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.
One of the most valuable results of this inquiry is, that a philological
reason is thus afforded for that general preservation of the names of
ancient sites in Palestine, which has always been considered
extraordinary, and perhaps doubtful. The language being unchanged, it is
evidently natural that local names should be also unchanged, the
original meaning being understood by the peasantry in most cases. Many
instances of this might be brought forward, and the alteration which has
occurred in the nomenclature of the country, as a whole, seems
wonderfully small, almost every important site retaining its Biblical
name. The investigation of the language appears to me to raise the study
of identification from an empirical pursuit of fancied resemblances, to
the level of a science governed by recognised laws of change and
modification, laws which must be observed strictly in all cases of
really satisfactory identification.
If we may judge the origin of any people by language, then by their
dialect, the descent of the Fellahîn, or “tillers,” may be traced from
older inhabitants of Palestine, and perhaps from the pre-Israelite
population, which--despite the fierce onslaught of the first Jewish
conquerors under Joshua--was, as we may gather from the Bible, never
entirely outrooted, but remained in the land (in much the same position
as that which the Saxons occupied under their Norman rulers) as a
distinct people, though members of the same great family (the Semitic
race), regarded as inferior to the Jewish dominant class, “hewers of
wood,” “drawers of water,” “the beasts of the people.” It was precisely
to this peasantry that the educated Jews of the second century of our
era assigned the Aramaic language; the holy Hebrew of the Sacred Books
being confined to the priests, by whom chiefly, after the return from
the Captivity, that more ancient tongue appears to have been studied.
It is interesting to inquire whether foreign influence is traceable in
the peasant language. Foreign words do indeed occur, such as “Burj” for
a tower, or “burg,” and El Mineh for a harbour, which has already been
explained to be a corruption of the Greek Limen; but these words, with
many Crusading names of places which are attached to mediæval or later
sites, cannot properly be said to be commonly used in the language; in
fact, it is extraordinary to note how very small the influence of
foreign conquerors, Greek, Roman, or Frank, seems to have been on the
language. The pretentious titles, Eleutheropolis, Nicopolis,
Scythopolis, etc., have quite disappeared, and the old native names of
these cities, Beth Gubrin, Emmaus, Bethshean, etc., are those now known,
with the important exception of Nâblus, the modern name for Neapolis,
the ancient Shechem--a change which may perhaps be traced to Jewish
hatred of the name of Shechem.
Their language, then, seems to show that the Fellahîn are a people well
worthy of study, because apparently of a very ancient stock, which is
still preserved comparatively pure; and we may therefore naturally
expect their religion, habits, and customs to have an interesting
bearing on the graphic accounts of peasant life which are found in the
Bible.
By their religious peculiarities, still further light is thrown on the
history of the modern Fellahîn.
The professed religion of the country is Islam, the simple creed of “one
God, and one messenger of God;” yet you may live for months in the
out-of-the-way parts of Palestine without seeing a mosque, or hearing
the call of the Muedhen to prayer. Still the people are not without a
religion which shapes every action of their daily life, a religion of
most complex growth, requiring the utmost patience to enable us to trace
it to its various original sources.
In almost every village in the country a small building surmounted by a
whitewashed dome is observable, being the sacred chapel of the place; it
is variously called Kubbeh, “dome;” Mazâr, “shrine;” or Mukâm,
“station,” the latter being a Hebrew word used in the Bible for the
“places” of the Canaanites, which Israel was commanded to destroy “upon
the high mountains, and upon the hills, and under every green tree”
(Deut. xii. 2).
Just as in the time of Moses, so now, the position chosen for the Mukâm
is generally conspicuous. On the top of a peak, or on the back of a
ridge, the little white dome gleams brightly in the sun; under the
boughs of the spreading oak or terebinth; beside the solitary palm, or
among the aged lotus-trees at a spring, one lights constantly on the low
building, standing isolated, or surrounded by the shallow graves of a
small cemetery. The trees beside the Mukâms are always considered
sacred, and every bough which falls is treasured within the sacred
building.
