“Caste is the ruling note in India. The story which tells how the level plains of Kathiawar were reclaimed from the sea illustrates this. The egrets laid their eggs on the former ocean-line and the wave swept them away. The egrets swore that the sea should be filled up until she surrendered the eggs. They summoned the other birds to help them, and all obeyed their call except the eagle. He was the favourite steed of Vishnu, so thought himself exonerated from mundane duties. But Vishnu looked askance at him and said that he should be put out of caste unless he went to help his fellows. Back he flew to Kathiawar, and when the sea saw that the royal bird had joined the ranks of her opponents she succumbed and gave back the eggs.“Hindu respect for animal life entails consequences which make one wonder how the earth can provide not only for the swarms of human inhabitants, including unproductive religious mendicants, but also for such numbers of mischievous beasts. Some castes will kill no animals at all, and all Hindus hold so many as sacred that peacocks, monkeys, and pigeons may be seen everywhere, destroying crops and eating people out of house and home. The people of a town, driven to desperation, may be induced to catch the monkeys, fill a train with them, and dispatch it to discharge its cargo at some desolate spot; but woe betide a simicide! The monkeys in any given street will resent and lament the capture of a comrade, but do not care at all if a stranger is carried off. He is not of their caste.”
“Caste is the ruling note in India. The story which tells how the level plains of Kathiawar were reclaimed from the sea illustrates this. The egrets laid their eggs on the former ocean-line and the wave swept them away. The egrets swore that the sea should be filled up until she surrendered the eggs. They summoned the other birds to help them, and all obeyed their call except the eagle. He was the favourite steed of Vishnu, so thought himself exonerated from mundane duties. But Vishnu looked askance at him and said that he should be put out of caste unless he went to help his fellows. Back he flew to Kathiawar, and when the sea saw that the royal bird had joined the ranks of her opponents she succumbed and gave back the eggs.
“Hindu respect for animal life entails consequences which make one wonder how the earth can provide not only for the swarms of human inhabitants, including unproductive religious mendicants, but also for such numbers of mischievous beasts. Some castes will kill no animals at all, and all Hindus hold so many as sacred that peacocks, monkeys, and pigeons may be seen everywhere, destroying crops and eating people out of house and home. The people of a town, driven to desperation, may be induced to catch the monkeys, fill a train with them, and dispatch it to discharge its cargo at some desolate spot; but woe betide a simicide! The monkeys in any given street will resent and lament the capture of a comrade, but do not care at all if a stranger is carried off. He is not of their caste.”
MEDITATIONS OF A WESTERN WANDERER
In May 1889—The National Reviewalso published the following verses, which I wrote after reading Sir Alfred Lyall’s “Meditations of a Hindu Prince.” I called them “Meditations of a Western Wanderer”:
“All the world over, meseemeth, wherever my footsteps have trod,The nations have builded them temples, and in them have imaged their God.Of the temples the Nature around them has fashioned and moulded the plan,And the gods took their life and their being from the visions and longings of man.“So the Greek bade his marble be instinct with curves of the rock-riven foam,Within it enshrining the Beauty and the Lore of his sunlitten home;And the Northman hewed deep in the mountain and reared his huge pillars on high,And drank to the strength of the thunder and the force flashing keen from the sky.“But they knew, did those builders of old time, that wisdom and courage are vain,That Persephonē rises in springtide to sink in the winter again,That the revelling halls of Walhalla shall crumble when ages have rolledO’er the deep-rooted stem of the World-ash and the hardly-won Treasure of gold.“I turn to thee, mystical India, I ask ye, ye Dreamers of earth,Of the Whence and the Whither of spirit, of the tale of its birth and rebirth.For the folks ye have temples and legends and dances to heroes and kings,But ye sages know more, would ye tell it, of the soul with her god-given wings.“Ah, nations have broken your barriers; ah, empires have drunk of your stream,And each ere it passed bore its witness, and left a new thought for your dream:The Moslem saith, ‘One is the Godhead,’ the Brahmin ‘Inspiring all,’The Buddhist, ‘The Law is Almighty, by which ye shall stand or shall fall.’“Yea, verily One the All-Father; yea, Brahmin, all life is from Him,And Righteous the Law of the Buddha, but the path of attainment is dim.Is God not afar from His creature—the Law over-hard to obey?Wherein shall the Life be of profit to man seeing evil bear sway?“Must I ask of the faith which to children and not to the wise is revealed?By it shall the mist be uplifted? By it shall the shrine be unsealed?Must I take it, the often-forgotten yet echoing answer of youth—‘’Tis I,’ saith the Word of the Father, ‘am the Way and the Life and the Truth’?“The Truth dwelleth ay with the peoples, let priests hide its light as they will;’Tis spirit to spirit that speaketh, and spirit aspireth still;Wherever I seek I shall find it, that infinite longing of manTo rise to the house of his Father, to end where his being began.“And the secret that gives him the power, the message that shows him the way,Is the Light he will struggle to follow, the Word he perforce will obey.It is not the voice of the whirlwind, nor bolt from the storm-kindled dome;’Tis stillness that bringeth the tidings—the child knows the accents of home.”
