The rock of Masada measures 350 yards east and west, by 690 yards north and south, and its cliffs are 1500 feet in height above the plain on the east. Two paths lead up to the plateau on the top, that on the east being a winding ascent, now almost impassable, but by which Captain Warren went up; this is apparently the path called the “Serpent” by Josephus. The second path, on the west, ascends from a narrow sloping bank of white marl, which is about 1000 feet high, and which Josephus calls the “White Promontory;” upon this rises the great ramp, about 300 feet high, which the Romans piled up against the rock during the siege, a work so laborious that it seems almost incredible that human efforts could have accomplished it, in so short a time. At the top of the ramp is the masonry wall which the besiegers built as a foundation for their engines, before discovering the great tragedy that had been enacted within the fortress, where the garrison had fallen by one another’s swords (B. J. vii. 8, 4).

A fatiguing climb brought us to the plateau at the top. Here is a pointed archway, indicative of Crusading masons, and scored with the tribe-marks of the Jâhalin, and Rushâideh Arabs, which were on a former occasion mistaken by a distinguished Frenchman for planetary signs.

We fell to work at once with tape and compass to plan and describe the ruins. The buildings are principally on the north-west part of the rock, and they are of various dates. The most ancient appear to be the long rude walls, resembling the buildings at Herodium (Jebel Fureidis), but the majority of the masonry is to be ascribed to the Christians of the fifth or twelfth centuries. There is a chapel on the plateau, and also a cave, in which I found a curious inscription with crosses, which is, apparently, a new discovery. It is painted in red, and resembles some of the twelfth and thirteenth century inscriptions near Jericho.

The most extraordinary feature of this wonderful place has yet to be noticed. The Romans in their attack on Masada followed the same method which had reduced Jerusalem. They surrounded the unhappy Jews with a wall of circumvallation. Looking down from the summit, the ruins of this wall—a drystone parapet, running across the plain and up the southern hill-slopes—could be distinctly traced.

Two large camps, also walled with stone, lay spread out behind this line on the west and east, and six smaller ones, like redoubts, on the low ground; the entire length of the wall was not less than 3000 yards, as measured on our plan, and the whole remains almost as it was left eighteen centuries ago, when the victorious army marched away to Italy, leaving behind, in this waterless wilderness, proofs of the genius of the great nation of engineers, which found no task beyond its power, and which, even here, eleven miles away from the nearest considerable spring, and twenty miles from any source of provisions, was capable of crushing the desperate resistance of a nation which had so long defied the monarchs of Asia and Egypt.

At Cæsarea we had occasion to reflect on Josephus’s exaggerated statements, but at Masada we cannot but admire the exactitude of his description. The wall of the citadel he makes to be seven furlongs in length, the actual measurement being 4880 feet. The length of thirty furlongs, which he states as that of the “Serpent” ascent, would give a gradient about equal to that of the great descent at Engedi. The remains of a building 200 feet square still lie close to the western ascent, where Josephus places Herod’s palace. On the “White Promontory” Silva erected his mound, 200 cubits high, and on the top of the mound he built a stone wall, fifty cubits high, making a total of some 350 feet, which seems a very correct estimate of the height of the existing ramp and wall at the western ascent. Finally, Silva’s camp was pitched in a convenient place, where the hills approached nearest to the rock of the fortress, and just at this point, opposite, the western ascent, the ruins of the largest Roman camp still stand.

The silent record of the great struggle is the circle of stone which, guarded by Roman soldiers, shut out from the Sicarii all hope of escape; but though we know the history of the siege, no tradition exists of it among the Arabs. I pointed out the wall and camp to our guides, and received the usual reply: “They are ruined vineyards of the Christians.”

For five hours we worked hard on the summit of the hill, and it was no easy task to drag the measuring line against the furious wind, which now began to rage, and over the fallen blocks of Herod’s palace. I was disappointed in my attempt to reach the towers which lie half-way down the cliff on the north. The rope-ladders were too short, and there was nothing to which we could fix them, while the fury of the wind would have rendered the descent over the crag most hazardous.

We rode back to Bîr esh Sherky much fatigued, but the great wind kept us awake all night, and rain again fell heavily on our unprotected beasts.

On Saturday the 6th of March, we moved on six and a half miles, to the main encampment of the Jâhalîn in Wâdy Seiyâl. The wind was so strong, that in crossing the great ridges we were scarcely able to sit on our horses. We saw a large body of cavalry at one of the Arab encampments, sent by the Government to settle the recent quarrel with the Dhullâm. In the afternoon I looked down from a high ridge upon the main camp of Abu Dahûk, and sent our scribe to announce my arrival. I then rode up to the principal tent, and was invited to enter, but I noticed that the Arabs were extremely surly, owing no doubt to recent defeats.

“You have brought the Tâ’amireh here,” said Abu Dahûk, a most villainous-looking young chief, half negro in features. “Is this their land?” I asked. “No, by the life of Allah,” he said fiercely; “all the land to Engedi is ours.”

I told him that I had lived three years in the Arab country, and knew their customs. “Tâ’amireh in Tâ’amireh country, Jâhâlîn in Jâhâlîn land” were, I said, my guides and friends. This speech was received with much satisfaction, and coffee was handed round. The tribe, however, impressed me very unfavourably, as dirty, and ill-mannered, in comparison with others.

In about an hour the rest of the party arrived, and the camp was set up, but the great wind still blew fiercely, and the rain began at night.

We passed a wretched Sunday in the wind and rain, the poor horses suffering from the cold, and standing over their fetlocks in mud. I was pestered with visits from the Arabs, who sat and blew down their empty pipes as a hint to me to fill them. At length Abu Dahûk asked point-blank for a pipeful, but I told him I could not fill a “finjan” (coffee-cup), in allusion to the enormous size of the pipe-bowls of the whole tribe.

In the afternoon I turned out the party in order to exercise the horses by riding them bareback. The Arabs admired this exhibition extremely, and brought out their guns and fired them off to give greater effect to the Fantazîa.

Monday came, and still the high wind blew and the cold drizzle descended. Our stores had quite run out, and there was neither barley for the horses, nor food for the men; so I ordered a march to Hebron, sixteen miles distant, the Survey work being finished, excepting a piece which could be done on the way.

Poor old Hamzeh, curled up on a little pony, looked the picture of misery, though he still strove to be useful as a guide. The beasts groaned and the dogs whined; a mule fell, and was with difficulty reloaded; the wind blew the loads over to one side, and the beasts at times refused to face it. By 8 p.m. the whole party was, however, safely lodged in a Jew’s house in Hebron.

Such was the conclusion of the Survey of the desert; in ten days of very hard work a party of three Englishmen had filled in 330 square miles, including visits to the various ruins in the district, and half a day spent at Masada. We had just finished the work when the great storm broke, and could now rest in a dry house with our beasts in a warm stable, and enjoy the reflection that this difficult piece of the Survey was happily accomplished.

GATH.
GATH.

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE SHEPHELAH AND PHILISTIA.

Dr. Robinson was the first to show, by means of the distances to surrounding places, that Beit Jibrîn is the ancient Eleutheropolis; but this name has disappeared, as is usually the case with foreign names for places in Palestine. The present name, Jibrîn, was thought by the Crusaders to have some connection with the angel Gabriel, and they seem to have erected a church to St. Gabriel, of which only the north aisle remains, though the site is still remembered by the peasants, who there venerate a piece of open ground, which probably marks the old nave, and is now dedicated to Neby Jibrîn, “the Prophet Gabriel.” Here again we find the Moslems unconsciously worshipping at a Christian shrine.

