Our tents were pitched under the shadow of the castle, on a threshing-floor, still green with the grass of spring. Our first visitor was a Christian, one of Bozrah’s few inhabitants, whose mouth was full of blasphemies against the Druzes. A companion had received a gunshot wound in a recent skirmish, and now they were plotting revenge. The governor’s letter secured for us a kindly welcome from the officer commanding the garrison, who invited us to drink coffee with him and go over the old castle. It was already known throughout the mountain that we should not move till Monday. Early on Saturday the Druzes began to gather from Salkhad, Kerîyeh, and other villages. A second company of fellahîn from the neighbourhood at the same time assembled at our camp. Their mutual enmities were laid aside or forgotten. Their one anxiety was to get a word of the good hakîm, who might help them in their sickness, or give such advice as might relieve relatives and friends too ill to come themselves. These groups of men, but yesterday, perhaps, engaged in loud quarrels, wounding each other in wrath, now gathered peacefully together, docile as lambs in the hands of the man whom they felt they could trust, formed a striking scene, not soon to be forgotten. Nor can one fail to see what a powerful mediator and reconciler one true representative of the Great Physician among these wild peoples might prove.
Most of the remains of interest are gathered in little space near the crossing of the two main streets, which, as in all the Roman cities we visited, cut the city at right angles. Triumphal arch, baths, tall Corinthian columns with beautiful capitals still in position, and the remains of an old temple lie closely together. Going from the crossing towards the great mosque, we pass an old doorway, all that now remains of what the Arabs call Beit el-Yehûdy—“House of the Jew.” ʿOmâr, second from Mohammed, was and is justly celebrated for the impartiality of his judgments. Tradition saith that during his reign the Moslem governor of Bozrah ruined this Jewish house and built a mosque on the site. The oppressed Jew made his way to Medina, where he found the caliph surrounded by neither pomp nor circumstance that could daunt the poorest client. Hearing his case, ʿOmâr gave him an order, written on the jawbone of an ass, which he found to his hand. Immediately on receiving this order, the governor of Bozrah directed the mosque to be pulled down and the Jew’s house rebuilt and restored to him. Such an incident should be remembered with pride by all worthy Moslems, as illustrating the purity of their early rulers. On the contrary, the Jew who sought simple justice is held as “an execration, and an astonishment, and a reproach.” The inquirer will seek long and diligently ere he find such lofty principle among the judges of Islâm to-day.
The great mosque, tradition says, was built by order of ʿOmâr. Old materials have been freely used in its construction. The court within is adorned with marble columns. These and many stones in the walls bear Greek inscriptions, often sadly mutilated—evidence enough of the antiquity of the materials; for the Arabs knew no Greek, and were often profoundly irritated because Greek prisoners, from whom they hoped to learn something of the enemy, knew no Arabic. One column, bearing in an inscription the Saviour’s name, was doubtless taken from a Christian church. For the building of this latter, in turn, it was probably brought from a heathen temple, more ancient still. The column immediately east of this bears the date 383 Bostrian era = A.D. 489. Only traces remain of the frieze and ornamentation in Cufic and Arabic characters—the adornment chiefly affected by the Moslems. The minaret commands a beautiful view of the surrounding country, but its rickety appearance deterred us from the ascent. The centre of the mosque is filled with debris. Long deserted, its silent court and ruined walls mutely illustrate the decay which ever swiftly follows the advancing shadow of Islâm.
We secured a copy of a long Cufic inscription found on a basaltic slab, by the door of a small mosque. It has been photographed by the American Exploration Society, but I have seen no translation. With the assistance of an intelligent Syrian I went carefully over it, and I think the following fairly represents the sense. It begins as usual, “In the name of God the merciful, the compassionate,” and goes on to enumerate His attributes. He is “the blessed, the opulent, the owner of the world, the just, the incomparable, the invincible, the victorious.” It tells of certain properties devoted by one “Serjenk,” or “Serjek”—for the name seems spelled both ways—“the humble servant of God,” for the benefit of those “who have set free the helpless and friendless from the prisons of infidels, of the widows and orphans of Moslems, of the poor and the sons of the highways,” under certain conditions. It concludes with the declaration that whoever infringes these conditions in the future “will do himself injustice, will prove himself an infidel, and partaker in the blood of Hassan and Husein, and an accomplice of those who do despite to the statutes of God.” Then comes the signature—“the humble servant of God, Serjenk.”
