Ride to Kanawât (Kenath)—Impressive situation and remains—Place-names in Palestine—Israelites and Arabs—Education—A charming ride through mountain glades—Suweida.
We left the city by the southern, the only double gate the city boasted, as it is still the best preserved. Here also the city wall is seen in something like its original proportions. Our way led straight southwards from the gate, along a track lined on either side with fallen and broken columns, which showed that the splendour of the old city had been by no means confined within the walls. A large pool had formed in the hollow to the right during winter, and, replenished by the previous night’s rain, afforded refreshment to the horses ere they faced the steep hill before them. By a zigzag path we soon ascended to a considerable height, finding far more various vegetation than we had thought possible.
Riding thus along the western slopes of the mountain, a wonderful panorama spread out before us: Shuhba, which we had just left, black and desolate-looking on its blasted hill; the whole extent of Haurân, el-Lejâʾ, Jaulân, and Gilead; Jebel esh-Sheikh, throwing high his gleaming shoulders in the north-west; while once again we could see the Safed hills and the uplands of Lower Galilee, with Tabor’s rounded cone distinctly visible above his fellows. We could almost trace all our wanderings from the point where we entered the Haurân, through the scorched fields of el-Lejâʾ, on to the mountain over which we were passing. And here it was impossible to avoid noting once more the dark spots over the far-stretching plains, marking the positions of ancient towns now waste and ruined. To the traveller in this country, almost fabulously rich in agricultural wealth, the phrase “a land of ruins” ever and anon returns like the refrain of some sad song. A lower road from Shuhba leads by way of Suleim and ʿAtyl, each with ruins of interest—the former of a temple, subsequently a Christian church; and the latter of two temples. But it was much longer, and we feared the hollows would be heavy from the rain; and wishing to have as much time as possible in Kanawât, we took the way across the mountain. The immediate surroundings were dull, but descending a little, and turning a spur of the hill, a scene of surpassing beauty met our eyes. The valley below opened into a fair plain, embosomed among the mountains, where teams of oxen, guided by peasant Druzes, in their white turbans and tricoloured coats, drew furrows in the soft soil with wooden ploughs, contrasting picturesquely with the brown and green of the surrounding slopes. The southern edge of the plain is washed by a little stream; beyond it the rising ground was covered with glancing foliage, over which rose the tops of tall columns. Eastward the valley narrowed, and the stream dashing down a precipice many feet high, formed a delightful waterfall, on either side of which were gathered the ruins of Kanawât. The mountains, grey in the changing light, formed a pleasing background. Just as we swept round in full view, a light shower drifted down the valley. The sun, striking through the rain on glistening foliage, white waterfall, and stately ruins on the brow of the hill, transformed the whole into a vision of fairyland. It seemed as if the stream of time were suddenly turned back, and the broken, hoary city on the height smiled again in the beauty and splendour of her youth. So complete was the illusion, that the passage of warriors long dead, with the kingly form of Herod in their midst, hotly pursued by the wild Arabians, would have seemed so natural as hardly to excite surprise.
We crossed the plain, waded the stream, and climbed the slope towards the city. Leaving the ruins of a fine temple crowning a leafy knoll, to the right, we pushed on through thickets of ground oak and thorn, a strong prickly network of brambles covering all the undergrowth. The lower part of the town presents nothing distinctive. It is only partially inhabited by a colony of Druzes. Many of the empty houses are quite perfect, stone doors and windows in position, and swinging as easily as they did to the hands of their old possessors. Going as far as we dared along the edge of the cliff, over which this part of the town seems to impend, we obtained a fine view of the gorge into which the waterfall descends, and also of the picturesque old mill by which the water-power is utilised for the benefit of the inhabitants. Turning cautiously, we retraced our steps, and entered the street leading to the sheikh’s house. As he was absent we could not pay him our respects. An easy ascent leads to the upper town, where, in open spaces, all the great buildings were gathered. We crossed the broken remains of a fine old aqueduct, just above the waterfall, beside the ruins of a gigantic wall; and climbing over shapeless heaps of stones, many of them beautifully cut and carved, we entered the largest of all the structures that tell of glories long waxed dim. It is variously called by the natives es-Seraiah—“the Palace,” and Makâm Ayyûb—“the place of Job.” Thus, on either side of the great plain, on which in the far past, as tradition hath it, his flocks browsed and his husbandmen gathered the golden harvests, a spot is consecrated to the patriarch’s memory.
