Start for Jerusalem. Appearance of our Cavalcade. Djerid play near Jaffa. Plain of Sharon. Night ride. Ramla. The Cadi’s theory about Earthquakes. Beth-Horon. Entrance to the Hill-Country. Aboo Ghoosh. David’s Brook. First view of Jerusalem. Difficulty in getting accommodations. Greek Monastery. Distressful night.

Our joy at finding all obstacles removed, and that we were actually going to visit Jerusalem, was great indeed. The visit had been a subject of pleasing anticipation from the beginning of the cruise, and a disappointment here would have cast a damp upon all our other pleasures. But here we were at last, ashore at Jaffa, mounted and ready to be off; every face cheerful, and our hearts swelling with expected enjoyment. We wound through the low bazaar, and then slipping and stumbling over the execrable pavement of the gateway, found ourselves out in the country, and fairly on our way. And here we turned to look at each other, and enjoy the oddity and grotesqueness of the scene. We were, indeed, a curious looking set of pilgrims. As we arrived ashore, there was a general scrambling for the animals, which, by orders of the governor of Jaffa, had been brought in from the country for the occasion; and as these included every variety, and there was little time for choosing, it was amusing to see the mal-agreement which often occurred between man and beast. A stout and heavy man might be seen sweating and toiling along on the back of one of the most diminutive of donkeys; a graceful cavalier, who prided himself on his horsemanship, and had selected what appeared to be a fine-looking Arab, found himself on an asthmatic animal, which neither whip nor the pins stuck into his boots for lack of spurs, could force from a sluggish walk. Then came along a young midshipman, on a streak of lightning, clinging to the mane or saddle, and agape to find himself in a situation where his superior officers, and even the Commodore, were glad to yield the deck to him. His horse, brought up on the wild hills, is unconscious how sadly he is violating naval etiquette; and away they go, till a turn in the road hides them from our sight. “Give my Jack a punch,” cries one, “the nasty beast, I can’t get him to move;” while at the act, Jack suddenly finds the use of his hinder quarters, and the puncher, from being a grave-looking personage, suddenly takes to hopping and singing, and working his features into the oddest grimace. Some of our company had no animals at all, and others were debating whether they had not better leave those they had; while the animals themselves stood straight up to second the motion. My friend M——, thinking perhaps that necessity hath no law, stepped up coolly to a horse fastened to a bit of shrubbery, and having loosed him, and thrown his Turkey rug over the saddle, seated himself on the top of it; concluding, with good reason, that the owner would soon be after him, and that he could then, perhaps, make a bargain for the beast. It turned out that the horse belonged to a soldier going our way, and who, on promise of a bakshish, or present, agreed to this impudent arrangement; but the next morning horse and soldier were missing, and with them the fine, large Turkey rug,—showing how universally we may apply the counsel, “set a rogue to catch a rogue.”

Amid this scene of confusion, the general attention was directed to the family group at the head of the party, a group respected and beloved by all of us; and it was gratifying, in the cheerful looks of the ladies, to find that they were rather amused than dismayed by the necessary discomforts of this new kind of travelling. We got, by and by, into pretty good order, and moved cheerily on. Our company consisted of the Commodore, lady, and three daughters, the consul and lady, thirty-six lieutenants, midshipmen, &c., twelve petty officers and servants; and muleteers in addition sufficient to make a party in all, of more than seventy persons.

Nearly every individual was armed, and our warlike accoutrements, as well as the rest of our fitting out, had a broad dash of the picturesque.

While we were getting ready for a move, an old seaman came up to me, and begged hard that I would get him permission to accompany us. “Why, W——,” I replied, “I don’t see what reason I can give for it that fifty others might not urge, and besides, you have no donkey—you see every thing with four legs to it is already taken up.” “Oh,” he replied, “ask to allow me to walk by —— and take care of the sedan; and as to a donkey, I don’t need one, I am willing to walk all the way.” I succeeded in the application, and had forgotten the circumstance, till one day, eighteen months after, when the crew had been discharged, W—— came up to me on the wharf at Norfolk, and, taking my hand, said I had conferred a favor on him which he would remember to the last day of his life. I asked him what it was: “Oh,” he replied, “you got me permission to go to Jerusalem.”

