Chapter 10

FROM THE BOSPORUS TO PALESTINE.

The program posted for Saturday, February twenty-eighth, announced that the Moltke would leave Constantinople at nine o'clock in the morning for a trip to the Black Sea, a distance of thirty-five miles. As we sailed up the Bosporus, which narrows and widens, twists and turns, a succession of picturesque scenes opened up before us. Scattered along the shores, which for fifteen or twenty miles beyond Constantinople may be considered suburbs of that city, white marble palaces of the rulers, summer residences of the foreign ambassadors, and villas of the wealthy Turks were seen interspersed with modern villages and ruined walls and castles of past ages. Pretty frame summer houses, groves of dark green cypress, gardens, boat-houses, and mosques added interest to the views.

"The sail up the Bosporus reminds me of one taken on the Hudson River, but the scenery on the banks is Oriental instead of modern," remarked one of the tourists.

"The old castles and ruined walls, and the legends connected with them, suggest the Rhine," commented another.

At the water's edge on the Asiatic side, a few miles from the city, we saw the beautiful white marble Beylerbey Palace, built in the year 1866 by Abdul-Aziz, the predecessor of the present Sultan, as a residence for his harem. For their pleasure he surrounded the palace with groves and gardens and established a menagerie in the grounds. About eight miles from the city all eyes were turned toward a hill on the European shore, where, above a cluster of buildings, the Stars and Stripes floated in the breeze.

"That is the American College, which is doing good work in Turkey. It was founded by Mr. A. Robert of New York, and is known as the 'Robert College,'" said the guide.

As our steamer passed the college, the Turkish students from roof, windows, and campus waved hats, handkerchiefs, and flags, and cheered energetically, and the tourists waved to them in return. Just beyond the college we passed an old town surrounded by ancient towers and time-worn walls.

"This ancient stronghold," said the guide, "was known as the Citadel of Europe. The fortress commanded the Strait and enabled the Sultans of four centuries ago to levy toll on all passing vessels. At this place, where the Bosporus is only about half a mile wide, the Persian ruler, Darius, with his army crossed on a bridge of boats to invade Greece. Here also the Crusaders crossed on their way to free the Holy Land from the clutch of the Saracens."

The Moltke sailed into the Black Sea merely far enough to sweep around in a wide circle and then, returning through the Bosporus, passed by Constantinople and entered the Sea of Marmora.

"It seems like parting with a dear old friend," said a tourist as we looked back on the fading domes and waved farewell to mosque and minaret. "We have seen so much of the city in so short a time. Every hour has been used to the best advantage in the Turkish capital."

Sunday, March first, was not to be a day of rest for the tourists; for the Moltke had arrived at Smyrna at daylight and was to remain in the harbor of that city only until dark.

The principal reason for a day's stay at Smyrna was to give an opportunity for an excursion by train to the site of ancient Ephesus. Many of the tourists took this trip to see the few scattered ruins that mark the place where once stood the magnificent Temple of Diana. The clergymen of the party desired to view the place where the Apostle Paul had fought in the arena with wild beasts, and where Demetrius and his fellow silversmiths had led the rioters against this Apostle whose preaching interfered with the sales of silver shrines for Diana.

Other tourists, who did not take the excursion to Ephesus, explored the narrow, badly-paved streets of Smyrna, and visited the bazaars. This city would have seemed more interesting to us but for our previous visit to the more picturesque Constantinople. In a crowded street we encountered a flock of turkeys driven by a native. The turkeys appeared to understand the driver's commands and were more easily guided by a touch of his long switch than would be a flock of sheep passing through a street in an American city.

Setting sail again, we passed late in the evening the island of Patmos, where Saint John wrote the book of Revelations, and on Monday morning we saw at a distance the island of Rhodes, noted for its historic defense by the Knights of Malta. About nine o'clock Tuesday morning the Moltke anchored in the Bay of St. George some distance from the shore. On the surrounding hill slopes rose the city of Beyrout. Fresh-looking white and yellow tinted buildings, red-tiled roofs, and a background of green groves and orchards interspersed with white villas, gave the city an appearance of newness. The whole scene, with the snow-capped Mountains of Lebanon beyond, presented a beautiful picture to the eye.

