CHAPTER XIII

AN AMERICAN CHRISTMAS IN JERUSALEM

BAKSHISH is the call of the Near East. Nearly every man, woman and child in Egypt must say this word a thousand times a day. At Memphis two hundred people greeted us a mile from the town with a chorus of _bakshish_. They trailed along with us for an hour with their hands extended, begging for coins. This group of people was one of the most forlorn I have ever seen. There were all ages of both sexes represented among them. The little children tripped along in front of us, the old men made earnest appeals for money and the women, attired in what appeared to be simply an assortment of rags, tottered along behind us calling _bakshish_ incessantly.

The greatest act of kindness that any one could do these people would be to travel through the little villages with several tons of boracic acid and bathe the eyes of every inhabitant. Seventy-five per cent. of these poor creatures seem to be either blind or suffering from eye infection. It is all due to filth. The children are the most forlorn lot I ever saw. Their faces looked as though they had never been washed. I saw babies with a dozen flies on each eye and a score on their mouths, and their mothers made no effort to brush them off. Every child's face was speckled with flies. It was enough to make a person sick to look at them. The youngsters with flies on their eyes and two-thirds of the aged blind! Why don't these people realise that there is a connection between these two conditions and do something?

At Sakara, where we saw eleven pyramids, including the famous step-pyramid, we negotiated with some native labourers for a camel ride. It was a couple of miles to the railroad and we arranged to travel the distance on these oriental beasts of burden. We were in the rural districts and the camels were carrying loads of dirt. My man agreed to a piastre (five cents) for the trip. When I was mounted he demanded a shilling. I paid no attention to him. He started the beast on the run in the hope of frightening me. It was simply fun. Then he urged the animal into a gallop. I didn't know a camel was capable of such a thing. I know it now. A scenic railway is as mild as a baby carriage when compared to the up and down movements of a galloping camel. There isn't much speed about it. Two-thirds of the energy of the beast is devoted to vertical motions. I hung on to the canvas bag on the camel's back with the grip of a bull-dog. My insides were nearly shaken out. The native continued to shout for a shilling and jab the camel in the belly with a sharp stick. The animal leaped and bounded about like a bronco. By a miracle I managed to hang on.

Fifteen minutes of such a shaking process was enough for me. I swung my feet over to one side and jumped from the camel's back to the ploughed ground. My ride only cost me a piastre. It was well worth it.

A man at the American Presbyterian Mission in Cairo told us that there was a crowd of American "free-lovers" in Jerusalem who frequently entertained travellers, and he thought we could get accommodations there. The free-love feature had an attractive sound to Richardson and myself and we concluded that if there was any of that sort of thing loose we would round it up. We therefore decided to go to Jerusalem at once. Our destination was the "American Colony," the name by which this group of people was known.

We scrambled out of bed, packed, paid our hotel bills, rode a mile to the station--all in thirty minutes--and left Cairo for Palestine. At Port Said we boarded the _Maria Teresa_ of the Austrian Lloyd Company and took up our quarters in the steerage, along with a dozen French monks and others making a pilgrimage to the Holy City. There was one Austrian priest on board. He had a long brilliant red beard which looked as though it was the growth of centuries. When he saw me shaving before the common mirror in the steerage he was suddenly seized with the desire to part with the fearful brush he had on his face. He wanted to buy my razor. I, of course, wouldn't sell it. Then he asked to borrow it. I didn't very much like the idea of lending my razor to chop off the beards on strangers' faces. However, I passed over the weapon.

The priest asked me to assist him. My part of the work was trimming his beard with scissors down to the point where the razor would be of service. I refused to do more. He did the shaving himself. It took him half an hour to ruin a good razor.

It is but a night's journey to Jaffa and in the morning we were off the shore of that little town. The sea was very rough and we were unable to land. Jaffa hasn't any wharves and the captain considered it dangerous for the passengers to be taken ashore in the small native boats. We stood by all day, hoping that the sea would subside. Evening came and there was no change.