When I returned from the Holy City, I brought back a quantity of olive root from the Mount of Olives, and giving it to the carpenter on board ship to saw it up, on going to the bench, I found the seamen around, catching the sawdust, and picking the earth from the holes among the roots. So strong was the feeling of interest with which the proximity of the city had inspired us.

It may be supposed, then, that we wound along among the gardens of Jaffa with cheerful alacrity. The road is sandy and toilsome, but is bordered with shrubbery interwoven with the huge cactus, and gay flowers were pendant on every side. We had left the city at 4 P. M.; and the sun, now throwing its rays slantingly among the blossoms and foliage, gave them their richest effect. About a mile from the walls we came to a Turkish fountain, about twenty feet in height, and highly ornamented. The road bends at this place, and soon after ascends a range of low hills, where cultivation ceases, and the traveller finds himself in the open country, without enclosure or habitation in sight.

A number of the European consuls, and other gentlemen resident in Jaffa, had done us the honor to accompany us thus far. They were mounted on fine spirited Arabs, and now driving the shovel-shaped stirrup into their horses’ sides, flew up the hill side, and at length, brought at the summit in bold relief against the sky, they formed a picture such as is seen only in these glowing eastern countries. They wore the native costume, presenting a variety of brilliant and fanciful colors; and in this case the dress was perfectly clean, and evidently put on with careful and studied effect. Having presently reached a level piece of ground, they scattered, and commenced the djerid, a play in which the Arabs greatly delight, and which is adapted to bring out the powers both of horse and rider, and show them to fine advantage. Each horseman is furnished with a stick of some tough material, four or five feet in length, and of the thickness of the middle finger; they divide about equally, and each selecting an opponent, the effort is to strike the adversary with the rod. In doing this they pursue each other at the top of the horse’s speed, often bring him to a halt so suddenly as to throw him on his haunches, whirl at an instant’s warning, hang by the leg and arm so as to avoid the whizzing rod, catch it in the air, or, while the horse is at full speed, snatch it from the ground, and turning, become the pursuer till the rod is discharged, or the adversary has again recovered one in his turn. It is an exciting and highly animated sport, and was kept up on the large plain, now on our right, now on the left, till one or two of the company became provoked by some well-dealt blows, and the play began to look serious; while a few showed by their soiled dresses that they had come in closer contact with the ground than was pleasant. Kind feeling was, however, soon restored by some smart hits in return, and the play wound up in good-humor; after which, our Arab guide, with his long, slender spear, once more putting himself at the head of our party, our friends wheeled their steeds, and having made a graceful salaam, darted over the hill on their return to Jaffa, and were soon out of sight.

We were now fairly on the celebrated Plain of Sharon; but times have sadly changed, and we might have looked in vain for roses or any other shrub. The road laid through a country not absolutely flat, and yet scarcely undulating; with scarcely a tree, and no where presenting any sign of cultivation. Towards sunset, however, we found ourselves approaching an olive grove, beyond which, on our left, was a wretched looking village of ten or a dozen houses; also a ruin of large dimensions, which we had not time to examine. Beyond this the country assumed the same open and deserted appearance; and, except a fountain which we passed a few miles onward, there was nothing to show that it was the habitation of men. Darkness, by and by, began to fall around us, we drew our company into a more compact form, and having examined our arms, passed on in silence; a spirit of sadness and musing, excited probably by the melancholy nature of the country, having apparently seized on the whole of our party.

We were now in what was formerly the territory of the tribe of Dan, their possessions, I believe, having extended from the sea inward to a distance of thirty miles, and about twelve from north to south. Of Dan, it was said by his father Jacob, that he was “a serpent by the way, an adder in the path, that biteth the horse-heels, so that his rider shall fall back.” And the position which long afterwards fell by lot to this tribe, appears to have been adapted to produce or to cherish such a trait of character.