We had a calm voyage to Suez in theBengal. It was fortunate that it was calm—for theBengalwas quite an old-fashioned ship. I think only something over 3,000 tons—different from theArcadia, then the show-ship of the P. and O. fleet. I was amused once to come across an account by Sir Richard Burton of a voyage which he took in theBengalyears before, when he described the P. and O. as having done away with the terrors of ocean travel by having provided such a magnificent vessel.
We spent nine days at Cairo and Alexandria and saw the usual sights, then quite new to us; but it is generally a mistake to visit one great land with a history and antiquities of its own when the mind has just been captured by another. Anyhow, we were so full of the glories of India that Egypt failed to make the appeal to us which she would otherwise have done, and which she did on subsequent visits. The mosques in particular seemed to us inferior to the marble dreams of Delhiand Agra. Moreover on this occasion we did not ascend the Nile and see the wonderful temples. The one thing which really impressed me was the Sphinx, though I regret to say that my husband and son entirely declined to share my feelings. Lord Kitchener was then, as Adjutant to Sir Francis Grenfell, Colonel Kitchener. He afterwards became a great friend of ours, but we first made his acquaintance on this visit to Cairo. We had a most interesting inspection of the Barrage works under the guidance of Sir Colin Moncrieff and dined with the Khedive, and at the British Agency.
From Alexandria we went by an Egyptian steamer—at least a steamer belonging to an Egyptian line—to Athens, which we reached on March 15th, accompanied by Lady Galloway. On this voyage I performed the one heroic deed of my life, with which bad sailors like myself will sympathise. The crew of this ship was mainly Turkish—the native Egyptians being no good as seamen, but the captain, Losco by name, was a Maltese and exceedingly proud of being a British subject.
AN ENGLISH PLUM-PUDDING
The first day of our voyage on theBéhérawas calm, and we sat cheerfully at dinner listening to his conversation. He was particularly emphatic in his assertions that he understood something of English cuisine, I believe taught by his mother, and above all he understood the concoction of an English plum-pudding and that it must be boiled for twenty-four hours. Said he, “You shall have a plum-pudding for dinner tomorrow.” Then and there he sent for the steward and gave him full instructions. Next evening the plum-pudding duly appeared, but meantime the wind had freshened and the sea had risen. Under suchconditions I am in the habit of retiring to my cabin and remaining prostrate until happier hours dawn—but was I to shake, if not shatter, the allegiance of this British subject by failing in my duty to a British pudding? I did not flinch. I sat through the courses until the pudding was on the table. I ate and praised, and then retired.
We reached Athens early on the following morning and forgot rough seas and plum-puddings in the pleasure of revisiting our former haunts and showing them to Jersey and Villiers. The King and Queen were again good enough to ask us to luncheon and dinner, and this time we also found the British Minister, Sir Edmund Monson, who had been absent on our previous visit. He kindly included Villiers, though barely sixteen years old, in an invitation to dinner, and much amusement was caused in diplomatic circles by the very pretty daughter of the American Minister, Clarice Fearn. She was about seventeen and had evidently been almost deprived of young companionship during her sojourn at Athens. She was seated at the British Legation between Villiers and a French Secretary no longer in his first youth, so she promptly turned to the latter and said, “I am not going to talk to you, I am going to talk to Lord Villiers”; result, an animated conversation between the youngsters throughout dinner. She at once acquired the nickname of “La belle-fille de l’avenir,” and long afterwards a man who had been at the British Legation some time subsequent to our visit said that he had always heard her called this, though he had never known the reason. I need hardly add that “Society” at Athens was very small and easily amused. Poor “belle-fille de l’avenir,” I saw her again when she and her sister stayed for a time atSomerville College at Oxford, but she died quite young. Her sister, Mrs. Barton French, still lives.
THE GREEK ROYAL FAMILY
For the rest I need not recapitulate Greek experiences beyond transcribing part of a letter to my mother which contains an account of the domestic life of the Greek Royal Family in those bygone days:
“Despite the weather we have been very comfortable here and found almost all our old friends. The Queen has a new baby since last year, to whom she is quite devoted. It is number seven, but you might think they had never had a baby before. The first time we had luncheon there we all migrated to the nursery, and the Duke of Sparta who is going to marry Princess Sophie of Germany, almost resented George’s suggestion that some beautiful gold things of his might be moved out of the nursery cupboard, as he said ‘they have always been there.’ Last Sunday we had luncheon there again, and this time the baby was brought downstairs and his brothers and sisters competed for the honour of nursing him, the Queen and several of us finally seating ourselves on the floor in order that the infant prince might more conveniently play with theheadof his next youngest brother, who lay down with it on a cushion for the purpose. It makes one almost sad to see the eldest Princess, brought up like this—a perfectly innocent girl always in fits of laughter—going to be married to one of the Czar’s brothers; she will find it so different in that Russian Court, poor thing.”
