Nazareth
Nazareth, March 14. — Just about sunrise, I set out for a walk, and climbed the hill immediately above the town, looking back, as I went up, to get a view of the scene. In twenty minutes I reached the summit; but to increase my elevation, I ascended to the top of the Moslem Weli (Weli Ismael), which is perched upon the summit. I looked first to the east, and saw the sun, rising over the hills of Galilee, throw Tabor (which seemed not far off in that direction) into relief against a somewhat misty sky. Under me was the town of Nazareth, with its girdling hills, — hills which the Lord must so often have climbed. To the south-east there was Ed-Duhi (little Hermon) and Jebel Jelbun (Gilboa) lying parallel to each other. Beyond these, to the right, or south-west, the range of Carmel, and the plain of Esdraelon; directly west, lay Carmel itself, with its bay and bold headland, apparently very near, and stretching away northward, the Mediterranean. Between was a beautifully undulating stretch of ground. To
c c
VIEW FROM THE HILL.
the north, were two long ranges of hills, while eastward of these towered the great Hermon, J ebel-es Sheikh, with its snows bright in the radiance of dawn. A little farther east, beyond the Sea of Galilee, rose the hills of Bashan. It was a memorable view, and as splendid as it was memorable. On all sides, I saw smoking villages, which no doubt represented old towns known in history. But I had no one to tell me their names. Descending from the Weli, I wandered over the hill-top, on which I found great quantities of daisies, red and white. I had been an hour and half upon the hill, and on reaching the foot saw a group of mourners at the burying-ground. They were sitting wailing over the dead, but several of them were interrupting the wail with talk and laughter. I visited the well of the village, in the hollow, not far from our tents, called, I believe, the Well of the Virgin. Whether this is an ancient name or not, it does not matter; the well is no doubt ancient, and has supplied the village in ages past. It may be the same well from which Mary drew, and out of which Jesus drank. In the neighbourhood was a “garden of herbs” and orchard, which seemed welWatered.
We breakfasted at eight; and afterwards I walked out, before starting, for another brief survey; but I observed nothing new, save a curious circle of mourners, I suppose round the grave of one just buried, for it differed from the usual routine of wailing. There was a large circle formed, chiefly of “women, — there might be fifty. In the centre of this there were two women dancing and chanting plaintively, with a long scarf in their right hands. They sung and danced, and threw aloft their arms, and waved the scarf up and down, and across; the crowd listening in silence. As I approached, the circle opened to admit me; so I stood for a little, and then left. In the course of ten minutes more, the whole band quitted the spot, marching, two and two, in procession past our tents into the town. They were all wearing their ordinary dresses.
At nine, we left Nazareth, ascending the hill to the north, and obtaining from it a last view of the town.* We then descended into a valley, — a very lovely glen, sprinkled over with the anemone, the cyclamen, the hyacinth, and the small yellow cassia. Here we started a gazelle, which bounded off to its native hills. We saw a village to the left, which Mr Huber, an agent of the Church Missionary Society, who accompanied us, called Sumah, but which a fellah whom we met called
* We did not visit the “Mount of Precipitation” as it is called, where ecclesiastical legend pretends to shew the place to which the Nazarenes led our Lord to cast him down from “the brow of the hill whereon their city was built.” It is at least a mile and half from the village, and very unlikely to have been the real spot. There were precipitous places behind the city, to which we were more inclined to affix our tradition of the scene, in opposition to that of the monks. Old travellers call the hill “Saltus Domini.” “About four arrow-shot without the sayd citye of Nazareth, towardes the south, is the place called Saltus Domini, in a mountayne, unto the top whereof the Jewes led our Savyoure Criste to have caste hym there downe; but they had no power to do so. And soone after he was founden at the fote of another mountayne thereby e, where yet the prynte of his holy stappes are sene.” — Pilgrimage of Syria, by Sir R. Guylforde, p. 51.
WILD GLEX.
El-Mahal. We then came to a very wild glen, covered with prickly oaks, of the largest size that we had seen, except Abraham’s tree. Many of them were cut or broken over, and presented a haggard appearance. On their broken stumps and projecting branches, eagles of several different kinds were sitting in great numbers. One of our party tried a shot at one of them; but his pistol burst, and we who stood at his side, were in greater danger than the bird of the forest, who, upon the report, slowly rose on wing, and betook himself to a more distant perch. As we moved along, we saw more of them; some nestling on their native oak, others hovering over us like hawks, others performing circles in all directions, not much alarmed at our presence, yet not willing to trust themselves too near. We seemed to be quite in a haunt of eagles. The presence of these fierce-eyed birds, the shaggy form of the vast rocks, the remains, here and there, of Bedawin fires, gave to this valley a savage and dreary aspect, which strikingly contrasted with the pleasant, cheerful hollow above, where Kazareth basks in the sunshine. Besides the shivered oaks, there were other forest-trees of different kinds, which, however, looked like shrubs or brushwood beside them. In some places, the glen was quite a jungle; nor should we have liked to traverse it at midnight. The wolf and the hyena, doubtless, as well as the eagle and the Bedawi, have their lair in its recesses. Some camels wrere feeding in one place, and a solitary herdsman was singing his morning song.
In five or ten minutes more, we came to a rough ascent. It was still a glen or ravine; but we were now moving upwards. Its sides were covered with stones and out-cropping rocks, overspread with large trees just coming into foliage. We had still the companionship of eagles, in scores, flying about us. After this we descended into a valley similar to the last; less savage, and more beautiful with trees and brushwood. This adjoins Tabor, the ascent of which we now commenced.
We did not go down into the plain, nor through the village of Deburieh, which lies at the southern base of the hill. We saw it, not far off; but we kept more to the north, and soon found ourselves upon a narrow, rugged path, which, over rocks and loose soil, through mazes of jungle, and under boughs of spreading oak, in endless zigzags, winds up the noble hill. For a considerable way up, we continued riding; but, towards the middle, the steepness increased, and we dismounted, some of us leaving our horses to follow at will; others driving them up before us. The animals are quite accustomed to this, and made no effort to run off. Nor did they seem to reckon the ascent a very heavy pull; for they went quite at their ease up all the narrow sinuosities of the path. One of them only, in attempting a short cut, fell and rolled over. In vain he struggled to recover himself. Down he went, rolling and struggling till caught by some trees. We thought of knees cut or bones broken; but he rose up in a moment,
VIEW FROM TABCTR.
shook himself, and recommenced his upward path, without a scar on any part. In about fifty minutes, from the foot, we reached less rugged ground; and it seemed as if the bulging sides of the mountain were subsiding into a level platform or ledge, going round part of the mountain-top, like a broad collar. This shelf was quite covered with grass, as well as trees; and at one part there seemed to be a small spring, or rivulet, for the grass was moist, and the soil spongy. In ten minutes more, we were on the broad summit; but as this is a kind of hollow, or, at least, a level surrounded with grass-grown, tree-covered ruins, like a fortification, we saw nothing at first, till we ascended the north-eastern part of these ruins, and took our seat upon the wall of some old tower or battlement.
The view from the top has so often been described, that I shall not linger over it. Yet it will bear reiterated description. It is as truly splendid as can be conceived, and, spreading out under the clear brightness of a Syrian noon, it lost nothing of extent or grandeur. All Galilee lay around; and this isolated mountain seemed its watch-tower. Safet, on its mountain-seat, with Lebanon rising behind it in the distance, and the snowy Hermon, the termination of Anti-Lebanus, on its right. This was the north. East and north-east were the “Mountain of Beatitudes,”* the hills of Bashan,
* So called in Latin tradition, because said to be the place where the “Blessings,” in the fifth chapter of Matthew; but the natives call it Kurun Hattin, the horns of Hattin, from its double summit.
and the Sea of Galilee, — the latter as blue and sunny as the sky above it. South and south-west were the plain of Esdraelon, with the villages of Endor and Nain. These were the chief objects on which the eye dwelt, though not all that the view comprised. We remained here for more than two hours, walking round the circumference in all directions, and marking not only the view in the distance, but the massive ruins which are still visible round the whole circle. These are probably of two kinds, Roman and Christian; for the Romans had here a fort, and the Christians, in after centuries, a church. Of the last, we saw a solitary representative in a monk, who had his dwelling apparently in some cell at the western corner, where he earns his livelihood by narrating legends, and pointing the remains of the three tabernacles which Peter wished to erect.