Two thirds of the great highway from Jerusalem to its sea-port Joppa, laid through their territory; and the long winding ravine by which this road ascends from the plain of Sharon into the mountainous region that encircles Jerusalem, affords admirable facilities for plundering. Until very recently, the upper extremity of this ravine was occupied by Aboo Ghoosh, at the head of a set of daring fellows, who regularly laid contributions on travellers; while a village near the other extremity bore no better reputation. Dr. Clarke’s baggage was seized upon, and carried to the latter town, where he had great difficulty in recovering it; and, more recently, the French traveller, De la Martine, found it prudent by judicious means to secure in season the good favor of Aboo Ghoosh. This robber-chief, whose power extended over a large tract of country, and was well systematized, has recently been appointed by the Pasha of Egypt to a high office in Jerusalem; and we saw him on our visit enthroned in his new state, where he seems ill at ease. Mohammed Ali has thus removed a nuisance and secured a powerful friend; but it is not probable that his robber-propensities will be greatly checked by these new dignities.

When shall this desert region rejoice and blossom as the rose, and when shall we be able to speak of “the excellency of Carmel and Sharon?”—“The highways” now “lie waste, and the wayfaring man ceaseth; Lebanon is ashamed and hewn down, and Sharon is like a wilderness.”—Though it is sad to look at a plain like this of Sharon, about eighty miles in length by twenty in width, and of extensive fertility, and bordering also on the sea, yet now little more than a desert waste; though sad, there is nothing very remarkable in it, for it is the character of many such plains in Asia; but there is something very remarkable when we think of this country in connexion with the strange people whose father-land it is, a people who are over the whole face of our globe, an astonishment, a proverb, and a by-word; turning ever with warm desires towards the home of their fathers; yet still “scattered among all people, from one end of the earth to the other,” and among them finding no ease nor rest, but distressed “with a trembling heart and failing of eyes, and sorrow of mind”—outcasts every where, the “heaven over their head is brass, and the earth under their feet is iron.” I do not see how a man can read the 28th chapter of Deuteronomy, and be satisfied that it was written at the time it purports to be, and yet remain an infidel; and that it was written at that time, is a matter capable of very easy proof. I have seen the Jews in a great many countries; and if we were to sit down to describe their condition, we could not find terms to express it more accurately than is done in that chapter, penned 3287 years ago.

About nine o’clock we discovered lights ahead, and heard the barking of dogs, and soon after entered Ramla, the ancient Arimathea, which was to be our stopping-place for the night. Here, to our surprise, we found also an agent of our government, a vice-consul appointed by the consul at Jaffa, to whom, I believe, he had paid a consideration for the office. He was an Armenian gentleman, apparently wealthy, and certainly kind and hospitable. Our arrival had been expected, and every thing grateful to hungry and wearied pilgrims had been provided. Tables were loaded with fowls and mutton, and with the delicious water-melons of Jaffa, as well as abundance of other fruits, and with wine. When our large company had all been fed, such conveniences as the house afforded for sleeping were freely given up to us; our host all the while sitting unobtrusively at one side of the eating room, and seldom speaking, except to order additional supplies of refreshments. However, Mon. Damon, the consul at Jaffa, who with his lady had come with us, in order that the credit for the entertainment might not be lost, took it all to himself; bustling about, and telling us that the house was his own, that he had provided the feast, and bidding us welcome. I am happy to be able to add, that through the influence of Commodore Patterson, this gentleman, Mr. Marcus Abers, has since received an appointment independent of the consulate at Jaffa. We received, with the freedom of sailors, what was so freely and generously offered; and when, in the morning, our caterer, after some hesitation on the score of delicacy, offered remuneration, as the company was so large and miscellaneous, it was declined, and the party was cordially invited to repeat the visit on our return.

