Hailing the first blush of returning day, I sat on the desolate shore and read the inspired history of Cæsarea. Excepting Jerusalem, no city in Palestine is more intimately connected with the early Christian Church. Coming from the interior, the apostles sought the great centres of commerce, where they preached to men of all nations their catholic faith.Having baptized the Ethiopian eunuch, Philip the Evangelist followed the coast, and, preaching Jesus to the inhabitants of all the maritime cities thereon, he came to Cæsarea.[510] Thirtyyears thereafter, here, with his four daughters, he resided as one of the seven deacons of the infant church, when St. Paul and St. Luke were his guests.It was in his house that Agabus took Paul’s girdle, and, binding his own hands and feet, foretold the arrest and imprisonment of the apostle to the Gentiles.[511] Arrested in the Holy City, here Paul was brought a prisoner by order of Claudius Lysias, and somewhere amid these ruins was the dungeon in which he was confined two years. In obedience to Roman law, hither came Ananias the high-priest, with the orator Tertullus, to accuse him before the governor. Here stood the palace of the sordid Felix and his adulterous Drusilla, where he “reasoned of righteousness, temperance, and judgment to come;” and where he made that marvelous defense before Agrippa and Festus, provoking the taunt from the latter, “Paul, thou art beside thyself; much learning hath made thee mad;” and extorting the concession from the former, “Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian.” And from this harbor, now the wreck of earlier grandeur, that apostle entered the ship Adramyttium, under Julius, a centurion of Augustus’s band, to prosecute his appeal before Cæsar,and at last to die a martyr at Ire Fontana, beneath the walls of Rome.[512] Here was the home of the devout Cornelius, to whom Peter came from Joppa on the coast, 33 miles to the south, with the keys of the kingdom of heaven, to open its gates to the Gentiles and baptize the first heathen convert. Here, in the year 270 A.D., Eusebius Pamphili was born, and subsequently this was the birthplace of Procopius the historian.
Sending the baggage to Athlît, our party separated to explore the different parts of the city, agreeing to rendezvous at night at the above-named place. Riding down the coast with a single companion, we first examined Herod’s amphitheatre. Located a little south of the acropolis wall, it occupies a commanding position. Judging from the shape of the ground, it was originally semicircular in form. Much of the masonry has survived the waste of time, and among the broken granite columns is one nine feet in circumference. The arena has an eastern and western diameter of 69 feet, and a northern and southern diameter of 78 feet. The seats are of stone, arranged in tiers, and recede as they ascend, giving a slopefrom the bottom of the arena to the outside of the uppermost seat of 90 feet. The width of the eastern wall, from the highest tier of seats to its outer edge, is 75 feet, forming a grand promenade. It was not possible to determine whether this is an embankment of earth faced with masonry or a solid wall. It is penetrated with arched passage-ways, like those in the amphitheatres of Capua and Pompeii, which lead to the dens and stalls of the animals designed for the entertainment of the spectators. On the south side is one of the principal vomitories leading to the arena; it is 11 feet wide, 48 long, and is the only one now open. High up in the southeast part of the building is a solitary seat, just as it was left by the last spectator by whom it was occupied. The shape of the mounds on the south indicates that the southern wall of the theatre served as part of the city wall, as on its extreme western end are the remains of an old watch-tower containing a circular chamber, and not far to the north are the ruins of another, occupying a narrow neck of land commanding the approaches to the coast. It is evident, from the present appearance of the mounds, that originally the walls extended to the shore,agreeing with the description of Josephus that “it was conveniently situated for a prospect to the sea.”[513]
With this theatre stands connected one of the most mournful tragedies of Bible times. Having murdered the Apostle James and attempted the life of Peter, Herod Agrippa came from Jerusalem to Cæsarea to call to account the citizens of Tyre and Sidon, who had incurred his royal displeasure. Arrayed in robes of gold and silver texture, Herod entered the theatre on a festive day to deliver an oration to his subjects. According to an ancient custom, it was early in the morning, and the sun’s rays, falling upon his resplendent garments, dazzled the eyes of the beholders, who, in a delirium of joy at the brilliant spectacle, and at the same time affected by the eloquent tones of his voice, rose en masse and cried out, “It is the voice of a god and not of a man. Be thou merciful to us; for, although we have hitherto reverenced thee only as a man, yet shall we henceforth own thee as superior to mortal nature.” In this moment of divine homage he looked up and saw above him, on a rope, an owl, a bird of ill omen. It was the messenger of his departure. Refusing to rebuke this impious flattery,“the angel of the Lord smote him, because he gave not God the glory, and he was eaten up of worms, and gave up the ghost.”[514] Looking upon his flatterers as he expired, the dying king exclaimed,“I, whom ye call a god, am commanded presently to depart this life, while Providence thus reproves the lying words you have just said to me; and I, who was by you called immortal, am immediately to be hurried away by death.”[515] The construction of the theatre is in harmony with these serious facts. The imperial throne being on the west side of the edifice, toward the shore; the auditors sitting with their backs toward the east; and the building, like all structures of the kind in Eastern countries, having no roof, the rising sun shone with dazzling brightness upon the monarch’s robes, transforming him into an object of indescribable magnificence, and awakening the acclamations of the people.