The Mukâms are of very various degrees of importance; sometimes, as at
Neby Jibrîn, there is only a plot of bare ground, with a few stones
walling it in; or again, as at the Mosque of Abu Harîreh (a Companion of
the Prophet), near Yebnah, the building has architectural pretensions,
with inscriptions and ornamental stone-work. The typical Mukâm is,
however, a little building of modern masonry, some ten feet square, with
a round dome, carefully whitewashed, and a Mihrab or prayer-niche on the
south wall. The walls round the door, and the lintel-stone are generally
adorned with daubs of orange-coloured henna, and a pitcher for water is
placed beside the threshold to refresh the pilgrim. There is generally a
small cenotaph within, directed with the head to the west, the body
beneath being supposed to lie on its right side facing Mecca. A few old
mats sometimes cover the floor, and a plough, or other object of value,
is often found stored inside the Mukâm, where it is quite safe from the
most daring thief, as none would venture to incur the displeasure of the
saint in whose shrine the property has thus been deposited on trust.
This Mukâm represents the real religion of the peasant. It is sacred as
the place where some saint is supposed once to have “stood” (the name
signifying “standing-place”), or else it is consecrated by some other
connection with his history. It is the central point from which the
influence of the saint is supposed to radiate, extending in the case of
a powerful Sheikh to a distance of perhaps twenty miles all round. If
propitious, the Sheikh bestows good luck, health, and general blessings
on his worshippers; if enraged, he will inflict palpable blows,
distraction of mind, or even death. If a man seems at all queer in his
manner, his fellow-villagers will say, “Oh, the Sheikh has struck him!”
and it is said that a peasant will rather confess a murder, taking his
chance of escape, than forswear himself on the shrine of a reputed
Sheikh, with the supposed certainty of being killed by spiritual
agencies.
The _cultus_ of the Mukâm is simple. There is always a guardian of the
building; sometimes it is the civil Sheikh, or elder of the village,
sometimes it is a Derwîsh, who lives near, but there is always some one
to fill the water-pitcher, and to take care of the place. The greatest
respect is shown to the chapel, where the invisible presence of the
saint is supposed always to abide. The peasant removes his shoes before
entering, and takes care not to tread on the threshold; he uses the
formula, “Your leave, O blessed one,” as he approaches, and he avoids
any action which might give offence to the _numen_ of the place.
When sickness prevails in a village, votive offerings are brought to the
Mukâm, and I have often seen a little earthenware lamp brought down by
some poor wife or mother, whose husband or child was sick, to be burnt
before the shrine.
A vow to the saint is paid by a sacrifice called Kôd, or “requital,” a
sheep being killed close to the Mukâm, and eaten at a feast in honour of
the beneficent Sheikh.
At the festival of Bairam, processions are often made to these shrines;
and at the more famous Mukâms--such as Neby Mûsa, near the Dead Sea, or
Neby Rubîn, south of Jaffa--hundreds of pilgrims gather round the little
building. In 1874 I saw one of these ceremonies at the village of
Dhâherîyeh. The chief men of the place assembled in the morning, clad in
their best dresses, with spotless turbans and new cloaks, each with his
pipe (a luxury forbidden during Ramadân) in his mouth. They marched,
chanting, through the village in a compact body, with the Sheikh in
front, and they visited two little domed buildings in succession. They
did not enter the chamber, though one man looked in through the window,
but in conclusion, eight elders, closely packed in a circle, with their
arms on one another’s shoulders, swayed slowly backwards and forwards,
in a weird and solemn dance resembling an incantation. It was thus,
perhaps, that David danced before the ark.
The worship of local personal divinities by the peasantry reminds one
strongly of the ancient _cultus_ of the Canaanite tribes, which seems
never to have been stamped out during the period recorded in the Bible;
and the veneration of sacred trees and sacred hill-tops, which seems
thus handed down, is also specially denounced in the Mishna. The Mukâm
worship thus forms one more striking point of resemblance between the
modern Fellahîn and the original inhabitants of Palestine.
