CHAPTER II.PALESTINE.
From Port Said we sailed for Jaffa, the ancient Joppa of Scripture; and the landing here was the most novel and exciting scene I had yet witnessed in that way. So difficult is the landing sometimes that passengers are always conditionally booked for Jaffa, and to be landed, at the option of the captain, at Beyrout. In our case it was resolved to land, but after some hesitation. The eastern border of the Mediterranean although low is generally rocky, and is extremely subject to sudden and violent storms of waves and breakers on the coast, and no place so much so as Jaffa. There is no harbour, and passengers and goodsare landed on the beach; in front is a barrier of three low rocks, the passage between which is only wide enough to admit a boat; the surf often runs very high, and the least deviation would inevitably result in boat-wreck. The pilotage of the boat few but a practised Arab would undertake, and the excitement and bustle on the beach on such occasions are something extraordinary. When we landed, nearly a thousand Arabs, all of the lower class, and not overburdened with garments, congregated ready to fish us out in the event of such an accident.
The moment our boat touched the beach, a crowd of these fellows—who seem all legs and arms—rushed forward, up to the chest in the water, and seized me, one by each limb, bearing me aloft to the shore without leave asked, and carrying on all the while a violent quarrel amongst themselves as to whom I belonged—each of them claiming me as his salvage. The ladies certainly were treated with some measure of respect; but all the other passengersand every article of our luggage passed through the same ordeal, and notwithstanding the violence of the surf we were all landed wonderfully dry—but still in custody of at least four clamorous proprietors, each vociferously demanding payment for our rescue. How we escaped with our luggage safe is wonderful: I presume it could not have been managed but for our dragoman and his lieutenant. The clamour was somewhat more than amusing; but on this as on numerous similar occasions I remarked that, however threatening these Arab quarrels are, I never saw oneseriouslywound or strike another, even where I was prepared by violence of language and fierceness of gesticulation, to see a murder perpetrated. When no weapon is at hand, they arm themselves with large stones, which are certainly plentiful everywhere.
The hotel, occupied I think by a Frenchman, is situated about a mile beyond the town, beside an orange grove and a few new buildingsentirely in the European style. The town itself has a fine appearance from a distance. It is walled and very old, of small size, but extremely crowded, and built upon a rock rising almost out of the sea; the streets—narrow, filthy, and crooked—are besides, generally speaking, very steep. The buildings look as if they had been meant each for a fort, with nothing pleasant-looking about them except the roofs, on which the families appeared chiefly to live. The people at the bazaars seemed a very bustling mixed class, and of a lower morale than any we had met—blacklegs, gamblers, showmen, loafers, and waifs of many lands.
Here, as elsewhere, we found travellers of all nationalities—the Americans perhaps the most numerous. Ladies formed no small fraction of the number, and were in general—at least the Americans—the most thoroughly in earnest, and best equipped. With many of them every possible nook and corner must be explored,and while others were content to see the tombs of patriarchs and saints, Pharaohs and sacred bulls, some preferred to climb into and at least temporarily occupy the empty sarcophagus or cell—often under circumstances of difficulty. As for Eastern relics, I think America—if not England also—must now contain waggon-loads of them.
We sometimes met the same faces again and again in our wanderings. Among others here was an English lady from Cornwall whom we had met in the drawing-room at Cairo. There she had told me she was obliged to travel a second tour to take care of her nephew—a strong, handsome-looking youth, apparently fit for the Life Guards—whose health, she assured me, was suffering from overwork. He certainly became his illness remarkably well, as half the invalids in Egypt do.
“I was,” said she, “first told, ‘Go to Cairo and die!’ and I went; then I am told, ‘Go to Jerusalem and die!’ and so I am en route now.”
About a month later, as we rode up the beautiful valley of the Lebanons to Balbec, we passed her party riding down—she was an excellent rider and well mounted.
“Go to Damascus and die!” she cried.
She has been to Damascus, but I trust has not died even yet; and hope she may live long enough to “Go to Livingstonia and die!”