Riding eastward through lacerating thorns and briers, we saw a red granite block, 35 feet long, five wide, and four thick, lying upon its broad surface, and near it another of less dimensions. Beyond them, to the north, is Herod’s circus for chariot racing. It consists of an oblong basin with embanked sides. The three conical shafts of red granite, averaging from eight to ten feet in length, which marked the goal of the ancient course, are still standing; and in the midst of a field not far to the northwest is a deep well, 20 feet in diameter, with circular mouthpiece and arched roof.
The ride from Cæsarea to Mount Carmel is less remarkable for its Biblical antiquities than for the pleasures of the tour. It was 11 A.M. when we regained the shore, and I rejoiced in the mysterious companionship of the sea. The aqueducts of Herod extended for miles on our right, and, though dry, are in a good condition. The coast is here lined with low black rocks, against which the waves dash wildly, the spray reflecting the rainbow. At midday we came to the Nahr Zurka, or the Crocodile River of Strabo and Pliny, which is a clear and fordable stream. Having its source among the hills on the east, it flows down a pretty glen, amid wild flowers and dense shrubbery. To the left is a low promontory, jutting into the sea, and covered with the shapeless remains of some unknown light-house. To the right the Samarian Hills creep down to the shore. The beach soon widened, and was strewn for mileswith white and purple shells to the depth of several feet. In two hours we passed Tantûra,the Dor of the Scriptures, whose king was the ally of Jabin of Hazor.[516] It is a small village of 30 houses; and on an islet to the west is an old tower, which, like an ancient landmark, is seen from Cæsarea to Carmel. Passing the small towns of Kefr Naum and Surafend on the right, we reached Athlît at six P.M. on Saturday, and pitched our tents on a beautiful lawn, beneath the walls of the Castellum Peregrinorum. This is the second most interesting city of Phœnicia, but the date of its origin and the name of its founder are unknown. With ruins as vast and grand as those of Cæsarea, the style of the architecture is superior to that of the city of Herod. Unnoticed by sacred and profane historians, its name remained in obscurity till the twelfth century, when the Crusaders selected it as the chief landing-place for pious pilgrims en route for the Holy City, calling it the “Pilgrims’ Castle.” It occupies a rocky promontory, and is bounded on the west by the ever-majestic sea, and on the east by green hills and fertile plains. Crossing the headland from bay to bay are the remains of an outer wall, which once inclosed a quadrangular area a mile in extent. Within this inclosure stood the citadel, inclosed by a wall 15 feet thick and 30 high. It was constructed of pure Phœnician stones, and was penetrated by three gates, two on the east and one on the south, which were reached by stone steps. Opposite the southern gate is a massive pier 12 feet wide and 150 long, most of which is still above the water. Here the shore is covered with prostrate columns, fallen pendentives, broken entablatures, and marred cornices. Rising out of the sea are sections of the western wall, the southern end of which is formed of circular stones 12 feet in circumference. Originally there sprang from this wall a lofty arcade 35 feet wide, and beneath it ran an arched passage-way across the entire promontory. In the northwest corner is a large room, to the very door of which vessels came to land their passengers and discharge their cargoes. To the northeast of this arcade is a plain Gothic church 20 feet wide and 133 long. The ceiling is supported by 12 arches, springing from as many plain brackets, each arch culminating in an elegant embossed flower. The interior is reached by a single door, and its one square and two pointed windows look upon the sea.
Consisting of a few huts, occupied by inhabitants as filthy as they are wretched, the modern town of Athlît is piled upon the ruins of the ancient acropolis. Beneath the citadel are immense vaults, supporting the formidable fortress above. In the midst of these huts stands the once magnificent Gothic church of the Crusaders. The remaining wall is 80 feet high, and is divided into sections by ribs, which rest upon the heads of human figures. These arches, no doubt, spanned the eastern aisle of the church in the days of its glory. Such are the splendid ruins of Athlît. Impressed with its greatness, I experienced the novel emotions of gazing upon a decayed city whose powerful citizens are without a record in history. Enumerating Dor and its towns, Joshua may have included Athlît; or, if it existed at that time, it may not have been possessed by Issachar.