A very curious circumstance with regard to the Mukâms comes to light on
careful examination. It is striking to find that the saint or prophet
has often a name unmistakably Christian; Bulus (Paul), Budrus (Peter),
Metta (Matthew), are instances. In almost all the great Crusading towns,
El Khŭdr will be found to have a chapel, now venerated by the
Moslems; and El Khŭdr is St. George, as can easily be shown, as, for
example, at Darum, where he is also called by the latter name. The plain
fact of the matter is, that the peasantry have adopted Christian sacred
sites, and have received Christian saints into their Pantheon. This can
be proved by innumerable instances, of which the following are among the
most striking:
In 1631 A.D., a little chapel was erected by the monks near a cave at
the foot of Carmel, and called by them “the School of the Prophets.” In
1635 A.D., a Moslem Derwîsh took possession of the building, and the
Mohammedans still hold it. This place is regarded as sacred by the
Moslem peasantry, though the shrine is well known to be of Christian
origin.
In 1187 A.D., a chapel of St. John stood near the caves of certain
hermits, which were opposite Castel Pelegrino, now ’Athlît. A glance at
the Survey shows caves still existing east of that fortress, and near
them is a little Mukâm of the Prophet Ahia, which is the native name of
John the Baptist. Here, then, the Moslems have again adopted a Christian
shrine.
In 1432 A.D., Bertrandon de la Brocquiére was shown a mountain between
Gaza and Hebron, called the “Penance Mountain of St. John.” A hill
called “the place of separation of Ahia” is still shown by the peasantry
in that direction.
Nor is it Christian tradition alone which is thus absorbed. Jacob
Shelleby, the Samaritan, complained to me that the Moslems had robbed
the Samaritans of the “Mosque of the Pillar,” which the latter now
believe to have been the scene of Joshua’s “pillar by the oak,” near
Shechem, just as they robbed the Christians of the little chapel at the
Hizn Y’akûb, also close to Nâblus.
It might, perhaps, be argued that the reason of this adoption of
Christian sites by Moslems is to be sought in a common origin of
Christian and native tradition, and that the adoption proves the sites
to be authentic. It is easier to advance this theory than to disprove
it; yet the tomb of Samuel is now fixed by a tradition, which was not
generally accepted until after the twelfth century, and the venerated
tomb of Moses, which is connected with the site of an old monastery, is
now shown _west_ of Jordan, in plain contradiction to Scripture. Surely
these, at least, are not genuine sites; but above all, the tradition
still preserved by the Bedawîn which connects the “high mountain” of Our
Lord’s Temptation with a hill 500 feet below the level of the
Mediterranean (see page 205) cannot be regarded as anything but a
monkish legend.
Stories may be collected among the peasantry which are evidently garbled
versions of Scriptural episodes. The actors are sometimes local
worthies, such as Sheikh Samat, whose tomb seems to be the supposed
sepulchre of Samson, which was shown by the Jews in the fourteenth
century; in other cases they are the companions of the Prophet, and
especially Imâm ’Aly, while the enemies of the Faithful are represented
as Christians.
It has been thought by some that these tales are really ancient and of
value; but I believe that a much more probable origin is to be found in
the teachings of mediæval monks. In more than one case the sites
connected with these stories were also recognised in the middle ages;
as, for instance, the so-called tomb of Samson--not in Zoreah, but in
Gaza--now called by the Moslems “Aly the Enslaved,” and corresponding to
the mediæval tomb of Samson also at one time shown in Gaza. The site of
the Tomb of David in Jerusalem can also be traced to a Christian
tradition of late date, and so with many others too numerous to mention;
and there is, as far as I have been able to find, no proof that any of
these garbled versions of Bible events are genuinely ancient or derived
from native tradition. Even the legend of the Fenish, or Philistines,
which seems to be the most probably genuine tradition yet collected, is
of dubious origin, for the peasants say that the Fenish were Christians,
and the sites connected with the name are invariably Crusading towns or
fortresses.
