Chapter III: Researches in Galilee (2)

The Druze race inhabiting Hermon, and now existing in great numbers in the Hauran, to which some of the chief families have migrated from the Lebanon since the establishment of Christian rule in that province, represents one of the finest elements of population in Syria.

Tall, stalwart men, and women with features more delicate than any of the Arab or Fellahah females, seem to belong to a Persian rather than a Semitic race, although the language of their literature and of daily life is Arabic.[44] It is not hard to become acquainted with Druzes of every class, but to penetrate beneath the surface which they present to those of other creeds is far more difficult, and our knowledge of their creed is derived, not from any communications made by themselves, but from the capture of their sacred books; although even these probably only reveal the outer aspect of their belief, with one exception.

The Druzes have long been regarded with great interest in Europe, their bravery and ability having won for them a well-deserved fame. To me they were the most interesting people in Syria next to the Samaritans, and what I observed of the manners of their leaders (under very favourable circumstances in 1873 and 1882) fully agreed with the expectations raised by what I had read. But, on the other hand, a sort of mystery has been conceived by some enthusiasts to surround them, which disappears when the student compares them with other historic sects. They have been represented as if they were Oriental disciples of Mde. Blavatsky, or mystics claiming secrets of a supernatural nature. Those who know them well and have been long familiar with them hold a very different opinion, and regard them as a very practical and politic people, who may yet play a part in the history of the Levant, and who, but for their dissensions, would have become the dominant power in Syria, instead of the Turks. I have had more than one Druze servant, but they do not prove satisfactory in that character, being very independent and averse to regular habits. Their religion allows them to acquiesce in the creed of the dominant people, wherever they may be; thus to a Christian they present the Christian aspect of their system, and their Moslem beliefs to a Moslem. It seems, however, established that they have no rites, ceremonies, or prayers of their own, and that the gatherings in their remote chapels or _khalwehs_ are mainly for political and social purposes.

The accounts of the beauty of their horses, the richness of their dress, the silver ornaments of saddles, bridles, swords, and guns, I did not find to be exaggerated; but the curious horned head-dress, worn under the veil by the women till quite recent times, I have never seen in use, though such a horn, made of silver filagree-work, was once shown to me. It is a curious and interesting fact that this head-dress was also worn by tribes in Central Asia, on the Oxus, near the Caspian; and this indication agrees with others to be mentioned shortly in indicating that the original Druzes were probably emigrants from Persia, or from some region perhaps farther east.

The Druzes are perhaps best described as Moslem Gnostics, and the best key to their rambling and concrete dogmas is found in a study of Gnostic systems. They are schismatics, whose chief distinguishing tenet is a belief that the mad Khalif Hakem, in the eleventh century, was the final incarnation of the power of God. The appearance of this heresy in Egypt was due to the fact that the Fatemite Khalifs in that country were of the Ismailiyeh sect, which was of Persian origin. Other sects of similar character were independently established in Syria (the Metâwileh, the Anseiriyeh, and the Ismailiyeh), among which the Druzes probably gained many recruits.

When the Moslems conquered the Persian dominions, they came in contact with several religions and with numerous philosophies. The Zoroastrian established faith, the Christianity of Nestorians and Sabians, the Judaism of the great Chaldean schools, were firmly rooted in the land; and in addition to these the Manichean system, which was, in fact, a combination of the preceding with Buddhist scepticism, had spread on all sides, even as far as Turkestan. Moslem mystic and philosophic sects very quickly developed under these influences, and the Sufis represent the adoption of Buddhist ideas by professing Moslems.

The philosophic sects held the opinion--which is also a Buddhist view--that the religion of the masses can never be the same as that of leading minds. The Ismailiyeh and other Moslem societies put this belief into practice, teaching to their disciples a series of dogmas in which they had no personal belief. Thus, while they professed to explain a series of incarnations of the Natek and the Asas, who were in the future to appear on earth as Ismail and Muhammad, in secret initiation they taught the more advanced student to discard all belief in either Korân, or Gospel, or incarnation, and to believe only in two natures (“the uprising one” and “the abode”), which together were, they said, the only realities in the universe. This doctrine is closely similar to that of the Syrian and Persian Gnostics, and to the final initiation of Eleusinian and other mysteries, as we learn from many detailed accounts. This simple basis enables us to thread the labyrinth of absurd allegories which the various sects wove round their concealed disbelief. These were, as a rule, politic dogmas, framed to bring into the organisation men from every existing creed, and apparently to reconcile systems which, in the eyes of the initiated, were all equally untrue.

