Chapter 11

JERUSALEM.

On Wednesday evening, after our arrival at Jerusalem, we visited a small store to purchase a guide-book of the city. But the merchant would not accept our French or English money, and we had no Turkish money. We laid the book down, but the dealer said, "You take the book and pay me another time."

"Are you willing to trust a stranger?" we inquired.

"Yes!" he replied, "I trust American any time. You may buy goods, all you want, three hundred dollars' worth. I trust you. When you go home to America, then you send me the money."

"Were you never cheated?" we asked.

"No," he answered, "I trust American many time. American always pay, but me not trust Frenchman; Frenchman forget."

Glad to know that our countrymen bear such a good reputation, we took the book without giving our names, merely telling him that we were staying at the Casa Nova and would pay the next day.

In our country we can travel from Maine to California with one kind of money. All that is necessary is to have plenty of it. But in these foreign lands the currency changes as we move from one country to another, so that we may have a pocket full of money and yet not be able to pay our bills. At Funchal, Portuguese money was current; at Gibraltar and at Malta, English money; at Granada, Spanish; at Algiers, French; at Athens, Greek; at Constantinople and Jerusalem, Turkish. In Cairo another coinage was current, and in Italy the Turkish and Egyptian coins left over had to be sold to the money changers or taken home as souvenirs. In large cities the hotels and larger stores accepted American, English, and French money at its value, but small dealers and individuals knew nothing of foreign coins and wanted payment in their own currency. As it was desirable at all times to have plenty of small coins on hand, the tourists soon became acquainted with the value of shillings and pence, francs and centimes, drachmæ and lepta, piasters and paras. On our arrival at each port the managers of the tour and the purser of the vessel obtained a large number of small coins of that particular country so that the needs of the tourists could be promptly supplied.

Our room at the Hospice was rather cold but my room-mate said there was one compensation, we need have no fear of the hotel's burning down and so need not be anxious as to the location of the fire escapes before retiring. The Casa Nova is a stone building with stone stairways and floors. In our room there was nothing inflammable but the mosquito nettings and lace draperies over the iron bedsteads. Two candles furnished us with light, hempen rugs covered portions of the black and white marble floor, a gilded crucifix hung on the painted stone wall, and two chairs, a small table, and a washstand completed the furnishing.

Early Thursday morning, with bright anticipations, we started for a visit to Bethlehem. The drive of six miles over a good limestone road was one of much interest. Our dragoman pointed out the well where the wise men, stooping to drink, saw the reflection of the star in the water before they beheld the star itself in the sky.

"Why, how could that be?" inquired one of the party. "I thought the wise men were following the star."

But the guide did not attempt to explain. It was his business to state facts in which he had believed all his life; not to enter into disputes with unbelievers as to the truth of his statements. He showed us a great rock in the road where Elijah, wearied in his flight, lay down to rest. It seemed to be a hard bed for a tired man, but we remembered that in olden times rocks and caves were selected for sleeping-places and stones often served for pillows.

Camels were so numerous on the road that they lost their novelty,--camels single and camels in trains, with great hampers swinging at their sides laden with sacks of lime or charcoal, with building stone or cauliflower, with fish or flagstones, with chunks of wood and gnarled roots, with bags of grain and crates of vegetables, each camel carrying a quantity about equal to a one-horse wagon load. From a hill-top we caught a glimpse of the Dead Sea lying far below us in the valley twenty miles away. We met women on their way to market with heavy baskets of cauliflower and other vegetables poised on their heads, men bending under distended goat-skins filled with water or wine strapped to their shoulders, donkeys bearing basket-panniers filled with produce or laden with bags of grain heaped on their backs, Greek priests in black robes and high hats carrying white umbrellas for protection from the sun, and turbaned Arabs in brown robes plodding along with staves in their hands.