There is no proof that Tabor was the hill of Transfiguration. Ecclesiastical legend says so, but gives no reason; and even Jerome, when mentioning it as the transfiguration, interposes a doubt, which shews that in his day the tradition had not yet rooted itself very firmly, probably being then of recent date. The fact mentioned by J osephus, that a Roman fort occupied the top of the hill, is a strong presumption against the accuracy of the tradition, though it is not wholly conclusive. .But the gospel narrative itself furnishes the most decided evidence, that the transfiguration could not have taken place so far south as this. Our Lord was at
Caesarea Philippi immediately before it took place, (Matt. xvi. 1 3; Mark viii. 27), (nearly three days’ journey north of this), and the evangelists clearly indicate that the transfiguration-hill could not have been far off from that, for nothing seems to have intervened between his taking his disciples to that region and the scene upon “the holy mount,” After the transfiguration he comes south to Capernaum (Matt. xvii. 24; Mark ix. 33), as decidedly shewing that the place must have been somewhere north of Capernaurn and near Baneas. So that there are far stronger probabilities in favour of the Great Hermon as the holy mount than Tabor; and probably tradition might have preferred that hill had it been one which pilgrims could at all conveniently climb. At the same time I am doubtful as to whether Hermon could be the mountain, just because of its great height; it being by much the highest mountain in the whole of Palestine, and the region round about. The evangelists call the Mount of Transfiguration “a high hill ;3 but they call the Mount of Temptation “an exceeding high hill,”* from which we gather that the latter must have been higher than the former, which it could not be, if the former were Hermon. +
* opog u-sJ/jjXav. Matt. xvii. 1. ooog b-^/qKov Xtccv. Matt. iv. 8.
+ On what grounds, I know not, ecclesiastical tradition assigns Tabor as the mountain where Melchizedec dwelt, and from which he came forth to bless Abraham; so that here is another king’s dale rivalling that at Gerizim, if legends are to be proofs. The tradition may be found at full length in the works of Athanasius, vol. ii. p. 7, Coloniae, 1686. Salem, the mother of Melchizedec, orders him to go to Tabor. He goes, remains in the wood
TABOR A HILL Oh FAME.
But though it was not here that the Son of God was transfigured, yet Tabor is a noble mountain, with its crags, and oaks, and eagles, and, above all, with its far-stretching view. Besides, it is the authentic spot where mighty deeds have been done in ancient days. Barak was here, with the ten thousands of Naphtali and the children of Zebulon; and within sight of this Jabin’s army was smitten before Israel. Since that it has been the witness of many a conflict and many a victory, each one of which might have made a mountain famous. It may be said to stand up here as the boundary of the region on the south, just as Hermon rises as the limit on the north, the one the watch-tower of Zebulon, and the other of Dan. Hence they are joined together in singing creation’s responsive song of gladness, “Tabor and Hermon shall rejoice in thy name,” (Psa. lxxxix. ] 2).
About half-past two we began to descend, taking the same road as in the ascent. Safet, on the distant hill, was in our eye as we went down, gleaming out beautifully in the sunshine. The eagles are still on the wing in all directions; and one of them which had been poised motionless, far up in the sky, suddenly pounced upon its prey far down the hill, taking a swoop, as seemed to us, of not much less than a thousand feet in a moseven years, naked and exposed, till his back became like a snail’s shell, wtfs, dspfJsCi yO<j)V7y£. I need not tell the whole story. For the honour of Athanasius, I should hope that the above “History,” as it is called, is not a geuuine work. It indicates, however, an early ecclesiastical tradition, which gives Tabor equal claims with Gerizim in being the Moriah of Abraham.
KHAN TIT JAR.
ment. Having got down into the valley, we turned northwards into a richly wooded glen, smiling in fresh verdure, as if all summer were upon it. Windinground the shoulder of a low height we passed out into more open country. We soon came to a Khan or ruined fort, with the relics of a towTn or village near. Here a weekly market is held, which we were told draws crow7ds together from various villages, far and near, Nazareth and Tiberias contributing their buyers and sellers. Not one human face was to be seen here to-day, nor one human voice to be heard The name of the Khan is Tujar* We next reached the village of Lubieh on a small eminence. There wras nothing remarkable about it, so we did not linger, but passed through at its northern extremity. From Lubieh we
* An old Book of Travels (1600) calls this “Ain-el-Tyger.” “All the way (from the Mount of Beatitudes) which we travelled this day was very pleasant, and all the ground, both hills and vales, very fruitful, according as it is described by Moses (Deut. viii. 7, 8). And we came that day about two of the clock to a village called, in the Arabic tongue, Ain-el-Tyger, that is, by interpretation, the merchant’s eye, where there are two very fair castles for travellers to lodge in, from danger of wild Arabs, who abound in these parts. We took up our lodging at the nearest castle, which is the fairest.” Travels of foure Englishmen, p. 89. Pliny Fisk gives a different name, “We arrived at Khamsook, a market town. Here are two old castles, and here the merchants of Nazareth, the people of the villages, and the Arabs from the mountains, hold a fair every Monday, When we arrived, we found about 1000 persons assembled,” Memoirs, p. 315. As this book abounds in misspelt names, I suppose that Khan Sook is meant; sook being the Arab word for market, and Khan the usuai word denoting inn. As Tujar or Tajar means merchant, and sook market, either of the two names may be in use, as denoting the same thing. descended into the valley, which seemed fruitful and well-watered. From this we began our ascent of the long slope of the hill which overhangs Tiberias. The ascent is gradual, and the road good; while the hills which we had quitted lay behind us, lovely in their fresh green, with endless hillocks, and undulations, and verdant steeps, in whose hollows the shadows were lying deep, while on their heights the declining sun was shining softly. As w7e rode up the slope a party met us, “making inquisition for blood,” (Psa. ix. 12). A man had been murdered, and the relations were in quest of the man-slayer; not to arrest him, and bring him to trial, but to kill him on the spot, A little boy, the son of the slain man, accompanied them, for in him lay the right of avenging his father’s death. Here was the ancient Ooel, or avenger of blood, still perpetuated from Israel’s days. We were reminded that “vengeance,” according to Scripture, is a sacred thing, and that the “avenger,” in seeking recompence for blood, was fulfilling a divine commission. That Christians should be enjoined to forego this, and leave the execution of this awful offence to God himself, is no proof of its being wrong in itself. The gospel does not cancel rights of citizenship and the like; it merely asks us to forego them till the Lord come.
At half-past five we reached the longed-for height, and in the twinkling of an eye the whole of the Sea of Galilee was before us, the town of Tiberias at our feet. The eastern side of the hill is as steep and precipitous
MOONLIGHT ON THE LAKE.
as its western is gentle in ascent. The town looked well from this point, almost projected into the lake, and there were our tents not two hundred yards south of it, and within half a stone’s cast of the water! How fair this sunset upon such a sea. What a ceiling, and what a floor! Less than half an hour brought us down the rugged road to our tents; and as there still remained but little of day, I lost no time in plunging into the blue waves before us.
We have passed out of Zebulon, in which Nazareth lies, into Naphtali, of which, perhaps, the southern border was near Tiberias. “Satisfied with favour and full with the blessing of the Lord” (Deut. xxxiii. 23), he sat down by the margin of this bright sea. Here, from the thick woods or steep rocks around, the “hind of Naphtali” came down to drink of waters, which even in such a drought as that in Ahab’s days, would not fail,
After evening worship, about nine o’clock, I went out in the moonlight, and walked a considerable way down the margin of the lake. What a scene! The gloomy cliffs above, and the soft but solemn sea at my side! The dim outline of the mountains on the western side, with the Bedawin fires twinkling at their feet. Away to the north-east, the snows of Hermon, some forty miles off, gleaming in the moonshine! All round, perfect peace, broken only by the small ripple of the sea, as some breeze went by, or the casual tinkle of the bell attached to some of the horses which were grazing not far off. What moonlight like this had I ever had before? The Son of God had been here, and that lake was the silent witness of his wondrous grace. It was not Olivet alone, that had been his moonlight resort for prayer. Here, no doubt, he had often been, and just at such an hour as this!
