Haifa, May 30.—Towards evening of the day on which I arrived at the
great Druse shrine of Neby Schaib, near Hattin, most of the sheiks who
were expected had arrived, with their retinues. It might have been a
feudal gathering of olden time; the noisy welcome of the chiefs, the
clansmen singing war-songs and firing guns, the women following on
donkeys, all combined to make a scene which carried one back to the
Middle Ages, and I never wearied looking at it.
My tent was pitched on the lowest terrace of the sacred building, for it
is not allowed to the unbeliever to pass the night within those holy
precincts. Indeed, it was an unprecedented privilege to be permitted
even to camp on the terrace, where there was only just room for my tent,
nor should I have been allowed to edge in so close to the mysteries of
Druse worship had there been five square yards of level ground within a
quarter of a mile. But the precipitous rocks frowned above us all
around, and the comparatively open space below was crowded with camels,
horses, and donkeys, compelled to chum together, whether they liked it
or not, and where the incessant din added to the general uproar of the
place. The constant and stentorian braying of donkeys, varied
occasionally by a horse fight, mingled with the barking of dogs, the
shrill scream of welcome or ululation of women, the loud singing and
clapping of hands of the dancing circles, and the firing of guns, all
augured badly for a night's rest.
However, there was no thought of going to bed yet; great piles of rice
on which whole sheep had been skilfully dissected were now borne in on
round platters, each carried by two men. There must have been from three
to four hundred people now collected at the shrine, and the feeding of
such a multitude was no joke. Of these nearly half were women, all in
gala dress, the favourite colours being blue, green, and red. I don't
know that I ever remember in the same number to have seen a larger
proportion of pretty women.
When I went up-stairs to the large vault which contains the tomb of the
prophet I came upon them unexpectedly, all seated on the floor around
the circular mats of parti-coloured straw which they use as tablecloths.
The room, which was seventy feet long by forty wide, was crowded with
this laughing, chattering, feeding, feminine multitude, with their
glorious eyes, white, regular teeth, bewitching smiles, and delicate
fingers plunged up to the knuckles into huge piles of greasy rice. Their
invitation that I should come and take pot-luck with them produced a
mixed sentiment in my breast. However, it was only said as a joke, for
even had I desired I should not have been allowed to accept it. The
entertainment was exclusively feminine, and I was surprised at so little
reverence being shown to the venerated shrine by the close proximity of
all this festivity.
Taking off our shoes and picking our way between these festive groups,
we reached, at the other end of the hall, the tomb of the prophet,
enclosed in a wooden screen hung with red cloth, while over the tomb
itself was spread a sort of green silk pall, embroidered with gold
stars. Some of the Druse sheiks who accompanied me reverently pressed
their lips to this. They then pointed out a square block of limestone,
in the centre of which was a piece of alabaster containing the imprint
of a human foot of natural size. The toes are defined with more
clearness than is usual in sacred footprints of this nature, and the
Druses stooped and kissed the impression, assuring me that, if I would
do so, I should feel that the rock exuded moisture, and that its
peculiarity was that it was never dry. I was constrained out of
politeness to appear to accede to their wishes, though I refrained from
testing the condition of the stone with my lips, as I felt suspicious,
considering how many lips had preceded mine, that any little dampness I
might discover might be easily accounted for otherwise than
supernaturally.
The question of footprints in the rock suggests some interesting
considerations. There are one or two others in different parts of
Palestine, as in the mosque at Hebron, built over the Cave of Macpelah,
and as they are artificial, it is probable that they are coronation
stones. We know by tradition that in ancient times a custom of this sort
existed in the British Isles, where footprints in rock exist, and there
are Scriptural allusions which give colour to a similar hypothesis in
Palestine. The pillar alluded to in the crowning of kings was probably
nothing more nor less than a coronation stone; and the habit which
existed in some countries of making the king stand with his foot in the
impression of a print in the stone, as a sign that he would walk in the
footsteps of his predecessor, may account for their occurrence in
Palestine. Thus we read that Abimelech “was made king by the oak of the
pillar that was in Shechem;” when Joash was anointed king by Jehoida,
“he stood by the pillar as the manner was,” and the same king “stood by
a pillar to make a covenant, and all the people stood to the covenant.”
The place of the footprint at Neby Schaib, in its elevated position
above the copious fountain which gushes from the base of the opposite
cliff, and the remarkable cropping up of the alabaster through the rock,
rendered it just such a spot as would be likely to be chosen for such a
purpose, and I think we may fairly hazard the conjecture that the
footprint at the Neby Schaib marks the coronation stone of the rulers in
this part of the country in early Jewish, or perhaps even more ancient,
times. It is far otherwise with the footprint of Buddha on Adam's Peak
in Ceylon, and with that of Christ on the Mount of Olives, both of which
I have seen, and both of which are natural, and bear only a fancied
resemblance to the human foot, that of Buddha being a depression in the
rock about five feet long. In the case of the print under consideration,
there was a split in the rock across the centre, which the Druses
accounted for by saying that when the prophet stepped here he split the
rock.