The very general preservation of mediæval and Byzantine sacred places
among the peasantry is evidence of the great influence which the monks
in the middle ages must have possessed. Jerome speaks of the “great
number of the brethren” living in Palestine in his days, and the ruins
found in every part of the country show that from the fifth to the
thirteenth centuries it must have literally swarmed with monks and
hermits. The peasantry seem to retain almost an affectionate memory of
the convents; the titles “Monastery of Good Luck,” “Charitable Convent,”
etc., show the appreciation in which these institutions were formerly
held; and perhaps the sincere efforts of many good men for the
conversion of the heathen may still be traced in the blind veneration
which is bestowed by Moslems, who “know not what they worship,” on
sanctuaries which were, as their modern names show, originally dedicated
to the patron saints of the now despised and hated Christians, who once
ruled the land.
The Mukâms may be divided into the following six groups. First, there
are the places Sacred to well-known Scriptural characters, the sites
being generally derived from Jewish tradition, and apparently
authentic--as, for instance, the tombs of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph,
Eleazar, and Phinehas. Noah also has many Mukâms in Palestine; and to
one, at least, is attached a curious tradition of the Flood, which is
supposed to have welled up from a spring near the sacred place. Seth,
Shem and Ham have also Mukâms in Philistia, and the twelve patriarchs
have places sacred to them, with the exception of Gad, Issachar, Asher,
and Naphtali. The tomb of Joshua seems also to be preserved, as noticed
in a former chapter.
The second class of Mukâms consists of sacred places derived from
Christian tradition, which, as above shown, is a very large one.
The third includes many saints who cannot easily be identified, as the
Prophets Kamil, ’Anîn, Baliân, and Nurân, with many others. In this
class many _pairs_ of saints may be included, as “the Sheikh of the
Olive” and his mother; Sheikh Waheb (“the devoted”) with his sister
S’adeh, and many others, survivals perhaps of the old Phœnician duads
and triads: to this class we may add a number of female saints who have
descriptive names.
The fourth class consists of well-known historical characters now held
in high veneration, including the various Companions of the Prophet, and
many yet more modern personages, such as Sheikh Shibleh and Sheikh Abu
Ghôsh, who were famous bandits in 1700 and 1813 respectively.
The fifth class of Sheikhs, consisting of those with descriptive titles,
is, perhaps, in some respects the most important; for from these we
learn most of the common ideas of the peasantry as to their saints. Thus
we have among them Sheikhs called the Persian, the Median, the
Æthiopian, the raingiver, the healer, the inspired, the madman, the
idiot, the protector, the just, the wise, the serpent-charmer, the
pilgrim, and the champion, with a host of others, showing how varied are
the supposed characters and powers of these invisible guardians.
The sixth class includes those Sheikhs with common names, such as
Abraham, David, Joseph, Mohammed, etc., which, as a rule, are of but
little importance.
We have, then, in this great Pantheon of local deities, a jumble of
traditions, Jewish, Christian and Moslem, showing the various influences
which have successively acted on the peasantry. There are, indeed,
indications of possibly ancient traditions, but the large majority at
least of those current among the peasantry are probably traceable to
monkish origin, and in many cases are evidently not older than the
middle ages.
The stories usually related of the Sheikhs are neither interesting in
themselves, nor do they apparently conceal any mythological meaning. One
saint flew through the air after death in her coffin; a second prayed
with his cloak spread on the sea; the bones of a third were collected by
his dog, and carried to a mountain-top where they still lie buried; a
fourth called the remains of his camel, which had been partly eaten by
infidels, from a dust-heap, the camel answering his appeal with an
audible voice, and gathering its scattered limbs and bones to form a
living beast again. In the main the stories are childish, and resemble
those current among the Italian peasantry of the present day in
connection with Christian saints.
