Domestic Life in Palestine/Chapter 12
CHAPTER XII.
DOMESTIC LIFE IN JERUSALEM.
About an hour before the sun went down, on Holy Saturday, we rode out of the city, glad to breathe the fresh air after the fatigue and excitement of the morning. We passed out of the Yâfa Gate, and went all round Jerusalem, close to the walls. I saw a number of poor peasant-girls coming out of the olive-grove opposite to the Damascus Gate. They wore tattered white cotton vails and home spun purple linen dresses. They were barefooted, but they all looked merry, and carried boughs of trees and flowers in their brown hands. One of the youngest had a branch of hawthorn, with glossy green leaves and several bunches of white blossom on it. It was the first bit of "May" I had seen, and, well pleased, I stopped my horse and asked the girl if she would give me a part of it. She looked up good-naturedly, and, seeing a rosebud fastened in my habit, she said, "Lady, if you will give me the flower which grows in your bosom, you shall have my hawthorn blossom." So we made the exchange.
On the 2d of May news reached us of serious skirmishes between the rival factions in the district of Jenin. The little mud-built village called "Khubeiseh," which we passed through on our way to Kefr Kâra, had been the scene of conflict, and many people whom we knew had been engaged in it.
On the 5th my brother started for Hâifa, by way of Nablûs and Jenin, and I was once more left with my kind friends at the Consulate, where I enjoyed leisure and excellent opportunities for sketching, studying,and observing all that was going on around me. There was no more rain, and the sun was daily increasing in power. English travelers continued to arrive every few days, and I often had the pleasure of accompanying and guiding them in their "Walks about Jerusalem," and their excursions in the neighborhood.
Roses were abundant at this time. It was the season for making rose-water and conserves. The peasant-women brought basket-loads of roses into town every morning. Often at sunrise these women might be seen pausing on their way by a streamlet, to empty their baskets into the rippling water, literally making a bed of roses for the river. Perhaps they do this, as they say, only to wash their flowers, and to make them keep fresh and look as if wet with dew; but I think it is more probable that they wish to make their roses heavy, for they sell them in the market by weight.
On Wednesday, May 7th, a hot, oppressive, sirocco wind prevailed. Early in the afternoon I rode out with little Skander Finn and his cousin L. We went down into the valley of Hinnom, where hawthorns, covered with pink and white blossom, scented the air. The olive-trees were in flower, and the fig-trees green with fresh leaves. We passed the Aceldama, and reached En Rogel. There was no water in the rocky river-bed; however, it had not flowed in vain. The reservoirs were filled, and the parched earth revived. We went a little way down the valley, crossed the dry bed, and dismounted. We climbed half-way up the hill on the left-hand side, and reached a ledge or natural terrace in front of a steep cliff, which L. assured me was caverned, though no signs of a cavern could be seen. The ledge was so overgrown with tall thistles that it was difficult to find a footing; we beat these down, and found the door which they concealed. The top of the door was only slightly above the level of the terrace, which sloped abruptly down to it, like the entrance to an underground cellar, but without any steps. With the help of Hadj Ali and his stick, and by clinging to roots and weeds, we contrived to slide down and pass through the doorway, which I measured, and found it was four feet by seven, cut in the solid rock. After a minute or two we became accustomed to the sudden darkness, and could partially distinguish the objects around us. On the left side, just within the cavern, there was an immense pedestal, quite plain. We went down slipping and sliding, cautiously, one after the other, down deeper and deeper into the darkness, till we came to a column, about twelve feet in circumference, supporting a roof which appeared to me to be about twenty feet above us. The base of this column was far below the level of the door, but as it was nearly opposite to it, it caught on one side a little reflected light, and there maiden-hair grew luxuriantly, but the other sides of the pillar were only clothed with pale mosses and drooping fungus assuming grotesque forms. I removed a mass of maiden-hair to examine the nature of the native rock of which the pillar was formed. It was quite white, and crumbled easily beneath my touch.
In the mean time L. and Skander were exploring the distant recesses, and their spirit-like figures, gliding about in the darkness below, gave some idea of the depth and extent of the cavern. The floor, which was of loamy earth, continued to slope downward. There were three other massive columns; the farthest one, I should think, must be about thirty feet high. My guides warned me not to follow, for they had come to a large, though shallow, pool of water. The rain had streamed down the steep bank, and had made for itself a smooth channel to the bottom of the cavern, carpeting the way with rich soil from the surface of the terrace above. Water was trickling slowly down the walls and from the roof. Bats, disturbed by our approach, blundered against us now and then, and the damp, cold, deathlike atmosphere made us shiver. We climbed up again, and Hadj Ali helped us to reach the thistle-grown terrace in safety. We were gasping for a breath of fresh air, and rested for a minute or two blinking in the dazzling daylight and basking in the warm sunshine. Then we scrambled over rugged rocks and through thickets of thorns and thistles till we came to a large recess in a steep white cliff. It was like a room, entirely open on one side, about eleven feet in hight, ten feet deep, and fourteen feet wide. It was, to all appearance, a natural excavation which had been partially squared by human art. In some places the ceiling looked as if it had once been coated with rough cement. The white walls were rather damp, and were garnished with maiden-hair of the finest kind I had ever seen, and many plants which love the shade were flourishing there. Out of every crevice some delicate leaf or tendril crept. This cave was no doubt formerly inhabited by human beings; kings, priests, and prophets of old may have lodged here.
Skander had climbed higher up the hill, and now called to us, saying, "I have found a wonderful place up here come and see." With difficulty we followed, and found him stretched flat on his face, peering into a dark opening, about one foot high and six feet broad, close to the ground; he said it was like a large fox-hole. I could not possibly enter this cave, but I stopped and looked in, and could see that there were some ancient sepulchers within; I counted four. They were, I believe, cut in the solid rock, and were ornamented with bold, effective moldings and bosses. This place seems to be worthy of careful exploration. The entrance is likely soon to be quite concealed by the stones and débris falling from above, and the tangled masses of vegetation near it. There is no tradition connected with it, and it is on that account, perhaps,that it is so rarely pointed out to travelers.
