 
a  lovely  little  valley,  irrigated  by  a  rivulet  which  seema  to 
flow  at  all   seasons  permanently,   instead  of  being  acci- 


*  n'hy  lo  i  The  diffcroDcs  or  pronuuciatiau  ii  not  w  gnat  bctWHin  KorioUl 
Mid  t't'lbriteiD ;  aiii)  thir  aiuilug;  txKoniea  «(4ll  t;<^>*tor  irhi^u  m  tpiuidT  Uint 
tho  Mmuiiatioii  •-<dii,"  otiea  indioatoa  th*  pluni;  tliiu.  El-Karitain  might  be 
ImoaUM  "Ui«  citiua  uf  Ksrit,"— (NurK  vv  thk  TnANU^tOB-t 


6t4 


CATB8  or  lM£irBBIL — CBLTIC  TULHBK. 


ilciitaliy  formed  by  tlic  periodical  rains.     The  bod  of 
rutiiiiiig  sti-caiQ.  besides  being  rallicr  bollon-,  is  plaiited 
with  trees.     The  rivulet  winJH  round  a  vast  rocky  cBil. 
ou  the  sides  of  vrhich  are  excavated  several  grottoes,  nui 
presenting  over  it«  entire  sur&ce  evident  signs  of  audeni 
habitations  ;  this  place  is  called  Djenbeb.     Aveunes  of 
stones  fixed  on  end,  similar  to  those  we  have  observed  in 
Moab,  give  access  to  this  level,  coming  down  from  lie 
neighbouring  hills,  upon  which  arc  descried  also  numeroua 
vcBtJgcci  of  buildings  of  a  vorjr  remote  antiiiuity,  judging 
by  the  rudeness  of  their  construction.     On  the  summit  of 
the  hillock  of  Djeubch  is  a  kind  of  enclosure,  formed  by 
a  wall  of  rocks,  from  one  to  two  yards  and  upwards  in 
height.     Some  of  these  rocks,  detached  from   the  mass, 
are    dit^itosed    almost  after   the   fashion    of   a  Celtic  or 
Druidical  Toimen,  a  iact  which  excited  our  intense  suiprise. 
The  ground  is  strewed    with    fragments  of   red    fluted 
pottery,    of    a    very    antique   chamctcr.      The   caves  of 
Djenbeh  are  used  at  tlio  present  day  as  stables  by  Uw 
wandering  tribes  who  visit  this  district ;  and  we  find  there, 
to  our  great  satisfoction,  two  or  three  Bcdouius,  with  a 
flock  of  dieop.     Here  is  a  piece  of  good  fortune,  of  which 
wo  hasten  to  take  advantage. 

The  weatlicr  is  di-cadfully  cold  and  dump  ;  our  fir*t 
object  is  to  warm  ourselves,  and  whilst  onr  touts  are  being 
pitched,  and  our  Scheikhs  arc  making  their  own  arrange- 
ments for  themselves  and  followera,  men  an<l  lioi'ses^  in  a 
cave  situated  nt  a  few  yarils  distance  to  Uie  loft  of  our 
encamjimcnt,  luy  thoughts  recur  to  the  surest  meians  of 
procuring  promptly  the  wood  necessary  for  our  kitchen 
and  for  tlie  bivouac  fiivs.  I  liuumion  iijuhaliiis  and 
Thuamcras,  and  promise  twenty  jiiastres  for  the  reipured 


« 


WCAMPMEKT  FOR  THE  NIOIIT. 


I 


supply.  Having  so  often  alluded  to  the  Ioto  of  piastres 
iiihcrcut  in  the  nature  of  Bedouins  in  general,  I  suppose 
I  need  scarcely  mention  the  ardour — I  ought  rather  to 
say  tlic  cntlmsiasra — with  wliicli  my  proposal  is  accepted. 
The  whole  band  scatters  like  a  covey  of  partridges ; 
blows  from  yataghans  resound  on  all  Hides,  and  in  less 
than  ten  minutes  we  liavo  twice  as  much  wood  as  wo 
rctjuirc  for  the  night.  It  is  true  the  wood  is  gi-cen.  and 
emits  more  smoke  than  fire ;  hut  nevertheless  it  will 
do  to  rurmt  oiu-  shocp  and  warm  ourselves  .1  little  ;  and 
campaigners  must  bo  satiufiod  without  the  luxuries  of  a 
palace. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


A  Kloooty  av««iiB9— OendudlnK  ■dtmMra  wiUi  BfJouiiuL— SiMppotutad  i 

—Cut*  at  Aitulkni. — I>«fsr1ar(  nS  tli*  Djalitlina, — Hbiim  nf  Dj'ni-lt^ 
IStkkodiii  olSciiptim.  -Kaanaoim  ruling  Mid  wd—  of  atooa*. — Kuincof 
MaoD.  Cvnial.  mil  Zipli.—Arriral  nl  K<bniL— Ori^  utJ  noMla  a&tkinilf 
nr  HabriHi. — Tha  madam  nHa->,  KIKhalll. — Carknu  ntlie  oT  >atii[aitj',— 
Hklhul,  Bcih-nir,  nai  a«lor.— I^ln  v1  Stiaimm. — ArrinI  at  JnaMlm-— 
Wfllooiii*  iiDiML— RcMpiUlltv  of  Uio  PruuboHi  OmitwL — BoidaBW  M 
•IwiiMlcnL— AnoUioT  cspoditiou  trnngti. 

Our  eveuing  pns^es  less  gaily  than  usual;  we  are 
harassed,  cliilled,  and  out  nf  Iminour  with  a  weatlier  and 
iitinosjiliLTc  so  (Ufft-reiit  from  wliat  we  have  eujoyed  for 
twenty  clays  in  the  vranu  valley  of  the  Diad  Sea:  wc  lliiuk 
(if  nothing  so  much  as  getting  a  few  hoiurs'  rest  as  soon  as 
ixjssible :  and,  consequently,  wlicii  dinner,  cofiee,  and 
tehiboukti  are  despatched,  all  my  conipantons  ininiediatcly 
seek  their  cots ;  for  niysilf  I  jirococil  to  trace  in  Indiiin 
ink  the  small  jmrtion  of  the  plan  of  the  country  whi<:ti  I 
have  been  able  to  survey  in  the  murriing,  and  then  follow 
most  willingly  the  good  example  they  have  set  me,  I 
retire  to  sleep,  grtmililing  at  ttic  thought  of  my  unfinished 
map.  and  consoling  myself  with  having  so  far  conducted 
our  ex|>odition  to  a  succfssful  end. 

1  nmst  not  omit  to  mention  here  the  hist  of  our  Hedouin 
adventures,  which  occurred  soon  after  we  had  cleared  the  pass 
of  tlic  Souq-ct-Th&emeh.  Before  the  merciless  tiail  which 
so  severely  assaulted  iis,  the  rain  ha<l  only  fallen  at  intervals, 


coscmniNn  advrsture  with  BRnouiss. 


527 


and  without  any  otiier  inconvenience  than  tlint  of  destroy- 
ing my  note-l)ouk  if  I  continut'd  my  trnvellinfi  memoranda. 
We  were  then  passing  through  n  hilly  hmestone  tract. 
Since  our  departure  from  En-Nedjd,  Abou-Daouk  and 
flamdan  had  never  ceased  urging  us  to  hasten  on,  and 
keep  in  n  compact  mass,  witliout  yielding,  no  matter  for 
what  cause,  t(»  the  temptation  of  straggling  or  extending 
oar  line  of  march.  At  a  iiarticnlnr  moment,  we  saw  at 
the  suraiiiit  of  a  cliff,  by  the  foot  of  which  we  wci-e  to  pass, 
a  Ikdouin,  in  a  crouching  position,  with  his  head  resting 
upon  his  hand*,  and  his  elbows  u[>on  his  knees.  He  was 
as  immoveable  as  a  statue,  and  wc  passed  close  to  him, 
^vithout  his  seeming  to  take  the  slightest  notice  of  us. 

No  sooner  were  we  well  engaged  in  tlie  difllicult  pass 
Ireyond  the  hill,  where  the  fello»v  was  certainly  on  the  look- 
out, than  he  disappeared ;  aud  in  a  few  minutes  after  we 
saw  thirty  trncnlcntdonking  figures  issuing  at  the  same 
time  from  all  the  neiglibouring  rapines,  and  marching 
towards  us,  carbine  lu  liund.  Aliou-Daouk  sprang  for- 
ward to  meet  them,  and  addressed  them  in  the  following 
tenna,  which  I  repeat  literally,  without  changing  & 
syllable  :• — "  Ya  nas,  fih  lehm  takaloidiou,  ovielakin  till 
lehni  niu  takalouhonch  ubadan."  ("  I  say,  you  men,  thero 
is  meat  for  your  teeth,  but  thei'e  is  also  meat  that  will 
never  do  for  your  teetli.")  This  pitliy  address,  or  rather 
the  dreaded  voice  of  the  illustrious  Abou-Daouk,  produced 
a  magic-nl  effect.  The  thieves,  who  had  ho[H!d  to  plunder 
U8,  deemed  it  prudent  to  restrain  their  amiable  aspirations; 
and  after  lavishing  on  the  Scheikh  of  the  Djalialins  every 
imirk  of  respect,  they  wlietli'd  off,  without  the  slightest 
mark  of  hesitation,  down  an  inclined  plane  leading  to  the 
liottoui  of  a  frowning  valley,  where  we  descried  some  tents. 


tt8 


DISAPTOINTKO    TH1EVK8. 


looking  like  black  specks  upon  a  pinte  of  chalk.  Th* 
attempt  had  foiled :  there  was  no  jilaying  tricks  upon  the 
high  and  mighty  potentate  who  had  done  tlKse  bandits 
the  honour  of  addrcstiing  tliciu. 

Tlicy  did  not  take  tlicir  departure,  however,  without 
cnrryiiig  with  them  a  slight  memento  of  our  passage.  One 
of  our  nioukris  having  lingered  behind  the  caravo]!  for  a 
few  momenta  on  the  mad,  was  accosted  by  these  hospi- 
table stnuigei's,  who  invited  liiin  to  divide  with  thein  even 
uticle  of  pcrsomd  wartlrobc  lie  carried  upon  hiH  hack — n 
cluuracteristic  specimen  of  the  fraternity  of  the  dewrt, 
tittle  to  the  taste  of  the  poor  nioukri,  who  rcjoiitod 
his  companion!^  in  haste,  but  equally  ashamed  and 
diiicontcnte<l. 

The  Arabs,  who  had  for  a  moment  ontertained  the  hope 
of  taking  us  by  sinrjirise.  belonged  to  a  tribe  bearing  the 
name  of  Adulhim.  a  very  unti(pic  app«>llation,  which  wr  6nd 
mentioned  in  the  Ilihle,  precisely  under  the  same  form 
(oVir).  Adullom  was  a  city  of  the  tribe  of  .ludali,*  situ- 
ated in  the  plain.  1'hat  the  Arabs  wc  have  met  derive 
their  name  from  the  Scriptural  city  seems  unquestionable; 
hut  at  the  particular  spot  where  we  fell  in  with  them,  wc 
were  in  the  centre  of  the  hilly  ixrgion  of  the  territory 
of  Judah.  and  certainly  the  Adullam  of  the  Bible  could 
not  have  been  situated  there.  Let  us  not  forget,  besides, 
that  these  arc  wandering  tribes,  carrying  their  name  from 
phice  to  j)lRce  over  large  tracts  of  ground.  Eusebius  tells 
U6  that  AdtiUam  was  a  lar^;  hartdet,  t(.-n  miles  distant  Irom 
Kieutheropolis,  towimls  the  eait.  -losephus  speaks  twice  of 
AduUum.  The  first  tinie,+  on  the  occasion  of  David's  taking 
refuge,  when  flying  from  Ojitta,  in  the  cavern  sitiutted  near 


■  J««lllM,  XT.  Hfi. 


t  Aat.  Jud.  ti  xu.  a. 


ADUUAM    OP   SCRIPTWRB. 