These traditions are not easily collected, partly because of the
distrust which the peasants show towards strangers, partly from their
fear of the displeasure of the saint, partly because such stories are
considered rather the women’s business; in many cases the real history
is, however, evidently forgotten, and the peasant answers that it is
“from ancient times,” and that he worships because his father and
grandfather did so before him. Such forgetfulness or ignorance as to the
origin of certain Mukâms is universal among the peasantry, and I have
been assured by those best acquainted with the natives that it is
genuine.
There is a difference in intelligence between inhabitants of different
districts, and in different grades of peasant society, but even the
least ignorant know scarcely anything, while the cowherds and goatherds
are very little better than brute beasts. There was something almost
pathetic in the childish confidence which the poor peasants seemed to
repose in the wisdom and power of the English. Habîb told one man that
the English would some day take the country, and that then the poor
would be made rich; and his listener actually believed that, because he
was the poorest, he would be made king of the district. Another Fellah
said he had heard that the French had bought the sea; a third thought
that we were going to take away the ground in boxes.
Most of the peasantry believed we were seeking for hid treasure, which
by incantation would be wafted to England; and some supposed that we
were parcelling out the land, and erecting cairns on the high mountains
where the chief men would build their houses. Sometimes they dug for
gold under our cairns; often they pulled them down, and had in
consequence to be imprisoned. A shepherd in Galilee saw us levelling,
and had a vague idea we were making a railway. “Will you let the sea
into Jordan?” he asked; “or will the steamships go on wheels?” Such are
a few instances of common Fellah ideas. The peasantry could hardly
believe that in England there were no Arabs living in tents, and no
camels; and they supposed that though Christians might be more numerous
there than among themselves, still the majority of the population in
every European country must be Moslem.
Belief in the supernatural powers of certain persons of superior
sanctity is not confined, among the peasantry, to the dead. Many living
saints are also recognised in Palestine. Thus we heard of a man who fell
into a well, and called on a famous living Wely or “favourite of God” at
Jaffa; a hand, he said, pulled him out, and on going to the house of the
Wely, the latter declared he had heard him some ten miles off, and had
assisted him. The peasants are naturally prone to believe the
marvellous, and such stories are devoutly credited.
The most peculiar class of men in the country is that of the Derwîshes,
or sacred personages, who wander from village to village, performing
tricks, living on alms, and enjoying certain social and domestic
privileges, which very often lead to scandalous scenes. Some of these
men are mad, some are fanatics, but the majority are, I imagine, rogues.
They are reverenced not only by the peasantry, but also sometimes by the
governing class. I have seen the Kady of Nazareth ostentatiously
preparing food for a miserable and filthy beggar, who sat in the
justice hall, and was consulted as if he had been inspired.
A Derwîsh of peculiar eminence is often dressed in good clothes, with a
spotless turban, and is preceded by a banner-bearer, and followed by a
band, with drum, cymbal, and tambourine. In one case at Kannîr, the
banner-bearer was a negro, who worked himself into a sort of fury,
foamed at the mouth, and charged at us with the sharp spear-head of the
flag. As a rule, however, the saint is half-naked, and perhaps blind,
and holds a tin pot or plate for alms. One of this class, a fine old
mendicant from Mecca, with a shock head of uncut locks, came, spear in
hand, to our Jeb’a camp and offered, for a fee, to “pray for the column
(or cairn) in the day of our journeying.” Another ran before us for a
mile or more (as Elijah ran before Ahab’s chariot), shouting loudly as
he went.
It is natural to reflect whether the social position of the Prophets
among the Jews may not have resembled that of the Derwîshes. Revered by
the people, but hated by the ruling class when their influence was
directed against the king, or the court religion, the Prophets, though
solitary, poor, and unaided, became powerful in times of religious
revival, when they suddenly assumed the position of leaders, and became
persons of political importance, just as a Derwîsh might do even now in
times of fanatical excitement.