The Gibilin of the Crusaders is the Beto Gabra of the fourth century, and the name can be traced yet farther back. The Talmudic scholars understood “the dew of heaven from above” (Gen. xxvii. 39) to have some mysterious reference to Beth Gubrin, in Idumæa, and to its fertile neighbourhood; thus the present name is carried back to Jewish times, and there is no reason to suppose that the place ever had any other Hebrew name.

Beit Jibrîn is famous for its great caverns, hollowed out in the white soft rock on every side of the village. They have generally names of little importance, but one is called “Cavern of the Fenish” (or Philistines), and the ground near it is “the Garden of the Fenish.” It is, perhaps, from these great caves, numbering eleven in all, that the place came to be considered as a former habitation of the Horites, or “cave-dwellers.” Jerome states that Eleutheropolis, or “the City of Freemen,” was once inhabited by the Horites, which he renders “freemen.” This idea is derived, as are many of Jerome’s more fantastic criticisms, straight from the Jews, for the same connection between these two names is to be found in the Talmud.

The question of the date of the great caverns is difficult. One of them has been enlarged, so as to cut into an old Jewish tomb, and it must therefore be comparatively recent. In another there are niches for funeral urns, which date back no doubt to Roman times. Others have inscriptions in Cufic on the walls, containing in one instance the name of Saladin. In one we discovered rudely-carved figures, perhaps intended to symbolise the Crucifixion, and there are many Latin crosses, and apses pointing east. One long tunnel with sculptured walls is called “the Horse’s Cavern,” but it seems to have been a chapel, fifty feet long and eighteen wide. Altogether there is not any evidence that the caverns, as they now exist, are older than the twelfth century, when the town was fortified, and there are indications that, if not originally excavated, they were at least enlarged in times subsequent to the Jewish epoch. There are, however, near Beit Jibrîn, ancient tombs (one having thirty-four Kokim), and also cisterns and wine-presses, showing the village to be a Jewish site, and a great vault containing 1774 niches for urns; there are also domed caverns with flights of rock-cut steps, which seem to have been used for storing water. The site is extensive, and several days were occupied in its exploration; but it is not a naturally strong position, and we should not therefore expect it to represent any one of the great Palestine strongholds.

COLUMBARIA NEAR BEIT JIBRÎN.
COLUMBARIA NEAR BEIT JIBRÎN.

On the 13th of March we rode to the white cliff called Tell es Sâfi, the site of the Crusading fortress of Blanche Garde, which was built in 1144 A.D., as an outpost for defence against the people of Ascalon. Of the fortress nothing remains beyond the rock scarps, which are only dimly traceable; but the position is one of immense natural strength, guarding the mouth of the Valley of Elah, and the situation is that in which Jerome describes the Philistine Gath. Identification is impossible without the recovery of the ancient name, but there is, I think, no place which has stronger claims than this site to be identified with Gath. It is now a mud village with olives beneath it; the cliff on which it is built is 300 feet high, and is burrowed with caves on the north; on the south a narrow saddle joins it to the ridge, but on every other side the “Shining Hill,” as it is well called, is impregnable, and when protected by fortifications on the weaker side, it must have been a most important post.

Beit Jibrîn had suffered severely from the fever of the last autumn. It was said that 500 people out of 1000 had died in the neighbourhood. The “cursed water” had appeared, by which title was intended a series of stagnant pools in the valley, which if not dry by autumn always foreboded fever in the village. I asked why the villagers did not drain them; the Sheikh replied, “It is from Allah.” Such is the fatalistic indolence of the peasantry, which prevents any chance of progress or of civilisation so long as the hopelessness of the creed of Islam bars the way.

From Beit Jibrîn we visited a site which is of primary interest, as representing apparently the Cave of Adullam.

This famous hold, where David collected “every one that was in distress and every one that was in debt, and every one that was discontented,” was, according to Josephus, at the city called Adullam (Ant. vi. 12, 3). This city was one of the group of fifteen (Josh. xv. 35) situate in the Shephelah or “lowlands.” The towns next on the list, including Jarmuth (El Yermûk), Socoh (Shuweikeh), and others, lie north-east of Beit Jibrîn, and are close together. The term Shephelah is used in the Talmud to mean the low hills of soft limestone, which, as already explained, form a distinct district between the plain and the watershed mountains. The name Sifla, or Shephelah, still exists in four or five places within the region round Beit Jibrîn, and we can therefore have no doubt as to the position of that district, in which Adullam is to be sought.

M. Clermont Ganneau was the fortunate explorer who first recovered the name, and I was delighted to find that Corporal Brophy had also collected it from half a dozen different people, without knowing that there was any special importance attaching to it. The title being thus recovered, without any leading question having been asked, I set out to examine the site, the position of which agrees almost exactly with the distance given by Jerome, between Eleutheropolis and Adullam—ten Roman miles.

The Great Valley of Elah (Wâdy es Sunt) is the highway from Philistia to Hebron; it has its head not far from Terkûmieh, and runs down northwards, past Keilah and Hareth, dividing the low hills of the Shephelah from the rocky mountains of Judah; eight miles from the valley-head stands Shochoh, and Wâdy es Sunt is here a quarter of a mile across; just north of this ruin it turns round westward, and so runs, growing deeper and deeper, between the rocky hills covered with brushwood, becoming an open vale of rich corn-land, flanked by ancient fortresses, and finally debouching at the cliff of Tell es Sâfi.

About two and a half miles south of the great angle near Shochoh, there is a very large and ancient terebinth, one of the few old trees of the species, along the course of the valley, which took its Hebrew name of Elah from them. This terebinth is towards the west side of the vale, just where a small tributary ravine joins Wâdy es Sunt; and near it are two ancient wells, not unlike those at Beersheba, with stone water-troughs round them; south of the ravine is a high rounded hill, almost isolated by valleys, and covered with ruins, a natural fortress, not unlike the well-known Tells which occur lower down the Valley of Elah.

This site seems to be ancient, not only because of the wells, but judging from the caves, the tombs, and the rock quarryings which exist near it. The hill is crowned with a little white-domed building, dedicated to “the notable chief” (Sheikh Madhkûr), who seems to have no other name. The ruins round it are named from the Sheikh.

But although to the site itself no name except Sheikh Madhkûr is applied, there are ruins below the hill and near the well, which are called ’Aid el Ma, or ’Aid el Miyeh, “Feast of the Water,” or “Feast of the Hundred.” Both pronunciations are recognised, and either is radically identical with the Hebrew Adullam. The ’Aid represents the Hebrew Ed, “monument,” and the Ma, “water,” reminds one of Jerome’s curious translation of the name Adullam—“Testimonium Aquæ, Monument of Water.”

But if this ruined fortress be, as there seems no good reason to doubt it is, the royal city of Adullam, where, we should naturally ask, is the famous cave? The answer is easy, for the cave is on the hill.

We must not look for one of the greater caverns, such as the Crusaders fixed upon in the romantic gorge east of Bethlehem, for such caverns are rarely inhabited in Palestine; and there is nothing in the Bible narrative to show that anyone except David himself lived in the cave. His four hundred men may have inhabited the “hold” or fortress on the top of the hill.