Sea of Galilee, Saturday, March 15. — I rose before the sun, resolved to see him come up over these old hills. The lake had taken on its first gleam, but that was all. It lay before me in profoundest stillness, as if preparing for sunrise, though the snows of Hermon had not yet caught the dayspring. I waited, and the sky soon threw off its paleness, and the lake its shadows. Suddenly a pencil, or rather a sheaf of rays, shot up behind the eastern hills,” the country of the Gadarenes then rapidly the bold sun came up and shed his new brilliance over the lake, tracing out for himself a path of gold across its breadth. The whole circle of hills and slopes was lighted up as with the flush of noon. I walked on to the hot baths, which are contained in a large but shabby building, little more than a mile to the south of the town. I bathed, and found the water very hot. I had not my thermometer writh me, but I should suppose that the heat could not be less than 98°. The hot-spring that supplies these baths, comes from the base of the mountain. I then continued my walk for a considerable time, and shortly betook myself to the lake for a cold bath, which I fou*>~ ex-SAIL ON THE LAKE.
ceedingly refreshing. The cold bath was free, but for the hot, I paid half a piastre, or little more than a penny.
After breakfast we prepared for a sail upon the lake. There is one boat on it, and this, we and our American friends, had engaged last night, A little after ten we saw it pulling up to our tents, with two fishermen in it, who might have been John and James, or Andrew and Peter, coming ashore with their morning draught, or to mend their nets. For easier embarkation, we went to the old tower which overhangs the water at a considerable angle, where the broken masses of stone, heaved into the lake by the earthquake of 1838, form a sort of pier, or at least a series of stepping-stones. We pushed off without delay, keeping to the north-east for a considerable way to get a view of the opposite shore. As we sailed off, the town of Tiberias itself first caught our eye. In spite of its cliffs, and lake, and palms, it looks poor and shattered, and not all the lively sunshine which now rested on it, could mitigate its forlorn aspect.* The northern shore was quite distinct, and the vast ruins of Tell Hum struck our eye. It must have been no ordinary city that has left such ruins. Part of them are on the slope that goes up from the lake, and so more visible. They look like numerous heaps of stones
* There are four or five palm-trees in or about the town. They are not very remarkable, but still an ornament. The disappearance of the trees round the lake is not surprising; but the absence of ruins is most unaccountable, considering the numerous cities which girdled it. What has become of the stones ] or debris from this distance, but still they indicate the site of a great town. North-eastward of them, far in the distance, the great Hermon rose, with all noon upon its snowy summit, but with shadows below, dark wreaths of cloud coiling across its majestic steeps.* To the north-west, Safet looked down upon us from its mountain-seat. It seemed to lie on one of the high slopes of the hill, from which part of it stretched up to a higher, running up amid a forest of olives to the castle on the summit.
Keeping still an eastward course for some miles, we got an excellent view of the country. It is bare and uncultivated. The sides of the hills are steep and rugged, but the line of the ridge at its summit is remarkably even and continuous, like the top of a wall, without a slack or break for a long way. The boatmen told us that this coast is called” the Wilderness of the North f-f but I could not catch the Arabic words. This
* No one who has looked upon the placid majesty of that noblest of Syrian mountains, the Lebanon of Lebanon, will be at any loss to understand the figure
“His countenance is as Lebanon,” (Song of Sol. v. 15). Look at it far off or near, in moonlight or sunshine, at daybreak, or sunset, or noon, from the southern hills of Ephraim, or the nearer plains of Issachar, or the yet nearer heights of Naphtali; look at it from Esdraelon or from Tabor, from some distant watch-tower of the west, or from the slope of Banias on which it seems to rest its base, it is still the same noble mountain, visible everywhere, and everywhere strangely attractive, keeping watch over the land, and making you feel not so much as if you were looking upon it, but as if it were looking upon you.
t The whole region is said to retain its ancient name of Gaulonitis, in the modern Jaul an.
SCENES W THE LOED’s HISTORY.
must be the wilderness mentioned by the evangelist, (Luke ix. 10), “the desert place belonging to the citycalled Bethsaida,” into which the Lord took the apostles apart from the multitude. It may be the same as that mentioned again, “he withdrew himself into the wilderness and prayed,” (Luke v. 1 6). If so, then one of these mountains before us must be the mountain into which he withdrew himself to pray, (Matt. xiv. 23; Mark vi. 46). It is bare and wild; but not barer nor wilder than must any place in this unholy earth have appeared to One who had just left his Father’s holy heaven. It is certainly not the “mountain of myrrh,” nor the “hill of frankincense” (Cant. iv. 6), but it lies on the way to these. For “through death to life” is the law of the kingdom. The desert was Israel’s way to Canaan.
Somewhere in the neighbourhood of these hills must have been the spot where Christ fed the multitude (Matt, xiv. 15; Mark vi. 36; Luke ix. 12). For that place was evidently not far from the mountain to which he afterwards retired. It was evening when he fed them, and there was no time for him to go to any distance. Immediately on feeding them he sends the multitude away, puts his disciples into a boat, to cross the lake and so shorten their passage to the other side (to which he was coming in the morning), then goes alone to pray, till near the fourth watch of the night (that is, after three o’clock). This helps to fix the spot so far. But there is a reference in John’s narrative, which, besides that of Luke (ix. 10), brings the place to the vicinity of Bethsaida. When J esus saw the multitude coming, he spoke to Philip about procuring food from the adjoining villages; * now Philip was of Bethsaida 33 (John i. 44), and therefore could at once answer his question. The question would not have been put to Philip, nor could Philip have answered, had not Bethsaida, his native town, been nigh at hand.
We now sailed southwards, still keeping to the east coast.* Nearly opposite Tiberias, but a little to the north, we saw a deep valley running eastward through the mountains. This our men called Wady esh-Shemak, the valley of the fishes, for what reason we
* I was afterwards informed by Mr Thomson of Sidon, who had recently traversed this region, and whose knowledge both of the country and its language gave him great facilities in picking up information, that nearly opposite Mejdel (Magdala), or just about opposite where we turned south, there is a place called by the natives Girza which Mr T. supposes to be a corruption of Gergesene. Here there is a sharp sloping precipice of perhaps 2000 feet high. This is the “steep place” (jcptj/xvoD) Matt. viii. 32; Mark v. 13; Luke viii. 33. Mark and Luke say it was in the country of the Gadarenes, and we know that Gadara (eight miles from Tiberias according to Josephus, Life, 65) must have been farther south. But the term Gadarene may be a wide one, and besides, the reading in Mark and Luke is a very doubtful one; the mass of evidence preponderates in favour of Gerasene instead of Gadarene.
f This is, I suppose, the Wady Sammeh mentioned by Seetzen. Here he found “a tolerably deep river, which in summer is completely dry.” — Brief Account of the Countries adjoining the Lake of Tiberias, &c. p. 19. He travelled in 1805 and 1806. To the north of this, and not far from the place where Jordan joins the lake, Seetzen mentions a village called Tallanihie, which he conjectures to be the ancient Julias, where he found ’ a rich plain and many olive-trees, p. 19.
Dd
SOUTHERN COAST.
could not learn. Near this, but a little farther down, we saw Wady ¥%k, with the small village of that name. This is probably the Apheh near which Benhadad was smitten by Ahab (1 Kings xx. 26-30). It is not to be confounded with Aphek in Lebanon (Josh. xiii. 4), nor with the Aphek of Esdraelon (1 Sam. xxix. 1). A little farther down, are the ruins of an old castle, supposed to be that of Gamala, of which Josephus frequently speaks as ojpposite Tarichea.* Its present name is Kalat el Hosn, or the Castle of Hosn. It is said to have taken its name from the resemblance of the hill to a camel’s back; but of this we observed nothing, t Very near the bottom of the lake lies the village of Sumrah, mentioned by Burckhardt, and supposed to be the Hippos of Josephus. As we neared the southern extremity of the lake, the most conspicuous object was the village of es-Semakh quite at the southern angle of the lake, and about three miles from Sumrah. From the distance at which we now saw it, there was not the shabby appearance which its mud-houses are said to give it. It is a Moslem village, but said to contain a few Greek Christians. We now turned our prow westward, and made for the shore at the ruins of Kerak, the
* See Dr Kitto’s Land of Promise, p. 281. Josephus tells us that “Gamala was a city over against Tarichea, on the other side of the lake” (J. W. iv. 1. 1).
f Mr Thomson of Sidon had visited it, and mentioned the hill as being 1100 feet high. The Castle measured 760 paces from S. E. to N. W., and was about half that in breadth.
