JERUSALEM.
[Illustration] THERE are some moments in our lives which it is
impossible for us to describe. We never forget them, and the impression
which they leave behind never fades from our memories; but still when
we try to speak of them to others, even to those whom we love best,
words fail us, and seem too weak to express what we mean.
I will not, therefore, attempt to describe what was the rush of feeling
which passed through my heart when, for the first time, I came in sight
of Jerusalem. Others who have had a like privilege will understand what
I felt, as Mr. Stanley made us pull up our horses on the top of a hill,
about half a mile from the city gate, and said to us, "Well, what do
you think of Jerusalem?"
Neither Evelyn nor I could answer him. Sir William had many questions
to ask about the houses and buildings on the road leading to the Jaffa
Gate, but we scarcely heard what they were saying. At that moment, it
seemed to us a matter of very small importance which was the Austrian
consul's house; which was the Pacha's country residence; which was
the German deaconesses' school; and which were the Russian church and
convent. All these details interested us afterwards, when we were more
familiar with Jerusalem; but at that moment, when we were able, for the
first time in our lives, to say "This is Jerusalem!" we had neither
time nor thought to spare for any interest in the modern buildings of
the city.
We rode on in silence, seeing, as if in a dream, the crowds of people
taking their evening walk on the Jaffa road—people of numerous nations,
and from every quarter of the globe, dressed in costumes as varied as
the colours of the rainbow.
Mr. Stanley rode up close beside me as we went through the Jaffa Gate,
and said, in a low voice, "I know just how you are feeling, Miss
Lindsay; it is, indeed, a wonderful moment in one's life!"
We had some difficulty in getting through the gate, for a number of
camels and mules were coming out of the city at the time, heavily laden
with baggage. Then we passed the Tower of David, and turned down a
quiet street, where stood the hotel in which Mr. Stanley had secured
rooms for us. He took leave of us here, as he was going to lodge at the
Latin Convent, which was in another part of the city, and where he had
stayed when he was last in Jerusalem.
The landlady of the hotel was a Scotch woman, and was very kind and
attentive. Our rooms were beautifully clean, with white stone floors,
white walls, white curtains before the windows, and white coverings on
the beds.
We did not sleep much that night. The fatigue and excitement which we
had gone through the day before would have been sufficient to keep
us awake; but even had we felt disposed to sleep, I do not think we
should have been able to do so, for the noises in the city, during the
night, were so many and so varied, that it seemed to us that, under any
circumstances, sleep would be very difficult to obtain. Our landlady
had told us that she hoped we should not be alarmed at any sound we
might hear in the night, for a wedding was going on in a house close
by, and the festivities would be kept up until the morning.
Accordingly, for many hours we were kept awake by the noise of music
and singing, by the beating of little drums, and by the shouts and
laughter of the wedding party. But as morning dawned the wedding
guests grew quieter, and we hoped to be able to sleep. Now, however,
we were disturbed by the howling and barking of the street dogs, which
at times was quite deafening. These dogs have no owners, but act as
the scavengers of the city, eating anything they can find amongst the
refuse and dirt of the streets. Each dog has his appointed place in
the city, and there seems to be a code of honour amongst them, that no
dog is to go into any other quarter of the city except that in which
he was born and bred, and in which he ordinarily gets his livelihood.
Immediately a strange dog from another part of Jerusalem makes his
appearance he is driven away by the united efforts of all the dogs in
the street which he has invaded, with enough noise to awaken the whole
city.
Poor Evelyn tossed about very wearily through the night, and I was
really afraid that she would be ill again. But her merry spirits seemed
to keep her up, for she found amusement in all our little discomforts,
and made me laugh in spite of myself many times during that long,
tiring night.
At length a lull came in the barking of the dogs; but now several bells
began to ring in the Greek and Latin convents of the city, and then we
heard the shouts of muleteers and camel-drivers, and the tinkling of
the mule-bells, as different parties of people set off in the cool of
the morning for Joppa, or some of the distant villages.
We got up at eight o'clock tired and unrefreshed. Sir William had slept
much better, and was in good spirits, and very anxious to go out and
explore Jerusalem. We needed no dragoman to take us to the various
places of interest, for Mr. Stanley, who knew his way about the city as
well as any of the inhabitants did, was very kind, and anxious to help
us.