S2» 


I 

I 

I 


the  town  of  Ad(dlam,  belonging  to  the  tribe  of  Judnh  {ir/xx 
A5i>iiXA<if(i)  -iruAct).  The  secontt  time,*  when  enumerating 
the  fortified  cities  that  were  first  constructed  by  Kcho- 
boaiii,  son  of  Sf>I»iuon,  in  the  territory  of  the  triljc  of 
Jiidah.     The  name  oi  Adullara  is  written  ia  this  passage 

We  have  seuii  that  Euscbius  placcH  that  locality  at  a 
distance  of  ten  miles  from  Elcntheropolis,  in  an  easterly 
direction.  St.  Jerome  states  the  distance  to  be  twelve 
miles.  Keland  observes,  vritli  sound  reasoning,  that  the 
town  mentioned  by  Joshua,  amongst  tlie  cities  of  the  tribe 
of  Judab,  situated  in  the  plain,  cannot  [wtisibly  be  identi- 
fied with  that  which  KuHcliiu8  )>larcs  ciiMtward,  and  at  n 
distance  of  ten  miles  from  Eleutlun-upuliii,  because  tlie  point 
thus  exphcitly  hiid  down  happens  to  be  necessarily  in  tlio 
mountains,  and  not  in  thu  plain  of  Judah.  Have  there 
been  two  distinct  localities,  escb  called  Adullam  ?  This 
seems  to  be  the  most  obvious  conclusion.  If  so,  it  would 
be  most  singular  if  one  of  the  two  had  existed  somewhere 
about  llic  8|KJt  wlicre  we  encoinilercd  the  jVrabs  of  the 
of  Adulhim,  and  if  the  extensive  cave  of  Gr-Kamail 
Id  happen  to  be  the  very  cave  where  David  took 
;e,  and  fR)ni  wliich  lie  proi'^cded  towards  the  King  of 
Moab,  to  seek  an  asylum  for  hi.<«  family.  Itnt  these  are 
mere  surmises,  the  (X)rrectucss  of  which  cannot  be  demon- 
Btrated,  and  wliich  may  in  reality  be  very  dimtant  from  tbe 
trath.t 

•  AntJud.  TltLz.1. 

"t  Th»  fin*  niAp  of  Zunmenniuin  \tijt  down  at  th«  Torj  ipot  wk<r>  *•  inM  Ilia 

.aMMi>^'^'»-    Th«ruciui  l>«  no  itoubt  thaft  thla  U  inteadnl  to 

t'AlA*^'  whuiii  wn  liHil  till)  ptiMuura  of  cmiulUj  oncaiin luring  a  fuw 

'  diaiM  ipecimona.     Bat  which  u  the  correcC  ortho^TiipliJ  of  thvir  muna  ?    ITntii 

Bion-  Mupla  iaf«Hniitiuit  i*  pnwuFtd,  I  inutt  Uli*  lli«  libtrtj  ol  mntutklalug  tfail 

whJuh  I  lia*i>  ili^ttucod  from  my  roQvaiwtions  on  th«  tpot  with  the  DjahnJIua, 

wboas  tatritoi;  u  contigniMU  to  tlwt  tJ  tbr  Adulljuni. 

VOL.  1.  II  11 


S3U 


TUB  DJAIULIKS   DIBUIsaKD. 


JammarfUa. 

This  roMTiing  when  we  nae  the  sky  is  only  tUn-atening. ' 
The  cl(fuds  are  scattered,  and  a  ]»ale  coM  sun,  like  the  srin 
of  the  end  of  October  in  France,  appears  al  inttTvals  to 
throw  a  half-chevrful  gleam  upon  the  surrounding  face  of 
nature.     Let  us,  then,  hope  tliat  the  day  will  at  least  be 
toleraljlc,  and  that  we  may  arrive  early  at  Hebron,  without      | 
being  thoroughly   drenched  by  rain.      I   am  the  more 
anxious  that  it  may  prove  bo,  as  1  have  already  bitterly ^| 
reproached  myself  for  my  apatliy  of  ycstenUy,  though  S^m 
feel  tlml  1  was  not  without  excuse.     I  have  determined  to 
resume  my  topographical  survey  of  the  country  we  ace 
travelling  through ;  and,  with  the  help  of  Pnjvidence,  I 
will  complete  my  work,  by  uniting,  as  well  as  I  am  able, 
to  the  remainder  of  my  map,  the  couutiy  ioterveniug 
between  this  place  and  Jerusalem. 

We  are  now  in  the  centre  of  the  country  of  the 
Djahalius ;  we  thentfore  no  longer  require  the  escort  ofj 
the  faithful  tribe,  who,  after  the  fatigues  they  have  endurtd 
for  so  uiany  da^s,  have  now  but  one  predouiinant  wish, 
that  of  returning  to  their  tents  as  soon  as  {Ms^ible.  They 
ask  permission  to  take  leave  of  us  this  moraing.  Their 
Scheikh,  though  he  feels,  for  reasons  of  his  own,  but  a 
slight  inclination  to  accompany  wi  ttr  Jerusalem,  lias  deter- 
mined to  travel  with  us  so  far ;  as  much,  I  am  presump- 
tuous enough  to  think,  through  |>ersona]  n^an)  for  me,  as 
because  he  is  aware  our  purses  are  empty,  and  that  we 
cannot  give  him  the  bakhshish  to  which  be  is  entitled  until 
we  have  paid  a  visit  to  our  banker. 

The  question  is  how  to  distribute  the  pay  so  lawfully 
earned  by  our  Djahalins,  and  we  arrange  this  importaul 
matter  hchm  striking  our  camp.     Each  receives  the  fall 


THE   KUINS  OF   DJBNBBH. 


b»l 


nuDilicr  of  piastn^s  to  vliich  be  ia  entitled,  and  in  addition 
'  a  new  kiifiuli,  with  a  8U|i]tly  of  powder  mid  bull.  Our 
,  miuuSceuce  excites  the  warm  gratitude  of  these  poor 
I  people,  who,  after  Imvini,'  affectionately  kissed  our  liiuids 
I  all  round,  liasten  away,  carrying  on  their  expressive  faces 
I  marks  of  regret  at  paiting  with  us,  almost  equal  to  their 
I  joy  at  revisiting  their  o\vn  homes. 

I  Before  dismissing  them  I  explored  the  elc\'ated  piatform 
of  Djenbeh,  and  took,  as  rapidly  as  |)ossil»le,  a  snrvcy  of 
this  interesting  spot.     At  last  everything  is  ready,  the 

I  touts  packed,  and  our  luggage  loaded  on  our  mules  and 
horses.  We  have  taken  our  usually  abstemious  morning's 
meal ;  and  by  thirteen  uiiuutea  past  eight  <!Oiiiinciice  our 

I  march,  in  the  hope  of  arriving  in  a  very  few  hours  at  Hebron. 
As  I  had  intended,  I  resumed  at  startiug  my  topogra- 
phical task  of  the  pre{;eding  days.     TIic  weather  is  cold 
and  disagreeable,  but  it  has  not  yet  begun  to  rain  ;  and  I 
Kcnn  go  on  with  my  work,  from  the  moment  of  our  departtire 
'from  the  encamping  ground  of  Djenbeh.     We  proceeil  in 
a  due  nortlierly  direction  along  the  foot  of  the  bill,  on  the 
I  top  of  which  the:  town  of  Djenbeh  *  formerly  sttwd.     As  we 
■  Kiacli  the  northern  point  of  this  hill  we  descry,  on  the  right 
and  left  banks  of  tlie  suuiU  ravine  we  arc  following,  and  at 
,thu  bottom  of  which  is  a  running  stream,  some  ruins  and 
[eeveral  caves,  evidently  excavated  in  the  rock  by  himiaji 
ids.     A  toleralily  large  defile  then  opens  before  us,  run- 
Ining  in  a  northerly  direction,  and  ascending  ra|iidly.     We 
enter  this  pass,  in  which  tlie  stream  takcR  rise  that  winds 
ground  the  base  of  the  hill  of  Djenbeh,  and  find  it  uitcr- 

*  'fbt  book  of  Joahoa  (xv.  SS)  mcatlons  >  toiro  o(  Jiiilnh,  iiituittoil  on  tba 
ImAUDtain.  and  bMriiix  tl'«  iiniiin  of  Jouum  (QV).  Tliin  i>  tlie  ontjr  lucaD  bRvluK 
[Boma  uuJogT,  though  >  verj  dutonl  miii.  1  confcu,  wilb  tbo  laodern  uum«  of 
ISijtnbab,  •otiwllj  t^oniB  bj  u  iniwi  of  ruimi  most  Qvrtaiiiljr  eontcmponuiooiu  wltb 
rtlw  Biblical  tiiDM. 

Mug 


582 


TIIK    BIBLICAL    UAKKErtAll. 


ccpted.  Ht  rijtlit  iinglcs,  by  six  or  seven  ancient  n'aUs  of  the 
roughest  comtnictio)).  Ou  the  left  llnuk  of  tliia  de61e,  the 
ascent  of  which  is  nther  difficult,  appear  some  scattered 
ruius.  Towards  tbo  summit,  a  long  und  ancient  wall 
burdeni  thv  right  of  our  path,  on  the  ttaiik  of  the  hill  on 
tlie  same  side. 

Iteaching  the  top  of  the  ascent,  by  thirty-three  miDUtes 
past  eight  we  plunge  into  another  detUe,  commanded  on 
tlie  left  by  a  hill  of  no  great  height,  and  having  on  tlie 
right  »  breadth  which  docs  not  exceed  at  furst  scvcaty-five 
yards,  and  narrows  very  rajiidly  until  it  Iwtonios  contracted 
to  twcnty-Hvc  yards.  From  this  spot  a  steep,  almost  per- 
pendicuhur,  commences,  dipping  domi  into  a  very  deep 
valley,  called  the  Ouad-cl-M«rked,  at  the  bottom  of  which 
we  descry  ssome  well-cnltivated  fields.  In  this  valley  there 
are  ruins  called  Khnrbet-el-Merked,  xituiitcil  exactly  at  the 
foot  of  the  cliff,  but  we  are  unable  to  distingmsh  them. 
These  ruins  bear  nearly  due  east  from  Djenbeh. 

I  can  discover  in  the  Bible  but  a  single  place  whose 
name  presents  any  analogy  to  that  of  El-Merked  ;  this  is 
Makkedah,  a  city  of  the  tribe  of  Judah,*  cnumcnted 
amongst  the  cities  of  the  plain.  This  city  was  conquered 
by  Jotuhua  [x.  28),  who  put  all  the  iuhubitants  to  the  sword. 
Eusebius,  at  the  word  Moiniaa,  and  St.  Jerome,  both  tell  us 
that  thi!)  city  was  eight  mileti  distant  from  Elcuthcropolis, 
to  the  eastward  of  that  [ihioe,  which  must  have  been  iu  ibc 
close  iieighliourhood  of  the  modem  IJcit-Djibriii,  if  not  on 
the  very  site  of  Beit-Djibriu  itself.  Joseplius,  when  relating 
the  exploits  of  Joshua,  calls  this  same  town  MuKKirna.t  I 
am  much  inclined  to  believe  that  oui  El-Merked  is  identical 
with  the  Makkedah  of  the  Bihte. 


'  Joiihua,  IT.  41, 


+  Ant  Jml  t.  i  IT. 


TWORMf 


HmN3— 8T0NB   AVBNDES, 


&33 


I 


By  thirty.five  iniutitts  past  eight  wc  enter  a  ravine, 
running  northward,  the  bottom  o(  which  wo  soon  I(«vc,  to 
marcli  along  the  flank  of  the  hill  on  the  left-hand  side.  By 
forty  miimtcrs  piul  cright  wc  niareh  north<wcst,  at  a  height 
of  about  fivc-aiid-thirty  yards  above  the  bed  of  the  ravine ; 
whilst  wc  arc  stiU,  as  the  crow  flies,  two  hundred  yards 
below  the  snmmit  of  the  hill  cumiiiitndiiig  the  ravine  on 
th(;  right.  By  fifty-one  minutes  past  eiglit  our  road  turns 
north-north-wftst,  tlioii  ininUMliutdy  wcat  again,  upon  a  flat 
tJircc  hundred  yards  wide,  enclosed  between  two  lijies  of 
rather  elevated  hills.  Hy  exactly  nine  o'clock  wc  arc 
marching  north-west,  and  are  in  front  of  hnge  ruins  that 
cover  the  western  face  of  the  hilt,  on  the  left  hand,  which 
wc  have  been  winding  along  for  the  lost  ten  minutes. 
TImjsc  niins  consist  of  long  rows  of  primitive  walls,  crossing 
each  other  at  right  angles,  and  more  than  five  hundred 
yards  in  length.  Restixig  upon,  and  adjoining  one  of  these 
walls,  is  a  vafit  quadrangului-  enclosure.  Beyond,  a  small 
plain,  five  hundRd  yard.s  in  extent,  i.s  strewed  with  ruins, 
and  apjirouchcd  by  several  wide  avenues  of  stones,  placed 
upright,  exactly  similar  to  the  king's  highways  we  so  often 
cncoitntenrd  in  the  Land  of  Moab. 