The dogmas generally cited as tenets of the Druze religion are those taught to the lowest and uninitiated class. They are known through the seizure of sacred books by the Maronites in 1837, during Ibrahim Pasha’s wars, and again by the French in 1860. The great Orientalist De Sacy at the earlier period was able to study at leisure the manuscripts in the National Library at Paris, and Dr. Wortabet added to his results after 1860.

There is no reason here to give the details of this fantastic system. The Druze doctrines as to Christ, like those in the Korân, are clearly of Gnostic origin. Their teaching of a paradise for the pious dead in China, whence also Hakem is to return at the last day, and their dogma of transmigration of souls, were no doubt learned from Bactrian Buddhists or from Manicheans. We have already seen that more than one link connects them with the Manichean and Buddhist Mongols of Turkestan, though in appearance they approach nearer to Persians and Parsees. They have celibates among them, and hermits who retire to distant _khalwehs_, sleeping on mats, with pillows of stone, eating dry bread, and dressed in wool, with a girdle like that of monks or of the Dervish orders; but they are also commonly said to celebrate annual orgies, like those of Gnostics, of Greek pagans, or of the Sakti sects in India. They have secret emblems whereby they recognise each other, one of which is the fig, which was also a Manichean emblem, according to Cyril of Jerusalem. By none of these tenets or customs are they very clearly distinguished from Anseiriyeh or Ismailiyeh heretics, the divinity of Hakem being their true point of schism.

There is, however, in existence a work, said to be that of Hamza, the original Druze teacher, which admits us within the veil of initiation. It is called the “Hidden Destruction,” and it abolishes both Tawil and Tenzil, or open and secret dogma as to the Korân. It reduces the Moslem prayer--the Fetwa--to a cabalistic myth of planets and zodiac. It abolishes prayer, sacrifice, tithes, fasting, pilgrimage, the holy war, and even submission; and for these seven cardinal doctrines of Islam it substitutes seven new laws, which represent truth according to Druze philosophy.

1st, The confession of truth, save when such confession may
endanger the safety of the initiate, when silence is allowed. Thus,
too, the Buddhist is taught not to interfere with the common
beliefs of other men.

2d, The duty of mutual help and assistance.

3d, The concealed renunciation of every form of creed or dogma.

4th, A separation from those who live in error.

5th, The unity of “the Power” in all ages.

6th, Contentment with His will.

7th, Resignation to inevitable fate.

This then, I believe, is the true system of Druze initiation. The fantastic dogmas are but the husk of which this is the kernel. There is no real mysticism in the system, but simply a concealed scepticism which renounces even the most negative of religions--that of Muhammad. The inquirer who expects to discover a secret supernaturalism among these philosophers deceives himself, and would by them be regarded with contempt.

In the present chapter we have thus had occasion to refer to four developments of Moslem religion existing in Syria side by side with the Sunnee faith (the Metâwileh, the Ismailiyeh, the Anseiriyeh, and the Druze), and I may perhaps be pardoned a few words in addition on a question which of late has excited interest in England, namely, the comparative vitality of Christian and Moslem religion in lands where both exist together.

On this matter the views of the tourist visitor, however well stored his mind may be with knowledge obtained from books, have little permanent value. Nor will conversations, carried on by aid of a dragoman, with respectable Moslem doctors, or with peasants, really enable the new-comer to form a true opinion. Islam is not what it appears to be to the stranger, and Moslems do not, and indeed cannot, give to such a visitor a comprehensive view of their creed. It is necessary to live for many years in a Moslem country, and in daily contact with Moslems of all classes, in order really to know what they and their religion are like; and such contact will not lead the impartial observer to form a very high estimate of the practical results of Moslem teaching.

In the first place, Islam can only be regarded as a general term, like Christendom. There are in Islam as many antagonisms, as much indifference and disbelief, as many sects mutually hateful, as much discord and contention over abstract dogmas, as are to be found in the West. A general reconciliation and union is as impossible in the one case as in the other. But if we are to judge Christianity and Islam by their declared moral standards, Islam must stand second. It is, moreover, the most negative of faiths, distinguished by what it denies, not by what it maintains. The enthusiasm for Moslem religion which some writers express is but the natural reaction from that ignorant prejudice against the “wickedness of the false prophet” which used to mark our entire want of knowledge of Moslem belief; but this enthusiasm is also the result of imperfect knowledge, and it dies off as the student of Moslem life becomes more intimate with actual society in the East.

It is true that Islam spreads with rapid strides in countries where the Arabs are strong and where Christian teachers are weak. The conquered are forced to adopt the creed of the conqueror, but the conversion is not superior to the orthodoxy of Spain under the Inquisition; and the propaganda is the same as that of the persecuting days of mediæval Christianity. It is surely no mark of advanced religious culture that uniformity should be due to terror of the sword.

