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LETTERS FROM THE HOLY LAND
AGENTS
AMERICA THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
64 & 66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK
CANADA THE MACMILLAN COMPANY OF CANADA, LTD.
27 RICHMOND STREET WEST, TORONTO.
INDIA MACMILLAN & COMPANY, LTD.
MACMILLAN BUILDING, BOMBAY
309 BOW BAZAAR STREET, CALCUTTA
[Illustration]
[Illustration: THE START
(FRONTISPIECE)]
LETTERS FROM
THE HOLY LAND
BY
ELIZABETH BUTLER
WITH SIXTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR BY THE AUTHOR
[Illustration: colophon]
LONDON
ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK
1906
_Published March 1903
Reprinted July 1906_
TO MY MOTHER
CHRISTIANA THOMPSON
PREFACE
These letters, written to my mother, and published chiefly at her
request, can lay no claim to literary worth; their only possible value
lies in their being descriptive of impressions received on the spot of
that Land which stands alone in its character upon the map of the world.
But the reader will more easily excuse the shortcomings of my pen than,
I hope, he will ever do those of my pencil!
I will make no apologies for the sketches, save to remind the reader
that most of them had to be done in haste. They are necessarily
considerably reduced in size in the reproduction, so as to suit them to
the book form.
It was a happy circumstance for me that my husband's appointment to the
Command at Alexandria should have enabled us to realize this journey. A
four-weeks' leave just allowed of our accomplishing the whole tour. The
wider round that includes Damascus and Palmyra would, of course,
necessitate a much more extended holiday.
The time of year chosen by my husband for our visit was one in which no
religious festivals were being celebrated, so that we should be spared
the sight of that distressing warring of creeds that one regrets at
Jerusalem more than anywhere else. Also the spring season is the
healthiest and most agreeable, and we timed our journey so as to begin
and end it with the moon which beautified all our nights.
We are chiefly indebted to Mr. Aquilina, the very capable and courteous
agent for Messrs. Cook and Son at Alexandria, for the perfect way in
which the machinery of the expedition was managed for us. Without such
good transport and camps one does not travel as smoothly as we did. To
the Archbishop of Alexandria we owe a debt of gratitude for his kind
offices in helping to render our way so pleasant.
ELIZABETH BUTLER.
GOVERNMENT HOUSE, DEVONPORT,
_Christmas Day, 1902_.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
1. Frontispiece
FACING PAGE
2. Jaffa 8
3. The "Cenaculum." Site of the House of the Last Supper 26
4. In the Garden of Gethsemane. Noonday. Looking towards
Valley of Jehoshaphat 30
5. Bethany 32
6. "Ain Kareem," reputed birthplace of John the Baptist,
from roof of Convent of the Visitation 36
7. Solomon's Pools, near Jerusalem, looking towards Dead Sea 38
8. Bethlehem from the Sheepfold, Field of Boaz 42
9. The Plain of the Jordan, looking from "New Jericho"
towards Mount Pisgah 48
10. The Plain of Esdraelon, from foot of Tabor, with
the village of Naim in distance 60
11. Our First Sight of Lake Galilee 62
12. Galilee, looking towards Hermon 64
13. Galilee, looking from near the mouth of the Jordan towards
the "Mount of Beatitudes" and Tabor 66
14. Nazareth at Sunrise 68
15. St. Jean d'Acre 72
16. Ruins of the Crusaders' Banqueting Hall, Athleet 78
_The illustrations in this volume have been engraved and printed by the
Carl Hentschel Colourtype Process_
LETTERS FROM THE HOLY LAND
IN THE ADRIATIC, _28th February 189-_.
My....--I am out on the dark waters of the Adriatic. It is late, and the
people on board are little by little subsiding into their cabins, and I
shall write you my first letter _en route_ for the Holy Land.
If all is well I shall join W. at Alexandria, and we shall have our
long-looked-forward-to expedition from thence. Venice has given me a
memorable "send-off," looking her loveliest this radiant day of spring,
and were I not going where I am going my thoughts would linger
regretfully amongst those lagoons already left so far behind. I watched
to the very last the lovely city gradually fading from view in a faint
rosy flush, backed by a blue-grey mist, and as we stood out to sea all
land had sunk away and the sun set in a crimson cloud, sending a column
of gold down to us on the perfectly unruffled waters. Later on the moon,
high overhead, shining through the mist, made the sea look like blue
air, and quite undistinguishable from the sky. The horizon being lost we
seemed to be floating through space, and the only solid things to be
seen were the moon and our fellow planets and the stars, so that I felt
as though I had passed out of this world altogether. Indeed one does
leave the ordinary world when shaping one's course for Palestine!
PORT SAID, _Sunday, 5th April 189-_.
My....--We are moored at Port Said on board the large Messageries
steamer, having left Alexandria at 5.30 P.M. yesterday on our way to
Jaffa. What a hideous place is this! And this is the Venice that modern
commerce has conjured up out of the sea. Truly typical! As I look at the
deep ranks of steamers lining the Canal mouth, begrimed with coal-dust
and besmirched with brown smoke, I might be at the Liverpool Docks, so
much is the light of this Land of Light obscured by their fumes. On the
banks are dumped down quantities of tin houses with cast-iron supports
to their verandahs. When my mind reverts to the merchant city of the
Adriatic and compares it with this flower of modern commerce I don't
feel impressed with, or in the least thankful for, our modern
"Progress." Last night, when we arrived, a barge of Acheron came
alongside full of negroes in sooty robes, one gnawing a raw beef bone by
the light of the torch in the bows. They were coming to coal us. And,
being coaled, we shall draw light out of darkness, loveliness out of
hideousness, and this evening we shall be taking our course to the
Long-promised Land!