Of course we visited the house and stood upon the roof said to be that from which Peter saw the wonderful vision of the net let down from Heaven. I did not believe the story, because the house could not be more than a few hundred years old at the most; but it is by no means improbable that it is built upon the site—the description answers so well. In the neighbourhood of Jaffa, and not far from the hotel, is a colony founded several years ago by a party of Latter Day Saints from America. Although this proved a painful failure, and the parties subsequently returnedto their own country, they spent both money and labour in the building of a few good houses, and introduced important agricultural improvements, traces of which are yet visible.
I cannot leave Jaffa without making mention of the “Jaffa oranges,” which are famous all the East over for their extraordinary size and excellence. I should say that, on an average, each is nearly as large as four ordinary oranges, and it was a very pleasant sight to see this splendid yellow fruit hanging overhead in passing along the groves, which are all irrigated artificially. Here the crop of fruits generally seemed rich, and prepared us to expect many such gardens in our after journey in the land of milk and honey. How great the disappointment was we shall see.
After a night’s rest, we found ourselves on horseback, en route for Jerusalem. The Jaffa horses are Arabians, of small size, spirited, but very sure-footed; and mine was one of the surest-footed of the lot—a little vicious, but Iafterwards found its skin was sadly broken under the saddle, and so am now not surprised that he was frequently somewhat restless. In fairness to our dragoman, however, it should be mentioned that a German prince had started two days before us, who, with his large suite, had taken all the best horses in the place. The Jaffa horse “boys” are, I think, a somewhat mongrel class of Arabs—cruel and cunning, and seemed to delight in mischief of every description.
Almost every one breaks the journey at Ramleh, which lies only an easy journey south-eastwards, and is said to have been the property of Joseph of Arimathea. Here there is a tower somewhat similar to the old Norman square towers at home, and it did not appear to be much more ancient. From its summit we obtained an extensive view of the country. On the west, and northward along the coast, lay the once fertile plains of Sharon, which we had just crossed; on the southward, the countryof the Philistines—Gaza, Askelon, Gath—the scene of Samson’s exploits and sufferings, and of David’s victory over Goliath; and, later on, along the plain south-west was the Ethiopian eunuch’s carriage stopped to take up Philip the Evangelist. On the east was the “hill country of Judea,” which we had already partly ascended.
Instead of erecting our tents, we put up in one of the convents, of which there are two always ready to receive strangers—the Russian and the French—both of which have very much the appearance of fortresses, and may have been founded during the Crusades. We were not asked to join in any religious service in the convent, which seemed to be almost deserted at the time.
Next morning, after an early breakfast, we were again in the saddle, and from this point upwards to Jerusalem the ascent was very considerable almost all the way, and rendered even more steep by a very deep wady or ravine in our route. Hitherto the road had beenpartly made, but now we lost for a time all trace of it, other than the usual Palestine bridle-track over hill and gully, and along paths which it is difficult to describe, and which are in some places barely discernible.
Being our first day’s long journey, we gladly stopped at noon for lunch, which, as on most other occasions, consisted of wheaten loaves, cold fowl, fruit, and wine; the donkeys carrying the tents in the meantime moved on, as they travel somewhat more slowly. The ascent had become extremely wearisome both for horse and rider before we came in sight of the great city, and, as in the case of the Crusaders of old, many an eager outlook was made for Mount Sion before it actually came in sight. But we had tarried so much on the way that the sun was rapidly sinking in the west as we approached the walls of Jerusalem. The gates were just being shut, and our first sight of it was therefore very imperfect.
Entering by the Jaffa gate, which frontsthe south-west, we found ourselves suddenly involved in darkness so great that our party lost sight of each other before we reached the hotel. This was the Hotel Damas, or Damascus Hotel, the only other good one being the Mediterranean Hotel, which was occupied entirely by the Grand Duke Mecklenburg and suite. A very large portion of travellers, however, obtain lodgings in the several convents and hospices of the various religious houses.
How shall I describe Jerusalem? With its form all are familiar, but no description which I can give would, I think, convey a correct idea of the place; at least all the descriptions I previously read had completely failed to do so to me. No doubt these descriptions are literally true more or less, but there was an awful sense of desolation which seemed to hang over the whole scene that no words can describe; and I can only express my own feelings, which were those of absolute pain.
