A Trip to the Orient Part 15

The streets of the Mohammedan Quarter are filthy; those of the Jewish Quarter are worse.

"Are these alleys ever swept or cleaned?" inquired one of the disgusted visitors.

"Oh, yes!" answered the guide, "the city, being built on the hills, has a natural drainage. Whenever there is a heavy rain the flowing water washes the streets."

"Well," said the visitor, "the city of Constantinople has the reputation of being the filthiest city in Europe, but it has a brigade of canine street cleaners to a.s.sist the rainfalls in cleaning the thoroughfares.

If the city of Jerusalem were in Europe, it could easily claim the leading place in respect to filth; for dogs are few here and heavy rains do not appear to be frequent."

The tramp through these quarters was not agreeable to any of the senses.

The ears were annoyed with the jargon of many dialects; the harsh voices of the natives, the loud exclamations of the dealers, and the whining cries of the beggars for backsheesh. The eyes were offended by the sight of the crowds of dirty beggars, who stretched out hands in appeal and tried to clutch the garments of the tourists with their dirty fingers, until disgust drove away all feelings of pity. The odors from the foul thoroughfares, from the messes of soft cheese and mixtures of eatables offered for sale, from the discarded and decaying cauliflower leaves under neath the stalls, from the pipes of Turkish tobacco, and from the donkeys and unbathed human beings with whom the tourists came in close contact, were inhaled with loathing. The uneven, stone-cobbled paving of the narrow streets without sidewalks, the steps up and down the grades, and the slippery condition of the muddy surface when wet caused weary feet.

"I will not give away another piaster," exclaimed a lady whose purse had been drawn upon frequently during our tramp. "I never met such disagreeable beggars. There were many beggars in other cities, but they did not whine and display their dirty rags so disgustingly as these do.

I pitied those miserable lepers at the gate, but when I threw them some money they crowded around and tried to touch me with their diseased hands, instead of keeping at a distance and crying, 'Unclean! Unclean!'"

The beggars were the most objectionable feature of the city; they persisted in following visitors and it was almost impossible to drive them away. When rid of one lot, others soon took their place. Repulsive cripples insisted on calling attention to their deformities; sore-eyed children clamored for a.s.sistance; and little tots with dirty, fly-covered faces, shrilly prattled "Backsheesh." The streets were full of these wretched creatures; they congregated near the sacred places and there the clamor was so annoying that the tourists had little opportunity for contemplation until they were inside the buildings and away from the beggars' entreaties.

[Ill.u.s.tration: PILGRIMS FROM EVERY QUARTER OF THE GLOBE.]

We made several visits to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in order to observe the people; to view quietly and leisurely the gorgeous decorations, especially those in the Greek Chapel where each visit disclosed new beauties; and to see the jewels, precious gems, and pictures encircled in diamonds, in the Chapel of Golgotha.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Pa.s.sED OUT THROUGH THE DAMASCUS GATE.]

During one of these visits we sat for awhile on a bench by the wall of the church not far from the entrance to the Sepulchre. It was interesting to note the diversity of costumes and to watch the difference in the behavior of the tourists and pilgrims of the various nationalities.

[Ill.u.s.tration: I. FIELDS WERE COVERED WITH STONES.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: II. FAR BELOW LAY THE VALLEY OF JEHOSHAPHAT.]

"Notice that Russian group," said a companion as a party of Russian pilgrims entered the church.

These people from the North, long-haired, heavy-bearded, long-booted, heavy-coated men, and short-frocked, heavy-shod women had come there, we could plainly see, on a holy pilgrimage to the tomb of their Savior, believing and trusting in the reality of everything they saw. At the Stone of Unction they prostrated themselves and kissed the stone slab, and as they rose we could see the s.h.a.ggy-bearded men wiping away the tears with their rough hands. Then, with uncovered heads, they slowly approached the entrance to the Sepulchre, bowed down, crossed themselves, knelt inside, and after kissing the marble tomb, backed out, bowing and crossing themselves until well away from the tomb.

"The people of other nationalities outwardly show more reverence for the sacred places than do those of our own country," commented my companion.