Where shall I finish this? Is it possible that my life-long wish is now
so soon to be accomplished?
No two people, I suppose, receive the same impression of the Holy Land.
None of the books I have read tally as to the feelings it awakens in
travellers. How will it be with me?
RAMLEH, ON THE PLAIN OF SHARON,
_6th April_.
At sunrise this morning the throbbing of the screw suddenly ceased, and
as I went to the port-hole of our cabin I beheld the lovely coast of the
Land of Christ, about a mile distant, with the exquisite town of Jaffa,
typically Eastern, grouped on a rock by the sea, and appearing above
huge, heaving waves, whose grey-blue tones were mixed with rosy
reflections from the clouds. Here was no modern harbour with piers and
jetties, no modern warehouses, none of the characteristics of a seaport
of our time. Jaffa is much as it must have looked to the Crusaders; and
we approached it, after leaving the steamer, much as pilgrims must have
done in the Middle Ages. The Messageries ship could approach no nearer
on account of the rocks, and we had to be rowed ashore in open
boats--very large, stout craft, fit to resist the tremendous waves that
thunder against the rocky ramparts of Jaffa. How often I have imagined
this landing, and have gone through it in delicious anticipation!
Everything was made as pleasant as possible to us, Mr. ---- coming on
board to direct the proceedings, and a Franciscan monk also boarding the
steamer with greetings from Jerusalem, at the request of the Archbishop
of Alexandria.
As our boat was the last to leave the steamer I had time to watch the
disconcerting process of trans-shipping the other tourists who all went
off in the first boats, and nothing I have ever seen of the sort could
compare with what I beheld during those breathless moments. The effect
produced by brawny Syrian boatmen tussling with elderly British and
American females in sun-helmets and blue spectacles, and at the right
moment, when the steamer heaved to starboard and met the boat rising on
the crest of a particular wave, pushing them by the shoulders from
above, and pulling them into the boat from below, was a thing to
remember. (To go down the ladder was quite impossible, so violent was
the bumping of boat against ship.) To miss the right moment was to have
to wait till the steamer which then rolled to port, and the boat which
then sank into the trough of the sea, met again with the next lurch. The
poor tourists said nothing; they hadn't time given them for the feeblest
protest, but they looked quite dazed when stuck down in their seats.
Thanks to our kind friends we had a boat to ourselves and we were not
worked off so expeditiously, being thus able to submit with something
more approaching grace. We had a large crew of rowers, and being only
ourselves, the monk, and Mr. ----, we went light. Three or four times the
helmsman had to be extra vigilant as a huge roller, which hid everything
behind it, came racing in our wake, and lifting us as though we were so
much seaweed, carried us forward with dizzy swiftness. Woe betide that
boat which such a wave should strike broadside on! At each crisis the
"stroke oar" sang out a warning, and redoubled his work, the
perspiration coursing down his face. The whole crew sang an answer to
his wild signal in a barbaric minor. Nothing could be more invigorating
than this experience; one moment when hoisted on the crest of a wave one
saw Jaffa, the Plain of Sharon, and the hills of Judea ahead, and astern
the Messageries steamer and small craft riding at anchor, and the next
moment nothing between one and the sky but jagged and curling crests of
wild billows! On landing at the rocks we were hoisted up slippery steps
in more iron grips. On such occasions it is useless to hesitate--indeed
they don't let you--and as you don't know what is best for you, you had
much better at once surrender your individuality and become a passive
piece of goods if you don't want a broken limb.
We immediately found ourselves in such a picturesque crowd as even my
Egypt-saturated eyes took new delight in, and we passed through the
Custom-house with the agent obligingly clearing all before us, and got
into a little carriage after climbing on foot the steep part of the
town. What a town! No description I have yet read does full justice to
its tumble-down picturesqueness. Those black archways like caverns,
those crooked streets filled with people, camels, and donkeys--all this
to me is fascinating. I am too hurried to pause here long enough to try
and define the difference between life here and life in Egypt. There is
not here the barbarism of the latter's picturesqueness, and one feels
here more the beauty of the true East. I don't see the abject squalor of
Egypt, and the people's dresses are more varied. All this stone masonry
is very acceptable after the brick and mud of Egyptian hovels. Here is
the essence of Asia--there, of Africa. I am afraid these remarks are
crude, but I think the definition is a just one.
As we drove to the little German inn in the outskirts of the town, we
noticed the air getting richer with the scent of orange-flowers, and
soon we passed into the region of the orange-orchards. The trees were
creamy white with dense blossom, and the ripe fruit was dotted about in
the masses of white. The honey they gave us at breakfast was from these
orange-flowers. Here our dragoman, Isaac, met us. I made my first
sketch--the first, I trust, of a series I marked down before leaving
Alexandria. It was of Jaffa, seen over the orange-trees from the inn
garden, and charming it was to sit there in the cool shade, with birds
singing overhead as never one hears them in Egypt. Fragments of
classical pillars stood about and served as seats under the chequered
shade of flowering fruit-trees along the garden paths. The Mediterranean
appeared to my right, and overhead sailed great pearly clouds in the
vibrating blue of the fresh spring sky. I must say I felt very happy at
the reality of my presence on the soil of Palestine!