Two roads lead from the “Pilgrims’ Castle” to Mount Carmel, one along the coast to Haifa, the other through the Vale of Dor. We took the latter: the path leads over rich plains, where reapers and gleaners were gathering the ripened grain. To the east the trees and blades of corn seemed to rise out of water, but we soon discovered that it was a mirage. In an hour we reached the mouth of a narrow mountain defile. To the south of the entrance are two remarkable caves, which some time have been human habitations. The larger of the two is 300 feet long and 50 wide. The sides and top are formed into sections by 13 natural arches, resembling the ribbed ceiling of a Gothic church. The bottom of the cave declines inward, and near its termination the percolated water drops from the fretted roof. Entering the mountain gorge, the lofty hills on either side are covered with oaks, hawthorn, myrtle, and acacias, and flowers bloomed along the grassy vale. The Sabbath silence that reigned within was unbroken save by the cooing of the dove in its mountain home, and the scream of the eagle as he flew from his inaccessible eyry. The hills soon receded, and the broad valley was dotted with oaken groves and fields of pasture, where herds of cattle and flocks of sheep and goats were browsing. Passing through the village of Asifriah, we descended a steep path leading into a ravine of extraordinary grandeur. Descending the glen, between mountains which arose thousands of feet above us, we turned to the north and began the ascent of Carmel. For two hourswe ascended a mountain path steep and rugged, lined with oaks, acacias, and flowers, when we gained the summit of the sacred mount, and stood with Elijah of Tishbe, and Elisha, the son of Shaphat.
Branching off from the northern portion of the mountains of Samaria, Carmel is a bold and grand promontory projecting into the sea. Running in a northwesterly direction, it is the boundary-line between the Plain of Sharon on the south and that of Phœnicia on the north. Rising 2000 feet above the sea, it is 18 miles long and five wide. Covered with evergreen oaks, it is appropriately called “The Fruitful Field.”As the type of natural beauty, Isaiah compares the returning glory of his nation to the “excellency of Carmel,”[517]while Amos predicts that “the top of Carmel shall wither,”[518] as descriptive of the utter ruin of his country. From the summit the eye rests upon one of the noblest landscapes in the world. To the west is that “great sea” seen by the prophet’s servant; to the south are the Mountains of Samaria; to the north the Hills of Nazareth; while to the east is the Plain of Esdraelon, stretching far away to the Jordan in vast undulations, and dotted with Gilboa, Little Hermon, and Mount Tabor.
But the glory of Carmel is its sacred associations. In the darkest hour in Jewish history, when Jehovah’s altars were thrown down and his prophets slain, hither Elijah invited the priests of Baal to test by fire the superiority of their respective gods. The priests conceding the existence of Elijah’s God, the contest was to decide whether Jehovah or Baal should be the supreme divinity of the land. Chastened by the evils of a long drouth, the people were prepared for a procedure so extraordinary. Ahab, over whom the infamous Jezebel had gained the ascendency, was upon the throne of Israel; and, while lost to all the better feelings of woman’s nature, and irreclaimably abandoned to the worst forms of idolatry, there remained no hope in the case of the queen, yet such a divine interposition might act for good on the mind of the king.
Midway the mountain there is an upland plateau, commanding a view of the entire plain. In this recess there is a noble fountain, three feet square, shaded by oaks, and rising above it is that bold and rocky peak which the prophet’s servant ascended to watch the rising cloud. Here, in full view of Ahab’spalace, the sacrifices were offered. From the loose rocks that here abound were taken the stones to build the altars. From these forests was hewn the wood on which the offerings were placed. From this mountain spring, either miraculously preserved from becoming dry during the long drouth, or created by a divine power for the occasion, were drawn the twelve barrels of water to fill the trench around the altar of Elijah. From the pasture-fields below, up these slopes, came the bullocks to be sacrificed; while, covering the gentle declivities, and extending in vast concentric circles to the plain beneath, and clinging to every crag and tree above, the people were gathered to witness the most interesting of all sacrificial scenes. Around their altar stood the king and priests of Baal, while, wrapped in his mantle, Elijah stood alone. From morning till noon, and thence till evening, the prophets of idolatry implored their god in vain. With an irony that was biting as it was confusing, the prophet of Tishbe urged them to cry aloud. It was the dawn of his triumph. Sublime in his simplicity and strong in his isolation, Elijah invited the people near. Repairing the Lord’s altar, he prepared the sacrifice, and, in answer to a prayer no less brief than fervent, the fire descended and the sacrifice was consumed, amid the acclamations of the people, “The Lord, he is the God!” As the defamers of religion and the enemies of God and man, the priests of Baal were led down to the banks of the Kishon, from which they had so recently come in such pomp, and were slain. Ahab and Elijah reascended the Mount, the former to eat and drink, the latter to pray. Hearing, in his prophetic ear, the sound of abundance of rain, Elijah sent his servant up to the loftiest of the mountain peaks to watch the rising cloud from the bosom of the sea. The heavens grew dark, the rain began to fall; and in fear lest the Kishon might not be fordable, Ahab was commanded to hasten to his palace; while, careless of his age, and in the spirit of a loyal subject to a king whom he had humbled in the presence of his people,Elijah girded up his loins, and ran before the chariot of Ahab to the entrance of Jezreel.[519]