CHAPTER XI

MY TRIP TO THE HOLY LAND

All through the winter of 1913-14, though busily engaged in mastering my other duties as Ambassador, there were constantly two problems interesting me.

The first was the American missionary activities, whose ramifications reached into all parts of Turkey, and whose many and varied requests, though intelligently interpreted by Dr. W. W. Peet, I could not fully grasp, owing to the meagreness of my knowledge of the men and women concerned, and of the physical conditions surrounding them in their activities in the interior of Turkey. I was at the seat of government of all these missionary activities, and had become well acquainted with the directing forces. Doctor Peet had shown me his vast records, and had acquainted me with the many branches, and told me of the many representatives that they had scattered throughout Turkey. Occasionally, visits from some of the interior missionaries had impressed me so favourably both as to their sincerity and sympathy for their flocks, that I became thoroughly aroused with a desire to see the entire mechanism of the missionary activities in Turkey. I personally wanted to know the administrative and educational forces, and visit the buildings and surroundings in which they were operating, so that I might be able properly to present their claims to the Turkish officials, and finally give an intelligent account to those of my friends in America who had so anxiously impressed upon me the deep interest felt by such a vast number of them in the welfare of the missionaries.

My second problem was the Jewish question, which I will discuss in a separate chapter. Naturally I concluded to visit first the Holy Land and the Mediterranean Coast of Asia, where so many of the important Christian missions were located. When I spoke to different people concerning this trip, everyone urged me to go. The Turkish authorities felt that it would greatly benefit them if I could, with my own eyes, see the possibilities of an industrial and agricultural revival of Turkey, for, thereafter, I might be useful to them in influencing foreign capital to invest in their prospects. The missionaries were enthusiastic. They expected--and I afterward ascertained were justified in this--that a visit to their main stations by the American Ambassador would so impress the local authorities both at those places and at Constantinople that their standing with, and their treatment by, the Turkish officials would be greatly improved. My Jewish friends, similarly, felt that such a tangible evidence of American and my personal interest in their condition would greatly benefit them with the authorities. The men in the Embassy who now realized how easily an “outsider” could master the knowledge that lay buried in the records of the Chancery also encouraged my scheme to delve further into the outside ramifications of American activity in Turkey.

The best and most direct transportation to Palestine was supplied by the splendid Russian steamship lines that were then plying weekly between Odessa and Alexandria, and as these boats stopped for a day at Smyrna, and another day at Piræus, I should thereby be enabled to visit the Consul and the American College at Smyrna, and to view the interesting sights of Athens. I therefore chose this route.

As the journey was made for the purpose of studying two distinct problems, I think it well to describe in this chapter all the things that are of general interest, reserving for a later chapter the highly specialized Jewish question as I saw and studied it in Palestine. I shall not weary the reader with a complete record of the journey, but shall select for him some interesting incidents and observations without following too closely their chronological order.

Of these, one of the most interesting (and one that involved several amusing complications) was my visit to the Caves of Machpelah. When Doctor Peet heard of my plans to visit Palestine, he came to see me and spent a long time in informing me of what I could see, and of the tremendous benefit that it would be to me and to the missionaries to become personally acquainted. This was a helpful service, and I gratefully made notes of his suggestions. When these were finished, I was somewhat puzzled when he launched into a long dissertation upon the unique advantage which I, as an ambassador, enjoyed in being able to secure permission to visit the Caves of Machpelah. He explained that these caves were the authentic graves of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, of Sarah, Leah, and Rebecca. He added the curious information that the Moslems regarded these patriarchs as among the holiest of the saints of Islam. And so jealous were they in their religious veneration of these tombs that, by an extraordinary paradox, they have for one thousand years prohibited not only the Christians, but the blood descendants of Abraham, the Jews, from visiting these tombs. The Moslems had erected a mosque over them, and they were guarded day and night. The only exception to the rule that none but Mohammedans might visit them was that the privilege was extended to visiting princes of royal blood, and to ambassadors, who represented, not nations, but the persons of their sovereigns. Doctor Peet then enlarged again upon the extraordinary opportunity which this privilege gave me of enjoying a unique experience.

