Read Ebook: Arab and Druze at home by Ewing W William

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Very imposing are the walls which still in great part surround the old city; more imposing still is the ancient gateway, by which we entered from the north, although it is now partially blocked with ruins. Immediately within the gate, the iron-shod hoofs clanked merrily on an excellently preserved pavement. This is the great street running from north to south, dividing the city, and the pavement appears to be entire. I do not think a better example of this kind of Roman workmanship is anywhere to be seen. On either hand were the dreary blackened ruins with which we were now so familiar, while before us we could see the forms of tall columns rising into the twilight sky. We saw no trace of inhabitants until we reached the south-western quarter, which alone is occupied.

A strange, rambling old house it was into which we entered by a narrow winding passage from the left corner of the courtyard. First we found ourselves in a series of great gloomy apartments communicating with each other in a line east and west; then, turning to the right, we scrambled through a doorway, the broken threshold of which was some feet above the level of the floor; and, pushing forward, we entered a second courtyard, much smaller than the first, with rooms all round, on one side two stories high. Some remains of ancient ornamentation were still visible on the walls, and the pavement of the yard was evidently from of old. Here were our quarters for the night, the gentlemen having two little rooms, one of which served as dining-room, on one side, and the ladies a larger room on the other. The stair leading up to the gentlemen's apartments had been failing for centuries, and now was nigh unto falling; but, observing great caution, we all escaped without accident.

The material employed in their construction, like that of all the buildings in the city, is basalt, and in parts the appearance is very fine; but no adequate idea of their original splendour can now be formed. The rows of gaping holes in the walls tell of the lining of marble with which they were once adorned. The destruction of this was doubtless dictated by the desire to possess the iron fastenings by which the marble slabs were held in position, and the lead by which these were fixed into the walls--a temptation which the cupidity of the Arabs would make it extremely difficult for them to resist The water channels are skilfully built into the walls, and from the points at which they project we may guess where the baths were placed; but the floors are now entirely heaped over with ruins. The walls are still over thirty feet in height, and of great strength. Most interesting of all, in connection with the baths, is the old aqueduct, by which the water was conducted across the low valley to the eastward from the hills beyond. Several of the substantial arches are still standing, and the line can be traced away towards the eastern uplands. Eleven or twelve miles was the water brought to minister to the comfort of the splendid, luxury-loving Roman.

These and other similarly great structures we owe to the ancients' ignorance of the principles of hydrostatics. Only when we gaze upon such vast undertakings, where the channel was raised by artificial means, so that the water might flow along a regularly inclined plane, do we fully realise what an immense saving of labour the discovery of these simple principles has proved to the modern world.

The remarkable facial likeness to the Jews found among the people east of the Jordan leads one to wonder if there is not a closer relationship than that of cousinship between the two races--if, in short, the eastern tribes did not in the end mingle freely with their nomadic neighbours, and thus become gradually alienated in sympathy from the people and religion of Israel, as they were already separated from them by the mighty gorge of Jordan. It was this very calamity the prophetic foresight of their fathers sought to obviate, when they erected the gigantic altar of witness "in the forefront of the land of Canaan, in the region about Jordan, on the side that pertaineth to the children of Israel." It should be an altar of witness to succeeding generations of the unity of the people, lest the children of the tribes westward should be tempted at any time to say, "What have ye to do with the Lord, the God of Israel? For the Lord hath made a border between us and you." The real danger lay in another direction. Thus there was a certain fitness in the fact that these eastward tribes were the first to bear the brunt of the great invasions from the north by which Israel was scourged.

The school had been summarily closed by the authority of the Government, to the sorrow of the villagers, who were beginning to appreciate the advantage of a rudimentary education. There is a great field for missionary enterprise--medical by preference--in all this region. The missionary's efforts would find assistance in the generous instincts of the people themselves. They are yet uncorrupted by the unhappy influences associated with the passage of the great travelling public. These are often, unfortunately, all of civilisation known to the untutored inhabitants; and the barriers thus raised against the missionary and his work can be fully appreciated only by those who have had them to face.