We mounted and rode homeward, looking toward the south-east corner of the Holy City. The sunlight was gleaming on the terraces just below it, and it tinged with an emerald luster the fields of barley there. On the right, above En Rogel, the ruins of Siloam appeared, and we could just see Absalom's Pillar.[1] As we rode round the base of Mount Zion, Hadj Ali gathered a beautiful branch of a pomegranate-tree, covered with bright blossoms, the first I had seen that year.
We remembered that Ramadan, the month when the followers of Mohammed fast by day and feast by night, had commenced on the previous Sunday; so we hastened on, that Hadj Ali might prepare his evening meal, and be ready to eat it at the moment of the firing of the "mogarib," the signal gun at sunset—the sound so welcome to hungering and thirsty Moslems. Poor Hadj Ali had not taken food or even smoked a pipe since sunrise. This fast, which lasts for thirty days, is observed with extra ordinary fidelity by people of all classes.[2]
On Thursday, May 28th, I was invited to visit the new schools for young Jewesses, established by Sir Moses Montefiore. The morning was bright and dazzling. We passed the barracks, and entered the street leading to the Armenian convent. The sun was almost vertical, and the polished stone pavement reflected back the heat and light. The high walls of the houses on each side scarcely cast a line of shadow: only the little casement windows jutting out here and there, and the bright flowers which climbed through the trellis-work, or hung from the roofs, traced fantastic and delicate shadows on the ground. Not a breath of air was stirring. It was midday, and no one was to be seen in the broad, unsheltered, silent street, where even the dogs were sleeping, as if overcome by the heat and light. We turned to the left and passed a walled-up archway, once the entrance to an ancient mosque. We skirted the back of the Armenian convent, and thus reached the Jewish quarter, and were very soon knocking at the school-house door, over which there was a well-engraved Hebrew inscription.
While we waited for admittance, I looked up at the windows. Two were square, unsheltered openings; a third jutted far out from the wall, and through its quaint and fanciful wooden lattice we could see bright and rare flowers; the fourth was a large, square oriel window, supported by a stone bracket, and protected by an iron balcony. A crowd of happy-looking children were peeping from it. One dark-eyed little creature had a red cloth tarbûsh on the back of her head, and a rose in her black hair. The others wore soft muslin kerchiefs of various colors, tied tastefully on their heads.
We entered the door, crossed a small court, and were led up an open staircase on to a terrace, the low, broad walls of which were converted into a garden. Flower-pots had been imbedded in the masonry, at regular distances, along the top of the parapets. Thus a sort of floral battlement was formed, and produced an excellent effect; for the plants were kept nearly all of the same size and hight. The rose-bushes, pinks, and cloves, in full flower, contrasted well with the dark-leaved myrtle, the cape jasmine, and the white walls.
We were politely received in this court by a Spanish Jewess, who conducted us into a light, cheerful room, containing animated groups of girls, varying in age from seven to fourteen, perhaps. I counted thirty-one children; but the full number usually assembled there was thirty five. Eight forms and a double row of desks gave quite a European character to the room, and the raised, pulpit-like seat of the teacher indicated order and authority.
The girls were nearly all engaged at needle-work, and our guide exhibited to us, with evident pride and pleasure, a considerable stock of wearing apparel, the result of one week's work in that room. The simple garments were very nicely made, considering that most of the little workers did not know how to sew six or seven months before. The mistress could not tell us what was done with the work when finished, as it passed from her hands at the end of each week. The children looked busy and bright. Some of them were singularly beautiful. One tall and stately girl of about fourteen was acting the part of monitor, and she answered our questions, in Arabic, with the utmost modesty and self-possession, and glided among her little pupils with native grace and dignity. All these children were natives of Palestine; they spoke Arabic, and wore the Arab costume. Their heads were, without exception, covered either with muslin kerchiefs, or with the simple red tarbûsh.
The windows of this room were large, and thrown wide open. They looked eastward, and commanded views of the whole extent of Olivet, and the misty Moab Mountains far away. The midday breeze sprang up suddenly, and slightly cooled the fiery air.
After lingering for a short time to enjoy the prospect, we were led to another room, equally large, light, and airy. Here we found about thirty children, under the care of two female teachers. One tiny little creature was learning a Hebrew lesson, and carefully spelling words of two letters. Another child of seven or eight was reading, with very little hesitation, some Scripture history. The other children were seated comfortably, and with perfect ease and freedom, yet without disorder, upon mats, or in the deep, carpeted window-seat. There I recognized the happy faces which I had seen from the street below. They looked up at me smiling, as much as to say, "We know you again; we saw you waiting at the door."
They were all at needle-work, and I could not help observing the extreme delicacy and beauty of their hands. If, as it is said, this is a distinguishing feature of noble birth, then these young daughters of Israel are of princely race. Some of the little hands were stained with henna, and almost all the nails were tinted, and looked like the delicate, rose-colored shells we find on the sands on English shores.
The children were uniformly neat and clean, and there was a picturesque variety of costume there that struck us pleasantly, contrasting with our recollections of the ugly uniforms in some of our public schools at home and abroad. As we were retiring, a shy little creature summoned up courage to give me the rose from her hair, and then she peeped at me slyly between her tapering fingers.
These two rooms were set apart expressly for the children of parents belonging to the Sephardim Congregation, consisting of the Spanish and Portuguese Jews settled in Jerusalem.
We were now led down-stairs again to the open court, which we crossed; and, after ascending another stairway, we found ourselves in the school of the Ashekenazi Congregation, formed of German, Russian, and Polish Jews. Here there were fifteen children, and they all seemed to be under seven years of age. They were much more fair, though less beautiful, than those in the other rooms. They were sitting, very much at their ease, perched up on the sloping desks, with their little feet resting on the forms. How thoughtful and kind it was to allow them this freedom during the hot weather! There was not a sign of fatigue, or any expression of rebellion against restraint, in any of the young faces around us. There was activity of mind and rest of body, in a pure air.