[Illustration: JAFFA
THE upper part of the town is seen over the tops of orange orchards.
Time, morning.]
At 2 P.M. we started in a carriage like our dear old friend, the
"Vetturino," for Ramleh, our halting-place for the night. How can I put
before you the scenes of loveliness we passed through? The country was a
vast plain of rolling wheat, bordered in the blue distance with the
tender hills of Judea. This land of the Philistines far surpassed my
expectations in its extent, its grand sweep of line, its breadth of
colour and light and shade. It was some time before we came out on the
Plain of Sharon, and we drove first a long way between orange-orchards
bordered along the road by gigantic hedges of prickly pear. Our
Vetturino was drawn by three horses abreast, all with bells, and it was
exhilarating to set out at a fast trot along the easy road in company
with other jingling and whip-cracking vehicles, and escorted by horsemen
in brilliant Syrian costumes dashing along on their little Arabs, and
carrying their long ornamental guns slung across their backs. I had just
one horrible glimpse (of which I said nothing, as of some guilty thing),
just as we started, of a railway engine under some palm-trees. It is
waiting there the completion of the line to Jerusalem to puff and
whistle its beauty-marring career to the Holy City. I am thankful my
good luck has brought me here just in time to escape the sight of a
railway and its attendant eyesores in this sacred land. Why rush through
this little country, every yard of which is precious? An express train
could run in two hours "from Dan to Beersheba"--and what then?
Before emerging on the Plain we passed a white mosque-like building
placed between two cypresses by the roadside, which is supposed to stand
on the site of the place where Peter raised Dorcas to life. Be that as
it may, the white dome and the black-green cypresses are charming. The
soil of the country, now being ploughed in all directions between the
green wheat-fields, is of a rich golden colour, like that I noticed with
such pleasure around Sienna, and makes a pleasing harmony with the vivid
green. The dear olive-tree, beloved of my childhood, is here in its very
home. I hailed its pinky-grey foliage and its hoary old gnarled trunk.
And now for those wildflowers that all travellers who are so well
advised as to come here in spring have told us of. Well may they speak
of them with rapture! As we proceeded they increased in variety, and so
abundant were they that they made tracts and wide regions of colour over
the land. Come here in spring, O traveller! and not in the arid, dusty,
burnt-up autumn. On entering the Plain of Sharon we saw to our left the
town of Lydda, with St. George's Church gleaming in the sunshine. Never
have I seen, even in Ireland, fresher effects of cloud shadow and
sunlight over rolling spaces of waving green corn, and even the sky was
typically West of Ireland. Yet lo! in the foreground strings of camels,
mules, and wild Bedouins and caracoling Bashi-Bazouks! The ploughing was
done by tiny oxen, two abreast, and sometimes a tall camel stalked as
leader. On arriving at Ramleh we walked to the great tower, some
distance out of the town, from the top of which I had my long-looked-for
view of the whole of Philistia--northward to Carmel, westward to the
sea, eastward to the mountains of Judah. As the sun sank the tints
deepened on that lovely plain, and nothing on earth could be more
beautiful than that immense view. I made a hasty water-colour sketch up
there, but what can one do in a few minutes with such a scene? A sad
spectacle awaited us as we reached the German inn. As we walked I had
become absorbed in the contemplation of the limpid sky, where the last
lark was carolling to the sinking sun, and of the mountains whose rosy
flush was fading into the cool greys that already veiled the plain, when
my eyes sinking lower, I beheld in the cold grey of the narrow street,
ranged along a stone wall, a row of lepers waiting for alms. Life has no
sadder detail than the leper. As I approached them with a coin the
nearest of these poor creatures put out a fingerless palm on which I
placed the money, and having only hollow sockets in the place of eyes it
handed it to its neighbour, who, being also eyeless, passed it on to one
in whose fleshless face there lingered the remnant of an eye. This one's
hand lifted the coin to its fragment of eye to see its value, and
deposited it in the recesses of its fluttering rags that only half
veiled the decaying body. A low wail passed along the line, and bony
arms were stretched out in gratitude. And then we go to our _table
d'hôte_ and comfortable beds, and they--where do they sleep? Do they lie
down on those bare bones?
Jerusalem, _7th April 189-_.
My....--We left Ramleh early this brisk, fresh morning, the air full of
scent from the wildflowers. Frère Benoît, the Flemish Franciscan who met
us on board the steamer, came with us, and an English lady who had all
but broken down the day before through the jolting of a shandrydan that
had been palmed off on her and her husband at Jaffa. So with the friar
and Mrs. G---- inside, W. on the box, and Mr. G---- following in the
aforesaid shandrydan with Isaac, we set off in the usual whip-cracking,
shouting, and prancing manner for
JERUSALEM!