HERE, as at every point touched in our journey, we had ample evidence of the prevalence of sickness and suffering, and of the crying necessity for competent medical aid. The weak and diseased are a prey to every travelling quack, and they bore in their bodies only too convincing proof of their simple-hearted confidence in men who professed to be able to relieve them. Ruined eyes and maimed limbs told only too plainly what havoc unscrupulous men work among these trustful people. The quack hopes to pass but once in any given way, and cares but little for the results of his operations if only he make present gain. The name of the good doctor wrought like magic. Almost before we could realise it the camp was surrounded by patients; a motley gathering they were--Moslem, Druze, and Christian; men, women, and children, of all ages, clad in richly varied costumes; they came forward, one by one, to tell of their sufferings, and receive what help was possible. Not unpleasantly the time passed, examining antique coins, making cautious purchases, and engaging the more intelligent in conversation about their town and district, until the cheerful voice of the dinner-bell summoned us within.

As we here take leave of the towns and villages of the Druzes, we may look for a little at the faith, the character, and recent history of this strange people in these parts.

The Druzes believe in the transmigration of souls. It has been erroneously held that they receive this doctrine in a modified form, not thinking it possible that a human soul should enter one of the lower animals. This is not so. At the very moment of his mother's death, a calf was born in the herd of a Druze, and he firmly believed that the soul of his mother dwelt in that calf. Along with this, they believe in a series of human lives for the individual in different forms. No man knows if in the first youth he meets he may not salute the spirit of his grandfather. The destination of the soul on parting from the body is determined by the manner in which it has lived: if well, it will be born again in happier conditions; if ill, its next existence will be fraught with pain and sorrow. It is an article of their faith that births do not increase, deaths do not diminish, the actual number of Druzes in existence. That number is known to God only, but it is fixed and unchangeable forever. Birth brings not a new spirit into being, but only begins a new life for one already existing. Death does not slay a spirit, but only introduces the living into a new form of existence. No one born of true Druze parentage can ever become anything else, and no one born of Christian or other parents can ever become a Druze.

We visited the district in April 1890. There was an evident alertness in all the bearing of the men. We could descry numerous figures on walls and roofs long before we reached any place of importance; and, coming nearer, we saw that our approach was eagerly watched until our peaceful appearance satisfied the sentinels. The fact was that even then affairs had taken an unpleasant turn; and only ten days after we passed the seceding sheikhs had to flee for their lives, and the Government resorted to arms to quell "the rebellion," as it was called. On their part the Druzes, under popular chiefs, cheerfully prepared for the fray.

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.

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.

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.

Silence as of death had fallen over the mountains; not a leaf stirred in the trees around us; sheep and oxen huddled closely together beside the hair houses of their masters; and the clouds hung dark and threatening, like birds of evil omen poised in the sky above us. The darkness overhead was cloven as by a flaming scimitar, and out rushed a stream of living fire, that spread for a moment over the hills like a curtain of gleaming light, to which every particular leaf responded with individual glitter. The thunder roared and bellowed through all that empty land, like the mingling of the tornado with the voice of many waters. The earth shook as if the very hills were being hurled headlong in divine displeasure. The rain fell in torrents, and beating on the taut canvas of our tents, served to increase the uproar. It is impossible to exaggerate the grandeur of the scene. Not till then could I fully appreciate the majestic realism of the famous old song of the thunderstorm, Psalm xxix. Surely it was after witnessing a storm like this that the Psalmist penned these marvellous descriptive verses:

The voice of the Lord is upon the waters: The God of glory thundereth, Even the Lord upon many waters. The voice of the Lord is powerful; The voice of the Lord is full of majesty. The voice of the Lord breaketh the cedars; Yea, the voice of the Lord breaketh in pieces the cedars of Lebanon. He maketh them also to skip like a calf; Lebanon and Sirion like a young wild-ox. The voice of the Lord cleaveth the flames of fire. The voice of the Lord shaketh the wilderness; The Lord shaketh the wilderness of Kadesh. The voice of the Lord maketh the hinds to calve, And strippeth the forests bare.--PSALM xxix. 3-9.