Light had now dawned upon me, and I asked Doctor Peet a question which I intentionally drew out into a long sentence, so as to study the effect upon him. I asked him whether my inference that this great interest which he displayed in my trip and the importance which he attached to the opportunities incident to my travelling not as a private citizen, but as an ambassador, could be construed by me as a hint on his part of a lurking wish that he might accompany me.

Doctor Peet was usually so serious that I did not know how he would respond. He answered me quite earnestly: “Well, really, that was my object in telling you all about it.” I told him I fully realized how valuable his company would be, especially in arranging my meetings with the missionaries, and I most cordially invited him to come with me. A few days later, Peet called again, and said to me: “You know, I have been thinking a great deal about our trip. I shall be able to render the assistance you expect of me in Palestine; but when you visit Syria and Galilee, you ought to have with you Dr. Franklin Hoskins of Beirut, who is a great Arabic scholar and in charge of the missions there, and knows everybody in and everything about that region.” I ended the interview with an invitation for him as well. “But,” I said, “if I invite Hoskins, shall I not slight Dr. Howard Bliss, president of the Protestant Syrian College at Beirut, who was introduced to me at a luncheon given for that purpose in New York by my warm friend, Cleveland H. Dodge, and whom I had then promised to visit at Beirut?” Then Peet said: “Why not invite Bliss, too? He would be a great acquisition to the party.” “But,” I added, “this won’t do, unless I also invite his daughter and her husband, Bayard Dodge.” So I invited these various parties, and received prompt acceptances. But this by no means completes the story.

A few days later Mr. Schmavonian, who had been connected with the Embassy for seventeen years as the Turkish adviser, and who was the custodian of the tradition of the Embassy, awaited me in my office one afternoon after, as I subsequently discovered, he had carefully instructed the doorkeeper not to announce any one for half an hour. He pointed out to me with great detail that American ambassadors had come and gone out of Constantinople, “while Schmavonian went on forever.” He then said: “Now, the benefits of all this knowledge that can be secured on this trip will be lost when you leave Constantinople. Why not take me along, and perpetuate them?” I laughingly asked him how long he expected to stay in the service of the United States, and he answered that he expected to die in it. I hesitated about taking Mr. Schmavonian along, and I told him so, as I feared it would interfere with the activities of the Embassy. He quickly responded: “You know that nothing important will be done in your absence without your consent, so why not have me with you at your elbow, so that you can have the benefit of my advice in deciding the problems that may come up in performing your duties as ambassador, while you are travelling?” I cabled the State Department, and got their consent to take him with me, and he proved of invaluable assistance.

My party then numbered six, besides my family. But, one day in Cairo, where I stopped en route to Palestine, I was approached by Chancellor McCormick of the University of Pittsburgh. After introducing himself and exchanging the compliments of the day, he said: “I hear you are going to visit the Caves of Machpelah. I would not have the audacity to ask you upon so informal an acquaintance [about twenty minutes] for permission to accompany you, but if you want to do a real favour to the three thousand girls and boys who attend the Pittsburgh University, by enabling them to hear from me all about the Caves of Machpelah, I hope you will take me with you.” His plea on behalf of those fine young Americans was irresistible, and he was promptly invited.

That same afternoon, a very likely, rather clerical-looking young man came up to me, and said: “Chancellor McCormick has told me that he has secured permission to accompany your party to visit the Caves of Machpelah and I thought that perhaps if you knew who I was, you would take me along also.” I asked: “Pray, who are you?” He replied: “My brother married Jessie Wilson.” So I said: “My dear Dr. Sayre, you are most cordially invited to join our party.”

Proceeding a few days later from Port Said to Jaffa, I discovered to my great delight that Viscount and Lady Bryce were fellow passengers on that boat. I invited them to join us at our table, and we had a very pleasant talk until late in the evening. I then left the tireless old Viscount on the deck with Schmavonian, and a little later was just about to retire for the night when Schmavonian knocked at the door of my stateroom. He told me that he had, perhaps unguardedly, told the Viscount of our intended trip to the Caves of Machpelah, and that Bryce had expressed an ardent desire to accompany us. I discussed the matter with the Viscount on the following day, and he said: “You know that I, as a former British Ambassador to the United States, could also secure the privilege of visiting the Caves.” I promptly told him that I would consider it a great honour if he and his wife would join our party.