The site at Adullam is ruinous, but not deserted. The sides of the tributary valley are lined with rows of caves, and these we found inhabited, and full of flocks and herds; but still more interesting was the discovery of a separate cave, on the hill itself, a low, smoke-blackened burrow, which was the home of a single family. We could not but suppose, as we entered this gloomy abode, that our feet were standing on the very footprints of the Shepherd-King, who here, encamped between the Philistines and the Jews, covered the line of advance on the cornfields of Keilah, and was but three miles distant from the thickets of Hareth.

No doubt many travellers will visit the famous site thus recovered, but I saw nothing more to describe than the bare chalky hill, with its black cave, its white dome, and scattered blocks of masonry, the ancient round stone wells below, the magnificent old terebinth, and the cave stables in the opposite hillside.

The hill is about 500 feet high; it commands a fine view eastwards over the broad valley (up which the high-road to Hebron runs), its course dotted with terebinths and rich with corn; in the distance are high rocky mountains, dark with brushwood, and steeply sloping, with a small village, here and there, perched on a great knoll, and gleaming white.

There is ample room to have accommodated David’s four hundred men in the caves, and they are, as we have seen, still inhabited. The meaning of the old name of the site is now quite lost, and there is a confused tradition of a feast of one hundred guests, by which it is generally explained.

It is interesting to observe that the scene of David’s victory over Goliath is distant only eight miles from the cave at ’Aid el Ma. It was in the Valley of Elah, between Shochoh and Azekah, that the Philistines encamped in “Ephes Dammim,” or “the Boundary of Blood.” Saul, coming down by the highway from the Land of Benjamin, encamped by the valley (1 Sam. xvii. 2) on one of the low hills; and between the two hosts was the Gai or “ravine.” Even of the name Ephes Dammim we have perhaps a trace in the modern Beit Fased, or “House of Bleeding,” near Shochoh.

Two points required to be made clear as to the episode of David’s battle with Goliath; one was the meaning of the expression Gai or “ravine;” the other was the source whence David took the “smooth stones.” A visit to the spot explains both. In the middle of the broad open valley we found a deep trench with vertical sides, impassable except at certain places—a valley in a valley, and a natural barrier between the two hosts; the sides and bed of this trench are strewn with rounded and water-worn pebbles, which would have been well fitted for David’s sling.

Here, then, we may picture to ourselves the two hosts, covering the low rocky hills opposite to each other, and half hidden among the lentisk bushes; between them was the rich expanse of ripening barley and the red banks of the torrent with its white shingly bed; behind all were the distant blue hill-walls of Judah, whence Saul had just come down. The mail-clad champion advanced from the west, through the low corn, with his mighty lance perhaps tufted with feathers, his brazen helmet shining in the sun; from the east, a ruddy boy, in his white shirt and sandals, armed with a goat’s-hair sling, came down to the brook, and, according to the poetic fancy of the Rabbis, the pebbles were given voices, and cried: “By us shall thou overcome the giant.”

The champion fell from an unseen cause, and the wild Philistines fled to the mouth of the valley, where Gath stood towering on its white chalk cliff, a frontier fortress, the key to the high-road leading to the corn-lands of Judah, and to the vineyards of Hebron.

The Survey work round Beit Jibrîn was unusually heavy, for, on an average, three or four ruined sites were found to every two square miles, and the number of names was very large. The storms also interrupted us, and thus it was only on the 1st of April, or three weeks from the date of our arrival in the district, that we could move on.

The spring flowers, including the delicate cyclamens, were now in full bloom, the hoopoes and storks had arrived, and Palestine was at its best. The work had extended over 180 square miles in the three weeks, and 424 names, only 50 of which were previously known, had been collected, including more than 200 ruins.

There was always some difficulty in ascertaining names; suspicion, ignorance and fanatical feeling were against us, but we here found a new difficulty, for the peasantry were convinced that the Franks knew the old names better than they did themselves. One guide, pointing out the ruin of Horân, said that the real name was Korân. I asked why, and he answered that a European had told him. Thus, also, at Kefr Saba we were told that the Frank name was Antifatrûs; and at Adullam one man refused to tell me the name of the place, saying that the Franks knew it best.

I protest against the immorality of corrupting the native traditions, by relating to the peasantry the theories of modern writers as authentic facts, for it destroys the last undoubted source of information as to ancient topography. The confusion caused by Crusading and early Christian traditions which have been engrafted in a precisely similar manner, forms already a most serious difficulty; and if in addition we are to have modern foreign theories disseminated among the peasantry, identification will be impossible. Throughout the course of the Survey, we never allowed the peasantry to suppose that we attached more value to one name which they gave, than to another, and we never asked leading questions or gave them any information as to ancient sites.

Our next camp was at the village of Mejdel, near the shore, just north of Ascalon, separated from Beit Jibrîn by nineteen miles of corn-land and sandy downs. The plain was dotted with brown mud villages, and was coloured with patches of purple lupines. We passed on our march through Keratîya, in which we probably recognise the name of the Philistine Cherethites, and where is a Crusading tower now known as Kŭl’at el Fenish, “Castle of the Philistines,” thence crossing over the sand-ridge we looked down on green hedgeless fields, brown ploughland, and beautiful olive-groves, and on the village of Mejdel, with its conspicuous minaret and tall palm-grove.

This place is the principal town between Gaza and Jaffa: it boasts of a bazaar and has a weekly market. The inhabitants are rich and well-disposed. There are sandy lanes, hedged with the prickly pear, round the town, and on the west a large cemetery near the sand-dunes. To the north, under a row of aged olive trees, we found a most pleasant camping ground.

From this camp we made the large-scale survey of Ascalon, and cleared up the curious question as to the two Episcopal towns of that name which existed in the fifth century, the one being apparently Ascalon by the sea, the second a ruined site called ’Askelôn in the hills near Beit Jibrîn.

Ascalon, “the bride of Syria,” is now entirely ruinous, and only the fragments of its great walls, built by the English, under Richard Lion-Heart, in 1191 A.D., remain half buried by the great dunes of rolling sand, which are ever being blown up by the sea breeze from the south-west. The whole interior of the site is covered with rich soil, to a depth of about ten feet, and the natives find fragments of fine masonry, shafts, capitals, and other remains of the old city, by digging in this.

The walls inclose a half circle, or bow, as described by William of Tyre, the string being towards the sea, where are cliffs about fifty feet high, above the beach. The town measures one mile and three-quarters round, and three-eighths of a mile from east to west. The foundations of the five great towers, noticed by the chronicler of King Richard’s expedition, are all discernible, with the land-gate, the sea-gate, the church, and some other ruins. The whole place is now full of gardens, containing palms, olives, apples, lemons, almonds, pomegranates, and tamarisks, irrigated by no less than forty wells of sweet water.

The walls are of small masonry, which is much less solid than the work of the Christian kings of Jerusalem; but the mortar is so hard that, in places, the stone has given way and cracked, while the mortar joints remain unbroken. A huge tower-foundation lies tilted up on one side, like a great cheese, close to the land-gate; it is twenty feet in diameter, and six feet thick.

The fruits here ripen a month earlier than in other parts of Palestine; and were it not that now, as in King Richard’s time, Ascalon has no port, it would no doubt be a place of importance.

Of Herod’s beautiful colonnades, nothing now remains. The Crusaders had little respect for antiquities, and the innumerable granite pillar-shafts, which are built horizontally into the walls, are no doubt those originally brought to the town by Herod.