Tiiese  ruins,  which  it  would  be  very  desirable  to  examine 
with  care  and  at  full  k-i»urc,  ore  called  by  the  name  of 
Kharbet-Onim-el-Arnys  (the  Ruins  of  the  Bride's  Mother), 
liy  twelve  minutes  past  nine  they  are  still  lying  along  the 
line  of  our  march,  and  wc  pa.')«  by  a  double  avenue  of  stones, 
in  excellent  preservation,  for  above  thirty  yards.  Then  ■ 
siugk;  aveimc,  turning  to  the  north-west,  through  a  small 
glen,  thirty  yards  wide,  leads  up  to  a  cu'cnlar  euclosuro, 
ronstructcd  with  very  large  stones,  and  crowning  the 
summit  of  a  high  cliff,  which  wc  leave  on  our  Icfl.     By 


u 


I 


IKTENSB  COLD   AND   BAIH. 

ic  iniuutcs  ]iast  nine  wc  ate  marcliing  nearly  (loe 
north,  for  some  time  past  large  drops  of  aii  icy  CH>Id  rain 
h»v(;  annoyed  us  at  intervals,  but  soou  tho  clouds,  violently 
impelled  by  the  westerly  wind,  gather  over  our  beads ; 
tltcn  they  burst  suddenly,  anil  wc  arc  half  drowned  in  one 
or  those  Syrian  squalls,  of  which  no  one  can  form  an 
adequate  idea  unless  Itu  has  been  personalty  exposed  to 
Uiom.  I  am  again  com[>cUed,  sorely  against  my  will,  to 
give  up  my  t*)pogra|)lii(:al  8ur>'»;y,  and  replace  iu  my  pocket, 
ith  a  sigh,  my  com[>ass  and  memorandum-book,  making 
up  my  mind,  though  with  a  luravy  heart,  to  trust  to  memory 
for  pa'scr\ing  the  names  of  the  important  localities  I  may 

Ibufipon  to  pass  through,  as  well  as  tliecxact  time  when  they 
cross  our  route. 
Before  long  I  am  mentally  absolved  for  my  forced  lazi- 
ness during  the  mnaindor  of  this  day's  march.  The  rain 
has  become  so  violent,  so  incessant,  and  so  intensely  cold, 
that  the  exposure  to  its  fm-y  is  a  positive  torture.  Wrap- 
ping oursclvci  in  our  caoutchouc  cloaks  is  a  useless  defence ; 
iu  a  few  minutes  we  are  soaked  through  to  our  very  boacs. 
M^'ith  difficulty  we  retaiu  a  grasp  of  our  bridles ;  the  cold 
Ims  almost  deprived  us  of  the  use  of  om  hands  and  feet. 
I  give  up  the  senseless  ill-temper  with  which  for  houR  I 
d  exclaimed  against  tltc  weather ;  it  rains  not  one  drop 
the  less  because  I  am  eXB3|)erated  ;  neither  do  my  objur- 
gations diminish  my  shivering.  liut  let  me  do  myself 
justice,  nevertheless.  The  cold  rain  and  blasts  annoyed 
mc  less  throughout  this  bitter  day  than  the  irrevocable  loss 
of  notes,  in  the  midst  of  a  country  strewed  round  in  all 
directions  with  the  ruins  of  places  celebrated  in  Holy  Writ, 
and  of  which  I  only  obtained  a  casual  glance  as  we  passed 
hurriedly  along.     From  tlrnt  niomenl  1  resolved  to  retrace 


BITINS   OF   THE   BlBLlCAt  MAOK. 


535 


I 
I 


my  steps  once  again  over  this  ground,  and  to  undertake, 
as  Goun  fu)  tilt!  n'catlicr  would  permit  inc,  an  invcfltigaticm 
of  the  entire  Land  of  Cnnaan,  This  resohition  once  taken, 
my  re^^rtit  became  more  tolerable ;  and  then  only  I  licigan 
to  rail  in  real  earnest  agffiust  the  cold  and  rain  for  the 
exclusive  evils  they  contained  in  themselves. 

Although  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  return,  I  did  not 
neglect  asking  the  names  of  all  the  ruins  1  cncouutered  on 
the  road ;  aud  in  this  manner  I  collected  the  following 
notes,  the  value  of  wliicii  !  fully  appreciate  now.  having 

m  eoiiipclled  to  give  up  my  intended  plan  of  exploring 
in  detail,  and  at  full  leisure,  this  interesting  coimtry.  I 
had  been  forced  to  abandon  my  survey  at  twenty-one 
utes  past  nine.  By  forty-eiglit  minutes  past  nine  we 
^passed,  distant  about  a  hundred  yards  on  our  right,  a  hill 
cntir«:ly  covered  witli  ruins ;  this  hill  and  these  ruins  are 
called  the  Djebcl  and  the  Kharbet-Mnyn. 

Wc  find  in  Joshua  (xv.  55),  amongst  the  cities  of  the 
hilly  region  of  .ludah,  Maon,  Carmel,  Ziph,  and  Juttn. 
The  Maon  (pjit;)  incntioned  in  this  verse  is  certainly  no 
other  place  than  the  Kharbet-Mayn,  in  front  of  which  we 
liave  just  passed.  From  the  tenor  of  tliis  verse  it  appears 
that  Maon  was  in  the  vicinity  of  Carmel  and  Ziph.  aud  we 
sliall  soon  see  that  this  statement  is  quite  correct.  In  the 
f\rst  book  of  Samuel  (xxiii.  24  and  25),  it  is  wTitten: 
"  And  tlicy  arose  and  went  to  Ziph  before  Saul ;  but 
Pavid  and  his  men  were  in  the  wilderness  of  Maon,  in 
the  plain  on  the  sontli  of  Jcstiinion."  "  25.  Saul  also 
and  his  men  went  to  seek  him,  and  they  told  David : 
wherefore  he  came  down  into  a  rock,  and  abode  in  the 
wilderness  of  Maon.  And  when  Saul  heard  that,  he 
.pursued  after  David  in  the  wilderness  of  Maon  "     Further 


&S6 


TUB   B1DUCAL   HAON. 


on  vre  read  again  (xxt.  2) :  "  Anil  tliere  was  n  man  in 
Moon  whoed  pusscssionti  were  in  Camiel :  aiic]  Lbo  man 
wufi  very  great,  and  lie  had  Uirra  thousand  sheep  and  a 
thousand  gimls;  an*!  liu  was  sbi^aring  hi^  »liw(>  in  Carmd." 
These  verses  taken  together  ten*  to  prove  again,  not  cmljr 
that  Maon  and  Carmel  were  in  the  vicinity  of  each  otlier, 
but  also  that  lh«  countr)-  in  which  Moon  was  situated  was 
a  wilderness.  Certainly  this  country  has  not  improved 
8tnee ;  it  is  still  an  actual  desurt,  the  aHjicrct  of  whicli  must 
be  most  melancholy,  e>'en  in  fine  weatlier ;  tlie  reader  way 
judgo  how  it  appcan^d  to  me  under  a  cold,  dieiicliing  rain. 
Anotbcr  word  concerning  Maon  :  Kusebius  says  that  tbia 
city  was  situated  in  the  eastern  piul  uf  the  Daronia;  and 
it  is  essential  to  remember  that  this  was  the  name  given 
to  the  suutheni  part  of  tiie  tcrritor)'  of  Judnh. 

By  ten  o'clock  we  find  ourselves  in  firont  of  a  mound 
covered  with  ruius,  distant  about  a  hundretl  yanU  to  the  ' 
right  of  tiur  road.  These  niins  arc  called  Kharbct-Onuu- 
el-Aaniid  (the  Huins  of  the  Mother  of  Columns).  It  is 
pctfcefly  evident  that  this  denomination,  entirely  modem. 
can  be  of  no  aid  to  us  in  the  endeavour  lo  asoertaia  the 
original  name  of  this  locality. 

By  fifty  minutes  post  ten  we  are  close  to  other  consider- 
able remains,  the  nanie  of  which  is  unknown  to  the  Aniba 
accompanying  mo ;  and  at  last,  by  euictly  eleven  o'clock, 
we  pass  directly  through  the  ceutre  of  the  ruins  of  Carm^. 
A  square  building  of  tbc  middle  ages  commands  from  it£ 
exceeding  height  the  vaiit  space  occupied  by  this  ancient 
city.  At  the  foot  of  this  citadel,  the  construction  of  which 
dates  most  likely  from  the  p<;riod  of  the  Crusades,  are 
lying  sevcnil  fine  broken  shafts  of  coluunis,  and  a  capital, 
which  luu  been  used  to  ornament  the  ludc-post  of  a  guk<. 


I 
I 


tLUlVS  OF   CARMRL. 


B8T 


A  uiagTiif^cent  cisteni  is  excavated  in  the  rock,  at  a  level  a 
little  lower  than  that  of  the  tlut  hill  upou  which  the  castle 
staiida.  Streets  extend  to  a  considerable  distJince,  hiiving 
on  both  sides  contiguous  ruiua  of  houses  of  a  very  remote 
antiquity.  A  detailed  (ixaiuination  of  this  place  could  not 
lail  to  produce  results  of  the  highest  importance.  What  I 
saw  of  it  was,  unforttinatety,  a  hasty  glance,  while  seeking 
refuj^  behind  tlie  castle  for  a  few  minutes  to  shelter 
myself  from  the  ince^ssant  rain  by  which  we  had  been 
pelted  without  mercy  for  nearly  two  hours  i  and  even  in 
doing  this  I  had  taken  good  core  not  to  alight  from  my 
horse,  for  had  I  done  so  X  should  never  have  been  able  to 
mount  again. 

Carmel.  as  we  have  already  stated,  is  mentioned  amongst 
the  cities  of  the  tribe  of  Judah,*  aa  being  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Maon.  The  present  ruins  of  Maon  and 
Carmel  ore  distant  from  each  other  little  more  than  the 
interviil  of  an  hour's  march ;  that  is  to  say,  about  a  league 
and  a  half,  or  two  leagues  at  the  utmotit  (between  four 
and  six  English  miles).  This  town  continued  to  maintaiQ 
its  importance  down  to  the  period  of  the  lUiman  dominion, 
and  even  to  a  late  date  under  that  empire ;  for  we  read  in 
the  "Notitia  Dignitatuiu  Imperii:"  igvUes  scutarii 
iUyriciani  Chemtnlfe.  ("The  Illyrian  cavalry,  with  tlie 
ahicld  armour,  were  garrisoned  in  ChermiUa,")  which  is 
unquestionably  identical  with  our  Carmel:  and,  accord- 
ingly, EuBcbius,  in  his  Onomasticon,  at  the  word  KAp(Uiiv>s, 
tcUs  us  that  a  Roman  garrison  was  stationed  at  that 
place. 

Leaving  Carmel,  wc  fall  in  again  with  enormous  avenues 
of  atones,  of  exactly  the  same  description  as  those  wc  saw 


*  JiMbua,  ST,  SS. 


BN0JtM0U8   AVKXDES  OF   BTONES. 


be  Lmiil  of  Moal>,  with  this  diflvivucc,  that  the  blocks 
^iplojed  are  no  longer  conipoiied  of  lava.  Tliesc  aveniKs 
ajipcar  ou  every  sicL;,  mtersvcliiig  the  grouiul  right  and 
left  of  the  road  we  are  fullowiiig,  which  is  here  a  welt- 
deilued  tract;  they  wind  along  the  tlanlcs  of  the  hilts,  and 
descend  into  valleys  planted  with  a  small  kind  of  ilex  or 
holm-oak.  All  around  may  be  seen  remains  and  fragments 
of  a  very  early  period.  F()r  instance,  an  hour  after  having 
left  Carmel,  we  ]«isa  through  the  niiua  of  a  city ;  but  wc 
have  neither  leisure  nor  courage  enough  to  examine  tbem. 
Only  one  object  attracts  our  attention  as  we  pass ;  a  n'cll, 
licwn  in  the  rock,  vnth  a  brim  and  trough,  both  cnt  out 
of  a  single  mass.  This  wtll  is  evidently  of  the  highest 
antiquity ;  but  I  lind  it  impossible  to  a.sccrtain  the  name 
of  the  totvn.  Every  man  in  the  caravan  moves  on.  thinking 
of  hiniBcIf  alone,  wnipjied  up  as  closely  as  possible  in 
wtiaterer  he  can  think  of.  to  screen  himself  from  the  cold 
and  rain.  It  is  quite  useless  to  addrx^ss  a  (]U(«tion  to  onr 
Arabs ;  they  cither  cannot  hear,  or  more  probably  they  do 
not  choose  to  listen,  for  fear  they  shauld  Ik;  obliged  to  give 
me  a  decided  answer.  Tbis  horrible  day  is  our  retreat 
from  Moscow,  and  has  entirely  routed  our  little  army. 

