The Moslem population is estimated at 7556 souls, and their “Quarter” extends from the southwest corner of the Haram to the central bazar, thence up to the Damascus Gate, including a portion of Mount Akra, the whole of Mount Bezetha, as far down as the northern wall of the Temple inclosure. Mount Moriah is exclusively their own; and, besides the famous mosques of Omar and El-Aksa, they have several others within the limits of their districts. Five times a day from their graceful minarets the muezzins call the faithful to prayers.
Many of the Turks, especially those of foreign birth, are men of noble bearing, and in their way are polite; but the Arab Moslems are the most despicable of beings, guilty of all the crimes forbidden in the Five Books of Moses. Among the most idle, reveling, and villainous class of men in the city are the Dervishes, the embodiment of fanaticism and the cause of nearly all the religious troubles which occur within the town. In their devotions they are the Pharisees of modern times. Whether at the corner of the streets, or in the crowded bazar, or on the house-top, wherever the hour of prayer overtakes them, they count their rosaries, perform their genuflexions, and recite their Koran prayers. During our stay in Jerusalem the Mohammedan fast called “Ramadan” occurred, lasting from moon till moon. At four o’clock P.M. on the eleventh of March the commencement of the fast was announced by a cannon from the Tower of Hippicus. All that night long the balconies of the several minarets were brilliantly illuminated, and amid the glory of a thousand lamps the sonorous voice of the muezzin was heard chanting, “God is great; Mohammedis his prophet; rise up and offer prayer; prayer is better than sleep.” Throughout that month no faithful follower of the Prophet ate from sunrise till sunset, but the booming of the evening gun was the signal for a night of rioting and feasting. On the evening of the 7th of April seven guns from Hippicus announced the joyful intelligence that the “Fast of Ramadan” had ended, which was received with shouts that awakened the solemn echoes of Olivet, and was immediately succeeded by the “Feast of Beiram,” at which gluttony is the prevailing sin.
Like other religious bodies, the Mohammedans are divided into sects, which have originated in the different interpretations of the Koran by certain doctors whose names they bear. Deriving their faith from four principal sources—the Koran, the traditions of the Prophet, the Concordance of his primitive disciples, and from analogy, they hold to two cardinal truths: “There is no God but God, and Mohammed is his prophet.” Believing their religious system, like the Mosaic dispensation, to be a part of the scheme of the Gospel, and not an antagonism to it, they regard their sacred writings to be the restoration of the Pentateuch, the Psalms of David, and the Four Gospels to their original purity. Revering Adam, Noah, Abraham, Moses, and Jesus as great prophets, to each of whom was delivered a portion of a grand system of laws and morals, they believe each succeeding revelation superseded the preceding one, and that the honor of receiving the last and grandest of all the Divine communications of God to man was reserved for Mohammed, whose name the pious Moslem always associates with that of Jehovah. They also hold to the existence of good and bad angels, to the immortality of the soul, the resurrection of the dead, a general judgment, and to heaven and hell. They believe in the miraculous birth of Christ; that he was the Messiah and the Word of God; that, after he had accomplished his mission on earth, he was received up into heaven without suffering the pain of death—another person on whom God had stamped the likeness of Jesus was crucified in his stead; and, finally, that Christ is to come again to establish the Mohammedan religion in the earth,and his advent will be the pre-intimation of the world’s destruction and the consummation of time.[241]
Oppressed by their haughty masters, the Jews of Jerusalem reside in the empire city of their ancestors in the most abject poverty, despised by the Turk and lamented by the Christian. Numbering more than 7700 souls, their wretched homes cling to the eastern declivities of Zion, extending down into the Tyropean Valley. Here, where in happier days each man was a prince and each home a palace, they dwell as pensioners upon the charities of their brethren abroad. As in London and Paris, Rotterdam and Rome, Constantinople and Cairo, the Jewish Quarter is remarkable only for squalidity, and the redolence of old clothes and second-handed wares in general. Induced by patriotism, by devotion, by charity, most of the Jewish population are foreign born, and have sought a home and a tomb in the city of their fathers.
