THE CITY OF JONAH
I have come up out of the land of Egypt, out of the Israelitish “house of
bondage,” and am to-day on the edge of the Promised Land. I am at Jaffa,
the ancient Joppa, and the port for the Holy City. When Jacob went down
from the highlands of Samaria to the Land of Goshen to meet Joseph, his
journey took several weeks. I made the trip in the opposite direction by
land and sea in less than a day.
I took the express train at Cairo and in four hours was landed at Port
Said, at the mouth of the Suez Canal, where I got a steamer which brought
me to Jaffa. The whole way was through the lands of the Bible. We struck
the canal at Ismailia, about midway of the Isthmus of Suez, and thence
rode northward along its banks to Port Said.
Our steamer was crowded with pilgrims from Russia, Egypt, and north
Africa. There were many Americans, French, and Germans travelling first
class, and hundreds of Syrians and Egyptians going steerage. The Russian
pilgrims were particularly interesting to me. Old men and old women, with
honest faces full of intelligence and goodness, they held their religious
services all over the third-class portion of the ship, and I spent two
hours watching them as one after another they turned their faces toward
the Holy City and prayed, crossing themselves, and now and then getting
down upon their knees and bumping their heads against the deck in their
worship. They were curiously dressed and many of them wore long fur
coats. Some had high fur hats and looked as if they had just stepped out
of one of Tolstoi’s novels. I was especially impressed with the strength
of character shown in their faces and with their magnificent physique.
If all of Russia’s millions are of the same mould as those who make the
pilgrimage to Jerusalem, they will some day prove to the world that there
is in them as good stuff as ever made history or built up a civilization.
The women, with their strong, motherly faces made heroic by toil and
privation, were equally as striking as the men. They were better looking
than any other peasant women I have ever seen, and the old saying of the
Greeks came to me as I looked at them: “If strong be the frame of the
mother, her sons shall make laws for the people.”
As the ship approached the Holy Land the people broke out into prayers,
and in some cases into tears. It is a religious pilgrimage for them and
they think, I doubt not, that in making it they are coming nearer to
heaven.
We had our first view of the shores of Palestine at seven o’clock in the
morning, after a night on the steamer. We had been awakened at six with
the cry that we were nearing shore, but this was a ruse of the captain to
get breakfast out of the way before landing.
When I came up on deck nothing but the sea was in sight. The sun was
about two hours high and the sky, a light blue with long streaks of
fleecy white drawn like a half-veil over it, curved down into the ocean
at the eastern horizon. As I looked I saw two lines of hazy gray rise up
out of the water, which rippled in sapphire wavelets, caught by the sun.
The first line was the sandy beach that edges the rich plains of Sharon
and the second the wall of smoky gray which marks the hills of Judea or
the highlands of Palestine. As we came nearer, these lines increased
in size, until the first turned to dazzling white sand, out of which a
little later the wooded green strip marking the port of Jaffa came into
view. Nearer still we could see the shipping in the harbour, and above
and behind it the walls of this, one of the oldest towns of the world.
We get some idea of the age of Jaffa from the story of Jonah; for the
Bible says that it was from here Jonah took passage upon the ship from
which he was thrown into the sea into the mouth of the whale. He remained
in the whale’s belly for three days, during which time he prayed to the
Lord, and the Lord spake to the whale, whereupon he was vomited out upon
dry land. Jonah was born about eight hundred and fifty years before
Christ. He was a baby when, according to some authorities, Homer was
telling the story of the Iliad, and a hundred years had yet to elapse
before the founding of Rome. I am not sure as to the exact spot where
Jonah was taken up by the sailors and thrown into the sea, but he is
said to have been buried not far from Jerusalem, and there are dragomans
who will show you his tomb. Ever since Jonah’s time sailors have been
superstitious about having preachers along, thinking that such passengers
bring bad luck to a ship.