The mountainous suburbs of the city are composed of limestone, and the limestone rocks cropped out on every side. The rocks protruding from the soil were of a light gray color, but the broken rocks, the fences, and the houses built of stone had changed to a light yellow shade from exposure to the weather. The fields were covered with stones except where little patches had been cleared with great labor and the stones built into fences surrounding the small plots. The hill-sides were almost bare of soil. Where the stones had been cleared away, the soil of decomposed limestone produced a luxuriant growth. The cauliflower carried to market was the finest we had ever seen. The few scattered olive trees in the valleys appeared strong and healthy in their light green foliage. The fig trees were bare, but occasional groups of almond trees were covered with pink bloom.

During our drive we saw peasants plowing little plots with single donkeys and crooked wooden plows, or digging between rocks and around grape vines with clumsy, heavy-looking hoes. The grape vines were trimmed back to within three or four feet of the ground and were not supported or trellised. Women gathered the trimmings of the vines, bound them into fagots, placed the fagots on their heads, and carried them away to the city for firewood. Not a sprig was wasted. The old roots that were dug out of the ground were borne away in the same manner. In a country without forests and without coal everything that will burn is utilized. We saw girls carrying flat baskets on their heads and the guide satisfied our curiosity by explaining that the baskets contained dried cakes of camels' dung which the girls had gathered and were taking home for fuel.

Rachel's tomb, situated four miles from Jerusalem, and about two miles from Bethlehem, recalled to memory the old love story: "And Jacob served Laban seven years for Rachel; and they seemed unto him but a few days, for the love he had for her."

Cut in the rock, near Bethlehem is an ancient well, known as the well of David. From that point we obtained a good view of the square stone houses of the little town of Bethlehem, which is built on a sloping hill-side, and of the great spreading Church of the Nativity, which is the dominating feature of the place. Beyond the city we saw a verdant plain, where possibly Ruth gleaned, and, farther away, the hills where probably David led his flock to "green pastures" and the shepherds of later days received the "tidings of great joy."

In the narrow streets of Bethlehem our driver shouted to men, women, and children to clear the way and make room for the carriages to pass through, snapping his whip at them if they did not quickly obey. When we arrived at the old Church of the Holy Nativity we were told that this venerable place is in reality a group of buildings, the original edifice having been built fifteen or more centuries ago, and many additions having been made in after years. We saw a structure of yellowish stone walls pierced with small windows which appeared to us more like a prison or a fortress than a place of worship. There were no stained glass windows. There was no imposing portal opening into the temple. On entering the sacred enclosure we passed through a door in the stone wall so low that we were compelled to stoop and so narrow that but one at a time might enter.

"This doorway," said the guide, "should remind the pilgrims that the birthplace of the Savior is to be visited with humility and reverence."

In the large, time-worn interior of the church, faded mosaics, huge columns, and stone floors presented a rather gloomy aspect. The tourists hastened through and descended to the crypt or vault underneath the church. This vault was paved with marble, and on a raised platform in the centre was a large, handsomely decorated altar. Suspended from the ceiling were many ancient lamps of curious make and smaller lamps hanging in festoons. On one side was a small room, called the Chapel of the Nativity, where thirty gold and silver lamps threw a dim, soft light on the scene below. In the pavement before an altar was a star of silver, and the words:

"Hic de Virgine Maria Jesus Christus natus est."

Opposite and near the Chapel of the Nativity was another small, rock-walled room called the Chapel of the Manger. In this room the dim light of golden lamps revealed a white marble manger in which a large wax doll reclined.

"The original wooden manger or cradle in which the infant Jesus reposed was taken to Rome," explained the guide. "If you return by way of Rome you may see it in the great church of Santa Maria Maggiore."