Tarichea of Josephus. * Our first employment was to bathe; by which we were greatly refreshed. Afterwards we wandered about among the ruins. They are mere ruins, though extensive, not presenting anything which can be called a relic of this once important place. The ruins occupy an eminence of no great height, but yet sufficient to overlook the water. It cannot be called a commanding situation, yet it is one which would render a town formidable, if not impregnable, in ancient times. The different mounds of debris mark the extent of the town; and their height above the lake shews how easily Josephus could make the ditch or trench, leading from the house of the nobles, to the lake,t by means of which he and others secretly left the town and sailed over to Hippos, which was nearly opposite. In walking over these mounds, it is not easy to realize the extent of the city, nor to see how 30,000 could have taken refuge within its walls. § The place is now deserted, and we saw no one nigh. But the busy crowds of fishermen had been here, and. by them it would seem
* Sectzen gives the native name as El-Malaha or Ard-el-Malaha (salt region),” which is synonymous with the Greek name of Taricheae,,, (Brief Account, p. 21). He mentions a considerable space round as without vegetation, which in summer is covered with salt, p. 22.
f See his life, Sect 31. d/otPvyci ftoiqtfccg, is his expression.
+ em TTjV (JjzQopiov tojv Ittrivtov, the frontiers of the Hippenians, shewing that Hippos did not lie quite on the margin of the lake.
§ Writing of Cassius’ occupation of Syria, Josephus says, “as he returned to Tyre, he went up to Judea also, and fell upon Tarichea, and took it, carrying captive 30,000 Jews.” Antiq. xiv. 7, 3.
ROMAN BUTCHERY.
that the city was originally founded.* Here, the Roman armies had been, swarming up these low heights to overwhelm the city. Here, in the midst of the city, Vespasian set up a judgment-seat, from which issued the orders for a massacre, the most unprovoked and savage that ever dishonoured the Roman name. Twelve hundred grey-haired Jews were butchered in” the stadium six thousand of the strongest youths of Tarichea were bound and sent off to Nero to be employed in digging through the Isthmus; the remainder, amounting to thirty thousand four hundred, were sold for slaves! Poor Taricheans! With what exterminating fury the sword of Rome swept through your streets! How fearfully did the fourth great beast of Daniel, with its iron teeth, devour, and with its nails of brass, tread down the God-forsaken land (Dan. vii. 7-19). The blood is dried up, the groans of the slain and the captive have ceased, the lake is calm, the Roman has departed, the Jew has no dwelling here; but these mounds of ruin remain as the monuments of one of the most flourishing cities which Galilee contained, in an age when it swarmed with a busy population.
In a little we embarked again, and proceeded upwards very pleasantly for a little, with sail and oar. We wTere quite within sight of our tents, and in twTenty minutes more we expected to be ashore, in good time to visit the Jewish synagogue ere their Sabbath was over.
* Supposing that the name comes from the Greek ^a%0r» Tarichea must have been the fish-curers’ village. Suidas, Lex. vol. iii. p. 431.
Suddenly a rough ripple came along the sea, the wind rose, and getting round nearly to the north, staid our progress. We tried to beat up, but in vain. We thought to make for the shore by “toiling and rowing, for the wind was contrary and some of our party, not relishing the laziness of the boatmen, laid hold of the oar, and plied it vigorously. It snapped; and the flat of the oar floated away irrecoverably. With one oar, how could we pull against such a wind, and such a sea as was now rising and sending its spray over us? We had still our sail, clumsy as it was, so we hoped to make way, and land, though it might be far down. But a squall swept by, and our poor cotton sail (for it was not canvas) went in pieces. Still our mast stood, which we rather wondered at; so we left the cotton rags to flutter in the breeze, and perhaps to help us on a little faster, for all that remained for us now was to drift before the wind to the foot of the lake. Our boat was crazy enough, but I don’t think there was much danger; and even though our craft had foundered, or had leaked more than it really did, the “swim” did not seem a very formidable one, — considerably less than the night achievement of the youth of Abydos. There was, however, one real bit of peril connected with this going before the wind; we might be driven ashore on the western coast, and a visit to Aphelc, or Qamala, or Hippos, would hardly compensate for being plundered by the bands of marauding Bedawin, who infest that region, and whose fires we had seen last night twinkling
LANDING AT SEMAKH.
at the base of the hills. Our efforts were now directed to avert this evil. We must be drifted to some part of the lake; but by means of our helm and one remaining oar, we might continue to avoid the west, and to hit the shore somewhere about the village of Semakh. On we went, at the mercy of the breeze, which was gradually, in spite of our exertions, working us nearer and nearer to the opposite coast. At last, however, we found ourselves nearing the shore, and, by “the good hand of our God upon us,” we landed safely a little to the westward of the village. He who once said here, H Peace, be still,” and “there was a great calm,” did not interpose to calm the waves; but he so ordered everything as that no evil befel us.
Landing close by Semakh, we get a passing view of the village. But as it is on a slight elevation, and as we had no time to spare, we merely saw it from the shore. A few of its inhabitants gathered round us, wondering, but civil. We had now to consider what we were to do. For not only had we a long walk before us, but we had Jordan to cross; and it was now nearly five o’clock. Unexpectedly, we had been transported westward of the river; but this enabled us to set foot on the territories of Gad, and of the half-tribe of Manasseh, which otherwise we should not have visited. We could not tell the depth of the Jordan at its exit from the lake. All we knew, was that some of our -party, this afternoon, had swum across it, when we were resting at Kerak. Among the villagers who came now to visit us, was a mounted Arab. The thought immediately occurred, let us get this man to shew us the ford, and to carry us over. He at once agreed, and we set off for the ford, which was about three quarters of a mile from Semakh, and is just below the place where the lake becomes the J ordan. We soon reached the spot, and the Arab halted his steed to take us up behind. I soon mounted, and the Arab putting spurs to his charger, plunged in. A few yards brought us into deep water. The river was over our saddle-bow. He had missed the ford! The horse was just about to swim. This was hardly safe, with two upon his back and in such a current. Turning sharply round, the Arab regained the shore, and after looking about him a little, he plunged in again, a yard or two farther down. We were soon in deep water again, and over the saddle. But we had reached the middle of the stream, and had passed the worst. So we pushed on and were speedily on the other side, soaking, of course, but quite safe. The horseman returned for the party, who, warned by my wetting, disencumbered themselves of as many garments as possible before starting, and each one in turn was thus ferried safely over. While I was watching the process from the shore, I saw one of our American friends boldly strip, and carrying clothes and gun aloft above his head, enter the stream a little above where we were. He was successful; though the force of the current, and still more the large stones over which Jordan rolls, and which form the bed of the south-MOONLIGHT WALK UP THE LAKE.
western margin of the lake, threatened more than once to upset him.
It was now about six o’clock, and we had a walk of four miles before us, over a rough and narrow path.* There was still twilight, however, and the moon was rising. A walk in our chill state was the best thing for us. We set off at once; taking, however, the precaution of sending on our Arab horseman both to proclaim our safety to our friends, (for three had staid behind), and to send our horses to meet us. Tearing a leaf out of my note-book, I wrote a sentence in pencil, and gave it to him, that there might be no mistake. Our American friends did the same, and our messenger, taking both notes, put them, not into his pocket, for an Arab does not know that convenience, but into his bosom, and set off. We followed, and had no difficulty in finding our way, as the lake on the one side, and the hills on the other, prevent any one from straying. Though we were tired and hungry, yet the scene was so beautiful, that we soon forgot all our discomforts, and thought ourselves rather fortunate in meeting with such an adventure, and closing the day with a moonlight walk, by the margin of such a lake.