"The guards have just censured that group of Americans on the other side of the room. I could not hear what was said, but the actions of the guards spoke louder than words, and I noticed that the loud talking ceased at once."

The party of Americans came laughing and chatting toward the Sepulchre and entered the tomb without any appearance of reverence in their manner,--a striking contrast to the devout Russian pilgrims. Other Americans, however, following, entered the tomb silently, and came out with a look of awe upon their faces. One of these told us that he had placed some postal cards and letters on the tomb to be blessed by contact with it before mailing them to his friends. Another had taken some bunches of flowers and laid them on the tomb for the same purpose before pressing them for souvenirs. A party of Germans stood near us for awhile, apparently arguing in low tones over some statement of the guide, and then quietly and with uncovered heads advanced and entered the Sepulchre. Some Italians knelt for a long time before the door, and Africans, Greeks, and natives of countries unknown to us, bowed or crossed their foreheads or b.r.e.a.s.t.s before the entrance. No other nationality, however, showed such zeal and intensity of feeling as did the Russian peasants.

On Sat.u.r.day afternoon we visited the Church of the Holy Sepulchre to be present at the special service held on that day. We found that the number of guards at the door had been doubled, and that companies of armed Turkish soldiers had been stationed within to preserve order in the a.s.sembled throng of sight-seers and wors.h.i.+pers and to keep a pa.s.sage-way open through which the expected processions might pa.s.s.

Pus.h.i.+ng our way through the crowd we obtained a good position behind some Syrian women and children who, attired in gala costumes, held unlighted candles in their hands. At the Place of Sepulchre the oriental lamps above the door and the candles in the huge candlesticks had been lighted for the special service, brilliantly illuminating the marble front of that small building and bringing into clear relief every detail of the carved ornamentation. In the Greek Chapel the golden lamps and the candles at the altar were burning, and the chapel was ablaze with reflected glory.

"They are coming," whispered some one as the tramping of feet on the stone floor was heard.

A procession of Greek priests in gorgeous garments, swinging censers of smoking incense and bearing aloft a golden cross, marched to the Sepulchre, made obeisance there, then proceeded slowly around the building several times and entered the Greek Chapel where a short service was held. After the Greeks had left the building, a procession of Armenian priests appeared clad in black silk robes and peculiar looking black silk hoods draped over their heads. They were led by a venerable Patriarch arrayed in a magnificent embroidered robe. The Patriarch knelt and kissed the Stone of Unction, then the procession marched singing to the Sepulchre, which they entered, two priests at a time. After this part of the ceremony was concluded the priests marched singing three times around the room, while a bell in the gallery merrily clanged an accompaniment. When the Armenians had withdrawn, a procession of Roman Catholics entered singing. The chanting was accompanied softly by an organ in an adjoining chapel. The censer bearers waved their smoking bowls until the whole place was fragrant with the odor of the incense. Tonsured monks with sandaled feet, in gowns of brown, girt with hempen cord; censer bearers, cross bearers, brazier bearers, and choir boys in white embroidered surplices and skirts of scarlet; priests in black; bishops in purple; and higher dignitaries in capes of fur and long-trained robes,--all these marched round and round bearing lighted candles and chanting the ritual to the strains of the organ, and then proceeded toward the Latin Chapel. Our Syrian neighbor and her children lighted their candles and joined other wors.h.i.+pers with candles in the rear of this procession, and we followed to the Chapel where all knelt for service.

[Ill.u.s.tration: DAVID STREET IS ONLY HALF A MILE IN LENGTH.]

Palestine appeared to us to be a land where history and tradition were so curiously mixed that it was difficult to know where history ended and tradition began. During our tramps around the city of Jerusalem and its vicinity the guides pointed out the spring where the Virgin Mary washed the clothes of the infant Jesus in the same way that we saw other women in the East was.h.i.+ng clothes on the banks of public streams; the hill of evil counsel where the avaricious disciple had been tempted by gold to betray his Master, and the field where the horror-stricken traitor ended his life; the place just without the Gate of St. Stephen where the sainted Stephen knelt and prayed for his persecutors until the stones cast by the infuriated Jews crushed out his life; the spot where the Apostle James was beheaded, commemorated by the church of St. James which now stands on that location; the large room outside the Zion Gate in which the Lord washed the disciples' feet and partook of the Last Supper; the tomb of the wayward, long-haired Absalom, and the mausoleum that covers the resting-place of his father, King David; the footprint of Jesus in the rock and the hole made by His staff on the Mount of Olives; the imprints of the Savior's feet in the rocky floor made during the time of the scourging; the site of the house in which the Virgin lived with the disciple John after the Crucifixion.