The Jerusalem of to-day is in no sense, exceptits site, the Jerusalem of the Bible—Salem the Peaceful—Mount Moriah—Mount Sion—Calvary—names which awaken by their very sound ideas of grandeur and victory! Jerusalem the Golden—compassed about by the everlasting hills—beautiful for situation, the joy of the whole earth—the city of the Great King!
Instead of these, there was only the idea of desolation and defeat. “Is this the city that men call the perfection of beauty?”—a confused mass of shapeless, dirty, half ruinous houses, built without plan, and almost resembling the wreck of a conquered citadel. Yet every spot has a history: here the house of Pilate—there the Temple site—yonder the tomb of David; and deep in the chasms on the east and south the brook Kedron and Gethsemane, with the tombs of Absalom and those of the Prophets, the valleys of Jehoshaphat and Hinnom, of Gihon and the Field of Blood—all really one vast overcrowded graveyard.
Much vain effort has no doubt been madeto re-gild the departed glory, but the illusion did not satisfy my mind, and I found it impossible to realize the enthusiastic feelings of sanctity generally attached to these or to the so-called “Holy Places.” I felt that many of them were obviously false, and almost all of them improbable; indeed, it is perhaps well that such is the case. Jerusalem the beautiful now sits in the dust,and how indeed should we expect it to be otherwisewhen we read its foretold fatal doom, or consider that even since the beginning of the Christian era the city has been destroyed four times after long sieges—that of Titus being a complete destruction? Josephus gives upwards of 450 acres as the area within the walls then—now it is only 213. The very streets we walked through are evidently formed of the rubbish of fallen houses, the original streets being probably in many cases ten to fifty feet beneath the present surface. For here it is emphatically true that “as the tree falls so it must lie,” and so of the fallen houses—nothingis removed, and the new one is erected literally upon the ruins of the old. And yet no question arises as to the identity of the chosen city. The mountains still stand round about Jerusalem, but her glory is gone, and there remains merely the skeleton of her former beauty and comeliness.
There are very few Jews in Palestine, but in Jerusalem, which contains only 20,000 inhabitants, about 5000 are Jews, the balance consisting one-half of Arabs and Turks; the other of Armenians, Greeks, and Roman Catholics—Latin Christians, as the latter are called; besides Maronites, Copts, Druses, and others of less importance. Each of these has a church of its own, and all vie with each other in rivalry for a precedence by no means Christian. The Jews are poor and uninfluential; they have seven small synagogues—very mean-looking buildings—once there were several hundreds. However, under some unseen influence the Jews are by immigration at present rapidly increasing.By far the largest and finest erection in the city is the Mosque of Omar, and second is the El Aska, both erected upon the Haram or Court of the ancient Temple, and partly upon the original walls. These are beautiful buildings, and are rendered more so by their site, than which a finer cannot be imagined. Worthy, indeed, I think it must have been even of that magnificent Temple which Solomon built upon it.
The Mosque of Omar is an octagonal building, about 180 feet in diameter. Its marginal roof, nearly flat, but having a drum and large dome over its centre, resting upon its inner row of marble columns. The walls are covered externally and internally with marble, and higher up with Persian tiles of porcelain, the blue and white giving a very fine effect. There is round the frieze (written in large characters of gold upon blue) texts from the Koran, and the small windows in the roof are of beautifully variegated coloured glass of peculiarly subdued tints, but without figures, which Mahomedansand Jews alike reject in their places of worship as savouring of idolatry—they shed a pleasant light very grateful to the eye when all outside is bathed in bright sunshine. The outer circle of inside columns are of marble or granite, somewhat mixed, I thought, in colour and design. This building is of doubtful age. Some suppose it may have been originally erected for a Christian church. It is evidently of Byzantine design, although its architecture is somewhat of mixed character, and by no means of solid workmanship. The linings of marble and porcelain tiles are a kind of mosaic ornamentation more rich and beautiful than substantial and enduring. Suspended from the dome by a long chain is a large crystal candelabrum over the centre of the rock, the gift of a former sultan, and there are, as usual, numerous silver lamps so suspended. There is an elegant marble pulpit, with columns and arches of Arabic design, and altogether the interior is richly but not showilyornamented. The marble mosaic floor is partly covered with straw matting. Near the prayer niche in the wall I noticed several very ancient-looking copies of the Koran, which Braham told us infidels were not welcome to handle. This building may be called beautiful, but I think the word “grand” is not applicable, and I doubt if it is so to any Byzantine or Moorish architecture. Compared even with the second temple or its successor, that of Herod, whose site it partially occupies, I presume it would appear flimsy. With the grandeur and material glory of that of Solomon, of course, it need not be named.