As one reads, all seems to pass before him again in unparalleled grandeur. In the midst of a scene like this, how completely one is cast back upon the Lord Himself.

The Lord sitteth as King for ever. The Lord will give strength unto His people; The Lord will bless His people with peace.

Morning on the mountains--Arab time--Tents and encampments--The Women and their work--Arab wealth--Scenes at the wells--Dogs--Arabian hospitality--Desert pests--Strange code of honour--The blood feud--Judgment of the elders--Arab and horse--The Arabs and religion--The Oriental mind--Arab visit to Damascus.

The Arab "houses," as they call them, are made of goats'-hair, spun and woven by the women into long strips, about fifteen inches wide. The weft is stretched on a frame; the woof is worked in by the women's fingers, and drawn up tightly with what looks like a huge, short-toothed, wooden comb. Dark brown and white are the colours mostly employed. These strips are sewn together with hair thread, into pieces of sufficient breadth. Two poles are set up at each end of the space to be covered. Over these the roof-cloth is stretched by means of cords fastened to the ends, and attached to pins firmly fixed in the ground. As many poles as are needed to support the roof are introduced in the body of the "house," and over these, by side cords, tied as at the ends, to pegs in the ground, the cloth is drawn taut. Often sufficient cloth is made for only one end and one side of the "house." This is fastened under the eaves, and is moved round with the sun, so as to afford shade all day. This haircloth, once thoroughly wet, draws so tightly together as to be perfectly waterproof. Many think its rain-resisting qualities are improved by the smoke of greenwood fires. It is the business of the women to put up the "house"; and among them it is reckoned a high accomplishment to be able, with a single blow of the wooden mallet, to drive the tent peg home. Jael the Kenite brought a practised hand to drive the tent peg through the brow of the sleeping Sisera.

The tents of an encampment are set end to end, with about the space of a "house" between them. There may be but a single row, as in the case of those with whom we had spent the night; but if the number is large there may be two rows, forming a kind of street. The place of honour is at the right hand as one enters the encampment; and at either end this position is occupied by one of sheikhly rank. The status of the householder may usually be inferred from the size of his house; and this is reckoned by the number of poles necessary to sustain it. The chief's tent in the larger tribes provides accommodation for many guests.

To every camp is attached a number of dogs, that belong in a general way to the community. They are ferocious brutes, and it is by no means safe for a stranger to approach them alone. They seem to be asleep most of the day, and awake most of the night. They are trusty guardians of the flocks during the dark hours, from beasts of prey, their voices of challenge giving the herdsmen due warning of their enemies' approach.

It is curious that the Arab should feel himself relieved from all obligation if he meet the stranger in the open; while if the latter can but touch the most distant peg or cord of the tent, he is absolutely safe. To provide for the security of his guest is a point of highest honour with the Arab; and his comfort is considered before anything else. He is made "master of the house" while he stays. The owner will not sit down unless the guest invites him; nor will he eat until the guest is satisfied. To eat under the same roof, or from the same dish, constitutes a bond of brotherhood. The host is responsible for the safety of his guest, as far as his authority or ability extends: the guest is bound in every way to consider the honour and credit of his host. The protection of the stranger may even anticipate his arrival at the tent. If in peril, he may take shelter under the name of some powerful sheikh. When he utters this name, it becomes the duty of all to assist him in reaching his protector's dwelling. Any injury done to him is an outrage upon the man, who, thus invoked, becomes his patron and avenger. So in the name of the Lord are deliverance and safety found . The guest may claim entertainment for three days and three nights. The host may require him to stay so long. If he stay beyond this period, the stranger may have to do some work--a provision, probably, against idlers and hangers-on. The guest may abide continually in the "house" of his host only by becoming identified with the family through marriage or adoption .