Meanwhile the women, having finished their repast, now prepared for a
dance on the terrace. The music consisted of singing, with a
hand-clapping accompaniment, executed principally by the spectators,
while the dancers formed in a circle, holding each other by the
waistband, and rhythmically swaying to and fro, as from time to time
they changed the character and the measure of their step. All their
movements were decorous, if not all actually graceful. Sometimes one
would separate herself from the ring, and, advancing to the centre,
perform a _pas seul_, while the others danced around her, she the while
flinging her hands aloft, waving in each a light muslin veil, and making
it float above her head, while she kept time with her feet. But among
the Druses, as among most Orientals, the hands play as prominent a part
in their terpsichorean exercises as their feet. The eminently good looks
of the dancers were set off by their becoming costumes. These consisted
of outer cloaks of a rich colour, linen or woollen, open all down the
front so as to display the whole underdress, with light sleeves cut
above the elbow, the whole trimmed either with wide bands of reddish
satin or with a rich cross-stitch embroidery of silk. The unsightliness
of the baggy trousers of dark blue is lost under the long,
semi-transparent chemise, which falls over them as a white tunic,
generally striped with thicker white, and tastefully embroidered with
silk around the neck. The white sleeves of the chemise, widely pointed,
and which flow about the forearm after escaping from the short cloak
sleeve, form a simple but very graceful feature of this costume, whether
they float freely or are twisted, for convenience in work, about the
elbow. Scarfs of various bright colours are wound below the waist, and
the cloak is usually caught together below the bosom by a cord or
button, giving that double girdle often presented in ancient classical
costume. The simple long, white cloth, with the centre of one edge drawn
low upon the forehead, its two ends hanging down the back almost to the
heels, bound fast by a wide fillet of brilliant colour tied around the
head, completes very attractively, with its ancient Egyptian appearance,
this simple but highly characteristic dress, which is enhanced by
necklaces and bangles, according to the rank and position of the wearer.
Our attention was now distracted by some rival performances of the male
part of the community in the courtyard below. Here the singing and
clapping of hands were louder and more vehement, and time was given by
one gentleman who played a pipe and another who was a sort of
bandmaster, and directed the changes of time and step. Here the central
figure who danced in the circle, instead of waving veils or
handkerchiefs, flourished a sword with great grace and dexterity,
slashing it about in excellent time to the music, and within an inch
sometimes of the noses, sometimes of the legs, of the performers. The
dancers worked themselves up at last to a high pitch of excitement and
perspiration, new ones perpetually dashing into the ring and taking the
places of those who were exhausted.
At last the gayeties were put an end to by the sheiks, who took no part
in them themselves, but looked on with solemn dignity. The “okâl,” or
initiated in the holy mysteries, despise all such frivolities, which are
reserved for women and the uninitiated. Most of these had been sitting
in a circle in a quiet part of the terrace by themselves, discussing
either religion or the political questions affecting the interests of
their nation, most probably the latter; but the hour had now arrived
when the serious business of the night was to begin and festivity was to
cease. The uproar died away, the elders wished us good-night, and
silently trooped up the stone stairs to the great hall, whence issued
the younger part of the female community, and I retired to the door of
my tent to sit in the bright moonlight and contemplate the strange
surroundings of my night quarters.
Soon there broke upon the stillness of the night the measured cadence of
a sacred chant. Now it swelled, as numerous voices, male and female,
took up the chorus; now it died away to a single voice. Never before,
probably, had stranger been able to listen so closely to the prayers and
invocations which characterize the mysterious and occult worship of the
Druses. One thing surprised me, which I think is not generally known,
and this is that women undoubtedly take part in some of their forms of
worship, not, however, in all, for on the following night they were
excluded, and the service was conducted by males alone. At last I went
to bed, but not to sleep; the noises of the animals, to which I was in
close proximity, for a long time banished repose, and when at last it
came fitfully, I heard ever and anon the rhythm of the sacred chant.
Throughout two entire nights, to my certain knowledge, did these Druses
pray and sing, though, as I fell asleep on each occasion towards
morning, I cannot precisely say at what hour their service was
concluded.
There can be no doubt that, while these gatherings are essentially
religious in their character, they are largely used for political
purposes. In this respect a wonderful organization exists among the
Druses. Although the nation may be said to be divided into three
sections, of which one—by far the largest—occupies the mountains of the
Hauran, known as the Jebel Druse, another the mountains of the Lebanon,
and the third and smallest the hills of northern Galilee, they keep up a
close contact with each other, and meetings such as these afford
opportunities for them to hold counsel in regard to the political
fortunes and condition of the nation. The Druses of the Jebel Druse, who
form two thirds of the nation, have only this year made peace with the
Turkish government, with whom they were at war last year, The
impracticable nature of the country, combined with their own bravery,
enables them to maintain a sort of quasi independence. They are free
from the conscription, have a governor, or Caimakam, chosen from among
themselves, and their taxes are little more than nominal. The Druses of
the Lebanon come under the special statute relating to the government of
that province, and as this is subject to the supervision of the six
European treaty powers, their position is secured, and they have no
cause of grievance, though they are in close contact with their
neighbours, the Maronites, with whom they live on terms of considerable
tension. The Druses of Galilee differ in position from the other two
sections of the nation, in that they enjoy no privileges of any kind,
but are, on the contrary, less fortunately placed in their relations to
the government than either Moslems or Christians, the former being
naturally, to a certain extent, favored by their government, and the
latter being always able, in case of a grievance, to appeal to some
Christian European power. These Druses are, however, absolutely without
protection of any kind, and have many grievances unredressed, and many
acts of hostility on the part of the peasantry of other religions, among
whom they live, to struggle against. The only consolation they enjoy is
the support and comfort they derive from the close tribal family
connection which they keep up with the other two more fortunate branches
of the nation. It is easy to perceive, therefore, why they should attach
great value to these religious gatherings, and utilize them for secular
purposes. There can be no doubt that the character of their religion,
with the secrecy which surrounds it, enables them to organize in a
special manner, and that the theocratic element which enters into their
political constitution gives them a cohesion, a unity, and a power for
combined action which the Christian sects, with their jealousies,
bigotry, and internal dissensions, do not enjoy.