Laurence Aldersey, who set out from London in 1581, was the first Protestant who encountered the perils of a voyage to Syria. In the Levant a Turkish galley hove in sight, and caused great alarm. The master, "being a wise fellow, began to devise how to escape the danger; but, while both he and all of us were in our dumps, God sent us a merrie gale of wind." As they approached Candia a violent storm came on, and the mariners began to reproach the Englishman as the cause, "and saide I was no good Christian, and wished I were in the middest of the sea, saying that they and the shippe were the worse for me." He replied, "I think myself the worst creature in the worlde, and do you consider yourselves also." These remonstrances were followed by a long sermon, the tenor of which was, "that they were not all good Christians, else it were not possible for them to have such weather." A gentleman on board informed Aldersey, that the suspicions respecting him originated in his refusal to join in the prayers to the Virgin Mary,—a charge which he parried by remarking that "they who praied to so many goe a wrong way to worke." The friars, resolving to bring the matter to an issue, sent round the image of Our Lady to kiss. On its approach the good Protestant endeavoured to avoid it by going another way; but the bearer "fetched his course about," and presented it. The proffered salutation being then positively rejected, the affair might have become serious, had not two of the more respectable monks interceded in his behalf, and enforced a more charitable procedure.
Of the people of Cyprus he remarks, that they "be very rude, and like beasts, and no better: they eat their meat sitting upon the ground, with their legs acrosse like tailors." On the 8th of August they arrived at Joppa, but did not till the next day receive permission to land from the great pasha, "who sate upon a hill to see us sent away." Aldersey had mounted before the rest, which greatly displeased his highness, who sent a servant to pull him from the saddle and beat him; "whereupon I made a long legge, saying, Grand mercye, seignor." This timely submission seems to have secured forgiveness; and accordingly, "being horsed upon little asses," they commenced their journey towards Jerusalem. Rama he describes as so "ruinated, that he took it to be rather a heape of stones than a towne;" finding no house to receive them but such a one as they were compelled to enter by creeping on their knees. The party were exposed to the usual violence and extortion of the Arabs; "they that should have rescued us stood still, and durst doe nothing, which was to our cost." On reaching the holy city they knelt down and gave thanks; after which they were obliged to enter the gate on foot, no Christian at that period being allowed to appear within the walls mounted. The superior of the convent received the pilgrims courteously into his humble establishment, where Aldersey tells us, "they were dieted of free cost, and fared reasonable well."[70]
The beginning of the seventeenth century witnessed a higher order of travellers, who, from such a mixture of motives as might actuate either a pilgrim or an antiquary, undertook the perilous tour of the Holy Land. Among these, one of the most distinguished was George Sandys, who commenced his peregrinations in the year 1610. He was succeeded by Doubdan, Cheron, Thevenot, Gonzales, Morison, Maundrell, and Pococke, all of whom have contributed many valuable materials towards a complete knowledge of the localities, government, and actual condition of modern Palestine. In our own days the number of works on these important subjects has increased greatly, presenting to the historian of the Turkish provinces in Asia a nearer and more minute view of society than could be obtained by the earlier travellers, who, instead of yielding to the characteristic bigotry of Moslem, usually opposed to it a prejudice not less determined and uncharitable. We must not hazard a catalogue of the enterprising authors to whom the European public are indebted for the information: now enjoyed by every class of readers, in regard to the most interesting of all ancient kingdoms,—the country inhabited by Israel and Judah. In the description which we are about to give of the principal towns, the buildings, the antiquities, the manners, the opinions, and the religious forms which meet the observation of the intelligent tourist in the Land of Canaan, we shall select the most striking facts from writers of all nations and sects, making no distinction but such as shall be dictated by a respect for the learning, the candour, and the opportunities which are recorded in their several volumes.
Palestine is usually approached, either from the sea at the port of Jaffa (the ancient Joppa), or from Egypt, by way of the intervening desert. In both cases, the principal object is to obtain a safe and easy route to the capital, which, even at the present hour, cannot be reached without much danger, unless under the special protection of the native authorities. The power of Mohammed Ali, it is true, extends almost to the very walls of Gaza; and wherever his government is acknowledged no violence can be committed with impunity on European travellers. But the Syrian pashas, equally deficient in inclination and vigour, still permit the grossest extortion, and sometimes connive at the most savage atrocities. Besides, there is a class of lawless Arabs who scour the borders of the wilderness, holding at defiance all the restrictions which a civilized people impose or respect. Sir Frederick Henniker, who followed the unwonted track which leads from Mount Sinai to the southern shore of the Dead Sea, narrowly escaped with his life, after having been severely wounded and repeatedly robbed by one of the most savage hordes of Bedouins.
