THE SURVEY OF SAMARIA.
It is a remarkable fact, but one which can scarce be disputed, that
while the descriptions given of tribe boundaries and cities in the Book
of Joshua are full and minute in the territory of Judea, and scarcely
less so in Galilee, they are fragmentary and meagre within the bounds of
Samaria. A short inspection of the topographical lists will convince any
student of this fact; he will find there is no account of the conquest
of Samaria, that the list of Royal Cities does not include the famous
Samaritan towns, Shechem, Thebez, Acrabbi, and others; that no list of
the cities of Ephraim and Manasseh is included in the topographical
chapters of the Book of Joshua, no description of the northern limits of
Manasseh, and only a very slight one of the southern border, where that
tribe marched with Ephraim. However it may be accounted for, the plain
fact remains that this portion of the Book of Joshua is manifestly
incomplete.
The places of primary interest between the pass of the Robber’s
Fountain on the south and the Great Plain of Esdraelon on the north, are
five in all. Shiloh just south of the Samaritan boundary, Samaria,
Tirzah, Ænon, and Dothan, north of the Vale of Shechem.
There is no site in the country fixed with greater certainty than that
of Shiloh. The modern name Seilûn preserves the most archaic form which
is found in the Bible in the ethnic Shilonite (1 Kings xi. 29). The
position of the ruin agrees exactly with the very definite description
given in the Old Testament of the position of Shiloh as “on the north
side of Bethel (now Beitîn), on the east side of the highway that goeth
up from Bethel to Shechem, and on the south of Lebonah” (Lubben) (Judges
xxi. 19). It is just here that Seilûn still stands in ruins. The
traveller leaves Bethel, descends into the gorge of the Robber’s
Fountain, and emerges into open ground near Sinjil (Casale St. Gilles of
the Crusaders). Here he leaves the main road to Shechem on the west, and
passes over the corn-plain of Turmus Eyya (the Thormasia of the Talmud).
The scenery of the wild mountains is finer than that in Judea; the red
colour of the cliffs, which are of great height, is far more picturesque
than the shapeless chalk mounds near Jerusalem; the fig-gardens and
olive-groves are more luxuriant, but the crops are poor compared to
those in the plain and round Bethlehem; Judea is the more fertile
district, Mount Ephraim the more rugged and picturesque.
We approached Shiloh from the south, by a mountain-road of evident
antiquity, from the little plain. The ruins of a modern village here
occupy a sort of Tell or mound. On the east and north the site is shut
in by bare and lofty hills of grey limestone, dotted over with a few
fig-trees; on the south the plateau looks down on the plain just
crossed. A deep valley runs behind the town on the north, and in its
sides are many rock-cut sepulchres; following its course westward, we
again reached the main road, thus avoiding a steep pass, and turning
northwards found the village of Lebonah perched on the hillside to the
west of the road and north of Shiloh, as described in the Bible.
Shiloh was for about 400 years the chosen abode of the Tabernacle and
Ark. It is a question of no little interest whether this was the first
spot selected after the conquest of the hills by Joshua. That Shiloh
became the gathering-place after the conquest of Shechem there is
abundant proof (Josh. xxii. 12), and it may be inferred that the
Tabernacle was placed there early; but, on the other hand, we find
“Sanctuary of the Lord” (or Holy Place of Jehovah) mentioned, by the Oak
near Shechem (Josh. xxiv. 26), and we may perhaps gather that, though
not recognised by the doctors of the Mishna, there was a time when the
Tabernacle stood, as is believed by the Samaritans, near Shechem. The
date which they give for its transference to Shiloh, in the time of Eli,
whom they consider to have been the first schismatical leader of the
children of Judah, does not, however, accord with the Biblical account,
and the story no doubt originated in consequence of religious hatred.
