Palestine

by C. R. Conder

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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