[Illustration: These brickmakers work under a taskmaster to-day just as
the Israelites toiled under the lash in this spot nearly four thousand
years ago. Here was built Bubastis, the ancient Egyptian city sacred to
the worship of the Cat]
[Illustration: We go ashore in small boats at the city of Jonah, which
rises almost straight out of the water—but we see no whales]
[Illustration: The best view of Jaffa is had from the roof of the House
of Simon the tanner where St. Peter had the vision which led to the
preaching of Christ to the Gentiles]
The harbour of Jaffa is one of the worst in the world. It is almost
always rough and often so much so that it is impossible to land. Upon
our arrival there was such a swell that the boats which took us ashore
bobbed up and down and the waves soaked our baggage.
As to Jonah himself and his narrow escape, one of our preachers on board
has quoted a new version of why he and the whale parted company:
“I threw up Jonah,” said the whale,
Who’d lately come to town;
“I threw up Jonah,
For I could not keep a good man down.”
In coming in I looked for whales. There were none in sight, although I
am told they are still to be seen in the Mediterranean. In their place,
however, were many jellyfish of an opalescent blue. These fish were as
big as a football and of the shape of a mushroom. There were hundreds of
them floating about and bumping against the hull of our ship as we lay at
anchor.
Besides the story of Jonah there are many well-authenticated facts about
Jaffa which make it interesting. It has always been the chief port for
the Holy Land. It was at one time owned by the Phœnicians, and later,
when Solomon built the temple, it was here that the timber used in its
construction was landed. Most of this was cedar which came from the
forests of Lebanon several hundred miles up the coast. The logs were
dragged down the mountains and thrown into the sea at Tyre and Sidon.
They were there made into rafts and towed down to Jaffa, whence they were
carried up to Jerusalem by camels and men.
Jaffa was an important port in the days of the Crusades, and was fought
for again and again. At one time its walls were overthrown by Saladin,
but a little later they were rebuilt by Richard the Lion-hearted, the
King of England, who came here in a vain attempt to rescue the Holy
Sepulchre from the hands of the Turks. In addition to all this there
is a tradition that Andromeda, the beautiful daughter of the mythical
king of this country, was here chained to the rocks in order that she
might appease a huge sea serpent which threatened to eat up the people.
While so imperilled she was rescued by Perseus, who killed the monster
and married her. In Pliny’s time the historians state that the chains
by which Andromeda was bound to the rocks were still to be seen, and
that the bones of the sea serpent were carried to Rome and placed upon
exhibition there.
The Jaffa of to-day stands upon a bluff washed by the Mediterranean Sea.
The city is built right on the rocks, with its yellow, white, and blue
houses coming down to the cliff edge. They rise up the steep sides of the
bluff which makes a wall cutting off the view of the country behind. At
the south of the bluff, as far as one can see, are white sands. At the
north are orange groves and then more sand.
As we left the ship we came down a gangway and were lifted into the
boats. The third-class and steerage passengers were hung over the sides
of the deck of the steamer by the arms, and dropped down into the
boats, twelve or more feet below. Some of the women screamed as they
fell, making the rocks reëcho with their cries as though the beautiful
Andromeda were still chained there. We had no trouble with the customs,
largely, I believe, because our dragomans had given the officers a
liberal amount of _baksheesh_. The examination was short, and within half
an hour after landing we were comfortably housed at the Jerusalem Hotel.
I mention this hotel because I found it was kept by a character who was
for a long time our American consular agent. His name is Hardegg, and
he spices his food with a religious doctrine of his own kind. The hotel
rooms are not numbered 1, 2, 3, etc., but are named after the sons of
Israel and the various Old Testament prophets. Each of them contains a
book which Hardegg has compiled entitled “Bible Pills.” It is composed of
texts from the Scriptures fitted to one’s daily life.