"The care of the chapels, shrines, and holy places of the Church of the Nativity," he continued, "is appointed to the Latin, Greek, and Armenian churches. The space inside the building is divided. Each sect has its own particular portion to care for, and an intense jealousy exists among the rival religious bodies. If the rug of the Armenian is accidentally pushed over the Latin line, the action is resented. If the broom of the Latin while cleansing intrudes upon the Greek domain, there is trouble. Disputes have arisen from very slight causes, blows have been exchanged, rioting, blood-shed, and murder have followed. Priests at times have fought with priests until the Turkish soldiers intervened. Now, by the Sultan's orders, Moslem guards are stationed in the church to restrain the impetuous caretakers and prevent disturbances."

In one of the underground chapels of the church, a dark and gloomy cavern cut out of the solid rock, the guide said: "In this grotto Saint Jerome passed thirty years fasting, praying, meditating, and writing. His last communion was taken here."

We remembered that Domenichino's celebrated painting in the Vatican at Rome, called the "Last Communion of St. Jerome," represented the aged saint dying amid luxurious surroundings.

When we came out of the church, bright-faced boys and girls urged us to buy their wares or accompany them to the shops. The little town appeared to prosper from the manufacture and sale of souvenirs of carved mother-of-pearl and olive-wood. Crosses, crucifixes, rosaries, beads, glove-boxes, writing desks, inkstands, napkin rings, paper knives, and forks were offered as genuine wood from the olive trees of David's town, and the mother-of-pearl mementoes were carved with minute scenes of events in the life of Christ and of places in the Holy Land.

After the purchase of olive wood souvenirs had been made, the drive was continued to the Pools which Solomon had built to collect water for use in the Temple. These are situated among the hills about eight miles from Jerusalem. The stone walls of the reservoirs were so well constructed by Solomon's architects three thousand years ago that to-day the masonry is in almost perfect condition. The Pools, we were informed are not in use at the present time, although water is conveyed in pipes to Jerusalem from springs near-by.

The glare of the sun on the white road and gray rocks, the lack of green in the bare landscape, and the fine dust from the limestone caused a slight smarting in the eyes of the travelers. So it was with relief that in the suburbs of the city, about half a mile from the Damascus gate, we descended a long flight of stone steps into the shade of an excavation in the rocks about twenty feet in depth. This open chamber, known as the Tombs of the Kings, is about ninety feet square. At one side is a doorway in the rock four feet high and thirty inches wide, and beside the doorway stood a huge stone, rounded at the corners, that might, by the united efforts of several men, be rolled in front of the entrance so as to close it completely. We crawled through the hole in the rock and entered a cavern. The candles of the guides revealed on each side of the cavern small rooms or caves containing shelves or apertures which had been used as the sepulchres of the Kings.

Jerusalem, situated on four hills, is surrounded by hills which are separated from the city and from each other by deep valleys or gulleys. We drove from Jerusalem to the Mount of Olives over a well constructed modern limestone road that wound among these hills and valleys in long curves and horseshoes in order to reach a place that seemed almost within a stone's throw.

"The summit of this round-topped ridge, which is called the Mount of Olives, is owned by Russia," explained the guide, "and the Russians have erected an observation tower, a chapel, and other buildings upon it. These buildings are surrounded by a courtyard enclosed within high stone walls, and a fee must be paid at the gate in order to gain admittance. Within the court a small circular pavilion covers the place from which, it is claimed, the ascension of the Savior was made."

As we approached the gate, a group of Russian men and women were seen coming sadly away. We were informed later that these peasants, after tramping a long distance on a holy pilgrimage in order to kneel down and kiss the stone that marked the sacred spot of the Ascension of their Lord, were refused admittance because they had not the required fee to pay for entrance. In a Roman Catholic church, built on the spot on Olivet where Christ is said to have taught His disciples to pray, the Lord's Prayer is displayed on charts in large letters in thirty-six different languages, so that pilgrims from all parts of the world can read the prayer in their own tongue.