"Beyrout has a population of 120,000, and is a prosperous, growing city," said one of the managers of the tour. "It is a centre of missionary work, and has American and German colleges. The old streets are narrow, as are all old streets in Eastern towns; but they are clean. The newer streets are of modern width. Educational advantages, foreign enterprise, and European mercantile firms have infused new life into the native population."

Madame Barakat, a native of Syria, and a well-known lecturer and Bible reader, had very kindly given us letters of introduction to her Syrian relatives in Beyrout. Among these were Mr. Sarkis, a highly respected gentleman who had been honored by the Sultan with decorations for services to his country, and who was also an author and editor of a daily newspaper; and Mr. Sabra, his assistant, a tall, fine-looking man. Another was the Rev. Mr. Zurub, pastor of the Congregational Church. The three gentlemen were able to converse in English as fluently as in their own tongue.

We were very cordially received by Mr. Sarkis, and, after meeting and conversing with the other gentlemen, were shown through their printing house, where Syrian type-setters were setting type to print Arabic letters that looked like shorthand characters, and Jewish girls were employed binding pamphlets. Our names were given to the printer, and in a few minutes he presented us with visiting cards containing the names in Arabic letters, thus:

"Let us visit a candy factory while waiting for the carriages I have ordered," said Mr. Sabra. "I know that the ladies are fond of sweetmeats and I can guarantee these to be perfectly pure. We think that our candies are delicious," he added as we entered the factory, and the ladies agreed with him after eating some of the sweets.

The Syrians take pride in their city, in its factories, its hospitals, its seminaries and colleges, its progressive business spirit, and the beauty of its suburbs. We visited one of the silk factories where hundreds of Syrian girls were engaged in unwinding the cocoons of delicate gossamer that had been tediously spun and wound by the silk worms among the leaves of the mulberry trees in the great orchards on the hillsides.

"On the slope of yonder mountain we have a villa in which we spend the hot summer months," said Mr. Sabra, pointing to the distant mountains as we reached an elevation from which a broad view was obtained. "If there had been time I would have taken you there to see one of the most beautiful views in Syria."

"The landscape is magnificent as seen from here," we replied. The fruitful valley lay before us, beyond rose the verdant hills, and above all towered the stately mountains of Lebanon. Villages, hamlets, villas, exuberant gardens, orchards of spreading mulberry trees, graceful palms, fig, lemon, and orange trees enhanced the beauty of the scene.

"Our colleges and schools," said Mr. Sarkis, "are equal to those of a European city. Our people are becoming an educated people; almost all of the younger generation can read and write. My daughters have been educated in the American Seminary and can converse fluently in French, German, and English, as well as in Arabic."

In a narrow thoroughfare we passed horses laden with long boards strapped lengthwise on their backs, and camels laden with huge timbers strapped to their backs and sides in the same manner.

"This is my home," said Mr. Sarkis, as the carriage stopped before a large house surrounded by a small garden and a high wall. "I wish you to meet my wife and sister and daughters."

Our hostesses were dressed in the English fashion, and our hosts, too, wore modern English clothes, but the red fez on their heads designated them as Turkish subjects. When we expressed an interest in their way of living, the ladies took us from the reception room, which was furnished in modern style, into their garden where orange and lemon trees and semi-tropical plants were growing. They conducted us then through the spacious marble-floored central hall, permitting us to look into nursery and bedrooms fitted up partly in modern and partly in Oriental style, and led us up a stone stairway to the level roof, which, with its surrounding parapet, recalled the one described in "Ben Hur." Here fruit was served by a Syrian maid clad in the native costume. On our return to the lower floor, our hostesses conducted us to the divan salon or Oriental smoking room. There, while we rested on low couches, the Syrian maid passed around Turkish coffee in dainty cups, and then brought a lighted narghileh from which, in turn, each one present took a few whiffs of the mild Turkish tobacco.

