Glories of Spain

by Charles W. Wood

"THE first morning that I wakened up away from home I found myself in the Eternal City. I had always loved Rome. Here I thought I might lose myself in ancient history. In imagination I trod the palace of the Cæsars, and in the Coliseum beheld the martyred Christians. I pictured the gilded pageantries of the Tiber, the splendours of the pleasure-lost citizens. I saw the vast Campagna clothed with its armies, listened to the clash of arms and shouts of warriors ascending heavenwards. I walked the Appian Way with St. Paul and at the Three Taverns seemed to hear his voice in sorrowful farewell. At the shrine of Cecilia Metella I lingered in sympathetic communion; and from the Pincio Hill watched the sunsets of those matchless skies. Why are the skies of Rome more beautiful than any other? The Vatican opened its doors to me and the Pope gave me his most intimate and friendly benediction. I fear that I thought too lightly of the latter.

"What just then was more to my purpose, in Rome I found a great friend. He, Count Albert, was the nephew of the duke my mother had refused to marry. We had been intimate from childhood, but he was five years my senior. I need not say that he was a very different man from his uncle: high-minded, earnest, a cultivated citizen of the world. About to visit Egypt and Palestine, he begged me to join him. His happiness he declared would then be complete.

"Thus chance, or an over-ruling Providence, decided for me. I willingly acquiesced, and the many months we spent together remain as some of the happiest of my life. Though never ceasing to mourn my loss, I quickly threw off depression in the excitement of ever-changing scenes. Only in the still darkness of the night hours would the beloved faces and voices come to me with an ever-recurring sense of loneliness, and, man though I was, my pillow was frequently wet with tears. But our friendship for each other was sincere and has remained so. For the Duke of G.—he has now by the decrees of fate become the head of his family—is still living, though we have seldom met of late years.

"We travelled together, enjoying those sweet pleasures of companionship only given us in youth. With Egypt and Palestine we became intimate and familiar. Cairo delighted us. It was less modern in those days than in these. We were never tired of visiting the mosques with all their sacred and historic charm. We made the acquaintance of the sheikhs, saw them perform impossible magic, heard strange things revealed in a drop of ink. To me these mysteries have remained unsolved to this day. We spent hours and days amongst the tombs of the Caliphs, revelling in their wonderful refinement. We visited all the ancient cities of the Nile: Thebes with its hills and ruins, Memphis with its palm forests and Pyramids—those monuments the most ancient in the world. We contemplated the great Pyramids of Ghizeh by moonlight and felt steeped in mystery. In the same weird light I have stood before the Sphinx and asked the reason and origin of its existence, but only profound silence has answered me. At Dendera, that perfect temple begun by Cleopatra and finished by Tiberius, I gazed upon the features of the famous queen and compared them with those of Hermonthis. I found they resembled each other and confess that I wondered in what consisted the beauty of the woman who changed the fate of the world—but beautiful she must have been. We chartered our dahabeah and travelled up to the Second Cataract. Never shall I forget the soothing repose of those quiet weeks, the delight of our uninterrupted companionship, the books we read together, the daily thoughts we exchanged, the ruined cities we explored. It was an experience that comes only once in a lifetime.

"We both felt strongly the connection between Sacred Geography and Sacred History: how the one would be better understood if the other were visited. So together we became acquainted with the Peninsula of Sinai, its mountains, plains, and sea. The charm and freedom of the desert I had often dreamed about, but how far greater was the reality! Here we revelled day after day in the wonderful isolation: sky and sand and nothing else. A mingling of gorgeous tones: a vast expanse of blue and yellow; a molten sun burning down upon all by day, at night the infinite repose of darkness and star-lit skies. How endless were those sandy wastes, broken only by the wild broom and acacia yielding its gum arabic, the wild palm and manna-giving tamarisk!

"We traversed the desert in which the Israelites wandered for forty years, and crossed the Red Sea over the very spot where Pharaoh and his host were drowned. We ascended Mount Serbal and the cluster of Jebel Mûsa, and therefore must have trod the very Sinai of Israel. We stayed for days at the wonderful convent of St. Catherine, a strange building to exist in the very centre of the desert, with its massive walls, gorgeous church and galleries, monkish cells and guest chambers, its wonderful gardens. We spent much time in the Library, examining its ancient and singularly interesting MSS. We conversed frequently with the monks, and wondered why they should be Greek and not Arabian; and whether, so far removed from the world, temptation and sin and sorrow still assailed them.

"In the Valley of the Saint we visited the tomb of Sheikh Saleh, the 'great unknown,' where the tribes of the Desert assemble once a year and hold their races and dances and offer up burnt sacrifices. We looked upon Hebron, that wonderful sepulchre of the Patriarchs, and passed through the Valley of Eschol, once so abundant in the fruits of the earth. We visited the three Pools of Solomon on our way to Bethlehem. Never can I forget the gorgeous splendour of the scene, the wonderful undulations of those vine-clad hills. In the vast depression lie the sleeping pools, square and regular, and sky and atmosphere seem full of flaming colours, and one realises the true meaning of the glories of the East. Beyond lies Rachel's tomb, and from the top of a neighbouring hill one looks down upon Jerusalem the Golden. We feel that we are treading the holiest ground on earth.

"We went up the Passage of Michmash to Bethel; that dreary and barren spot where Jacob made him a pillar of stones and dreamed his dream. You remember his words: 'Surely the Lord is in this place; and I knew it not.... This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.' The spot is very desolate; no wonder Jacob feared as he gazed around.

"We visited Lebanon, and in its grove reposed under the few remaining cedars, listened to the cry of the cicale, and watched the birds of brilliant plumage flitting from branch to branch. Though in the midst of the desert there was no silence. A wonderful spot, with its rushing streams, its vineyards and corn-fields, the magnificent sea flashing in the sunshine. What a forest life it must have been before Sennacherib laid it low!

"So we became thoroughly acquainted with Sinai and Palestine. I can never understand those who leave this magic land with a sense of disappointment. It is true that we were young, full of life and vigour, ready to extract all the honey from our sweets; but to me no after experience ever equalled this first lengthened journey of my manhood. With what sorrow and regret I brought it to an end and parted from my friend, you will easily imagine.