The Jews held Ascalon to be no part of “the Land.” Even as late as the twelfth century, three hundred Samaritans lived there. The famous Temple of Derceto, in the town, is noticed in the Mishna, as well as the idol Serapia, which was here worshipped. A place called Yagur is also noticed in the Talmud as on the boundary of “the Land,” apparently outside the walls of Ascalon; this, no doubt, is represented by the modern village of El Jûrah, on the north-east, beyond the fosse, among gardens and lanes which are half covered with sand.

It is indeed quite mournful to see how the dry blown sand, advancing, it is said, a yard every year, has climbed over the southern walls of the town, and has already quite destroyed the fruitful gardens on that side.

We heard a curious tradition at Ascalon. A tomb had been opened by the peasantry, near the ruins, some thirty years ago. Under a great slab, in the eastern cemetery, they found a perfectly preserved body, apparently embalmed, lying in its robes, with a sword by its side, and a ring on its finger. The dead eyes glared so fiercely on the intruders, that they let fall the slab, and as one of the party soon after died, they came to the conclusion that it was a Neby or “Prophet” whom they had disturbed, and the place has thus become surrounded with a mysterious sanctity.

Seven and a half miles north of Mejdel is the site of the famous city of Ashdod, now only a mud village of moderate size, on the eastern slope of a knoll which is covered with loose sandy soil and hedged in with prickly pear. On this knoll the old city no doubt stood, and though its elevation is not great, it commands the surrounding land, which accounts for the siege of twenty-nine years by Psammetichus, that Ashdod underwent. On the south is a small white mosque, a water-wheel, and the fine Khân which has fallen into ruins within the last thirty years. There is a great mud-pond on the east, with palms near it, and to the south a marsh, fig gardens and numerous sycamore trees. The corn-lands are wide and fertile, but the place has no antiquities beyond a few bad coins and gems.

The ever-rolling sand-dunes have here encroached no less than three miles, and are lapping against the village. Riding due west from Ashdod we reached the shore, at a point which seems to have been rarely visited by former travellers. There are here extensive ruins of a town, stretching along the shore, and a square fort with round corner towers, probably of Crusading date. This is no doubt the ancient port of Ashdod, mentioned in the fifth century, and the place is still used as a landing by small boats.

The name which is given to this harbour as well as to the ports of Abu Zabûra, Yebna, and Ghŭzzeh, is very interesting; they are each known as El Mîneh, but the word is not Arabic. The Talmud speaks of the harbour of Caesarea as Limineh, and here we have the solution of the puzzle. The Jews were not a race of sailors; the only notices of the sea in the Bible, show the awe with which they regarded its rolling waves. They had no harbours along the coast, and apparently no word in their language for a port; thus they adopted a foreign epithet, and naturalised the Greek Limen, now further corrupted into the modern El Mîneh.

One other great city occupied our attention from the Mejdel camp, namely Lachish, a place which seems to have been still known in the fourth century. We visited Umm Lags, the site proposed by Dr. Robinson, and could not but conclude that no ancient or important city ever stood there, nor has the name any radical similarity to that of Lachish. Much nearer indeed would be the title El Hesy, applying to a large ancient site with springs, near the foot of the hills, about in the proper position for Lachish. The modern name means “a water-pit,” and, if it is a corruption of Lachish, it would afford a second instance of a change which is well known to have taken place in the case of Michmash—the K being changed to guttural H. The distance from Beit Jibrin to Tell el Hesy, is not much greater than that given by the Onomasticon for Lachish, while the proximity of Eglon (’Ajlân), and the position south of Beit Jibrin, on a principal road, near the hills, and by one of the only springs in the plain, all seem to be points strongly confirming this view.

On the 15th of April we marched fourteen miles south to Gaza, over rolling corn-lands with patches of red sandy cliff, and by brown mud villages, with white domes, and large ponds in which the little red oxen were standing knee-deep. Riding up a low ridge, we came upon a great avenue of very ancient olives, which stretches south for four miles to the houses of Gaza.

This ancient city, the capital of Philistia, is very picturesquely situated, having a fine approach down the broad avenue from the north, and rising on an isolated hill a hundred feet above the plain. On the higher part of the hill are the Governor’s house, the principal mosque (an early Crusading church), and the bazaars. The green mounds traceable round this hillock are probably remains of the ancient walls of the city.

Gaza bristles with minarets, and has not less than twenty wells. The population is now eighteen thousand, including sixty or seventy houses of Greek Christians.

The Samaritans in the seventh century seem to have been numerous in Philistia, near Jaffa, Ascalon, and Gaza. Even as late as the commencement of the present century, they had a synagogue in this latter city, but are now no longer found there.

There are two large suburbs of mud cabins on lower ground, to the east and north-east, making four quarters to the town in all. East of the Serai is the reputed tomb of Samson, whom the Moslems call ’Aly Merwân or “Aly the enslaved.” On the north-west is the mosque of Hâshem, the father of the Prophet. The new mosque, built some forty years since, is full of marble fragments, from ancient buildings which were principally found near the sea-shore.

The town is not walled, and presents the appearance of a village grown to unusual size; the brown cabins rise on the hillside row above row, and the white domes and minarets, with numerous palms, give the place a truly Oriental appearance. The bazaars are large and are considered good.

Riding round the town to the east, I found the Moslem inhabitants celebrating a festival, in tents pitched in the cemeteries, where black-robed women, wearing the Egyptian veil, sat in circles, singing and clapping their hands to keep time. On the south-east of the city is a very conspicuous isolated hill called El Muntâr, “the watch-tower;” and on it another place sacred to ’Aly, a little white building, with three domes, surrounded with graves. This is traditionally the hill to which Samson carried the gates of Gaza, and a yearly festival of the Moslems is held here.

An interesting discovery was made in 1879 at Tell el’Ajjûl south of Gaza. A statue, fifteen feet high, was found buried in the sand, representing an old man with a beard. There can be little doubt that it is the statue of Marnas, the Jupiter of Gaza, whose temple was still standing near the city in the fifth century of our era.

On the 16th of April I rode out to a point north-east of Gaza, accompanied by Corporal Brophy and by a native soldier from the town. The Teiâha Arabs were at war with the ’Azâzimeh, who had called in the Terabîn to assist them, and battles were being fought within a few miles of the city, quite unnoticed by the Turkish Governor.

We were riding across a heavy ploughed field, when I heard cries of “There they are!” and looking back I saw the main road occupied by a band of about twenty horsemen, half hidden by a swell of the ground. They were all well mounted, and armed with swords, guns, and pistols, and with great lances of cane with long iron heads and tufts of ostrich feathers. As I looked six spearmen started out and spurred full speed at our Bashi-Bazouk, who was some two hundred yards behind us. They came down like a whirlwind, shaking their lances horizontally, and kicking up a great cloud of dust. It was an awkward moment, for we were out-numbered, and flight or resistance would have been equally vain. I resolved to face it out, and turning back we also galloped up towards the six champions, who drew up round our soldier, and dug their spear-butts into the ground, then suddenly wheeled round and cantered back to the main body, which, to my great relief, filed slowly away eastwards. It appeared that they had mistaken us for Terabîn Arabs, but, finding that we were English, and protected by the Gaza government, they had been afraid to interfere with us.

This little adventure gave us a good idea of the tactics of the Bedawîn in warfare. The military advantage of superior numbers is thoroughly recognised by these wary and pretentious warriors.