The Derwîshes belong to regular tribes with recognised chiefs: thus
there are the Raf’ai or “snake-charmers,” who draw out serpents from
their holes, and who are regularly initiated by their Sheikh, who is a
disciple of the “Saint of God, Raf’ai,” who came from Egypt. There are
many others, including those who perform strange feats--eating
scorpions, or sticking sharp swords into their cheeks or eyes. By
Europeans in Palestine the Derwîshes are generally regarded as
impostors.
The peasantry have numerous superstitions: they believe in incantations,
in charms, in divination by sand and other means, and in the evil eye,
their children being purposely left dirty, or even besmirched, to avoid
the consequences of an envious look. The belief in evil spirits is also
general. These include first the jan, or powerful demon, good or bad,
the latter kind having for bodies the tall smoke-pillars of the
whirlwind, so commonly seen in summer; secondly, the ’Afrît, who is
seemingly equivalent to a ghost; thirdly, the Ghoul, or Hag of the
cemetery, which feeds on the dead: a place haunted by one of these
demons is carefully avoided, or at least never approached without the
most polite salutations, intended to appease the unseen spirit:
fourthly, there are the Kerâd or “goblins,” whose name is akin to the
Arabic word for a monkey; lastly, there is the Shaitân or Satan, a name
often applied to human beings of an evil disposition.
Among the peculiar religious institutions of the country are the sacred
trees, which are generally oaks, or terebinths, with names taken from
some Sheikh to whom they belong. They are covered all over with rags
tied to the branches, which are considered acceptable offerings.
On most of the great roads piles of stones will be found, erected at
some commanding point, and consisting of little columns a foot high,
made up of perhaps a dozen pieces of rock one above another. They are
called Meshâhed or “monuments,” and they mark the spot whence some
famous sanctuary is first seen by the pilgrim.
Last of all the Shûsheh should be mentioned, the one long tuft of hair
left at the back of the shaven head, by which the Moslems believe that
the angel Gabriel will bear them to heaven. This fashion of wearing the
hair is traced back to primitive times, and is thought to be connected
with the worship of Tammuz.
The great fasts of the Moslem religion are most rigorously observed by
the more pious among the peasantry. During the month of Ramadân many of
them will travel or toil all day without drinking, eating, or smoking,
and some even keep ten days more than the prescribed number, as a work
of supererogation. Bairam, with its feast of flesh, which is perhaps the
only meat tasted by the Fellah during the year, is but a slight
recompense for this self-denial, which is yet more trying in a hot and
wearisome climate.
Such are the blind and confused religious views of the so-called Moslem
peasantry. It cannot but be evident to any observer who stays long in
the country, that the fatalism of the creed has a most unhappy influence
on the people. Christian villages thrive and grow, while the Moslem ones
fall into decay; and this difference, though due perhaps in part to the
foreign protection which the native Christians enjoy, is yet
unmistakably connected with the listlessness of those who believe that
no exertions of their own can make them richer or better, that an iron
destiny decides all things, without reference to any personal quality
higher than that of submission to fate, and that God will help those who
have lost the will to help themselves.
The above notes are necessarily much condensed. But the general result
seems to point to an almost unmixed Aramean stock as that from which the
peasants of Palestine have most probably sprung. The native divisions of
the population are curious and instructive, namely, the various Beni or
“Sons” in different districts; thus, for instance, the greater part of
Samaria is called “the country of the two tribes,” alluding perhaps to
Ephraim and Manasseh. The peasantry are very stationary, and the
majority of the villagers have scarcely ever travelled more than ten
miles away from home; yet migrations of the various Beni are
traditionally said to have occurred in former times, and they would be
perhaps worth tracing.
It appears in short that in the Fellahîn, as descendants of the old
inhabitants of Palestine, we find a people whose habits and customs are
well worthy of study, because we should naturally expect them to throw
much light on the Bible narrative. Those habits and customs will now be
briefly described.
[Illustration: COSTUMES.]