Byeways in Palestine. James Finn
Moslem shaikh, with his son, joined also in reciting it:—
“The children of Israel built up;
The Christians kept up;
The Moslems have destroyed.”
In saying this, however, by the second line they refer to the crusading period; and by the last line they denote the bad government of the Turks, under which the wild Bedaween are encroaching upon civilisation, and devastating the recompense of honest industry from the fertile soil.
We—starting upon our last day’s journey together—passed over wide fields of wheat-stubble. On coming near the village of Samma, the old shaikh came out to welcome us, and inquire if his place is written in the books of the Europeans. On examining our maps, one of our party found it in his; and the rest promised the friendly old man that his village should be written down.
Proceeding through a green and rocky glen, between high hills, with a running stream, the weather was exceedingly hot. Here our party divided—ourselves advancing towards Umm Kais; while the baggage and servants turned to the left, so as to cross the Jordan by the bridge El Mejâma’a for Tiberias. The principal intention of this was for the property to avoid the chance of falling into the hands of the Beni Sukh’r. Shaikh Yusuf now showed the relief from his mind by beginning to sing. This was all very well for him, who had nothing to lose; because, as it was said long ago—
“Cantabit vacuus coram latrone viator.”
After wandering round and around, we descended into Wadi Zahari, “the flowering valley,” where, by the water-side, were reeds and oleanders forty or fifty feet high; and near them we observed a pear-tree and a fig-tree, all alone and deserted, the remains of former cultivation. This and other previous instances attest the risk that attends rural labour in that district, being in the immediate vicinity of the Bedaween, and the utter mockery of nominal Turkish rule. Here we filled our leathern water-bottles, (called zumzumîa in the Desert, and máttara by towns-people,) and climbed up a stony hill, the heat of the day increasing. No path among the rocks, and all of us angry at Shaikh Yusuf for saving himself the few piastres by conducting us among such difficulties.
Then, after some time we perceived ourselves to be near Umm Kais, by the sarcophagi, the sepulchres, and ruts of chariot-wheels upon the rocks. We rushed up to a large tree for refreshing shelter, and near it found numerous sepulchres, highly ornamented, and some of them with the stone doors remaining on the hinges, which we swung about to test the reality of their remaining so perfect, (figs. 1, 2, 3.)
Among these was the one remarked by Lord Lindsay in his Travels, bearing a Hebrew name inscribed in Greek letters, but which he has not
given quite correctly. It should be Gaanuiph instead of Gaaniph. This sepulchre is cut in black
basaltic rock, and has some broken sarcophagi remaining inside. On a round fragment of a column, near this side, is the inscription given below, (fig. 4.) The upper part is the farewell of surviving relatives
to the daughter of SEMLACHUS. The lower part, for whomsoever intended—“and thou also farewell,”—carries with it a touch of nature that still affects the heart, after the lapse of many centuries.
The mausoleums and sepulchres at the opposite end of the city were even more numerous, many having Greek inscriptions upon them.
But the theatre is the most remarkable of all the objects of antiquity—so perfect, with its rows of seats complete, surrounded by numerous public edifices and lines of columns; and then commanding from those seats a large view of the beautiful Lake of Tiberias, and of the grand mountains which enclose it, as a frame to the picture.
Here I stayed behind the rest of the party for a considerable time, charmed with the spectacle of nature, and revolving over the incidents of Herodian history, so vividly portrayed by Josephus.
Then rejoined my friends, by galloping along a Roman road, paved with blocks of dark basalt.
But before leaving this place, I must express my surprise at any person that has been there imagining for a moment that it can be the Gadara of Scripture.
The distance from the lake is so great as to be utterly incompatible with the recorded transactions in the Gospels—having valleys and high hills intervening; and even supposing the miracle of relieving the demoniac to refer not to the city but to a territory named Gadara, it is inconceivable that the territory belonging to this city (Umm Kais) could extend beyond the deep natural crevasse of the river Yarmuk, and then rise up a high mountain, to descend again into a plain, all before reaching the lake.
Our descent to the Yarmuk was long and steep; and upon the plain which it intersects, the heat exceeded any that I had ever encountered anywhere. The air was like fire. Such a day I shall never forget.
The Yarmuk is so considerable a river that the Arabs call it Sheree’a, as they do the Jordan—only qualifying the latter as the larger one. It is called the Sheree’a el Menâdhĕrah, from a party of Bedaween occupying its banks in the interior.
The crevasse through which it issues is wild and romantic in the extreme. High cliffs of basalt are the confines of the water. This, on reaching the plain, is parted with several streams, (to compare great things with small,) in the fashion of the Nile or the Ganges; which the Jordan is not, either at its entrance into this lake or its entrance into the Dead Sea.
All the streams are fringed with oleander; and, in the extreme heat of the day, the horses enjoyed not only their drinking, but their wading through the rolling water.
This was the boundary between Bashan and Gilead, through the latter of which we had hitherto been travelling, and gave name to the great battle A.D. 637, where the victory obtained by the fierce Khalid and the mild Abu Obeidah decided the fate of Palestine, and opened the way of the Moslems to Jerusalem.
Over an extent of four or five miles, before reaching the Jordan, a rich harvest of wheat was being reaped upon the plain. We first attempted to cross at Samakh, but finding it impossible at that season, had to turn back to the ford at the broken bridge, which the natives call the ‘mother of arches,’ (Umm el Kanâter;) and even there the water was still deep.
Corn-fields and flocks of sheep in every direction; but all the shepherds carrying firearms. We most of us lay down on our breasts to drink greedily once more from the dear old river; and then we crossed the Jordan into the land of Canaan, going on to Tiberias, and passing on the way some Franciscan monks. What a change of associations from those of the country we had traversed exclusively for the last nine days!
How absurd the sudden and unexpected contrast from old ’Abdu’l ’Azeez and the brilliant young ’Ali Dëâb in the freedom of the desert, to the cowl and the convent of the monks—from the grand savage language of the Ishmaelite to the mellifluous Italian.
At the hot baths of the lake we found our tents already pitched, and my old friend the missionary—Thomson, from Bayroot—who had been travelling on the eastern side of the lake, (a territory so little known,) and, as he and I believed, had discovered the true Gadara. We compared notes about affairs of the Arabs at the time.
Several of the juvenile travellers set themselves to swimming before dinner at sunset, the huge hills at the back casting long shadows across the lake.
We all had tea together, as we were to separate to our several destinations in the morning; and on my retiring to sleep, the thermometer was at 99° Fahrenheit inside the open tent.
Saturday, 19th.—Bathing before the sun rose.
Our