Standing here on the site of Solomon’s Temple, how crowded is the mind with sacred associations! For it is probable that either on this spot or on Mount Sion adjoining was Salem the Peaceful, the seat of Melchisedek’s priesthood. And there seems no reason to doubt that this is the summit of that same Mount Moriah where God provided Abraham and Isaac with a lamb for a burnt-offering—typicalof that Lamb “prepared from the foundation of the world,” and to be offered up near the same spot nearly nineteen centuries afterwards.
The building next in importance is the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, a large, circular, domed building, erected upon what is supposed with far less certainty to be Mount Calvary. The present is quite a modern erection, as are also many of its contents, and of very poor architectural merit, but the original erection was very old, probably of the third century. It has been destroyed again and again by violence and fire. Within its walls are the sites of the “Holy Cross,” a small hole or socket cut into the rock, with those of the two thieves. Also the Tomb of Christ, enclosed in the Rotunda, a small unseemly tabernacle under the dome. This is the great object of veneration, where yearly is performed at Easter that holy-fire miracle so long scandalous to Christendom, and near it is a pillarmarking the centre of the world! Indeed, the objects of interest are so very numerous that, excepting perhaps to a devotee, they become very confusing. The whole place is overlaid with artificial trappings and ornaments, and monster-size wax candles, silver lamps, jewels, polished marbles, and woodwork, wholly incongruous with the ideas of a cross or a sepulchre. All is under lock and key, and a Turkish soldier opens and shuts the gate at his good pleasure, in a way very tantalizing and insulting to all the sects. This is only tolerated because of their mutual jealousy—frequently breaking out in quarrels and fights—in all which this Moslem must be the arbiter. His manner of showing his authority scarcely conceals his contempt for Christianity, and with such examples of it as are practised before him—such masquerades, and fights, and holy fires, and other incredible wonders and superstition—need we be surprised?
The Tomb of David is situate on MountSion, enclosed in a large plain stone building, which is in possession of the Government, and is guarded with much care. It is regarded with great veneration by all parties, and especially so by the Mahomedans. No admission can be in ordinary circumstances obtained into its interior, but it is said there are inside upon its floor two very curiously constructed and ornamented tombs.
There is a small English Church on Mount Sion, which we attended on Sunday, and enjoyed an excellent sermon from Bishop Gobat. Here, as elsewhere in the East, Sabbath is scarcely different from other days. The Mahomedans observe Friday, the Jews Saturday, and the Christians the first day of the week; but all of these days seem only partially observed at the best.
Outside the walls, of course, and on the south of the city, is the small cluster of “Houses of the Lepers.” There seems always some inhabiting them. No one appears tovisit them except at some distance. The sight is in no sense a pleasant one.
It is calculated that there are about 10,000 pilgrims visiting Jerusalem per annum; of these, of course, our party was reckoned, but the real pilgrims, I think, are the Jews, who come from all parts of the world. They are chiefly elderly people, of both sexes, venerable-looking, and evidently very much in earnest. Weekly, on Fridays, a number of them may always be seen at the “Wailing Place,” which is situated in a quiet alley, bounded on the one side by a portion of the walls of the ancient Temple Court—a few courses of the large stones of which are generally admitted to be of the original building. Here they stand with their faces to the wall in the attitude of prayer, apparently unconscious of the presence of straggling on-lookers like ourselves. A few of those we saw were evidently educated Jews, furnished with manuscript copies of the Law and the Prophets. They read earnestly,in a low tone of voice, each for himself, alternately kissing the stones, smiting their breast, and weeping. Some of them were seated on the ground, a few feet distant, apparently exhausted by fatigue. It was impossible to laugh in such a presence, and indeed even the Arabs seemed in pity to pay them an outward respect.