The Jews of Jerusalem are especially careful not to allow their children to associate with Christians or Moslems; and they will not suffer them to stray away from home, or play in the streets, for fear they should learn bad habits, or be constrained or induced to be baptized into a Christian Church. Consequently, the little ones were confined nearly all day in the close, ill-ventilated, small rooms of the Jewish quarter, till this school was established. Here they assembled early in the morning, and, taking proper hours for rest, recreation, and for meals, returned home at sunset. Already a great improvement was observed in their appearance; they looked more healthy, and their lives were happier.
A little girl of five years of age, with pink cheeks, blue eyes, and hair almost white, was reading aloud from some Hebrew volume, and was evidently interested by it. I cautiously inquired whether she knew by heart all that fell so fluently from her lips. I was assured that I was listening to genuine reading.
We went down-stairs to the second German room, where most of the girls were between thirteen and fifteen years of age, and the rest younger. We heard two of the eldest read, with emphasis, several pages from the Life of Moses—a book written expressly for the use of women and children. It is a paraphrase of the Bible history of Moses, in a curious, harsh dialect, being a compound of Hebrew and German. It is printed in Hebrew characters, and embellished with quaint and curious wood-cuts, in the style of the followers of Albert Dürer.
In these two rooms fifty-five pupils generally muster. The housekeeper, who had guided us from room to room, then led us to her own, and exhibited some shirts, which she and the elder pupils had been making to order. They were stitched and hem-stitched, and neatly finished off. She seemed delighted with our approval and praise; for this shirt-making was quite a new accomplishment, as the Jews of the East wear much more simple under-garments than these.
We took leave of her, and I returned to the Consulate, very tired. My friends went on to the Rothschild Schools, of which they afterward gave me a very favorable report.
When I was in Jerusalem, in 1859 I made inquiries about these schools, especially the one established by Sir M. Montefiore, intending to visit it again. To my surprise and regret, I was told that it no longer existed; and I could not obtain any satisfactory account of it, or understand why it was broken up. I suppose that Oriental indifference to female education is the chief cause.
On the 13th of May, Mrs. Finn, in behalf of the "Jerusalem Agricultural Association," purchased a portion of the beautiful valley of Urtas. I witnessed the making and concluding of the bargain. Ten of the fiercest and wildest looking Arabs I had seen were assembled in the office of the Consulate, with their chief, a tall, powerful man, called Sheikh Saph, whose family, local tradition says, has for ages been distinguished for the hight and strength of its men.[3]
Mrs. Finn came forward, and stood in the midst of the group of men, and said, "O Sheikh, do you agree to sell?" and Sheikh Saph answered, "I agree to sell, O my lady; do you agree to buy?" and Mrs. Finn replied, "I buy, O Sheikh." Then the purchase-deed, which had been already prepared, was read over, signed, and sealed; and one hundred and fifty sovereigns were counted slowly into the hands of the Sheikh. He received the gold with great gravity and seeming indifference; but his men looked on eagerly, with hawk-like eyes. After this, about a hundred coins, of small value, were thrown on the office-floor, according to custom, and were eagerly scrambled for by all present. Thus the exact sum paid for the ground could not be ascertained. This method of selling any thing, for a known and an unknown sum, is called "a sale by the uncounted group." When this precaution is neglected in dealing with Arab tribes, a purchaser may be obliged to yield up property to its original owner at any moment, for the amount of the purchase-money.
Sheikh Saph and his two chief followers were invited into the drawing-room to take coffee. They made strong professions and promises of faith and good will toward their "noble lady, Mrs. Finn," saying, that they would protect the property at the risk of their lives, and as if it were still their own. They went away evidently quite satisfied with the transaction.
On the 15th, Mr. and Mrs. Finn went to Urtâs, to stay there for a few days, for change of air, and to superintend the arrangements for inclosing and cultivating the recently purchased land. I was invited to spend a day with them, in company with an English traveler, Mr. W., and Skander Finn. We started from the Consulate at sunrise, and rode quickly across the plain of Rephaim to Rachel's Sepulcher, and over the hills by Bethlehem. A well-mounted kawass led the way, and a mule carrying Debihu, the Abyssinian servant, and a tent, followed. We reached the pleasant valley in about two hours. It looked to me more beautiful than ever, with its rippling streams, its flourishing fruit trees, and rose-bushes covered with flowers.
We found our friends waiting for us, seated at the wide entrance of a dry cave, in a white limestone rock, just above the new garden-ground. We went together up to Mr. Meshullam's cottage. His wife showed me a large sieve full of fine roses, which had been gathered before sunrise. We breakfasted in the rose-scented room, and then rested for a short time on the cushioned stone divan, under a large fig-tree, the thickly-growing leaves of which now afforded perfect shelter.
A ride was proposed, and we mounted. Mr. Finn led the way in a south-westerly direction, over a steep and pathless hill, which looked as if it had never been traversed except by wild goats and conies. When we commenced descending, we found it necessary to dismount; and, one after another, we led our horses, slipping and sliding, over large smooth inclined slabs of rock and loose stones, till we reached a broad level platform, where rich earth had rested, and formed a bed for wild flowers. Here we paused for those of our party who had prudently taken an easier route round the base of the hill. They presently overtook us, and we were reminded that Amos, the herdsman and prophet, who said, "Shall horses run upon the rock?" dwelt not far from here, and very likely he had often seen them stumbling or stepping cautiously over such hills as this. We rode all together up a narrow winding valley, where wild thyme and heath, and blue, yellow, red, and white salvias, grew abundantly among the gray rocks, which were half-covered with orange-colored lichen. The air was warm and fragrant.
At the head of the valley there was a rounded hill, crowned by a low clump of trees, which sheltered a white tent. The northern and western slopes were green with bearded barley. This lovely patch of cultivated land contrasted strangely with the wild hills around, where there was not any sign of human industry. Mr. Meshullam enjoyed our surprise, and then explained how he had cleared the land and sown it, and made a little garden on the top of the hill. The soil was very rich in quality, but rather thinly spread over the surface of the rock.[4] There were higher hills rising beyond, and sheltering this retreat. We ascended gradually, till we reached the highest point in the range, which commanded a wide prospect in every direction.