There were a number of Americans among the first-class passengers. A California judge and his wife, a Chicago gas merchant and his wife, an English clergyman and a Pentecost preacher proved the most interesting. Richardson and I paid no attention to the steerage limits. We mingled with the first-class passengers and made several lasting friendships among them.

We all wanted to be in Jerusalem and Bethlehem on Christmas Day. It was now the 22nd of December and unless we landed somewhere soon we couldn't make it. The captain decided to sail for Haifa, whence we could go to Jerusalem by land.

In the morning we arrived at Haifa. The purser presented us with a bill for two dollars for extra fare and food from Jaffa. All the passengers paid it. Richardson and I refused.

"But you have to pay it," said the purser.

"Pay nothing," I said, "we bought tickets to Jaffa and you didn't land us there."

"All the passengers have paid it."

"We don't care if they have," said Richardson.

"I insist on your paying the money," the purser added in a most dignified manner.

"No money from us. What are you going to do about it?" I said.

"Well, if you persist in refusing to pay, I must have you write a letter to the Austrian Lloyd Company stating that you declined to do so. I want something to show the officials of the company."

"Sure, we will do that."

Richardson and I framed up the following brief epistle which we gladly gave the Austrian purser. He couldn't read English and didn't know what was in it.

"_To the Austrian Lloyd Company_:

We are a pair of religious fanatics making our monthly pilgrimage to Jerusalem. For the first time in our many trips on your company's boats we are charged an extra fare. We bought tickets to Jaffa--not to Haifa. The purser demands two dollars more and says the high sea is the cause of it. We refuse to pay for rough weather. If the captain took it into his head to go to Siam, we suppose that your purser would render us a bill. No, the gentleman is wrong.

R.J. RICHARDSON,

ALFRED C.B. FLETCHER."

All the passengers went ashore at Haifa in small boats provided by the Thomas Cook and Son tourist agency. They paid five shillings each. Richardson and I stood on the deck and bargained with the native boatmen. We got them bidding against one another. One of them finally rowed the two of us to land for one shilling.

There is no railroad from Haifa to Jerusalem and the only means of getting to the Holy City is to drive to Jaffa, a distance of about seventy miles. From Jaffa we could go by train to Jerusalem. Richardson and I had always made it a point to keep out of the hands of Thomas Cook and Son. This concern, which is in all parts of the world, is a great convenience to travellers and their rates are moderate in most cases. However, we had no time for them and they had no time for us. We could travel cheaper without their assistance. They are not interested in tramps or steerage passengers.

Haifa was one place where we were forced into the hands of Thomas Cook. It was a case of go in one of his stages to Jaffa at ten dollars each, or not go at all. It would have been a source of regret to us for many years if we had abandoned the trip. The Americans were full of enthusiasm about it. Richardson and I caught the spirit and agreed to go.

There were ten stages in the party with about thirty passengers from the Austrian Lloyd steamer, including our newly-acquired American friends. This little caravan left Haifa about noon. It wound its way around the base of Mount Carmel, on whose summit is a monastery--said to be erected over the cave in which Elijah sought shelter from Ahab. In an hour we were on the coastal plains of Palestine. There are no modern highways in the Holy Land. I don't recall seeing anything that looked like a road all the way from Haifa to Jaffa. We rode over fields, up hills and through valleys. We simply started in the right direction and went straight across the country.

That evening we came to a small Jewish village called Zamarine. This settlement was nothing more than a dozen little houses on the top of a hill. The whole party put up at the Hotel Graff. The proprietor of this place knew nothing of our coming and hadn't prepared any food for us. We were a tired lot and had to go to bed hungry, with only the promise of a good breakfast in the morning.

Every one was up at two o'clock to get an early start for the fifty-mile run into Jaffa. The good breakfast consisted of weak creamless coffee, unbuttered bread and a few sardines or small canned fish. This repast was a keen disappointment. It was an amusing sight to see the millionaire Chicago gas merchant and the California judge munching a dry piece of bread for a two A.M. breakfast. They expected more. Richardson and I took the meal as a matter of course. We had seen the time when such a menu would have been a luxury.