The Mahomedan pilgrims, although they allow Christ was a true prophet, did not appear to visit the sepulchre at all; their devotions were performed in the Mosque of St. Omar, the sacredness of which is held second only to that of Mecca. This is because of the famous vision related by Mahomet, in which he declares that in one night he was carried by the angel Gabriel from Mecca to Jerusalem, to the summit of a rock on Mount Moriah, and from thence he ascended on a winged pegasus to heaven, returning back to Mecca the same day laden with new inspirations! The mark of his presence heof courseleft behind on the rock inthe shape of a large hole, and hence the Moslems call St. Omar the “Dome of the Rock.” This rock is supposed by some to have formed the great altar of burnt-offering of Solomon’s Temple, and over it is now built this temple of the False Prophet!
The rock is of great size, covering a space of about fifty feet diameter, but is irregular in shape, and may be about six feet high, and, in accordance with Moslem ideas, is strictly watched and enclosed. It is also partly veiled, and rests, they say, upon nothing. To my eyes, it palpably rested on its own edges, inasmuch as there is a hollow excavation cut out under it, communicating, as some suppose, with the underground drains by which the blood and water of the sacrifices may have been washed away.
Although the followers of Mahomet look with contempt upon the credulous superstition of other religions, there is nothing too absurd for the devout Moslem to believe in connexion with his own, however contrary to the evidenceof his senses; many curious instances of this I might relate, did space permit. But some Christians are not much more enlightened. There is a very crooked street called the “Via Dolorosa,” because that by which the Saviour walked from Pilate’s Judgment Hall to Calvary. Here the monks show a built-up arch in a wall where once stood the now famous “Holy Stair” by which Jesus descended from the hall. This stair we were shown at Rome, whence it was transported, some say by miracle, and is now erected in St. Giovanni, one of the churches there. When in Rome we witnessed several female devotees climbing painfully up its steps upon their bare knees, while some who proposed walking up upon their feet were prohibited. Farther north in Via Dolorosa is shown the “Ecce Homo” Arch, also the house of Dives, with the stone on which Lazarus sat; and there is shown an indentation in the stone wall made by Jesus in leaning there to rest, wearied with His heavy cross; and soon, with many other interesting spots equally authentic!
Amongst travellers generally the subject of religion is very seldom introduced, although the Bible narrative is evidently in most men’s thoughts as these scenes pass before the eye. Here in Jerusalem we were privately informed, on very good authority, that a well-known wealthy Scotch marquis, probably to confirm his recent conversion, or perversion, was, through some very potent influence, permitted to remain within the Church of the Holy Sepulchre all night, which he either passed in religious devotions or slept in the so-called Saviour’s grave! He was attended only by his religious director and his dragoman, and I am not aware that such liberty has ever been accorded by the Turkish Government in any other instance. The story I believe to be quite true, and probably somewhat reveals the secret working of his mind at the time.
The Hall of Pilate, subsequently called theCastle of Antonia, was situated adjoining the Haram or Temple Court on the north, an eminence commanding that portion of the city, and on its site now stands the Turkish barracks. The Pasha until of recent years was subsidiary to the Governor of Syria. There is a telegraphic wire connecting Jerusalem with Damascus, Nabulous, and other centres, very necessary for military purposes.