From Gaza we also visited Deir el Belah, the Crusading Darum fortified by King Amalrich in 1170 A.D.—a village with remains of a Greek Church of St. George and numerous date-palms, whence its present name “Convent of Dates” is derived. From Darum we also went to Umm el Jerrâr, the site identified by Vandevelde with the Gerar of Abraham and Isaac. A large Tell exists here, but no ancient wells like those of Beersheba, and I was thus led to the conclusion that Abraham’s wells, which the Philistines filled up, and which Isaac is said to have dug again, were probably similar to the pits which the Arabs still dig near this site, to reach the water flowing beneath the surface in the shingly bed of the great trench which runs through the flat alluvial plain of Gerar.

News of a serious fight near Beersheba, in which 700 Arabs were killed and wounded, determined us to set our faces northwards, leaving the district north-west of Beersheba to be finished during the autumn of 1877. On the last day of April we left our Gaza camp, and marched back to Mejdel, and thence, on the following day, to Yebnah, the ancient Jamnia, famous as the seat of the Sanhedrim after the fall of Bether.

The great Valley of Sorek, which rises north of Jerusalem, and runs down by Zoreah (Sŭr’ah) and Beth Shemesh (’Ain Shemes), reaches the sea north of Yebnah. It is here called “Reuben’s River,” from the little enclosure sacred to the “Prophet Reuben,” which, from the middle ages, has been a Moslem shrine for pilgrimage. The harbour north-west of Yebnah is known also as Mînet Rubîn.

The district round Yebnah is full of sacred shrines. Neby Shît or Seth, Neby Yûnis or Jonah, and Neby Kunda, probably “the Chaldean,” with many minor saints, have domes within a few miles of one another. The mosque of Yebnah, with its little minaret, was a Christian church, which was partly rebuilt and altered in 673 A.H. There are three other sacred places near it, one being a mosque dedicated to Abu Harîreh, Companion of the Prophet.

The town of Yebnah stands on an isolated hillock, with olives to the north, and it is supplied by wells with water-wheels, or Sâkia, as at Ashdod. There is nothing of great antiquity at the place, and even the walls of the Crusading fortress of Ibelin, built at Yebnah in 1144 A.D., have disappeared. The Crusaders considered Yebnah (or Jamnia) to be the site of Gath; but, as usual, their views are not supported by the facts of earlier history.

Three miles east of Jamnia the Valley of Sorek passes through a defile, having a hill on either side; on each hill a village stands above the rich corn-land, and each village is an ancient site. The southern—now Katrah—is supposed to be Gederoth; the northern, El Mŭghâr (“the Cave”) is the site which Captain Warren proposes for Makkedah.

This latter is a remarkable place, and one of the most conspicuous sites in the plain. A promontory of brown sandy rock juts out southwards, and at the end is the village climbing up the hillside. The huts are of mud, and stand in many cases in front of caves; there are also small excavations on the north-east, and remains of an old Jewish tomb, with Kokim. From the caves the modern name is derived, and it is worthy of notice that this is the only village in the Philistine plain at which we found such caves. The proximity of Gederoth (Katrah) and Naamah (Na’aneh) to El Mŭghâr also increases the probability that Captain Warren’s identification of El Mŭghâr with Makkedah is correct, for those places were near Makkedah (Josh. xv. 41).

North-east of Makkedah, Ekron still stands, on low rising ground—a mud hamlet, with gardens fenced with prickly pears. There is nothing ancient here, any more than at Ashdod or Jamnia, but one point may be mentioned which is of some interest. Ekron means “barren,” yet the town stood in the rich Philistine plain. The reason is, that north of the Sorek Valley there is a long sandy swell reaching to the sea-coast—an uncultivated district, now called Deirân, the Arabic name being equivalent to its old title, Daroma; Ekron stands close to this dry, barren spur, and above the fertile corn-lands in the valley.

Our last Philistine camp was at the edge of the low hills, in a fig-garden, just south of Dhenebbeh. We reached it on the 8th of May, and left on the 15th, on which day we completed one thousand square miles, which had been surveyed in eleven weeks, since the 25th of February—the most rapid piece of work during the whole course of the Survey.

The village of Dhenebbeh lies south of Wâdy Sŭrâr, the old Valley of Sorek. The view up this valley, looking eastward, is picturesque. The broad vale, half a mile across, is full of corn, and in the middle runs the white shingly bed of the winter torrent. Low white hills flank it on either side, and the high rugged chain of the mountains of Judah forms a picturesque background. On the south, among the olives, is the ruin of Beth Shemesh, to which place the lowing kine dragged the rude cart through the barley-fields. On the north, a little white building with a dome is dedicated to Sheikh Samat, and stands close to Zoreah.

Such is a slight sketch of the Philistine campaign, the full details of which must be left to be enumerated in the memoir of the map, of which they form a large section. We must hasten on now to other questions of greater interest and importance.

THE SEA OF GALILEE.
THE SEA OF GALILEE.

CHAPTER XIX.

GALILEE.

One of the principal pieces of work to be done was the running of a line of levels from the Mediterranean to the Sea of Galilee, for which purpose the British Association had voted £100. The line which I chose, and which was approved, was the shortest possible, and Wâdy el Melek afforded us a most convenient line of ascent to the Buttauf Plain, whence we were to descend to Tiberias. Under my direction, nineteen miles were run in 1875, and in 1877 Lieutenant Kitchener finished the remaining seventeen miles on the low ground, which could not be entered in summer. By this means the level of the Sea of Galilee, variously computed at from 300 to 600 feet below the Mediterranean, has been fixed as 682·5 feet.

Our most valuable discoveries in this part of the country included the probable site of a synagogue at Tireh east of Shefa ’Amr, and the recovery of Osheh, a town known to have been close to Shefa ’Amr (or Shafram) and one of the places where the Sanhedrim sat for many years; it seems undoubtedly to be the present ruin of Hûsheh. We also found a very remarkable tomb at Shefa ’Amr, profusely covered with sculpture, and with a Greek inscription and crosses. Outside the door are sculptured lions, a grape-vine with birds in the branches, and other designs. It appears to be a Christian sepulchre, probably of the fourth or fifth century, but perhaps earlier. A Byzantine church also exists in the village.

On the last day of June we marched east to the miserable little hamlet of El B’aîneh, which, with two others, stands on the north slopes of Jebel Tôr’an, an isolated block of mountain rising out of the plateau of the Buttauf. Here we found the inhabitants all fever-stricken from the malarious exhalations of the great swamp, which even as late as July extended over half the plain. The place was evidently unhealthy, and we were tortured by the armies of large musquitoes rendering sleep impossible at night. The levelling operations required us to camp in the plain, but we hastened on the work as much as possible, looking forward to a retreat into the mountains of Upper Galilee, which, being 4000 feet above the sea, would be cool and pleasant, and, as we hoped, safe from the scourge of cholera, which had already devastated Damascus, and was creeping slowly south.

The view from the summit of Tôr’an is interesting and extensive. The Sea of Galilee is visible, and we were able to fix the direction of many points along its shore.

On the south, separated from Tôr’an by a second plain, lay the low bare range of the Nazareth hills, Neby S’ain, and Gath Hepher with the tomb of Jonah, being visible, while rather farther east Kefr Kenna stood among its olive-groves and gardens of pomegranates.