The city of Jaffa has normally about fifty thousand inhabitants of whom
the majority are Mohammedans and the rest Christians and Jews. It has
considerable trade and is rapidly growing. The rich plains of Sharon at
the back furnish sesame, grain, and olive oil, while the highlands of
Judea and Samaria produce wool, just as they did in the times of our
Saviour. All about the town are orange groves the fruit of which is
shipped to all parts of the Mediterranean. The oranges are almost the
shape of a lemon, but they are of a great size and sweet as honey. They
are packed up in boxes at the groves and carried down to the harbour on
the backs of camels. I met the caravans of these huge beasts swaying
along as they made their way to the steamers.
I was taken through the native quarters of Jaffa by a young Syrian named
Moses. We went together through streets so narrow and winding that
carriages could not enter them, and at times we were altogether shaded
by the houses, the roofs of which almost touched overhead. We entered
several of the dwellings. Each consisted of but one room facing a court
where the men, women, and children were herded together.
The house of Simon the Tanner was destroyed some centuries ago, but
another house, which is probably of the same character, stands on
its site, and tanning is still done in the neighbourhood. At least,
it seems so by the smells. This house is now used as a second-class
inn. It is a rocky structure, built high up over the sea, with steps
outside which lead to the second story and roof. I climbed to the top,
and there saw about the same view as did St. Peter. In front of me the
blue Mediterranean stretched out toward the west. At the north were the
glistening sands reaching toward the ruins of Cæsarea and the foothills
of Mount Carmel, while at the south were the hills near which stood
Askalon. It was here that St. Peter had that wonderful dream, in which he
beheld all the beasts of the world let down from heaven in a sheet, in
order that he might eat of them. You remember that he refused, saying:
“Not so, Lord! for I have never eaten anything that is common or unclean.”
And then came a voice which said: “What God hath cleansed that call not
thou common.”
It was these words that first led to the preaching of the Gospel to
the Gentiles, bringing about the conversion of Cornelius, the Roman
centurion, and later on the preaching of Christ to all the world.
As my guide refreshed my biblical memory with this story, he told me of
an American who had visited this place with him last week. Said Moses:
“This American was a funny man, and it seemed to me a foolish one. He was
not satisfied with seeing this house, but he asked me to show him the
vision that St. Peter saw, and demanded to know what had become of the
sheet. He said he did not think he ought to pay me unless I could show
him the vision, but I told him that I could not do that unless he had St.
Peter’s heart, and I was sure that he had not.”
[Illustration: The men of Palestine are very strong and carry amazing
loads on their backs. Both men and women think little of walking twenty
miles a day. Many are too poor to keep even a donkey]
[Illustration: Impenetrable hedges of giant cactus bushes intermingled
with thorn are often used as fences to separate land holdings. One seldom
sees a man carrying a water jar, for that is “women’s work” in the Holy
Land]
This American was probably facetious, but his questions are not unlike
those of many of the tourists whose ignorance and superstition surpass
belief. Many of them credit the most extravagant stories of every guide,
and go about kissing spots which they imagine to be hallowed by their
connection with the Bible, but of whose authenticity no one knows.
There is one thing I must not forget about Jaffa, and that is that here
was born the modern sewing bee, I might almost say the Woman’s Missionary
Society. You have all heard of Dorcas, the queen of the needle, who was
raised from the dead by St. Peter. She was noted for the garments she
had made for the poor, and at her funeral the people gathered round and
showed specimens of the needlework she had sewed and hemmed and stitched
for them.
Dorcas lived two or three miles outside Jaffa on a hill which has a
commanding view of the country for miles around. It overlooks the sea
and land, including thousands of acres of orange groves and gardens
containing all kinds of fruits. The site of her house is now occupied
by a Russian Greek Catholic Church and a tomb has been erected over her
grave hard by.
I drove out to the place in a carriage, winding my way in and out through
orange groves and up the hill to the church. Here I met a Russian priest,
who was acquiring merit by guarding the bones of the saint in whose
honour prayers are said daily. It was with him that I visited the tomb.
It is of stone and is roofed by a dome, the whole being covered with
plaster. There is a door at the front, and by descending several steps
one can see the piece of mosaic which covers the spot where Dorcas lies.
There are catacombs to the right and left containing the bones of saints,
and over the whole rise magnificent trees.