The inhabitants of Jerusalem consist largely of Arabs, who appear to be rather more domesticated than we had hitherto seen them. They are, as well as the Turks (of whom the chief men are the governing class), all strict Mahomedans. The Arabs are, like the Jews, descendants of Abraham, and are probably—next to them—the most remarkable people on the globe. They are, as it were, the Anglo-Saxons of the East, occupying only the fertile and tropical, as the latter do the more temperate and arctic portions of the world, and both possessing in a high degree the faculty of displacing other races. Physically they are afine race, living generally in the open air, and having a high degree of elasticity and muscle. I think no other nation could long compete with them in running a race. They seem governed by numerous sheiks, and are formed into clans, very much like the Scotch Highlanders of old. They frequently look and act like boys set free for the holidays—noisy, restless, and quarrelsome as boys are. Mentally they do not appear to rank high; and yet this people have overrun all others with whom they came in contact, and occupy the places of the most renowned ancient races. The Assyrians, Babylonians, Medes, and Egyptians have disappeared, with many others, and Arabs fill their place. They have supplied kings for vacant thrones in abundance; and although at present largely governed by Turks (whom even now they maintain by their swords upon the Byzantine throne of the Cæsars) they are to be found swarming with semi-independence from Syria and the Great Valley of the Euphrates on the north to the islands in the Indian Ocean.Dr. Livingstone found them in Central Africa, the real although not the nominal masters. To describe them in the mass, I know no way of doing so better than saying that they are simple and purelypracticalin character, and extremely migratory in habits. Under no king, nor government, nor army, nor fortification, nor priesthood, except his own sheik (unless by force), each is a king, a priest, a government to himself; and so he declares no wars, but lets other potentates fight to clear the way for his own occupation and profit, or that of his sheik.
Between them and the Jews there is, I think, a remarkable resemblance as well as contrast. Both are descended from Abraham, and both inherited the temporal blessings promised to his seed, but with Isaac only was the spiritual covenant established. “As for Ishmael, I will multiply him exceedingly; twelve princes shall he beget, and I will make him a great nation. But my covenant will I establish with Isaac.” The Jews were confinedwithin the narrow compass of an extremely rich and fertile land, whose “defence was the munition of rocks.” The Arabs, while “living in presence of their brethren,” and indeed nearly surrounding the Holy Land, were at the same time scattered far and wide, and the Desert and Wilderness everywhere around has been their home—their hand against every man and every man’s hand against them. By them the Eastern slave trade is even yet carried on in defiance of all laws; and yet Arabia, their native home, has never been really violated by foreign step, but preserved intact for forty centuries—I think a fact unparalleled in the history of the world! And still it remains a sealed country; we know really far less of Arabia than of Japan. Like the Jews, they seem almost impervious to religious teaching; and while all other races are in some degree being Christianized, we never hear of any real breach made amongst the Arabs.
We saw no manufactures in Jerusalem except a little pottery work, some hand-spinningof wool and cotton for home use, and the making of numerous articles for pilgrims, such as beads, crosses, little olive-wood boxes, and the like, which I found were of very poor material and workmanship. There is quite a market for the sale of such articles on the paved outer court of the Church of the Sepulchre, where are two rows of sellers, chiefly monks, daily watching for buyers, and almost every visitor becomes one. There are also many articles of lace and fine sewed work to be obtained at one of the Latin religious houses, called “The Sisters of Sion.”
One day we endeavoured to walk round the city on the top of the walls, which are about twelve feet wide, and, commencing on the north, we obtained a very good view of the interior of the city, but the walls were so filthy that we were obliged to give up our walk. The houses have generally flat roofs, or otherwise dome-shaped. The gates are large, and arched over—the spacious porchesjust inside would still do for holding Courts of Justice as of old. The finest one—the Golden Gate, on the east—is built up because of some Moslem superstition that the Christians are at some future day to take the Holy City, entering by the Golden Gate! The walls have, of course, been rebuilt again and again. There are several remains of the original to be seen, especially the deep foundation of the south-east corner, and the remains of an ancient arch at the south-west angle of the Haram wall. These indicate a noble and very different style of building from the present.
There are no scavengers in Jerusalem—nor, indeed, in any of the cities of the Turks—except dogs, which have a sort of sacred respect paid them; and the Arabs, who practise cruelty to all the brute creation otherwise, respect the dog. In a state of semi-wildness, they seem the property of no one; but each street appears to belong to one or more of these dogs by a sort of prescriptive right, and woebetide the intruder who seeks to invade their domain! They are one of the pests of the place, and often snarl at strangers as they ride through the streets. Their colour is generally brown, and their size nearly that of our shepherd’s collie.
