The horses pranced and capered. The procession advanced with singing, clapping of hands to the music, and at times in a kind of stately dance. They headed toward a wide stretch of level ground behind our camp. Passing within the enclosure, those on foot drew themselves up along one side; the horsemen dashed forward at full gallop, and began a series of evolutions which, to Western eyes, seemed to involve every man of them in imminent danger. Not a few of the performances in which they pride themselves are obviously cruel to the animals. Riding at full speed, it is a mark of horsemanship to bring the animal to an absolute stop in an instant, throwing him back on his haunches. In starting, he must spring forward at full speed, like an arrow from the bow. If either of these movements cannot be performed, horse or rider, or both, are condemned. In driving the horses peculiar spurs are employed. The bottom of the Arab stirrup is a broad piece of light iron, the hinder part of which is sharpened. When the foot is slipped forward, this piece of iron projects behind the heel. Driven into the sides of the animal, it cuts almost like a knife. And another mark of horsemanship is that these cuts be as far back as possible. The bridle, too, is an instrument of torture. From the centre of the bit a sharp piece of iron projects inward; a ring attached to the same point drops over the under jaw; the reins are attached to iron rods, which, from the ends of the bit, extend a little way in front of the horse’s mouth, forming thus a curb of terrific power. It is with this instrument the rider can arrest his horse in a moment in mid-career. One can hardly help wishing that, for the sake of the poor animal, he had a touch of its quality himself. An exceptionally “hard-mouthed” horse may require exceptional treatment, but the universal employment of this bridle seems gratuitous cruelty.
Many of their feats, however, are very graceful, and in their performance no little skill is required. Their beautiful wheeling and curving on the level, in which horse and rider seem moulded together, remind one of nothing so much as the fine circlings of an expert skater. Good proficiency is attained when the rider can stoop from the saddle at full gallop and pick up his staff from the ground. In this and similar exercises the horseman on the medân, or racecourse, is always engaged, in intervals of play. Loud were the challenges of the men of Bozrah that festal day, and hearty the responses. Prancing forward, one would touch another with his rumh, and, turning, spur his steed and fly, hotly pursued by the man thus challenged. Then ensued a series of evolutions in which all the skill of the horsemen and all the speed of the horses were brought into play. If the pursuer could put his rumh on the shoulder of his challenger, he received the victor’s meed of applause; but should the challenger’s steed outstrip that of the pursuer, the latter swerved off, and sought to redeem his defeat by a display of skilful horsemanship; and he might count himself fortunate if he reached his place again without a second touch from his conqueror’s rumh. The play over, the procession formed again, the solemn-looking little men in the centre, as before, marched back to the city with music and dancing, and passed away from our sight. We heard, at intervals, the distant roll of the drums and the shrill cry of the women, from which we knew that the festivities were still going on.
On Sundays more than other days one was impressed with the abnormal quiet reigning over the land. Verily, the word of the Lord has been fulfilled: “And you will I scatter among the nations.... Then shall the land enjoy her sabbaths, as long as it lieth desolate, and ye be in your enemies’ land, ... even the rest which it had not in your sabbaths when ye dwelt upon it.” Temple, church, and mosque have risen in succession in her cities, have flourished awhile in splendour, then crumbled into ruin. At last the sabbath rest has fallen upon her.
The name Bozrah signifies a fortress, and must have described the city from very ancient times. It would be of the highest importance to dwellers in the cultivated lands to have here, on their border, a strong defence against the wild rovers from the deserts. So true is this, that it came to be said, “The prosperity of Bozrah is the prosperity of Haurân.”