The guest is expected to show appreciation of the viands supplied in ways not open to one in polite society. In drinking coffee, for example, he should noisily draw it in with his breath, smack his lips, and declare its excellence. But he must offer no payment for his entertainment. This would be regarded as insult. The Arab eats not in the morning; the guest departs with a simple "good-bye." He has had no more than his right; presently his host will enjoy the like kindness at his own or some other brother's hand. The recognition of this obligation to the needy stranger must often have been the very condition of life to wanderers in waste lands.

Like the "bruisers" at home, the Arabs have a code of honour in regard to hostile encounters; but it refers not to the manner of the blow and the part where it falls. It has to do with the weapon. To strike a man with the fist, or with a blunt instrument of any kind, is to put a heavy insult upon him. On the other hand, to strike with a sharp weapon, or smite with the edge of the sword, may be criminal, but it involves no disgrace.

We have referred to the religious connection of certain Arab customs. From this it might be inferred that they are a religious people. This is strictly true. Nominally they are Moslems; but their religious knowledge is scanty at best, and their thinking far from clear.

Give to a rude, untutored people the simple idea of the unity of God, without any conception of His moral character, together with the further idea that they are His peculiar favourites, and you have prepared the way for a descent not to be thought of without a shudder. If, after long generations, we find this people one "whose heart is not right with God," "whose mouth is full of cursing and deceit," our wonder may be, not so much that they are fallen so low, as that they have preserved their nobler institutions and maintained themselves as well as they have done against the tides of corruption. And there are signs of a yearning among them for better things. Let one authentic story suffice.

Going forward, we met a cart of antique shape, drawn by a team of oxen, guided by a sturdy Circassian, who was seated in front. The cart was long, narrow, and deep; the axles were wide, and the wheels low. It resembled those still to be seen in many country districts on the continent of Europe. The type may have been introduced into this country by the German colonists. These carts are the only wheeled vehicles used as yet by agriculturists in Palestine, of whom, next to the Germans, the Circassians are perhaps the most successful. We spoke to the driver, but received for reply only a bow, and sundry gestures by which he manifestly sought to make himself agreeable, from which it could also be inferred that he knew no Arabic. Our way led round the left shoulder of a little hill, and down a gentle incline, when, suddenly, almost the whole extent of the ruins on the southern bank of the stream came into view. Men and animals were gladdened by the cheerful sound of flowing water. Just where the road turns sharply to the right towards the ancient city gate, we struck an irrigation channel, full of clear, cool water. After a general scramble for the refreshing liquid, in which riders and horses seemed to mingle indiscriminately, spectacles, etc., being dropped into the stream and duly fished up again, we assumed a more dignified attitude, and prepared to enter the city. On the height to the right were several empty sarcophagi and burial caverns. We traversed the whole length of the city on the northern side of the valley, and pitched our tents under the cliffs just outside the boundary, beyond a copious fountain, over which remains of Greek buildings are still standing. It was yet early afternoon, and most of us were at once drawn forth to see the splendid ruins.

Beyond this, on rising ground, close to the ancient city wall, are the ruins of a large theatre and temple. The rows of stone seats in the former are well preserved. The slopes in front are literally heaped with great stones and pieces of colossal columns, while the amount of building underground seems almost equal to what is seen above. The acoustics of these theatres are perfect. Once, with some friends, I made trial of that at Gadara; the lowest articulate sounds were audible throughout the entire building. A little to the east of the temple, a road leads off directly to the south, passing under a triumphal arch, dating, probably, from the time of Trajan. To the west of the road, just inside the triumphal arch, lay the Naumachia , without which these cities would seem to have been incomplete. Westward, outside the city wall, are great numbers of sarcophagi. This, apparently, was the chief ancient burying-ground. Nowhere, not even at Gadara where these are numerous, have I seen so many stony receptacles of the dead lying exposed. All have been opened long ago, many of the lids being broken, no doubt, in the feverish search for hidden treasure.

