Despite this contretemps, however, we got on with our hosts very amicably. They fed us with tea and cake, and wine from their own vineyard; and finished by conducting us over their monastery and showing us all the sights.
The place must be a furnace in summer time, for the cirque faces due southward; the tawny precipices are completely destitute of vegetation, and must radiate the heat mercilessly all round that breathless pit. In the caves would lurk such coolness as was going; but the lack of water must have been a sore trial in summer. Hermits, however, are generally credited with requiring a very moderate supply.
The cells lie some way up the ramp, and are reached by a steep zigzag pathway. How many of them there may be we do not pretend to guess; but we think we may safely say hundreds; for they extend laterally for several hundred yards along the concave sweep of the corrie, and (like the port-holes of an old line-of-battle ship) they are ranged up in tier above tier. They are not of any uniform pattern, like the older hermitages at Dara; and some few (probably those which have been most recently occupied) are furnished with windows and doors. A series of narrow pathways and rude rock staircases strings the whole assortment together, and by these the solitaries were enabled to assemble at their church.
Here and there the main pathway is barred by the erection of a rude arched gateway: but the only real building is the church, which is terraced out on a buttress of rock. This church is comparatively modern, dating from about 1500;[{120}] but behind it, jammed against the face of the cliff, is another and much older church erected in the ninth or tenth century, and adorned with some nice bits of carving somewhat similar to the Runic work of our own land. Behind this again, excavated in the rock itself, is the veritable cell of Rabban Hormizd—a chamber some eight feet square, and approached by a sort of winding rabbit burrow. The original door and window of this cell are now closed, the church having been built up against it; and the grave of the hermit is placed in one of the walls, at a spot which is situated immediately behind the altar.
The church of Rabban Hormizd is very much “Lord of Name,” that is it enjoys great repute as a place of pilgrimage; and the virtue for which it is chiefly celebrated is the healing of the insane, or (as they are more commonly called in this country) the “possessed.” The lunatic (often quite willing) is solemnly conducted to the church, and is tethered up in it for the night with a ponderous iron chain and collar affixed to a staple in the wall.[72] By morning (unless he is very mad indeed) he will usually profess himself cured. Quite a number of other mountain churches can boast a similar reputation, but their methods of treatment (as will be hereafter related) are often more drastic still.
We rejoined our caravan at the mouth of the gorge, and pursued our way steadily eastward along the foot of the mountains; passing first the village of Baadri, dominated by Ali Beg’s castle, and then rejoining the road which we had followed previously on our visit to the Yezidi shrine. Some two hours beyond Ain Sufni, we reached the river Gomel, a fairly large mountain stream; and here we swung round to the left, perhaps half a mile up the river, in order[{121}] to get a passing glimpse of the famous “Picture Rocks” of Bavian.[73]
The Gomel emerges from the mountains by a flat-bottomed winding valley shut in on either hand by vertical walls of rock; and along the cliffs on the right bank a little above the point of exit, hangs that marvellous gallery of “pictures” so well known to Assyriologists. The principal bas-relief is a huge square panel, graven on the face of a rock bastion which immediately overhangs the stream. It comprises four gigantic figures; now wofully battered and weather-beaten, but awesome beyond all telling in the loneliness of that desolate glen. Some dozen smaller panels are ranged above it, along an upper story of the cliff; and at its foot two great detached stone tables lie half submerged in the waters of the stream. The design of the big panel is self-repeating, each half being mirrored by the other; and this circumstance is of great assistance in deciphering the details of the work. For, some thousand years after the carvings were executed, a party of mis-begotten hermits came to settle down in the valley, and burrowed a set of cells for themselves along the face of the cliff. Two or three of these vandals chose to excavate immediately behind the great panel, and cut out their windows in the middle of it, quite regardless of the “idols” outside. With fortunate carelessness, however, they did not do their damage symmetrically, and the portions destroyed upon one side remain on the other intact. The subject is King Sennacherib making an offering to the goddess Ishtar; and the inscription records the destruction of Babylon, which had rebelled against him at the commencement of his reign, and which he took and razed to the ground.
The panels on the cliff above are all identical with each other. They have semi-circular heads, and are carved with the figure of the king. Of the two great slabs in the water, one bears on its face three figures—apparently the god Bel and two worshippers—and is carved on one of the[{122}] angles into a small human-headed bull. The second is so much eroded that it is impossible to distinguish the design.
It seems that the cliffs of the Gomel were one of the principal quarries which supplied the materials for constructing the ancient palaces of Nineveh. Most of the great slabs were quarried from the upper beds of the limestone, and were brought down to the river bank, at the foot of the principal bas-relief, by a broad inclined way which can still be distinctly traced. Down this they could be lowered on rollers, and would then be safely deposited upon the spit of sand and shingle piled up under the bank by the river; for this work would be done in summer, at a time when the waters were low. The gravel beneath the slab would then be dug away in sections; and, bit by bit, there would be inserted under it a wicker-framed raft or keleg supported on inflated skins. Given a sufficiency of skins such a raft can be made to float anything, and in autumn, when the river rose again, the slab would be floated down to the Tigris, and landed under the walls of Nineveh near the palace for which it was destined. The two slabs now lying in the water were evidently intended to be transported in this manner, but for some cause (which we can now only guess at) they were eventually abandoned unshipped. Possibly they were mis-handled and damaged. Possibly the building of the palace was interrupted by the assassination of Sennacherib, and was never resumed subsequently when Esarhaddon had quelled Sharezer’s revolt.
It is conceivable that the great panel also would eventually have been cut from the rock behind it, lowered on to the spit beneath, and dispatched in similar fashion; but it is perhaps more likely that this was always intended to remain as a permanent monument in its present site. The smaller panels along the crest of the cliff do not look as if they had been destined for removal. They were probably carved for mere “swank,” to give dignity to the royal quarries; or to keep the carvers’ hands in, at a time when contract work was slack.