About half a mile from our tents, we were met by our horses. Our messenger, being an Arab, could not be in
* Josephus tells us that Tarichaea was thirty stadia from Tiberias (Life, sect. 32), or upwards of three miles; and we were about a quarter of a mile from Tarichaea. We found his statement very accurate; a little under the mark, as it seemed to us. But our peculiar circumstances, perhaps, made the way seem longer than it really is. a hurry. He had taken rather a leisurely ride from the time he left us, and so had not arrived in time to be of much service, either in relieving the anxieties of our friends, or in sending on our horses. But it did not matter. About half-past seven we were comfortably seated in our tents at our homely board (for it was literally a board, not a table), enjoying the fellowship of our friends, and relating to them all the marvels of the day. They had been rather uneasy about us, seeing the storm, and knowing the perils of the eastern coast. With a psalm of thanksgiving we closed the day, and went to rest shortly after ten. Ere doing so, I looked out for a few minutes upon the lake. The wind had left it, and there was not a ripple on its face. How tranquil!
All things are calm, and fair, and passive. Earth
Looks as if lulled upon an angel’s lap,
Into a breathless dewy sleep; so still,
That we can only say of things, they be!
The lakelet now, no longer vexed with gusts,
Replaces on her breast the pictured moon
Pearled round with stars. Sweet imaged scene of time,
To come perchance, when this vain life o’erspent,
Earth may some purer beings’ presence bear;
Mayhap even God may walk among his saints
In eminence and brightness like yon moon,
Mildly outbeaming all the beads of light,
Strung o’er night’s proud, dark brow.
And to-morrow is the day of rest; the day which
speaks of resurrection as well as rest. We are to cele-A SABBATH IN GALILEE.
brate resurrection amid scenes where the risen One has been
O caritas! O Veritas!
O lux perennis! En erit,
Post tot labores, ut tuo
Tandem fruamur Sabbato!
It is something more than pleasant, to think of a Sabbath by the Sea of Galilee.
Sea of Galilee, Sabbath, March 16. — Went out about sunrise to sit by the margin of the lake, down towards the hot-baths. The sun came up over the eastern hills, and the day began. The Lake was bright gold, Hermon pure silver; all was still, not a trace of yesterday’s breeze. Our boat had crept up the lake during the night, and was now nearly opposite the baths; the men, having mended their oar, were rowing her up close by the shore. This was the only sign of life on sea or land, nor was there a sound save the slight dash of the oar. The morning was cool, but not chill; and the sun, though cloudless, was not yet keen enough to make one long for shade. Sitting on one of the large stones which line the margin of this part of the lake, and reading the sacred story of the days when the Son of God was here, I passed the two freshest hours of morning. The remembrance of them is peace.
We breakfasted at half-past eight, and at half-past twelve we went out, some four or five hundred yards up the acclivity behind our tents, to have worship. Our congregation amounted to ten; our four American fellow-travellers, five of ourselves, and Mr Huber, the lay agent of the Church Missionary Society, who had accompanied us from Nazareth. There ought to have been another, for one of the servants whom our dragoman had brought with him from Jerusalem, was a Christian J ew, J ohn David by name, a pleasant obliging man. But he only knew a few words of English, so he did not join us. The place that we had selected was an old ruin, that seemed once to have been a castle. Its eastern wall, still standing, gave us shelter from the heat of noon. Having been chosen to conduct the service, I took my place at a projecting ledge that ran along the lower part of the wall. The congregation gathered round, some on the scanty grass, some on broken projections of the wall, some on the stones that lay around. We sung our psalm, and kneeled down on the bare ground. I took for exposition the Lord’s words, (Matt, xi. 28), spoken somewhere in this neighbourhood, “Come unto me, all ye that labour, and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” The cities to whose inhabitants he spoke them lay before me, — Chorazin, Capernaum, Bethsaida, — mere ruins! The words of grace seemed full of meaning, but even more so did the words of warning, — the woes uttered against the unbelief of the multitudes. It was pleasant to proclaim the words of love in the hearing of these old hills, and of that lake which had heard them at first, “I will give you rest,” And it was strangely solemn to repeat the threat of woe, and pointing to the ruins of Capernaum, to say,” And thou
SABBATH EVENING.
Capernaum, which art exalted to heaven, shall be cast down to hell,” The invitation seemed to come to us overflowing with new grace, and the warning loaded with a deeper, truer sadness than ever before.
We dined at three, and spent some time after it in listening to some old hymns, and to some choice parts of the Pilgrim’s Progress, Mr Beddome being the reader. The hymns lost nothing of their antique richness, nor the Pilgrim ought of his quaint keen truth, by being read by the Sea of Tiberias.*
About six I went out, and sat upon the shore. The sun had not set, but had left the lake. The eastern hills were still radiant, and the evening as it came down upon the lake, brought with it a mellow softness, quite in harmony with the hour and the day. A slight breeze once and again woke up the ripple, and threw motion into the level stillness of the waters; but, otherwise, all was profoundly peaceful. The shadows gradually deepened; but the moon was up, and those stars which were too bright for her to hide, came out one by one in the blue above, strewing their sparkles over the unbroken and almost undimpled sea.
* Mrs Hemans says somewhere, —
The hymns the learn’d crusaders sang
Have died in Galilee.
The crusaders in general were not burdened with learning, and I know not the hymns which they sang, or whether they sang any in Galilee, though they did so in Jerusalem. But supposing that they did so, we were resolved not to let the old hymns die, nor to bo behind our crusading forefathers in their melodies.
Perhaps we err in thinking that the Son of God sought these shores because of their silent peacefulness. They are tranquil now. The splash of oars is not heard on the waters, and the tread of man’s steps sounds not over these round stones and tiny shells. But eighteen hundred years ago, it was wholly different. As Tyre and her daughter-cities covered the whole western sea-plain; so did Capernaum and hers encircle the whole lake of Chinnereth. The population of this district in these days is almost incredible. The least of the Galilean villages numbered fifteen thousand dwellers. Our Lord’s dwelling at Capernaum, and his frequent visits to the district, are explained by this fact. Nowhere in the land could he have such a field. When he wanted solitude he had, as in Jerusalem, so here, to choose the mountain and the midnight. The hills of Bethsaida wrere to him in Galilee, what the Mount of Olives was in Judea. His silent life was at Nazareth, his busy life at Gennesaret, his death at Jerusalem. The sacrifice was not offered here, but not the less was this the wTay to the altar. From this he goes up to Jerusalem to die; and to this he returns when the death had paid the ransom, and the blood “shed for many, for the remission of sins,” had opened for us the new and living way into the holiest, (Heb. x. 1 9). AVe look at this placid lake, and remember the life of the Son of God; but we are recalled in a moment to his death. For why wras it that he so suddenly disappeared from these coasts? It was that he might die; and wThy did he return after this
MUSINGS BY THE LAKE.
brief but mysterious interval, in which he had visited not merely Gethsemane and Golgotha, but THE grave? It was that he might shew himself as the resurrection and the life. We cannot separate his life from his death, Galilee from Jerusalem, nor attempt to compare the one with each other, as if the former were more attractive, more precious, than the latter. The scenes of Galilee may speak to the heart; but those of J erusalem to the conscience; and the tender love which the former unfold to us would be nothing without the righteous pardon which the latter reveals.
How long I sat here I know not. But such a scene one is loath to leave. The eye is not satisfied with seeing; nor does the memory tire in recalling the words spoken, and the deeds done, eighteen centuries ago on this shore. The people that sat in darkness then saw a great light; but that light passed away, and there is thick darkness now. What a region this will be when that light returns; and the voice speaks to Galilee as to Jerusalem,
Arise, shine, for the light is come!
And the glory of Jehovah has risen upon thee.