Tabor, crowned with two monasteries, was also plainly visible, east of the Nazareth range, the slopes partly hidden by oak-groves. Through a gap, between it and the western hills, the outline of Gilboa and part of Jebel ed Duhy could be seen. The plain of Esdraelon was hidden, but the cone of Sheikh Iskander was visible to the south-west.

To the west the view extended over the low wooded hills to the long range of Carmel, which was visible, from the Peak of Sacrifice to the white monastery where, on a little spit, stands the German wind-mill, which showed up quite black against the gleaming sea.

The brown and fertile plain of the Buttauf, in the basaltic soil of which tobacco, corn, maize, sesame, cotton, and every species of vegetable grow luxuriantly, lay at our feet. The high blunt top of Jebel Deidebeh (“mountain of the watch-tower”), crowned with its ring of thicket, rose behind, shutting out the view. Beyond this was the chain of hills running eastwards, with rolling grey up-lands dotted with olives, while farther still, some ten or twelve miles away, rose the mountain wall of Upper Galilee, culminating in Jebel Jermûk, a bare craggy ridge which closed the view to the north. Turning yet farther east, the large town of Safed shone white on the mountain-side, divided into two quarters, with a double-pointed summit behind them. Beyond all, dark and dreamlike, the great Hermon, “Sheikh of the mountains,” was seen streaked with silver lines of snow.

But the view due east of Tôr’an was yet more interesting. A yellow plateau shelves down from the foot of the mountains of Upper Galilee and runs into little tongues and promontories, separated by tiny bays, along the north-western shores of the Sea of Galilee: only in one part of this line is there a cliff, just where the little fertile plain of Gennesaret terminates at Khân Minieh; the rest is shelving ground almost to the water’s edge.

The deep chasm running down from Safed, and known as “the Valley of Doves” (W. el Hamâm), debouches into the green oasis of the Ghŭweir—the plain of Gennesaret. East of the sea the long flat plateau of Bashan stretches from the precipices which enclose the lake, and reaches away to the volcanic cones and dreary lava-fields which are backed by the peaks of Jebel ed Drûz.

Tiberias was hidden below the cliffs, and only about half the blue and limpid lake was seen behind them; most conspicuous on this line are the Horns of Hattin, so fatal to the Christian kingdom in 1187, and here also, as on the east, a broad plateau runs almost to the top of the precipices.

It is wonderful to reflect how numerous are the ancient towns which encircled this little lake; speaking of the west side alone, they number more than twenty. Hidden by the cliffs we have Tiberias, or Rakkath, and Hammath (El Hummâm), Taricheæ (Kerek), Sinnabris (Sennâbreh), and Magdala (Mejdel), with Kedîsh, the probable site of the Kadesh of Barak.

On the western plateau stand Adamah (Admah), Adami (Ed Damieh), Bitzaanaim (Bessûm), Lasharon (Sarôna), Shihon (Sh’aîn), and other sites of Biblical interest. Arbela, with the synagogue of Rabbi Nitai (200 B.C.), Hattîn (the ancient Zer), Yemma (the Talmudic Caphar Yama), Kefr Sabt, (Caphar Sobthi), Seiyâdeh (the Talmudic Ziadethah), Tell M’aûn (Beth Maon), Sha’arah (Beth Sharaim), and several other towns of later times swell the long list of cities. The district is full of sacred places: Rabbi Akiba, Rabbi Meir, and the great Maimonides, were buried near Tiberias, and the supposed tombs of Jethro and Habakkuk are still shown on the hills above.

One site alone is conspicuous by its absence—the tomb of Nahum, which was known to the Jews in the fourteenth century, but is apparently now lost for ever. This loss is a subject of real regret, for could we light upon the tomb of Nahum, we could perhaps settle for ever the position of Capernaum, “the village of Nahum.”

The various scholars and explorers who have written since Robinson are divided into two parties, one placing Capernaum at the ruins near Khân Minieh, the other selecting the large site at Tell Hûm. The places are only two and a half miles apart, but modern disputants are not content with such wide limits. There is a point which strikes one as curious in the controversy. In all the arguments usually brought forward, no reference is made to the information which can be deduced from Jewish sources dating later than Bible times. To this information I would call attention.

Identification, properly so called, is impossible when the old name is lost; but in the case of Capernaum traces of the name may perhaps be recovered still. It is generally granted that the Talmudic Caphar Nahum, or “Village of Nahum,” was probably identical with the New Testament Capernaum, and it is on this supposition that the only philological claim of Tell Hûm is based; but the loss implied of an important radical at the commencement of the name Hûm, if it be supposed to be a corruption of Nahum, is a change of which we have scarcely any instance; moreover, Hûm in Hebrew means “black,” and still retains its original signification in Arabic. Tell Hûm was so named, no doubt, from the black basalt which covers the site. If we are to seek for an ancient corresponding title, I would suggest Caphar Ahim, a town mentioned in the Talmud with Chorazin, and famous for its wheat, as being probably the ancient name of the ruined site at Tell Hûm. Even if this town were standing in the time of Christ, there seems no more reason why its name should be mentioned in the Gospels, than that Taricheæ or Sepphoris should be so noticed, or that Chorazin should be mentioned by Josephus when speaking of the same district.

An investigation of the name Minieh is more satisfactory. In Hebrew it is derived from a root meaning “lot,” or “chance.” In Aramaic it has an identical meaning, and the Talmud often mentions the Minai, or “Diviners,” under which title were included not only every kind of sorcerer and enchanter, but also the early Jewish converts to Christianity.

Now this word Minai is intimately connected with Capernaum. In the Talmud there is a curious passage (quoted in Buxtorf’s great Lexicon) where “sinners” are defined as “sons of Caphar Nahum:” and these Huta (or sinners) we find from another passage, were none other than the Minai.

It is evident that the Jews looked on Capernaum as the head-quarters of the Christians, whom they contemptuously styled “sorcerers;” and the importance thus attached by them to that town, as a Christian centre, is in accordance with the expression in the Gospel, where Capernaum is called Our Lord’s “own city” (Matt. ix. 1).

The Talmudic doctors speak, then, of Capernaum as the city of Minai, and as such it continued to be regarded by the Jews down to the fourteenth century. In 1334 A.D. Isaac Chelo travelled from Tiberias to Caphar Anan (Kefr ’Anân), presumably by the direct road passing near the “Round Fountain.” He was shown on his way the ruins of Caphar Nahum, and in them the tomb of Nahum, and he remarks incidentally as to the place, “here formerly dwelt the Minai.” It is evident that he cannot be supposed, without twisting the narrative, to refer to any place so far from his route as is Tell Hûm. The site at Minieh would have been within a mile and a half of his road, and the name is apparently connected with Capernaum by his valuable note about the Minai.

The same connection is traced in 1616 A.D., when Quaresmius speaks of Capernaum as shown at a place called Minieh, and thus we are able to trace back an apparently unbroken Jewish tradition connecting Capernaum with the “Village of the Minai,” and with the ruined site of Minieh.

In addition to the Jewish tradition connecting Minieh with Capernaum, there is a second indication which favours that identification. Josephus speaks of the fountain which watered the plain of Gennesaret, and which was called Capharnaum. It contained a fish named Coracinus, which was also found in the Nile. There are two springs to which this account has been supposed to apply, the one two and a half miles south of Minieh, the other scarcely three quarters of a mile east of the same site. The first irrigates a great part of the plain of Gennesaret; the Coracinus has been found in it, and the waters are clear and fresh; this is called ’Ain-el-Madowerah, “the round spring.” The second is called ’Ain Tâbghah, and Dr. Tristram points out that the water being warm, brackish, and muddy, is unfit for the Coracinus, which has never as yet been found in it.