The first point of interest I was looking for was Ajalon. As we dipped
down from one of the hills traversed by the road in steep zigzags it
unfolded its fresh loveliness on our left, but we could not see the
actual site of Joshua's battle, as it was too deep in the folds of the
hills. This view was, perhaps, the loveliest of all, and nothing could
be fresher than those cornfields and rich spaces of ploughed earth in
the light that streamed down from so pure a sky. Now and then a single
horseman with the well-known long gun inlaid with mother-of-pearl, and
with his Arab all over tassels, dashed past us, doing "fantasia" to
impress us strangers. The proceeding was never without success as far as
I was concerned.
At 9.30 we left the plain and at once entered the hills of Judea, which
are much more uniformly stony than one would suppose them to be from a
distance. We soon stopped at a wayside khan, about half-a-dozen
Vetturinos being assembled in the yard, and all the horses were rested.
We then began the ascent of the dear Hill Country, fragrant with
memories of Mary on her journey made in haste from Nazareth. I did not
expect such a long and high ascent, having failed to realise from
description the immense altitude of the height of land that holds
Jerusalem. "Things seen are mightier than things heard." The wildflowers
increased in beauty and variety, chief, I think, amongst them being the
crimson anemones with black centre which tossed their gay heads
everywhere in the mountain breeze. Olives and stones, stones and olives
on all sides. Here and there a carob tree or a clump of tamarisk at a
tomb. As we crested the first pass and looked back we saw the plains of
Philistia, with Ramleh white in the sunshine and the sea beyond shining
in a long flash of silver. Before us to the right soon loomed against
the clouds the great tombs of the Maccabees, and away to our left on a
high cone appeared, remote and awful, the "Tomb of Samuel," a dominating
feature over all the land.
As we descended on the other side of the pass we came in sight of Ain
Kareem, the reputed birthplace of John the Baptist, on the side of a
high hill. The words of the Magnificat sounded in one's mind's ear. It
is a grand situation and most striking as seen from the road. At the
bottom of the valley formed by the hill we were descending and the hill
of Ain Kareem runs the dry bed of the brook from which David chose his
smooth stone for Goliath. W. went down and selected just such a smooth
white stone as a memento. At the bottom of the valley we halted at a
Russian khan and I took a little sketch of a bit of hillside and a
pear-tree in blossom. You must have seen this land with "second sight,"
for you have always seen a flowering fruit-tree in your mental pictures
of it at Eastertide and Lady Day. Palestine is essentially the land of
little fruit-trees.
On leaving the Russian khan, where we beheld chromo-lithographs of the
late and the present Czars on the walls, and were interested in the high
Muscovite boots of our host, we had another great ascent, and soon after
reaching the top my feelings became more and more focussed on the
look-out ahead. I saw signs that we were approaching Jerusalem. There
were more people on the road, and a detachment of the Salvation Army was
marching along with a strangely incongruous appearance. Yet only
incongruous on account of the dress, for, morally, those earnest souls
are amongst the fittest to be here. I stood up in the carriage, but W.
from the box saw first. He raised his hat, and a second after I had the
indescribable sensation of seeing the top of the Mount of Olives, and
then the Walls of Zion! It was about three o'clock.
We left the carriage outside the Jaffa Gate, for no wheeled vehicle can
traverse the streets of Jerusalem, and we passed in on foot.
We had first to go to the hotel, of course, a very clean little place
facing the Tower of David. Thence we soon set out to begin our wonderful
experiences.
I had what I can only describe as a qualm when we reached, in but a few
hundred steps, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. It was all too easy and
too quick. You can imagine the sense of reluctance to enter there
without more recollection. I had a feeling of regret that we had not
waited till the morrow, and I would warn others not to go on the day of
arrival. We reached the Church through stone lanes of indescribable
picturesqueness, teeming with the life of the East, and there I saw the
Jerusalem Jews I had so often read of--extraordinary figures in long
coats and round hats, a ringlet falling in front of each ear, while the
rest of the head is shaved. They looked white and unhealthy, many of
them red-eyed and all more or less bent, even the youths. No greater
contrast could be seen than between those poor creatures and the Arabs
who jostle them in these crowded alleys, and who are such upstanding
athletic men, with clear brown skins, clean-cut features, and heads
turbaned majestically. They stride along with a spring in every step.
There are Greeks here, and Russians in crowds, and Kurds, Armenians,
and Kopts--in fact samples of all the dwellers of the Near East, wearing
their national dresses; and through this fascinating assemblage of types
and costumes, most distracting to my thoughts, we threaded our way
to-day, ascending and descending the lanes and bazaars, up and down wide
shallow steps, till we came in front of the rich portal of the Church of
churches. With our eyes dazzled with all that colour, and with the
sudden brilliance of the sunshine which flooded the open space in front
of the façade, we passed in! Do not imagine that the church stands
imposingly on an eminence, and that its proportions can strike the
beholder. You go downhill to it from the street, and it is crowded on
all sides but the front by other buildings. But its gloomy antiquity and
formlessness are the very things that strike one with convincing force,
for one sees at once that the church is there for the sake of the sites
it encloses, and that, therefore, it cannot have any architectural
symmetry or plan whatever, and its enormous extent is necessitated by
its enclosing the chapels over Calvary and the Holy Sepulchre and many
others besides, which the Empress Helena erected over each sacred spot
whose identity she ascertained with so much diligence. It is very
natural to wish that Calvary was in the open air,--lonely, under the sky
that saw Christ suffer on the Cross. But already, in the year 326, St.