I fancied that it was something more than ordinary kindness which
made him always so willing to make one of our party. I could not help
thinking that he was attracted by my dear Evelyn's sweet face and
winning ways. Who could help loving her? I said to myself, as I thought
the matter over a hundred times during our first day in Jerusalem. I
noticed, I could not help noticing, how diligently he kept near us, and
how pleased he seemed that Sir William thankfully accepted his offer to
be our guide whilst we stayed in the Holy City.
I shall never forget my first walk through the streets of Jerusalem. We
grew so familiar, in a few weeks' time, with all the Eastern sights and
sounds that we scarcely noticed them, but that morning everything was
strange and fresh and full of interest.
We went first across an open square in front of the Tower of David,
where a vegetable market was being held; and chickens and eggs, oranges
and lemons, were being exhibited for sale by the women from the
villages round Jerusalem, and were being bargained for and bought by
the townspeople.
Mr. Stanley called our attention to the enormous cauliflowers, so large
that one of them was sufficient to form the load of a small donkey, and
so heavy that neither Evelyn nor I could lift them from the ground. We
were curious to know how large the pans were in which they were boiled,
but Mr. Stanley told us they are always cut in pieces before boiling,
and that one cauliflower is sufficient to feed a family for a whole day.
There was so much noise and confusion in this market-place that it was
difficult to keep up conversation. No business transaction is done in
Jerusalem without a dispute, so fierce that, if it occurred in England,
we should expect it to end in blows. The salesman asks three times as
much for his goods as he expects to receive; and the buyer offers a
third of what he knows he will eventually have to give; and then they
begin to dispute, and wrangle, and scream, and shout, and swear, and
stamp their feet, and shake their fists, as if the affairs of a whole
nation depended upon it. We saw one such business transaction going on
in a street through which we passed.
[Illustration: IN JERUSALEM.]
"What is the matter here?" said Sir William, as he tried to make
his way through an angry, excited crowd, who were screaming and
gesticulating in the most alarming manner, as they clustered round a
camel and a camel driver.
"Oh, nothing at all!" said Mr. Stanley, laughing, as he listened to
what they were saying. "That man in the centre of the crowd is buying
a load of charcoal, and he and the owner of the charcoal are disputing
about a piastre, more or less, which in English money is about equal to
twopence."
"But who are all these other people?" said Sir William. "They cannot
all have an interest in this one load of charcoal."
"Oh no," said Mr. Stanley; "but they happened to be passing at the
time, and they have stopped to give their opinion, some taking the part
of the buyer and some of the seller, and all of them adding to the
general confusion by shouting and swearing and yelling at the highest
pitch of their voices."
We were glad to get out of the noisy crowd, and to descend a flight of
steps in the narrow street.
"Do you mind coming in here for a minute?" said Mr. Stanley, as he
stopped before a clean-looking building, and opened a small door in the
wall.
We followed him into a large room, and there we saw a very interesting
sight. All round the room were Jewesses, in their picturesque dresses,
sitting on mats on the floor. They were busily engaged with various
kinds of needlework; and an English lady was going about amongst them,
superintending their work, and teaching them anything which they did
not know. We were much interested in all she told us of these poor
women—they are learning by degrees to make their wretched homes bright
and comfortable, and to make garments for their husbands and children.
Above all, they are learning to love the Word of God, which is read
aloud to them as they work, and which is quite a new book to them, for
these poor Jerusalem Jewesses know as little of their Old Testament
Scriptures as they do of the New Testament. We gave them several orders
for various kinds of lace, which they make most beautifully; and Sir
William left a donation towards their savings bank, which is doing much
good amongst these poor mothers, encouraging them to lay by part of the
money which they earn, as a fund from which they can draw in times of
sickness or distress.
Then we passed from that room into another part of the building, which
is used as a girls' school for Jewish children; and it was indeed
pleasant to see their bright happy faces, and to hear their intelligent
answers to the questions put to them. Mr. Stanley told us afterwards
that there is a good work being done in this mission school—for the
children are carefully and prayerfully taught, and, as the mothers
of the next generation, will undoubtedly pave the way for missionary
effort among their nation. The lady who manages the school very kindly
took us to see all the different classes, and we were especially
interested in a large class of little Spanish Jewesses, natives of
Jerusalem, who are being taught in their own language, and who are
learning, little by little and step by step, to know and to love that
Saviour whom their nation have rejected.
We left the school, hoping to visit it again another day, and were
turning round a corner, when Mr. Stanley stopped us, and showed us some
curious old stones in the wall of the street. The stones evidently
formed part of an old archway; and Mr. Stanley told us that it was now
thought to be the most ancient place in all Jerusalem, being supposed,
by those who have studied the matter, to have been part of the old city
of Jebus, where the Jebusites lived before David conquered them, and
turned their old fortress of Jebus into Jerusalem, the City of David.
