We find the streets, which are from six to twelve feet wide, paved with round stones, varying all the way from a goose egg to a man’s head. These stones are half buried in filth, the other half being left exposed, and have been trodden over until they are almost as smooth as glass. No wheeled vehicle can enter the city, for the reasons that the streets are too narrow to allow a chariot or wagon to pass through; and if they were wide enough, the stones are too sleek and slippery for a camel to walk on, and, with safety, draw a vehicle. You can follow one of these streets, or lanes, only a short distance without facing every point of the compass. In many places you have to hold your nose, and carefully pick your way through the dirt and filth. These narrow, corkscrew streets (?) are lined on either side by a lot of stalls, from five to ten feet wide, called shops, or bazaars. Traffic seems to be at a stand-still. The people are mostly idle. They produce nothing, and consume—very little! Filth, ignorance, and poverty, those emblems of Mohammedan rule, more unmistakeable than the Star and Crescent itself, everywhere abound!
The population of Jerusalem is variously estimated, the estimates ranging anywhere from 25,000 to 45,000. I think the city probably has 35,000 inhabitants, proportioned as follows: 18,000 Mohammedans, 12,000 Jews, and 5,000 Christians, each occupying separate and distinct quarters of the city. All the Christians, except a hundred or more, are Catholics. While there are a few wealthy Jew merchants and bankers in Jerusalem, most of the Hebrews here are mainly supported by a systematic benevolence, Jews in all parts of the world contributing to this object.
There are many synagogues here, but only one worthy of special note. The Jews have fifteen or twenty theological students who daily assemble in the chief synagogue, and seat themselves on mats at the feet of their instructor, who sits on a thick, deep-tufted cushion in the centre of the circle. But there is no Gamaliel among the teachers, no Paul among the pupils.
WAILING PLACE OF THE JEWS.
The Mosque of Omar is surrounded by a wall, some thirty feet high, which cuts off thirty-five acres, or one-fifth of the city. One part of this wall has been identified, with more or less certainty, as a portion of Solomon’s Temple—the only remaining portion. It is believed that this is the nearest approach to what was once the Holy of Holies. Every Friday afternoon, at three o’clock, the devout Jews of the city, old and young, of high and low degree, assemble around these sacred stones for worship. Here they chant the Psalms of David, and read aloud from their prayer books and Hebrew Bibles. They kiss, and press themselves against, these stones for hours. They weep and lament and pray and cry aloud, as if their hearts would break. Hundreds of these unfortunate children of Abraham assemble at the “wailing-place.” When each one has kissed the stones for probably a hundred times or more, they all seat themselves flat down on the stones in the dirt and filth.
Here they are, all seated in rows on the ground, facing the wall, row behind row, until the last row is forty or fifty feet from the wall. In the crowd I see a mother and babe who remind me of Hannah and Samuel. There, to the right, is a tall, stoop-shouldered, old man, with grey hair and a wrinkled brow. His long, white beard hangs gracefully over his breast, and falls in his lap, as he sits with uncovered head and bowed. That, methinks, is a perfect picture of Abraham as he sat weeping o’er Sarah’s grave. Here I can pick out a Paul, yonder a John, an Andrew, and a Peter. Ah! these are the remnants of a race that have left their imprint upon every page of human history. They sit and pray and weep, and will not be comforted.
Close to the wall stand six Rabbis eight or ten feet apart. With their palms upon the wall, they repeatedly bend their elbows and kiss the stones. And then, in a voice as sad as sadness’s very self, they in concert cry out: “O Lord God Almighty, thou has smitten us and scattered us abroad among the heathen nations of earth; yet, O God, will we praise and adore thee.”
The people, seated on the ground, sway to and fro and cry out: “A-m-e-n, a-m-e-n.”