Helena found the place of execution buried under mounds of rubbish
purposely thrown upon it; and where would any trace of it be to-day had
she not enclosed it--what with man's destroying acts and the violence of
the storms that have beaten against this rock for nineteen centuries and
more? It was, to begin with, but a small eminence close outside the
walls. On entering the church you discern in the depths of the gloom of
the tortuous interior the rough steep steps cut in the rock that lead to
Calvary, on your right hand. On climbing to the top, groping in the
twilight, you find yourself in a chapel lined with plates of gold and
hung with votive lamps. The sacred floor, which is the very top of
Calvary, is entirely cased in gold, and under the Greek altar is shown
the socket of the Cross, a hole in the rock. Our altar stands to the
proper left of the Greek, which has the post of honour. Descending from
Calvary there is a long stretch of twilight church to traverse before we
come to the sepulchre. Again I had not realised, from the books I have
read, the great distance that separates the two, and, indeed, many
writers in their scepticism have done their best to belittle the whole
thing. I confess that before to-day I was much under the influence of
these writers, but I have now seen for myself, a privilege I am deeply
thankful for. It was an overwhelming sensation to find the spaces that
separate the sites so much vaster than I had expected, and to have, at
every step, the conviction driven home that after all the modern
wrangling and disputing the old tradition stands immovable. It certainly
would be hard to believe that when St. Helena came here the dwellers of
Jerusalem should have lost all knowledge of where their "Tower-hill"
stood in the course of three centuries. She was commissioned, as you
know, by her son the Emperor Constantine, that ardent convert to
Christianity, to seek and secure with the utmost perseverance and care
all the holy sites, and to her untiring labours we owe their
identification to this day. The great central dome of the church rises
above the chapel of the Holy Sepulchre, which chapel stands in the vast
central space, a casket enclosing the rock hollowed out into Our Lord's
Tomb and its ante-chamber. You enter this ante-chamber and, stooping
down, you pass on your hands and knees into the sepulchre itself. On
your right is the little low, rough-hewn tomb, covered with a slab of
stone worn into hollows by the lips of countless pilgrims throughout the
long ages of our era. A monk keeps watch there, and beside him there is
only space enough for one person at a time. I have made many attempts to
tell you my thoughts and feelings during those bewildering moments of my
first visit, but I find it is impossible, and you can understand why.
JERUSALEM, _8th April 189-_.
My....--To-day was exquisitely bright and full of heart-stirring sights
to us. Those who have not been here can scarcely, I think, realise the
sensation of living in daily intimacy with the scenes of Our Lord's
Passion. Think of lying down at night under the shadow of the Cross.
To-day we first visited the Wailing Place of the Jews. Strange and
pathetic sight, these weird men and women and children weeping and
moaning, with their faces against the gigantic stones of the wall that
forms the only remaining portion of the foundation of their vanished
Temple, praying Jehovah for its restoration to Israel; and over their
heads rises in its strong beauty the Moslem Mosque of Omar, standing in
the place of the "Holy of Holies," the varnished tiles of its dome
ablaze with green and blue in the resplendent sun! Jews below, Moslems
above, yet to the Christian, Christ everywhere!
Then we followed the "Via Dolorosa," which winds through the dense town,
starting from the Turkish barracks on the site of Pilate's house. Of
course, I need not say that the surface of Jerusalem being sixty to
eighty feet higher than it was in Our Lord's time, the real Via Dolorosa
is buried far below, but the general direction may be the true one.
Strange to see the Stations of the Cross appearing at intervals on the
walls of alleys crowded with Jews and Mahometans. There are no evidences
of Turkish intolerance in Palestine that I can see! The last stations
are, of course, in the great Church. We followed the walls from Mount
Moriah to Zion and round by Accra to the Damascus Gate, outside which
stands General Gordon's "Skull Hill," which he so tenaciously clung to
as the real Calvary (on account of its resemblance to a gigantic skull),
together with the sepulchre in a garden at the foot of the mound, which
he held was that of Joseph of Arimathea. As far as my eye can tell, the
distance between "Skull Hill" and this sepulchre is much the same as
between Calvary and the sepulchre that tradition hallows. I send you a
sketch that I made on the spot of Gordon's "sepulchre," to show you the
universal plan of these burial-places. You will see three tombs (their
lids are gone) in the inner chamber. At the Holy Sepulchre only Our
Lord's is preserved, tallying with the one I have marked with a cross;
the other two have been cut away.
[Illustration]
I made a very hurried sketch of Jerusalem, with the Mount of Olives and
a glimpse of the mountains of Moab, from the hotel roof. Had I been
perched a little higher I could have shown the head of the Dead Sea. We
visited the Mosque of Omar, one of the great sights of the world. The
immense plateau on which the Temple stood is partly occupied by this,
the second oldest of mosques, and by great open spaces planted with
gigantic and ancient cypresses and by a smaller mosque. The whole group
is surpassingly beautiful, but what thoughts rush into one's mind in
this place! A vision of Herod's Temple fills the whole space for a few
moments with its white and golden splendour, its forest of shining
pinnacles flashing in the sun, and its tiers of pillared courts
culminating in the Holy of Holies. And then the reality lies before us
again--great empty spaces and two pagan mosques. From thence we went out
by St. Stephen's Gate, and looked down on Gethsemane on the opposite
side of the Valley of Jehoshaphat. Very dusty and stony looked that part
of the Mount of Olives, and the excavations for the building of numerous
churches by various sects have greatly spoilt its repose and beauty and
disturbed its seclusion. But one must not complain. All Christians
naturally long to have a place of worship there.
