The East

by William Young Martin

Of course we visited the house and stood upon the roof said to be that from which Peter saw the wonderful vision of the net let down from Heaven. I did not believe the story, because the house could not be more than a few hundred years old at the most; but it is by no means improbable that it is built upon the site—the description answers so well. In the neighbourhood of Jaffa, and not far from the hotel, is a colony founded several years ago by a party of Latter Day Saints from America. Although this proved a painful failure, and the parties subsequently returned to their own country, they spent both money and labour in the building of a few good houses, and introduced important agricultural improvements, traces of which are yet visible.

I cannot leave Jaffa without making mention of the “Jaffa oranges,” which are famous all the East over for their extraordinary size and excellence. I should say that, on an average, each is nearly as large as four ordinary oranges, and it was a very pleasant sight to see this splendid yellow fruit hanging overhead in passing along the groves, which are all irrigated artificially. Here the crop of fruits generally seemed rich, and prepared us to expect many such gardens in our after journey in the land of milk and honey. How great the disappointment was we shall see.

After a night’s rest, we found ourselves on horseback, en route for Jerusalem. The Jaffa horses are Arabians, of small size, spirited, but very sure-footed; and mine was one of the surest-footed of the lot—a little vicious, but I afterwards found its skin was sadly broken under the saddle, and so am now not surprised that he was frequently somewhat restless. In fairness to our dragoman, however, it should be mentioned that a German prince had started two days before us, who, with his large suite, had taken all the best horses in the place. The Jaffa horse “boys” are, I think, a somewhat mongrel class of Arabs—cruel and cunning, and seemed to delight in mischief of every description.

Almost every one breaks the journey at Ramleh, which lies only an easy journey south-eastwards, and is said to have been the property of Joseph of Arimathea. Here there is a tower somewhat similar to the old Norman square towers at home, and it did not appear to be much more ancient. From its summit we obtained an extensive view of the country. On the west, and northward along the coast, lay the once fertile plains of Sharon, which we had just crossed; on the southward, the country of the Philistines—Gaza, Askelon, Gath—the scene of Samson’s exploits and sufferings, and of David’s victory over Goliath; and, later on, along the plain south-west was the Ethiopian eunuch’s carriage stopped to take up Philip the Evangelist. On the east was the “hill country of Judea,” which we had already partly ascended.

Instead of erecting our tents, we put up in one of the convents, of which there are two always ready to receive strangers—the Russian and the French—both of which have very much the appearance of fortresses, and may have been founded during the Crusades. We were not asked to join in any religious service in the convent, which seemed to be almost deserted at the time.

Next morning, after an early breakfast, we were again in the saddle, and from this point upwards to Jerusalem the ascent was very considerable almost all the way, and rendered even more steep by a very deep wady or ravine in our route. Hitherto the road had been partly made, but now we lost for a time all trace of it, other than the usual Palestine bridle-track over hill and gully, and along paths which it is difficult to describe, and which are in some places barely discernible.

Being our first day’s long journey, we gladly stopped at noon for lunch, which, as on most other occasions, consisted of wheaten loaves, cold fowl, fruit, and wine; the donkeys carrying the tents in the meantime moved on, as they travel somewhat more slowly. The ascent had become extremely wearisome both for horse and rider before we came in sight of the great city, and, as in the case of the Crusaders of old, many an eager outlook was made for Mount Sion before it actually came in sight. But we had tarried so much on the way that the sun was rapidly sinking in the west as we approached the walls of Jerusalem. The gates were just being shut, and our first sight of it was therefore very imperfect.

Entering by the Jaffa gate, which fronts the south-west, we found ourselves suddenly involved in darkness so great that our party lost sight of each other before we reached the hotel. This was the Hotel Damas, or Damascus Hotel, the only other good one being the Mediterranean Hotel, which was occupied entirely by the Grand Duke Mecklenburg and suite. A very large portion of travellers, however, obtain lodgings in the several convents and hospices of the various religious houses.

How shall I describe Jerusalem? With its form all are familiar, but no description which I can give would, I think, convey a correct idea of the place; at least all the descriptions I previously read had completely failed to do so to me. No doubt these descriptions are literally true more or less, but there was an awful sense of desolation which seemed to hang over the whole scene that no words can describe; and I can only express my own feelings, which were those of absolute pain.

The Jerusalem of to-day is in no sense, except its site, the Jerusalem of the Bible—Salem the Peaceful—Mount Moriah—Mount Sion—Calvary—names which awaken by their very sound ideas of grandeur and victory! Jerusalem the Golden—compassed about by the everlasting hills—beautiful for situation, the joy of the whole earth—the city of the Great King!