When we finally started our trip to the Caves of Machpelah, our party like a rolling snowball had grown to twenty-six persons. The Caves are near the village of Hebron, some twenty-odd miles north of Jerusalem. We drove thither in open carriages, and at the end of our journey had an experience which confirmed my apprehensions regarding the susceptibilities of the Arab Mohammedans. As we drove into Hebron, a large crowd had gathered to greet us around an arch of welcome which the Jewish communities of Hebron had erected for the occasion. Just as our carriage drew near to the archway, a little Arab child broke loose from his parents, and ran directly in the path of our carriage. At a cry from my wife, the driver reined the horses back to their haunches, but the child was already directly beneath them. By good fortune that was little short of a miracle, their hoofs did not touch him, and he was quickly snatched to safety by his panic-stricken mother. But, I shall not soon forget the black looks of instinctive hatred upon the faces of the Arabs in that throng, who looked upon us as infidel intruders. The same looks and deep murmurs of disapproval accompanied us as we entered the sacred portals of their mosque, which covers the Caves of Machpelah. Their prayer hour had been postponed on account of our visit. Once inside, the spell of antiquity, and the great traditions, erased all other impressions from our minds. Several of the tombs were above ground, and over them were erected stone catafalques, their sides adorned with gorgeously embroidered rugs and broken by grilled doorways through which entrance to the tomb itself was permitted. The other tombs were in caves below the floor of the mosque. They could be seen through holes left in the floor for that purpose. As we examined them from above we observed that two of them, the graves of Abraham and Jacob, were littered with pieces of paper. Inquiry of our Moslem guides disclosed the reason. The Mohammedans have a belief that the spirits of these patriarchs have a special influence with the Deity, and that their intervention in behalf of the faithful can be invoked by written petitions addressed to them and dropped upon their tombs. Observing more closely, we noticed that there was a striking preference shown by the petitioners in the greater number of appeals that had been made in this manner to the spirit of the one rather than to the spirit of the other. Further inquiry developed a curious Moslem tradition to the effect that one patriarch was reputed to be of a benign and accommodating disposition, whereas the other was supposed to be irascible. In consequence, the prudent worshippers had mostly addressed their petitions to the spirit which they felt would be more receptive and not resent their intrusion.

After inspecting the tombs of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, we started to make a similar survey of the tombs of Sarah, Leah, and Rebecca. Our Moslem guides promptly stopped the men of our party. They explained that the Mohammedan rule, that men might not look upon the faces of women, applied to the dead as well as to the living, and that therefore only the ladies of our party might look within the enclosures which protected the tombs of the female saints.

Our inspection of the tombs occupied considerable time, and it was an interesting experience to feel the spell of their antiquity growing upon us. As the moments slipped by, we felt ourselves carried farther and farther back along the aisles of time and into the venerable realities of an august past. From talkative sightseers we were transformed into thoughtful ponderers upon these impressive memorials of history, and finally into silent and reverent worshippers at this shrine of three great religions. As we were about to leave, Dr. Hoskins suggested that I ask all of our party to devote five minutes to silent prayer. I did so, and there we stood, Moslems, Christians, and Jews--all of us conscious of the fact that we were in the presence of the tombs of our joint forefathers--that no matter in what details we differed, we traced our religion back to the same source, and the ten minutes to which this prayer extended were undoubtedly the most sacred that I have ever spent in my life.

Never have I experienced so solemn and exalted an emotion as that which filled my spirit, standing there in worship at those tombs four thousand years old, around which converged, and met, a sublime religious history, which had altered the life of one half the human race through forty centuries.

