CHAPTER IV

HAIFA AND CARMEL

"Traversing this fertile country one is more and more impressed with the incorrectness of the judgment of the ordinary tourist who, confining himself to the route prescribed by Cook, is taken through the barren hills of Judæa and to one or two holy places in Galilee, and then goes home and talks about the waste and desolation of Palestine."—LAURENCE OLIPHANT

The early hours of the next morning were devoted to sketching and photography, and after a midday lunch we mounted for a ride, of some nine hours, to Haifa. We soon found ourselves back in the plain, with the great precipice of Carmel before us for our goal. The general features of the country were the same as yesterday, except that we had the River Kishon for our companion. Even the slight amount of rain which had fallen had had its effect here, and the road in parts was heavy enough to disconcert the horses, who picked their way as daintily as if they remembered nothing of the fact that it had rained, with considerable mud as a result, even in their own royal city of Jerusalem, only nine months ago. We could not wonder, however, that the River Kishon should have swept away the hosts of Sisera, for on ground such as this the horse-hoofs might well be "broken by means of the prancings," and nine hundred chariots of iron, hemmed in between the river and the steep hillside, would have a very poor chance, especially in the rainy season, which one may imagine it to have been, as Jael, whom one thinks of as of the Medici, or the knitting-women of the Fronde, "brought forth butter in a lordly dish"; and butter, except at a prohibitive price, at a convent or two in Jerusalem, is not to be had in the summer months. Surely so vile a woman was never celebrated in song!

The flowers were an endless feast; never had we seen anemones of so many shades, and perhaps the greatest event of the day was the finding of the first jonquils, _narcissus tazetta_. We had been watching their deep green homes for the last three days, but this was the first time we had been rewarded. Both the Doctors contrived to possess themselves, upon an island in the river, although with some difficulty, of a great handful of the sweet-smelling blooms, the firstlings of our New Year's Day. A few minutes later we came to a couple of bridges, one for the railway and one for the road, and from that point we were more or less in sight of the railway all the time. Some of the horses made a great fuss about the passing of a train, for, although the line is not yet formally open for passenger traffic, a train runs every day in each direction for the convenience of the engineers. Just at sunset, after about eight hours' travelling, we came in view of the lights of Haifa, twinkling along the shore, with only the palms and minarets to dispel the illusion that it might be Brighton or Hastings. Carmel was before us, the great landmark of the Palestine coast, boldly leaping out into the sea, its lighthouse throwing out a friendly welcome, rather, perhaps, than a warning, to those who go down to the sea in ships. This is the one spot on all the Syrian coast remotely resembling a harbour; elsewhere are only ledges for sea-birds, rocks inviting to wreckage, and Nile sand brought up by the currents flowing north. The Phœnicians, of whom alone among all the inhabitants of Syria we can think as a seafaring people, traded from farther north. Little wonder that the people of such a land should welcome the promise, so strange to other ears: "There shall be no more sea!" For many months in the year the inhabitants of Judæa can count on letters only "if they can land at Jaffa," and constantly, even when mail-bags can be tossed into the small boats, which alone can come ashore, passengers are carried past, northward to Beirut, or south to Egypt, to make a fresh attempt, often two or three times repeated; and every year has its record of drowning and disaster.

Sir John Maundeville, who is never at a loss to account for anything that comes in his way, gravely assures us that there was here formerly "a good city of the Christians called Caiphas, because Caiaphas first founded it." The town of Haifa (the Arabic name being variously transliterated Haifa and Caifa) is the old Sycaminum; the modern town, however, stands farther within the bay than the old, the ruins of which are still visible at the foot of Mount Carmel. It was built in the middle of the eighteenth century by Dhaher, a famous governor of the neighbouring Acre or Akko, which is the old Ptolemais.

Our quarters at Haifa were at the farther end of the town, and after passing through streets which, though better than in many places, are decidedly Oriental as to width, paving, and dirt, it was reposeful to find ourselves in the German colony—a picturesque European village: wide streets planted with trees, well-kept roads, gardens gay with flowers, and houses which seem to have been transported from some quaint, old country town, each with its text in "black letter" over the door. One, above all others, was to some among us almost a place of pilgrimage, with all its associations of a man of genius unappreciated, misunderstood—one of the many messengers who, with hands laden with gifts, sought to come unto his own, and his own received him not!

+Wohl denen, die das Gebot halten und thun immerdar Recht.+ +Hans Oliphant.+

Not England, and not America, carry on his work of—literally—sweetness and light, but the Germans. Haifa is practically a German town so far as its trade, agriculture, and property are concerned. Even the Russian, American, and, till lately, the English consuls are Germans, and most officials, of whatever nationality, reside in the colony. The hotels, shops, and banks are German. The Roman Catholic hospital and hospice are in the hands of a German sisterhood; the sanatorium on Mount Carmel with its luxurious accommodation and extensive grounds, _rendezvous_ of English missionaries, is conducted by Germans.