Unlike Cairo, carriages of any kind are rarely seen—the streets, in fact, being very unsuitable for them. The city is largely undermined. Under the Temple Court is a fine subterranean arched building, generally called Solomon’s stables, into which we descended, and near them are some water cisterns of great extent, also underground. The storage of spring and also of rain water seems to have been a very important matter, and the remains of such cisterns and aqueducts are very numerous, chiefly underground.
Entering by a simple hole under the walls near the Damascus Gate on the north, we were each provided with a lighted candle, and crept rather than walked in a distance of 100 feetor so, when we found ourselves in an underground vault, or series of vaults, of great extent. They vary in height from five to thirty feet, looking like natural overhead archways of limestone rock, with here and there a pillar left for support. It is supposed they were excavated for supplying building stones for the city in ancient times, and the impression conveyed to my mind, after exploring this vast and dark range of caverns, was the instability of some portions of the city overhead.
The excavations being made by the London Palestine Exploration Society, of which the Earl of Shaftesbury is President, have led to important discoveries underground in Jerusalem, and no doubt will yet throw much light upon its ancient history, as well as that of the land of Palestine throughout, which seems mainly a land of ruins. Indeed, indications have already been obtained that the whole country is very much one vast sepulchre of ancient cities, buried under the stones and rubbishof their own ruins, the débris of hills, and the dust of ages. If so, many doubts frequently expressed as to the excessive population of the land, as indicated in the Bible records, will be removed. I called upon the secretary (a medical gentleman), whom I found professionally engaged at the fever hospital of the city; but he mentioned that the operations of the Society were at that time in abeyance; they have since been resumed, however.
We generally dined about six o’clock, at the table d’hôte, which was served after the French fashion. I wish to give, if I can, a description of the building of this hotel, as it is characteristic of very many houses in Jerusalem and other cities of Palestine. Situated in a street about twenty feet wide, we enter by an inside narrow and steep flight of stone steps, strong and solid looking, but not finer than that by which we would approach a hay-loft in this country. The landing consists of a platform,which also forms the roof of the ground flat of the building—how occupied I could not find out. Surrounding this landing—which looked like a paved or asphalted court in the open air—is a range of houses forming the second story of the erection, and containing also a third story above it, ascended by an inner flight of open stone steps. Here were the dining-room and parlour of the hotel—plainly furnished rooms, with windows looking into the inner court or platform, and others looking down into the street. The other rooms were variously occupied for bedrooms and other purposes. Mine was a full-sized room, about ten feet high, with a roof in the form of a very flat arch. The building was thus almost completely fireproof, perhaps the reason being that there are almost no timber trees in Palestine worthy of the name, nor indeed much wood of any kind.
In the little parlour adjoining I one day noticed an English gentleman sitting alone,evidently sorely wounded, and very unwell—like the man who fell among thieves. I found he was from England—a partner in a highly respectable and well-known mercantile house, and in fact a correspondent of my own. He had, as I afterwards found, a clerk as travelling companion to take charge of him. A man of excellent business talents, he had recently fallen one more victim to intemperance, and was now making this tour to be out of temptation’s reach. So far, I understood, it was quite a failure. Alexandria and the steamers had proved too potent trials for him; and at Ismailia, notwithstanding his being strictly watched, he had—to get at the beer shops at the harbour—escaped during the night by the window of his bedroom, but, falling in the descent, had broken his arm and created some scenes amongst the Arabs, which his attendant had got settled up at some trouble and cost. Fortunately there is no Bow Street there, and no penny-a-liners. He said he was not enjoyinghis journey; indeed his getting up to Jerusalem at all had proved a tedious and most trying difficulty. I pitied him, and his companion too. He talked very sagely, but took no interest in anything around, and so there seemed little hope for him; and so soon as able to sit on horseback, he proposed to return. Although his condition was painfully obvious to all, he told me quite confidentially that he had met with an accident in his journey. He seemed a sad wreck morally, mentally, and physically—the first perhaps includes all; but having been “a man of mind” once, let us hope he has “come to himself” ere now. I mention this incident because I have been told that sending such cases to travel in Egypt and Palestine is—when the expense is not a barrier—by no means very uncommon.
