In The Levant 3

In The Levant 3

These reflections, however, let it be confessed, did not come to me as

I sat in the rocking-chair of my countrywoman. I was rather thinking how

completely her presence and accent dispelled all my Oriental illusions

and cheapened the associations of Jaffa. There is I know not what in a

real living Yankee that puts all appearances to the test and dissipates

the colors of romance. It was not until I came again into the highway

and found in front of The Jerusalem hotel a company of Arab acrobats and

pyramid-builders, their swarthy bodies shining in the white sunlight,

and a lot of idlers squatting about in enjoyment of the exertions of

others, that I recovered in any degree my delusions.

 

With the return of these, it seemed not so impossible to believe even in

the return of the Jews; especially when we learned that preparations for

them multiply. A second German colony has been established outside of

the city. There is another at Haifa; on the Jerusalem road the beginning

of one has been made by the Jews themselves. It amounts to something

like a "movement."

 

At three o'clock in the afternoon we set out for Ramleh, ignominiously,

in a wagon. There is a carriage-road from Jaffa to Jerusalem, and our

dragoman had promised us a "private carriage." We decided to take it,

thinking it would be more comfortable than horseback for some of our

party. We made a mistake which we have never ceased to regret. The road

I can confidently commend as the worst in the world. The carriage into

which we climbed belonged to the German colony, and was a compromise

between the ancient ark, a modern dray, and a threshing-machine. It was

one of those contrivances that a German would evolve out of his inner

consciousness, and its appearance here gave me grave doubts as to the

adaptability of these honest Germans to the Orient. It was, however, a

great deal worse than it looked. If it were driven over smooth ground

it would soon loosen all the teeth of the passengers, and shatter

their spinal columns. But over the Jerusalem road the effect was

indescribable. The noise of it was intolerable, the jolting incredible.

The little solid Dutchman, who sat in front and drove, shook like the

charioteer of an artillery wagon; but I suppose he had no feeling. We

pounded along over the roughest stone pavement, with the sensation of

victims drawn to execution in a cart, until we emerged into the open

country; but there we found no improvement in the road.

 

Jaffa is surrounded by immense orange groves, which are protected along

the highways by hedges of prickly-pear. We came out from a lane of these

upon the level and blooming Plain of Sharon, and saw before us, on the

left, the blue hills of Judæa. It makes little difference what kind

of conveyance one has, it is impossible for him to advance upon this

historic, if not sacred plain, and catch the first glimpse of those

pale hills which stood to him for a celestial vision in his childhood,

without a great quickening of the pulse; and it is a most lovely

view after Egypt, or after anything. The elements of it are simple

enough,--merely a wide sweep of prairie and a line of graceful

mountains; but the forms are pleasing, and the color is incomparable.

The soil is warm and red, the fields are a mass of wild-flowers of

the most brilliant and variegated hues, and, alternately swept by

the shadows of clouds and bathed in the sun, the scene takes on the

animation of incessant change.

 

It was somewhere here, outside the walls, I do not know the spot, that

the massacre of Jaffa occurred. I purposely go out of my way to repeat

the well-known story of it, and I trust that it will always be recalled

whenever any mention is made of the cruel little Corsican who so long

imposed the vulgarity and savageness of his selfish nature upon

Europe. It was in March, 1799, that Napoleon, toward the close of his

humiliating and disastrous campaign in Egypt, carried Jaffa by storm.

The town was given over to pillage. During its progress four thousand

Albanians of the garrison, taking refuge in some old khans, offered to

surrender on condition that their lives should be spared; otherwise they

would fight to the bitter end. Their terms were accepted, and two of

Napoleon's aids-de-camp pledged their honor for their safety. They were

marched out to the general's headquarters and seated in front of the

tents with their arms bound behind them. The displeased commander called

a council of war and deliberated two days upon their fate, and then

signed the order for the massacre of the entire body. The excuse was

that the general could not be burdened with so many prisoners. Thus in

one day were murdered in cold blood about as many people as Jaffa at

present contains. Its inhabitants may be said to have been accustomed

to being massacred; eight thousand of them were butchered in one Roman

assault; but I suppose all antiquity may be searched in vain for an act

of perfidy and cruelty combined equal to that of the Grand Emperor.

 

The road over which we rattle is a causeway of loose stones; the country

is a plain of sand, but clothed with a luxuriant vegetation. In the

fields the brown husbandmen are plowing, turning up the soft red earth

with a rude plough drawn by cattle yoked wide apart. Red-legged storks,

on their way, I suppose, from Egypt to their summer residence further

north, dot the meadows, and are too busy picking up worms to notice our

halloo. Abd-el-Atti, who has a passion for shooting, begs permission to

"go for" these household birds with the gun; but we explain to him that

we would no more shoot a stork than one of the green birds of Paradise.

Quails are scudding about in the newly turned furrows, and song

birds salute us from the tops of swinging cypresses. The Holy Land is

rejoicing in its one season of beauty, its spring-time.