“Despite the weather we have been very comfortable here and found almost all our old friends. The Queen has a new baby since last year, to whom she is quite devoted. It is number seven, but you might think they had never had a baby before. The first time we had luncheon there we all migrated to the nursery, and the Duke of Sparta who is going to marry Princess Sophie of Germany, almost resented George’s suggestion that some beautiful gold things of his might be moved out of the nursery cupboard, as he said ‘they have always been there.’ Last Sunday we had luncheon there again, and this time the baby was brought downstairs and his brothers and sisters competed for the honour of nursing him, the Queen and several of us finally seating ourselves on the floor in order that the infant prince might more conveniently play with theheadof his next youngest brother, who lay down with it on a cushion for the purpose. It makes one almost sad to see the eldest Princess, brought up like this—a perfectly innocent girl always in fits of laughter—going to be married to one of the Czar’s brothers; she will find it so different in that Russian Court, poor thing.”
Further on in the same letter I write:
“Everyone has a different story about the Rudolph-Stephanie affair. I have met several people who knew the Baroness and say she was very lovely. Some disbelieve suicide, as he was shot through the back of his head and she through the small of her back, but, as the Austrian Minister here says, no one knows or ever will know the real truth. I think the tragediesin those three imperial houses, Russia, Germany, and Austria, surpass any the world has ever seen,” and I cite the wise man’s prayer for “neither poverty nor riches” as “about right.”
“Everyone has a different story about the Rudolph-Stephanie affair. I have met several people who knew the Baroness and say she was very lovely. Some disbelieve suicide, as he was shot through the back of his head and she through the small of her back, but, as the Austrian Minister here says, no one knows or ever will know the real truth. I think the tragediesin those three imperial houses, Russia, Germany, and Austria, surpass any the world has ever seen,” and I cite the wise man’s prayer for “neither poverty nor riches” as “about right.”
My mother sent the long letter of which this formed part to my aunt Theodora Guest, who made a characteristic comment. She allowed the wisdom of the prayer, but continued—“but in praying for neither poverty nor riches, I should be careful to add ‘especially not the former,’ for I don’t see that poverty ensures peace, or security from murder—and it would be hard to be poor all one’s lifeandbe murdered at the end! Better be rich and comfortable if only for a time. Still I would not be Empress ofRussiafor something, and that poor innocent Grecian princessisto be pitied.”
This was written April 1889. What would my mother, my aunt, or myself have said now?
The baby of our luncheon party was Christopher, now the husband of Mrs. Leeds. The poor little Princess whose doom we feared had a more merciful one than many of her relations. She married the Grand Duke Paul later in 1889 and died in 1891 after the birth of her second child. Taken indeed from the evil to come. Her children were adopted by the Grand Duchess Serge, who I believe has been murdered in the late Terror—but I do not know what has happened to the children.
ORIGINAL DERIVATIONS
To turn to something more cheerful. A delightful woman, a real Mrs. Malaprop, had lately been at Athens and much enlivened the British Legation both by her remarks and her credulity. With her the Parthenon was the “Parthian,” the Odeum (an ancient theatre) the “Odium,” Tanagra became “Tangiers,” and so on. She told Mr. Haggard that she did not like the“Parthian,” it was too big. “Oh,” he said, “you ought to like it, for you have heard of the Parthian shafts—those” (pointing to the columns) “are the original Parthian shafts.” “How very interesting!” said she. He then proceeded to inform her that the Odeum was used for music (which was true), but added that the music was so bad that they all hated it, and therefore the place was called the “Odium”—also “very interesting.” She was taken for an excursion in Thessaly, where there were sheep-pens on the mountains, and one happened to be fenced in a shape something like an irregular figure 8. Another lady pointed this out and gravely informed her that that was how the Pelasgiansnumbered their mountains. “Oh, Charles,” shouted the victim to her husband, “do look—the Pelasgians numbered their hills—one, two, three—there is number eight!”
WINDSOR—EGYPT AND SYRIA
After our return to London in the spring I was greatly surprised when on meeting Sir Henry Ponsonby one day at a party he desired me to send my article on India to the Queen. He was at that time her Private Secretary and knew her deep interest in all things concerning India, but I never imagined that anything which I had written was sufficiently important to be worth her notice. However, I could but do as I was ordered, and I was still more surprised a little later at the result, which was a command that Jersey and I should dine and sleep at Windsor. Jersey had been there before, but it was novel to me and very interesting.
We were taken on arrival to a very nice set of rooms overlooking the Long Walk, up which we presently saw the Queen returning from her afternoon drive. An excellent tea was brought us and Lord Edward Clinton came to look after us—also another member of the Household, I forget who it was, but I recollect that an animated discussion took place in our sitting-room as to an omission on the part of somebody to send to meet the Speaker (Arthur Peel) at the station! It is always rather a comfort to ordinary mortals to find that even in the most exalted establishments mistakes do sometimes occur. We were told that dinner would be at a nominal 8.30, and that a page would take us down when we were ready. Of course we were dressed inexcellent time, but just as I had finished my toilet Jersey came into my room in great agitation. He was expected to wear what we called “the funny trousers”—not knee-breeches, but trousers fastened just below the calf of the leg and showing the socks. Unfortunately his black silk socks were marked in white, and he said I must pick out the marking—which was impossible all in a minute, and the rooms somewhat dimly lit. However, my maid suggested inking over the marks, to my immense relief—and all was well.