Islam does (as far as I have been able to observe) absolutely nothing for the education and raising up of the ignorant and of the poor. The religion of the so-called Moslem peasant is the paganism of the days before Islam was preached. He swears by Muhammad, but his real gods are the buried saints, whose power to punish him by misfortune he dreads. He lives in fear of the Jân, of the Ghouls, of the Kerâd or “goblins;” he prays to the holy tree; he believes in magic and in witches. No attempt is made to educate him. He cannot read or write; he has no doctor save the charitable European who may chance to pass by. So long as he proclaims his belief in God and the Prophet, no one troubles himself as to his fate. The dark places are full of cruelty, and the morality of the peasant is generally not better than that of the African savage.[45] The visitor, charmed by the natural dignity and courtesy of Oriental manners, does not see more than the surface, and it is not till one incident after another reveals the truth, that it can be recognised that Islam has done nothing to raise the poor. In the cities usually visited the traveller finds mosques filled with decent congregations. In the villages there are no mosques at all. Many peasants cannot repeat the simple Moslem prayer. They can do nothing more than light a lamp to the _Nebi_ when child or husband are sick. They dwell in an imaginary atmosphere of marvels, like that in which the Zulu or the Hindu peasant passes a lifetime of superstitious fear. We have nothing like it, save perhaps as a survival in the wilder mountain districts of Britain, where witches are still feared. The pious doctors and fanatic Imams of Islam have done nothing to compare to the home-missions of England. This is not only the case in Syria; it applies equally to the whole Moslem world.

Among the upper class, too, there are many differences of belief and of life. The mosque students and doctors represent, as a rule, orthodoxy of the most conservative type. Yet even among these some survival of the philosophy of the early Baghdad schools may exist, some tinge of the influence of Plato and of Aristotle, which led captive for a while the intellect of Islam. Among these, again, the passionate mysticism of the Sufis represents an emotional condition not unknown in the West. The Sufi gives up the riddle of existence to seek the final union with God, which is the aim of his life. But side by side with these are men professing Islam, yet breaking its laws, soldiers and diplomatists who have seen the world unknown to the dweller in mosques or to the literary professor; men also who drink wine and who neglect prayer; other men who take bribes and grind the faces of the poor; pitiful ambitions gained by crooked means; white turbans covering hypocrisy, and successful humbugs decked with stars.

There is, however, one phase of Moslem life which has no exact counterpart in the West--a power which is often unsuspected but very great, namely, that of the Dervish orders. The visitor who sees the miserable mendicant in the street, who hears the frantic howls of those performing the _zikr_, or watches the stately dance of the Mawlawîyeh, little suspects the power which underlies these outward appearances, and little understands the reason for that reverence which is shown, even by Turkish officials, for the Dervish beggar. Miserable and ignorant as is the fanatic who thrusts a sword through his arm, or devours scorpions, charms snakes, treads on the sick babe laid before him, or bathes in charcoal embers, he yet belongs to a wide-spread secret organisation, and has sworn away his private judgment and liberty of action, devoting himself to fulfil the will of one man, the distant head of his order. A letter from such a chief will secure the active help of innumerable associates scattered far and wide, in Turkey, in Egypt, and yet farther afield. The power which Gnostics, Assassins, Templars, and other secret orders used to wield is still wielded in a certain measure by the Dervish leaders: we have only a faint reflex of such a system among Masons. Yet it cannot be said that the Dervish orders have done much for Islam: rather have they served to secure the aims and ambitions of chiefs who, regarded by their ignorant followers as possessed of marvellous powers, are yet perhaps in reality as sceptical as the Druze initiates. By pretensions to spiritual knowledge and power they attract the poor candidate who stands naked at the door begging for admission to the order. By jugglery and sensational acts they captivate the imagination of the mob. But they are careful only to admit to their real counsels those of whose intelligence and trustworthiness they have had long experience. The Dervishes may lead the populace in religious war, but chiefly when certain very practical aims are seen by their leaders to be thereby attainable.