Mr. Sarkis told us that he had visited the United States at the time of the Chicago Exposition. He took one hundred and forty Arabian horses to the Exposition and had some interesting experiences while there. The Rev. Mr. Zurub had spent sixteen months in America and spoke in the highest terms of the kindness with which he had been received by the American people.

In the evening a ball was given on the deck of the steamer, which had been tastefully decorated for the occasion. Our friends, Mr. Sarkis, Mrs. Sarkis and sister, the daughters, Fahima, aged about eighteen, Neda, aged about fourteen, and a son, aged about sixteen, together with Mr. Sabra, came on board to visit the ship. Mr. Sabra sang some Arabic songs and Fahima joined him in a duet.

About fifty tourists left the Moltke at Beyrout in order to take the side trip of three days to Damascus, the oldest city in history, and to the ruins of the great Temple of Baal at Baalbek. A narrow-gauge railway extends across the Lebanon Mountains from Beyrout to Damascus. The distance is but ninety miles, but as the train has to rise to an elevation of nearly five thousand feet and then descend to the valley beyond, the average speed does not exceed ten or twelve miles an hour. On Wednesday morning the steamer stopped at the little seaport of Haifa just long enough to send ashore sixty passengers. Some of these wished to take the side trip to Nazareth and the Sea of Galilee by carriage; the others, to make the excursion through the interior of Palestine on horseback, camping on the way, and rejoining the main party in Jerusalem.

At noon on Wednesday the Moltke anchored in the unprotected harbor of Jaffa over a mile from the shore, as it is not safe for a large steamer to approach nearer. This was the landing place in the Mediterranean most dreaded by the tourists; for we had heard of jagged rocks that projected their black heads from the water, and of rough seas that on windy days broke over the rocks making the passage from the vessel to the dock very dangerous. The weather, however, was fair and the sea unusually smooth that noon as the tourists one by one dropped from the platform at the foot of the stairway into the row-boats as they rose on the swell of the waves. The boats were large and built expressly for this dangerous harbor. Each boat was managed by eight men, six rowers, a helmsman, and a bowman, and each boat carried about twenty passengers. As the Syrians labored hard at the oars they chanted continually a prayer to Allah for a fair passage.

After safely landing at the stone steps of the dock, we proceeded through the streets to the special train which was waiting to carry us up to Jerusalem, not stopping to visit the traditional house of Simon, the tanner, where the Apostle Peter had a vision on the roof.

"The oranges of Jaffa are noted as being the finest in the world. Don't fail to buy some," said a gentleman from California. "We raise good oranges in my state, but ours are not quite equal to those of Jaffa."

Arab men and boys surrounded the tourists at the station offering carefully packed baskets, each containing two or three dozen fresh, juicy oranges at what seemed an extremely low price. When the train started every compartment contained one or more baskets of the delicious fruit.

The journey from Jaffa to Jerusalem was literally "up;" for the Sacred City is nearly three thousand feet above the sea, and four hours was required for the trip of fifty-four miles. After leaving Jaffa the train passed through a succession of interesting panoramic views: gardens where richness of soil was manifested by the rankness of the growth of the plants and flowers; groups of palm trees with long, rough trunks, and tufted heads high in the air; long rows of tall, narrow-leaved, evergreen eucalyptus trees; orchards of orange trees where yellow fruit clustered amid the glossy dark green leaves; orchards of almond trees covered with a delicate pink bloom; and orchards of gray olive trees with a carpet of grass underneath, as beautiful as a park; bare fig trees whose time for leaf and bloom had not yet come; and fences of huge leaved prickly cactus plants protecting garden plots.

"What queer looking plows they have," said a companion, as we noticed near the train a plowman who had stopped his camel, and thrown his plow, which looked like a crooked root with a point, out of the furrow, while he gazed at the passing train. "The first gardener must have obtained a plow of the same kind from the original forest."