A  few  paces  further  on,  a  hillock  is  pointed  out  lo  me, 
distant  a  few  hundred  yards  to  the  right  of  our  road,  and 
covered  with  ruins.  This  is  Ziph,  whose  original  name 
(p*i)  has  not  undergone  the  slightest  alteration.  The  a5th 
verse  of  chapter  xv.  of  Jusluia,  as  the  reader  will  remember, 
only  contains  the  four  names,  Maon,  Carmel,  Ziph,  and 
Juttah.  Wc  might  suppose  that  these  places  would  have 
been  enumerated  in  this  verse  in  the  same  order  as  that  in 
whi<;li  they  arc  situated  in  the  land,  proceeding  from  south 
to  north.     But  in  that  case  Juttah  should  be  looked  for  to 


SUTNd  OF   ZIPTI. 


63» 


the  north  of  Ziph,  which  in  contrary  to  tlic  rchitivo  position 
of  both.  Zinimcrmaiin's  map  lays  down  towards  this 
point  a  single  place  callwl  Jiikin ;  and,  notwithstanding 
that  the  two  names  begin  with  same  syllabic,  it  would  be 
difficult  to  find  any  identity  between  the  bibiical  Juttah 
and  tlic  modem  Jiikin.  This  becomes  also  the  more 
difficult  when  wc  consider  that  Juttah  slill  txists  at  no  great 
distance  westward  of  Carmel,  but  very  far  fnmi  and  to  the 
sonth-south-wcst  of  Ziph. 

The  name  of  Zipli  in  applied  in  common  to  two  scriptural 
localities  of  the  tribe  of  Judah.  We  find*  at  the  southern 
extremity  of  the  territory  of  .hidah,  and  in  the  vicinity  of 
Adatiah  and  Kedesh,  a  place  called  Zi{)h,  which  evidently 
cannot  be  confoundi-d  with  the  one  situated  in  the  vicinity 
of  HebroH  aud  Carmel.  Euscbiua  telU  us  that  this  lost 
town  (of  the  name  of  Ziph)  was  eight  miles  distant  £rom 
Hebron,  in  tlic  Daroma ;  but  the  figures  »eem  to  me  to 
have  undergone  some  alteration,  and  I  beheve  the  number 
of  miles  to  be  cxaggerateJ.  .loscplmst  mentions  Ziph 
under  the  name  of  Xtjia  as  amongst  the  first  towns  which 
Uthoboara,  the;  son  of  Solomon,  ordered  to  be  fortified  in 
the  land  of  Judah.  Wc  read  in  the  same  book  another 
passage,  which  is  extremely  important.  {  It  tells  us  that 
David,  after  having  started  from  the  solitude  above  Kn- 
Gedi  (E»7«8a;i')  came  into  the  country  of  Ziph  (T^v  Sh/hSi-itj), 
to  a  place  Oltled  Ka-ne  {tli  rwa  t6tjov  Kau-ijv  KtAoviiivJjv).  I 
am  much  tempted  to  look  for  the  Ka-ne  of  Josephus  in  the 
niodiTu  Jukin,  situated  so  close  to  Ziph. 

The  country  of  Ziph  was  far  from  flourishing  at  the 
scriptural  period,  for  we  read  in  Samuel  (Hook  I.,  xsiii.) : 
14.  And  David  abode  in  the  wildeniess  in  strongholds, 


■  Joiba*,  X*.  31. 


t  Aat  Jni).  Tiii.  s.  I. 


t  AoL  Jud.  ti.  Ku.  S. 


9(0 


ARBITAIi   AT   HEnRON. 


and  remained  in  a  mountain  in  the  wilderness  of  Zijth. 
And  Sniil  sought  bim  every  day,  but  God  driivirn-d  hiin  not 
into  his  hand."  "  16.  And  David  saw  tliat  Saul  was  oome 
out  to  seek  his  life :  mid  David  was  in  tlie  wilderness  of 
Ziph,  in  a  wood  "  at  llarsah  (nanna).*  Lastly  (chap,  xxiil 
V.  19),  we  read  again  :  "  Thnii  came  up  the  Ziphitts  to  Said 
to  Gibcuh,  saving.  Doth  not  David  hide  himself  with  i\» 
in  strongholds  in  the  wood  (at  Ilnrsah),  io  the  hill  of 
Hachilah,  which  is  on  the  south  of  Jeshimon  ?  "  (or  of  the 
desert,  for  the  word  JoKhimon  has  ako  that  siguiflcation.) 

Beginning  from  the  spot  where  we  are  in  sight  of  the 
ruins  of  Ziph,  we  enter  a  ntountuinous,  green-looking,  well- 
wooded  coimtrv.  All  the  hill-sidcs  are  covered  with  holm, 
oaks.  Many  ruins  ap]»car  everywhere  along  t!ic  road,  and 
Iroui  time  to  time  we  spy  on  the  heights  some  Arabs 
watching  numerous  flocks  of  slu^  and  goat:^.  The 
weather  has  not  cleared,  but  quite  the  contrary.  The 
nearer  we  approach  Hebron,  the  rain  has  become  more 
diluvian.  At  last,  by  one  o'clock,  after  having  passed  in 
front  of  a  misurablc-lookiiig  building,  bearing  Itic  {Mmpous 
name  of  Lazaretto,  and  aho  an  immense  cistern  hewn  in 
the  rock,  between  a  vast  Mussulman  buryiog-grouud  and 
the  western  point  of  the  totvn,  we  enter  Hebron  by  a  small 
postcni,  giving  access  to  a  street,  iHinower,  dirtier,  worse 
paved,  and  more  winding  than  even  the  streets  of  Jenisatein  ; 
it  ia,  in  laet,  a  defomied  repetition  of  Naplons. 

Under  the  guidance  of  Mnttoo,  we  went  to  take  ap  our 
quarters  in  a  small,  cold,  damp  house,  but  tolerably  clean, 

*  t  ekn  bon)  «>  iibMrtstioD  t4  CoTkii'b  coaomiias  tbi*  ciuno ;— "  Aecowllag  lo 
come  people,  thi*  ii  th«  nuaa  of  n  plMn  lu  tlia  dsMrt  «f  Ziph  »t  BimtKa  s  bn^ 
•ccoididc  tc  the  Clt>1d«ui  vcmun,  thii  word  mooiu  ivraf.  in  tlie  doMrt  ot  Kipd, 
ia  (b /omt.*  or,  ■ouordiag  tu  ilw  KoKluii  nMived  vandon.  "  i«  •  nood.*  Ths 
abundiuit  lioliu  onlu  corcring  tlio  nitlM  uX  ttio  nUqri  tbMughout  tU*  tiMt  of 
oouBtij  trador  ibU  vaniiiu  ta\mmt\y  pnilMtik-. 


I 

I 


ORIQIN'    UF    ilEBKOK. 


541 


vhere  wc  heartily  oongratulatfiil  ourselves  on  our  airival. 
An  immense  braider,  full  of  burning  chorcoftt,  h  bfought 
to  us  iu  a  few  monieiits ;  we  hasteu  to  throw  off  tlic  flotliea 
which  the  rain  iuis  thoniughly  peuetrated,  and  occasioned 
to  adhere  to  our  bodies,  aud  dry  ourselves  as  c[uickly  as  wu 
can,  with  the  door  wide  ojieD  ;  a  necessary  precaution,  to 
avoid  being  suffocated  by  the  oficcts  of  the  chiu-iKial.  We 
take  «  hasty  breakfast,  dimkint?  much  cofft-e,  and  smoking 
many  chibouks,  and  in  about  an  hour  feel  ourselves  con- 
siderably refreshed.  It  was  high  time,  for  since  the 
morning  our  spirits  tiad  declined  lamentably  towards  the 
point  of  zero. 

As  it  is  iiiipotiniblR  to  Rtir  a  foot  out  of  doors,  ami  wc 
have  been  sufficiently  drenched  for  the  day.  we  give  up  all 
idea  of  cxHmiiiing  ilubrun  at  present,  the  niori;  willingly 
that  we  pui-jwse  rejieating  our  visit ;  another  instance,  as 
it  often  hup|H.'us,  in  proof  of  the  snpirior  wisdom  wc  should 
have  evinced  in  bearing  the  rain  a  few  minutes  longer,  iw 
as  to  obtain  at  least  a  general  idea  of  the  aspect  of  this 
city.  What  knowledge  I  could  obtain  amounts  to  little. 
Hebron  occupies  tlie  bottom  of  a  tolerably  wide  valley,  the 
sides  of  which  arc  planted  vrith  vineyards  and  fine  olive- 
treca.  To  the  eastward  the  towu  rises  a  little  on  tl»e  aide 
of  the  hill,  on  which  stands  the  mosque,  inaccessible  to  all 
but  Mussulnieii.  It  is  said  that  this  mosque  contains  the 
celebrated  vault  of  Machpelah,  in  which  were  interred  the 
bodies  of  Sarah,  and  the  patriarchs  Abraham,  Isaac,  and 
Jacob. 

Let  me  dwell  fijr  a  few  moments  oh  the  origin  of  Helwon ; 
a  town  fnM|nently  named  by  the  sacred  historians.  We  read 
in  Genesis  (xxiii.  i);  "And  Sarah  died  in  Kirjatli-arba ; 
the  saiue  is  Hebron,  in  the  land  of  Canaan ;  and  Abraham 


J 


512 


BBUOTB   &KTI4UITT   OF   UKBROK. 


came  to  mourn  for  Sarah,  and  to  weci)  for  Uer."  "  19.' 
And  ttftrr  this  Abniliam  buried  Sarah  his  wife,  in  the  cave 
of  the  field  of  Mach|)c]ab,  before  Mainre :  the  saniit  is 
Hebron,  in  the  land  of  C»naan."  "  20.  Atid  tite  6el<l,  and 
the  cave  tliat  is  therein,  were  luado  sure  unto  Abraham  for 
a  possession  of  a  burying-place  by  thcsons  of  Heth."  The 
plain  of  Mamre  is  mentioned  in  another  passage.*  "Then 
Abraham  removed  his  tent,  and  came  and  dwelt  in  the 
plain  of  Mamrc,  which  in  in  Hebron,  and  built  tliere  an 
altur  unto  the  Lord."  From  the  coucordanoe  of  these  two 
passages,  an  evident  conclusion  results,  that  the  plain  of 
Mamre  was  precisely  the  site  of  tlic  eastern  portion  of  the 
present  town  of  Hebron.  And,  lastly,  the  vale  of  Hebron 
is  mentioned  again  in  the  14th  verse  of  chapter  xxx.vii  of 
Genesis. 

The  anti(piity  of  the  city  of  Hebron  is  determined  by  a 
scri]>lural  passage :  f  "  Now  Hebron  was  built  seven  years 
before  Zoim,  in  Kygpt."  Zoan,  or  'l^saao,  is  nnqne&tionably 
the  same  as  Tanis ;  but  unfortmiately,  this  text  does  not 
state  when  Tunis  was  built.  Hebron  was  given  as  ao 
inheritance  to  Caleb,  son  of  Jephunneh.  J  The  Bililc  teUa 
us  also  that  Kirjath'Hrba,  which  is  Hebron,  on  the  moiui- 
tain,  was  chosen  for  one  of  the  cities  of  Refuge.  ^  And, 
lastly,  the  great  piscina,  or  pond,  which  wc  noticed  on  our 
Dntraiice  into  Hebron,  is  also  mentioned  in  the  Bible;  for 
we  read  :]|  "  And  David  commandeil  his  young  men,  and 
they  slew  them ;  and  cut  off  their  hands  and  their  feet,  and 
hanged  them  up  over  the  pool  in  Hebron.  But  th^'  took 
the  hciid  of  Ish-boshetli,  and  buried  it  in  the  scpulrbre  of 
Abner,  In  Hebron."     A  tish-pond,  like  the  piscina  which 


QwtMU.  xiii.  IB.  t  Numbon,  liil.  SS.  t  Jutbui^  tlr.  13,  11 

i  JMliUii.  u.  '.  13  SMonel,  it.  ti. 