Ramla has at present little to detain a traveller, though it was formerly a city of considerable dimensions; its population now is about 3,000, principally Mahommedans and Christians of the Greek church. At the borders on the western side, thirty miles from Jerusalem, are some vast subterranean apartments belonging to the ancient times of the city. One is one hundred and fifty feet long by forty in width, and is twenty-five feet deep; the second and third are each seventy feet square, and of the same depth as the former. Adjoining the second, is a tower twenty-five feet square, and still one hundred feet in height, and a conspicuous object at a great distance on the plain. Our time did not admit of a visit to these ruins, and for the dimensions I am indebted to Mr. Thompson, by whom they have been described. Mr. Thompson was at Ramla during the recent earthquake, and heard a debate on its causes by the learned men of the city; The Cadi, or Judge, spoke at last, and with gravity suitable to his high station, gave his solution of the phenomenon. “The earth,” he said, “has seven foundations; the first, water; second, air; third, a mountain; fourth, a cushion; fifth, (Mr. T. does not recollect;) sixth, a great rock; and seventh, the horn of the great ox. When the ox becomes fatigued, he changes the rock from one horn to the other, and that caused the shaking.”

After some slight refreshment, at an early hour on the 16th we resumed our journey, and soon found ourselves once more breathing the country air. We passed some ruins on our right just after leaving the city, and also, soon after this, a company of about 200 cavalry at drill on the plain. Our road, I ought to have remarked before this, was not directly across the plain, but in a slanting direction, Jerusalem being situated a little to the south of east from Jaffa. The distance from Ramla is thirty miles. We descended two or three steep banks, separated from each other by intervals of several miles, and thus arrived, at length, at the lowest level of the plain, which appears to consist of this level, and, on the west of it, of a succession of terraces, each about forty feet in height, and three or four miles in width. The country, during our morning ride, was not of so melancholy a cast as on the day previous, patches of millet or indian corn occurring here and there, with other signs of cultivation; but the sun now beat upon us with scorching power. About ten o’clock we passed a miserable village close on our left, and an hour after, a cone-shaped eminence on our right, with some ruins, supposed to be the remains of Beth-Horon, noticed in 2 Chron. viii. 5. 1 Samuel, xiii. 18.[14]

The hill is about 400 feet in height, and in most parts is of difficult ascent; it was well adapted for defence, and the extensive and massive ruins on the top show that it was a place of considerable strength. This was probably the upper city: for the site of the “Nether-Beth-Horon,” we must look among the broken ground that skirts the lower part of the eminence. This was a place of importance, as it commands the entrance of the winding ravine, along which the road ascends from the plain into the mountainous district, or what is called in the first chapter of John, the “hill country” of Judea.

The entrance into this ravine is about two miles east from Beth-Horon; and as it stood gaping before us, with the mountains on either side towering to a great height, while the representations of travellers had led us to expect beyond it only mountains, still darker and more dreary, we turned some reluctant looks backward towards the plain. The roads over these mountains we had been also informed by Mr. Damon, were the worst possible; but in this latter respect we were to meet with an agreeable disappointment. One of the consuls at Jaffa, a merchant, (I believe the Sardinian consul,) in order to divert the trade of the Mecca and Jerusalem caravans from Damascus to his own city, had lately put the road in excellent order. In many places he had blasted rocks, and at others had built up walls; the operation had been an expensive one, and the enterprise of the gentleman merits a better reward than I am afraid it will receive.

As we were entering the ravine, we met a company of Egyptian soldiers; and, further on, in a narrow part, encountered a much larger force, returning to the west. They had with them a great number of camels loaded with baggage and accoutrements, and often with field-pieces, some of the latter (brass six pounders) being lashed to spars which were fastened to the backs of two camels, one before the other. The soldiers, though the balance of power was greatly on their side, were very civil; and in no instance showed a disposition to offer annoyance, or give us unnecessary trouble. It was in this pass that the Roman army, under Cestius, were almost totally destroyed.

We found the ascent up to the ravine, though long, yet far from being toilsome. At the summit, at a spot commanding a view of all the plain of Sharon and the sea beyond, we stopped in an olive grove for dinner. This was near the village of the ex-robber, prince Aboo Ghoosh; but a change has come over the country under the sovereignty of Mohammed Ali, for the people did not even come to look at us.