The site being so certainly known, it becomes of interest to speculate
as to the exact position of the Tabernacle. Below the top of the hill,
on the north of the ruins, there is a sort of irregular quadrangle,
sloping rather to the west, and perched above terraces made for
agricultural purposes. The rock has here been rudely hewn in two
parallel scarps for over 400 feet, with a court between, seventy-seven
feet wide, and sunk five feet below the outer surface. Thus there would
be sufficient room for the court of the Tabernacle in this area, and it
is worthy of notice that the measurement north and south agrees very
closely with the width of the court (fifty cubits), which was also
measured north and south. From the Mishna we learn that the lower part
of the Tabernacle erected at Shiloh was of stone, with a tent above.
There are, however, two other places which demand attention as possible
sites, one being perhaps a synagogue, the other a little building called
the “Mosque of the Servants of God.”
The building which I have called a synagogue is situate on a slope south
of the ruins of Shiloh. It is thirty-seven feet square, and built of
good masonry. The door is on the north, and is surmounted by a flat
lintel, on which is a design in bold relief, representing vases and
wreaths. Inside there are pillars with capitals seemingly Byzantine. A
sloping scarp has been built against the wall on three sides, and a
little mosque sacred to El Arb’ain--“the Forty” Companions of the
Prophet--is built on to the east wall. There is a pointed arch on the
west wall. Thus we have at least three periods--that of the old
synagogue represented by the lintel, which is similar to the lintels of
Galilean synagogues, that of a later Christian erection, and finally
the Moslem mosque, built probably where the apse of the chapel would
have been placed.
The Jami’a el Yeteim, or “Mosque of the Servants of God,” is situate at
the southern foot of the Tell. It is shaded by a large oak-tree, and is
of good masonry like that of the last; there was nothing very remarkable
in the little low chamber within, but the name seems to preserve a
tradition of the position of the Tabernacle.
The only water close to the village was once contained in a little tank
with steps, south of the lower mosque. There is, however, a fine spring
placed, as is often to be observed in Palestine, at a distance of no
less than three quarters of a mile from the town, at the head of the
valley which comes down behind the ruins from the east. A good supply of
water here issues into a rocky basin, and was once carried by an
underground aqueduct to a rock-cut tank, but is now allowed to run
waste.
The vineyards of Shiloh have disappeared, though very possibly once
surrounding the spring, and perhaps extending down the valley westwards,
where water is also found. With the destruction of the village
desolation has spread over the barren hills around.
A yearly feast was held at Shiloh, when the women came out to dance in
the vineyards (Judges xxi. 21). It is possible that a tradition of this
festival is retained in the name Merj el ’Aid, “Meadow of the Feast,” to
the south of the present site.
Shiloh lies in so remote a situation, so hidden by its surrounding
hills, and so out of the main highways, that neither the early pilgrims
nor the Crusaders seem to have ever known of its position, and it is
unnoticed by any writer but Jerome before the sixteenth century. The
Crusaders considered Neby Samwîl (or Mount Joy, as they preferred to
call it) to be Shiloh, and also Ramathaim Zophim, or Gibeah of Saul.
Such wild ideas are sufficient to show their ignorance of the Bible, and
are only noticeable as among the curiosities of Palestine geography.
The Tabernacle and Ark remained so long at this spot that it was
regarded by the Jews as only second to Jerusalem in sanctity. A curious
peculiarity of their worship is noticed in the Mishna, where they are
said to have been allowed to eat certain sacrifices at any spot whence
the Tabernacle could be seen, but not farther from it. As Shiloh was
shut in by mountains, the effect must have been to gather the
congregation much oftener to this remote valley, than when, at Nob or
Gibeon, the same sacrifices (the second tithes) might be eaten in any of
the cities of Israel.
The road from Shechem to Samaria leads down the course of the western
valley through groves of ancient olives with gardens of pomegranates and
figs. The olives are more picturesque than in Judea, as the trees are
not regularly arranged in quincunx order, but grow almost wild with a
tangled underwood. Those in the valley beneath Nâblus seem to be of
great age, and have split up into two or three stems from one root, with
numerous suckers. Leaving these groves, the road climbs the side of a
white chalk swell, where the ground is strewn with gravel from the huge
blocks of beautiful brown flint conglomerate like agate, which runs in
bands through the rock. It finally descends into a valley, open and well
watered, and passes beneath the Hill of Samaria, which is thickly
covered with olives.