Jerusalem is best seen from the Mount of Olives, the summit of which is about 100 feet higher than the city walls. It is separated from the city by a deep gorge—extremely steep,especially on the Jerusalem side—called the Valley of Jehoshaphat; flowing through it is the Brook Kedron, which we found almost dry, although the rains had only ceased falling the previous week. From this brook on the east of Jerusalem commences the ascent of the Mount; and here also, I confess, my disappointment was extreme. The Mount of Olives was associated in my mind with the ideas of beauty, of rich verdure, shady groves, and stately trees, but instead there were barren rock, almost no soil, and here and there a few trees stunted in height, with their trunks hollow, and wrinkled with age, growing out of the dry ground. There was very little verdure of any kind other than the leaves of the few very aged evergreen olive trees, which afforded a partial shade from the sun, then shining brightly overhead; but where were the luxuriant fig and the palm trees? My life-long pleasant illusions were completely dispelled. More especially was this the case in the garden of Gethsemane, orwhat is now called such. This is a roughly walled-in corner of the lower margin of the Mount, in possession I think of the Latin Church. There have been some attempts made at giving it the appearance of a garden—a few rudely-made walks, lined with a shabby low wooden fence, and some efforts at cultivation made—but with poor success. The enclosure contains some seven olive trees, large and spreading but not proportionally lofty, centuries old, propped up to keep them from falling, and having their large hollow trunks filled with loose stones; also two or three modern cypresses. A few paltry pictures of devotional subjects are affixed to the enclosing wall, not artistically superior to the children’s halfpenny pictures of a dozen years ago. The Mount being then, as is generally understood, unenclosed and bounded by the public road, it is very difficult to suppose that Jesus could here have retired for privacy, as we read He did on that eventful evening.
Indeed, this consideration suggests doubts as to this being the site of Gethsemane at all, or if it is, shows that the Mount of Olives of the present day must be but the shrunk-up skeleton of the richly wooded Olivet of the New Testament. And yet, of all the sacred places, as they are called, none satisfies the mind of the traveller for its undoubted genuineness more than this Mount of Olives. These remarks apply to Oliphet as seen fronting to Jerusalem, but there are a number of trees at its summit and north-west, but they are disappointing in size and luxuriance. Except by contrast with the surrounding barrenness, they could not boast of much beauty or comeliness.
Passing outward from Jerusalem by the St. Stephen’s or eastern gate of the city—inside of which is the pool of Bethesda, substantially built of stone, large and deep but empty and uncared for—we pass through a crowd of Moslem tombstones, then by the spot of St. Stephen’s martyrdom, from which in asteep slanting direction we descend a narrow roadway down to and across the small bridge of the Kedron. Here, at the corner of the wall of Gethsemane, commences the ascent over the Mount of Olives in the direction of Bethany, and being also the main road from Jerusalem to Jericho, it is a good deal frequented.
Over the mountain, and a short way down its eastern slope, is the little village of Bethany, which was, perhaps more than any other, the home of our Saviour during His residence in Judea. This road must have been traversed by Him daily to and from Jerusalem, very probably accompanied by His friend Lazarus; and few travellers fail to stand upon the summit of Olivet, and imagine themselves on the spot from which He beheld the city and wept over it, and from which perhaps were uttered the words, “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets!” The barren fig tree[4]imaginationcan very easily supply, and the whole view is calculated to bring many incidents of Scripture so strongly before the mind as never again to be forgotten. One feels certain of the truth of the history, as certain as any fact can be—then not being really acted out before the bodily eye.
I sat down and looked once more upon the city. I thought of the Jews’ Wailing Place, now almost opposite, and then of that other wailing place by the river of Babylon, where they hanged their harps upon the willows and wept when they remembered Sion. And as I sat in silence an historical mental retrospect arose unbidden—profound and solemn, but tinged with a beauty, somewhat sad, yet indescribably pensive and pleasing.
We were to leave Jerusalem on the morrow for a journey down to the Dead Sea, but returning in two or three days for a final sight of the ancient city.