CHAPTER V
NAZARETH AND TABOR
"From thence men go to Nazareth, of which our Lord beareth the surname ... because our Lady was born at Nazareth, therefore our Lord bare His surname of that town."
Sir John Maundeville, 1322
"Mount Tabor in Galilee ... is of a remarkably round shape, and covered in an extraordinary manner with grass and flowers."
Arculf, 700 A.D.
Our departure next morning—our little party reduced to three and one mukari—was somewhat delayed by the conduct of Sadowi, who, brought up in Moslem surroundings, firmly protested against being ridden past a pig in the streets of Haifa. If it had been a lion he could not have objected more strongly, and as the movement of a pig is not rapid our progress, for the length of an entire street, was a work of time. We were bound for Nazareth, only some twenty-four miles distant, along a fairly good road, but this was, on the whole, the most wearisome day of our journey. A chain is no stronger than its weakest link; Khalil had to lead the Artist's horse at a walk, our second servant had gone, and even if we had known the way, or if it had seemed prudent to divide our forces, our horses had no confidence in Frenjy, and so firmly refused to separate from their stable companions—human and equine—that, after disputing the question with them until we were tired, we abandoned ourselves to the dragging pace which is so wearing to horse and rider, and which protracted our journey till late in the afternoon.
Descending after three miles into the fertile plain of the Kishon we retraced our road towards Megiddo for some miles, and then climbed to higher ground, and passed through a succession of beautiful groves of oak, very rare in this country, and which, we regretted to see, had been partially destroyed in the construction of the new carriage road from Haifa to Tiberias. Once more descending we reached, about fifteen miles from Haifa, the village of Semûniyeh, historically interesting as being the first settlement in Palestine of the German Society of Templars, who have done so much for commerce and agriculture, and have demonstrated, as no other Europeans have done, by their well-built, well-arranged colonies, the fact that it is possible to live a domestic life under conditions of order, beauty, and sanitation even in Palestine. This first site, however promising and pleasing to the eye, was not, however, well chosen, for the spring, bordered with flowers and shaded with maiden-hair, turned out to be very unwholesome. We passed, just below, the little village of Yâfâ, where since 1641 the Franciscans have possessed a small chapel, on the alleged site of the house of Zebedee. The villagers are mainly Latins and Greek Orthodox.
The town of Nazareth is so buried in a cleft of the hills that it came into sight quite suddenly, lying to the left of the road, with a few separated buildings, mostly modern institutions, the most striking of which is the immense orphanage of the Salesian Fathers, with its long arcades and its exalted position. A convent of Poor Clares is the only building noticeable to the right of the road; on the left we pass a pleasant-looking hotel (German) and some half-dozen houses, and we are at the gates of the Franciscan hospice, a handsome building, capable of accommodating over two hundred guests, with spacious reception-rooms and every modern convenience, built mainly by the liberality of Americans, and known, in consequence, as Notre Dame d'Amerique. Its hospitality, like that of all the Franciscan hospices, is open to all, rich and poor, irrespective of sex, creed, or nationality. Guests are at liberty to leave a gift for the maintenance of the house; but nothing is asked, and the Lady related several instances, personally known to her, in which it had been declined owing to the circumstances, known or suspected, of the visitor.
One's emotions on finding oneself in Nazareth are, like so many of the most sacred things in life, "nothing to speak of." Easier is it to dwell upon our hearty welcome and kindly companionship, upon the refreshment of comfortable rooms and an excellent table, upon the unattractiveness of the modern town and the superfluous philanthropy and multiplication of benevolent institutions.
After "the cup that cheers," and which a Franciscan hospice anywhere in Palestine may be warranted to produce at sight of an Englishwoman, we wandered forth, rather rashly, in the twilight. The Lady alleged that the ground-plan of the town could only be compared with Clovelly—each house looks down the next-door chimneys, or would if chimneys there were. The streets appeared to be about nine feet wide. On either side is a pavement wide enough for one person; the middle is a water-course, a drain, or a depository for decaying vegetable matter according to the character of the quarter. If you meet a donkey your conversation with your companion across the street is interrupted till it has clattered past; if it is loaded you flatten yourself against the wall; if you meet a camel you step inside the nearest house. The people have the manners of those accustomed to tourists and to superfluously benevolent institutions: the women stare boldly, the children demand backsheesh, the men have lost the Oriental courtesy so welcome in less frequented places.