"What these rites [i.e. of the Samaritans] are, I could not certainly learn, but that their religion consists in the adoration of a calf, as the Jews give out, seems to have more of spite than of truth in it."—Henry Maundrell, 1697

We rose early next morning, in order to view the sights of Nabl?s, and returned in a couple of hours, in entire sympathy with the desire of the Jews to have no dealings with the Samaritans—not that we found the Jews themselves particularly attractive, for they are here of that type of feature, so rarely seen in the East, which we habitually associate with a Cockney accent.

The town lies in a long, narrow streak between Ebal and Gerizim, the sole pass in the central mountain range of Palestine, the farthest north of the line of cities—Shechem, Shiloh, Bethel, Bethlehem, Jerusalem, and Hebron—long commercially important, and, from the abundance of water and surrounding fertility, capable of becoming what it perhaps once was—a really beautiful city. It contains the ruins of many {195} churches, now all converted into mosques; one, known as the Great Mosque, having been originally built by Justinian, and restored in 1167 by the canons of the Holy Sepulchre of Jerusalem, with much resemblance to their own church. Another mosque of interest, probably originally a hospital of the Templars, is now devoted to the lepers, who here present a miserable spectacle, practically uncared for, in striking contrast to all that is done for them in Jerusalem, where there are two lepers' homes—one supported by the Government, and nursed by the S?urs de Charité; the other, and larger, by the German Moravians.

From the aspect of the Jewish and Samaritan inhabitants one may gather that the soap produced in fifteen factories is mainly an article of export. The Moslem population, which amounts to over 20,000, is more prosperous in appearance; and, indeed, Nabl?s is a somewhat thriving centre of trade in wool and cotton. There are about 700 Christians, mainly of the Greek Church. The Franciscans, as well as the Jerusalem patriarchate, have churches and schools; and there is a small Protestant community, now in the hands of the C.M.S., originally founded, on very different lines, by Bowen, afterwards Bishop {196} of Sierra Leone, who was a practical philanthropist and who established looms, gave technical instruction in various arts, instilled cleanliness and sanitation, and taught his flock to earn an honest living; after which, by degrees, and having spent himself and his substance, he gave them religious instruction. The Moslems have a girls' school and college, and several elementary schools.

We picked our way to the Jewish quarter through heaps of decaying vegetable matter and along roofed passages, dark as a cellar, and where only in the middle could one walk upright, into the Samaritan settlement, which was decidedly cleaner and more airy, but where the inhabitants, spoilt by the tourists, were clamorous for backsheesh. At every step we were tormented by would-be vendors of antiques, mainly cufic coins, the very school children bringing torn pages from their copy-books for sale to the Frenjy who were known, by experience, to be ready to buy, irrespective of the value of the articles of commerce. As a matter of fact, we did buy, from a member of the high priest's family, an Arabic seal, a silver medal of some Roman Catholic community, and some models of the rolls of the Law ingeniously made out of kerosene tins! What Palestine did before Russia and Asia Minor {197} sent her kerosene in cubical tins, known as "gas-boxes," it is difficult to imagine—not on account of the "gas," which is, however, cheap and good, but on account of the tins, which are, in their natural state, the water-cans, flower-boxes, general receptacles, and even wine and spirit barrels, for every household. With slight additions and a little manipulation they become garden watering-pans, dust-pans, sieves, culinary vessels of various kinds, lamps, lamp-shades, reflectors, stoves, baths, musical instruments, spoons, forks, and brush handles. They serve the errand-boys for baskets, and the children for toys; they supply material for buildings, from a dog-kennel or stable up to an entire suburb of Jerusalem, known as the Box Colony—the houses, constructed out of miscellaneous materials, being entirely faced with "gas-tins"; they are raw material for the tinsmith, the gunsmith, and, in some degree, for the leather trade, as we found traces of them in our harness. And here, in Nabl?s, they turned up afresh, effectively modelled into the likeness of some of the oldest bookbinding in the world.