I cannot describe to you the charm of life here. All one's time is
filled to overflowing with what I may call the "holy fascination" of the
place, and though all this continual walking and standing about may be
somewhat fatiguing in a physical sense, the mind never is weary and the
fatigue is pleasant. At night, sound sleep, born of profound contentment
at the day's doings, so full of keen interest without excitement, renews
one's vitality for the succeeding day's enjoyment.
_9th April 189-._
This has been a day of clear loveliness, much hotter and altogether
exquisite. In the morning we first went to the "Cenaculum," the rambling
building erected over the site of the house of the Last Supper, which
St. Helena found and enclosed in a chapel, and also including the
undoubted Tomb of David, jealously guarded from us by the Mahometans.
The Cenaculum stands out lonely and impressive, looking towards the
mountains of Moab and the dim regions to the south of the Dead Sea. I
will show you a sunset sketch of this.
I was not pleased to feel hurried through those rooms and narrow
passages and stairs by the guide in a rather nervous manner, when I
perceived that the reason was the unfriendly looks of the Mahometans who
moved about us, and who evidently resent the presence of Christians so
near the royal tomb. I was too much distracted to realise where I was,
and indeed, not till we get away from the noise and bustle of town life
into the solitudes shall we be able to fix our thoughts as we would
wish.
From the Cenaculum we walked half-way down to the valley through which
the brook Cedron flows, and by very much the same path that Our Lord
must have followed to go to Gethsemane after the Last Supper. Down to
our right was the desolate Gehenna--the Pit of Tophet--now only
inhabited by lepers, and a ghastly hollow it looked. Beyond rose that
hill where once sat Moloch of the red-hot hands, and deep down on the
declivity between us and these landmarks of terror lay the Potter's
Field. When looking from some commanding height
[Illustration: "THE CENACULUM." SITE OF THE HOUSE OF THE LAST SUPPER
THE mass of buildings shown includes, in the centre of the block, the
remains of the Chapel built by the Empress Helena over the site of the
house of the Last Supper. The Tomb of David at the left-hand extremity
is surmounted by a dome. Time, sunset.]
over the city and its surroundings the mind staggers at the thought of
the appalling catastrophes that have burst upon this narrow area--the
human agony that has been concentrated here through so many ages, of
which we read in the Old Testament and in the writings of the early
historians of our era. Twenty-five fierce sieges has this mountain
fastness endured. No other city ever went through such sufferings. If we
could really concentrate our thoughts upon the events that have passed
upon this ground which, from such a standpoint as ours of this morning,
the sight can compass in one sweep of vision, it would be too painful to
be endured. Perhaps if I could see the place on some bleak twilight or
in a sounding thunderstorm I might dimly appreciate the long agony of
Jerusalem, but to-day the April air was full of scents of flowers and
aromatic shrubs, and the bees were humming; there were little
butterflies amongst the anemones, and the lark was in full song. The
very spirit of the Gospel peace seemed to float in the gentle air of
spring. I was glad I could not concentrate my thoughts on the gloomy
side of that wondrous prospect.
From the cave whither St. Peter crept away to weep after the denial of
Our Lord is certainly the finest view of the site of the Temple to be
obtained anywhere. This cave is some distance down the path from the
Cenaculum and the house of Caiaphas, which latter we had also visited,
now a beautiful chapel.
In the afternoon we had our first ride, and went by the old stony track
so often trodden by the Saviour to Bethany. Never shall I forget the
view of the Dead Sea, Jordan, and mountains of Moab which burst upon us
as we crested the summit of the Mount of Olives and passed by the
traditional site of the Ascension. The ride down to Bethany, on the
reverse slope of the Mount, was enchanting, and how solemn all was to
us--the deep black "tomb of Lazarus," the site of the house (now a
ruined chapel) where Jesus so often stayed. We returned by the lower, or
new, road from Jericho, and had at sunset that grand view of Jerusalem
from the lower slopes of Olivet which has so often been painted. We
reserved Gethsemane for another time, but visited the ancient Church of
the Assumption on our way home.
JERUSALEM, _10th April_.
My....--We spent the whole morning in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre,
I remaining alone for an hour after W. left to write letters at the
hotel. There was hardly another soul in that vast building, except a few
priests and the monk who keeps watch over the Tomb. I find I can write
least about this, the climax of what makes Palestine the Holy Land.