We left Zamarine when it was still dark and in a heavy down-pour of rain. This down-pour continued all day. The plains were soaked with water. When we were not pulling through the sticky mud of the fields we were bumping over the rocks and boulders of the hillsides. It was the worst stage trip I ever took.

The Pentecost preacher rode in the stage with Richardson and myself. He prayed for the rain to cease. The harder he prayed the harder it rained. We passed the hours in religious discussions. The old fellow was the most rigid Puritan on earth. He objected to cards, dancing and the theatre. We asked a hundred questions to draw him out and amuse ourselves.

"What chance has a man who drinks?" Richardson asked the preacher.

"None; booze is the devil in liquid form."

"Won't you have a cigarette?" I said, offering him a sack of Bull Durham and papers. I insulted the old man. He refused to answer.

"What do you think of Shakespeare?" enquired Richardson.

"I haven't time to waste on him. The Bible is good enough for me."

"Do you approve of football?" I asked.

"No, athletics are the work of the devil."

"This fellow is what I call a real broad-minded man. He's a relic of the last century. I didn't know that people of his sort still existed," I said to Richardson.

"Do you ever use the word 'damn'?" Richardson asked him.

"No man with the spirit of Christ would ever use such a word. I refuse to talk to you boys any longer," he concluded, perceiving that we were making fun of him. He sat in silence the rest of the trip and pouted like a five-year-old child.

The rain continued. The wagon wheels became heavy with mud. The horses had hard work pulling the heavy coaches over the roadless fields. The front wheels of one of the wagons sank several feet in the mud and the vehicle was securely anchored. The horses were unable to pull it out. Another team was hitched on. The four horses struggled with the stage while their drivers whipped them up. One horse after another fell in the slippery mud. Not until a third team was hitched on was the wagon extricated from the mud-hole.

We came to a mad rushing stream which seemed impossible to ford. One of the Bedouin drivers stripped off his clothes and waded through to sound the depth and pick a way. The water came up to his shoulders. After a half-hour's deliberation we all agreed to take the chance of crossing. Our stage was the first to go through. The horses at first refused to start. The driver finally urged them in. The water covered their backs and only their heads were above the surface. The stream came in the bed of the high wagon which bounded back and forth over the boulders on the bottom of the river like a rocking cradle. We landed safely. The second stage made the crossing. In mid-stream one of the horses of the third stage lost his footing and fell. He was completely submerged for a moment. He regained his feet and the stage landed safely on the other side. At last all the ten teams came across without mishap. The women of the party were a brave band in the way they tackled the crossing without a murmur. It was a treacherous stream and our safe passage was almost miraculous. Two Englishmen were drowned at this same place the next day.

This was an unusual way to pass Christmas Eve. We continued on over ploughed fields and rocky hills. We forded several little streams. About nine in the evening the lights of Jaffa could be seen in the distance, and we were soon on the road which led into the town and at nearly midnight we arrived. It was a tired crowd that blew into Jaffa that night and I doubt if the little Kamitz Hotel ever lodged a sounder set of sleepers.

The train from Jaffa to Jerusalem is an ancient sample of rolling stock. It winds its way through hillside orange groves and soft plains sprinkled with grazing sheep. The country about Jaffa is the only beautiful portion of Palestine that we saw. We crossed the Plain of Sharon, where the Crusaders fought; we passed Timnath, where Samson set fire to the Philistines' corn and we saw the valley of Ajalon where Joshua commanded the moon to stand still. We arrived in the Holy City at one o'clock in the afternoon of Christmas Day.

"Drive us to the American Colony," said Richardson to a cabman. We drove outside the walls of Jerusalem and in ten minutes we were at the entrance of a large two-story stone building. The door opened and before we had a chance to say a word we were greeted most cordially by a middle-aged man. He at once recognised us as Americans and invited us in.