 

Trees are not wanting to the verdant meadows. We still encounter an

occasional grove of oranges; olives also appear, and acacias, sycamores,

cypresses, and tamarisks. The pods of the carob-tree are, I believe,

the husks upon which the prodigal son did not thrive. Large patches of

barley are passed. But the fields not occupied with grain are literally

carpeted with wild-flowers of the most brilliant hues, such a display

as I never saw elsewhere: scarlet and dark flaming poppies, the scarlet

anemone, marigolds, white daisies, the lobelia, the lupin, the vetch,

the gorse with its delicate yellow blossom, the pea, something that we

agreed to call the white rose of Sharon, the mallow, the asphodel; the

leaves of a lily not yet in bloom. About the rose of Sharon we no doubt

were mistaken. There is no reason to suppose it was white; but we have

somehow associated the purity of that color with the song beginning, "I

am the rose of Sharon and the lily of the valleys." It was probably not

even a rose. We finally decided to cherish the red mallow as the rose

of Sharon; it is very abundant, and the botanist of our company seemed

satisfied to accept it. For myself, the rose by the name of mallow does

not smell sweet.

 

We come in sight of Rainleh, which lies on the swelling mounds of the

green plain, encompassed by emerald meadows and by groves of orange

and olive, and conspicuous from a great distance by its elegant square

tower, the most beautiful in form that we have seen in the East. As the

sun is sinking, we defer our visit to it and drive to the Latin convent,

where we are to lodge, permission to that effect having been obtained

from the sister convent at Jaffa; a mere form, since a part of the

convent was built expressly for the entertainment of travellers, and the

few monks who occupy it find keeping a hotel a very profitable kind of

hospitality. The stranger is the guest of the superior, no charge is

made, and the little fiction of gratuitous hospitality so pleases the

pilgrim that he will not at his departure be outdone in liberality. It

would be much more agreeable if all our hotels were upon this system.

 

While the dragoman is unpacking the luggage in the court-yard and

bustling about in a manner to impress the establishment with the

importance of its accession, I climb up to the roofs to get the sunset.

The house is all roofs, it would seem, at different levels. Steps lead

here and there, and one can wander about at will; you could not desire

a pleasanter lounging-place in a summer evening. The protecting walls,

which are breast-high, are built in with cylinders of tile, like the mud

houses in Egypt; the tiles make the walls lighter, and furnish at

the same time peep-holes through which the monks can spy the world,

themselves unseen. I noticed that the tiles about the entrance court

were inclined downwards, so that a curious person could study any new

arrival at the convent without being himself observed. The sun went down

behind the square tower which is called Saracenic and is entirely Gothic

in spirit, and the light lay soft and rosy on the wide compass of green

vegetation; I heard on the distant fields the bells of mules returning

to the gates, and the sound substituted Italy in my mind for Palestine.

 

From this prospect I was summoned in haste; the superior of the convent

was waiting to receive me, and I had been sought in all directions. I

had no idea why I should be received, but I soon found that the occasion

was not a trivial one. In the reception-room were seated in some state

the superior, attended by two or three brothers, and the remainder of

my suite already assembled. The abbot, if he is an abbot, arose and

cordially welcomed "the general" to his humble establishment, hoped

that he was not fatigued by the journey from Jaffa, and gave him a seat

beside himself. The remainder of the party were ranged according to

their rank. I replied that the journey was on the contrary delightful,

and that any journey could be considered fortunate which had the

hospitable convent of Ramleh as its end. The courteous monk renewed his

solicitous inquiries, and my astonishment was increased by the botanist,

who gravely assured the worthy father that "the general" was accustomed

to fatigue, and that such a journey as this was a recreation to him.

 

"What in the mischief is all this about?" I seized a moment to whisper

to the person next me.

 

"You are a distinguished American general, travelling with his lady in

pursuit of Heaven knows what, and accompanied by his suite; don't make a

mess of it."

 

"Oh," I said, "if I _am_ a distinguished American general, travelling

with my lady in pursuit of Heaven knows what, I am glad to know it."

 

Fortunately the peaceful father did not know anything more of war than

I did, and I suppose my hastily assumed modesty of the soldier seemed

to him the real thing. It was my first experience of anything like real

war, the first time I had ever occupied any military position, and it

did not seem to be so arduous as has been represented.

 

Great regret was expressed by the superior that they had not anticipated

my arrival, in order to have entertained me in a more worthy manner; the

convent was uncommonly full of pilgrims, and it would be difficult to

lodge my suite as it deserved. Then there followed a long discussion

between the father and one of the monks upon our disposition for the

night.

 

"If we give the general and his lady the south room in the court, then

the doctor"--etc., etc.

 

"Or," urged the monk, "suppose the general and his lady occupy the cell

number four, then mademoiselle can take"--etc., etc.

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