DINNER AT WINDSOR
When we went downstairs the Lady-in-Waiting, Lady Southampton, showed us a plan of the table, and it was explained that when the Queen went in to dinner we all followed—were not sent in with a man—and seated ourselves as directed. Then as time approached we were drawn up on either side of the door by which the Queen entered. She greeted each in turn kindly but quickly, and went straight in. It was not really stiff or formidable when we were once seated. After dinner the Queen established herself in a chair in the Long Gallery and each guest was called up in turn for a little conversation. She talked to me about India, and said that it was only her great age and the fact that she was a very bad sailor that prevented her going there. She was much interested in our having seen her Munshi at Agra, and he always formed a link between Her Majesty and ourselves. She had us to Windsor two or three times altogether, and always spoke of him and arranged that we should see him. He was quite a modest humble man to begin with, but I fear that his head was rather turned later on.
Two pieces of advice Her Majesty bestowed upon me, to keep a Journal, and wherever I travelled never to forget England.
This school term we were greatly pleased at Villiers winning the Junior Oppidan Exhibition at Eton. He had not even told us that he was going in for it, and we saw the first announcement inThe Times. His master, Mr. Donaldson, wrote that he took it “in his stride without quickening his space at all or making any special preparation for it.” It was certainly a creditable performance after missing a whole term while in India.
In February 1890 Lady Galloway and I set off on a fresh expedition. Jersey was anxious that I should escape the cold, and held out hopes—unfortunately not fulfilled—of joining us later. We went by a Messageries steamer—theCongo—to Alexandria, and thence to Cairo, where we found various friends, including Colonel Kitchener, who had meantime stayed at Osterley and who looked after us splendidly. He was very amusing, and when there was a difficulty about our cabins on the Nile boat he went off with us to Cook’s Office and said that wemusthave two cabins instead of two berths with which, despite our orders given in London, they tried to put us off. No one in Egypt could ever resist Kitchener’s orders. He declared that we represented two aunts whom he expected. I do not mean that he told Cook this.
He told us how he and other officers had looked after Mr. Chamberlain on a late journey up the Nile and how he felt sure that they had enlightened him a good deal. It was very shortly after this that Mr. Chamberlain made a famous speech in Birmingham wherein he said that he had seen enough of Egypt to realise that England could not abandon the country in its present condition. I do not remember the words, but that was what they conveyed, quite different from former Radicalpronouncements. That was the great thing with Mr. Chamberlain. As I have already maintained, he had an open mind, and was ready to learn from facts and experience.
VOYAGE UP THE NILE
To return to our Egyptian experiences. We went to Luxor on the post boat, and spent about a week at the hotel there. We found all sorts of friends on dahabyahs and in other places, and were duly impressed by the mighty temples and tombs of the kings. I do not attempt any description of these marvels, never to be forgotten by those who have seen them.
While we were at Luxor the Sirdar, Sir Francis Grenfell, arrived on a tour of inspection with Lady Grenfell and others. We joined the same steamer, theRameses, and having so many friends on board made the voyage as far as Assouan additionally pleasant. The direct military jurisdiction at that time began near Edfou, and a force of Ababdeh, or native guerilla police who were paid to guard the wells, came to receive the Sirdar on his reaching this territory. A number mounted on camels led by their Sheikh on horseback galloped along the bank as the ship steamed on. At Edfou itself there was a great reception of native infantry and others mounted on camels and horses.
On this trip we saw beautiful Philæ in perfection; and also had the experience, while at Assouan, of shooting the cataract, really a succession of rapids among rocks. The boatmen took care to make this appear quite dangerous by getting close to a rock and then just avoiding it with loud shouts. An Austrian, Prince Schwarzenberg, who was one of our fellow-passengers, looked pretty anxious during the process, but there was no real cause for alarm. Last time we visited Egypt the Dam, though of enormous benefit tothe country, had destroyed much of the charm of Philæ and of the excitement of the cataract.
From Assouan the Grenfells and their party went on to Wady Halfa, and Lady Galloway, Mr. Clarke of the British Agency, and I set off on our return journey to Cairo. Prince Schwarzenberg and his friend Count Westfahlen were our fellow-passengers. The Prince was very melancholy, having lost a young wife to whom he was devoted; also he was very religious. Count Westfahlen admired him greatly. The Prince was quite interesting and cheered up considerably in the course of our voyage. He was a good deal impressed by the ordinary fact, as it seemed to us, that the English on board the steamer had left a portion of the deck undisturbed for the Sirdar’s party without having been officially requested to do so. According to him, Austrians of the middle-class would not have done so under similar circumstances. On the other hand, he was astonished to learn that English boys of our own families were in the habit of playing games with the villagers. If his views of Bohemian society were correct, “democracy” for good and for evil was at a distinct discount!
