The sick had scarcely found shelter within their hovels when the storm broke upon us in all its fury. Protected by a thick burnous and a Mackintosh coat, we waited patiently the return of fair weather. The rain ceasing, we advanced, but had not reached the southern limits of the town when the storm was renewed with tenfold violence. Deeming it prudent to halt, we remained upon the plain for an hour, amid a drenching rain and exposed to a raging wind; but when the rain ceased a rainbow spanned the heavens such as seldom appears in Western skies.
Hoping to reach Cæsarea by noon, we dashed over the plain, and in less than two hours came to the Nahr Abu Zabûra, which was so swollen as to render fording dangerous. Exploring the banks for a ford, but failing to find one, we plunged in with a shout, and with difficulty gained the opposite bank. Safely “beyond the floods,” the Plain of Sharon lay before us in all its wealth and beauty. It extends like a vast prairie from the base of Carmel on the north to the sea-girt cliffs of Joppa on the south. Eastward the Hills of Samaria look down upon it, with Ebal and Gerizim rising above their fellows. Westward is the sea, whose waters roll their ceaseless waves against its “empire shores.” It has a shore line of 50 miles in length, and varies from one to 15 miles in breadth. Undulating in long and graceful swells, it is at intervals dotted withlow hills crowned with the ruins of unknown towns. Retaining its ancient character, it is the best pasture-land west of the Jordan valley.Three thousand years ago here Shitrai the Sharonite kept the flocks of David,[507] and over its ample fields the shepherd of to-day might wander with his herds. Of the “rose of Sharon” neither peasants nor scholars have any knowledge at present; if it exists, it is not recognized by its inspired name. There grows upon the plain the “imperial thorn,” by some regarded as the thorn of which the Savior’s crown was made. Growing to the height of four feet, it has a gorgeous purple blossom, with a long, lancet-like brier, and would well compose a mock imperial crown.
There are no paths over this great plain, which is seldom trodden except by those who till the soil, and the compass or a peasant is the traveler’s only guide. Though ordinarily this is a disadvantage, yet to us it proved advantageous, as in our wanderings we discovered a lake that had been lost since the days of the Crusaders. Though it is not large, its waters are pure, of a bluish tint, and abound in fish. Flocks of wild ducks were floating on its placid bosom. Its waters never fail, though they are sensibly increased by the rains in the wet seasons. Its shores are clean and sandy. On the north it is bounded by a high sand-bank of many miles in extent. The sand is of an orange color, like that found on the Debbet er-Ramleh in Arabia. On the south and west there is a meadow rich in rank weeds, and covered with acres of white and yellow daisies. On the north and east there is an oaken grove, lovely as an English park.
Crossing the large sand-hill, we soon entered a tract of country remarkable only for the quantity of thorns and brambles, which scratch both man and beast in the most painful manner. An hour’s ride from the lake brought us to the outer walls of Cæsarea, and at one P.M. we encamped within its massive ruins. Fearing an attack, our soldiers immediately left us to return to Nablous, assigning as the cause the worst of military reasons—that they were afraid to remain. An Arab soldier is rarely to be trusted in danger. His convictions of right and wrong, his sense of obligation, his want of personal courage, his habitual meanness of soul, and his traditional hatred of the Christian, disqualify him to be a trusty guard. He is of advantageto the traveler in saving him from the petty annoyances of the common people, by whom he is dreaded because he is tyrannical and brutal, but it is his nature to cower in the presence of a superior and courageous foe. There is nothing so mean as an Arab soldier.
It was a dangerous experiment to visit Cæsarea, and especially to remain there during the night without a guard. For many years there has been a standing feud between the Fellahîn who dwell in the villages on the plain and the Hawâra Arabs who hover along the coast. It was a novel sight, as we crossed the fields, to see farmers engaged in the peaceful pursuits of husbandry armed to the teeth. Men were threshing with guns slung upon their backs; women were gleaning with heavy clubs dangling at their side; and patrol-men, with sword and pistols, gun and lance, were on the alert to give the alarm at the first appearance of the foe. With brief intervals, such has been the condition of Sharon since the earliest ages, and Isaiah gives it as a sign of the restoration of the Jews, that“Sharon shall be a fold of flocks, and the Valley of Achor a place for the herds to lie down in, for my people that have sought me.”[508] Discouraged by such dangers, but few travelers attempt this interesting tour; but there is so much of religious and political importance connected with this renowned city, that we felt justified in making the journey and remaining during the night, after we had been abandoned by our military escort.