As we turned into the large bazaar in one of the principal streets in
Jerusalem we had great difficulty in getting on, so narrow was the
street, and so crowded with camels, donkeys, mules, and people standing
before each of the curious little shops, bargaining with the shopman
inside. We were making our way slowly down the street, when I heard a
well-known voice behind us, saying:
"Miss Trafford! This is a surprise!"
Evelyn and I turned round, and I said involuntarily: "Claude! Where
have you come from?"
He told us that he and Alice had been spending a month in Cairo, and
had now come to see Palestine. "But there does not seem to be much to
see here," he said; "it is a wretched place after Cairo!"
"How long have you been here, may I ask?" said Mr. Stanley.
"Just two days now," said Claude; "we think of moving on again
to-morrow."
"Then you will excuse my saying that you have not begun to see
Jerusalem yet," said Mr. Stanley, with the least possible touch of
sarcasm in his voice.
"Oh, I don't know!" said Claude. "It seems a stupid place. I can't
think why so many people come here. But won't you come and see Alice?"
he said, turning to Evelyn. "She will be delighted to see you."
"By the by, I met a friend of yours in Cairo, Miss Trafford," said
Claude, as we walked in the direction of the Damascus Gate, near which
their tents were pitched.
"A friend of mine!" said Evelyn, colouring. "Whom do you mean?"
She thought, and I thought too, that he must have met Donald Trafford;
and Evelyn was considerably relieved by his answer.
"It was Lord Moreton; he was there with a party of his friends, staying
in the same hotel that we were. They were going up the Nile. He told me
that you were travelling in the East, but the East is a wide term, and
I did not expect that we should meet."
"But why do you call Lord Moreton a friend of mine?" said Evelyn,
laughing, though her father looked at her reprovingly.
"I beg your pardon, Miss Trafford," said Claude; "I thought he was a
great friend of yours. I assure you, he talked so much of you and Sir
William in the short time that we were together, that I thought—"
But Claude did not tell us what he thought, for we had to separate
at that moment to let a string of laden camels pass by, and the
conversation took another turn when we were able to walk together again.
Claude and his wife were travelling with a small party under the
escort of a dragoman, and their tents were pitched in the olive grove
just outside the northern gate of the city. Alice was very glad to
see us, and she, Evelyn, and I had a long talk together as we sat in
patriarchal fashion at our tent door, whilst the gentlemen paced about
amongst the olive trees, talking to the dragoman, and referring to
their guidebooks.
"Is it not strange to be in Jerusalem, Alice?" said Evelyn. "I feel as
if I were dreaming."
"Oh, I don't know," said Alice, laughing. "I have not been much
impressed by it. You see, we have become quite accustomed now to
Eastern manners and customs—we saw plenty of them in Cairo; and as for
the old ruins and buildings here, they are not nearly so ancient as the
Pyramids. And there is really very little to be seen, after all, except
by those people who believe the lies that are told them about the holy
sepulchre, and the tomb of the Virgin, and the manger at Bethlehem. Why
actually, in one street, in quite a new wall, our dragoman pointed out
to us a stone which is believed to be the stone that 'would have cried
out' if the children had held their peace! Such nonsense! I have no
patience with it!" said Alice, scornfully.
"Oh yes," said Evelyn, "I quite agree with you about all those absurd
tales. I would not walk a hundred yards to see one of those wonderful
shrines; but, after all, this is Jerusalem, and it was here," she added
in a lower voice, "that our Lord walked, and preached, and died, and
was buried, and rose again!"
"Oh yes, of course," said Alice, carelessly, as if that fact was but of
small importance to her.
"And if we really love Him," said Evelyn, "if He is dearer to us than
any one else, don't you think we must look upon Jerusalem, and those
places He lived in, with a very strange and wonderful feeling?"
Alice looked at Evelyn in astonishment; she had never heard her speak
in that way before, and had no idea how much Evelyn was changed since
she had seen her last. She made no answer, and I think would have
turned the conversation to some other subject if Evelyn had not spoken
first.
"You look surprised, Alice," she said; "you did not expect me to say
that, did you?"
"No, indeed," said Alice, laughing; "I thought that both you and I were
quite free from all sentimental nonsense. I am afraid Miss Lindsay has
been talking you over to her way of thinking."