Looking eastward, I at once recognized the Dead Sea, calm and blue, and the long line of the Moab Mountains beyond; but the rest of the view all around was to me, as well as to Mr. W., only a maze of white, gray, and brown hills, and dark valleys checkered with cloud-shadows, without any roads or landmarks.
Mr. Finn read the landscape round for us, and its features soon grew familiar to me. We were looking eastward, and he said, "That dark ravine to the right, in the range of rocks on this side of the Dead Sea, is the Valley of the Wilderness of Engeddi, where David dwelled in strongholds' during his exile. That peak, like an extinct volcano, which rises above the surrounding hills, is the Frank Mountain, called by the Arabs, 'Jebel Furidus,' that is, the Lesser Paradise Mount. A little way to the right of it, on that terraced and rounded hill, are the ruins of Tekoa, where Amos guarded flocks and herds, and gathered wild figs, in the days of Uzziah, King of Judah, two years before the earthquake. We will go there some day, and look for a wise woman." Turning toward the north-east, he said, "Do you notice a depression in that long range? Look a little to the left of it, and you will distinguish the leaden roof of the Convent of Bethlehem, and then you can make out the surrounding buildings. Farther north is Mount Olivet; and, now that a black cloud is passing over Jerusalem, you can plainly see two tall minarets rising white and bright out of the city."
Many of the hills, especially in the south and east, were crowned with ruins, and showed signs of former cultivation, but now they were deserted. The stone walls of the ancient terraces were broken down, and the earth washed away, and, where vines and fig-trees once grew, thorns and thistles had sprung up—the whole land truly is made silent and desolate. We were overlooking a large portion of the division of the tribe of Judah. See Jer. vii, 34–"I will cause to cease from the cities of Judah the voice of mirth, and the voice of gladness, the voice of the bridegroom, and the voice of the bride: for the land shall be desolate." A string of camels and a few horsemen were hastening across the country, and now and then we caught sight of them. Here and there a few black tents were pitched and flocks were feeding, but there was nothing else to give life to the landscape.
The wind, which had been gradually rising, now blew so violently that we could scarcely stand against it. The cloud which had overshadowed Jerusalem was whirled far away, and unless we had known exactly where to look, and what to look for, we could not possibly have distinguished the hill on which the city stands from the rocky hills which encircle it. We were reminded of the words of Carlyle: "The eye only sees that which it brings with it the power of seeing." We rode down into the valley for shelter, but we were presently tempted to ascend the opposite hill, for we saw some square black tents among the low trees and bushes. We rode up to the encampment and dismounted, and were soon surrounded by a group of dusky Arabs. They had cultivated a little patch of ground with barley and beans, and a few wild olive-trees grew at the base of the hill. Their half-naked little children were playing with the goats, jumping from rock to rock and rolling on the ground; the elder ones were gathering wood for the fire. The women were attending to a caldron of rice, which was suspended gipsy-fashion over a wood-fire in the open air. They clustered round Mrs. Finn and me, examining us with curiosity, especially wondering at our gloves and boots. They all looked rather languid and fatigued—the effect probably of the daily fasting, for they were very rigid Moslems of Bethlehem origin. We asked them how long they intended to remain there? They replied, "We shall remain here till Ramadan is past."[5]
From the top of the hill the flash of the "mogarib," or sunset gun from the citadel at Jerusalem, could be seen, and, partly on that account, they had chosen the spot for their encampment. Besides this attraction, there was water near, and pasture for their flocks, and dwarf oak-trees, and resinous shrubs and thorns, which they cut down for fuel. The gum-cistus flourished there, and was covered with wide open, delicate blossoms, white, pink, and lilac, which fell off when the flowers were gathered, and fluttered away in the breeze like butterflies.
We remounted and went by another route toward Urtâs, making our way along narrow wadys, and crossing ridges, where tall hollyhocks and the hibiscus abounded. Presently we came to a hill on which there were extensive and interesting ruins. We dismounted and scrambled up among rocks, hewed stones, and thistles, and thorn-bushes, which grew on the ancient terraces. When we reached the plateau on the top of the hill, Mr. Finn, who had previously explored the place, pointed out to us the foundation of a very large building, divided into compartments. The walls had been broken down, but in some parts they stood four feet high. They were built of very large, well beveled blocks of stone, not joined together with mortar, but the interstices were filled up with finely-crushed stones. The ground was strewed with tesseræ about three-quarters of an inch square, with which all the inclosed spaces had evidently been paved.
From the style of the masonry and the general outline, Mr. Finn judged that this was a good example of Jewish workmanship of an early period, and as ancient as any existing in the country. The buildings must have covered a large space, and were apparently all connected with the central and principal one. The Arabs call this ruin the "Dar el Benât"—that is, the house or "retreat of girls;" but they have no tale to tell about it. There is no historical notice or tradition of any Christian convent having existed here at any time; and there is not the slightest indication of Christian art in the general ground-plan. The great beveled stones which are scattered all over the hill, and rest in heaps in the valley below, as if thrown down by an earthquake, are exactly like the stones of which Solomon's Pools and other ancient works are formed. Mr. Finn suggested that this was possibly one of the places of which Solomon spoke when he said, "I made me great works; I builded me houses." And the singular traditionary name, "Dar el Benât," which has clung to it, may signify that this was an establishment connected with Solomon's harem, which, it is said, contained "seven hundred wives and three hundred concubines."
I can imagine the time when the now fallen walls were standing, and inclosing cool chambers, columned corridors, terraces, courts, fountains, and gardens of citrons and roses; when the hill-sides were covered with vines, and the valley below was well watered, and brought forth all kinds of goodly fruits and fragrant spices. Gathered together there, I see in fancy "virgins without number;" agile and graceful mountaineers from the Lebanon; proud and stately daughters of Jerusalem; sweet, shy girls from the plains of Sharon; and the fairest of the fair maidens of Shunem; contrasting with the dark loveliness of the melancholy young African exiles, who wore "the shadowed livery of the burnished sun," and gloried in the tints he made them wear.[6]
Guarded by "valiant men of Israel," and surrounded by handmaidens and slaves, they were nursed here in luxury and splendor—decked with ornaments of gold, and silver, and precious stones—clothed with raiments of fine linen, and silk, and embroidered work—anointed with oil, and perfumed with sweet odors. Every art was employed that could add a new charm to beauty. I can hear their songs of rejoicing when the Winter rains passed away and the flowers appeared on the earth. I can see them early in the morning in the vineyards, or on the stairs cut in the rock on the hill-side, going down into the garden of nuts, to see the fruits of the valley—to see whether the vine flourished and the pomegranate budded; and to this day, at every marriage festival in the country, their wild, picturesque, and passionate love-songs are echoed in a language very nearly allied to their own. On this subject I hope, on some future occasion, to speak more fully, in some notes on the Life and Times of Solomon, and his Song of Songs.