Meantime the most amusing part of our down-river voyage occurred at Assiout, where the steamer anchored, and where we spent the afternoon with the Mudir Choucry Pasha and dined with him in the evening. He received us with a splendid cortège of donkeys (quite superior to the ordinary race) and attendants; and showed us the hospital—where there were some women among others who had been wounded at Toski—the prison, and American schools. What entertained us most, however, was an Italian Franciscan convent where the nuns trained girls. The Prince was quite scandalisedbecause, he said, they ought to have been strictly cloistered—whereas they admitted him, Mr. Clarke, and the Mudir, whom they declared was “un bon papa”; and one of the nuns played “Il Bacio” and the Boulanger Hymn for our amusement.
CHOUCRY PASHA.
Choucry Pasha then took Lady Galloway and me to visit his wife and married daughter, who, though their charms were by no means dangerous, were much more particular in secluding themselves than the nuns, for the men of our party had to keep out of the way until our interview was over and they had retired. Then the Mudir sent a messenger to ask the Prince and Mr. Clarke to join us. They declared that they were taken aback when the black servant conveyed the summons thus: “Pasha, ladies, harem,” not feeling sure but that they would have to rescue us from an unknown fate. What they did find in the house was the dusky host on his knees unpacking his portmanteau before us in order to produce for our inspection some antiquities which he had stowed away amongst his socks and other garments!
The dinner, later in the evening, consisted of various oriental dishes, and a large turkey appearing after sweet pastry.
PRINCESS NAZLI
While at Cairo we paid a visit to the well-known Princess Nazli, a relation of the Khedive’s who received Europeans, both men and ladies, but not altogether with the approval of her vice-regal relatives. She said that the doctor wanted her to go to the Kissingen baths, but the Khedive did not like her to go alone, would prefer that she should marry someone. The Khedive had told her in speaking of some other relations that Sir Evelyn Baring might interfere with anything else but not with the members of his family. She hadretorted, “You had better let him interfere with the family, as then he will resign in three weeks.”
She told us of the cruelties which she knew were inflicted on their slaves by the old ladies of Ibrahim Pasha’s and Mehemet Ali’s family, and of how her English governess would send her to try to obtain mercy when the screams of the victims were heard. She remembered when she was a child how the ladies taught their attendants to use the kourbash, and how she saw the poor women covered with blood.
Among other notable people then in Cairo was the explorer Henry Stanley (afterwards Sir Henry), who had not long returned from his expedition to relieve Emin Pasha, and had visited the Pigmies. We met him at dinner at Colonel Kitchener’s, and as I sat near him we talked a good deal. My impression was that he did not easily begin a conversation, but was fluent when once launched. He was engaged on his book,In Darkest Africa, in which he declared that there were to be three pages devoted to a beautiful white lady fragrant with the odours of Araby whom he met under the Equator! If I subsequently identified her I fear that I have now forgotten her.
THE PIGMIES
I remarked on the loss of my brother-in-law’s relative Mr. Powell, who had gone up in a balloon and never been heard of again, whereat Stanley’s comment was, “That would be someone to look for!” We had already met his companion, Dr. Parkes, at the Citadel, who had shown some of us the little darts used by the dwarfs. Years later Mr. James Harrison brought several of the Pigmy men and women to England, and they performed at the Hippodrome. He kindly offered to bring them down to one of our Osterley garden parties, where they created great interest andamusement. They were about as big as children five to seven years old, and quite willing to be led by the hand. We had a long, low table arranged for them on the lawn near some tall trees, and one of the little men said, through the interpreter, that he thought that “there must be good shooting in this forest.” We gave them some children’s toys; when the little woman first saw a doll she shrank away quite frightened, but was subsequently much pleased. The chief little man appropriated a skipping-rope, and appeared with it tied round his waist at the Hippodrome that evening. We were told that the price of a wife among them was two arrows, and one who had previously lost an arrow was distressed at having lost “half a wife.” The Pigmies did not seem to mind the company, but when one rather big man had inspected a little woman more closely than pleased her she waited till he had turned his back and then put out her tongue at him!
To return to our travels in 1890. We left Port Said on a Russian boat on the afternoon of March 19th and reached Jaffa early the following morning and Jerusalem the same evening. It was very thrilling, and I am always glad that we were there before the days of railways. The whole place was pervaded with Russian pilgrims, many of whom arrived on our boat. Jerusalem has inspired painters, scribes, and poets for hundreds of years, so I will only mention one or two of the scenes which struck us most.
