Letters from Palestine / Written during a residence there in the years 1836, 7 and 8

by J. D. Paxton

Having reached the top of the first steep ascent from the Dead Sea, we entered on a more gradual one, which continued for several hours' travel. Our course was south-west—the Dead Sea lay to our left, and could be seen extending far to the south. The district we were passing over, was almost wholly without trees. There was a little grass, and some thistles, and an almost innumerable multitude of snails about the roots of the weeds and small thorn bushes.

This district appeared to be used only for pasturage. We saw signs of sheep and goats, and passed one or two wells, that had recently been used for watering flocks. This whole district appeared fertile. The rock was a very soft limestone; but I saw no signs of cultivation, and not a village was to be seen.

Before we reached the monastery, the night came on—and our guides became doubtful as to the way. We passed a grave-yard, but when the people had lived, who had been interred, no one could tell. After hunting our way for some time, we concluded that we must be wrong, although our guide still insisted that we were going in the right direction. We ought to have yielded to him. The majority, however, were so confident that our course was wrong, that we turned back, and took another road, which we had passed; after following this for some time, we came to a full halt, as our muleteers affirmed that it was not the right way. While we were debating the merits of the case, the horse of one of our guard, who had alighted, got his foot fastened in some part of his harness, and taking fright at it, made a most ludicrous affray. The Turkish soldier, who was previously out of humour with the guide, on account of his not knowing the way, now lost all patience; and while his horse was like to break his neck in floundering, he fell to beating the guide with the but-end of his gun.

Our whole case was unpleasant. We were lost, and our guard was likely, in his fury, to injure our guide. We loudly commanded the peace, and after a little, things began to look better. The horse broke the straps that had alarmed him. The soldier ceased beating our guide, and a muleteer, who had gone out to explore the road, returned with the assurance that he had found the right one, and that we were not far from the monastery.

We again set out, and soon reached San-Saba; but there new trials awaited us. It was now near midnight, and the gates were shut. We knocked loud and long before any one took notice of us; at last a small window, above one of the gates, was cautiously opened, and inquiry made who we were and what we wanted.

It was too dark for them to see us distinctly; and in our eagerness to get the gate opened, we all talked and urged our suit, each in the language which he could best use—English, Italian, Turkish, Arabic, and Greek, were all put in requisition. The good fathers were evidently in doubt of us—who we could be, and wherefore come at such an untimely hour! All our entreaties did not move a bar of the gate. We pleaded, which was true, that we were suffering for water. A small jar of water was let down by a rope. This was soon emptied—it was let down a second and third time. This, in some degree, satisfied our present wants; but our animals were not supplied, except the horses of our guard, who poured water in their red caps and gave it to them to drink. The jar was drawn up, and the window shut, all our entreaties to the contrary notwithstanding.

We had no alternative but to wait until morning. We were hungry, but our provisions were exhausted. We could not cook, for we had no water. We felt a good deal of displeasure at the fathers who thus refused us admittance. We lay down at the gate and waited for the morning. About sunrise, after seeing that we were Franks, and but few in number, they opened the gates and gave us admittance. The superior apologised for their refusal to admit us in the night. He said most of the monks were absent, it being the season for making their wine—that there were but a few old men in the monastery—that the district about them was in a disturbed state—and they did not know who we were—they knew not but that it might be a stratagem of some freebooters to get in and rob the monastery—that had we sent them word from Jerusalem that we were coming, they would at once have admitted us. I thought that there was much reason in what they said; and this, together with the readiness with which they provided us refreshments, and showed us all parts of their establishment, made me cordially forgive their seeming rough treatment in refusing to admit us before.

The monastery of San-Saba stands on a narrow, deep ravine. It takes in part of the ridge on both sides, and has a very high and strong wall, which crosses the ravine at two places, so as to include the valley for a considerable distance. In the valley within the walls, is a small spring, the only one that is near. On the hills are towers connected with the walls. There are many buildings within, and rooms sufficient to hold several thousand persons. There are a number of chapels, several of which are richly furnished, and they, as well as most of the Greek monasteries in Jerusalem, have lately received rich presents from Russia. Above twenty boxes were lately sent to the Greek church in these regions, filled with rich chandeliers, censers, crosses, altar cloths, and priests' garments. They showed us a chapel, in which was a pile of human skulls, said to be of monks and martyrs. There was an altar before them, on which religious service seemed to be at times performed.

Most of the chapels had many pictures in them. The Greeks make much use of pictures in their worship. I was especially struck with a picture of the Last Judgment. God was represented as an old man—a fiery stream came out from before Him. The apostles were acting as judges—the dead were rising, and a halo of glory was around the head of the righteous—Peter was opening the gates of Heaven to the righteous, and the fiery stream was beating on the wicked, and forcing them into the mouth of a monstrous serpent.