I have carried my narrative away from its chronological sequence in order to tell of our visit to the Caves of Machpelah as one related incident. Returning now to the earlier part of our journey, our brief stops at Smyrna and Athens were followed by a direct route to Alexandria, where we arrived on March 26th. Our Russian vessel ran up the American flag at the masthead in honour of our presence aboard, and at the dock we were further honoured by a reception committee consisting of Olney Arnold, the American consular agent at Cairo, Consul Garrels, Captain Macauley of the _Scorpion_, and Mahmoud Tahgri Bey, the acting Governor of Alexandria. The last-named was a fine young man of about twenty-eight years of age. He told me that for some time Alexandria had been without a governor, but that the Khedive in honour of my coming had appointed him to that office, especially to give me a proper reception, and that he had only assumed his office at eight o’clock that very morning. He presented Mrs. Morgenthau with a bouquet of flowers and my daughter Ruth with a box of _marrons glacés_, with the compliments of the Khedive. It was amusing to see what important stress he laid upon this--his first--official act. The Khedive had sent his own official private car for our journey. At the railroad station in Alexandria the Khedivial Entrance had been opened for us, and a cordon of soldiers were lined upon either side to secure us an uninterrupted passageway; the Khedive had neglected nothing, not even forgetting to provide a delicious luncheon, which was served us in his car, as we proceeded to Cairo.

We arrived in time to drive out and view the Pyramids before going to Arnold’s house for dinner. There Arnold acquainted me with a curious complication which arose out of my wish to meet Lord Kitchener. He explained to me the anomalous position which Kitchener occupied in Egypt. Though Great Britain absolutely controlled that country’s destinies, and though Kitchener, as the representative of Britain, was practically dictator, Egypt was nominally a part of the Turkish Empire, and the Khedive was the head of its government. Kitchener’s official title was British Agent and Consul-General, and as such, on ceremonial occasions, he ranked far below not merely the Khedive, but myself, as an Ambassador. When Arnold had told Kitchener of my coming, and that I wished to meet him, he expressed a cordial interest in the interview, but was somewhat puzzled how to meet the question of precedence. If he recognized me at Cairo as Ambassador from the United States, it might embarrass him in maintaining the attitude that Great Britain was taking in regard to Turkish rights in Egypt. If Kitchener invited me to meet him, the question of rank would come up. This question had arisen before, because even the other consuls-general who had arrived at Cairo earlier than Kitchener outranked him in diplomatic precedence. This problem, however, had been solved by an ingenious device. Whenever Kitchener was invited to a function where it was likely to arise, he was requested to act as host and thereby secured the place of honour.

I resolved Arnold’s perplexity and Kitchener’s by saying that I had no intention of standing on my rights, and would be glad to pay Kitchener an informal call, as I certainly did not wish to leave Cairo without seeing him. When Kitchener received this message, he promptly invited me to call at ten o’clock the following morning. He was evidently informed of my intention to call on the Khedive at eleven o’clock and wished me to call on him (Kitchener) first. This call was very brief. After the exchange of the customary formalities, Kitchener launched into numerous questions about Turkey. He wished to know more about the men who made up the Committee of Union and Progress. He was especially interested in the Grand Vizier, Prince Said Halim, to whom the Young Turk Government had promised the place of the Khedive of Egypt--a position which he was qualified to fill on its social side by virtue of his aristocratic lineage and superior education. Kitchener asked me to explain, if I could, how a man of Said Halim’s antecedents had come to be associated with “such uncouth cut-throats” as Talaat and Enver.

We had scarcely gotten into an intimate conversation when I realized that I must hurry back to my hotel where the Khedive’s carriage was to call for me shortly before eleven o’clock. Kitchener said that he wished to continue the conversation, and asked me if I would not bring Mrs. Morgenthau and my daughter to lunch with him two days later. I accepted the invitation.

At eleven o’clock the Khedive’s carriage arrived to take me to the Palace for my official call. Policemen were posted at every cross street along the entire route, so as to give us an uninterrupted right of way and to give us proper recognition. I was delighted with my conference with the Khedive. He proved to be a thoroughly up-to-date, modern enterprising business man without any frills or assumption of airs. He met me at the door of the reception room, led me to a sofa, sat down next to me, and while sipping the inevitable Turkish coffee, talked to me for about half an hour about some of his investments in Turkey, and told me of his intention to occupy his summer residence on the Bosphorus at Yenikeny where I also had taken summer quarters. He then said that he regretted exceedingly that, before he had learned of my impending visit, he had made an appointment which would require him to leave town that afternoon, and he asked, in consequence, if he might not return my visit that same day. I told him that he reminded me of a Japanese student who, after paying a two-hour afternoon call on a lady in Boston, and receiving from her when he left a polite invitation to call again, walked around the block three times, and paid her a second visit. The Khedive laughed heartily, and though I assured him that I would gladly waive the formality which required him to return my visit, he insisted that he wished to continue the conversation, and would call later in the day.