Fifteen minutes after our arrival in Jerusalem Richardson and I sat down, with one hundred and twenty Americans, to one of the finest Christmas dinners any two human beings ever ate. There was everything served that ever graced a Christmas table. Turkey, cranberry sauce, plum pudding, mince and pumpkin pies, nuts, raisins and candy were placed before us in quantities that bewildered us. Everything was so deliciously cooked that we thought we were in America,--or Heaven. Richardson and I were so hungry that we flew to this grand feast like two men that had never seen food before. We had to put on the brakes to keep from disgracing ourselves at the first meal.

The free-love talk by the American Presbyterian missionary in Cairo was malicious gossip. This rumour probably originated from the fact that the American Colony consisted of a number of people who came to Jerusalem to be present at the second coming of Christ. They thought that this event was soon to take place and they concluded that marriage was not necessary. It was back in the eighties that a score of people from a Chicago Protestant Church, thinking that the second Advent was soon due, came to Jerusalem to be on hand for the event. As time went on the little colony expanded and their plans became more settled. The idea of the second coming was given up and they intermarried in the usual manner. They resolved to live the life of the original Christians at the seat of the foundation of Christianity. Through the years the colony grew by the birth of children and additions from the outside until it numbered at the time of our visit about one hundred and twenty people.

There is not a finer group of people in the world. They are among the most hospitable we have ever met. Every one of them, from the several babes in arms to the fine old men, was an excellent type of American manhood and womanhood. They are known far and wide in the Near East and are spoken of everywhere in the highest terms.

The entire colony lives as one community in a group of substantial stone buildings. There is a common purse, a common table and sitting room. The whole institution is thoroughly systematised and is very efficient. Each member of the household has his or her duties to perform. Some of the women look after the kitchen and dining room; others work in the bakery and a number take care of the bed rooms. There is a school to which all the children are sent for daily instruction. The men devote most of their time to a curio store conducted by the colony in the business section of Jerusalem. This is a well-known store and the best pictures of Palestine, Syria, Egypt and even India are the work of the photographers of the American Colony.

This was the home Richardson and I found and where we spent two of the most interesting and enjoyable weeks of our lives. The hospitality of some people is marvellous. The kindness of the members of the American Colony will stay in our memories forever.

Christmas afternoon Richardson and I walked to Bethlehem, a distance of six miles. It was bitterly cold and a hard wind was blowing. On leaving Jerusalem we descended into the valley of Gihon. We saw the tomb of Rachel which was erected over the place of her death and which is revered by Christians and Moslems as well as Jews.

Bethlehem is a hillside town of eight thousand people. Its houses are built of stone and mud and are huddled close together. Its cobblestoned streets are narrow and steep and are the picturesque scenes of many small markets. We went to the Church of the Nativity, the most interesting place in the village. It is a fine building, but poorly kept. It contains four rows of marble columns, some of the stones of which are said to have once formed a part of the Temple of Jerusalem. The roof is of beams of rough cedar from Lebanon. The nave is the oldest monument of Christian architecture in the world--the sole remaining portion of the grand Basilica erected by the Empress Helena in 327 A.D. In the grotto, or chapel of the Nativity, a silver star in the pavement marks the spot where Christ was born. Fifteen silver lamps are perpetually burning in this chapel.

The Church of the Nativity is under the control of the Turkish government. The edifice has been turned over to the Greek Church which has the main altar, to the Armenians and Copts who have a side altar and to the Latins--as the Roman Catholics are known--who have built an addition to the church for their several altars. This is a unique arrangement--three churches in the same building. The grotto or Nativity chapel is also divided among them. This unity in one building has a sensible sound. It is only apparent unity, however. There were several Turkish soldiers on hand and I was told that they were stationed there day and night throughout the year. They stood within a few feet of the altars with their guns over their shoulders to see that the priests of the various churches do not fight and kill one another as they have done on previous occasions. Christ came as the Prince of Peace--and His representatives stand fighting at His very birthplace!