"Is it nonsense?" said Evelyn, gravely, passing over Alice's last
words. "Because if it is not nonsense, surely it is a great reality!"
"Oh, I don't know," said Alice, lightly; "Claude says the greater part
of religion is nonsense, and I suppose he ought to know; he has studied
the matter, and I have not."
"Oh, Alice," said Evelyn, with tears in her eyes, "if you only knew how
very, very happy I have been lately! I never knew before that it was
possible to be as happy as I am now!"
"That may be," said Alice, "and I am not happy. Sometimes I am
miserable," she said, bitterly, with that grave, sad expression that
I had seen on her face once before; "but still I cannot help agreeing
with Claude, that it is better not to be comforted at all, than to get
comfort out of a lie."
"Oh yes," I said, "Mr. Ellis is quite right in that; but the whole
question turns on this: Is the Bible Satan's lie, or God's truth? It
must surely be either the one or the other."
"Well," said Alice, lightly, "it is too hot to enter into a theological
discussion. I will call the dragoman and get him to send us some
lemonade: our cook makes it splendidly."
"Poor Alice!" said Evelyn, when we were left alone in the tent.
"Yes," I said, "she is very much to be pitied, for she is not
comfortable in her unbelief; she has doubts even about her own
doubting."
Alice came back to tell us that the gentlemen had planned a ride to the
Mount of Olives, and the dragoman had gone to hire horses for the whole
party, so that we might start together from the Damascus Gate as soon
as it began to be a little cooler.
Meanwhile Mr. Stanley guided us to our hotel. We went back a different
way, keeping outside the city, till we reached the Jaffa Gate. Sir
William and I walked first, and Mr. Stanley and Evelyn followed; but as
Sir William was reading his guidebook, which he kept open in his hand
and consulted as he walked along, I had much time for thought, and once
or twice I could not help overhearing the conversation which was going
on behind me.
"So you know Lord Moreton, Miss Trafford?" I heard Mr. Stanley say.
"Yes; papa knows him very well, and he likes him very much," said
Evelyn, laughing.
"And you do not?" said Mr. Stanley, gravely.
"Oh, I don't dislike him," said Evelyn; "only I think him very stupid
and uninteresting."
I thought Sir William must have heard this remark; but if he heard it
he took no notice of it, but appeared to be deep in his book.
"Lord Moreton stupid! Lord Moreton uninteresting!" repeated Mr.
Stanley. "Then excuse my saying, Miss Trafford, that if that is your
opinion, I am sure you do not know Lord Moreton: no one who really knew
him would ever come to such a conclusion."
Mr. Stanley had spoken rather warmly, and Evelyn said in an apologetic
tone: "I am very sorry, Mr. Stanley. I see Lord Moreton is a friend of
yours; I did not know you knew him at all."
"Yes," he said, smiling, "we were college friends, and have been like
brothers ever since. I think I may say that I know Lord Moreton better
than any one else knows him, and the more I know him, so much the more
I respect him and love him."
"He always seems to me to be so shy and awkward," said Evelyn.
"Yes, so he is with strangers," said Mr. Stanley; "he is a highly
nervous man; it is his infirmity, and he knows it; but if he can only
shake off his nervousness, he is quite another man. I wish you could
have heard him address a meeting of undergraduates the other day, you
would not have believed it was the same man."
"Addressing them! On what subject?" asked Evelyn, now more astonished
than ever.
"Oh, about personal religion. Lord Moreton has a wonderful power with
young men. He is not at all nervous when speaking to them. It is you
ladies that make him so shy," said Mr. Stanley, laughing; "you are such
formidable beings!"
"Well, I am surprised!" said Evelyn. "I could not have believed it, if
you had not told me. And he is a real Christian? I am very glad to hear
it."
"Yes," said Mr. Stanley, "he is a man who lives very near to his God;
and his one desire and aim is to bring all under his influence to the
Saviour. Indeed," he added, in a lower voice, "if it had not been for
Lord Moreton, Miss Trafford, I should have been to this day a man of
the world; it was his words and his example which first made me decide
for Christ."
I could hear no more, for we had reached the Jaffa Gate, and had passed
into the noisy square in front of the Tower of David.
Whether Sir William had overheard the conversation I did not know. He
looked very pleased and half amused as it was going on; but perhaps he
may have been reading some interesting anecdote in his guidebook.
Mr. Stanley left us at the Tower of David, and we went to the hotel to
rest until the evening.
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