Such considerations, though they have led us far away from Galilee, will perhaps be allowed as the results of practical acquaintance with Islam, gained by six years of life in Moslem lands, and may be useful in face of the somewhat superficial estimates of Moslem religious life which so often appear before the public as the results of a trip to the more frequented towns of the Levant and the talk of dragomans and renegade Turks. I know only one point in which Islam has real advantage over Christianity, namely, in its direct condemnation of drink. Even Islam is unable entirely to stamp out this curse; but when we contrast the sobriety of Palestine with the drink traffic forced on natives of South Africa by an English-speaking race, whose Government draws a revenue from the excise, we find that there is one great lesson to be learned in the East, and one great evil which the voice of Muhammad has always proclaimed as such. In all other respects--the position of women, the condition of education among the poor, the sympathy of the upper class with the ignorant, the love of truth, and of freedom, and of justice--the lands where Islam is established can never be compared with those where Christianity is purest.

These reflections have been raised by the remembrance of days spent in crossing over Hermon, from Banias to Hasbeya, on the road to Damascus, or in the investigation of the ruined towns and temples on the mountain, or in toiling to the summit, 9200 feet above the sea, where the Survey party once spent the night, and took observations of the stars for latitude. It is one of the wildest and most picturesque parts of Syria. The lower slopes are of the sandstone which underlies the Lebanon and appears on the Moab hills. Above is the hard fossiliferous limestone, which is a base-bed in Western Palestine. Near the Druze villages great cascades of bright green foliage deck the mountain slopes, where the vineyards, already famous in Hebrew times, run terrace above terrace. Clumps of pines, low thickets of oak and mastic, and hedges of wild rose rise towards the snowy dome, where the Syrian bears are hiding, and whence sometimes they venture down to eat the grapes. The costumes of the Druzes, the white veils, through which one eye only of the Druze damsels is seen, and the brightly-coloured dress of the men, are equally picturesque; as are, too, the solitary _khalwehs_ or meeting-places perched on cliffs remote from other habitations.

The scenery round Banias is also of remarkable beauty. It is well known to tourists, who generally visit it at its best. Here by the Mound of Dan is the fine clump of oaks, a familiar resting-place, near which is the tomb of Sheikh Merzûk, who is said to have been a dog. To the west the path crosses four rushing brooks, which join the cascades of Banias to form the Jordan, breaking over stony channels in a plain strewn everywhere with blocks of black basalt, covered at times with orange-coloured lichens.

It was here that I discovered a group of dolmens in 1882, which had previously been overlooked amid the many natural boulders, and which are no doubt connected with the old worship of the region. Farther east the town itself still preserves its great Norman wall in parts, and the rush of the Jordan, shooting down in a foaming torrent between thickets of low shrubs, with forest trees in groups here and there, and a few poplars, is that of an Alpine river rather than of a Syrian stream. High up on the east the ruins of the great castle, which was the bulwark of Christendom against Damascus, cover a long spur on the side of Hermon. The great cave of Pan, whence Banias takes its name, has now fallen in, so that the full effect, which probably was to be remarked when Josephus wrote, is lost; for the sudden bursting of the river out of the cavern must have been very striking. A little Moslem chapel is built on the debris, and dedicated naturally to El Khudr, the mysterious “green one,” who drank the water of life, and who represents the vivifying power of moisture in Moslem folk-lore. On the rocks, still half legible, are the Greek inscriptions of the days of Agrippa, one dedicating an altar to the nymphs, another recording the name of Agrippa as archon of the year, a third speaking of the priest of the god Pan. The name of Pan at this place is perhaps older than the Greek age, and of Canaanite origin, since the word as a Turanian term, meaning a “spirit,” is found in many languages of the group to which the Hittite tongue belonged. Looking southwards over the flat Jordan plain, you see the marshy Huleh lake shining amid its papyrus swamps. On the east are the fantastic cones of the Jaulan volcanoes, on the west the bushy range of Naphtali, on the north the rugged ridges of Hermon. The black camps of the Arabs are dotted over the plain, their brown cattle wander beside the streams, and the women in dark flowing robes are churning butter in goatskin bags beside the “houses of hair.”

Hermon appears in all ages to have been a sacred mountain and a religious centre. The name is thought by some to mean a “sanctuary,” but by Gesenius to mean a “mountain spur.” The old Amorite name was Shenir, of uncertain meaning, and the Sidonians called it Sirion, which is probably a Turanian word meaning “white” or “snowy.” Long after the calves of Dan had been overthrown, and before the calf became an emblem in the Druze _khalwehs_ on the same mountain, the Romans covered its slopes with little temples. These have been, for the most part, visited and described. Sir Charles Warren made careful plans of the best-preserved examples, and nearly all of them I have explored on different occasions. At Rukhleh, on the north-west slope, there are remains of such a temple, which has been pulled to pieces apparently to make a church. The Roman eagle, which one traveller in his enthusiasm has called Hittite, is here carved in bold relief, as also at Baalbek, and in the curious temples of the Anseireh mountains; and a great head of the sun-god is sculptured on another stone. Here, too, occur Greek inscriptions; one recording the adorning of the temple gates with silver, another mentioning the Epiarch of Abila. Farther north, at Abila itself, the ground is strewn with Greek funerary texts, and the rocks burrowed with tombs, one of which has rude busts in low relief over the entrance, such as we also found over Roman tombs in Gilead.