Sea of Galilee, Monday, March 17. — Rose at half past five, and went out to walk and to bathe. The sun came up while I was dressing, the sun of a Syrian dawn, cloudless, with only a thin mist over the sky, which an hour’s sunshine would evaporate. A native passed me, apparently looking for bait along the shore, giving me a civil salutation in Italian. Shortly after, having completed my dressing, I missed my soap which I had been using. Having looked about for it in vain, I thought that perhaps this Arab might have picked it up. I soon overtook him, and mustered a few Italian words to the effect that I had lost my soap, and that he must have picked it up when he passed me. He told me that he had not; and he emptied the bag which he was carrying, to shew me its contents. Seeing me still incredulous, he grasped his beard, and protested by it, that he had not the missing article, offering to go back with me and seek for it. We went to the spot, and after some search, found it almost hidden between some stones. He smiled at the discovery, and, with a piastre to comfort him, went away cheerful, not by any means affronted at my suspicion of his honesty. For a little I busied myself in gathering the small shells with which the shore abounds. They look more like salt-water inhabitants than fresh-water; but there they are; the solitary dwellers among these round stones. For no other shell, of any kind or size whatever, could we find here. They are not bigger than a pea.
I then sat down upon a large stone, close by the water’s edge, and read the thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth chapters of Matthew. These parables belonged to this region; and may have been spoken on this very spot. To read Milton under Milton’s mulberry at Cambridge, or Homer on the plains of Troy, would not be thought mere sentimentalism; so, to read Christ’s parables amid the very objects on which they
JEWISH BUKYING-GROUND.
were founded, and by the lake which heard them, need not be condemned as romantic. There is something better than superstition in the wish to read Chrysostom at Constantinople, or Athanasius at Alexandria; so there is something better still in the longing to read the Decalogue on Sinai, the Psalms on Mount Zion, the Song of Solomon at Urtass, the Apocalypse on Patmos, the last prophecy of Christ on the Mount of Olives, and His parables by the Lake of Gennesaret.
More than once we strolled through the Jewish burying-ground, which lay behind our tents. It is confusedly covered with tombstones, almost all of them having Hebrew inscriptions. They are not rough blocks like those at Hebron or in the of valley Jehoshaphat; nor have they been hewn for the occasion; but consist of the broken pillars and architectural ornaments of old Tiberias. Here lie the Rabbies of the famous college, whose members for a time seem to have monopolised the learning of Judaism. Whether the body of Ittai, the Arbelite, often mentioned in Rabinnical story, was brought down to this from his native hills, up yonder, as was that of Maimonides from Egypt, we do not know; but beneath these marble fragments, which are strewed around, lies many a broad forehead, whose learning, had it been classical instead of J ewish, would have won for its owner no inferior name.
We struck our tents at half-past eight, and commenced a new day’s journey, invigorated by our Sabbath-rest. Our way lay round the town, so that we got a different view of it, from any that these three days past had given us. It looked well from the westward eminence, over which our road lay, its white towers and houses gleaming hotly in the sunshine, and its few palms standing out in the silver of the lake, unshaken by a breath. Our road was rough; indeed it is not a road, but a mere path winding through the out cropping rocks of the slope, with verdure here and there. In about an hour we came to Mejdel, the ancient Magdala, the native town of Mary Magdalene. Early superstition, in order to magnify the grace of penitence, and get up an interesting object for painters to delineate, and sentimentalists to sigh over, has loaded her with sins which do not belong to her, and even Protestants join in the defamation of the innocent, so that Magdalene and sinner have become synonymous.* Had Magdala been like Nazareth, of evil fame for the wickedness of its citizens, the untruthfulness would not be so great. But there is no ground for thinking that this was the case; and Mary the Magdalene, means just Mary of Magdala, to mark her out from the other Marys that waited on the Lord. Many such distinctive epithets we find: Lazarus of Bethany, Philip of Bethsaida, Judas of Carioth, Nathaniel of Cana, and above all, Jesus of Nazareth. The village of Mejdel is small and poor, the shabbiest that we had seen in the land, quite like one of those Egyptian mud-hamlets which
* So we sometimes have in the works of our Reformers “lollardie” used for heresy; long use having associated the words Lollard and heretic.
E e
MAGDALA AND TIBERIAS.
we had passed in the* train, between Alexandria and Cairo. Yet in earlier days, it must have been a town of some size, with its tower or castle, as its name imports.* Its situation is a fine one. Higher than Tiberias, yet not on a hill; with mountains close at hand, yet not hemmed in by them, it stands at the commencement of the rich plain of Gennesaret, which sweeps round the north-western bend of the lake. In former times, the two cities of Tiberias and Magdala must have almost met each other; the former coming farther to the north, and the latter running down much farther to the south, than now appears from the ground between them. The statements of the Rabbies make it pretty clear that Magdala went so far south, that the inhabitants of its southern parts could go through Tiberias, to Hammath (the village of the warm baths) on a Sabbath-day. -J- At present the distance between Mejdel and the warm baths is twice a Sabbath-day’s journey. So close was Tiberias then to Magdala, that on
* The chaplain of Sir R. Guylford, in 1506, speaks of this castle. “Three leagues from Bethulia, not far from Jordan, is the castle called Magdahis, whereof Mary Magdalene was lady, not far from the sepulchre of Job.” — Pylgrimage, p. 51. Antonio del Castillo (1654) speaks of this castle, (i Junto de aqui esta tambien el Castillo Uamado Magdalo, por ser de la Madalena,” p. 321. I suspect, however, that these old writers meant some place nearer the head of the lake.
+ An aged shepherd came and said in the presence of the Rabbi, “I remember that the people of Magdala used to go up to Hammath, and walk through the whole of Hammath (on the Sabbath), going to the farthest street, even to the bridge.” — Erubhim, quoted by Lightfoot in his Centuria Cherograpbica, p. 140.
one occasion when Simeon Ben-Jochi was purifying the former, on account of some shambles erected there, the voice of the accompanying scribe was heard in the latter, saying, “Behold, Bar-Jochi purifies Tiberias,”
We did not observe the ruins which are said to exist,* as we did not examine the ground particularly, but we saw the caverns in the adjoining rocks. That which now struck us was the broadening of the land into a spacious plain. Hitherto the steep sides of the western cliffs, coming down almost to the edge of the lake, had left little room for cultivation, but now the hills retire and leave level ground for a considerable extent. This is the ancient “plain of Gennesareth,” the present A rdh el-Mejdel, one of the richest nooks of Palestine.*)- We were now in the latitude of Mount Carmel, and could we have looked westward over these hills we should have seen its long high ridge. Half way between it and us we should have seen Cana of Galilee (John ii. 1), now Kana el J alii. And had our time allowed us to climb that hill to the left, we -should have come upon Jrbid, supposed to be the Arbela of Josephus, and the Beth-Arbel of Scripture (Hos. x. 14), just a mile or two from us. And up Wadi Hamam, whose stream helps to water this plain of Gennesaret, we should have seen the old stronghold Kalat Ibn Maan, a a most extraordinary
He “We observed some indications of ancient ruins, both of walls and foundations.” Dr Wilson, Lands of the Bible, vol. ii. p. 136.
t See Narrative of Mission to the Jews, p. 286. Josephus makes it thirty stadia (y miles) in length, by twenty (2J-) broad, J. W. iii. 10, 8.
excavated fort,”* After leaving Mejdel we kept nearer to the shore, and rode along a beach of the smoothest, brightest sand, which we had ever seen. As we had bathed already, we did not think of dismounting to do so again; but to keep our horses fetlock-deep in the clear sunny water, as we moved slowly onwards, was of itself refreshing. Here and there the tortoises were sitting at the water-edge basking in the sun, so like the stone or stump which formed their seat, that one did not at first recognise them. They were of all sizes, some as small as an orange, others as large as a pumpkin. They would allow us to approach, but dropped into the water as we passed, and hobbled away. Once or twice we struck up from the sandy beach into the green jungle of oleanders, that fringed the margin. They were not yet in flower, but one or two were beginning to shew blossom, as if on purpose to let us know wdiat fields of waving purple this shore will present a month hence. Our view of the lake enlarged at every step, the whole stretch of its sixteen miles coming fully before the eye, — one long quivering gleam of sunshine. For more than an hour we continued our way along the border of the plain of Gennesareth, which, though untrimmed and waste, gave evidence of well-watered fruitfulness. In beauty, grandeur, richness, and genial softness of climate, no spot of Greece or Persia could surpass this.