Naturally the Church of the Holy Sepulchre made a deep impression upon us. The Sepulchre may or may not have been the original tomb in which our Lord was laid, but it has been consecrated by the vows and prayers of countless generations, thousands have shed their blood to win that spot from the infidel, and ifwarring Churches have built their chapels around it at least they cluster under the same roof and bow to the same Lord. The then Anglican Bishop, Dr. Blyth, took us over the church. We entered by the Chapel of the Angels into the little chapel or shrine containing the Sepulchre. There indeed it was impossible to forget the divisions of Christendom, as the altar over the Holy Tomb was divided into two portions, one decorated with images to suit the Latins, the other with a picture to meet the views of the Orthodox Church. Other chapels of the Roman and various Eastern Churches surround the Sanctuary, the finest being that of the Greeks, who seemed when we were there to exercise the chief authority over the whole building. The Greek Patriarch was a great friend of Bishop Blyth, and had allowed one or two English and American clergymen to celebrate in Abraham’s Chapel, a curious little chapel in an upper part of the mass of buildings included in the church. Near it was the bush in which the ram substituted for Isaac was supposed to have been caught.
Comprised in the church building are the steps up to Calvary, the place of the Crucifixion, and the cleft made by the earthquake in the rock.
The Church of the Nativity at Bethlehem is also very interesting. The Grotto, said to be on the site of the Stable, is under the church and the place of our Lord’s Birth is marked by a silver star let into the pavement. Beyond are caves formerly inhabited by St. Jerome, dark places in which to have translated the Bible. As usual there are chapels for the different sects, and blackened marks on the wall of a cave showed where they set it on fire in one of their quarrels. While we were in the church a procession passed from the Latin Chapel to the Grotto, and aTurkish soldier was standing with a fixed bayonet opposite the Armenian Chapel to keep the peace as it went by. The Armenians had been forced to fold a corner of the carpet before their altar slanting instead of square, that the Latin processions might have no pretext for treading on it. I suppose Indian Mohammedans are now enlisted as ecclesiastical police, unless indeed the warring Churches trust to the impartiality of English Tommies.
INN OF THE GOOD SAMARITAN
From Jerusalem we had a delightful excursion to Jericho. A carriage road over the mountain pass was in course of construction, but we had to ride horses as it was not yet ready for vehicles. On the way we passed the usual Russian pilgrims with their greasy ringlets, plodding on foot, but the most interesting party was one we saw at the Khan or Inn at the top of the pass. This Inn was no doubt on the site of that where the Good Samaritan left the traveller whom he had treated as a neighbour. Even if our Lord was only relating a parable, not an historic incident, this must have been the Inn which He had in mind, as it is the one natural stopping-place for travellers between Jerusalem and Jericho. While we were seated in the courtyard resting awhile in the open-air in preference to the primitive room within, there rode in a group exactly like the pictures of the Flight into Egypt—a man leading a donkey or mule (I forget which) on which was seated a woman carrying a baby, evidently taking it to baptize in Jordan. “The Madonna and Child,” exclaimed Lady Galloway, and we felt thrilled to see a living Bible picture before our eyes.
As to falling among thieves, we had been assured that there was every chance of our doing so unless we paid the Sheikh of an Arab tribe to accompany us asescort. This was a simple and generally accepted form of blackmail. The plundering Arabs agreed among themselves that any tourist giving a fixed sum to one of their leaders should be guaranteed against the unwelcome attentions of the rest. As a special tribute to “Lord Salisbury’s sister,” we were also provided with a Turkish soldier, but I doubt his utility. Anyhow the Arab was more picturesque and probably a more effectual guardian.
We had also with us our dragoman Nicholas, whom we had brought on from Egypt. I do not think that he knew much about Palestine, but he was always ready with an answer, and generally asserted that any spot we asked for was “just round the corner” of the nearest hill. I maliciously asked for Mount Carmel, knowing that it was far to the north. With a wave of his hand he declared, “Just round there.” When we reached the bituminous desert land surrounding the Dead Sea I gravely asked for Lot’s wife. “Lot’s wife?” said Nicholas, hopelessly perplexed. “Don’t you know, Nicholas?” said Lady Galloway. “She was turned into a pillar of salt.” “Oh yes,” he replied pointing to the nearest salt-like hillock, “there she is.” No doubt if he ever took later travellers to those parts they had the benefit of our identification.
We stopped for luncheon at Jericho, and having inspected the strange land surrounding the Dead Sea, we went on to the Jordan, a small, rapid river flowing among alders and rushes. There we washed our rings and bracelets and then returned to the Jordan Hotel at Jericho, a solitary building kept by a Hungarian, very comfortable in a simple way—though possessing a perfect farmyard of noisy animals. As is well known the Dead Sea lies over 1,300 feet below the level of theMediterranean and the Jordan discharges its water into it, without any outlet on the other side. Hence evaporation leaves all the saline deposits of the river in this inland Sea and causes its weird dead appearance and the heavy, forbidding nature of its waters.