Descending again, we passed, at the bottom of a valley, a village, on the borders of which is a large church belonging to the time of the crusades. A more desolate scene than presented itself as we wound up the hills beyond this village cannot be easily imagined. The rocks in all this region are secondary limestone, and the hills, consequently, are rounded, presenting few bold peaks or precipitous ridges; but all was gray rock from the bottom to the summit, and the senses became pained by the gloomy monotony of the scene, a wide and dreary waste of bare rocks. By and by, descending again, we found ourselves in a valley watered by a rivulet, and with some fields and a vineyard; but soon plunged again into the same succession of bare rocky hills, where not a tree nor shrub was to be seen, and not a living thing, except a bird now and then whirling in its solitary flight. A steep descent brought us at length into the narrow defile where occurred the battle between Ibrahim Pasha and the rebels already noticed; and skeletons of horses were still scattered, by the road side. This pass is also a favorite haunt of robbers; particularly at a spot where a bridge crosses a dry channel which winds through the bottom of the valley.—Siste viator. This channel, now dry, but covered by a considerable stream in winter, is that from which David selected pebbles for his sling when going to meet Goliath; I believe, however, this event occurred some distance further down. We passed this bridge on our return an hour before daylight; and, as we approached, an officer of the Pasha’s household who accompanied us, made the party halt and form into compact order; and then had the bridge reconnoitred before he allowed us to proceed. There was no one there, but further on, at the battle ground, a strange horseman rode up and passed us several times, as if scrutinizing our company, and others were seen on the other side of the glen; but apparently they did not like our equipment, as they gave us no further trouble.

Having crossed this bridge, we were now in constant expectation of getting sight of Jerusalem; and as we approached the summit of a long hill, our caterer, Lieutenant S——, made the officers in the van fall back, so that Mrs. Patterson might be the first to advance and catch a view of the sacred city. But we were to be disappointed; it was not in sight, and these disappointments occurred so often, that at length we grew less earnest in our look out ahead. Evening was fast approaching, and just as distant objects were beginning to grow indistinct, a sudden rise on the road brought to view some white buildings far off, and a little to our left. A sudden cry of “Jerusalem” burst from the foremost, and all hurried forward to enjoy the welcome sight; again, however, we were mistaken. But, a few minutes after this, while we were gazing at the objects just described, and debating whether they were the sacred city or not, a long white wall, with battlements and towers, presented itself suddenly right before us; and then arose a general cry of joyful surprise—for this we knew to be Jerusalem. I believe there was not one of us who was not affected with powerful emotions; and among these feelings was generally a sensation of pleasing surprise at the imposing appearance of the city; for whether it was owing to its contrast to the small group of houses we had been looking at, or to the manner in which it bursts upon us in a dreary desert, or whether there was sufficient cause for this in the city itself, I cannot say; but the first impression was certainly a very favorable one.

The city, as viewed from the west, presents a stretch of wall about two thirds of a mile in length, battlemented and strengthened with numerous towers, and, at the Jaffa gate, which is midway along, fortified with heavy castles. South of this gate, the walls stand on the edge of a ravine or valley sixty feet in depth and two hundred feet wide, and at this part, particularly, the effect is very bold and striking. As we approached, battlement and turret were here thrown out into strong relief against the clear evening sky.