Samaria is in a position of great strength, and though it would now be
commanded from the northern range, it must, before the invention of
gunpowder, have been almost impregnable. It stands some 400 feet above
the valley, the sides of the hill being steep, and terraced in every
direction for cultivation, or perhaps for defensive purposes, as
Josephus tells us the hill was scarped by Herod the Great (Ant., xv. 8,
5); broad and open valleys stretch north and south, and the hill is thus
almost isolated, being joined only by a low tongue on the east to the
chain of Ebal. The view northwards extends to the high ridge a few miles
off which divides the Nâblus district from the outskirts of the great
plain. On the east the lower slopes which run out of the great dome of
Ebal are visible, on the south and west the flat Samaritan hills stretch
away, covered with olives, and crowned by numerous villages which stand
on high knolls, generally with a central tower or larger house. It is
wonderful to reflect how great the antiquity of most of these hamlets
is. For four thousand years, in some instances, the little hill has been
covered by a succession of probably just the same sort of cottages which
now rise upon the ruins of their predecessors; for four thousand years
the women have gone down to the same spring, quarrelled, talked scandal,
and returned with their brown jars on their heads; for four thousand
years the cattle have trampled the corn and the wind has borne the
chaff from the great yellow corn-heap; for all this time the same race
has lived on, and has handed down the same village name, scarcely
changed from the time of Abraham to the present day.
The village of Sebŭstieh, representing the ancient Samaria, is built
on the brow of the great white hill, and immediately north-east of the
mud-hovels are the ruins of the beautiful Crusading church of St. John
Baptist, where, in a crypt, now held sacred by the Moslem peasantry, the
saint was supposed to have been beheaded. The tradition, though
erroneous, is ancient, and existed in 380 A.D. The church is a mere
shell, its roof and the pillars of the nave having been destroyed.
The site of the Paradise of Samaria, mentioned in the Talmud, is perhaps
represented by the spring and gardens to the south of the hill. The
ancient tombs, which included those of the Kings of Israel, seem to have
been situate to the north, on the opposite side of the valley, and none
have as yet been discovered on the hill itself.
The most interesting ruins, however, are those of Herod’s colonnade to
the west of the modern village. This building seems to have run round
the hill on a flat terrace, in the middle of which rises a rounded knoll
on which the Temple, dedicated to Augustus, and stated by Josephus to
have been in the middle of the town, presumably stood.
The cloister measures about 2100 feet east and west, and 660 feet north
and south; the walk being fifty feet wide in the one case, and 100 feet
in the other. The total circuit is thus some 5500 feet, but Josephus
(Ant. xv. 8) estimates it at twenty furlongs or 10,000 feet; his
statement is therefore considerably exaggerated, but is no doubt to be
considered as conjectural only.
In the south-west angle there seems to have been a gateway flanked by
small towers, the rock scarps of which remain. On the north-east there
is another street of columns at the bottom of the hill, running in a
line oblique to the sides of the upper colonnade. This seems to have
been an avenue of approach 180 feet wide, 1450 feet long; but it may
have been a distinct building, as no pillars remain on the upper slopes.
The pillar shafts are principally monoliths; they are not, however, of
colossal size like Herod’s work in Jerusalem, but only sixteen feet high
and two feet thick.
Samaria is not a city which can compare in antiquity with Shechem or
Hebron, for only just before Ahab’s time Omri bought the Hill of Shemer.
In the Talmud we find it called Shomron or “watch-tower” as in the
Bible, and also Sebustieh as at present, Sebaste being Herod’s name for
the town in honour of Augustus, to whom the Temple was dedicated.
Strategical reasons may be supposed to have dictated the choice of the
capital of Omri, for on the north the hill commands the main road to
Jezreel over a steep pass, on the west it dominates the road to the
coast, and on the east that to the Jordan through Wâdy Fâr’ah, the
highway to Gilead. Thus we find that when the Syrians, under Benhadad,
raised the siege, and fled by night down the great Fâr’ah valley to
Jordan, their panic was due to the fear of reinforcements which they
imagined they could hear advancing over the pass from the northern land
of the Hittites, and on the west up the open valley from Egypt (2 Kings
vii. 6).