’Ain Tâbghah is not in the plain of Gennesaret. It is a spring surrounded by an octagonal reservoir, which was built up to its present height by one of the sons of the famous Dhahr-el-’Amr in the last century, and the water is thus dammed up to about fifty-two feet above the lake. An aqueduct, of masonry apparently modern, leads from the level of the reservoir to the cliff at Minieh, where is a rock-cut channel three feet deep and broad, resembling more the great rock-cutting of the Roman road at Abila, than any of the rock-cut aqueducts of the country. The water was conducted through this channel to the neighbourhood of the Khân, or just to the edge of the plain of Gennesaret. It is important to notice that the spring can only have watered the neighbourhood of Minieh after the reservoir had been built, and that it was probably always unfitted for the presence of the Coracinus.

As ’Ain Tâbghah is not in the plain of Gennesaret, and as it does not irrigate that plain—the modern aqueduct being apparently constructed to supply some mills near Minieh—it seems impossible to identify this spring with that mentioned by Josephus as the abode of the Coracinus. And even if the Tâbghah spring were that of Capharnaum, the case for Tell Hûm is not thereby strengthened, the distance from the spring to that ruin (nearly two miles) being double that from the spring to Minieh—scarcely three quarters of a mile.

In favour of the Minieh site we have then Jewish tradition, and the existence of a spring fulfilling the description of Josephus; but it must not be denied that in favour of Tell Hûm we have a Christian tradition from the fourth century downwards.

Jerome places Capernaum two miles from Chorazin. If, as seems almost certain, by the latter place he means the ruin of Kerâzeh, the measurement is exactly that to Tell Hûm.

The account of Theodorus (532 A.D.) is more explicit, and seems indeed almost conclusive as to the site of his Capernaum. Two miles from Magdala he places the Seven Fountains, where the miracle of feeding the five thousand was traditionally held to have taken place; these, as will presently appear, were probably close to Minieh; and two miles from the fountains was Capernaum, whence it was six miles to Bethsaida, on the road to Banias. These measurements seem to point to Tell Hûm as the sixth-century Capernaum.

Antoninus Martyr (600 A.D.) speaks of the great basilica in Capernaum, which it is only natural to identify with the synagogue of Tell Hûm, which seems probably (by comparison with those at Meirûn) to be the work of Simeon Bar Jochai, the Cabbalist, who lived about 120 A.D.

Arculphus (700 A.D.) visited the fountain where the five thousand were fed, and from the hill near it he saw Capernaum at no great distance on a narrow tract between the lake and the northern hills. His account thus agrees with that of Theodorus, though in itself so indefinite, that it has been brought as evidence in favour of both the sites advocated for Capernaum.

Sæwulf (1103 A.D.) proceeded along the shore for six miles, going north-east from Tiberias, to the mountain where the five thousand were fed, then called Mensa, or “table,” which had a church of St. Peter at its feet. It is evident, from the measurements, that this hill was in the neighbourhood of Minieh, where Theodorus also seems to place the scene of the miracle, as above noticed.

John of Würtzburg (about 1100 A.D.) speaks of the mountain called Mensa, with a fountain a mile distant, and Capernaum two miles away.

Fetellus (1150 A.D.) is yet more explicit. Capernaum, he says, is at the head of the lake, two miles from the descent of the mountain, and apparently three from the fountain where the five thousand were fed, which fountain would probably be ’Ain-et-Tîn, a large source, west of Minieh, and not far from the hill which Sæwulf points out as being the Mensa.

The whole of this topography is summed up by Marino Sanuto, whose valuable chart of Palestine shows us the position of the various traditional sites of the fourteenth century. On this chart the Mensa is shown in a position which is unmistakable. The valleys which run down to the plain of Gennesaret are drawn with some fidelity, and the Mensa is placed north of them; at the border of the lake, Bethsaida is shown, about in the position of Minieh, and Capernaum near that of Tell Hûm; in the letter-press the account is equally clear, Capernaum being placed near the north-east corner of the lake, and Bethsaida just where the lake begins to curve round southward.

Christian tradition points, then, to Tell Hûm as being Capernaum, but Jewish hatred has preserved the Jewish site under the opprobrious epithet of Minieh; the question is simply whether—setting aside the important testimony of Josephus—Jewish or Christian tradition is to be accepted. A single instance will be sufficient to show the comparative value of the two. Jerome speaks of Ajalon, for example, as three miles north-east of Bethel, just where the ruin of ’Alya now stands; he very honestly adds, however, that the Jews pointed out another site at a village called Alus, which, from his description, may be proved to be the modern Yalo. Recent discovery has shown that Jerome was wrong and the Jews right; and yet, further, Jerome’s site cannot possibly be reconciled with the position in which he himself correctly places Beth Horon. This is but one instance out of many in which Jerome blunders when differing from the Jews, and no impartial reader can study the Onomasticon with Jerome’s translation, without seeing that in the fourth century the topography of Palestine was only imperfectly understood.

It may be safely said that Christian tradition, though affording often valuable indications, cannot be taken as authoritative, for the chances are equal that it is correct or the reverse. When, as in the case of the Temple, of the Place of Stoning, of Joseph’s Tomb, and of Jacob’s Well, it agrees with Jewish tradition, the sites thus preserved invariably appear to be authentic, and fulfil the required indications found in the Bible; but when these two traditions are discordant, the Christian ceases to be of much value, for it is evident that the traditions of the Jews, handed down unbroken by an indigenous population which was never driven from the country, must take precedence of the foreign ecclesiastical traditions of comparatively later times, which can so often be proved self-inconsistent, or founded on a fallacy.

It is a wonderful reflection that to Jewish hatred we perhaps owe our only means of fixing one of the most interesting sites in Palestine, and that through the opprobrious epithet of Minai or “Sorcerers,” the position of Christ’s own city is handed down to the Christians of the nineteenth century.

On Saturday, 10th July, 1875, the Survey party marched to Safed, where they were endangered by a fanatical attack by the Moorish settlers of the town. The Survey was suspended in consequence; and the spread of cholera necessitated the withdrawal of the party from Palestine. The chief offenders were however imprisoned at Acre, and a sum of £270 was paid as a fine to the Committee of the Palestine Exploration Fund.

A DERWISH.
A DERWISH.

CHAPTER XX.

THE ORIGIN OF THE FELLAHÎN.

IN order to obtain some knowledge of the native peasantry of Palestine, it is necessary to examine their character, language, and religion, which are the three fundamental questions regarding any nation. We may thus be able to conjecture their origin, and to account for their peculiarities. To these three subjects the present chapter is devoted.

The character of the peasantry is a curious mixture of virtues and vices, exaggerated by the entire absence of education. Among their finer qualities may be noticed their great patience and power of endurance, their sobriety, their good-nature, and kindness to animals, their strong sense of religion, and of submission to the Divine Will, their personal courage, which is often remarkable, and their great natural intelligence and quickness of perception, with their power of adapting themselves to novel situations; their docility under recognised leaders is not less remarkable, as are also the natural dignity, courtesy, and modesty of their behaviour in those parts of the country where they are unspoilt by the influence of the worst class of tourists.