From the summit of Olivet, which is two hundred feet above the city of Jerusalem, we looked down over the Holy City; but a finer panoramic view of the surrounding country was obtained afterwards from the Russian observation tower. The climbing of the two hundred stone steps which lead to the top of the tower was not easy, but we felt amply repaid by the magnificence of the view. Near the foot of the mountain lay the Garden of Gethsemane. Beyond and four hundred feet below us, the little brook Kedron trickled through the narrow Valley of Jehoshaphat. Across the valley on the opposite heights of Mount Moriah, only half a mile away in a direct line, prominent in the foreground, stood the Mosque of Omar, and back of it rose the square roof and round domes of the city buildings. Away off to the east, deep down in the valley, we could see a portion of the Dead Sea and could trace the Valley of the River Jordan.

We walked from the summit of the Mount of Olives down a steep, rocky, crooked, narrow lane, hemmed in by stone walls, to the foot of the slope, as it is considered too dangerous for the tourists to remain in the carriages while descending this short cut to a lower road. The carriages rejoined us later. At the foot of the hill there was a piece of land about half an acre in extent enclosed by a white stone fence. Within the enclosure was a garden surrounded by an iron fence. Between the stone fence and the iron railing was a wide path. Within the garden were eight gnarled olive trees that appeared to be of great age, and flower beds which were carefully tended and guarded by Franciscan monks. It was not necessary for the guide to tell us that this was the Garden of Gethsemane. Small shrines with pictures above them, fourteen in all, representing the fourteen traditionary stations of the Via Dolorosa, were arranged at intervals along the path around the garden. Before these shrines pilgrims were kneeling in prayer. As we were leaving the garden an old monk with tonsured head, in long brown robe girt about with a hempen cord and having sandals laced on his bare feet, presented each, of us with a flower from the garden and a few leaves from one of the ancient olive trees.

The Tomb and Chapel of the Virgin, which is but a short distance from Gethsemane, had a venerable aspect, and the olive trees surrounding it were patriarchal in appearance. We crossed the sunken court and descended a broad staircase of sixty steps to a gloomy chapel which seemed to have been excavated in the rock.

"These tombs on the right are the tombs of the parents of the Virgin, Joachim and Anna," said the guide as we halted in the dim light. "That tomb on the left is the tomb of Joseph, the husband of Mary. The small chapel at the end of the grotto contains the empty tomb of the risen virgin."

On the road to Bethany we passed many trains of pack mules, twenty or thirty in a train, and caravans of camels striding along in single file. A light rope or chain connected the leading camel with the others and kept them from straggling.

The Arab who drove our carriage told us that he was a scholar. He explained by stating that he could converse fluently in four languages, besides his own native Arabic tongue. These languages were Turkish, Russian, Latin, and French, and in addition, he knew enough English to give some information to the tourists. The linguistic ignorance of the occupants of his carriage seemed to impress him with the idea that education in America is neglected.

Bethany, barely two miles distant from Jerusalem, is a poor little village with steep, rough, dirty lanes and a number of old and dilapidated small stone houses amid broken walls of other houses which evidently have been equally insignificant. One of these piles was pointed out by the Bethany guides as the ruins of the home of Mary and Martha, and we were then taken to a narrow lane where a dark and slimy stairway led down to the reputed tomb of Lazarus. Our dragoman, who firmly believed in the traditions of the country, said that he could not vouch for the statements made by the Bethany local guides.

Returning to Jerusalem, we visited the so-called palace of Caiaphas, the High Priest. This palace is an excavated ruin. Steps lead down to the marble floor, which is fifteen or twenty feet below the present level of the street.

"The circle on the pavement," said the custodian, "marks the place where Peter stood with the soldiers, warming his hands by the little fire which they had kindled in a brazier, when he was accused by the maid of being a companion and follower of the Prisoner then on trial before the High Priest. The stone pillar that you see in the courtyard of the palace is the stone on which the cock was perched when its crowing quickened Peter's memory, softened his heart, and brought bitter tears to his eyes."

After leaving the palace we followed the guide through a rough narrow street to a view point on the wall. Far below us lay the Valley of Jehoshaphat, the village of Siloam, and the site of the pool to which Jesus sent the blind man to wash.