The history of Samaria has often been summarised. It shared the
vicissitudes of Shechem, and was destroyed by John Hyrcanus in 129 B.C.
when he demolished the Temple on Gerizim. It rose to importance under
Herod, and then disappears for a time from history. It became the see of
a Crusading bishop about 1155 A.D., and is mentioned by many of the
Christian pilgrims. It is not, however, connected with the religion of
the people like Shechem, and there is therefore comparatively little to
describe in the political capital of Israel.
The traveller who rides across from Samaria behind Ebal, or who follows
the stony road in the magnificent gorge east of the same mountain, finds
himself gradually descending to the springs which lie at the head of the
great Fâr’ah valley, the open highway from the Dâmieh ford of Jordan to
Shechem. It was up this valley that Jacob drove his flocks and herds
from Succoth to Shalem near Shechem. It was along the banks of its
stream that the “garments and vessels” of the hosts of Benhadad were
strewn as far as Jordan. It was here also that Israel, returning from
captivity (according to the Samaritans), purified themselves before
going up to Gerizim to build the Temple; but the place possesses a yet
higher interest as the probable site of “Ænon near to Salem” where John
was baptizing, “because there was much water there” (John iii. 23).
The head-springs are found in an open valley surrounded by desolate and
shapeless hills. The water gushes out over a stony bed, and flows
rapidly down in a fine stream surrounded by bushes of oleander. The
supply is perennial, and a continual succession of little springs occurs
along the bed of the valley, so that the current becomes the principal
western affluent of Jordan south of the Vale of Jezreel. The valley is
open in most parts of its course, and we find the two requisites for the
scene of baptism of a multitude--an open space and abundance of water.
Not only does the name of Salem occur in the village three miles south
of the valley, but the name Ænon, signifying “springs,” is recognisable
at the village of ’Ainûn four miles north of the stream. There is only
one other place of the latter name in Palestine, Beit ’Ainûn near
Hebron, but this is a place which has no very fine supply of water and
no Salem near it. On the other hand, there are many other Salems all
over Palestine, but none of them have an Ænon near them. The site of
Wâdy Fâr’ah is the only one where all the requisites are met--the two
names, the fine water supply, the proximity of the desert, and the open
character of the ground.
The identification has been questioned on the assumption that Ænon
should be found near the desert of Judea, where John first preached
(Matt. iii. 1), but it will afterwards be seen that there is good reason
for placing Bethabara, where also he baptized, far from Judea and higher
up the valley of the Jordan than even this site of Ænon; and the large
area thus supposed to have been the theatre of the Baptist’s wanderings
fully accords with the words of the third Gospel, “He came into _all the
country_ about Jordan, preaching the baptism of repentance” (Luke iii.
3).
Here then in the wild desert valley, beneath the red precipices where
the hawk and kite find nests in “the stairs of the rocks,” or by the
banks of the shingly stream with its beautiful oleander blossoms shining
in the dusky foliage of luxuriant shrubs, we may picture the dark figure
of the Baptist in his robe of camel’s hair, with the broad leather
Bedawi belt round his loins, preaching to the Judean multitude of pale
citizens, portly grey-bearded Rabbis, Roman soldiers in leathern armour
and shining helmets, sharp-faced publicans, and, above all, to the great
mass of oppressed peasantry, the “beasts of the people,” uncared for,
stricken with palsy, with blindness, with fever, with leprosy, but
eagerly looking forward to the appearance of that Messiah who came to
preach the Gospel of the poor.
The scenery of Samaria differs from that both of Judea and of Galilee;
with the exception of the rugged hills south of Gerizim--the Mount Heres
(or “rough mountain”) of the Bible--the greater part of the district
consists of chalk hills covered with olives, and of open valleys and
plains which are wonderfully fertile. The great mountain blocks of
Galilee belong to the wilder ranges of Lebanon, and the long ridges of
hard limestone in Judea to a class of far less picturesque scenery.