The Scottish medical mission, here as elsewhere preaching the Gospel of good deeds, has an admirable hospital. _The Jerusalem and the East Mission_ has a chaplain. The great hospice on Mount Carmel is maintained by the Carmelite Fathers. Out of 12,000 inhabitants half are Moslems, sixteen hundred Jews, and about a thousand Greek, Orthodox, and Latins. Of the six hundred Europeans, five hundred are Germans; the rest of the population is mainly Maronite and Greek Catholic.

Plain living and high thinking are, of course, the ideal of life, but there is a joy in unpacking, in a hot bath, in a white table-cloth. Our companions at table were mainly German engineers and contractors, at work on the new railway. We regretted that we were too late to see the opening ceremony of a few days before, which seems to have presented some interesting features, and was certainly a triumph for the Turkish Government. In spite of its execution having been German—for even when in English hands its surveyor was Dr Schumacher, the German-American Vice-Consul—the Moslem ownership of the railway has not been lost sight of, and it is an interesting anomaly that its inauguration was accompanied by the sacrifice of several sheep. Their throats were cut, the blood poured upon the soil, and the flesh roasted and given to the poor. This is done "for a blessing." How far this savage ceremony is a perpetuation of the Old Testament idea of propitiating the Deity, how far it is done to avert the attention of the _jinn_, it is impossible to say. Similar ceremonies are performed, both by Moslems and Christians, at the initiation of any undertaking,[3] from the opening of public works to the building of a dwelling-house, the anointing with blood being a necessary element.

To our great regret we were now to lose our friend "Baedeker," to whom we owed so much of pleasure and information. We had given him, in return, much valuable advice on how to construct a guide-book, framed on the analogy of certain specimens beloved of tourists, from which we had culled choice extracts for frequent quotation, the general principles of which seemed to be hasty generalisation and the inculcation of moral lessons. We may incidentally mention that the longer and better one knows Syria the more one learns to appreciate the blessings of Baedeker and to value its extreme accuracy, even in the smallest particulars.

We devoted the next day to renewing our stock of provisions at the excellent shops, visiting friends, and, finally, to a ride up Mount Carmel. Last year an Austrian boat, the _Posseidon_, came ashore in this very treacherous harbour, and among other passengers rescued from the wreck were a cat and kittens, belonging to the son of the captain. These kittens found a kindly welcome among the German population, and in two houses were introduced to our notice with much pride. They were evidently accustomed to attention, for their self-esteem exceeded that of even other cats "subject to vanity," and their Angora lineage, short faces, tufted ears, bushy tales, and black toes justified their claim to admiration. The Arab cat leaves little to be desired as to pelage, but, as a rule, his markings, black on white, would disgrace a fox-terrier. He is, for the most part, well treated in Palestine, and, in consequence, extremely intelligent; but, like the Arabs themselves, and the Arab donkeys, is too much _en evidence_ for perfect good breeding, and his "flashes of silence" are very occasional, and generally due to sleep or food.

The ride up Mount Carmel was an occasion never to be forgotten. The new carriage road climbs the four hundred and eighty feet which lead to the convent in wide sweeps, and is very easy; but the direct ascent is abrupt, and the views proportionately impressive. Northward, the crescent-shaped bay terminated in Acre, with all its associations of crusading times; while far below us Haifa, and all its gardens, offered, perhaps, the most smiling and prosperous picture which Palestine had ever shown us. The detached houses, buried in trees; the unwonted completeness and order of the cultivation; the miles of terraced vineyards, parents of the excellent Haifa wine; the picturesque German colony; the estates of Selim Effendi Khuri—the millionaire of a district in which are many rich men, mainly Germans; the orange and lemon gardens, with their wealth of fruit, here a flame of bougainvilea, there a bower of fragrant jessamine, at intervals a group of stately palms—where else can we find a prospect such as this?