We lingered a long time among the ruins. I picked up a handful of tesseræ, and then went down to the valley. We found traces here and there of a rocky staircase, the joint work of nature and art. At the base of the hill wild pomegranates and the arbutus grew. Just as we were mounting I saw on the top of a seemingly-inaccessible heap of rocks and hewed stones a very fine honeysuckle. Mr. W. determined to gather it for us. He leaped across the deep dry bed of the Winter torrent, and climbed over the bushes and rocks, and soon returned in triumph with such a large, bright trophy of pink hollyhocks, at least five feet high, and long, trailing branches of the honeysuckle, that it frightened all the horses as he approached. We rode on, laden with flowers. The honeysuckle smelled very sweet; its blossoms were large, and of a pale-yellow color, shaded with white and pink.
We made our way quickly to Urtâs, and after dinner we sat for a short time under the fig-tree. The peasants came down from the ancient village above to look at us, and we took the opportunity of putting some of them into our sketch-books. Then we mounted, and had a delightful ride back to Jerusalem. It was long past sunset when we reached the gates, but the keeper of the key had been detained to admit us.
Thus the Spring-time passed pleasantly. Day after day my attention and my interest had been excited by scenes and incidents which vividly illustrated the treasured records of the past, and threw new light for me on Hebrew chronicle and Gospel story. I had seen and entered into the spirit of human life in all its progressive stages. I had found shelter in the tents of lawless wanderers, and claimed sisterhood with Bedouin girls. I had lingered among more peaceful tribes, who dwell in patriarchal simplicity in stationary tents, surrounded by flocks and herds. I had lodged with the fellahîn, in their rude villages of mud and stone, encircled by orchards, gardens, fields of grain, and pasture-land, and had associated with the townspeople, the great men, the law-makers, and the governors of the land. In the mean time I had occasionally enjoyed the society of some of the most highly cultivated and noble representatives of the civilized nations of Europe. I could find some meeting-point of sympathy with all, and I truly felt that "one touch of nature makes the whole world kin."
My desire to make my friends in England share my pleasures, and to enable them to see, as far as possible, a true reflex of all that I saw, led me to look carefully and earnestly on all things. I seemed to possess unusual strength and power of resisting fatigue, and acquired habits of ceaseless and minute observation. My pen and pencil were almost always in use. Friendly voices often said, "You are working too hard; you do not take sufficient rest;" or, "Unless you work with less intensity you will suffer sooner or later. In this country, at this season, it is absolutely necessary to have a little sleep or perfect repose at midday."
I did not take warning, and at last sleepless nights came, and were followed by weary days and loss of appetite, and my almost unnaturally-excited and overtaxed strength suddenly gave way. I remember one hot night, after in vain trying to sleep, I rose and sat in one of the eastern windows of the Consulate on Mount Zion, and watched for the rising of the sun over the Mount of Olives. I waited for a long time before there was any change in the cool gray sky or any colors on the dusky earth. Everything was as still as death. Presently there was a pale, golden tinge in the east, and the dark mountains of Moab grew dim and shadowy in misty light; the brightness rose up into the heavens, which suddenly became orange, blue, and rose-colored. The tall date palm-trees, so black and so motionless a moment before, now stirred their green fronds gently, and the delicate yellow grasses on the house-tops and on the terraces quivered and shook as if just awakened out of sleep, and birds fluttered from their nests chirping and twittering in chorus; but it was some time before the sun appeared above Mount Olivet. That was on the 26th of May. Afterward I became weaker and weaker, taking no note of time; sometimes riding out very gently into an olive-grove to rest under the trees, while I idly watched the children at their play, or the flickering shadows of wide-winged birds, or the busy insects creeping in and out among the stones and the wild flowers. But there were days when I could not rise from my bed, and sometimes I thought that I should die there. For two or three days I was quite deaf through extreme weakness. The late Dr. Macgowan was unremitting in his attention, and I never shall forget the kindness of my nurses, of whom Mrs. Finn was the chief.
On the 18th of June Um Issa, one of the servants, came to my bedside, and said gently, in Arabic, "Be glad and rejoice, for now you will be well quickly. The Consul has come, God be praised!" From that time I began to recover, and the next day I rode up with my brother to Mr. Graham 's little tower on Mount Olivet, and took up my abode there for a few weeks. It is a genuine Arab structure. On the ground floor are stables and a kitchen; and a vaulted chamber above, with a broad window in a deep recess, serves as the sitting-room. A few stone steps lead to the flat roof, which forms a pleasant terrace, and is protected by a low wall, as are most of these flat roofs, and as they must have been anciently, in obedience to the law: " When thou buildest a new house, then thou shalt make a battlement for thy roof, that thou bring not blood upon thine house, if any man fall from thence." Deut. xxii, 8. From this terrace we had almost a bird's-eye view of Jerusalem. Looking down the slope of Olivet, sprinkled with trees and rugged with rocks, we saw the deep Valley of Jehoshaphat, which separated us from the city.
Mr. Graham and my brother went into the city every morning, and I used to sit in the window-seat sweeping the landscape with an excellent telescope, watching the worshipers in the mosque area, or gazing on the hills round about Jerusalem, till every one became as familiar to me as the face of a friend.