We found ourselves, finally, in a small square or court inhabited by the Samaritan community, where climbing a few stairs, we reached a sort of balcony, in which a score of children were {198} receiving instruction, their feet tucked up in front of them, their shoes piled together in the doorway. We followed two good-looking young men into a small, whitewashed room, the floor of which was covered with matting, and which contained, for all furniture, a sort of reading-stand, upon which were placed, for our inspection, the scrolls of the Law. Of course, we did not see the famous Samaritan Codex—who does?—but that exhibited was of sufficiently venerable appearance to appeal to our imagination, and, in a certain sense, to our reverence. It was soiled and worn, in the part exposed, from the frequent handling and kissing of many generations; and the elaborate, gilt cylinders, so often portrayed, might be, for all we knew, of considerable antiquity, although Sir George Grove, who described then nearly fifty years ago, concluded, after careful and expert examination, that the oldest could not claim to be earlier that the fifteenth century. Even had we been privileged to see the celebrated Codex itself we should not have believed that it was written by Abisha, the son of Phinehas, nor even—the alternative tradition—by Manasseh, the high priest in the time of Ezra. The Samaritans keep all the Jewish festivals, but sacrifice only at the Passover. They ignore all the traditional literature, {199} and teach only the Pentateuch, and, according to many travellers' tales, and even a popular guide-book, the "Book of Joshua," which, however, is not a sacred volume but a medi?val MS., written in Arabic, with proper names in Samaritan, and describing the adventures of their race from Moses to Alexander. This, with a few prayers and hymns, constitutes all their literature.

No one can feel indifferent to this little community, "sent to Coventry" some two thousand five hundred years ago, when the Jews refused to allow them to share in the rebuilding of the Temple on the ground that they were mere colonists, destitute of genealogy, and that no one knew who they were, or where they came from. No wonder that the Samaritans, under the circumstances, should have set up rival Holy Places, like the Greeks and Latins, respectively, in Jerusalem to-day. Here they are still, however, on the same spot; while the Jews, who despised them as a mushroom population, are wanderers over the face of the earth. They are said to be decreasing in numbers, and amount now to only about one hundred and sixty. Benjamin of Tudela estimated them in the twelfth century as only one hundred in Nabl?s; but in those days they had adherents in Ascalon, C?sarea, and Damascus—amounting {200} to one thousand in all. Now, this is their only settlement; the little, whitewashed synagogue the sole outward and visible sign of their race, their faith, and even their dialect, for in the ordinary affairs of life they use Arabic.

The office of high priest is hereditary in the tribe of Levi, and it is interesting to note that he holds, in addition, the secular dignity of president of the community, and is, moreover, one of the district authorities. Jerusalem has some personal acquaintance with his son and heir-apparent, who makes occasional visits to the Holy City for various purposes, including the sale of manuscripts, not, perhaps, quite convincing as to their antiquity or value; but the scion of a high priest must live, even if the methods should bring him occasionally within the arm of the Law. The official stipend is derived from tithes paid by the faithful, who, unfortunately, have little to tithe.

Their festivals have been often described; and the Samaritan Passover has become a commonplace of tourists, though, happily, there are still some to whom the slaughter and disembowelling of half-a-dozen poor little lambs, which have been tamed and kept as domestic pets, is not a pleasing {201} sight at close quarters. One feels especially thankful for the Gospel dispensation on reading in the twentieth century such details as the following:—"Whilst the six lambs were thus lying together, with their blood streaming from them, and in their last convulsive struggles, the young shochetim (five lads, who acted as butchers) dipped their fingers in the blood, and marked a spot on the foreheads and noses of the children. The same was done to some of the females."

Importunate Jews and Samaritans followed us back to the convent, their numbers increased by inquisitive Moslems coming to see the Frenjys fleeced, and a few especially impudent girls, who demanded backsheesh on the ground that they "sat down in the English school." We speedily convinced the entire crowd that we were not tourists, much to the satisfaction of the officers of the convent, who suffer much from the visitors of their guests.