This was our first view and first impression of Jerusalem. To myself, however, little time was given for observation. The Commodore called for me; and telling me that as this was a city in the line of my profession, they must look to me to provide quarters for the company—said he wished me to ride forward rapidly, and see where we could find accommodations. So I changed my humble donkey for a spirited steed, and taking for interpreter a young Arab officer who had accompanied us from Jaffa, set forward at a pace that made us look more like crusading knights at a tilt than peaceable pilgrims. The gates, which are usually closed at sunset, we found were kept open in expectation of the arrival of our party, and a large number of citizens were standing in groups without. On our drawing up and inquiring the way to the house of Mr. Nicholayson, the missionary from England, he himself stept forward and gave us a hearty welcome. His house he immediately placed at our disposal, but on his inquiring how many there might be in the party, and receiving my answer, “I think about seventy,” he stood aghast. A company of seven or a dozen, the number as he had supposed our company, he could readily accommodate, and his house was cordially at our service for as many as it would hold; but where to find accommodations for seventy he could not tell, some of the monasteries, the usual resort of pilgrims, being now, he said, in quarantine on account of the plague. We turned into the city, however, to make an effort; and crossing an irregular open area, and then winding down some dark narrow streets, stopped at length at a low gate in the face of a high massy wall. It admitted us into the chief Latin convent; but the Prior, on our being presented, said that nearly all the building was in quarantine, some of the monks having recently died of the plague, and that an adjacent establishment belonging to his order was in a similar situation. Foiled here, we proceeded on a little further, and on applying, though with reluctance, at the Greek convent, were successful; their large building, forming a hollow square with a court in the centre, being given up to us. We returned forthwith, and found that our company had already entered the city, and in attempting to follow us, had got jammed up in one of the narrow streets, where a scene of vexatious and yet amusing confusion was just commencing; the baggage mules with their broad panniers and projecting loads sticking fast between the opposite houses, and, in their efforts to extricate themselves, taking little note of rank or office; while torches glancing here and there upon pistol and cutlass, and the dusty, and jaded, and sometimes disconsolate looking features of our companions, mixed up with the wild and curious gaze of the natives, assisted in making up a singular scene. They had just learned the result of our application at the Latin convent; and to a wearied man, the idea of passing the night in such rough and odoriferous streets as these, could not be a pleasing one. They were highly gratified to find that we had at length been able to procure quarters. The Commodore and his family were invited to the house of Mr. Nicholayson, where, among the kind and agreeable members of his family, they soon found themselves in a pleasant home; while the rest of us, passing through the low strong portal of the convent, and emerging by and by from the dark narrow passage, into the enclosed court, turned to see what species of accommodation we were to have. The prospect seemed melancholy enough. Around the court was a range of buildings, three fourths of which were given up to us, the remaining fourth being occupied by the Prior’s rooms and offices of the church, and by the church itself. The lower part of our portion of the edifice was occupied as stables, kitchen, granary, &c.; and gave also accommodation to some of our party. Ascending from this by a large stairway, we entered on a platform passing around three sides of the court, with a parapet along its interior edge, while on its opposite border was a range of cells, which we found on inquiry were to be our dormitories. Tired as we were, we recoiled from the sight of them. They were usually about eight or nine feet square, and so low that a person could scarcely stand upright in them; a broken door, a hole for a window, a stone or mortar floor, and a thin reed mat, and dust in the greatest abundance—this was the sight that presented itself as we came to examine our domicils. Some joked, some took it all in quiet, and some said “it was really too bad.” But uncomfortable as these abodes appeared to us, other creatures did not seem to think them so, for they were really well tenanted; and when our lights were extinguished, and we had wrapped ourselves each in his blanket, and had stretched ourselves on the stone floor, we soon discovered how far from solitary was the life of our friends the monks. Our chambers were alive with lilliputians, which immediately commenced an attack on us. As D., and S., and myself, were lying in our little room, we first heard some notes of distress on the outside, and occasionally an exclamation of “Hollo, are you out here too?” and then there was a general cry—“I can’t bear this any longer;” and we rushed out to the platform to which we found every cell ejecting its inmates. We did not get asleep until nature, towards morning, was absolutely worn out, when the fleas, having worried us into utter exhaustion, were allowed to gorge themselves at their leisure. The reader may perhaps think that I might have spared him this scene, which is not a pleasant one, and must jar on the feelings of one who would come with other sensations, and be occupied with other thoughts, in this city of solemn and touching associations; but my impression is, that he would like to see the modern city as it is, and I wish also, as far as possible, to make him also a traveller, and carry him along with us; this is no exaggerated picture of our first night, and may be taken as a sample of the rest. Jerusalem, however, is not alone in this; but the whole of this region, from the cataracts of the Nile to Constantinople, is teeming with fleas. We thought, however, that this city was peculiarly infested with them, and were informed that in the most cleanly houses, no care could keep any part of the building free from them.

The night passed away at length, and ushered in a brilliant dawn, such as is not often seen except in these eastern countries, where the thin and scanty exhalations are just sufficient, without obscuring any portions of the landscape, to tinge all with roseate and purple hues.