The olives and fig-trees around were flourishing, the pomegranates were in full leaf and blossom, and the fruit was beginning to form. The patches of wheat and barley on the terraces had been reaped, and thorns and thistles were springing up in the stubble-fields. My friends from the Consulate used to come sometimes to spend the midday hours with me, and my brother generally arrived in time for an evening stroll. This quiet life brought back my strength, and I could again use my pen and pencil with delight and with an untrembling hand; and, by taking regular hours of rest, I found that I could work and enjoy all pleasant sights and sounds without suffering any ill effects.
On Saturday I noticed that large companies of women gathered together on the slope of the opposite hill, below the St. Stephen 's Gate. They sat in little groups under the olive-trees. They were all shrouded in white sheets, but many of them took off their mundîls, or muslin face-vails, thinking themselves quite out of sight of strangers—but I could distinguish their features through the telescope.
Ropes were fastened to the tree-branches, and the children began to swing with great glee. The women followed the example, and seemed thoroughly to enjoy the monotonous movement. By midday there were more than a hundred women assembled, besides groups of children, so restless that I could not count them, attended by unvailed Abyssinian servants.
Several black men came out of the St. Stephen's Gate, carrying provisions; they handed them to the female servants, and then went away directly. Soon a number of circular trays were placed in the shade and covered with simple food and sweetmeats. Water was poured from jars over the hands of the women, and then they sat on the ground round the well-filled dishes. They were not nearly so silent over their meal as men are. They lingered over it, and I could see that they were laughing and talking merrily. Then they washed their hands again, and took coffee and smoked narghilés while the servants had their dinner; and they all remained there, some sleeping and others chatting, under the trees, till an hour before sunset, when they vailed themselves closely and went into the city. It is a very common practice in the Summer-time to keep holiday thus.
On Friday, the 4th of July, the wind rose suddenly at midday, and was so violent that I was obliged to have all the casements closed, and even then the curtains were blown about and papers fluttered through the rooms, yet the heat was intense.
On Saturday, the 5th, I went with my brother, early in the afternoon, to the little village on the top of the central point of Olivet. We called at the house adjoining the mosque. We entered a court and mounted a steep stone stairway, and reached a broad terrace, with high, raised, stone divans on each side of the arched entrance to a large but low room. Carpets and cushions were quickly brought out and spread on the raised seats, and a handsome Moslem, the son of an effendi of some note in Jerusalem, who was staying up there for change of air, invited us to make ourselves at home.
In a few minutes, the master of the house, a fine, gray-bearded, turbaned sheikh, joined us. After we had taken sherbet, coffee, and a narghilé, he opened the door at the base of the minaret, and we groped our way up the winding stairs to the top, and then stood in the balcony, silent with delight at the wonderful prospect which presented itself. Looking eastward over the wilderness of bossy hills, we saw a large expanse of the Dead Sea, with the Moab Mountains beyond, stretching far away north and south. The sun shone magnificently, shedding a halo of glory on every object. In the foreground of the view a wely, or dome, stood on a rounded hill, which was covered with olive and fig trees. This is called the Dome of the Witnesses. Beyond this, there was no sign of life—all was desolate. But, looking westward, we could see Jerusalem stretched out like a map beneath us, and there were evidences of human skill and industry on almost all the hills.
While we were there, the Cancellière of the French Consulate and M. Gilbert joined us. The latter said that Kamîl Pasha had been to the castle to call on us, and, hearing where we were, had followed us. So we went down on to the terrace to meet him.
Our host asked me, in a low voice, if I would visit his harem, as his wives had expressed a wish to see me. With my brother's permission, I went. The old man led me through a court, and up on to a terraced roof, where an elderly woman, the wife of his youth, awaited me. He went away, and she said, "Welcome, O my daughter; we have heard of you, and have been longing to see you and speak with you." She took me into a little garden on the house-top, and two handsome women, with features of Egyptian character, came forward to greet me. They wondered that I ventured to remain in the lonely castle on the hill, and said, "We dare not live there. God has given courage to English girls." I then inquired how many English girls they had known. "We know you, and we have known one other only. She was a girl who lived in the castle for a long time with her father." I found that they referred to the daughter of Mr. Barclay, the author of the "City of the Great King." They asked after her with warm-hearted kindness.
Suddenly, while we were speaking, the two younger wives started up, and went to the other side of the garden, crouched down in the shadow of the wall, and made their way cautiously down to their rooms. I said, "What has disturbed you?" The old wife, who did not move, directed my attention to a window, or rather a small square opening, in a house not far off. A man was looking from it, evidently surprised to see a stranger there, for he lifted up some children to look at me. The old woman said, "Never mind, let us gather some flowers before we go down." There were dahlias, hollyhocks, balsams, scavias, African marigolds, everlastings, roses, sweet basil, and myrtles in full blossom. I made a bouquet of the three last, and the woman said, "Why have you passed all the other flowers to take these ?" I said, "These are the flowers I love the best for their scent and for their beauty." She said, "Even as you love one flower better than another, so God loves one creature more than another. You are one of the favorites of God, and he protects you in all dangers."
She wore by her side a flat gold box, about four inches wide and six inches long, suspended by a double chain. It was engraved with sentences from the Koran, and she said that it contained a charm against the power of an evil eye, and against sorcery. I told her I never wore charms. She replied, "You do not require any—no one can hurt you."
We went down into the women's room. The two young wives were waiting for us at the wide-open door, and had prepared coffee and sweetmeats for me. The room was large and low, without any windows; there were small holes near the ceiling.
I saw several young children. They seemed very much neglected, and the flies were allowed to tease them terribly, clustering on the edges of their unwashed eyelids, and buzzing about their sugar-crusted lips.
The sun was going down, and the muezzin cried out from the minaret close by, so I rejoined my brother; and we retired, to allow our Moslem friends to enjoy their evening meal. I went several times afterward, to sketch from the minaret, and to see the women.