On the top of the mountain itself there are some very curious remains. A sort of peak has here been surrounded by an oval of cut stones carefully laid, within which we found a quantity of ashes, apparently belonging to some beacon or sacrificial fire once lighted on the spot. Close to this circle is a cave hewn in the rock, measuring fifteen feet by twenty-four, with a roof supported by a rocky pillar. Three steps lead down into the cave, and the rock above has been levelled, perhaps as the floor of a building. There is no historic account of the object with which this curious cave was cut high up on the snowy summit, remote from all inhabited spots. The Druze hermits are said to retire to Hermon, but their place of retreat was shown to me farther down the side of the mountain. The names of Antar and Nimrod are connected with various buildings on Hermon, and the remains on the top are called “Castle of the Youths” by the shepherds. It is said that a Greek inscription lies near the circle round the highest peak. This I was unable to discover. The rock of the peak has been cut so as to form a sunken trench with a round shaft--perhaps for water--beside it. The object of these cuttings is, however, obscure.

By passing the night on the summit, I was able to witness two of the most interesting scenes imaginable--the sunrise over the plains of Damascus and the sunset in the sea. These I have fully described in another work, but, as there is no other point from which such a general view of Palestine can be gained, I may be allowed to repeat in part what I saw. We ascended the mountain on the 9th of September, at which time it was quite free from snow. Indeed, we could not even find snow to melt for cooking, and had thus great difficulty in getting water.

Beneath us, apparently quite near, lay the calm Sea of Galilee, showing a light green among its dusky cliffs. Tabor and the Horns of Hattin appeared to the right, and the chain of the Safed mountains as far as the Ladder of Tyre. The gorge of the Litany River was clear, with Belfort on its northern slope, and Tyre itself with its harbours. Carmel formed the extreme distance on this side, about eighty miles away.

On the east the Syrian desert stretched unbroken towards the Euphrates, and the white houses and minarets of Damascus were set in a deep border of green from the surrounding gardens. Farther to the south-east, as on a map, we looked down into the craters of the Jaulan volcanoes, which seemed no larger than the hollow cones of the ant-bear. Over the great brown Bashan plains, so full of ruined Roman cities, of endless Greek inscriptions, of Nabathean texts scrawled on the rocks, and of dolmen groups yet older, we saw the great columns of the whirlwinds slowly stalking in the autumn heat. The Druze villages were at our feet, and a green valley with a gleaming stream.

On the west the long ridges of the Southern Lebanon reached out to the great level of the Mediterranean, with dark shadows in the deep ravines. On the north is Sannin, with its cedar clumps, and grey rocky walls, and valleys fringed with pines. The glorious flush of the Eastern sunset bathed all this scene for a few moments, and then, while still in sunshine ourselves, the steel-blue shadow crept over all the lower world. The great conical shadow of Hermon crept out eastwards and swallowed up Damascus, and stretching yet farther for seventy miles over the desert, stood out against the thick haze on the sky itself.

When the dawn rose, we again stood on the peak, where perhaps the old sun-worshippers used to await the great orb, which here rises from the desert horizon. Often in other places have I seen the first white streak and the glory of the aurora behind mountain ranges; but here, as the red globe appears in the mists over a boundless plain, the great shadow of Hermon stretches far across the dim Mediterranean--a sight not often seen by those who watch the dawn. Wherever a single peak stands out alone, such a shadow may be seen from the summit. In Teneriffe it stretches over the Atlantic, and the watchers on other mountains have seen it; but in Palestine there is nowhere else such a sight or so glorious a panorama, because nowhere else does a solitary mountain stand up twice the height of the surrounding hills. The great peak of Monte Viso, rising above the Italian snowy ranges, has a finer outline, but Hermon is unlike any mountain with which I am acquainted. It appears as the centre of every view in northern Palestine, and its snowy dome is seen from the plains near Jaffa, and from the valley of Jericho; while on the north its outline is equally impressive from the plains of Cœle-Syria, or from the heights of Lebanon. It is this scone which rises in the mind of Hebrew poets in many ages, and which inspires the Song of Songs: “Look from the top of Amana, from the top of Shenir, even Hermon, from the lions’ dens, and from the mountains of the leopards.”

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