As in the days of Christ, the Jews are divided into rival sects—the Sephardim and the Askenazim. The former are of Spanish origin, and are the descendants of those whom Ferdinand and Isabella banished in 1497 A.D., presenting the rare instance of persons having been exiled to their native land. Their language is a mixture of Spanish and Arabic; and, though subjects of the Sultan, they are suffered to maintain a distinct community, governed by their Rabbinical laws. Numbering about four thousand, they have four synagogues, and are subject to a council of seven rabbis, and a high-priest called “the Head in Zion.” Their poverty is the most abject, their filth the most indescribable, their wretchedness the most complete imaginable. Their brethren of the Askenazim order are principally of German and Polish extraction, and number in all less than four thousand souls. Having been readmitted to Palestine in the beginning of the present century, they remain subject to the consuls of their respective countries. Being mostly paupers, they are allowed six dollars per annum for support, which is the amount per capita drawn from the contributions remitted to them from the rich Jews in other lands. Hoping to enlighten their minds and preserve a knowledge of their religion, thirty-six reading-rooms have been opened for their instruction, in which teachers are employed to instruct them in the Talmud and other religious works. With becoming regularity they keep the feast of the Passover, observe their Sabbath, and assemble on Friday in their “place of reading” to recite the lamentations of their prophets.
On the Monday night succeeding Palm Sunday was celebrated the Jewish Passover, which I was invited to witness by a Christian merchant of Jerusalem, whose reputation among the Jews made him a welcome guest. The paschal moon shone softly as we threaded the narrow streets winding up the steep acclivities of Zion. Calling first on a family of moderate circumstances, we found them already seated around the table, engaged in the preliminary devotions of the feast. Since the loss of their nationality the Jews celebrate this festival at their homes, and in an unpretending manner observe as far as possible the requisitions of their law. In obedience to the command, all the members of the household were present, including parents, sons and daughters, and daughters-in-law. The dwelling had been carefully cleansed of old leaven by the father of the family; and, that his search into every nook and cranny might not seem fruitless, the busy housewife had purposely placed bits of old bread in such parts of the building where they would certainly meet his eye, and which he destroyed with much ado. The apartment in which the family were enjoying their annual feast was a large square room with vaulted ceiling. The table had been prepared with great neatness and care. On each plate was a bit of lamb, a piece of unleavened bread, a few bitter herbs, and for each person there was a glass of wine. Three lamps were burning on the table, and as many were suspended from the ceiling directly above—symbols of the Trinity. Observing a vacant chair and a well-filled plate, with a goblet of wine before it, I was informed the vacant place was for the Prophet Elias, whom they expected would come, and for whom they wished to be prepared at any moment. To represent the hasty departure of their fathers from Egypt, and in obedience to the paschal law, each person was attired as for a journey: “With your loins girded, your shoes on your feet, and your staff in your hand; ye shall eat it in haste: it is the Lord’s passover.” To illustrate how their ancestors had spoiled the Egyptians in borrowing “jewels of silver and jewels of gold, and raiment,” they had attired themselves in their best apparel, adorned their persons with their most costly ornaments, and decorated the table with whatever silver and gold ware they possessed. The father, who was a man in the prime of life, sat at the head of the table, the mother, a neat-looking woman, sat at the opposite end, the threedaughters were arranged on one side, and the two sons on the other. In a chanting tone the eldest son read from the book of Exodus the story and deliverance of the Israelites, while the whole family recited portions of their history in concert. Alternately they were jubilant and indignant: when Moses triumphed they shouted; when Pharaoh was cruel they cursed him, and in their rage they dipped their finger in the wine, and, allowing it to drop upon the floor, they enumerated therewith the plagues of Egypt, declaring Pharaoh should not have a drop of wine to cool his parched tongue.The Scripture recitation over, they began to eat, exclaiming, as they tasted the herb, “Bitter, bitter!”[242]
Ascending a pair of winding stairs, we entered another apartment, where, beside a Jewess and a little girl, three venerable Jews were partaking of their annual feast with much good cheer. The story of the ancestral sufferings had been recited, and they were engaged in common table-talk. The lady of the house was affable, and her little daughter so clean and pretty as to excite affection and merit a present. Contrary to expectation as well as to the law, they offered us a piece of unleavened bread—which was made of flour and water, and baked in the form of a thin cake—and a bit of herb, not unlike American lettuce, and exceedingly bitter to the taste. The three old Jews were advanced in years beyond the allotted time of human life, and their white hair, with their long flowing beards, gave them a patriarchal appearance. They conversed freely as to their national and religious condition, regarding themselves under the Turks as degraded and oppressed as their fathers were under the oppressive domination of Pharaoh. Yet they were not without hope; “Elias would soon come; the proud Moslem would be overthrown, their land delivered, and their ancient capital restored to all its primal glory.”