The authentic history of Cæsarea commences with Strabo, in the reign of Augustus, who describes it as an insignificant landing-place, marked by “Strato’s Tower.” From this solitary tower Cæsarea became the most magnificent city in Palestine, under the auspices of Herod the Great. The subject and friend of Augustus, he sought to perpetuate the favor of his royal master by founding an imperial city and giving to it the family name of Cæsar; and, impelled by an unbounded ambition, he aimed, if possible, to make it rival Rome in the elegance of its architecture and in the extent of its commerce. Abandoning the traditions of his fathers, he transferred the capital of his empire from its mountain fastnesses to this inhospitable coast, which exposed it alike to the corruption of Western nations and to the attack of their naval galleys. Butin removing the sceptre of empire from Judah he unconsciously became the accomplisher of prophecy, and in inviting the civilization of the West to his shores he unintentionally opened a highway for the nations to hear from apostolic lips the sublime lessons of Christianity. Sparing neither art nor treasure in founding his new city, he surrounded it with a wall of many miles in circumference, and within the inclosure erected on a commanding hill, which he encompassed by a second wall, a splendid temple of white marble, and dedicated it to Cæsar. According to Josephus, he adorned it with two statues, one representing Rome, and the other his patron Augustus. To attract the commerce of the West, he constructed in front of the acropolis a harbor equaling the Athenian Piræus both in elegance and extent. Sinking huge stones to the depth of 20 fathoms, he constructed an immense and gently-curving breakwater to protect vessels in port from the southern and western gales, but left an open channel on the north for the entrance and departure of ships. To strengthen and beautify the mole, he reared large towers, containing vaulted chambers adorned with arched ceilings, mosaic pavements, polished columns, and sculptured capitals, for the accommodation of naval officers, and connected the towers and the shore by a long quay, designed for the landing of merchandise and the pleasures of a promenade. To tempt the wealth and fashion of Greece and Rome, he erected on the east and south a vast theatre and circus; and to secure the health and comfort of the citizens,he built aqueducts extending miles in length, and large enough to admit a mounted cavalier.[509] But the history of Cæsarea was as brief as it was splendid; its decline was as rapid as its rise was sudden. Forsaken by men, it is now an uninhabited desolation. An unbroken silence reigns within its palaces, the wild Arab refuses to pitch his tent within the crumbling walls, and the shepherd declines to lead his flock amid its wild flowers and rich grasses. Rank weeds grow where royal feet trod, the shy fox barks and the hungry jackal wails where kings reigned, and sobbing winds sigh responsive to moaning waves where the voice of revelry was heard. As the ancient population of the city, consisting of 200,000 souls, could not have resided within the walls of the acropolis, our first attempt was to ascertain the location and direction of the outer wall.Riding to the east of the town, we could trace a regular mound sweeping from shore to shore in the form of a semi-circle, now covered with rubbish, and overgrown with high weeds. Returning, we ascended the second or inner wall, which is well preserved, and is exceedingly strong. On the south, east, and north it is surrounded by a deep moat, and is flanked on three sides by bastions surmounted with towers 120 and 150 feet apart. Commencing on the shore, the north wall runs inland a distance of 900 feet; forming an angle at this point with the eastern wall, the latter extends southward 1728 feet, where it joins the south wall, which runs to the sea, a distance of 657 feet. Having an altitude of more than 70 feet, this wall is supported by 17 bastions. To increase its defensive power, the eastern wall is double, one portion being perpendicular and the other oblique. Near the northeast angle is a large gateway, the chief entrance to the town on the east; and in the southern wall, near the shore, there is another gate, surmounted by one of the watch-towers of the olden city.
Measuring half a mile in length and a quarter in breadth, the whole area within this inclosure is covered with heaps of rubbish, with deep intervening pits; and on the one and in the other grow marigolds, white daisies, chess, thistles, and brambles. Not a fragment of Cæsarea’s temple remains to be identified, and on its site are the ruins of the Cathedral of Cæsarea, in which the learned Eusebius officiated as bishop of the diocese for more than a quarter of a century. Of this noble edifice four large buttresses are standing, which, from their height, are seen from afar, presenting an imposing appearance to the traveler, whether his approach is from the plain on the east or from the sea on the west. Though a complete ruin, the outline of this early Christian church can be traced without difficulty. Constructed of beveled stones, the interior consisted of a nave and two lateral aisles. Originally extending 143 feet in length, 121 feet of the south wall continue in situ, 13 feet in thickness. In the eastern end is the chancel, which, consisting of three semicircular apses measuring 60 feet in all, is the breadth of the cathedral. Standing from 16 to 20 feet apart, and being from five to seven feet thick, the four remaining buttresses formed the grand portico to this Christian temple. Judging from the projection of the arch, the doorway was 12 feet high, as it is nine wide. Beneath the church is a dark andloathsome vault 77 feet long, gradually declining toward the east. It is now the den of jackals and hyenas.
ANCIENT CÆSAREA.
If any work of art is worthy to be called grand, it is the Herodian harbor of Cæsarea. The breakwater described by Josephus is a continuation of the southern wall of the acropolis, more than 300 feet of which are still visible above the sea. Some of the stones in the lower courses are 20 feet long, six wide, and as many thick. In the southeast corner of the mole are the remains of a tower, reached by 20 stone steps, and commanding a view of the entire port. The ceiling was formerly arched, and a portion of an old arch projects from the side, resting on the figure of a human head. Connected with this tower, and on a level with the shore, were the apartments for the officers of custom, the mosaic floors of which remain in excellent condition. On the very extremity of the mole is another tower, containing a square room 20 feet high, 30 wide, and 35 long, but the waves are fast wearing it away. On the northern side of the harbor, flanked by stones 15 feet long, seven wide, and six thick, are three immense gateways for the entrance of vessels. Following the shell-strewn shore of a small bay, we reached the end of the northern wall of the acropolis. The noble marble pier, once extending into the sea 170 feet, is now a ruin. Its hundred prostrate columns lie as they fell, most of them parallel to each other, with now and then one lifting its head in silence above its fellows, worn by the tireless surges which roll over it, careless of its former grandeur. To me, sitting on one of those columns far out into the sea, time passed unconsciously. The day had declined, the golden sun was sinking into the distant ocean, and, as if an angel had led me back into the past, I thought of the fall of empires and the vanity of human glory.