Palestine was noted in olden times as a land flowing with milk and honey. At the Casa Nova we drank of the milk, the milk of the black-haired goats that fed along the hillsides, and ate of the honey, which was of delicious flavor. The Syrian waiters who served our meals and also cared for our bedrooms were picturesquely dressed in long gowns of blue striped material falling to their ankles, and encircled with bright sashes, and these men at all times, whether making beds or serving tables, wore on their heads the red fez of Turkish subjects. The managers of the Hospice, the Franciscan monks, wore the garb in which the monks of that order are always seen, brown gown, rope girdle, rosary with pendant cross, and sandals.

On Sunday a cold rain fell during the day, making it unpleasant for sight-seeing and confining the travelers to the house during most of the day.

"How disappointing this is to be kept in the house by the rain,"

exclaimed a discontented tourist while watching the rain drops glide down the window-pane.

"Have you thought," said another who was busily engaged with guide-book and pencil, "that until to-day not one unpleasant day has interfered with our trip? The temperature has been neither uncomfortably warm nor disagreeably cold, but just delightful for the exertion of sight-seeing."

The tourists having made a request for some heat in the house, one of the gowned Arab servants carried a brazier into the reception room, placed a handful of charcoal in it and lighted a fire. As we gathered around the little fire trying to warm our hands, one could realize the scene many centuries ago, in the Palace of Caiaphas, when the soldiers coming in at midnight from the cold hills, kindled a fire in the midst of the hall, and Peter, s.h.i.+vering from cold and fear, joined the group around the brazier to warm himself.

"I have been trying for the past three days," remarked an elderly clergyman, "to realize that these bare hills were once 'a land flowing with milk and honey,' producing 'grapes, pomegranates, and figs' in abundance. To-day I have been thinking of the changes that the tempests of a few short years have made in the hills of my own native state, New Hamps.h.i.+re, since the rapacious lumber-men have been denuding our mountains of the forests. There, the unprotected soil is being washed away by the heavy rains, gulleys have been formed, the brooks have diminished or dried up, and the part of our once beautiful White Mountains that has been cut over is desolate indeed. Now, since thinking of the changes that have occurred in a decade at home. I can more fully realize the changes that centuries have made here.

"Looking backward," said he, "I can see more clearly in my mind the picture that David saw with the eye of an artist, and described with the heart of a poet, when these bare, gray, rocky, treeless hills were crowned with forests that protected the soil from the beating storms; when these slopes, now furrowed with gulleys and spread with stones, were covered with orchards and clad with verdure, where the flocks might 'lie down midst pastures of tender gra.s.s;' and when these dried up waterways were purling brooks, where the flocks were 'led beside the waters of quietness.' I believe that David's description of this country was a true picture of the land as it appeared then. 'Thou waterest the ridges thereof abundantly; thou settlest the furrows thereof; thou makest it soft with showers; thou blessest the springing thereof. The pastures are clothed with flocks; the valleys also are covered over with corn; they shout for joy, they also sing.'"

[Ill.u.s.tration: WHEN THESE BARE HILLS WERE COVERED WITH ORCHARDS AND CLAD WITH VERDURE.]

"In those days the vicinity of Jerusalem was beautiful with palm trees,"

continued the clergyman, "and the City of Palms was but fifteen miles away. Now the City of Palms is a squalid, unhealthful village, and in the vicinity of Jerusalem it is difficult to obtain a leaf of the palm."

The low spirits caused by the drizzling rain during our last evening in the Sacred City were increased by telegraphic news received from Jaffa.