We took the more easterly of two possible roads--the longer, but also the easier for the animals. The greater variety and beauty of the scenery repay the extra travel. The descent into the Jabbok valley winds down a narrow ravine, turning sharply round jutting crags, and, in parts, almost precipitous. Oaks and thorns clung to the steeps; luxuriant vegetation covered the ground. The fertile soil of the valley supported a fine crop of wheat. The line of the river could be traced by a winding glory of oleander bloom, overtopped by tall, gracefully-bending papyrus reeds, whose heavy heads swayed in the breeze. Reaching the "brook," we found the bed more than half dry, but even thus the water took the horses above the saddle-girths. With a short struggle, we all landed safely on the other side. During the winter months this must be a perfectly impassable torrent.

On the farther bank we sat to rest and lunch. The horses too refreshed themselves before facing the steep mountain in front. We gathered bunches of papyrus heads--an operation requiring both care and skill, as we found the undergrowth bound together with trailing brambles, furnished with the sharpest of prickles. Two square towers stand one at each end of the meadow in which we halted. They have not the appearance of great antiquity. There is no entrance to their interior, and their use we were unable to discover.

The village stands on the edge of the gorge through which we had passed. The mountains tower aloft on either side. The valley narrows southward, but to the north it opens out into a broad, fertile expanse, bounded by the mountains, torn with water-courses, which form the southern bank of the gorge of the Jabbok.

The stronghold, the thought of attacking which gave cold shivers to the Turkish soldiery, could not daunt the high-hearted soldiers of the Cross. With admirable courage, in the true spirit of Christian heroism, a missionary and his wife braved all the dangers in the way, and made for themselves a home in the midst of these people. That they had dangers not a few to face, and many privations to endure, needs hardly to be said. But these "things did not move them"; and the bold warrior Arab learned to love the man of peace, and prize him as a friend. Who knows whether the Cross may not soon triumph where the crescent so long struggled for supremacy in vain!

We shouldered our guns, and, armed with ball cartridge, set out to beat the brushwood in the hope of starting game of this class. Perhaps it was as well for ourselves that we were disappointed; but a gun in a man's hand adds marvellously to his powers of endurance in walking, so we were able to explore the shady banks of the river, and attain a fuller knowledge of its windings. The bridge was photographed with a group in front as a souvenir of our visit; then, sending the muleteers straight to Jericho with tents and baggage, we prepared to ride towards the sea, with the intention of returning to Jericho for the night. Our road wound among the sand-dunes for some distance. Here we were charged to keep close together. The advice was necessary. Had one lingered behind, and by any mischance lost the way, he might have wandered long enough in the labyrinth formed by these little sand-hills, which resemble each other so closely as to be distinguished only by the trained eye. They are the haunts of robbers too, who, in the multitudinous winding hollows, may easily escape pursuit.

We did not go so far down as the fords and famous bathing-place; but on a subsequent occasion I saw something of the extraordinary scenes enacted there--a great company of Russian pilgrims, men, women, and children, plunging promiscuously into the sacred river. Most wore a thin linen garment as they went down into the water. This is afterwards carefully preserved, and is worn again only as a shroud. Certain men standing in the stream saw that each one went at least three times over the head.