Consequently, that same afternoon, the Khedive returned my call at the Consular Agency, continuing the conversation as though there had been no interruption. He told me of the enormous cotton exports of Egypt valued at two hundred million dollars a year, and how his forefathers had developed the cotton industry in Egypt. As Kitchener had done, he asked numerous questions about the conditions in Turkey, and was very solicitous about the activities of the Government, and their relation to the diplomatic situation in Constantinople. It was a very curious experience to sit with one of the Oriental potentates on an absolutely equal footing, and to hear him talk about commercial and political affairs in perfectly good English, and in a business vernacular.

The day after I exchanged calls with the Khedive I had a very interesting visit from his brother, Ali Mehemmid, who called on me, and we talked for two hours. He proved to be a thoroughly chauvinistic Oriental, even assuring me that he had remained single because he wanted absolute freedom in his political moves. He had travelled a great deal, and his pride and patriotism were deeply wounded by the fact that Egypt had to submit to British protection. Under the pressure of my questions, he admitted that the Egyptians had greatly benefited by British rule, but he claimed that these benefits were more than counterbalanced by the evils which the European customs and schools had introduced into his country. He felt that the schools depraved the Egyptian children, and that the Egyptian women had been much happier before they read European novels and became slaves of the modes. He admitted that the Orientals were imitators, and would eventually have to find some way of “Orientalizing the Occidental Progress,” which I thought was a neat way of putting it. He disliked the Union and Progress Party in Turkey because its members lacked breeding, and experience in administration. He believed that the Arabs and Turks living in Turkey would not permit the Constitutional Turks to trade them away in order to save their five vilayets in and near Europe. I returned Prince Mehemmid’s visit the next day, and was greatly surprised to see that he was building an Egyptian palace. He had none but Egyptian workmen, and was having magnificent wood carvings done right on the premises. He showed me his stables, and told me he had purchased the best specimens of pure Arab breed, and was determined, for the sake of Egypt, to perpetuate the finest breed of Arabian horses.

During our several days in Cairo we had a number of interesting experiences, including various meetings with the Jews, which I shall describe in another chapter. After a visit to the oldest Coptic church, which was built fourteen hundred years ago on the site of a temple that stood on a spot where the Arabs first entered Cairo, we went to the famous Cairo University. Our guide was Arif Pasha, the representative of the Khedive, who had been a schoolmate of Mr. Schmavonian. He introduced us to the Sheikh-ul-Islam, who took us to see the pupils. This was a never-to-be-forgotten sight. Ten thousand pupils were seated on the floors of the institution, there being no chairs or benches. Squatting on the ground, which was covered with stones, all of them were intently listening to readings or explanations by priests and teachers, all of them obviously very poor, and all equally sincere and earnest. The scholars were from many lands and races--from India, all parts of Turkey and the provinces, Abyssinia, even negroes from Somaliland. I have never seen so many people apparently so insatiable for knowledge, and so tremendously absorbed in acquiring it amid such squalid conditions. They seemed perfectly content, and, yet, I was told, they live on next to nothing. Each receives at the beginning of the week a certain number of flexible pieces of bread, and they have to divide them up themselves so that they will last for the succeeding seven days. They sleep on miserable cots, four and five in one room.

At last came our luncheon with Lord Kitchener. Even at this private luncheon I could foresee that the question of precedence was bound to present itself, and I was interested to learn how he was going to circumvent it. When we arrived, I was very much amused at the ingenuity he had displayed in evading it. In his dining room he had had two separate tables set, at one of which he presided with Mrs. Morgenthau at his right, and at the other of which his sister presided, and I sat at her right. After luncheon, he took us through some of the rooms, and showed us his wonderful collection of Russian ikons, describing how he had gathered them, and drawing our attention to those that were especially attractive. Then he took me into a small room, closed the door, and we had an intimate lengthy conversation. He had profound reasons for being intensely interested in the personalities and ambitions of the new Young Turk Government in Constantinople, and he evidently intended to take full advantage of my freshly acquired knowledge, for he practically put me on the witness stand on this subject, and indulged in a very thorough cross examination.