It was among these hills and valleys that the Survey was extended during
the months of July and August, 1872. The land was stony and colourless,
dried up by the sun, the flowers long dead, and the glare from the white
rock very trying; between the ledges the little owls stared out on us;
the huge grey lizards lifted their tails like race-horses, scampering
across the path, or nodding angrily behind a stone with a sort of
mimicry of Moslem prayer-attitudes which causes them to be killed by the
Mohammedans whenever caught. In the olive-groves the hoopoes were
strutting with their crests lifted, on the rocks the gazelles now and
then bounded past, or a stray jackal was to be seen gazing from a safe
distance. Herds of black long-eared goats, tended by the ragged shepherd
boys, roamed over the uncultivated hills; by the springs the little red
cattle, scarcely larger than an English calf, were huddled in the shade,
flipping off the flies; and processions of blue-robed women came down
from the dust-coloured villages to fetch back water.
The slabs of rock were slippery from the smooth feet of the great camels
which came swinging along the highway, led by men on diminutive brown
donkeys. All was grey and dusty under a sky of lead in the east wind, or
deep blue when it came from the west. At the villages the corn was being
threshed and winnowed with instruments as old as the time of Abraham, in
their peculiarities of form. Palestine was in fact at its worst as far
as picturesqueness is concerned; but all was novel and strange, and the
interest had scarce time to subside before the fine changes of autumn
set in.
On one of our rides we visited the little village of Kuriet Jît, west
of Nâblus, in which there was a very high house fitted for a point in
the triangulation. It was generally better to choose a mountain-top, as
the curiosity of the villagers is often annoying. They were, however,
here unaccustomed to travellers, and behaved with the solemn courtesy
which used to be distinctive of the peasantry before European vulgarity
and European “backsheesh” had spoiled them. They stared hard at the
theodolite, which was variously conjectured to be a watch, a compass, a
telescope, or a combination of all three. At noon we retired into the
room which is kept especially for chance guests in every village. Here
we consumed breakfast, the Sheikh and elders sitting opposite to see us
feed, and afterwards invited to share the remains with our native
followers. The scene in colouring was almost equal to that of
Rembrandt’s interiors, the bright light through the little door touching
here and there the outlines of the swarthy figures in their mantles of
tawny camel’s-hair, striped with darker brown. The Sheikh was glad of
our escort back, as he was carrying the taxes to Nâblus. He inquired, as
he rode with us, how soon the English were coming to take the country
and “build it up again.”
[Illustration: GUEST HOUSE, KURIET JIT.]
On the 16th of August we left Nâblus and moved the camp northwards to
the village of Jeb’a.
The district thus entered is very rich, the villages large and
flourishing, with good stone houses in them, and the olives and corn
very fine. It is called the “Eastern District of the Jerrâr,” from the
name of a famous family of native chiefs, once the governors of all the
hills from the Great Plain to Nâblus on the south. The Sheikh of the
village at which we camped was one of this family, and we were treated
by its members with much courtesy, although this politeness may not have
been altogether disinterested.
The village of Jeb’a was on the east of our camp, on a hillside, and
well built of stone, with olives around it; on the north we looked
across a narrow plain to Remeth of Issachar, and other ancient villages
perched on heights; behind us the hills rose suddenly and stretched
westwards in the long spur from Mount Ebal. East of Jeb’a stands the
strong fortified village of Sânûr, on an isolated hill guarding the pass
into a small plain, called the “Drowned Meadow,” which has no natural
drainage, and thus becomes a marsh in the winter, drying up only in May
or June.
This fortified village has often been supposed identical with the
Bethulia of the Book of Judith, a place which was near Dothan; but Sânûr
does not fulfil one of the main requisites for the site, as it does not
command a view of the Plain of Esdraelon. It is curious that the village
of Mithilia, a little farther north, has been overlooked, the name of
which approaches closely to that of Bethulia, whilst the plain is seen
from the ridge near the village.
The head of the house of the Jerrâr lived at Sânûr, his nephew was
Sheikh of Jeb’a; the younger members of the family were innumerable, and
we were plagued with endless visits from them all. The Jeb’a family
invited us to dinner, and we were thus able to witness a phase in
peasant life not often seen by Europeans.