The history of the crusades will draw our attention to Jaffa more minutely than would be suitable at the present stage of our narrative; we shall therefore proceed on the usual route to Jerusalem, collecting as we go along such notices as may prove interesting to the reader. At a short distance from this celebrated port the pilgrim enters the plain of Sharon, celebrated in Scripture for its beautiful roses. The monk Neret informs us, that in his time it was covered with tulips, the variety of whose colours formed a lovely parterre. At present, the eye of the traveller is delighted with a profusion of roses white and red, the narcissus, the white and orange lily, the carnation, and a highly-fragrant species of everlasting-flower. This plain stretches along the coast from Gaza in the south to Mount Carmel on the north, being bounded towards the east by the hills of Judea and Samaria. The whole of it is not upon the same level; it consists of four platforms separated from each other by a wall of naked stones. The soil is composed of a very fine sand, which, though mixed with ravel, appears extremely fertile; but owing to the desolating spirit of Mohammedan despotism, nothing is seen in some of the richest fields except thistles and withered grass. Here and there, indeed, are scanty plantations of cotton, with a few patches of doura, barley, and wheat. The villages, which are commonly surrounded with olive-trees and sycamores, are for the most part in ruins; exhibiting a melancholy proof that under a bad government even the bounty of Heaven ceases to be a blessing.
The path by which the billy barrier is penetrated is difficult, and in some places dangerous. But before you reach it, turning towards the east, you perceive Rama, or Ramla, the ancient Arimathea, distinguished by its charming situation, and well known as the residence of a Christian community. The convent, it is true, had been plundered five years before it was visited by Chateaubriand; and it was not without the most urgent solicitation that the friars were permitted to repair their building, as if it were a maxim among the Turks, who by their domination continue to afflict and disgrace the finest parts of Palestine, that the progress of ruin and decay should never be arrested. Volney tells us, that when he was at Ramla a commander resided there in a serai, the walls and floors of which were on the point of tumbling down. He asked one of the inferior officers why his master did not at least pay some attention to his own apartment. The reply was, "If another shall obtain his place next year, who will repay the expense?"
In those days the aga maintained about one hundred horsemen and as many African soldiers, who were lodged in an old Christian church, the nave of which was converted into a stable, as also in an ancient khan, which was disputed with them by the scorpions. The adjacent country is planted with lofty olives, the greatest part of which are as large as the walnut-trees of France, though they are daily perishing through age and the ravages of contending factions. When a peasant is disposed to take revenge on his enemy, he goes by night and outs his trees close to the ground, when the wound, which he carefully covers from the sight, drains off the sap like an issue. Amid these plantations are seen at every step dry wells, cisterns fallen in, and immense vaulted reservoirs, which prove that in ancient times this town must have been upwards of four miles in circumference. At present it does not contain more than a hundred miserable families. The houses are only so many huts, sometimes detached, and sometimes ranged in the form of cells round a court, enclosed by a mud wall. In winter, the inhabitants and their cattle may be said to live together; the part of the building allotted to themselves being raised only two feet above that in which they lodge their beasts. The peasants are by this means kept warm without burning wood,—a species of economy indispensable in a country absolutely destitute of fuel. As to the fire necessary for culinary purposes, they make it, as was the practice in the days of Ezekiel the prophet, of dung kneaded into cakes, which they dry in the sun, exposing them to its rays on the walls of their huts. In summer, their lodging is more airy; but all their furniture consists of a single mat and a pitcher for carrying water. The immediate neighborhood of the village is sown at the proper season with grain and watermelons; all the rest is a desert, and abandoned to the Bedouin Arabs, who feed their flocks on it. There are frequent remains of towers, dungeons, and even of castles with ramparts and ditches, in some of which are a few Barbary soldiers with nothing but a shirt and a musket. These ruins, however, are more commonly inhabited by owls, jackals, and scorpions.[71]
The only remarkable antiquity at Ramla is the minaret of a decayed mosque, which, by an Arabic inscription, appears to have been built by the Sultan of Egypt. From the summit, which is very lofty, the eye follows the whole chain of mountains, beginning at Nablous, and skirting the extremity of the plain till it loses itself in the south.
A ride of two hours brings the traveller to the verge of the mountains, where the road opens through a rugged ravine, and is formed in the dry channel of a torrent. A scene of marked solitude and desolation surrounds his steps as he pursues his journey in what is so simply described in the gospel as the "hill country of Judea." He finds himself amid a labyrinth of mountains, of a conical figure, all nearly alike, and connected with each other at their base. A naked rock presents strata or beds resembling the seats of a Roman amphitheatre, or the walls which support the vineyards in the valleys of Savoy. Every recess is filled with dwarf oaks, box, and rose-laurels. From the bottom of the ravines olive-trees rear their heads, sometimes forming continuous woods on the sides of the hills. On reaching the most elevated summit of this chain, he looks down towards the south-west on the beautiful valley of Sharon, bounded by the Great Sea; before him opens the Vale of St. Jeremiah; and in the same direction, on the top of a rock, appears in the distance an ancient fortress called the Castle of the Maccabees. It is conjectured that the author of the Lamentations came into the world in the village which has retained his name amid these mountains; so much is certain, at least, that the melancholy of this desolate scene appears to pervade the compositions of the prophet of sorrows.
The unvarying manners of the East exhibit to the view of the stranger, at the present day, the same picture of rural innocence and simplicity which might have met the eye of the mother of the Redeemer when she came into this pastoral country to salute her cousin Elizabeth. Herds of goats, with pendent ears, sheep with large tails, and asses which remind you, by their beauty, of the onagra of Scripture, issue from the villages at the dawn of day. Arab women are seen bringing grapes to dry in the vineyards; others with their faces veiled, carrying pitchers of water on their heads, like the daughters of Midian.