With Egypt nominally a protectorate of Turkey, and in view of Great Britain’s interest in Egypt, it was enormously important for Kitchener to get at the actual facts of what was going on at the capital of Turkey. He could not understand how Said Halim, who was the cousin of the Khedive and was wedded to an Egyptian princess, was permitting these Young Turks to use him as a figure-head, and allowing them to encroach upon his prerogatives as Grand Vizier. Kitchener told me that he knew all about the Sultan, and realized how impotent he was to exert any influence, or to assume any real authority; that he had expected that Said Halim would be the real power in Turkey, but that his present information was that Talaat and his Committee of Union and Progress were developing into the real authority. He was especially anxious to know all about Enver. He was surprised that a man like Enver who had never won a battle and was only a revolutionist, and not a soldier, should be raised from the rank of major to be Minister of War, because, in Turkey, the Minister of War was really the head of the army. Kitchener also asked me what the true condition of the Turkish army was, and whether his information was correct that Turkey was rapidly disintegrating. He thought that these inexperienced men would never be able to master the situation, and re-assert their authority over lost territories. He was anxious to know the attitude of the foreign ambassadors toward the Young Turks--how they treated them--and whether they mixed with them socially; and he was astonished when I told him that the German Ambassador was the only one who had any real contact with, and influence over, the Young Turks.

I answered all his questions as fully as I could with propriety, and then, in turn, began to ply him with questions of my own. I asked him whether he was satisfied with England’s progress in Egypt. In reply, he went into a very elaborate and interesting explanation of Great Britain’s colonial policy, and explained his conception of empire building. He pointed out the definite continuity that had existed in Great Britain’s growth, and how essential it was for her to make secure the avenues of approach for her commerce from England to India. He expressed the opinion that the English--both by reason of their flexible character, their equitable system of administering justice, their willingness to preserve established customs and respect for religious institutions, and their long experience in such enterprises--were the best equipped of all peoples for colonial administration. He told me about some of his experiences in developing the Soudan; and in his description of this work, and of the work of the British Empire builders in other parts of the world, he talked of the Colonies in the same manner, and from much the same viewpoint, as I had been accustomed to hear among business men in New York who were developing some big business combination or trust.

I left Lord Kitchener with an impression of a man of sound business and political sense, powerful force of will, and an intense patriotism.

When we bade farewell to Cairo, we passed again through the Khedivial Entrance, and again entered the Khedive’s private car, which sped us part of the way along the Suez Canal to Port Said. We spent an hour inspecting the Canal at its mouth and the DeLesseps monument, and then boarded the steamer which was to carry us to Jaffa on the coast of Palestine. It was on this steamer that we had the good fortune to meet Viscount Bryce and his wife. This meeting was the beginning of a friendship which I valued most highly. On this trip I first had occasion to observe his method of obtaining information, which doubtless accounts for a part of his remarkable equipment as an historian. He was quite the greatest living questioner that I have ever met. He had developed cross examination to a fine art of picking men’s brains. Most other men gather their information from books. It was a joy to be permitted to attend his séances with people who possessed information. He first put them completely at ease by ascertaining what subjects they were thoroughly posted on, and then, with a beneficent suavity, he made them willing contributors to his own unlimited store of knowledge. His thirst for facts was unquenchable. Question followed question almost like the report of shots fired from a machine gun. By this process, I have seen him rifle every recess of the minds of men like Schmavonian, who was a storehouse of Turkish history, custom, and tradition, and of Dr. Franklin E. Hoskins, who is a profound scholar in Bible history. His method was physically exhausting to his victims, and in the hands of a less delightful personality would have been intolerable. But Lord Bryce was as charming as he was inquisitive, and more than that, he gave out of his vast erudition as freely as he received.

The morning after my first cross examination at his hands we arrived at Jaffa and proceeded on our tour through Palestine.