On Sunday morning, July 6th, I sat alone in the window seat of my home, on Mount Olivet, and watched the funeral of a Moslem woman. The procession issued from the St. Stephen's Gate. Some soldiers and other men carried the open bier. The body, covered with a sheet, was lying down flat, but the head was very much raised, and the face concealed by a mundîl. The open grave was close by the wayside. A number of men were grouped around it, and some women were watching from the slope above, wailing wildly, swaying their bodies to and fro, and throwing up their arms, as if pleading passionately. The clumsy bier was propped against a rock, and the dead body fell into an awkward sitting posture. Two men went down into the grave, and quite disappeared. The corpse was then removed from the bier, the sheet was taken off, and disclosed a figure just like an Egyptian mummy. It was handed, not very gently or reverently, to the men below, and then eight men held the sheet over the opening. After a minute or two the sheet was withdrawn, the men who had been covering up the body appeared above ground, and the grave was quickly closed. The crowd dispersed, and in a short time all was quiet again.
It was a very hot day, and I was quite alone, for I had been persuaded not to venture into the town to church. At about three o'clock, I saw a large body of irregular Turkish troops issuing from the St. Stephen's Gate. They rode in single file down into the valley, and then rose up the sides of Olivet, along the path toward the village above. They all carried guns, and most of them had long spears. They were dressed with no attention to uniformity, but nearly every one wore a red and yellow silk kefia, or fringed shawl head-dress. I counted fifty-two in the first detachment, but others followed in small parties, took the road along the valley, and disappeared behind the Garden of Gethsemane.
A little before sunset my brother returned, and, in answer to my questions about the soldiers, said, "They were on their way to Abu Dis, a village on the other side of the hill, which is now in arms against El Tûr, the village just above us. Several skirmishes have taken place during the last three days, and a few people have been killed on both sides. The Pasha is now determined to put a stop to the fighting. His Excellency has just now told me that he intends to encamp up here, and will have his tents pitched near to this tower." He did so, and shortly afterward his pretty green tents were to be seen under the olive-trees.
On Tuesday, July 8th, Mr. Graham and my brother returned from the town early and said, "Now put on something that clay will not spoil and rocks will not tear, and we will take you to explore the Tombs of the Prophets."
Having equipped myself accordingly, and provided wax candles, we rode up to the top of the hill through the little dusty village of El Tûr. We traversed the large cucumber gardens beyond it, and entered a fine mulberry orchard. A troop of half-naked little brown boys were up in the trees, gathering the ripe and abundant fruit and shouting merrily; while a few women, in purple linen dresses and white cotton vails, stood beneath with large trays and baskets made of reeds, which they were rapidly filling. We alighted under the trees. One woman, who seemed to have authority over all the rest, advanced to me and gave me some of the fruit. I had never tasted finer mulberries. Then, to my surprise, I was led to the mouth of a circular well, quite dry, and nearly filled up with dust and rubbish. We got down into this and crept through a hole in the side, and crawled along a winding and descending way on our hands and feet till we found ourselves in a circular chamber in which we could stand upright. It was about twenty-four feet in diameter, and in the middle about ten feet high. A little light came into it from a hole pierced through the solid rock above. Here we lighted our candles, and Mr. Graham drew my attention to three holes leading in different directions. He entered the central one, moving backward and pushing his way along on the ground. I crawled in head-foremost and much more easily. We were gradually descending, and presently came to a corridor which branched off in a curve on each side, forming part of a circle of which the chamber we had left seemed to be the center. This corridor was about ten feet high and six feet broad; it was vaulted and cemented, and the floor, of rock, was made level. There were a great number of chambers and niches in the walls, but there were no remains of coffins of any kind. From this gallery, which was only a quadrant, other passages branched off. We entered one which led us to a gallery of the same kind, but larger, and forming part of a more extended circle. Mr. Graham advised us not to venture into the passages which he had not previously explored, for they are rather puzzling, and the place is quite a maze to an unguided stranger. The outer quadrant is said to be 115 feet in length, and sixty feet distant from the circular chamber which is its center. The passages which lead to and unite the two quadrants are roughly hewn in the rock. Some of the narrowest ones look like natural fissures. The ground on which we walked or crawled was close, firm, and dry, and neither dusty nor sandy.
The atmosphere was chilly and yet oppressive. We made our way back to the mouth of the well, and were glad to see the sunshine through the green leaves of the mulberry trees, and to breathe the fragrant air again.[7]
The range of Olivet is divided by slight depressions into three parts. On the northern hill the little tower which we occupied is the most conspicuous object. The central and highest elevation is crowned by the village El Tûr. On the southern hill there are no buildings, but the olive-trees are more numerous than op any other part of the range. We mounted and rode southward, pausing under the trees on the brow of the hill. Looking toward Jerusalem we saw a large party of Bashi-Bazûks galloping up the hill and entering the city gates. The sun was going down. In a few minutes afterward we heard shouts and songs of triumph, and a troop of armed villagers made their appearance. There were about one hundred, and they marched in irregular order along the winding, rocky path just below us, close to Siloam. My brother said, "That is the little army which was sent forth by Siloam to take part in the fight up here."
As we returned to El Tûr, we were overtaken by a bright-looking peasant boy, singing lustily. He was riding on a little black donkey, which came leaping and dancing along as if he were as merry as his rider. The boy stopped his song and the donkey immediately stood still, as if it were an understood arrangement. We found they were pausing by the side of a well, and I also waited there to let my horse drink from the stone trough close by. An old man had just filled it from a goatskin. The boy told us that there had been a hard fight over the hill that day, and added, "Five souls were killed." However, it turned out that two of these souls were horses. We stopped in the village to speak to the old sheikh of the mosque. He said, "Good-night, and God's blessing be upon you, O my daughter!" I answered, "A hundred good-nights to you, O my father!" The moon was shining brightly when we reached the tower.
On the 18th of July I went into town to stay at the late Rev. J. Nicolayson's for a few days, that I might take leave of all my friends in Jerusalem and make preparations for starting for Hâifa. When all was in readiness, my tent was pitched at the Talibîyeh, where Mr. Finn had encamped again. Mr. Graham was on the eve of departure for England, much to the regret of the Jewish converts and even of the most steadfast Jews of Jerusalem, to whom he had shown unfailing kindness. Mrs. Finn and her coadjutors in the management of the Jewish Plantation, and Mr. Meshullam and his family, united in publicly testifying their sense of his kindness, by inviting the principal Israelitish Christians living in Jerusalem to spend Thursday, July 24th, at Urtâs, to meet him and his friends, among whom we were included.