About six in the evening a man was sent to the camp to escort us, and we
walked through the village to the highest house, that of the Sheikh. The
inhabitants are wonderfully fine men, and used to be famous for their
feuds with the men of ’Arrâbeh, some miles to the north; they are still
redoubtable thieves, but in 1868 the Government came down on them after
a riot, killed some thirty or forty, fined the village heavily, and took
most of the young men for soldiers. The Sheikh’s house was well built
and new; the reception-room, on an upper floor, had a raised daïs, with
a low wooden rail, about six inches high, on the step. It was carpeted,
and pillows arranged against the walls at the upper end in the corners,
where we were requested to sit. The walls were covered with plaster very
brown and cracked. A gallery for sleeping was built at the lower end of
the room.
The Sheikh now appeared in his white robe, with a yellow silk _kufeyeh_
on his head bound with a black cord; removing his red slippers from his
well-washed feet, he stepped on to the daïs, touched our hands and then
his own breast, lips, and head, in token of the submissive formula, “On
my heart, my mouth, and my head.” The oft-repeated greetings, “How is
your health?” “How is your excellency?” “your worship,” “your lordship,”
next followed, with repetitions of the former signs, which are, very
gracefully executed. The host sat at a distance, or rather knelt, until
pressed to come near, when he gradually approached and sunk sideways on
one thigh, with his feet carefully hidden. An aged elder followed, and
then the son of the host; a third and fourth dropped in, and as each
appeared we rose and the same ceremonies were repeated with a dignity
and decorum which made one forget for a time that we were dealing with
ignorant and degraded peasants.
The Natûr, or village-watchman, and some servants now brought in a round
wooden table, about a yard in diameter, on legs some six inches high; it
was of rough wood, and folded down the centre. A huge brass basin
followed, with a brass ewer having a long spout like a coffee-pot; the
Sheikh’s son distributed towels, and we washed our right hands
preparatory to eating with them--to eat with the left hand being almost
as bad a breach of manners as to show the sole of the foot. A dozen
dishes were then brought in succession, taken by the young man from the
servants and placed on the board; they contained lentils, tomatoes, and
_kuzah_, a sort of vegetable-marrow, which were stuffed with rice; bowls
of sour milk (leben), a delicious sauce to such fare, were placed
between, but the centre of the table was still bare, until three huge
wooden dishes of rice, piled up in cones, with fragments of boiled meat
sticking out, were brought in. The most delicate dish, however, was a
kid (as we then thought, but afterwards doubted whether it were not our
own little gazelle which was lost soon after) dressed whole, with its
head and legs still on.
As we were Europeans, the great innovation of a pewter spoon and fork
was allowed, no doubt being considered as a wonderful mark of
civilisation by the Sheikh; thin discs of bread, unleavened and very
leathery, about a foot in diameter, were scattered on the carpet beside
each guest. We were invited to draw near, but had to press our host for
some time before he ventured to eat with us; finally he sat down with
two more, and the son carved--that is to say, pulled the meat in pieces
with his right hand, and made up little parcels wrapped in a funnel of
bread for us to eat: the liver and kidneys of the kid were placed inside
the ribs and considered great delicacies; the whole fare was tender and
good, but rather too oily for European palates, and the want of salt
rendered it insipid. No water was placed on the board, but a servant
brought it when required in a green glass; as each guest drank, his
nearest neighbour turned with a bow and said, “Digestion,” to which the
answer is (for every formula has its proper answer), “The Lord increase
your digestion,” accompanied by a touching of the head with the hand.
The meal completed we retired to our corners, and the basin was brought
again with water and soap--a necessity after using the fingers in
eating. Coffee was then handed round, whilst a fresh batch of guests
fell upon the feast, and was succeeded by a third, who left but little
remaining. The coffee was made clear, as among the Bedawin, which is far
more delicious than the thick Turkish coffee usually given to
travellers. The guests drank quickly, with a loud sipping sound, the
cups being about the size of an egg-cup and only half full, for to fill
the cup is an intimation that the host is anxious for you to go soon, as
is also the offer of a third cup soon after the second. A narghili or
hubble-bubble followed for each of us two, with pipes and cigarettes,
and Drake talked, describing England, London, and the railways, while I,
naturally, had to sit silent, not as yet knowing the language. The
Sheikh supposed we were looking for crosses cut on the ruins, and that
we should afterwards claim ownership of all such places--a belief
probably originating from the crosses cut on the lintels of every ruined
monastery of Crusading and Byzantine times.