After the customary visits to the shrines of the Christians and the Jews and the Moslems (whose interest and significance were doubled by the eloquence and learning of Dr. Hoskins and Mr. Schmavonian), we proceeded northward toward Nabulus and Damascus. On our way thither we made a side trip westward to witness the Samaritan Easter sacrifice on Mount Gerizim. These Samaritans are one of the most interesting surviving remnants of antiquity in the world. They have scrupulously refrained from marrying outside their tribe, and have retained unchanged the customs which their lineal ancestors observed in the remotest Biblical times, antedating the Christian Era by many centuries. The total population in March, 1919, was only one hundred and forty-one. During Easter week they dwell in about twenty camps, living the life of their ancestors, and worshipping God in accordance with customs nearly four thousand years old. Each year at Easter-tide they ascend Mount Gerizim which they claim is the original Mount Moriah, to perform the ancient sacrifices after the manner, and as they claim, on the spot where Abraham performed them at the time when he offered to sacrifice Isaac. When we reached their encampment on Mount Gerizim, we called on the High Priest, Jacob-ben-Aaron who, after we had paid our respects, asked us if we wished to go over the grounds, and have the various things explained to us. He was too old to accompany us, and consequently requested two senior priests to act in his stead. They showed us the ruins of the Temple which Abraham had erected, the spot where he had suddenly discovered the ram who saved Isaac from the sacrifice, and the altar where the ancient sacrifices took place.

Just before sundown, the Samaritans gathered and began the services which were to last all through the night. They began with prayer and song, which were kept up for more than an hour until the sun had set. They then killed seven beautiful white lambs, and put them into a great hole in the ground, in which fires had been burning for a week. This was in accordance with the law which prescribes that no flames shall touch the meat of sacrifice. So the fires were removed before the carcasses were placed in the pits and covered with earth, after which the intense heat of the ground accomplished the necessary roasting. The Samaritans then resumed their prayers and singing, which by alternating, they kept up unbroken until a quarter to twelve, midnight. In the meantime, we occupied our two tents which had been erected by the American colony at Jerusalem for our use--one of the tents for repose, and the other a dining room where we took our evening meal. Some of the ladies wrapped themselves in rugs and went to sleep on steamer chairs, and the girls sat about chatting, while Doctors Bliss and Hoskins and I visited the different tents of the Samaritans, and had long talks with the High Priest and other priests. The High Priest explained to us that the material condition of the tribes was very bad. The Arabs disliked them and barely tolerated them. He, himself, was supposed to live on a tithe of the income of the tribe, but he said that this amount would not suffice to keep him for more than one month of the twelve, so that although he was more than seventy-four years of age, he used most of his time in copying the Pentateuch in Samaritan, and selling it whenever he could. Upon this hint, I bought a copy.

One of the tents was reserved for the unclean women. They are not permitted to partake of the holy meat, but in return they are allowed certain liberties. They had an Arab servant who was dancing for them while they were beating time with their hands.

In another tent we visited there was a sick man who was being looked after by a doctor. It was a very queer sight. The moon was shining brightly and you could see the men and women sitting around and visiting one another, all anxiously awaiting the division of the lambs. The High Priest excused himself for not having provided one lamb for us, but he had not anticipated that we would remain there until midnight. Of course, he said, as we were not Samaritans, he could not offer us any of the sacrificial meat.

About midnight, the lambs were brought out and there were seven groups, and to each group was given a lamb, and they divided it with their hands and ate it with their fingers--no knife, fork, or any other implement being used. A great many of the men took large chunks of the meat to their tents, where the women and children were waiting. They ate it ravenously, as the law prescribes.

It was indeed a strange and interesting experience. Here, on a fine moonlight night, on a lonely mountain in distant Palestine, was a little tribe of people carrying out without affectation the customs which their ancestors had observed unbroken for thousands of years, still dressed in the same garb, speaking the same language, and conducting themselves in the same manner as the shepherd folk of the time of Abraham.

A member of our party, Mr. Richard Whiting, took a number of remarkable flash-light photographs of the ceremonies, a complete series of reproductions of which was published in the _National Geographic Magazine_ some years ago. Shortly after midnight our party started homeward. Most of them were afraid to trust themselves in the dark on the horses and donkeys, and so they walked. Lord Bryce and I stuck to our horses, and it was a curious sight to see our little caravan wending its way toward the hotel in the darkness of the middle of the night--I with my Samaritan manuscript, and my daughter with one of the knives used for the sacrifice, which had been presented to her by one of the Samaritans.

