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.