* Lands of the Bible, vol. ii. p. 138. It seems to be of this that J ewish writers speak, a Sabbath-way west of Tiberias stands J/ao?i.” See Zunz on the Geography of Palestine, from Jewish sources, quoted in Asher’s Benjamin of Tudela, vol. ii. p. 425.
Forget, for shame, your Ternpe; bury in
Oblivion your feigned Hesperian orchards;
The golden fruit, kept by the watchful dragon,
Which did require a Hercules to get it,
Deserves not to be named.
A little after eleven we reached the point where the hills, which had receded for some miles and left room for the plain of Gennesareth, approach the lake again, and almost drop into it, leaving no sea-beach, and sending the eastern road over the steep of the projecting rock. After this they recede somewhat again, though much less considerably than before, and form not a plain, but a slope along the shore, till they reach the J ordan.
At the base of the interposing rock or headland is an old Khan in ruins, one of the line of Khans on the Damascus road, built I know not by whom, but perhaps by the mighty Salah-ed-Dm, the great builder of Khans and digger of wells. We did not examine it particularly, but it seemed in shape and aspect to be very like the other Khans which we had seen elsewhere. It is said to be built of basaltic tufa. Its name is Khan Minyeh.* Near it, and not far from the lake, is a well or fountain from which the Khan was in all likelihood supplied with water. There is nothing remarkable about it, either as to size or excellence. Its gets the name of Ain et-Tin, from some fig-tree which probably grew near it, but has now disappeared. The ruins to the south of the Khan on a small rising ground are in-
* This is the place which Seetzen gives as the Khan Beit-Zeide, about three leagues from Tiberias. Brief Account, &c, p. 20.
considerable; so much so that we should not have noticed them had not attention been called to them. No large town surely stood here, else it would have left some traces of itself. As Dr Robinson remarks of another place in this neighbourhood, “the remains are too trivial to have ever belonged to a place of any importance,”*
The well, of course, does not water the plain of Gennesareth, any more than Abraham’s well at Bir es-Seba waters the waste region round. It lies low down at the south-east angle of it, and merely gives verdure to the adjoining ground, which, from its proximity to the lake, stands less in need of a fountain than any other part. As we saw it, there was nothing remarkable about it. It would supply the Khan with purer water, perhaps, than the lake affords, but it would not help to cover the plain with verdure. If that plain depended for irrigation upon the Ain et-Tin, it would have always been a desert. This well, besides, being useless for the irrigation of the plain, contains no fish; whereas J osephus tells us that the fountain of Capharnaum was famous for fish, and especially that it produced the Coracine, which is only elsewhere found in a lake at Alexandria. This circumstance had given rise to the conjecture of some, that it wras a vein of the Nile. The spring of which Josephus speaks must have been the most remarkable fountain in the neighbourhood, both because of its irrigating power, and its production of the Coracine, a fish quite different from any to be found in the
::; Biblical Researches, vol. iii. p. 347. lake. To suppose that the fish of the fountain were merely the fish of the lake, is to deny the accuracy of Josephus’ statement. The conjecture of some that this was a vein of the Nile, seems to indicate its distance from the lake; for a fountain within twenty or thirty yards of the lake, and, therefore, in all likelihood, subterraneously fed by it, would not be conjectured to be a vein of the Nile. The more that one thinks of the historian’s statement, and examines the details of the locality, the more decided grows the persuasion that the Ain et-Tin, cannot be the fountain of Kapharnaum. There is hardly one point of resemblance between them, save that they are both in the region of Gennesareth. Dr Robinson’s conclusion (after comparing the two places), that “these considerations seem to establish the identity of the fountain Kapharnum with Ain et-Tin,” is quite unaccountable.*
* Dr Robinson has too freely altered Josephus’ statement. (1.) He alters the epithet yovi/AOorarY) into -ror///,wrar, (not cror/wrar asDr Robinson gives it at p. 351, and Bibliotheca Sacra, April 1855, p. 271; there is no such word), without any reason save that “it is to be preferred,” and “is given in the earlier editions.” But the earlier editions of Josephus are not the best, and the later German editions, which are the best, read the former and not the latter. See the Leipsic edition of 1850, vol. v. p. 309, which follows Havercamp, and professes to be “ad optimorum librorum fidem accurate edita.” But the historian’s testimony to the “prolific” or “fertilising” character of the stream, is too explicit to be neutralised by a doubtful reading; for he adds that the “plain is irrigated by this most prolific fountain,” irYiy/j diapdzrai yoviftttTar?y. (2 ) He alters the entire statement of Josephus; so that while the historian speaks of the benefits arising to the whole plain, from the geniality of climate, rr rw asouv evxgatfla, and the fertilising fountain, Dr Ro-NO LIKENESS IN NAME.
The name Minyeh does not connect itself with Capernaum; so that this important link is awanting. To make up for the want of this, very decided evidence is needed from other quarters. Of this there is none to be found in the present case. The great proof as to this being Capernaum is contained in Josephus’ statement, that a fountain called Kapharnome irrigated the plain of Gennesaret. There are one or two old topographers who have connected Capernaum with Minyeh and Mijdel, but by far the greater number of such have placed that city close by Jordan, as may be seen in all their old maps.*
binson makes this to refer to the nook of Khan Minyeh, “the former (Ain et-Tin) creates a most luxuriant herbage and rich pastures, in this quarter of the plain,” ol. iii. p. 291, 1st edition), — “it does occasion a luxuriant verdure in its vicinity and along the shore,” (vol. iii. p. 351, 2d edition). (3.) He makes Josephus say that the fountain produced a fish like the Coracine,” (vol. iii. p. 351;, whereas the historian is stating the curious fact that it was the Ccracine. (4.) He fills the fountain with fish out of the lake, i( fish could pass and repass without difficulty,” (ib). This is conjecture, of course; and Josephus evidently means that the fish were not lake-fish at all. (5.) He ascribes the story of there being fish in the fountain to mere “popular belief” (ib.), implying that it might not be true. Josephus states it as a well-known fact.
* See the map of Adrichomius, who places Capernaum near the head of the lake, and the fons Capharnaum considerably farther down; which shews the ancient opinion that these were not quite adjoining. Heidmann, in his map of Galilee, gives the same site to Capernaum. So does Roger; so does Antonio del Castillo. These old writers evidently had Josephus in view, who describes himself as being carried., when wounded at Julias, to Capernaum, implying that this latter place was not far off. Josephus’ description may not prove Tell-Hum to be the site, but it sets aside Khan Minyeh.
All ancient writers attest the greatness of Capernaum. It was the capital of the district; a city large in extent, numerous in population, and noble in its structures. At Khan Minyeh there is no room for such a city; and besides there are no ruins, such as Capernaum would leave behind. There is not a hewn stone to be found in this spot. The debris of a village is all that is left. It is said in explanation that the stones of Capernaum were conveyed by sea to build Tiberias. But Capernaum was a flourishing city long after Tiberias was built; and the stones of the latter could not have come from the ruins of the former. Besides, there are ruins some two or three miles north along the lake, whose well-hewn stones and pillars have been left untouched to this day.*
At this point our party separates for a few hours, some to go on to Tell-Hum, the rest to keep the Damascus road, straight north over the hill above Khan Minyeli. Those of us who have resolved to take the latter way, begin immediately to ascend the hill by a road so bad and ruowd that one asks, not so much can this be the great Damascus road, but is this a road at
* Many of the fenced cities of Naphtali were in the neighbourhood of this lake. “The fenced cities are Ziddim, Zer, and Hammath, Rakkath and Chinnereth,” Josh. xix. 35. In Ziddim do we see the origin of Said a. or Bethsaida, or Bethsaidan, as it is sometimes written? Is Gennesaret the gen (garden) of Zer, the plain taking its name from the city Zer ] Jlammaih is the warm-bath city, a mile south of Tiberias. Rakkath I should have supposed to be Kerak or Tarichea, had not the Jews affirmed that it is Tiberias. Of Chinnereth one can say nothing. (See Reland, vol. i. 161; vol. ii. 724. Keil on Joshua, p. 283. Transl.)