The telegram stated that the weather was stormy and the waves running high, and that if the sea did not subside we might not be able to embark. This information caused considerable anxiety among the timid members of the party and many surmises were made as to the developments of the following day. As usual, all the arrangements for our departure had been carefully made in advance by our managers. We were notified that the Syrian bell boys would waken us at five o'clock, and our baggage must be ready at five-thirty; breakfast would be served at six o'clock; the carriages would be at the Jaffa Gate at six-thirty; and the train would leave the Jerusalem station at seven.

CHAPTER XIII.

CAIRO AND THE PYRAMIDS.

On Monday morning, after enjoying our usual breakfast at the Casa Nova of boiled eggs, rolls and pure honey, good coffee, and delicious oranges, we bade farewell to our tonsured hosts and the staff of gowned attendants. The carriages were waiting near the Jaffa Gate to convey us to the station. The train moved off promptly at the appointed hour, and looking backward, we took our farewell glimpse of the Tower of David and the yellow walls of the Holy City.

During the three hours' ride to Jaffa the threatening clouds pa.s.sed away, the sun re-appeared, the rough winds changed to soft breezes, and our depressed spirits rose correspondingly. By the time the orange groves in the suburbs of Jaffa came into sight, the tourists were in a gay and cheerful humor. But when we arrived at the pier of Jaffa, we discovered that the sea still felt the effects of the gale. The surf was rolling high and the angry waves were breaking violently over the ugly-looking rocks in the harbor, hiding them for an instant from view and sending the snowy spray high into the air. As we looked out toward the Moltke riding at anchor a mile away, many of the gay faces became sober. The boatmen holding the tossing boats to the pier urged us to embark.

"But timorous mortals start and shrink to cross the narrow sea, And linger trembling on the brink and fear to launch away"

"Oh, I cannot venture! Go without me! Leave me behind!" exclaimed one of the ladies, trembling and almost fainting through fear. "Those black rocks momentarily emerging and disappearing seem like the heads of terrible monsters waiting to devour us as soon as we come within their reach."

"Do not be alarmed," said one of the officials on the pier, encouragingly. "The sea, as you say, has a threatening look, but I a.s.sure you that if there were any danger we would not permit you to attempt the pa.s.sage. These Syrian boatmen have been carrying pa.s.sengers for years and know every rock in the harbor. They brought the Damascus tourists from the Moltke without mishap this morning when the sea was rougher than now. Trust the boatmen and you will soon be safely on board the steamer."

As our boat in its pa.s.sage over the stormy billows plunged downward into the trough of the sea, and horizon, s.h.i.+p, and land were hidden from view, we thought that the uplifted, on-coming crests of the waves would engulf the boat beneath them; but, expertly handled by the trained rowers, the craft rose with each immense surge and safely pa.s.sed the breakers. The Syrian boatmen, who had been continually chanting their hymns to Allah while plying their oars, suddenly stopped singing.

"Bachshees.h.!.+ Backshees.h.!.+" they cried, ceasing to row, while one of them, doffing his fez, pa.s.sed it around the boat for contributions. The pa.s.sengers, grateful for safety, dropped their coins into the fez; again the oars were put in motion, the chant was resumed, and in a few minutes the boats were alongside the vessel.

[Ill.u.s.tration: SHE WAS WAs.h.i.+NG CLOTHES IN THE Ca.n.a.l.]

Then came the difficulty of getting on board the steamer; for the little boat lay underneath the platform at the foot of the s.h.i.+p's ladder, tossed by the billows. As each heaving swell, however, bore the boat upward, two st.u.r.dy seamen on the platform, reaching down, grasped a pa.s.senger's arms and drew him up while the boatmen a.s.sisted from underneath. In this way, one with each wave, the tourists safely embarked. The pa.s.sage from the pier to the steamer affected the tourists in various ways: many were frightened, notwithstanding the a.s.sertion of the official that the dangers were more apparent than real; others were exhilarated by the tossing waves and enjoyed the thrilling experience.

"I was so interested in watching the muscular development of the boatmen as they pulled at the oars, and in admiring the dexterity and skill with which they managed the boat, that I did not think of danger," remarked a man who had been stroke oar on a college crew.