"Baedeker" was on business, and we were obliged to postpone, to some future occasion, several visits we would have gladly paid; above all, the ascent of Mount Ebal, whence one has a view practically over the whole of Palestine—a country, be it remembered, however, containing no more square miles than that of Wales. {202} Gerizim is, historically, the more famous of the two, and that most frequented, as by far the easier climb; but a view from Carmel to Jaffa, from the Mediterranean to the mountains of Moab, would have been to some of us more suggestive, and of deeper significance, than the Moslem wely alleged to contain the skull of St John the Baptist, or even the church, possibly of the Justinian period, which may be on the site of the Temple of Gerizim destroyed by Hyrcanus, rival to that at Jerusalem. At Jacob's Well also we would have willingly lingered, grateful to Professor G. A. Smith for leaving us still in possession of the traditional site, which he maintains against many opponents. ("Historical Geography," xviii.) Another site offered for consideration, as that where Abraham prepared for the sacrifice of Isaac, we summarily condemned without trial. Some of us had ridden to Beersheba, which we knew to be a good sixteen hours' ride south of Jerusalem, Nabl?s being equally a good twelve hours' north, and we failed to understand how an old man and a boy, with an ass heavily burdened, could have made the journey on foot in a period of less than three days! The acoustical properties of the valley between the two mountains need astonish no {203} one who has seen the position, or indeed many other places in Palestine, where the nature of the limestone formation, the innumerable caves, and the intense clearness of the atmosphere, carry sound to inconceivable distances, and many times we have carried on conversation with persons visible only as a distant speck. On one occasion the Lady, who had left the Artist sketching on some rising ground, and had herself crossed a valley, and climbed a Tell beyond, mindful, though somewhat incredulous, of traditions on the subject, addressed her friend, whose whereabouts she knew, but who otherwise was too distant to be easily visible. To her intense surprise she was promptly answered, and the two were able to carry on conversation without even raising the voice.

We were soon on our way north, anxious to have time to visit Sebaste, the city of Samaria, on our way to Jenin, our next halting-place for the night. The scenery of this district, if pleasing, is as unexciting as the county of Yorkshire. There are bare spaces, rocky and sterile, sloping down into fertile plains. There are pleasant fields and fruitful gardens, and we gathered our first anemones of the season, scarlet and purple and white, and noted that the mandrakes were {204} coming into bloom—rich, compact masses of violet in their crumpled, primrose-like leaves. Here and there were trickling rills, which, although the season was dry and the early rains had been a disappointment, had enough life left in them to produce bright ribbons of verdure across the plains, which opened out amid detached hills to right and left. Not only the familiar olive-trees scattered over wide tracts of land, but oaks and carobs, and even gardens of fruit-trees—apricots, pears, apples—give to the scenery a homelike air, which to our eyes, long used to the sepias and vandyke-browns of Jud?a, was reposeful and refreshing.

We were able to appreciate the observation of Professor G. A. Smith (op. cit. Chap. xvi.), that Samaria is the scene of all the long drives of Old Testament history—a fact due to the openness of the country, and the possibility of practicable roads passing among, rather than over, the mountains. It was here that Ahab raced the rain-storm coming up from the Mediterranean—well do we know the tearing, raging "latter rains" of Palestine; here that Jehu drove furiously; here that Naaman came with his horses and with his chariot to visit Elisha; here that Jehu gave a lift to Jehonadab, {205} the son of Rechab; here that Ahab, who had at least the virtue of courage, was propped up to lead the battle while his life-blood streamed into the midst of his chariot, to be licked by the dogs when it was washed in the pool at Sebaste, whither we were hastening in the morning sunshine.

We passed through two or three villages, each with its gardens and springs, and noted the beauty of the women—a rare sight here, where a woman is a grandmother before thirty and a withered hag at thirty-five. They are more graceful, more shapely of limb, with better-set heads than in Jud?a, where a woman's comeliness ............