Again winding through the lane-like streets, into which the pale moonlight came struggling through the broken arcade that spanned the thoroughfare, we reached the residence of a rich Jewish banker, and rapped at the court-yard gate, but received the scriptural reply, “I know you not.” From the street we could see the brilliantly-lighted room where the paschal feast was held—the elegantly-robed Jewesses, as theypassed by the window—and heard the voices of joy and devotion within. The lateness of the hour, and the banker’s fear lest the display of his plate and jewels might expose him to the rapacity of the Turk, were the probable causes of his refusal to admit us. Standing without in the chilly air of night, the time and scene recalled the Savior’s parable of the Strait Gate:“When once the master of the house is risen up, and hath shut-to the door, and ye begin to stand without, and to knock at the door, saying, Lord, Lord, open unto us; and he shall answer and say unto you, I know you not whence ye are.”[243]
Retracing our steps, we followed a narrow alley, on whose rough pavement our lantern threw a flickering light, and came to a dwelling occupied by two families. In a small room there lived a poor but industrious Jew and his wife, whose inability to keep the Passover alone induced him to invite to his abode a widow and her two daughters.Expressing surprise at her absence from home on that important festival night, the kind-hearted Jew reminded me of the provision of the paschal law that, “if the household be too little for the lamb, let him and his neighbor next unto his house take it according to the number of the souls.”[244] In the adjoining room lived the banker’s clerk, who explained why his master did not receive us. Unwilling to allow a stranger to see the immense amount of gold and silver in his possession, his cautiousness was the reason assigned for the seeming discourtesy, as his external poverty must be the safeguard of his valuable possessions. Restrained by no such fears, the clerk received us with great cordiality. His sons and daughters, and all his grandchildren, had gathered beneath the parental roof, and, forgetting Israel’s ancient sorrows and present misfortunes, they gave themselves up to the freedom and unbounded joy of home. They laughed and talked, sang and shouted, ate and drank, as their emotions rose or appetite demanded.
The day succeeding Good Friday was the Jewish Sabbath, and was a “high day” with the Hebrews. Hastening to their large plain synagogue, I found them already thronging their altars. En route I met the high-priest, accompanied by his two sons, successors to his priestly office. His bearing was noble, his face calm and intelligent; and his lofty checkered turban and flowing robes of yellow Syrian cloth imparted to himan air of dignity and rendered him an object of attraction. Whatever may be their reputed poverty, those who crowded the synagogue were well attired. Behind a lattice-work the Jewesses were engaged in their devotions, while the men occupied the centre of the edifice. Most of the latter were aged, and wore an intelligent countenance; but there was one whose fiendish aspect and quarrelsome manner recalled the rabble whose cry against the Innocent was, “Crucify him! crucify him!” Nature had qualified him for an executioner, and his depravity had fitted him for the worst of deeds. He was a short, thick-set, powerful man, his face round and compact, his nose broad and flat, his mouth large and compressed, his eyes black, and burning with rage. Displeased at every person in his presence, he cursed each who passed him, and was the terror of the old men, who dreaded his fury. His ugly face haunts my memory still. He was possessed. He represents the murderers of our Lord. At the door stood two venerable Jews, one holding a lemon and the other a herb, and, as the people came out, they kissed the one and smelled the other.