About seven p.m. we retired, the host accompanying us to his door. We
slipped a coin into the servant’s hands, and afterwards sent a present
of gunpowder to the Sheikh.
Some days later we had a repetition of this scene at Sânûr. The host, an
unwieldy man in a black cloak, was yet more dignified, and the purple
jackets and green waistcoats of the younger men marked them out as great
dandies and local grandees. This village was so strong that it once
stood several days’ assault by regular troops, and only yielded on being
bombarded by the Pacha. An aged elder described seeing a cannon-ball
enter a room where cotton was stored, and roll the soft heap round
itself. The old Sheikh, once governor of the district, declaimed
bitterly against the Turks. “They rob and impoverish me,” he said. “Are
my women to carry wood and fetch water? Are my sons to plough the
ground?” The Government were following the same policy with the Jerrâr
family which has ruined the Zeidanîyin in the north, and the Abu Ghôsh
in the south, and has certainly broken the national spirit, while
curbing the turbulence of the factions which caused constant local
outbreaks between neighbouring villages.
The most remarkable point in the behaviour of these native gentry was
the reverence for age shown even by grey-bearded men to those some ten
years older. We noticed also that the religious Sheikh of the village
sat above our host after the Jeb’a banquet.
On Friday, the 30th of August, we left Jeb’a and moved on to Jenîn.
By noon we reached Dothan, the scene of Joseph’s betrayal by his
brethren, and halted under a spreading fig-tree beside a long cactus
hedge. Just north of us was the well called Bîr el Hŭfîreh, “Well of
the Pit,” and east of us a second, with a water-trough, thus accounting
for the name Dothan, “two wells.” Above the wells on the north rises the
shapeless mound where the town once stood, and on the west spread the
dark brown plain of ’Arrâbeh, across which runs the main Egyptian
road--the road by which the armies of Thothmes and Necho came up from
the sea-coast, and by which the Midianite merchants went down with their
captive. The cattle stood by the well, huddling in the shade, waiting to
be watered, and rude cowherds and goatherds gathered around us in groups
which were no doubt not far different in dress or language from Joseph’s
brethren four thousand years ago.
One place of interest must be noticed in concluding this
chapter--Tirzah, once the capital of Israel, famous for its beauty.
It is the only Samaritan town mentioned among the royal cities taken by
Joshua, and even this name was changed by the Rabbinical writers into
Tiran, a place in Galilee.
Just twelve miles east of our Jeb’a camp, on a plateau where the valleys
begin to dip suddenly towards Jordan, stands the mud hamlet of Teiâsîr.
We afterwards visited it from the Jordan camp, and found it to have been
once a place of importance, judging from the numerous, rock-cut
sepulchres burrowing under the houses, the fertile lands and fine olives
round, and the monument of good masonry, seemingly a Roman tomb. Just
north of it we discovered a ruin called Ibzîk, which is unquestionably a
Bezek known to Eusebius, and probably the place where Saul collected his
army before attacking the Ammonites (1 Sam. xi. 8).
In the latter ruin is a little chapel dedicated to Neby Hazkîn, “the
Prophet Ezekiel,” and the high mountain crowned with thicket behind is
called “Ezekiel’s Mountain.”
This name Teiâsîr I suppose to be Tirzah. It contains the exact letters
of the Hebrew word, though the two last radicals are interchanged in
position, a kind of change not unusual among the peasantry. The beauty
of the position and the richness of the plain on the west, the ancient
remains, and the old main road to the place from Shechem, seem to agree
well with the idea of its having once been a capital; and if I am right
in the suggestion, then the old sepulchres are probably, some of them,
those of the early kings of Israel before the royal family began to be
buried in Samaria.
[Illustration: VIEW FROM JENIN.]