At two o'clock I went to Gethsemane, escorted by Isaac, where I sketched
till six. I would have preferred a moonlight sketch of that garden, but
I had to be content with a very hot daylight one. It was blissful
sitting there undisturbed under the old olives whose trunks are as hard
as stone, and I pleased myself with the idea that they might be
offshoots of offshoots of the trees that shaded Our Lord. When Titus had
all the trees around Jerusalem cut down, some saplings may have been
overlooked! My protecting dragoman was somewhere out of sight, and the
Franciscan monks who own this most sacred "God's Acre" were
unobtrusively tending the flowers somewhere about. Insects hummed amid
the flowers, all the little _burrings_ of a hot day were in the air, it
was a place of profound peace. As I returned, towards sunset, and
climbed the steep sides of the Valley of Jehoshaphat up to St. Stephen's
Gate--the shortest way to the City--I looked back towards the scene of
my happy labours, and a sight lay there below me which impressed me, I
am sure, for life. The western sides of the abyss which I was climbing
were already in the shades of night, for twilight hardly exists here,
but the opposite slopes received the red sunset light in its fullest
force, and in that scarlet gleam shone out in intense relief thousands
upon thousands of flat tombstones that cover the bones of countless Jews
who have, at their devout request, been buried there to await, on the
spot, the Last Judgment which they and we and the Mahometans all believe
will take place in that valley. Had I more time I would much like to
make a study of this truly awful place in that last ray of the vanishing
sun, for nothing could be more impressive and more touching, but
higher-standing subjects claim all the time I can spare. My intention is
to use all my sketching moments for scenes connected with Our Lord's
revealed life. I resolutely deny
[Illustration: IN THE GARDEN OF GETHSEMANE. NOONDAY. LOOKING TOWARDS
VALLEY OF JEHOSHAPHAT
PART of the Garden in foreground under old olive-trees and cypresses.
Stations of the Cross along path inside boundary wall. Walls of
Jerusalem and top of Mosque of Omar in background. Time, early
afternoon.]
myself the indulgence of elaborately sketching the people and animals
that seem to call out to the artist at every turn, though I have
outlined some in my note-book. Anywhere else our fellow-travellers at
the hotel would be too tempting in my lighter moments, so comical they
look in their sun-proof costumes. Why such preparations against the
April sun? But one is too "detached" here to be much distracted by their
unspeakable outlines. And, talking of distractions, I really do not find
the drawbacks of Jerusalem, which so many travellers give prominence to
in accounts of their experiences, so very bad. Indeed our life here is
without a single drawback, to my thinking.
_Saturday, 11th April 189-._
The heat is greatly increasing. At 1.30 we drove to Bethlehem with our
friend, Frère Benoît. The hill country we passed through was very stony
and rocky, and only cultivated here and there. Again olives and stones,
stones and olives everywhere. The inhabitants are a splendid race, the
men athletic, the women graceful, though their faces are sadly
disfigured by tattooing. We were on the look-out for the little city of
David long before it appeared, and very beautiful it looked as we beheld
it from a high hill, crowning a slightly lower one amid a billowing sea
of other hill-tops. It has a majestic appearance on its rocky throne,
and its large, massive conventual buildings add greatly to its
stateliness. We passed that pathetic monument, Rachel's Tomb, at the
cross roads, our road leading to the left, and the other diving down to
the right towards Hebron. We ascended Bethlehem's hill and were soon in
its steep, narrow, slippery stone lanes, utterly unfitted for a
carriage. We drove at once to the Franciscan Convent and then to the
Church built over the site of the Nativity, and had the happiness of
kneeling at the sacred spot where the manger stood, which is shown in
the rocky vaults below, and marked with a white star inlaid in the
floor. The cave was rich and lovely with votive lamps and gold and
silver gifts. Little by little the dislike I had to the too precise
localisation of the events we love most in the Bible is disappearing.
Speaking for myself, I find that, on the spot, the mind demands it. But
I know that many people regret it. I only wish that, in their separate
and individual ways, all
[Illustration: BETHANY
The locality of the Tomb of Lazarus is marked by a little domed tower to
the extreme right of the town. Ruins of chapel built over site of house
of Lazarus, Martha, and Mary are in centre of village. The road to
Jerusalem of Our Lord's time passes over the brow of the hill to the
right. Mid-day.]
who come here may feel the happiness that I do.
In a very dark niche in the rocks close to where the white star shone
out in the floor I perceived the figure of a Turkish sentry,
breech-loading rifle and all, standing on his little wooden stool,
motionless. Well, do you know, though my eyes saw him my mind was not
thereby disturbed any more than it was by the Turkish guard at the door
of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. I could not bring my thoughts down
to that figure and the reason of its being there.
We visited St. Jerome's Cave, close by, where he worked, near the scene
of his Redeemer's birth, giving to the world the translation into the
Vulgate of the Holy Scriptures. Then we walked down to the field of
Boaz, full of waving green wheat, in the midst of which stands the
sheepfold surrounded by a stone wall. You must imagine the shepherds
looking _up_ to Bethlehem from there on that Christmas eve. The little
city is seen from the sheepfold high up against the sky to the west
about two miles off. I had only time for a pencil outline of this view,
hoping to colour it on a future occasion. All the country round was
very pastoral, and just such a one as one would expect. Wildflowers in
great quantities, and larks--little tame things with crests on their
heads--enjoying the sun and the breeze, quite unmolested; lovely sweeps
of corn in the valleys, olive-clad or quite grassless hills bounding the
horizon all round--can you see it? How many figures of Our Lady we saw
about the fields and lanes with babes in their arms! Surely the old
masters got their facts about the drapery of their Madonnas from here,
where all the women wear blue and red robes, exactly as the Italian
painters have them.