LAST LOOK OF THE LAKE.
all. Many a lingering look did we take of this bright lake, ere the hills shut it out. Its hills were bare and grey, its margin was desolate, its cities ruins; but its own beauty was unchanged. As an inland sea or mountain lake, it is quite a gem, and at no time could it have sparkled more brilliantly than now, when we are bidding it farewell. Its palms are gone; its palaces, and temples, and synagogues, are as dust; its fortresses that, like sentinels, challenged each other from its opposite sides, are swept from their rocks; its gardens and orchards, that surpassed Egypt, and rivalled Persia, have withered down; its rock-sepulchres have been filled, and emptied, emptied and filled, and emptied again; Jew, Koman, Christian, Moslem, have come and gone; its innumerable vessels, the pleasure-barge, the fisherman’s boat, and the war-galley, have vanished from its waters; but there it lies, itself, — untouched and unsoiled by earthquake, battle, havoc, blood, death, change, ruin. Hermon on the north, with its snows, and Tabor on the south, with its oaks, still keep watch over its waters.
As I was not one of the party visiting Tell-Hum, I do not attempt to describe it; but I subjoin Mr Beddome’s brief narrative, with a cut sketched by him on the spot. This will show, however, the nature of the city which once stood here, — large and well adorned, just such as Capernaum must have been.
About mid-day we reached Khan Minyeh, at the northern extremity of the plain of G-ennesareth. The khan is now in ruins: between it and the shore are several springs, from which a brook runs down into the lake. Over one of these springs, larger than the rest, stands an old fig-tree, and the oleander and other shrubs grow luxuriantly along the sides of the stream. Near the khan are a few ruins; but they seem of no very ancient date.
The Damascus road passes, up the hill, immediately above Khan Minyeh, in a northerly direction. This was our route to Merom; but being anxious to visit Tell Hum, which lies at the head of the lake, we diverged from the main path, still keeping the line of the coast, which here runs off in a north-easterly direction, to the entrance of the Jordan. Our muleteers and the dragoman took the more direct route; Dr Bonar, with two others of our party, remained with them.
A rocky hill rises abruptly behind Khan Minyeh, and projects out as a promontory into the lake. Leaving the khan, with Ali as our guide, we began to ascend the narrow path which leads round the point of this hill, about thirty feet above the water. In about a quarter of an hour we descended upon a small plain or wady, close to the lake, and shut in by the hills. Here there is another fountain, considerably larger than that at Khan Minyeh. The stream turns a mill-wheel, and then rushes down in a broad stream to the lake. As we came up, an Arab was standing in the middle of the stream washing his clothes, A few black tents were pitched on the shore, and near them were some mud huts, inhabited by the owners of the mill. I saw no ruins at this spot.
In about twenty minutes more we reached Tell Hum. Here the hills recede from the shore, which, at the same time, projects out considerably beyond the line of coast,
MR BEDDOME’S NARRATIVE.
leaving between the hills and the lake a large open space, covered by a series of undulating mounds. For about a mile in length along the shore, and half that distance in breadth, these mounds are strewn with stones; some of them quite black, and of a volcanic nature; others evidently the remains of former buildings. At the most projecting point near the water, is an old ruined tower; and near this, but higher up from the lake, are some ruins of a very remarkable character. Pillars, with Corinthian capitals, shafts, and entablatures, some of marble, others of granite and limestone, are strewn about in great confusion.
One large shaft of marble, which appeared to be part of an entablature, I particularly remarked for its elaborate carving; and of this I took a rough sketch. The strange device at one end seems intended to represent a building drawn on wheels; the other is ornamented with acanthus leaves.
The mounds, upon which these ruins are scattered, command the whole length of the lake, and far in the distance may be seen the steep cliffs of Gadara, and the mountains above Tiberias. The prospect is an extremely beautiful one; and I saw no other place so well adapted to have been the site of a great city. Desolation reigns here now, and it seems to be the favourite resort of large flocks of herons, and other water-fowl. A few stones are all that remains to tell of what Capernaum once was.
Crossing the mounds of ruins, we struck into a steep path, which leads up the hills to the north of the lake, and in about an hour we joined the Damascus road.
Though our road was of the roughest kind, yet the hill over which we were moving was not bare. Flowers were springing up everywhere, and we noticed immense quantities of a plant very like hemlock. We descended on the other side and lost sight of the lake, reaching Khan Jubb Yusef a little after one. This is another of the line of khans on the Damascus road. Ecclesiastical legend calls this the place of the pit into which Joseph was cast by his brethren, though that pit must have been some forty miles farther south, near Dothan, on the high-road between Gilead and Egypt, for the Ishmaelite caravan passed by that way (Gen. xxxvii. 25). Finding a khan here having the name of J oseph, probably from the famous Sahah-ed-din,* tradition assumed it at once as the genuine pit of Dothan. We
Saladin’s name was Joseph, son of Job, or Yusnf iln Eyub (Bohadin. Pref., p. 1). Connected, as he was, with Egypt, he erected many noble buildings there, which took the name of Yusvf from him, but were afterwards, through ignorance, ascribed to Joseph, son of Jacob. As Bir-Eyub was probably called after his father, so Ain Eyub and Tannur Eyub, on the north of the Sea of Galilee, might get their names in the same way.
WATERS OF MEROIvj.
asked in vain for the pit. Dragoman and muleteers knew nothing of a pit, though thousands of pilgrims have had it pointed out to them, and paid for seeing it. We sat down on some stones at the great gate of the khan, and lunched. There was nothing to be seen but the heavy old walls of the building, and the uneven ground in front, with patches of grass here and there.
Leaving this, we went up a low, stony hill, as usual strewed with flowers, — lilies and anemones, in great abundance. We soon came within sight of the Hideh, or waters of Merom; beautiful enough, but rather bleak and dull, in some respects more like a marsh than a lake. We next passed two small villages on the left, upon a slope, about three o’clock; and then, in half an hour more, came into a broad green plain girdled with mountains. The road was now less hilly, and lay through cultivated fields. The verdure was plentiful. Hermon seemed very near, and the other snowwrapt ridges of Libanus and Anti-Libanus, rose behind it, radiant with sunshine. We then passed through a low region, beautifully undulating. We crossed hillock after hillock, round and green. The breeze came along loaded with fragrance, from what fields we knew not; it might be the banks of the lakelet, it might be Lebanon itself; it might be some nearer “mountain of myrrh and hill of frankincense” (Cant. iv. 6). At half-past five we reached Malachah, our station for the night. Here a most abundant spring wells out of the base of the mountain, turns a corn -mill, then forms a stream, whose banks are green and bushy, then flows on into the lake. It is one of the many sources of J ordan; for from all we see and learn, Jordan is more than a “double-founted stream,” Its springs are many; all of them fresh and clear.
During our last half-hour’s ride, we started a good many gazelles, which served to remind us that we were in the range of the “hinds” of Naphtali (Gen. xlix. 21), the region of the “hind let loose,” There were five or six on the edge of a ploughed field, who looked at us and then vanished; and others down to our right among the brushwood that fringed the somewhat precipitous earthbanks of the lake. Some of our party followed, gun in hand, but in vain. These “wild roes” were as wise as they were fleet, and seemed to know here as elsewhere that man was not their friend. They were not large, — smaller than our common goat. But they were light and fleet; so slender in limb that, as they went along, you only saw their bodies. Their whole frame wras cast in the finest mould of grace and speed. When we saw them first, they were “feeding among the lilies” (Cant, iv. 5); but in a moment they were off,- — “leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills” (ib. ii. 8). Very pleasant was such a sight, to remind us of what has been called the Church’s “long-drawn sigh,”
“Make haste, my beloved,
And be thou like a roe,
Or a young hart,
Upon -the mountains of spices.” (Cant. viii. 14) “Even so, come, Lord Jesus” (Rev. xxii. 20).