THE HOLY CITY
It is impossible to dwell on all the spots named as scenes of Gospel history and tradition. As Lady Galloway truly remarked, the difference between the story as simply told by the Evangelists, and the aggregation of subsequent legend, deepened our conviction of the truth which we had learnt in childhood. For myself I had heard so much of the disappointment which I should probably feel at finding Jerusalem so small and thronged with so much that was tawdry and counter to all our instincts, that I was relieved to find the city and its surroundings far more beautiful and impressive than I had expected. To look from the Mount of Olives across the Valley of Jehoshaphat to where the Mosque of Omar rises on Mount Zion is in itself a revelation of all that stirred the souls of men of three Faiths who fought and died to win the Holy City. On the wall of rock on the city side of the Valley a spot was pointed out to us on which Mohammedan tradition foretold that Jesus would stand to judge mankind at the Last Day. I asked why Mohammedans should believe that our Lord would be the Judge. My informant hesitatingly replied that “He would judge the world for not believing in Mohammed”—but I think that the answer was only invented on the spur of the moment.
The one sacred spot inside the city about which there appeared to be no dispute was Pilate’s House, as from time immemorial this building had been the abode of the Roman Governor. When we saw it it formed partof the Convent of the Sisters of Zion, very nice women who educated orphans and carried on a day school. In a basement was the old pavement with marks of some kind of chess or draught board on which the Roman soldiers played a game. One of the arches of the court, now included in the Convent Chapel, is called the Ecce Homo Arch, as it is probable that our Lord stood under it when Pilate said “Behold the Man.”
On our way back to Jaffa we slept at Ramleh and again embarked on a Russian steamer, which sailed on the evening of March 25th and reached Beyrout on the following morning. Jaffa was known as a very difficult port in rough weather, but we were lucky both in landing and embarking. One of the rocks which impeded the entrance to the port was believed to have been the monster which Perseus petrified with the head of Medusa. I only hope that no engineer has blown up this classic rock for the sake of any improvement to the harbour!
Palestine must have entirely changed since we were there thirty-one years ago, and it is curious to look back on the problems exercising men’s minds at that time. The Jewish population was then stated to have nearly trebled itself in ten years. We were rather entertained by a sermon delivered by a very vehement cleric in the English Church. He prophesied that the Empire of Israel was bound to attain its ancient magnificent limits, but he said that he was not asking his congregation to contribute to this achievement (though he gave them the opportunity), as it was certain to be effected; only any of us who held back would not share in the ultimate triumph. I do not know what he would have said now, but if alive and holding the same views he must be a kind of Zionist.
The Sultan had given the old Church of the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem to the Emperor Frederick for the Germans, and the performances of his son are only too familiar, but in our day the fear was of Russian machinations. Russian pilgrims, as a pious act, were carrying stones to assist in building the Russian church, of which the tall minaret dominated the Mount of Olives, and the Russian Government was erecting large buildings for pilgrims just outside the city walls which, as we were significantly told, would be equally available for troops.
BALBEC
From Beyrout we had a two days’ drive, sleeping at Shtora on the way to Balbec. The road was over Lebanon, and a wonderful piece of French engineering. The Hôtel de Palmyra at Balbec was very comfortable. We found close by some of the first tourists of the season in tents supplied by Cook. They were very cheerful, but I think must have been rather cold, as March is full early for camping out in those regions and there was plenty of snow on the mountain tops. The women in that region wear a kind of patten in winter to keep them above the snow. It is a wooden over-shoe with raised sole and high wooden heel instead of the iron ring under English pattens. We were amazed at the splendour of the ruined Temples of Balbec, where the Sun was worshipped at different periods of ancient history as Baal or Jupiter. Most astonishing of all was the enormous Phœnician platform or substructure of great stones, three of which are each well over 60 feet long. In a quarry near by is another stone, 68 feet long, hewn but not cut away from the rock.
From Balbec we drove to Damascus, and met on the way an escort sent to meet Lady Galloway. Wedid not take the escort beyond Shtora, where we had luncheon, but at Hemeh we found the Vice-Consul, Mr. Meshaka, and a carriage and guard of honour sent by the Governor, so we drove into the town in state.
The result of these attentions to “the Prime Minister’s sister” was comic. A weird female had, it appears, seen us at Jerusalem and followed our traces to Damascus. We saw her once coming into the restaurant smoking a big cigar, and heard that she drank. She was reported to have had a difference with her late husband’s trustees on the subject of his cremation. Whether he, or she, or the trustees wanted him cremated I forget, and am uncertain whether she was carrying about his ashes, but anyhow she had vowed vengeance against Lady Galloway because we had been provided with an escort on more than one occasion and she had not. The maids said that this woman had armed herself with a revolver and sworn to shoot her rival! I will record our further meeting in due course.
Meantime we were delighted with Damascus, one of the most beautiful cities I have ever seen, standing amidst orchards then flowering with blossom, among which run Abana and Pharpar, so picturesque in their windings that we were inclined to forgive Naaman for vaunting them as “better than all the waters of Israel.” The men wore long quilted coats of brilliant colours, red, green, and yellow, and the women brightly coloured cotton garments. The whole effect was cheerful and gay.