EL-KHAUL,   THE   MODERN    IIRBRON. 


S4S 


^ 


exists  at  Hebron  in  the  present  day,  was  uuqucstionably 
there  at  a  very  remote  period. 

An  entire  chapter  might  be  written  on  the  history  of 
Hebron,  bringing  together  in  proper  order  all  the  faeta 
dis])er8ed  tlirough  tlie  Bilitc  and  in  the  sutured  and  profane 
writings;  but  as  swch  an  undertnking  would  exceed  the 
limit  I  have  proposed  for  tliis  work,  t  must  th(;n;fore  rest 
contented  with  referring  the  reader  to  tlie  original  sourcca; 
l)esideH  which,  Ileland  has  collected,  in  reference  to  the 
word  ChebroH.  the  greater  portion  of  the  passages  which 
might  be  niioted  here.  I  therefore  dispense  with  the 
repetition  of  a  sunimary  which  has  already  bwn  given  from 
a  liighcr  authority,  and  with  deejMjr  scientific  research  ttuin 
I  can  possibly  rlaiin  for  iiiyMcIf.  I  shall  merely  remark,  in 
conclusion,  that  Hebron  has  received  from  the  Mussulmcn 
tlie  name  of  !']1-K,halil  (the  friend  or  beloved  of  the  Lord), 
in  commeuioration  of  the  patriarch  Abraham,  who  bears 
especially  amongst  them  the  name  of  Hl-Klmlil. 

Towards  the  close  of  the  day  we  were  visited  by  a  high 
and  mighty  chieftain,  who  was  introduced  to  u»  by  the 
Scheikhs  Abou-Daonk  and  Hamdan.  lliis  is  no  less  a 
|ienionage  than  the  Scheikh  Abd-Allah,  who  exercises  a 
sovereignty  nearly  absolute  over  idl  the  Arabian  tribes 
dispersed  through  the  country  of  Hebron,  He  is  extremely 
polite  and  obliging  in  his  offers  of  service,  in  case  wc  shoidd 
be  disposed  to  return  to  Hebron,  and  to  establish  there 
our  head-quarters,  with  the  intention  of  exploring  the 
neighbouring  cmnitry.  We  accept  his  proffered  civilities 
with  deep  gratitude,  and  fully  intend  taking  advantage  of 
the  fav(turable  disposition  of  this  distingimhed  potentate. 

To-day  I  have  presented  to  our  excellent,  friend  llaradan 
a  tolerably  good  sword,  my  first-rate  double-barrelled  gun, 


M4 


PBEaEITTS  TO  TUB  ttCUBIKH    aAMOJUt. 


and  my  pocket>i 
fiiitlifiil  si:rvicv$. 


iStols,  in  token  of  my  gratitude  for  tas 
Till-  honest  Schcikh  caii  scarcely  restrain 
the  oTerwhelDiing  joy  which  over-powers  him,  and  has  i 
hard  struggle  to  maintain  the  cold  and  dignifiiil  boahng 
imperiously  commanded  by  Arab. decorum  under  all  or- 
cunistanrcfl,  whether  of  happinctts  or  misforttuie.  It  is 
perfectly  cvidviit  that  we  have  powerfully  stimulated  the 
pride  of  the  Scheikh  of  the  lliaamerus  by  placing  in  hb 
handft  these  fine  specimens  of  amis,  which  In-  will  sooo 
contrive  to  put  out  of  order,  but  which  nevertheless  wiB 
still  continne  to  excite  the  admiration  of  all  the  Bedouins 
he  may  ever  after  meet  with. 

Tlie  fatigue  of  the  day's  niarph  has  Imjctj  such  that  wc 
are  all  anxious  to  retire  to  rest.  Dinner  and  notes  ■jr 
soon  despatched,  and  then  every  man  stretches  himself 
upon  hia  cot,  with  the  joyful  reflection  that  to-morrow  we 
shall  once  more  rc<cnlcr  Jerusalem.  ^^^ 

Before  dinnw,  Jfatteo  brought  to  me  a  kind  of  mnau 
box  or  cheat  of  white  marble,  having  the  form  of  a  sarco- 
phagus, and  hearing  on  one  of  its  faces  a  double  cross, 
with  arms  of  equal  length.  This  kind  of  funeral  urn,  with 
throe  compartments,  is  the  property  of  our  host.  According 
to  his  iiroount,  it  was  disfiovcrcd  in  one  of  the  ntmwrous 
sepulchral  caves  excavated  on  tte  sides  of  the  hills  that 
surround  Hebron.  I  fee)  some  longing  to  purchase  the 
curious  relic,  but  I  suspect  the  possessor  is  Hkely  to  8«t  too 
h^h  a  value  upon  it.  judging  by  the  admiration  lie  loudly 
cxpreflftcs.  Jlowmcr,  after  some  negotiation,  carried  on  by 
Matteo,  I  succeed  in  purcliasing  the  urn  for  sixty  piastres, 
upon  whirh.  most  likely,  Matteo  has  levied  a  lawful  tithe, 
after  tlic  eslablishcti  custom  of  ever)'  dragoman  in  all 
bargains  concluded  for  his  employer. 


JACKAIA   SICIHT   INTKUUBK. 


B4$ 


.ftHMMry  ISA,  mV 

Wc  have  passed  an  excellent  night,  notwithstnnding  (be 
incessant  howling  of  the  jackals,  who  seem  to  l)c  qnit« 
■  domesticateH  in  the  streets  of  Hebron.  Wi!  hiive  slept 
like  so  many  logs  of  wood,  and  still  I  have  some  recol- 
lection that  I  hcurd  the  door  of  our  room,  which  op(;ns  by 
merely  touching  it  with  yoiir  finger,  creaking  upon  ita 
hinges.  Who  mn  Imvc  bi;uii  our  nortumal  visitor?  I 
cannot  guess,  and  at  first  nni  not  much  incliiicil  to  inquire  ; 
nothing  has  disappeared,  nil  is  in  its  right  pkce :  hut, 
nbomiiwtiun  of  the  wilderness !  the  reader  may  rcmemher 
^t  Papigny  litid  killed  n  pretty  humniin^-hird  in  the 
Rhor-Safieh,  and  that  I  had  appropriated  to  myself  the 
feathery  remains  of  (In:  poor  little  creature.  In  addition 
to  this,  between  Er-Ramail  and  Djenbeh,  llelly  had  shot 
another  beautiful  bird,  soinetliing  like  a  partridge,  but 
yellow  in  colour,  and  witli  a  brown  rim  round  the  neck. 
The  remains  of  both  were  reserved  for  the  scalpel  of  the 
naturalist,  and  Belly  intejided  to  dissect  tlicm  with  great 
care  as  soon  as  wc  should  arrive  at  Jerusalem.  And  now 
a  wretched  cat,  even  a  greater  admu-er  of  birds  than  our- 
selves, has  stolen  in  secretly,  and  feastc;d  upon  both  our 
treasures,  thus  snvnig  our  friend  the  pleasure  ho  had  anti- 
cipated. Thifi  was  the  intnider  I  heard  prowling  about 
our  room,  like  a  thief  in  the  night ;  and  of  our  two  highly- 
valued  aeipiircments,  he  has  left  u»  nothing  but  n  few 
feathers,  and  some  odd  fragments  of  legs,  as  melancholy 
rL'^unia(X^ncc8.  I  writhe  with  vexation  on  discovering  this 
mysterious  inirpiity ;  I  abuse  evc;rybody,  be  they  never  ao 
innocent,  an{l  vow  deadly  vengeance  on  the  perpetrator, 
if  chance  will  only  throw  him  in  my  way.  Rut,  after  n 
.little   reflection,   I    consider  that   %vcre   I   to  rave   uiitiT 


ut 


DBPARTURE   FROH    UGBRON. 


to-njorrow.  it  would  not  bring  l»aclc  either  a  leg  or  a  feather 
of  the  two  hwt  binU ;  1  therefore  adopt  the  wiser  course 
of  restrnining  my  useless  anger,  nud  if  1  indulge  in  it,  1  do 
so  inlernully  uiid  vvtthi)ut  duspla)'. 

We  have  neither  time  nor  inclination  to  tarry  long  in 
Hebron  ;  on  the  contrar)-,  wc  are  most  impatient  to  return 
to  .lenisalem.  Accordingly,  we  mount  our  horse*  und 
resuRiP  our  jonnicy,  on  a  fair,  clear,  but  bitter  cold  morning. 
We  leave  the  town  by  tlie  same  gate  through  whieli  ire 
ent(-rcd  it  yesterday ;  passuig  again'  along  the  large  pood 
which  I  have  already  mentioned ;  then  we  turn  to  the 
right,  Wtwevn  the  pond  and  the  Mohammedan  burying* 
ground,  through  a  grove  of  magnificent  olive-trect*.  and 
soon  find  oiu-selves  on  a  paved  ascent — in  all  probability 
the  ancient  liigli-nnid  from  liebroii  to  Jerusalem.  This 
ascent  is  now  trnnsforrucd  into  a  torrent,  occupying  the 
whole  breadth  of  the  road,  and  iuipetiiously  rolling  donii 
to  the  bottom  of  tiu-  valley  of  Ilcbrou ;  u  rush  of  watei* 
inundating  all  the  surroutuling  country,  and  produced  by 
the  iiicc:i»ant  rains  of  tlie  la^t  few  days. 

To  the  right  aiid  left  of  the  road  arc  lieautiful  vine- 
yards, intcnsjierscd  frequently  with  huts  and  round  towers, 
consisting,  no  doubt,  of  %Torkiiig  stations  and  watch-housr$, 
intended  to  accommodate  those  who  arc  plaix^d  there  for 
the  jii'otcctton  of  projirrty.  This  mode  of  watching  is  Dot 
of  recent  invention  in  Judsen,  for  the  prophet  Isoiab 
informs  us  that  in  his  day  it  was  alrtiady  in  use.  Wc 
read  at  chap.  i.  ver.  8,  "  And  the  daughter  of  Xion  is  left 
as  a  cottage  in  a  vineyard."  And,  further  on,  chap.  y. 
vtT.  1,  2,  "  Now  will  I  sing  to  my  well  beloved  a  song  of 
my  belove<l  loucliing  his  vineyard.  My  well  beloved  hath 
a  vineyard  in  a  very  fruitfid  hill:  And  he  fenced  it,  aud 


ABAB   WATCH    TOWERS. 


547 


gathered  out  the  stones  thereof,  mid  pluntod  it  with  the 
choiiaat  viiir,  unci  built  a  tower  in  the  midst  nf  it,  and  also 
made  n  wine|ires8  therein :  and  he  looketl  that  it  shouhl 
bring  forth  graprs,  and  it  brought  forth  wild  grapes." 
Here,  again,  we  have  another  proof  that  nothing  changes 
ill  tliis  country  ;  the  customs  of  thirty  ccntnries  ago  are  in 
use  to  this  day,  and  exactly  after  the  same  fasliion.  As 
soon  as  wc  have  readied  the  upper  levels,  we  encounter, 
to  the  left  of  our  road,  perceptible  ruins  called  Kliarbet-cr- 
Rain,  and  a  little  further  on,  others  named  KharbeUen- 
Nasara.  What  Kama  can  this  be?  I  am  unable  to 
answer.  As  to  the  ruins  bearing  the  name  of  Kn-Niuiara 
(the  Christians),  they  might  be  supposed  to  owe  tlicir 
origin  to  the  Crusades ;  but  I  am  far  from  asserting  tliat 
Buch  is  tJie  case.  To  assign  witli  any  degi-ee  of  certainty 
to  a  ruined  loeatitj  in  this  country,  an  origin  so  compara- 
tively modem,  would  rtiquire  a  much  more  detailed  investi- 
gatioii  than  I  was  able  tu  bestow  in  the  present  mstance. 

As  we  |)roceed,  we  perceive  on  our  right  the  vdlage  of 
llalhoul,  and  some  time  after,  towards  the  east,  that  of 
Kcli-Chioiikh.  Here  there  arc  uo  gromids  for  doubt ;  wc 
have  certainly  before  us  a  biblical  station  which  is  named  in 
Joshua  (xv.  &S)  amongst  (he  cities  of  the  hill  cotmtry  of 
Jndah — Ilalhul,  lieth-itnr,  and  Gtdor.  A  modern  village  of 
Beth-zur  still  exists,  at  a  short  disl«ncc(  westward  of  llal- 
houl ;  and  to  the  north-west  of  this  same  viUogo  we  reach, 
some  mijuites  later,  another  called  Ed-Deroueh,  which  may 
possibly  have  taken  the  place  of  the  scriptural  Gcdor. 
Still  further  on,  and  to  the  right  of  the  road,  other  cxieii- 
aivc  ruins  appear.  efllle<!  Abou-fid,  having  every  appearance 
of  a  remote  origin. 