The church and dwelling-house of Boheira are shown here. Of Boheira it is said that he was a monk in this city, and was the first to hail the youthful Mohammed as a coming prophet. Of this event, Ockly has translated the following account given by one Basil: “The caravan of the Koreish came by, with which were Kadijah’s camels, which were looked after by Mohammed. He [Boheira] looked towards the caravan, in the middle of which was Mohammed; and there was a cloud upon him to keep him from the sun. Then the caravan alighted, and Mohammed leaning against an old withered tree, it immediately brought forth leaves. Boheira perceiving this, made an entertainment for the caravan, and invited them into the monastery, Mohammed staying behind with the camels. Boheira, missing him, asked if there were all of them. Yes, they said, all but a little boy they had left to look after their things and feed the camels. ‘What is his name?’ says Boheira. They told him Mohammed ibn ʿAbdullah. Boheira asked if his father and mother were not dead, and if he was not brought up by his grandfather and uncle. Being satisfied that it was so, he said: ‘O Koreish! set a great value upon him, for he is your lord, and by him will your power be great both in this world and in that to come: for he is your ornament and glory.’ They asked him how he knew that. ‘Because,’ answered Boheira, ‘as you were coming, there was never a tree nor a stone nor a clod but bowed itself and worshipped God.’ Boheira, besides, told this Basil that a great many prophets had leaned against this tree, and sat under it, but it never bore any leaves before since it was withered. ‘And I heard him say,’ says this same Basil, ‘this is the prophet concerning whom ʿIsa [Jesus] spake, Happy is he that believes him, and follows him, and gives credit to his mission.’”
That Mohammed met Boheira seems certain. But exactly what their relations were it is not easy to say. The Syrian Christians believed that he followed “the prophet,” and largely assisted him in the composition of his “messages” or “revelations.” They say he supplied the biblical information used for Mohammed’s purposes in the Korʾân. The number of Jews, however, who long ere Mohammed’s time had settled in el-Yemen suggests a more convenient source for his knowledge, such as it was, of the Torah; but for his acquaintance with Christianity he may possibly have been indebted to some renegade like Boheira. And if his (Boheira’s) understanding of the words of Jesus be illustrated in the phrase quoted above, what wonder if his religion did not greatly impress such a mind as Mohammed’s! In any case, it was in his Syrian journeys that he must have come into contact with Christianity. However bootless, it is impossible to help regretting that the master mind of the Arabian peninsula should have seen our religion only in the debased form then prevalent in these regions. Had it been ordered otherwise, the whole history of the East might have run in nobler channels.
Close by a second Roman archway stands a large ruined house, abounding in carved and sculptured stones, known as Kasr-Melek el-Asfar. At Zorʿa there is also a “palace of the yellow king.”
The fortress is built around and upon the old Roman theatre, which, contrary to expectation in such circumstances, is well preserved. There are vast underground apartments, and cisterns which would supply water for a large garrison through a siege of many months. Subterranean passages, the natives say, lead to a great distance in several directions.
Such an important place as Bozrah was bound to claim to be the birthplace of Philip; nor would it be complete without some relation to Job. Accordingly, an “ancient tradition” is forthcoming to the effect that the patriarch dwelt in the country near the city.
On Saturday afternoon we heard the sounds of music and drums proceeding from the town, and high over all the peculiarly shrill, wavering cry uttered by Eastern women in times of excitement, whether of grief or joy. The tramp of horses on the pavement, and the tread of many feet, told of the approach of a procession. Soon a company of horsemen swept into view, youthful, well mounted, armed with the long rumh, or Arab spear, accompanied by a crowd of all ages, clad in holiday attire of brilliant colours. Riding in the procession were several little boys, who seemed to have little interest in the affair, and to be, on the whole, not a little bored by it. It was a bridal procession—an occasion of special joy, since not one but four marriages were being celebrated. The enthusiasm lacking on the part of the dressed-up, solemn-looking little bridegrooms was made up for amply by the excited people who surrounded their horses, dancing, singing, shouting, and clapping their hands. A band with drums and timbrels went in front. On the wrists and ankles of the women glittered rude bracelets; heavy rings ornamented their fingers; nor was the nose-jewel entirely absent. Their heads were covered with light kerchiefs of varied hues, the corners tied under the chin, while the hair hung down in long, heavy plaits behind, often loaded with coins, which might be the dowry of the women who wore them. The men wore the kufîyeh and ʿakal—the “kerchief” and “thick hair fillet”—on their heads, with the Arab coat of goats’-hair over their under-garments. Those who were not barefooted wore the common red shoes so dear to the Arab.