In stretches of sod the rich brown earth was being turned up by farmers with teams of camels, one great camel to each little wooden plow, or with teams composed of an ox and an ass hitched together. In one field twelve camel teams were plowing the sod. We use the word field, but there were no fences except the cactus hedges around small plots. The farm boundaries from ancient times have been marked by corner stones to which Moses referred when he gave the law: "Cursed be he that removeth his neighbor's landmark." We were in the midst of historic places mentioned in the Bible. To the north lay the fertile level fields of the Plain of Sharon. Fields of young wheat were beautified by the roses of Sharon,--red poppies with black centres and short stems,--which dotted the carpet of green with flecks of red. At Lydda, where Peter healed the man who had the palsy, Arab urchins begged the passengers to buy little bunches of the red poppies and other wild flowers that they offered for sale. To the south stretched the Plain of Philistia, the scene of Samson's adventures, and the fields through which he sent the three hundred foxes with firebrands tied to their tails. In that direction also lay battle fields where Philistines and Israelites struggled for supremacy.

The towns and villages on the route were small and mean. The better buildings were constructed of stone with flat stone roofs, but many were made of mud with mud roofs on which a crop of grass was growing. After the first hour's ride, fertile rolling plains succeeded the level sandy loam. When about thirty miles from Jaffa, after a two hours' ride, the hill country of Judea was entered. From that point the train traveled slowly and laboriously up the hills and mountains by steep gradients. Overhead in the limestone cliffs were many caves, one of which was pointed out as Samson's Grotto. Whenever there was any soil among the rocks and stones, the grass grew luxuriantly, making good pasture for the herds of nimble-footed black goats that picked their way along the steep and rocky mountain side. The red rose of Sharon grew in profusion and took possession of the uncultivated ground around the trees and between the rocks. At many places the abundance of these poppies and the beauty of their groupings gave to the land the appearance of a park planned and laid out by a landscape gardener. Nearer the summit the hills were bleak and barren. Here was the village of Bittir, a group of little stone houses clinging to the mountain side, where terraces supported by stone walls held up small gardens on which cauliflower and other vegetables were growing.

"For the past hour," said a lady who had been intently gazing out of the window of the car, "yes, for a longer time, I have been looking forward expecting to see a city burst forth impressively into sight, a city upon a mountain top, 'beautiful for situation.' Now the conductor tells us that we are nearing our destination, and yet cliffs and hills are all that we can see. Where is Jerusalem? 'A city set upon a hill cannot be hid.'"

"You have not read your Bible closely," replied a minister in our compartment. "David said, 'The mountains are round about Jerusalem,' As it was then so we shall find it now, on hills surrounded by other hills. Do not expect to see the city of Solomon's time which the Queen of Sheba came to visit. Its glory departed eighteen centuries ago. I fear that your imagination has led you to expect more than the modern Turkish town which we shall find, and you may feel like lamenting with Jeremiah, 'Is this the city that men call the perfection of beauty, the joy of the whole earth?'"

It was not until we were approaching the railway station, which is situated in the suburbs about a mile from the city, that we obtained a view of the yellow walls and buildings of the Holy City, and the sight then was not impressive, as we had expected. Then at the station, amid the noisy cries of many Arab drivers, we obtained seats in carriages, and were driven at breakneck speed over a good road down into the valley of Hinnom and up a long hill to the Jaffa gate.

The party had been divided by the managers into sections for the various hotels, and each tourist had been given a card with the name of his hotel. Those who were to go to hotels outside the walls of the city proceeded directly to their destination in carriages. Those who were to stay within the walls descended from the conveyances in front of the Grand Hotel just within the Jaffa gate, and went the rest of the way on foot through narrow streets that carriages could not enter. The writer was assigned to the Casa Nova, or Hospitium Franciscanum, a monastery or hospital built expressly for the accommodation of pilgrims to the Holy City, and controlled and managed by Franciscan monks.