Passing  iu  front  of  a  village  situateil  at  some  distance 

■  K  S 


SIB 


THB  OttAl>>Kli-BUR. 


rroiii  the  led  uf  iMu-  road,  niid  itniiied  I{«it-Oiuuiii:ir,  trt> 
iutive  at  llic  cntnmcc  of  a  drliglitful  viilley,  plnntcd  witli 
lino  trees  elmiling  a  fountain  (-hIIc<1  Bir-rl>Madji-Hnma- 
dan.  Tlii-s  valley  is  called  Oiiad<cMiiar  (thi:  vullcy  of  the 
wclbi),  80  naiucd  on  account  of  sonte  lai^  wells  that  are 
Found  in  the  npighbourhooi!,  and  in  all  proltaliility  of  very 
ancient  origin,  for  the  tiilmur  of  Iheir  cunatnii-tion  was 
certainly  never  undertaken  by  the  Anihs  of  the  living 
gi-ueratioii.  A\^en  we  reach  the  bottom  of  the  Ound-et- 
Hiar,  the  rraul  winds  up  the  eiirtain  of  hills  tlmt  enelosoA 
the  valley,  through  naked  rocks  and  narrow  paths,  nhuuiit 
impaKsable  for  hontcs.  Atler  mec'ting  several  Tt-ninoutA  nf 
ancient  buildings,  we  arrive  at  the  crest  of  a  mountain, 
from  which  yo»  discover  immediately  tinder  yotir  feet.  t« 
the  riglit,  and  at  the  button)  of  a  green-looking  valley, 
several  riiinod  enclosures,  bearing  the  .name  of  Delr-el- 
Benat  A  convent  of  nims  has  evidently  existed  here  at 
Ihe  period  of  the  Cnisadr-q.  A  little  further  on,  to  Ihc* 
westward,  we  see  the  village  of  Krtas,*  and  in  front,  a 
fortress  of  the  middle  ngcs  still  in  tolerable  reimir.  This 
is  the  Qal&at-el-Bouruk.  Ik-furc  coming  to  (his  fortress 
we  pass  three  enormous  cisterns,  known  to  travellers  under 
the  name  of  the  reservoirs  or  tanks  of  Solomon ;  and, 
lastly,  to  the  north-w-e-tt  of  the  Qalaat-eUBourok,  an  im- 
portant structure  api>eftra  called  Kl-Klimidr — an  anrirnl 
ex)!ive«l  dedicated  to  St.  Cieorgc.    The  view  from  this  high 

*  Higbt  not  tb»  villn^  of  Brta*  ba  lilciitlfleil  with  tho  Atvlhun  monUooMl  bj 
JowpliiiH  (j^iit.  Jul).  XIV.  iv.  4)  ma  h»iiig  bvea  conqiwrvd  from  Un  Jo**  l^ 
Piimpoy  tlio  Qtiat.  and  aftomwdi  rMlOr«d  to  lU  iiitialiiliiata  iriUi  MulMa,  A  1Mb, 
Bud  Junnia.  .luHphug,  id  tltii  WDM  piuatg*.  wr*  OiaX  thax  Unnu  irera  *ll  in  tb* 
tnlDcidr  af  the  land,  ami  tlnoo  Sluruau  iiiiuil  h*i-«  Ixiii  iii  Uiv  liiaaity  i^  tl,a  (pot 
in  ijiiiMbou,  it  ia  vprjp  jHiesiblo  tbal  tb«  moilffii  l^Mi  ihould  ba  tb«  AfMooM  af 
Jowpliu*.  Tliln  biMflrka  rapcati  th«  Mm*  tiolnw  of  Aretbiuk  in  bU  uamtivc  of 
tlw  ■■•vidi  war  «l.  vii   T>, 


I 


1{l!.<<Rie\'0iltS  I)F   r4iiU>»0N. 


5M 


ground  is  bciuitifiil  and  exttrnsive,  ami  such  aa  yoii  nui^f 
gnxc  on  for  hours  without  weariness. 

VVi;  should  hnvi?  been  dtilighted  to  halt  here  for  breflk- 


fttst.  with  such 


but  it 


imiioraiim  uniu;r  our  cyi 
equally  necessary  and  agreeable  to  have  water  to  drink 
when  you  are  engaged  in  eating,  and  thiti  elementary 
consideration  determined  us  to  descend  to  the  foot  of  the 
walls  of  the  Qaliat-el-Buiu-ak,  where  on  abundant  spring, 
that  eontriliiites  its  sliaie  towards  filling  tin:  reservoirs  of 
Solouum,  promised  all  tin:  rel'resluuent  wc  e()uld  look  for 
in  the  desert.  In  a  few  minutes  we  arrived ;  our  car|}et 
was  spread  exactly  above  the  fountain ;  wc  stretched 
ouraelves  upon  the  turf,  and  did  ample  credit  to  our  half- 
9tar%'ed  fowls  and  hard-boiled  eggs,  whilst  we  dwelt  most 
compla<x;n) ly  on  the  thought  that  we  were  about  to  re-enter 
Jerusalem,  and  to  enjoy  at  least  a  few  days'  rest,  of  which 
the  whole  party  st«H)d  greatly  in  ncctl. 

Uuriug  our  repast,  the  Turkish  governor  of  the  caatk;, 
at  the  foot  of  which  we  had  i'»tabli»hed  onrselvett,  eainc 
lorth  from  the  fort,  ou  IiorsclMick.  accom|)flnied  by  three  or 
four  other  Turks  of  the  old  scliuol,  dressed  atrcording  \o 
the  ancient  costume,  'lliese  gentlemen  were  going  out  for 
an  airing ;  they  did  not  (?ondesccnd  to  favour  un  with  tlic 
slightest  attention,  and  we  returned  their  politeness  by 
similar  neglect.  Our  sclieikhs  ciprciidly,  when  looking  at 
them  as  they  [Kksseti,  assumed  an  expression  of  profound 
coiitenipl,  which  lliose  who  were  the  object  of  this  demon- 
stration eonld  scarcely  construe  into  a  mark  of  defenrnec, 
howtwer  their  self-love  might  dictate  to  tlieiii  to  do  m.  In 
this  country  the  Turks  affect  to  despise  the  Arabs,  of 
whom  in  reality  they  stand  in  dread ;  whibit  the  Arabs 
thoroughly  despise  the  Turks,  and  never  fail  expressing 
this  feeling  when  they  find  themselves  beyond  the  walls  of 


BSO 


TirRKISn   OARRBOS. 


JpTusnleni.  This  means  in  point  of  fiurt  that  the  Ottotoan 
dominion  extends  as  far  as  the  city  walls,  but  l>ev<>nd  thta 
barrirr  it  (^xis(s  only  liy  ihi;  snfferanoc  of  the  Bedouin 
tribes.  It  neqiiii-es  no  very  profound  projibct  to  forcttU 
that,  crc  long,  the  Tnrkisli  race  will  be  entirely  expelled 
from  all  the  countries  where  the  Arab  is  the  indigcnoas 
ofTspriug  of  the  soil.  Tliosc  reflections  passed  across  my 
mind  as  we  were  breakfasting  by  the  wde  of  Solomon's 
t^mks,  though  I  little  expected  at  the  moment,  that  in  less 
than  two  years,  the  same  Scheikh  Abd-Allah,  whose  visit 
I  bad  n-eeived  in  Hebron,  would  tiike  permanent  possession 
of  that  town,  expelling  all  the  Turks  who  had  hiUierto 
exercised  the  <iovcreigiity  there:  and  that  the  Pncba  of 
Jerusalem,  on  issuing  out  with  such  troops  as  he  could 
colleet,  tn  repress  tin:  n;l>elli(>n,  would  receive  a  lesson 
when  half-way  to  teach  him  to  keep  quiet  henceforth  in 
the  head-quarters  of  his  pashalic ;  and  that  he  woold 
liasten  back  U>  Jcnisalcni,  to  shut  hiiusclf  uji  in  that 
strong-hold,  much  faster  than  he  had  sallied  forth. 

After  an  hour's  delay,  close  to  the  Qaliat-el-Bourak,  we 
mount  our  horses  again  and  resume  our  march.  We  soon 
cross  the  Ouad-ot-Thftamcra,  and  here,  the  last  of  our 
faithful  fuUower«  halt,  to  take  leave  of  us  and  return  to 
their  tents.  Ilaindan  and  AWu-Daonk  alone  remain. 
Leaving  Bethlehem  on  our  right,  wc  pass  within  sight 
of  the  villages  of  Hoil-IJjala,*  of  Nuhhalin,  of  Kr- 
J}c)[eth,t  of  Bcit-Safufa,  and  of  Malrha,  this  htst  giving 


*  Batt-DJolB  U  moat  likely  th«  Oiloli  frv^j)  mmitionnd  unaoftit  lb*  cati*  is  tfc* 
BlOWibiiu,  <fl  tlio  trib*  of  Jadali  IJonlmi  ir.  hi).  Id  dow  cotuiacliou  with 
Ollah.  tliD  niutie  vtrto  raeatioat  tliu  lillxm  of  Holon  (tV^)  whioli  I  ua  tomb 
toint'lvd  (o  idviitiff  wltli  Ilia  villAgo  cf  Kahlulln.  litvnlcd  to  cIom  to  Bait-Djal^ 
[Thi*  iijeatitf  ia  the  norv  |<r<ihiiUla  lu  lii*  ajrllible  Kih  \»  eridcotljr  bcra  • 
onrrujitiuii  of  tlin  ai'lklu ;  NbIi  lialln  ia  no  olW  tbao  EalhUn.  .Vm«  ty  ll* 
aVonWiUur.] 

t  Er-Bdutb  la  |i*rha]H  Uia  p1>co  wbare  lUccbldB*  mEsiiiptd  m  bli  mj  tnm 


BIB1.ICAI.    1.UCALIT1E5. 


351 


» 


name  to  the  Oiia(t-<4-Maloha.  All  these  localities 
are  situated  oa  tlie  lulls  to  our  lufl,  troin  whicli  we 
arc  incrcjisijig  oiir  distauce,  to  fall  in  agam  witli  tlic 
road  to  Bethlehem,  at  th«  spot  where  stiiiids  ihe  tomb 
of  Rjichcl.  Wc  observed  on  the  heights  situated  at  a 
few  thousand  yards  to  the  westwnril  of  llic  liuc  of 
villagca  mciitioucd  above,  a  station  called  El-Kabou» 
close  to  which  is  another  small  village  named  El- 
llowulaiijali.  MatU^o  informs  me.  that  at  a  distance  of 
hiilf-uu-hour's  march  from  Hl-Kubou,  there  is  a  villoge 
willed  Hattir,  containing  a  fine  fountain , — to  the  right  of 
liuttir,  and  on  the  height  commandiug  this  viUoge,  there 
arc  ruins.  Ijiustly,  between  EbKabou  and  Jcrmialem, 
is  the  convent  of  St.  John,  not  far  from  which  arc  the  ruins 
of  Mudeim,  the  native  land  of  the  Muceabec5 ;  their  niausD- 
lemu  vras  erected  there,  ornamented  witli  jiyramids,  of  wtiicli 
the  historian  JutiepLus  has  left  us  a  pompous  dusm-iption. 

I  Iciinit  also  from  Matteo  that  at  the  distance  of  a  few 
leagues  in  a  due  westerly  direction  from  Kl-llourak,  there 
is  a  village  with  ruins,  called  Chounkah.  This  is  uncpies- 
tiouftbly  the  Socoh  of  the  transktors  of  the  Bible,  men- 
tioned in  verse  35,  chapter  xv  of  Joshua,  as  umongst  the 
cities  of  the  plain ;  since  this  Socoh  (nsia?,  properly 
ChuuVknh),  is  nniiied  with  Jarmuth,  ibi  lying  in  clos<<  vicinity 
to  CHch  other  ;  and  since  also  there  cxisl-s  In  the  immediate 
neighbourhood  of  Choucikali,  a  village  wliich  is  still  culled 
Jaiimitb. 

Lc^t  us  not  omit  to  observe  that  we  find  enumernted 
amongst  the  eilit^  of  the  uiountainous  disLiicts  of  Jiidah 
another   Socoh    Averse   4b),   as  also   Shaniii',  and    Jatlir. 