_Sunday, 12th April._
We went to seven o'clock mass at the Latin Altar on Calvary. We were in
a dense knot of people, who were kneeling on the floor in that dark,
low-roofed chapel, lit by the soft light of lamps hanging before each
shrine. How often we say in our prayers, "Here, at the foot of Thy
Cross." We were literally there. After breakfast with the prior at the
Casa Nova Monastery, which used to be the hostelry for travellers before
the hotel was in existence, we drove with Frère Benoît to the reputed
birthplace of John the Baptist, Ain Kareem in the Judean Hills. I
believe there is considerable doubt as to this site, but there is the
possibility. It was a very poetical landscape that we passed through,
and there were many flowering apricot, pear, and almond trees as we
neared St. Elizabeth's mountain home. We first visited the site of the
Baptist's birth high up in the north end of the village, now covered by
a church, and then we crossed over to the south side of the valley to
St. Elizabeth's country house, also now a chapel, where her cousin
visited her. There is a deep well of most cool crystal water at the side
of the altar in this "Chapel of the Visitation," which belongs to the
Spanish monks. From the roof of the convent over this chapel I made a
sketch of the little town on its hillside planted with cypress trees.
The heat here in this enclosed valley was very great.
_Monday, 13th April._
We were up at five for our drive to Hebron. I longed to see this most
ancient city and that mosque which, without any doubt whatever, covers
the "double Cave of Machpelah" which Abraham bought for his own and his
descendants' burying-place. "There," said Jacob when dying, "they
buried Abraham and Sarah his wife; there they buried Isaac and Rebekah
his wife; and there I buried Leah," and there also they buried Jacob.
Think of it! If we could look into those tombs and see the very bones of
Abraham and Isaac and the mummy of Jacob, for the Bible tells us he was
embalmed according to the manner of the Egyptians. Altogether, though,
our visit to Hebron has rather given me the horrors. Near Rachel's tomb
we left the Bethlehem road and dived down to the "Vale of Hebron," the
heat increasing greatly as we descended. We halted for the mid-day
refection (how more than usually horrid the word "lunch" sounds here!)
and rested in the "shadow of a rock in a thirsty land," where tradition
says Philip met the Eunuch journeying from far-off Meroe on the Upper
Nile. It was a wilderness of stones, where the big lizards of Palestine
were in strong force, panting over the top of every rock, their black
heads and goggle eyes upturned to the burning sky in a very comical way.
Close to Hebron is a nice cool German hostelry, where we rested before
descending to the gloomiest town I have ever seen in the East, with
[Illustration: "AIN KAREEM," REPUTED BIRTHPLACE OF JOHN THE BAPTIST,
FROM ROOF OF CONVENT OF THE VISITATION
Church built over supposed site of Zacharias' and Elizabeth's house to
right of town, high up, where St. John was born. Roof of chapel built
over site of their country house, where Mary visited her cousin, in
foreground.]
some of its bazaars like tunnels, into which scarcely any light could
enter. Here in the gloom we met insolent-looking Moslems and spectral
Jews, their strongly-contrasted figures and faces appearing for a moment
in the twilight as they passed us. And outside it was blinding noontide
sunlight. We went all round the huge mosque that guards the precious
tombs of the patriarchs, but had we attempted to enter we should have
had a bad quarter of an hour from the Mahometans. These sons of the
Bondwoman would stone any son of the Free who would attempt an entry.
There is a little black hole in the wall, which I am sure does not
pierce it through, which we are told we can look through and see the
tombs from outside, but I saw nothing in the hole but the beady eye of a
lizard. We do not feel as though we would care to revisit Hebron.
We drove back to the German khan which was full of exhausted Americans
who had also returned from the oven of Hebron. Most of them had been
trying to combine botany with Biblical research, and near many of the
figures that lay prone on the divans I saw Bibles and limp flora on the
floor.
Towards evening we drove from this place of rest a long way back on the
road to Jerusalem, but not far short of Bethlehem we came in sight of
our camp! How charming and inspiriting that sight was--three snowy tents
pitched by the Pools of Solomon under the walls of a Crusader Castle,
with some fifteen saddle and baggage animals picketed close by, and the
dear old Union Jack flying from the central tent! I was delighted at the
fact that our camp life was to begin that night. Everything struck us as
in excellent order, our horses, saddles and bridles, the tents, the
servants and all. Those Pools of Solomon are three immense reservoirs of
water which the Wise King made to supply the Temple at Jerusalem.
Myriads of frogs were enlivening the evening air with their
multitudinous croakings which increased to deafening proportions as
night closed in. I took a hasty sketch. Much hyssop grows here,
"Asperges me, Domine, hyssopo et mundabor."
_14th April._
I was greatly pleased with my first night under canvas. To have grass
and stones and little aromatic herbs for a bedroom carpet was a
[Illustration: SOLOMON'S POOLS, NEAR JERUSALEM, LOOKING TOWARDS DEAD SEA
Shows the central one of three reservoirs which are built one below the
other on a slope inclining towards valley of the Dead Sea.
Measurements of Solomon's Pools:--Upper one, 380 ft. by 236 ft., 25 ft.
deep; middle one, 423 ft. by 250 ft., 39 ft. deep; lower one, 582 ft. by
207 ft., 50 ft. deep.]