Leaving the labyrinth, we emerged on a wide sterile plain, over which grew only a few stunted desert bushes. Here and there we could see the shimmer of the sunlight on a thin crust of salt. The Greek convent, standing in the midst of the waste, served as a landmark, and thither we directed our course, leaving the winding road. This cross-country riding in these parts has its dangers. The horses are apt to sink through the soft surface, into holes burrowed by the rodents; and deep ruts, worn by winter torrents, are often difficult to pass. At length we stood before the gate of the convent, and the hospitable monks regaled us with refreshing draughts of pure, cool well-water. It seemed only a short distance farther to the sea; but some of our company were growing fatigued, and, at our rate of riding, it would take almost till sunset to reach our camp by the "City of Palms"; so, reluctantly, we turned our horses' heads northward, comforting ourselves with the hope that in a more convenient season we should stand on the shores of the Dead Sea and plunge in its sullen waters.

Then the magnificent balsam gardens and the groves of stately palms lent added beauty to a scene in the midst of which the luxury-loving Herod had his winter quarters. In the days of our Saviour the sycamore tree was not wanting, as we learn from the story of Zaccheus. The remains of old sugar-mills testify to the ancient culture of the sugar-cane; and the ruins of ancient aqueducts, dating from high antiquity, which brought the contributions of distant springs to the grounds around the city, show with what care the paradise of Jericho was watered. The balsam has now utterly disappeared; and the stranger, coming unprepared upon the scene, might well-exclaim, "How could Jericho ever be called 'the city of palm trees'?" But great fruitful vines may yet be seen, in the badly-kept gardens, yielding with prodigality in spite of indifferent husbandry; and heavily-laden bananas, bending over the hedges, offer of their sweetness to the hand of the passer-by. The modern village boasts a hotel, a Greek hospice for the accommodation of Russian pilgrims, and the ruins of an old castle, which frown out upon the wilderness to eastward. Those who are willing to be pleasantly deceived by monkish tradition may also have the house of Zaccheus pointed out to them. There are some three hundred inhabitants in the village, creatures of a miserable physique, and with a most undesirable reputation for laziness and thievishness.

That the plains of Jericho might be once again what they were of old--a very garden of delights, wherein is enough and to spare for all--needs hardly to be said. Were proof required, it would be found in the surroundings of Elisha's fountain. Wherever the waters of the fountain come, the desert sands are transformed into fruitful fields, and all its banks are clothed with emerald. No small supply of water would serve to waken life over all the plains; but is not the vast volume of the Jordan only waiting to be caught in the higher reaches, and taught to run in fertilising streams all over the broad lands? For long generations it has flowed idly past, only a few yards on either side of the rushing flood tasting its refreshing power. What untold wealth is rolling there, in these rich brown waves! What hand shall arrest the flow, and turn its powers to noblest uses, so that all the valley may be filled with the music of rustling grain and with the beauty of ripening fruit?--that the wilderness may rejoice and blossom as the rose. Ere this is possible, the reins of government must be held by stronger and more righteous hands, the husbandman must be secured in the enjoyment of the fruit of his toil. But surely now the appointed season for favour cannot be long delayed. Happy the eyes that shall behold the awaking of all the land to fresh life after its death-like slumber! In those sweet days of reviving, no fairer scenes will greet the eye than these broad stretches, proudly in the midst of which will rise once more the beautiful palm-girt city.

Now, as we ascend the winding path along the steep mountain sides, we pause for one last look over the plain and the sea and the dark heights beyond, whence came Israel's hosts of old to possess the land. There, beneath us, where the plain is lost in green, stood the ancient Jericho, where the worshippers from the east of Jordan were wont to assemble ere going up in company to the great feasts. Doubtless these very hills have echoed to the voice of psalms, as the pilgrims marched up the steep ascents. So was it our privilege to turn our faces towards Zion, planting our feet in their footsteps--the footsteps of the tribes of God who went up thither. Very heartily could we wake the echoes again with their old song, "Pray for the peace of Jerusalem," as we pressed upward to realise a long-cherished dream in the vision of the Holy City.

Thus may we all press up the steeps of life, Zion's love in our hearts, her songs upon our lips, until with joy the pilgrims' eyes behold, amid the light and splendour of the Eternal City, the face of the great King!

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