KANAWÂT, RUINS OF TEMPLE
The Seraiah is a group of massive buildings, adorned with colonnades and artistic sculptures. Around a doorway still almost entire, opening on a wide paved space, are beautifully carved bunches of grapes, leaves, and flowers. On the lintel of a door leading from one part to another, a cross is cut in the stone, indicating the presence of Christians at some period, while one of the halls has evidently been used as a church. These apartments are of spacious dimensions, the smallest of the three measuring eighty feet by seventy. Most likely they were originally dedicated to heathen gods. What information as to the ancient city and its noble buildings may be buried under the great piles of debris no one can say; but few places, I should think, on either side of Jordan would better repay the excavator’s toil.
Our cloth was spread on the stump of a fallen column, in the innermost shrine. Sitting around on huge blocks, finding shelter from the sun, we enjoyed our mid-day meal. Troops of kindly Druzes gathered about, ready to bring leban, cheese, milk, bread, or whatever viands were at their command. The horses, having been refreshed from the brook, seemed to appreciate the cool shade of the middle chamber, haltered to the stately columns.
The remains of Kanawât might well engage attention for as many days as we had hours to spend. On the opposite bank of the deep valley is a small theatre almost wholly cut out of the solid rock, about sixty feet in diameter, with a cistern in the centre of the area. A Greek inscription intimates that it was built by Marcus Lysias, probably a wealthy Roman officer, for the delectation of the inhabitants of Canatha. A little higher up stands a temple of modest proportions, and still further eastward a large tower, resting on massive substructions, evidently of high antiquity. This is approached by steps hewn in the rock. Close by is a lofty round tower, probably sepulchral. Just visible over the oak thickets above us on our way to Suweida, we saw several similar towers. If we cannot fix their date, it is clear at least that they belong to a time in the far past. Of the great reservoirs, whose arched roofs have in many places been broken through, we could make no minute inspection. They lie between the Seraiah and the remains of a noble temple, of which the thick side walls are standing, while in front a few columns of splendid proportions rise from a huge confused mass of great stones. It was perilous climbing, many of the blocks being ready to fall; but the view from the top justified the risk and toil. The commanding situation of the ancient city is seen to advantage. On a gentle slope of the mountain, overlooking at no great distance the wide plain, then as populous as it is desolate to-day, with plentiful natural supplies of water, rich soil, and thick embowering forests, it was just such a spot as the splendour-loving Herod might well select for lavish adornment. Traces of a hippodrome are found close to this temple, and several of the gardens cultivated by Druzes are surrounded partly by old walls and partly by new walls of old materials. The grouping together of so many noble buildings, within so small space, the graceful shafts of beautiful columns rising in clusters here and there, reminded one of Athens; but the dark stones lacked the dazzling effect of the white marbles on the Acropolis.
The name Kanawât probably points to that the city bore ere it fell into the hands of the conquering Israelites, when it was called Nobah—a name of which there is now no trace. Before the days of Christ the old name had reasserted itself, and Josephus calls it Canatha—a very slight change from the ancient Kenath. The identity of Kanawât with Canatha is certain. It is interesting to observe, all over Palestine, this reappearance of ancient names, and the practical obliteration of those imposed by temporary rulers. The present Beisân is clearly a modification of the old Bethshean, Scythopolis being forgotten. Banias is simply the Arabic form of the Greek Panias, the Arabs having no b; Cæsarea-Philippi is known only to strangers. Beitîn is evidently another case, representing the ancient Bethaven; while Bethel is locally unknown. It would be interesting further to inquire how the characters of the trans-Jordanic tribes affected the nomenclature of the land. They were essentially a pastoral people. This tended to cut them off from the other tribes. They never took kindly to the agricultural life prevalent on the west of Jordan. Their nomadic habits would leave the captured cities more or less open for the return of their inhabitants from the fastnesses to which they had been driven; and of course they would bring the old names with them. Thus Nobah and Bashanhavoth-Jair are names to be found only in the Bible records.