Their vices, on the other hand, are often most repulsive, and their uncleanness and brutal immorality are well known, though not subjects for discussion. Their love of money is evidenced by their ordinary conversation; for a passing group, when casually overheard, is almost invariably talking of piastres. Insolence of demeanour to strangers whom they suppose to be unable to assist themselves, is also common; but this is due perhaps in part to oppression and religious hatred, though also, in great measure, to that exclusiveness of feeling which restricts all ideas of benevolence to the small circle of the community or family. The worst vice of all is their universal untruthfulness; and the shamelessness of the peasantry in this respect is evidenced by their proverb, “A lie is the salt of a man.” A successful liar is spoken of as shâter ketîr, or “very clever,” and nothing is more respected than the capacity for cheating everyone. May not this be considered as a characteristic of the Semitic people from the days of Jacob downwards?

Though liars by nature, and often forced to lie by the oppression of an unjust government, the peasantry are able to appreciate truthfulness in other nations. There is an expression which is common amongst them, and of which we have reason to be proud; for in striking a bargain they will promise by the Kelim Inkleez, or “Englishman’s word,” as equivalent to saying that they will faithfully perform their undertakings. This reputation for trustworthiness is well supported by many an Englishman in the country, and we never lost an opportunity of reminding the peasantry that an Englishman’s word was his bond.

These traits of the national character are all characteristic of Semitic origin, and are not less distinctive of the Jews; high religious zeal, endurance, intelligence, energy, and courage of a peculiar kind, are qualities eminently remarkable in the Jewish character, and, on the other hand, love of money, craft, exclusiveness, and lying, are vices which have always been chargeable against that nation.

With qualities such as those above enumerated the native peasantry are capable, under a wise government, of becoming a fine people: the present rule of the Turks discourages them in every way; their natural quickness is uncherished by education, their industry is rendered useless by unjust taxation and robbery, their worst vices are unchecked, and they have become broken-spirited and hopeless, under an oppression of which no idea can be formed in England; their only object is therefore to drag on their miserable lives with as little trouble as possible.

One trait remains to be noticed as forming a serious drawback in any attempt to improve the condition of the people. This again is a Semitic characteristic, namely, unbounded personal conceit and vanity—a peculiarity of the people which is most striking and disagreeable to anyone dealing with them.

A Syrian believes himself to be far more capable of conducting the most difficult affairs than a European specially educated; and the peasantry—perhaps not well impressed by the behaviour of tourists ignorant of the language—are generally convinced that the Franks are far less clever than themselves, while the marvels of civilisation are commonly attributed to a knowledge of magic which the Franks are universally believed to possess.

Such childish ideas are no doubt due to the want of any education; yet education does not always improve the Syrian, but rather renders him more insufferable; and in speaking of politics, or any other branch of ordinary conversation, the Syrian townsman exhibits, with ludicrous self-complacency, the meagre information which, in his eyes, is enough to fit him for delivering an authoritative opinion on the destinies of nations, or on deep scientific subjects.

This self-conceit is not less noticeable in religion; spiritual pride, and the conviction that they alone are fitted to understand the true faith, make the conversion of this nation to Christianity practically an impossibility, and incline them to accept without question the studious misrepresentations which are disseminated by their religious teachers.

Such conceit is also eminently characteristic of the Jews. Among the Rabbinical writers it reaches a pitch which is little short of insanity, and the lesson of humility taught in the parable of the Publican and the Pharisee might well be inculcated daily on Jew and Syrian alike.

Among minor traits, the want of appreciation of humour is the most remarkable, and it is no doubt connected with the above mentioned self-conceit. The Eastern people are by nature grave and dignified, and they have but little sense of the ludicrous. Thus what is known amongst us as “chaff” is never heard in conversation among natives of Palestine, and their only attempts at witticisms are feeble puns. This again may be said to be a peculiarity of the Jews, puns being common in Hebrew writing.

In order to trace the origin of any people it is necessary, as Max Müller tells us, to know the language they speak, and to trace its history. The examination of the peasant language in Palestine is therefore of the highest interest.

The Syrians speak a dialect of Arabic, which ranks between the purer Egyptian and the very corrupt Mughrabee language, in the scale which has for a standard the Arabic of the Bedawîn of Arabia. The main characteristics of pronunciation are as follows:

The letter Jîm is pronounced like J in joy, not hard, like G, which is the Hebrew pronunciation of the letter still used in Egypt. The Dhal is confused in pronunciation with the Zain, with which it has a common origin in Hebrew. The Tha and the Sin are in the same way both pronounced like S, and both represent the Hebrew Sin. The Kaf is almost always pronounced Chaf; the Kof is sometimes sounded like hard G, as among the Bedawîn, and sometimes it is yet further changed into J, while among the people near Jerusalem, as well as in Damascus, it is hardly sounded at all, being represented by a catch in the breath, like the letter Hamzah. The Lam and Nun are confounded, and used for one another, especially at the end of words, where the L is almost always changed to N. Further peculiarities to be noted are, the addition of sh to negatives, as ma fish (“there is not,”) for ma fi, the broad pronunciation of the vowels (the Wow being often sounded where it does not really exist), and the unnecessary use of diminutives or double diminutives. Lastly, the Alef is prefixed to words of which it forms no radical part, as in the cases Ajdûr for Jedûr, Abzîk for Bezîk, etc.

Now these peculiarities, in almost every case, serve to connect the peasant dialect with the old Aramaic, which Jerome tells us was the language of the natives of Palestine in the fourth century. The addition of unnecessary vowels is remarkable in the Rabbinical dialect, and, as has been shown above, the Fellahîn, in their vulgar pronunciation, preserve the most archaic sound of certain letters which were (according to Gesenius and scholars of equal authority) originally indistinguishable from others, but which in the polite pronunciation of the townsmen have now quite distinct sounds. Thus, for instance, in the modern Idhen we should scarcely recognise the Hebrew Uzen, “an ear,” but when this word is pronounced by a peasant in Palestine it resumes its old sound of Uzen.

Nor is it from pronunciation alone that we are able to judge of the character of the language; words in common use are equally instructive. Thus, for instance, almost all the words used in the Bible to express such natural features as rocks, torrents, pools, springs, etc., etc., are still in use in the peasant language quite unchanged, not only in connection with ancient sites, but in the common nomenclature of the country. A few words do, indeed, appear to have lost their original meaning, as in the cases of the Hebrew Tireh, “a fenced city;” Bireh, “a fortress;” and Râmeh, “a hill,” names still commonly applied to villages, but the meaning of which appears not to be understood by the peasantry; these cases seem, however, to be exceptions, which prove the rule that Aramaic, and even Hebrew words—not now used in the Arabic language—are of common occurrence among the peasantry, their original signification being still understood.

There are also words apparently peculiar to the peasant dialect, such as ’Arâk, for a “cavern” or “cliff,” which is not found in any dictionary. Space will not allow of a further disquisition on this subject, but it might easily be shown how simple an explanation of local names is often afforded by translating them, when not otherwise intelligible, as though of Aramaic origin. On the whole, the language appears to bear so strong an affinity to that which we know to have been commonly spoken in the country as late as the fourth century, that the peasantry may, without exaggeration, be said to speak Aramaic rather than Arabic, or at least a dialect formed by the influence of the language of their Arab conquerors on the original Aramaic tongue.