By this time my readers know the road to the pleasant gardens of Urtâs. The scenery was slightly changed, for the corn was all reaped, and green millet was growing on the plains.
We reached the valley at an early hour. The little stone house could not accommodate one-half of the party, so we were conducted by Mr. Meshullam to a guest-chamber made ready for the occasion. It was the joint work of nature and art. Three sides of it were formed of the steep rugged rocks, like seaside cliffs; a fourth wall had been built up of hewn stone, and was furnished with a wide door, for this place was ordinarily used as a stable for cows, horses, and camels. It is about fifty feet by thirty. Two large fig-trees grew in the middle, and their leafy branches made an appropriate roof. Divans, cushions, and carpets had been spread on the ground, and over these, boughs and leaves of sweet lemon and citron were strewn. On the ledges of the brown and yellow rocks a few wild flowers grew, and one tall wild hollyhock stood proudly in a corner, covered with pink blossoms. Wild honeysuckles crept from the slope above, and festooned the rude walls. A table was arranged in the center, and breakfast was spread.
There were twenty-three Christian Israelites present, besides Mr. Graham and about a dozen of his friends, with Mr. and Mrs. Finn, and the Rev. J. Nicolayson. The latter, after breakfast, stood in the shade of a rock, and addressed the company present with affectionate and earnest gravity. The Rev. Mr. Hefter, an Israelite, then rose and spoke to his brethren, "and when they heard that he spake in the Hebrew tongue, they kept the more silence." Mr. Nicolayson repeated to us in English some of Mr. Hefter's principal remarks. Then the Third Psalm was sung in Hebrew, in alternate solo and chorus, to a very ancient Oriental melody, which was sweetly echoed by the rocks and bills around—rocks and hills which had very likely been trodden by David himself. The bright wild goldfinches in the trees above us joined loudly in the song.
After this, the company separated into little groups. Some wandered to the vineyards, where the well-trained vines were laden heavily with fruit. Others went to see the spring, and we rested by the stream, enjoying the sound of the rippling water, which flowed along just outside the guest-chamber.
I induced a peasant-boy to let me take his portrait. He sat on a rock opposite to me, half in the sunlight and half in the shade. He wore a red and yellow shawl as a turban, and a coarse white linen shirt, with a red leather girdle. On his finger he displayed a large silver ring with a small blue stone in it, as a defense against evil eyes and necromantic arts.
Some Arab sheikhs from Hebron came to Urtâs to settle some business. They seemed very much surprised to see so many strangers there.
When the shadows began to lengthen, the guests assembled, and the table was spread with fowls, and various Italian and Eastern compositions. The chief dish was a fine lamb, stuffed with rice, raisins, pistachio-nuts, pine seeds, and spice, roasted entire, in a hole dug in the ground for the express purpose. The garden had furnished abundance of vegetables, and ears of maize or Indian corn, which were boiled whole. The great attraction of the dessert was a pyramid of ripe peaches, the "first fruits" of the orchard.
Several appropriate and interesting speeches were made, and Mr. Graham, after speaking of the beauty of the valley in particular, and the natural fertility of the whole country, said, "Although there are so many waste places and desolate hills, they are not barren, they only want cultivation. Let us be of the same mind with Caleb, the son of Jephunneh, and Joshua, the son of Nun, who brought a good report of the land." Then all present, with one accord, answered, shouting, "It is a goodly land! It is a goodly land!"
Soon afterward we rode homeward, and the moon had risen when we reached the Talibîyeh.
- ↑ It is this view which the lamented Mr. Sedden painted so faithfully. The picture is in the South Kensington Museum.
- ↑ In the second chapter of the Koran the rules for observing Ramadan are given thus:
"O true believers, a fast is ordained unto you, as it was ordained unto those before you, that ye may fear God.
"The month of Ramadan is the month of fasting, in which the Koran was sent down from heaven—a direction unto men, and declarations of direction, and the distinction between good and evil. Therefore let him among you who shall be dwelling at home in this month fast the same month; but he who shall be sick or on a journey shall fast the like number of other days. God would make this an ease unto you, that ye may fulfill the number of days, and glorify God for that he hath directed you, and that ye may give thanks....
"It is lawful for you to eat and drink at night until ye can plainly distinguish a white thread from a black thread by the daybreak; then keep the fast until sunset."
According to Moslem divines there are three degrees of fasting. The first and second are strictly material; the third is the fasting of the heart from worldly cares, and the restraint of the thoughts, which must be concentrated on God. - ↑ This is rather curious in connection with 2 Sam. xxi, 18: "Then Sibbechai the Hushathite slew Saph, which was of the sons of the giant."
- ↑ This ground has been greatly improved since, and when I visited it in 1859, I found that Peter, one of Mr. Meshullam's younger sons, a brave and enterprising young man, had, on his return from service in the Crimea, built a little stone house there, and inclosed a large portion of cleared land. He often lived on the hill for weeks together, his only companions being two or three native peasants, and his favorite dog, and a few other domestic animals. He adopted the Bedouin costume, and lived quite like an Arab, except during his occasional visits to Jerusalem and other towns. He has lived from childhood in Palestine, and his physical strength, quickness of action, and foresight have endeared him to the Arabs. He is known and respected by most of the Sheikhs in the district. He has more than once been requested to become the chief of a small tribe. He told me that he would have accepted the office gladly, if he could have done so without becoming a Mohammedan. He was dreaded by the doers of mischief for miles around. He found the neighborhood infested with wild boars, jackals, foxes, and other beasts of prey. He killed a great number, and very often succeeded in shooting hawks and eagles.
When His Royal Highness Prince Alfred was in Palestine, in the Spring of 1859, Mr. Peter Meshullam was one of his most constant companions on the inland journey from Jerusalem to Tiberias, and thence to Hâifa, where the Euryalus was at anchor. - ↑ See note, page 60.
- ↑ "I am black but comely, O ye daughters of Jerusalem!" Song of Solomon i, 5.
- ↑ I went on another occasion down into this strange place,and found tho walls quite wet, and the ground like damp clay.