That evening Richardson and I spent in the living room of the American Colony. These good people were having their Christmas tree celebration. There was an elaborate programme arranged which took place before the distribution of presents. The young women gave a very pretty colonial dance; the little children delivered recitations and there were a number of good vocal and instrumental selections. One of the old men read a portion of the Bible and explained to the children the significance of the Christmas festival. Then the gifts were distributed. The gathering was like a huge family. The five-year-old girl called the white-haired man of eighty "brother" and he called her "sister." It was a very joyous occasion.

Many people are disappointed in Jerusalem. They expect to find a modern city with large hotels, electric lights, telephones and every convenience. Their ideals are harshly shattered when they find themselves in an unsanitary, backward and poorly kept city. It has a population of about eighty thousand people made up of Jews, Bedouins and peasants from the countries that border on the Mediterranean. The city is thronged with lazy priests, who hang about the sacred spots. These shrines are based on tradition and many of them are so far from reason that they are ridiculous. The holy places are not kept clean, the interior decorations of the churches are tawdry and Turkish soldiers are stationed in the buildings to preserve order among the various sects of Christians. These are not attractive features.

Our Chicago gas merchant friend was one of the disappointed ones. He went to Jerusalem expecting too much. I suppose that he thought he would find streets of gold studded with jewels and every human being in it an angel or a saint. He confused the old Jerusalem with the new. He was a staunch Roman Catholic. His disappointment was so keen that his faith in Christianity was nearly shaken.

The American Colony sent one of their number with us to act as our guide in the city. We entered Saint Stephen's Gate and walked along the Via Dolorosa to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. This is a large impressive building, but all the sacred association is at once killed in a person's mind by the ridiculous and petty things under its roof. When an intelligent man is shown the tomb in which Adam is buried and where his skull was discovered he can do nothing but smile. Where is evolution? To point out a spot about six inches in diameter as the centre of the earth may be appropriate information for an ignorant peasant but it is folly to tell such rubbish to an educated man. If this church was simply over the tomb of Christ that would be sufficient, but when so many varied and silly events are commemorated under the same roof an enlightened person naturally shrinks from the whole thing. He is impressed by the ignorance and superstition of the poor pilgrims who crowd in and out of the sacred places by the thousands. He thinks that all these things may be all right for them but he with his knowledge has to reject them.

Richardson and I made the rounds of the many sacred spots and shrines. But these were not of so much interest to us. The city itself, the people, their customs and daily round of life took up our attention. There are no wheeled vehicles in the walled city of Jerusalem. In fact there are none in the whole of Palestine, with the exception of a few cabs about the station in Jerusalem. All freight is carried on the backs of camels or donkeys. The narrow streets of the city, often roofed over like tunnels, are sometimes an endless chain of donkeys carrying heavy loads of grain or other provisions. These thoroughfares are so narrow that we often had to step into the cave-like shops to let a donkey pass. These tunneled streets look like large cement water pipes. At intervals of a few yards there are openings or sky lights through which the sun casts its rays and fresh air circulates.

The Kubbet-es-Sakhra, popularly known as the Mosque of Omar, is the most conspicuous building in Jerusalem. It was erected in the seventh century and is said to stand on the site of Solomon's Temple. Under the dome of the Mosque is the sacred rock upon which a thousand things have happened, if one believes all he hears about it. It contains a foot-print of Mohammed. Beneath this ordinary cobblestone, the like of which Arizona has by the thousands, the waters of the Flood are supposed to roar. Abraham attempted to sacrifice Isaac here. Numerous other things happened in, on and under this boulder--but I didn't have time to listen to them.

Richardson and I were hemmed in at Jerusalem. The sea was so rough at Jaffa that it was impossible for passengers to get to the steamers. The wind and the rain made an overland trip very disagreeable. These conditions delayed us a couple of days. We asked for our bill at the American Colony for our two-weeks' stay. They said we owed them nothing. We wouldn't hear of such a thing, and insisted on making a payment. They suggested that we make a donation, as that was the custom. Richardson gave an amount which was the equivalent of seventy-five cents each a day. It was the finest board and room we ever received for such a price.

Early one morning we set out with a pack mule and a guide to see Palestine by horseback. We were bound for Nazareth.