JvniMktuiii  (I  Hiu;«bf«a  \t\i.  W).  Tlin  luoio  of  IliU  f'^^  ■*  wr^ttDii  BqfM  or 
Bq^BiS;  but  JoMi'Iiu*  nriUn  it  Bii#<n^  (Ant.  Jud.  XII.  XX.  1).  kUil  tclla  iii  tlikt 
BusvUdw  auDo  to  M4«ick  Jndiu  UtMuubaiu,  wlio  hh  ouCMuixnl  on  tliis  iiioL 


APPREBBSSIONii  Of  (|P4KJ1KT1SK. 


^: 


brrc  can  be  no  fODfasion  between  Uicav  two  localities 
K  RntUf  nnniv.     Miglit  not  the  second  one  he  identified 
rttli  the  prcsL-nt  village  of  Ecb-Chioukli,  whifli  is  situnted 
istward  of  I  lalhoiit  ?     1  leave  this  question  to  be  decided 
by  more  learned  heads  tban  my  own. 

VVe  have  now  ahnost  reached  Jenisalem — Iieaven  be 
'praised  I^-as  the  day  is  already  for  advanced,  wc  have  no 
ac  to  lose,  if  w(t  wish  to  find  the  gates  of  the  city  still 
en.  We  therefore  push  on,  and  proceed  at  a  rapid 
pace ;  not  so  fast,  nc\-crthcless,  bnt  that  an  Arab  on  foot 
contrives  to  get  ahead  of  us :  he  is  nmning  as  if  fur  a 
wa^r,  and  whilst  poking,  mutters  a  few  words  to  our 
scheikhs,  whirh  I  cannot  nnderstand.    They  ap|>ear  to  me 

I  to  assume  thoughtful  coimteuances  on  this  communication. 
I  hasten  to  incjiiirc  the  cause,  and  receive  the  following 
Inswer.     If  the  foot  messenger  who  has  just  overtaken  as 
h— and  who  bos  travi-llcd  from  Hebron  to-leniRalem  in  four 
pours  and  n  half — dws  not  arrive  in  time  to  deliver  to  the 
Sutliorities  a  letter  written  by  the  dinietor  of  the  lazaretto 
in  Hebron,  certifying  that  we  are   not  an  arrival  from 
^^£17^/  witioui  a  clfan  bUf  of  health,  wc  sliall   be  placed 
undfT  quarantine   for   five   days,  outside  the  city  avails. 
K"  But  this  is  aljsurd."  wc  exclaim  ;   "  are  wc  coming  fi^m 
^Egj-pt?"     "  What  does  it  signify?"  is  the  simultaneous 
answer  of  both  llamdaii  and  Abou-Daouk.     "Since  they 
know  not  whence  we-  come,  they  will  assert  in  preference 
at  we  arc  direct  from    EUArish ;    and    for    the  simple 
ijason  that  we  ai-e  alive,  whilst,  if  we  liad  gone  to  Korak. 
ve  should  certainly  never  have  returned  at  all." 

Lui-kily,  the  du-cctor  of  the  lazaretto  of  Hebron  was  a 
worthy  individual,  who,  foreseeing  the  annoyance  wc  were 
ikdy  to  meet  with  at  our  entrance  into  Jerusalem,  bad 
JeaiMitehed  a  gcxwl  nmncr  who,  for  the  i-emtmcration  of  a 


I 
I 


AR1IIVAL    XT  JEHU8ALBM. 


6Bd 


: 


few  piMtres,  was  carrying  our  eleoM  biU  of  heaUk  to  tlie 
sanitary  nathoritit-s  uf  tho  sarnxl  city. 

As  we  coutinue  our  iiinrch  as  fast  as  possible,  we  meet 
some  Bcthlchrmites  at  Mar-VIHas,  nn  tlicir  way  from  Jvru* 
saJcm,  who  confirm  tlit!  ngrceabic  inteIHgcnou  that  we  are 
doomed  tn  sleep  five  nights  more  under  canvas.  The 
dmgoiuan,  Francis,  who  hiid  started  from  Hebron  curly  in 
the  morning,  and  long  in  advance  of  us,  to  provide  our 
lodgings,  has  been  phicod,  by  way  of  preliminary,  under 
quarantine  at  the  Bab-cl-Khalil,  —  where  he  is  closely 
guarded,  as  if  he  were  actually  infected  with  the  plaguo, 
which  he  is  not.  The  reader  may  imagine  how  anxious 
and  angry  we  are  ut  the  same  time:  at  length,  wc  traverse 
the  intervening  distance,  and  reach  the  city  gate.  IVaocis 
has  just  been  re-stored  to  liberty,  aiid  wc  are  permitted  to 
enter  fret-ly,  thanks  to  om-  good  runner  from  Hebron.  I 
give  the  poor  fellow  twenty  piastres,  and  he  considers 
himself  royally  paid  for  lis  trouble,  though  the  reward  is 
not  much. 

The  first  person  I  set  my  eyes  upon  is  otir  kind  friend 
the  Abbe  MichoUf  who  having  returned  only  a  few  houre 
before  us,  from  his  excursion  to  Bcyrout,  has  etmie  to  wait 
our  arrival  at  thu  gate  by  which  we  are  expected  to  cntw, 
as  soon  as  lie  heard  that  our  dragoman,  l-'raiinis,  liiul  made 
his  itppfiinmee  in  Jernsalfm.  lie  had  been  already  greeted 
witli  the  unwrlronie  intelligence  of  our  deaths,  winch  had 
been  currently  re])orted  as  certain  for  a  week.  Even  our 
friend,  M.  UottJt,  was  not  without  some  anxiety  resi)ccting 
our  fate ;  he  had  been  unable  to  procuro  any  information 
as  to  what  had  lieeoine  of  us,  and  this  absolute  silence 
affordetl  him  deep  subject  for  anxiety  on  (he  prolMtble  issue 
of  our  adventurous  cxpcdilion ;  but  now  here  we  are, 
n^ippcarJng   unexpectedly,    all    in    cxeirlliiit    health,   and 


551 


WRIXXIWB   IN'TBLLIOEKCE. 


ilettghtcd  with  the  unhoped-for  result  of  a  roost  suoccssfuf 
journey. 

After  ttie  firat  einbmocs,  the  dear  Abbi^  hastened  to  give 
me  news  of  uiy  son,  wliom  be  had  seen  cmbork  at  Beyrout, 
iu  a  sattHlactoiy  stale  of  health.  I,  Ihcrcfurc,  made  niy 
secoud  entrance  into  the  Holy  City  with  a  bght  heart. 
An  wt;  hnil  Ihth  dissutistiud  uith  the  accMUimuduliuuii  of 
the  Hwtel  JlesbiUam,  we  now  determined  to  look  for 
ijuarters  at  the  Francisain  convent,  or  (.'asa  Nuova,  where 
we  were  received  with  that  frank  cordioUty  which  gives 
additional  value  to  the  unpretending  ho»])ilality  of  tlu; 
worthy  fathcra.  The  Abbe  wax  already  installed  iu  a  cell ; 
a  numl>cr  of  small  double- l>edded  rooniH  were  irunicdiately 
assigned  to  us,  of  which  we  took  posi^ession  m  gaily  us 
possible.  Our  cbainbcrs  were  contiguous,  and  0|>cncd  oa 
the  sanie  uncovered  gallery,  admitting  the  pure  air  of 
Hcavcu ;  wc  arc  thus  iJl  tt}g(!ther,  and  lodged  as  comfort- 
ably IU)  travellera  can  expect  to  be  in  Jcniealem.  The  only 
objection  we  can  find  to  these  rooms  is,  that  having  o<;cu. 
pied  them  during  the  rainy  season,  tliey  are  druiidfulty 
damp.  Btit  as  it  would  he  un^  to  charge  the  good 
fathers  with  the  iiicknicucy  of  the  weather,  1  atii  but 
repeat,  from  the  bottom  of  my  heait,  the  assurance  of  my 
sincere  gratitude,  us  I  have  atn'ady  expressett  it  when  1 
parted  with  them,  perhaps  iievei'  to  meet  again. 

The  onlinury  fare  of  the  convent  is  rather  inej^rc  ;  but 
how  am  it  be  otherwise,  wliea  we  consider  that  this  vene- 
rable establishment  di.stribuUrs  gratis,  fur  a  month,  the 
most  unresei'ved  ho-spitality  to  all  corners.  Vt'c  were  a 
littli.;  too  sensual  to  content  ourselves  with  the  frugal 
rt-pasts  provided  acconling  to  the  reguhitions  of  tlie  con- 
vent; and  as  wc  uitended  to  rct^n  our  trusty  Mattoo  in 
our  ser\'ice  for  the  remainder  of  the  journey,  he  aius,  at 


HESIDENCK  AT  TOE  CA8A   NUOTA. 

our  request,  put  in  possession  of  nn  under  room,  wliicli  lie 
fonvortcil  iiitw  a  kitclicn,  ami  wc  coiitiuucd,  ua  before,  lo 
live  upon  fowls  and  mutton.  It  is  tnic,  that  very  often 
we  went,  by  way  of  compensation,  to  dine  at  the  excellent 
tabic  of  our  kind  consul,  at  whose  house  wc  passed  nearly 
ail  our  evenings,  except  whcrn  it  rained  «o  heavily  that  it 
became  impossible  to  stir  beyond  the  doors. 

Wc  tried,  after  dinner,  to  obtain  heat,  by  means  of  an  m 
enormous  brazier  tilled  with  burning  cuuts  ;  but  it  gave  us  V 
such  hcadaclies,  that,  ^vishing  to  live  a  little  longer,  now 
that  we  have  csaipcd  fn)ni  tlu:  devil's  ctutchcs,  wc  fimily  H 
resolve  never  again  to  have  recourse  to  this  implement  of 
fnniiturc,    ailiiiiriibly    suited    to   all    liypochondriacs  who  m 
prefer  voluntary  death  by  asphyxia.     I.et  the  cold  be  as    " 
intense  as  it  may,  we  shall  in  future  only  warm  our  lingers 
at  the  fire  of  our  kind  friend  the  consul.  f 

At  last,  we  are  at  Uberty  to  undress  in  earnest,  after 
being  deprived  of  this  seasonable  luxury  fur  luony  days.  M 
Once  more  wc  lie  down  upon  real  beds ;  alas  1  that  these 
should  happen  to  be  as  damp  as  if  the  sheets  had  been   _ 
dipped  in  a  cistern !     We  have  no  escape  from  one  of  two  fl 
risks :  cither   we  must  now  (rn(;i>niit(n-  hydropathic  treat- 
ment to  cure  rheumatism  in  perspective,  or  we  must  give  M 
ourselves  an  acute  fit  of  rlicumatisni,  in  the  hoije  of  curing 
it  at  some  future   day,  by   a  course  of  hydn)pathy.     In  h 
either  case,  we  resign  oursi^lves  to  Providence.     The  beds  ■ 
before  us  arc  substantial,  and  not  imaginary ;  and  this 
consideration  jirevaiting  over  all  others,  we  hasten  lo  get 
over  the  first  unpleasant  sensations,  aud  soon  fall  aslwp, 
as  iMHiple  arc  sure  tti  sleep  after  more  ttian  twenty  days  of 
canipaiguing  and  bivouac. 

JmiftULCK,  JVcHi  fauiMrf  iah  Id  Almory  W, 

1  shall  here  again  dispense  with  the  rather  uninteresting 


I 
1 


&56 


A.V    ARAB   SOtBKE. 


diary  of  our  resideuce  in  Jerusnluin.  A  few  words  will 
KuJiicc  t<)  give  tin;  rradrr  a  gtmcml  idea  of  our  onliuaij' 
avocatioDS-  After  breakfast,  when  tliu  wcatlicr  pcnuits, 
we  run  to  the  monunicntt  we  are  most  anxiously  intent  , 
upon  studying ;  these  ore  the  area  of  the  ancient  temple,  I 
and  the  totnlu,  or  seituiehral  caverns,  tliat  earround  lite 
laty.  The  morning  is  epiployed  in  mcasiiridg  and  sketch- 
ing on  the  ground.  If  it  niiuK  so  hard  that  there  is  no 
[jossibiUty  of  veutiuing  beyond  the  walls,  I  remain  al 
home  in  tlie  Ca:M  Nuova,  where  I  classify  the  collection  of 
rocks  we  have  picked  up  in  the  region  of  the  Dead  Sea ; 
at  other  times,  I  611  in  niy  drawings  in  Indian  ink,  or 
study  the  intxrnaiting  work  of  QiuircsiniuH.  Nearly  all  our 
evenings  are  speut  at  M.  Uotta's,  at  whose  hou^  wc 
invariably  find  the  most  friendly  and  [lolite  reception. 
Sonictimes,  also,  we  pass  a  few  hours  in  the  drawiiig-room 
of  M.  Pizzaniano,  a  society  jiresidcd  over  with  act^oinpltshed 
grace  by  Madame  Pizzaniano. 