The headquarters from which we had made our excursion to Mount Gerizim was the city of Nabulus. From this same headquarters we made another excursion to Sebastiyeh, the old Samaritan capital of the ten tribes of Judea. Here was the spot where the Assyrians besieged the Jews for three years, and then, in turn, were driven out by Alexander the Great. The ruins had Jewish foundations and superstructures erected by the Romans under Herod.

These two plunges into remote antiquity suggested to my imagination the reply which I made to the Governor of Nabulus when he called one day in great excitement to say that he had just been notified that Talaat had telegraphed from Constantinople to ask whether we were satisfied with our progress and receptions. The Governor was very anxious to know what he could do for me, and asked whether I preferred a dinner or some other form of entertainment. I replied that I had had so many Turkish dinners, and so many formal receptions, and asked if he would not arrange an Arabian night. The allusion evidently meant nothing to him, for I had to explain that I wanted to witness exactly how the Arabs spent their evenings, and suggested to him that this could be done if he would collect a group of important men of the town at some place where they were accustomed to gather, and permit me and a few of my friends to sit in with them as silent observers. The Governor caught the spirit of my request, and arranged for the entertainment. At eight-thirty the following evening he and a number of his officials called for us (Lord Bryce, Doctors Bliss and Hoskins, Messrs. Peet, Schmavonian, and myself), and led us through the winding darkness of the streets of a real Arabian town.

The Chief of Police and three of his assistants headed our procession. Each was carrying a table lamp instead of the ordinary lantern. Then I followed, with the Governor of Nabulus on one side and Viscount Bryce on the other, and behind us, the rest of our party, Mahmoud Tewfik Hamid, the recently elected Deputy of the District, and other prominent Arabs.

As we walked through the dark, narrow little streets bending in every direction, we saw here and there a shoemaker at his work, and a few fruit shops still tempting the few passers-by with their wares. The air we breathed was laden with a pleasing Oriental aroma. At last, we unexpectedly found ourselves in a large square courtyard, in the centre of which was a fountain playing. From this courtyard we were ushered into an illuminated room about thirty feet square and twenty feet high. Marble divans ran around the sides of this room, covered with beautiful rugs. In the centre were numerous lamps of various kinds, and the walls were hung with rugs. On the divans sat, cross-legged, twenty-four of the most prominent Arabs of the city, smoking, drinking coffee, sipping lemonade, and carrying on an animated conversation. Through the guide, a nephew of the Governor, I requested them to continue their discussions, and to disregard our presence. The guide, in the meantime, informed us as to the pedigree and identity of the Arabs present.

Doctor Bliss interpreted for me. The Arabs were discussing the expected completion of a railroad line to Nabulus, and the effect it would have upon the exports of soap, which was the principal product of the city. They were pleased to know that they could make up larger packages than could be carried by the camels, which were the only means of transport at the moment, and they were figuring out the economy of this innovation. After concluding their discussion, they turned to us and acted as our hosts. They spoke with great pride of their lineage. They looked, indeed, with their intelligent faces and dignified bearing, like men bred of good stock. One of them told me that he had positive evidence at home that his family had lived in Nabulus for more than five hundred years, and another one traced his lineage back to the prophet Mohammed.

The scene reminded me of the “Thousand and One Arabian Nights.” Two sons and two nephews of Ismail Agha Nimr, the owner of the house, were continually flitting about, serving cigarettes, syrup, tea, and coffee. Nothing could have been more gracious or hospitable than their manner toward us.

Our homeward walk was made under the full moon, and was as picturesque as had been the one earlier in the evening. Unconsciously, I could not keep from expecting genii to jump out at me from one of the little doors of the native houses.

From Tiberias, our route led us to Damascus, where we spent several days exploring this most ancient of cities, and the beautiful surrounding country, and visiting the very attractive ruins at Balbek. Thence, we went to Beirut where the Syrian Protestant College is located--one of the finest American institutions in the Near East. Here we visited a very interesting Jewish settlement also. We then journeyed to Mersine, Adena, Tarsus, and Rhodes, returning to Constantinople on May 1st.