Being an Oriental city, it was naturally full of intrigue and various citizens, notably the Jews, tried to claim European nationality so as to evade the exactions of the Turkish Government, but as far as we couldjudge they seemed very prosperous. We visited several houses, Turkish, Christian, and Jewish, very pretty, built round courts with orange trees and basins of water in the centre. The rooms were painted, or inlaid with marble—one of the Jewish houses quite gorgeous with inlaying, mother-of-pearl work, and carved marble; in one room a marble tree, white, with a yellow canary-bird perching in its branches. I think it was this house which boasted a fresco of the Crystal Palace to show that its owner lived under the “High Protection of the British Government.” Perhaps the family has now substituted a painting of the Eiffel Tower to propitiate the French.
We went to a mountain-spot overlooking the town below the platform called Paradise, from which tradition says that Mohammed looked down on the city, but thought it so beautiful that he refrained from entering it lest having enjoyed Paradise in this life he should forfeit a right to it hereafter. It is a pretty story, but I fear that history records that he did visit Damascus, for which I trust that he was forgiven, as the temptation must have been great.
DAMASCUS. LADY ELLENBOROUGH
We were much interested while at Damascus in hearing more about Lady Ellenborough, who had lived in the house occupied by the Consul, Mr. Dickson, who was very kind to us during our stay.
Lady Ellenborough was quite as adventurous a lady as Lady Hester Stanhope, and her existence on the whole more varied. She was the daughter of Admiral Sir Henry Digby, and when quite a young girl married Lord Ellenborough, then a widower. After six years’ experience of matrimony she was divorced, it was said in consequence of her flirtations with the then Prince Schwarzenberg. However, that may have been, shewas at one time married to a Bavarian Baron Venningen. How she got rid of him I do not know, but she was well known as the “wife” of Hadji Petros the brigand, whose son I have mentioned as among our friends at Athens. While in Greece she fell a victim to the fascination of the handsome Sheikh Mejmel el Mazrab, who had brought over Arab horses for sale. She went off with him, and her marriage to him is duly recorded in Burke’s Peerage. She lived with him partly at Damascus and partly in the desert, evidently much respected by her neighbours, who called her “Lady Digby” or “Mrs. Digby” as being sister of Lord Digby. She was a good artist and is said to have been very clever and pleasant. She dressed like a Bedouin woman, and when she attended the English church service came wrapped in her burnous; but Mr. Dickson’s father, who was then the clergyman, always knew when she had been there by finding a sovereign in the plate. She died in 1881. I never heard that she had a child by any of her husbands.
Among the glories of Damascus is the great Mosque, once a Christian church, and hallowed by both Christian and Moslem relics. When we were there it still had an inscription high up, I think in Greek characters, stating that the Kingdoms of this World should become the Kingdoms of Christ. There was a fire some time after we saw it, but I trust that the inscription is still intact. Among the many other places which we saw was the wall down which St. Paul escaped in a basket, and as we looked thence into the desert Mr. Dickson told us that until a short time before, a camel post started regularly from a gate near by, bearing an Indian mail to go by way of Bagdad. Before the Overland Route was opened this was one of the speediest routes, andwas continued long after the necessity had ceased to exist.
ORIENTAL METHODS OF TRADE
Time was some difficulty in Damascus, as Europeans generally reckoned by the usual clock, while the natives, Syrians and Arabs, counted, as in Biblical days, from sunrise to sunset and their hours varied from day to day—not that punctuality worried them much. In making an appointment, however, in which men of East and West were both involved it was necessary to specify which sort of time was approximately intended. Mr. Meshaka kindly took us to make some purchases, and he introduced us to one shop in which the proprietor—an Oriental, but I forget of exactly what nationality—had really established fixed prices on a reasonable scale. While we were looking round some Americans came in and began asking prices. The shopkeeper told them his principle of trade, whereupon said one of them: “That will not do at all. You must say so much more than you want and I must offer so much less. Then we must bargain until we come to an agreement.”
While they were considering their purchases I asked the price of some tiny models, in Damascus ware, of the women’s snow-shoes. The man answered me aloud, and then came up and whispered that they were a fifth of the price, but he was obliged to put it on nominally “because of those people”! How can dealers remain honest with such inducements to “profiteering”? However, there is not much risk of their abandoning their ancient methods of trade. I recollect Captain Hext (our P. and O. fellow-traveller) telling me of one of his experiences somewhere in the Levant. While his ship stopped at a port one of the usual local hawkers came on board and showed him a curio whichhe wished to possess. Captain Hext and the man were in a cabin, and the man reiterated that the object in question was worth a considerable sum, which he named. While Captain Hext was hesitating a note for him was dropped through the cabin-window by a friend well versed in the habits of those regions. Acting on the advice which it contained, he said to the hawker, “By the head of your grandmother is this worth so much?” The man turned quite pale, and replied, “By the head of my grandmother it is worth”—naming a much lower sum—which he accepted, but asked Captain Hext how he had learnt this formula (which of course he did not reveal) and implored him to tell no one else or he would be ruined. I am not quite sure whether it was the “head” or the “soul” of his grandmother by which he had to swear, but I think head.
We drove back from Damascus via Shtora to Beyrout, where the Consul told us of the strange requirements of visitors. One told him that he had been directed to pray for some forty days in a cave—and expected the Consul to find him the cave!