On  the  evening  of  February  Si-d,  Matteo  trfat<r<l  iis  to 
an  Arab  Soirtie,  with  the  obligato  acctJiitpaniinctit  of  kcltle- 
dnims  and  tambourine!) ;  some  of  tJie  musicians,  without 
any  apparent  object,  striking  out  suddenly  into  a  gurgling, 
snuflUug  chant,  unlike  anything  that  n'crwas  heard  in  Uic 
shape  of  a  song.  The  melody  and  the  accompatiimcnt 
were  sadly  at  variance  with  cjich  other.  In  compliiaent  tfl 
us,  a&  Frenchmen,  on  our  entering  the  concert-room,  the 
orchastra  commenced  clanging  and  taiiibourining  a  stnuigi* 
incongruous  imitation  of  lite  Mamfi/Zainr,  and  1  confess 
that  my  vanity,  as  a  Huro]it;an  dik■ttant(^  and  |>crformt:r, 
rwcived  a  cniel  shock.  If  it  is  by  this  sample,  exeruted 
in  sm-h  a  mauner,  that  French  muMic  is  estimated  in 
Jerusalem,  wc  muEt  pass  for  ignorant  prctt^ndcrs,  without 
car  enough   fo  distinguish  one  tune  Irom  auotltcr,  and 


I 

I 

I 

I 

I 

i 


TliK   lUXijlIKT. 


557 


nwlitutc  of  tnsti*  f.n  (jtrtwivu  tlic  difference  between  good 
and  bad. 

I)iirin|5  two  long  lioiirs  we  suffered  this  infliction, 
forming  the  centre  of  a  group  of  male  faces,  young  and 
old,  smoking  (lie  chibouk  aud  drinking  wine,  water,  or 
coffee,  according  an  the  invited  giu-«t  Impiioncd  to  be  n 
ChrUtinu  or  a  Mussulinnn.  As  Mattco  is  a  Christian,  the 
niajoriiy  iit  not  on  the  side  of  the  followcnt  of  Muhoiuet. 
Swcntmeats,  or  pastry  mixed  up  witli  honey,  are  introduced 
between  tlie  ac4.s  of  th(^  concert.  To  give  ii  greater  uninia- 
lion  to  the  performance,  or  rather,  to  stimulate  the  ardour 
of  llic  miuticiaiui,  Mohammed,  who  is  sijuntttng  on  the 
floor  by  my  side,  exhoits  me  to  bestow  a  largess.  1  there- 
fore send,  ill  the  name  of  the  whole  party,  fifty  piastres  to 
each  of  the  musicians, — a  reward  infinitely  beyond  his 
merit.  From  this  moment  the  clasliing,  jarring  and 
seroaining.  rediMible  in  vigour.  1  should  have  much  pro- 
fcrrcd.  Imd  tlie  performers  acknowledged  oiir  Imkshish  in  » 
different  manner,  and  shown  their  thankfidiiess  and  gotid 
deserts  by  rcmiiiuing  silent. 

We  anxiously  desij-e  to  release  ourselves  from  the 
lengthened  enjoyments  of  this  male  Soiree,  hut  we  have 
not  yet  been  presented  with  the  nosegay,  without  wliieh  it 
[s  impossible  to  siir.  The  mistress  of  the  lioust;,  with  all 
the  female  [wrtion  of  the  society  congregated  at  Matteo's, 
though  completely  excluded  from  our  sight,  are  busily 
employed  in  the  preparation  of  this  premeditated  bomjuct. 
When  the  loug-€xjKrc;t*Hl  obj»x't  is  brought  in,  it  looks  like 
a  whitish  mass,  as  large  as  a  huge  mole-hill,  snniiouiited 
with  flowers,  small  lighted  candles,  and  bttle  scraps  uf  tinsel. 
U  has  an  imposing  hxik,  1  confess,  and  yet  I  ask  myself 
what  it  is.  As  this  strange  compound  is  placed  before  rnc, 
without  anything  in  the  shape  of  a  spwni  or  fork,  1  mwA 


B«8 


A    KRNAl'KH, 


give  a|)  all  resAn'e  and  uttark  it  with  my  fingers.  It  proves 
to  be  a  mixture  of  flour,  sugar,  ]ioutiilrd  nlumiicU,  aiij  I 
don't  know  how  many  ingredients  besides ;  Iml  I  sospect 
that,  ninongst  other  components,  a  goodly  ailovranee  of 
tnUuW'Cundlc  is  not  wanting.  Th«  article  in  ([ui^lion  is 
callifd  a  KeHo/t'h.  In  Jerusalem  there  is  no  such  thing  as 
R  festival  without  n  Kcnafvh ;  hut  at  tlie  same  time,  tJiarc 
i»  no  Konafeh  nnless  it  be  n  real  festival. 

1  should  much  pn;fi:r  not  being  compelled  to  cat  a  large 
[wrtiou  of  this  incongruous  mess ;  but  the  good  people 
ap[>ear  little  dii;]iosvd  to  take  it  atray  in  »  huny  ;  they  ore 
much  too  polite  for  that.  There  i»,  however,  one  hoiHiur 
which  I  moat  resolutely  refuse ;  that  of  tustiiig  the  littlo 
roimd  balls  wir  neighbours  are  continually  rolling  between 
tlieir  lingers,  and  then  [M^itely  prciiciiting  to  yon.  I  conceal 
under  a  pretence  of  absolute  want  of  appetite  the  honible 
clisguiit  caused  by  this  [irutTvrcd  luxury,  and  allow  my  poor 
friend  Ednard  to  pay  for  us  Iwth,  by  swallowing  all  that 
is  offered  by  the  entire  company.  I  confess,  the  grimaces 
I  see  liiiti  make  whilst  undergoing  the  operation,  do  not 
dispose  me  in  any  way  to  relax  in  my  affected  alwtinence. 
After  tliis  ceremony  wc  ore  suffered  to  retire  from  the 
party,  and  leave  our  gracious  hosts  to  enjoy  their  meny- 
making  after  their  own  fancies.  Wc  break  up  the  silting 
and  return  to  the  Casa  Nuova,  where  at  least  wc  have 
more  Kcnafeh  to  encountt^. 

On  going  out,  Mattoo  presents  to  us  in  the  court-yard, 
and  in  grand  form,  Madame  Mattt-o,  who  is,  let  rae  speak 
the  truth,  a  vcrj*  pretty  woman,  with  whom  wc  exchange 
by  turns  a  farewell  saiutatiou.  whilst  to  the  master  of  tbc 
house  we  leave  a  Irnksliish  of  three  hundred  piastres,  not 
to  be  behind-hand  ui  generosity  with  om-  faithful  senant. 
The  next   day,   tVbniary   tho  -Itli,   lias  l>ecu  entirely 


MOSl'MENTS  OF   JERUSALEM. 


S59 


I 
I 


Djcf  in  visiting  the  nioimiiirnt  ciillrtl  the  "Tomb  of 
(hir  Kings,"  Q'boiir-<':l-Molouk,  or  Q'boiir-el-Selathin.  Up  to 
tiic  pitsriit  time  this  is  tbe  object  we  have  most  adiiiircd 
of  all  we  bave  seen,  having  (lifH-ovcrcil  in  il  throe  stone  lids 
of  sarcophagi,  whicli  wouUl  b«  invaluable  in  such  a  museum 
Bfl  that  of  the  Louvre.  HenceforwartI  we  are  contiiiunlly 
revolving  in  our  minds  the  means  by  which  w©  nmy  obtain 
possession  of  and  carry  off  tla'sc  precious  remains  of  Judaic 
art.  But,  before  anything  else,  we  must  thoroughly  examine 
the  monument  itself,  and  ascertain  if  it  is  really  entitled  to 
the  name  it  bears.  We  are  not  long  in  fonuing  oar  coti- 
victious  in  this  respect,  and  soon  arrive  at  the  moral  certi- 
tude thai,  iu  cHtmiig  this  wonderful  cave,  we  bave  stood 
in  tJie  sepulchre  of  David  and  of  the  kings  of  liis  dyuasty. 

But  this  is  not  yet  the  time  or  place  to  examine  tbe 
<lucstion  with  the  attention  it  deserves,  and  I  propose  to 
treat  it  in  cvteiiso  in  a  sp(!cinl  cliaptcr  a  little  ftirtber  ou ; 
when,  setting  aside  the  manner  and  style  of  a  Ij-uveller 
who  transcribes  the  daily  routine  of  his  journey,  I 
sliail  arrange  under  a  separnlc  head  the  n-atiits  of  my 
observations  on  all  the  particuhir  monuineiits  contained 
within  the  walls  of  Jerusalem,  or  which,  from  their  close 
vicinity  to  the  space  so  circumscribed,  unquestionably 
belong  to  the  history  of  the  capita]  of  tbe  kings  of  Jndah. 

We  ttere  impatient  to  continue  our  surxey  of  the  Dead 
Sea,  ami  to  examine  attentively  the  nortbeni  point  of  tbis 
extraordinary  lake.  Witb  this  object  wc  had  licld  con- 
ferences with  the  schcikhs,  who  usually  undertake,  for  a 
bakshish  of  a  hiuidred  piastres  ptrr  head  for  each  traveller, 
to  conduct  pilgrims  to  Jericho,  the  Jortlan,  aud  the  Dead 
Sea,  am!  to  protect  lliem  against  any  attack  during  this 
excursion,  which  is  generally  aceompli^bed  within  three 
days.     Tlu'siT  people  are,  Hat-Allah,  schcikh  of  the  village 


SAO 


ASOTHKlt    RXI'KDITIOS    ABUASOEll. 


I 


of  Sikxiiii,  urn)  lUv  two  brother?  Mnlimmii)  and  Muslafn, 
scliicklis  of  the  village  of  Abou-Dis,  sitimtt-tl  to  (lie  right 
of  the  Fountain  of  th<^  jVpostlca,  or  Rir-cl-Haoud,  on  the  f 
heights  cominaiuling  the  valley  that  leads  to  Ji-richu,  and 
altont  a  thousand  yards  distant  beyond  Itcthimy.  Hut-  ^ 
Allah  is  a  little  old  man,  still  phiiiip  and  active,  having  ^ 
pniservctl  much  of  the  energy  and  alacrity  of  ymith.  The  ^ 
two  schcikhs  of  vVbou-Dis  are,  especially  Mahmoud,  fine  V 
inunly  fellowK,  always  with  a  smile  on  tlicir  lip&,  and  of  a 
kindness  and  fidelity  superior  to  any  trial.  These  three 
[HinMMiages  cnguf'e  to  provide  lis  with  a  sufficient  escort, 
chosen  from  amongst  the  people  under  their  sway.  As 
wc  purpose  examining  Ihc  shore  of  the  Asphalttc  Ijflkc,  as 
far  as  the  spot  where  vfe  first  reacheil  it,  that  is  to  say.  as 
far  OS  the  Ayn-vl-Kliuucyr,  we  must  necr^arily  take  a  little 
more  timn  the  usual  time  for  our  journey,  and  cannot  treat 
with  our  schcikhs  on  tlic  footing  of  ordinary  travellers. 
Our  agreement  is  soon  settled ;  and  by  doubling  the 
amount  of  piastres,  wc  may,  if  we  choose,  double  iLu 
number  of  days  to  be  oonipied  on  the  march. 

We  mutually  exchange  rendeseovt  for  the  &th  o! 
Febniary.  early  in  the  morning,  before  the  door  i)f  the 
Caaa  Nuova.  Matleo  has  received  liis  orders ;  our  provi- 
sious  are  ready,  all  onr  luggage  packed,  and  we  wait  with 
restlcNs  itnpiiticnee  tlie  hour  of  departure,  anxious  to  com- 
plete the  exploring  expedition,  of  which  we  have  already 
accomplished  so  imiKirtant  a  portion. 


BSD   OF  TOI,.  I. 


531  ST     eRt 
92    5J-005-00 


1115 


lwA>a  jf-mutt  '-•™''"„ 


3  iiios  DDE  32a  oa^ 


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