BOZRAH
This city is probably intended by Jeremiah as included in the denunciation of wrath against Moab and all her cities, “far or near.” It is mentioned in close connection with Kerioth and Beth Gamul, which correspond as nearly as may be in name to Kerîyeh and Umm el-Jamâl—ruined cities in the neighbourhood. Bozrah appears in the Apocrypha and Josephus as Basora. Hither came the heroic Judas Maccabeus. He delivered from imprisonment many of his unfortunate brethren, and destroyed the city, burning it, as far as that was possible, with fire. But withal there were yet glorious days in store for Bozrah. The land passed under the dominion of the Romans. The transjordanic provinces were subdued by Aulus Cornelius Palma. Bozrah he made capital of the province, calling it Nova Trajana Bostra, in honour of the emperor Trajan. This was in A.D. 105, from which date was reckoned the Bostrian era. The old city took a new lease of life, and worthily assumed her place as by far the most important stronghold east of Jordan. Her streets were graced with public buildings of which the proudest city need not have been ashamed. A network of magnificent roads, which even yet are traced across the plains, leading to all the principal towns and cities in the province, found in her its centre. The merchandise of the East, by way of the road from the Persian Gulf, stocked her marts, and the gold and frankincense caravans from Arabia the Happy brought their stores to increase her wealth. The time of her greatest splendour probably fell in the short reign of Philip the Arabian, who, with the wealth of Rome at his command, guided by his Oriental pride and taste, would lavish adornment on the chief city of his native province, embellishing her streets and squares with triumphs of architectural art. Hither came the great Origen, to consult with the Bishop Beryllus, who had gone astray in matters of faith and doctrine; and he met with far greater success than the most doughty warriors for orthodoxy may ever hope for, if they regard the heretic as one only to be hunted out and prosecuted. Something might be learned from the methods of Origen, who, in brotherly and friendly converse, convinced the erring bishop, and saved him to the Church. Subsequently the city became the seat of an archbishop. It maintained its fame as a commercial and military centre down to the Mohammedan conquest. Bozrah was the first Syrian city invested by the Arabians. The intrepid and skilful soldier, Khâlid, surnamed “The sword of God,” commanded the Moslems. While planted before the fortress, the Mohammedans, in the absence of water, performed their ablutions with sand. In the first encounter with Christians outside the walls, the Moslems were entirely victorious. The former shut themselves up in the city, and mounted banners and crosses upon the walls, as if expecting divine intervention, by this means, in their favour. The governor, Romanus, counselling surrender, was deposed as a traitor, and another put in his place. Smarting under the double insult, he resolved to revenge himself by selling the city to the enemy. Through his treachery many valorous Moslem youths were introduced into the city, in the garb of ordinary citizens, and posted in various quarters. At a given signal, the Moslem war-cry, Allah Akbar, resounded over the city. The defenders were thrown into confusion, the inhabitants into consternation and despair. The gates were thrown open, and the city, with little bloodshed, passed into the hands of the Mohammedans, who retain it still. In the days of the Crusades it was still an important stronghold, practically the key to the possession of the eastern provinces. Baldwin III. cast his forces in vain against the rock-like walls. But the blight of Islâm had fallen upon it. Gradually its splendour faded; its well-stocked marts were emptied; the sound of busy footsteps on its pavements died away; earthquakes shook down its temples and destroyed its public buildings; no hand was raised to arrest its decay. And now for centuries it has lain mouldering in mournful ruins under the fierce heat of the Syrian sun, blackening in the breath of Time. But surely her season of solitude and desolation must be nearly over. When the long sabbath of the land is past, new life pulsing in all her furrows, the hills and vales resounding with the song of the husbandman, Bozrah must awake from her weary sleep, and put on once again the pleasing garments of prosperity.
CHAPTER IX
Travellers’ troubles—A corner of the desert—The mirage—Dangerous wadies—Lunch in the desert—A “blind” guide—The clerk to the sheyûkh—A milestone—Kalʿat Esdein—Thirst—The uplands of Gilead—Search for water—A Bedawy camp—Terrific thunderstorm.
Long before dawn on Monday morning all was bustle and stir in the camp. We hoped to reach Jerash that evening, but the most conflicting accounts were given of the distance, varying from three days to one long day. The usual road runs west to Derʿat, where it turns southward by way of Remtah. A line direct, across a corner of the desert, is shorter by perhaps fifteen miles. This we proposed to take. In that wide empty land, with never a house, haunted by roving Beduw, a guide was absolutely necessary. With difficulty one was found who had traversed the way before; but he would go only on condition that a friend should also go, to accompany him home again. We were not yet to start, however. A vendor of antiquities entrusted certain old coins, seals, etc., to our cook, who himself did business in that line, in the hope that we might buy. A few purchases were made; but when it came to giving back the remainder, a seal, or stone from a signet ring, was missing. On this, of course, the owner put a fancy price. Imagine a company of pilgrims on their knees, turning up stones and groping in the dust as earnestly as rag-pickers on a heap! The toil was fruitless. The cook was told that suspicion attached to himself; and that if the seal were not forthcoming, the owner should have his price, the same to be duly deducted from the cook’s wages. With an injured air that plainly meant “What shall we hear next?” the worthy ʿAbdu resumed his search, and soon sprang to his feet with the lost seal in his hand. Throwing himself down, he kissed the ground, then casting his eyes upward he fervently exclaimed, el-hamdulillah, “Praise be to God!” The owner seemed least pleased of all. Tying up his treasure in the corner of a napkin, he marched sullenly away, grieving doubtless over ʿAbdu’s provoking luck.