And then, when we reached the top, was there ever such a rock garden as extends for miles along the summit of Carmel, the mountain which travellers abuse, and for which guide-books apologise? Did ever a January sky shine over a more marvellous wealth of beauty and of promise? Rocks of limestone and hornstone; a general effect of greenness, kept fresh at all times of the year owing to the neighbourhood of the sea and the constant dews; scattered shade of sapling oaks, of carobs, hawthorns, elders, Guelder-roses, pomegranates, acacias, almonds now laden with bloom, arbutus, and tamarisks; an undergrowth of azalea, genista, rock-rose, juniper, a tangle of the glorious clematis _cirrhosa_, with its delicate greenish blossom; myrtles, and "the slender galingale"; ferns in every shady nook—the _felis-mas_, _asplenium-trichomanes_, the scented fern; _cheilanthes-fragrans_, the waving maiden-hair—a feast of colour and sweetness; cyclamen, crimson, pink, and white; hyacinths, blue; chrysanthemums, golden; mandrakes, royal purple; periwinkle, sapphire; anemone _coronaria_, scarlet, purple, pink, white; the stately narcissus and sweet jonquils; crocuses, golden, purple, and white. And then the promise! How we longed to wait a week or two, as we watched the strong green swords of the bulbous and tuberous plants preparing to defend their coming treasure; the irises, great and small; the gladioli, the squills, the star of Bethlehem, the hyacinths, the arums, the orchises. Soon, too, there would be adonis, red and yellow; scarlet ranunculus, chrysanthemums, and later, asphodels, lupins, scented stocks, lychnis, geraniums of many kinds, centaureas, valerian and a hundred other blooms, which had sent no word of their coming, and at which we could only guess. To catalogue only seems a sort of profanation.

"I touch, But cannot praise; I love too much."

There, for the first time, we saw the beautiful little sun-bird, although it is said to be common in the Jericho district. To the uninstructed it is a humming-bird, although one is assured that they exist only in the New World. It is little over four inches long, radiantly attired in purple, green, and blue, with brilliant orange tufts upon his shoulders, a wonderful metallic sheen over all, and a long, curved bill. The little lady who accompanies him, though far more humbly dressed, is also dainty and fascinating in brown shot with green. Another tiny bird which gave us much delight was the long-tailed wren, _drymæca gracilis_, which runs up tamarisk-trees like a tit, with a little fan spread open behind it.

The scene gave a new meaning to familiar words: "The desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose. It shall blossom abundantly: the glory of Lebanon shall be given unto it, the excellency of Carmel and Sharon." The flowers of Lebanon and Sharon are also a joy and delight to the beauty-loving eye, but to our fancy the excellency of Carmel is supreme. The mountain at its highest point is less than two thousand feet, but, rising sheer from the sea, is more imposing than many mountains of greater elevation. The entire length of the range does not exceed fifteen miles; but as only two villages, occupied mainly by Druses and Greek Catholics, occur to break its solitude, wild beasts—jackals, hyænas, wild boars, and even occasional panthers—are still more or less in possession, although the cultivation of vines for the famous Haifa vintage, has carried civilisation and humanity to a considerable distance.

Of course, we visited the convent, with all its hospitalities and its interesting historical associations: its memories of pious anchorites, of their union, in the fifth century, with one of the earliest religious orders; of the Benedictines who, early in the ninth century, built the Church of St Margaret; of St Louis; of massacres which laid desolate the convent; of the church turned into a mosque; and finally of the restoration of the order, with permission to rebuild. The monastery was used as a hospital when Napoleon besieged Acre, and the wounded, murdered by the Turks, lie under a small pyramid in the convent garden. Destroyed once more by the Pasha of Acre in 1821, the buildings have been again restored on a scale to accommodate the large pilgrimages which come every year from Europe. Even more humble pilgrims, natives or Hindoos—for "the grotto of Elijah" and the "school of the prophets" are venerated also by Moslems—are not forgotten, and a special building is provided for them at the base of the lighthouse, which is under the care of the monastery. It is said that an Italian, Brother Giovanni of Frascati, is the real author of the reconstruction of the Carmelite prosperity, for, sent by the general of the order to inquire into the condition of things, he found only wrecked walls, and, as sole survivor of the order, a single brother, who had taken refuge in Haifa. A firman was obtained from Constantinople, and the two brothers devoted themselves to the collection of funds, with such results that in 1827, six years after its destruction, a new foundation stone was laid by Giovanni himself. Liberal gifts must have followed, for, though severe in style, the buildings are very spacious and solid, and include a good library, very handsome church, oratory, and chapter-house.

A small chamber, little more than a cave, said to have been the habitation of the three poor Carmelites who inaugurated the return of the order in 1636, has been recently converted into a chapel dedicated to St Simon Stock, the Kentishman who was general of the order in Palestine in 1245.

We lingered to see the sunset clouds gather above the Mediterranean, and then rode over the top of the ridge, and so back to the town, almost grudging to go indoors as the stars sprang out and the red roofs and green palms and olives of the German village faded away into greys and purples. After dinner we had the privilege of examining Dr Schumacher's precious little museum at the American consulate, and of seeing the map of his survey of the East Jordanland, the first that has yet been completed.

[3] Curtiss, _op. cit._ Chap. xiv.