"The walk to the pool through the rough and crooked streets would be difficult now for a man with good sight," remarked one of the tourists, "how much more so would it be to a blind man groping his way."

Permission to visit the Temple Area, or Haram, as it is called by the Moslems, had been obtained from the Turkish authorities by the payment of heavy fees. We proceeded to that place on foot accompanied by the dragoman. At the gate of the Area the authorities furnished Moslem guides to conduct the visitors through the enclosure, and sent Turkish soldiers to accompany the party to restrain any possible irreverent or unseemly conduct while within the holy precincts.

"The Temple Area, which probably covers the place where was once the Court of the Temple," explained the dragoman, as we halted within the grounds, "is thirty-five acres in extent, about one thousand feet wide by two thousand feet in length, and is surrounded by high walls. It is revered by the Moslems as one of their most holy places. This is the Mount Moriah hallowed by the sacrifices of Abraham, glorified by the prayers of King David, consecrated by the Temple of Solomon, and made additionally sacred by the ascension of the Prophet of Allah. The Moslems forbid the entrance of Jews into the Haram, although the Jews have as great reverence for the place as the Moslems."

In the centre of the Area, on a raised embankment or platform, paved with marble slabs, stood a handsome octagonal building covered below the window line with marbles of various hues and above that line by decorated tiles of blue-and-white porcelain edged with green. As we stood on the marble pavement and gazed at the tiling mellowed by age, and at the round lead-covered dome above, the guide continued his explanations.

"This edifice, called by the Moslems the Dome of the Rock," said he, "but better known as the Mosque of Omar, is built on the site of the Temple of Herod, and also on the site of the Temple of Solomon, which preceded that of Herod. Each side of the octagon is sixty-six feet in length, and the top of the dome is one hundred and fifteen feet above this platform."

Underneath a small pavilion at the entrance, attendants laced slippers to our feet and then conducted us into the Mosque. On the floor lay precious Oriental rugs. Overhead in the dome, the light entered through richly stained glass windows, tinting and beautifying the interior and disclosing the mosaic decorations of the ceiling and the Arabic inscriptions on the walls. At one side was an exquisitely carved wooden pulpit inlaid with ivory and mother-of-pearl. In the centre of the Mosque a great rock, at least fifty feet long and almost as wide, rose to the height of our heads. A beautifully designed, gilded and bronzed iron railing prevented infidel fingers from touching the rock.

"This mountain-top, the crown of Mount Moriah," said the Moslem dragoman, as we stood reverently before it, "is the place where the arm of Abraham was stayed as he lifted the knife to slay his son. This rock, in David's time, was the threshing floor of Araunah, whose oxen trampled out the grain upon it until the time when King David purchased the land and built here an altar to the Lord. When King Solomon erected the temple upon the site prepared and dedicated by his father David, this Holy Rock became the altar upon which the priests of the temple offered sacrifices. When Mohammed, the Prophet of God, took his flight to Heaven he rose from this sanctified place, which is nearer to Heaven than any other spot on earth, leaving as a memorial the impression of his foot which you now see there in the rock. The print of the hand in the rock near the footprint was made by the angel Gabriel when he prevented the rock from following the Prophet in his ascent."

At the foot of the flight of steps which the tourists descended on their way from the marble platform of the Dome of the Rock to the Mosque of El Aksa, the tourists encountered Turkish photographers, who, hoping that the Americans would gladly make use of their services, had been patiently awaiting their arrival. But the tourists were well supplied with their own outfits, and these amateurs, disdaining the offered professional services, secured snapshots themselves.

"What!" said one of the amateurs indignantly, "let the Turks take us? No! let some of the party stay on the steps and we will take the picture and include the Turks in it."

While returning through the extensive grounds of the Haram, one of the tourists lighted a pipe. Immediately a Moslem guard approached and with unintelligible words, made it known by his frowning face and threatening gestures, that the pipe must be extinguished.