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Anthony Trollope >> A Ride Across Palestine
This etext was produced by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk,
from the 1864 Chapman and Hall "Tales of all Countries" edition.
A RIDE ACROSS PALESTINE
by Anthony Trollope
Circumstances took me to the Holy Land without a companion, and
compelled me to visit Bethany, the Mount of Olives, and the Church
of the Sepulchre alone. I acknowledge myself to be a gregarious
animal, or, perhaps, rather one of those which nature has intended
to go in pairs. At any rate I dislike solitude, and especially
travelling solitude, and was, therefore, rather sad at heart as I
sat one night at Z-'s hotel, in Jerusalem, thinking over my proposed
wanderings for the next few days. Early on the following morning I
intended to start, of course on horseback, for the Dead Sea, the
banks of Jordan, Jericho, and those mountains of the wilderness
through which it is supposed that Our Saviour wandered for the forty
days when the devil tempted him. I would then return to the Holy
City, and remaining only long enough to refresh my horse and wipe
the dust from my hands and feet, I would start again for Jaffa, and
there catch a certain Austrian steamer which would take me to Egypt.
Such was my programme, and I confess that I was but ill contented
with it, seeing that I was to be alone during the time.
I had already made all my arrangements, and though I had no reason
for any doubt as to my personal security during the trip, I did not
feel altogether satisfied with them. I intended to take a French
guide, or dragoman, who had been with me for some days, and to put
myself under the peculiar guardianship of two Bedouin Arabs, who
were to accompany me as long as I should remain east of Jerusalem.
This travelling through the desert under the protection of Bedouins
was, in idea, pleasant enough; and I must here declare that I did
not at all begrudge the forty shillings which I was told by our
British consul that I must pay them for their trouble, in accordance
with the established tariff. But I did begrudge the fact of the
tariff. I would rather have fallen in with my friendly Arabs, as it
were by chance, and have rewarded their fidelity at the end of our
joint journeyings by a donation of piastres to be settled by myself,
and which, under such circumstances, would certainly have been as
agreeable to them as the stipulated sum. In the same way I dislike
having waiters put down in my bill. I find that I pay them twice
over, and thus lose money; and as they do not expect to be so
treated, I never have the advantage of their civility. The world, I
fear, is becoming too fond of tariffs.
"A tariff!" said I to the consul, feeling that the whole romance of
my expedition would be dissipated by such an arrangement. "Then
I'll go alone; I'll take a revolver with me."
"You can't do it, sir," said the consul, in a dry and somewhat angry
tone. "You have no more right to ride through that country without
paying the regular price for protection, than you have to stop in Z-
's hotel without settling the bill."
I could not contest the point, so I ordered my Bedouins for the
appointed day, exactly as I would send for a ticket-porter at home,
and determined to make the best of it. The wild unlimited sands,
the desolation of the Dead Sea, the rushing waters of Jordan, the
outlines of the mountains of Moab;--those things the consular tariff
could not alter, nor deprive them of the glories of their
association.
I had submitted, and the arrangements had been made. Joseph, my
dragoman, was to come to me with the horses and an Arab groom at
five in the morning, and we were to encounter our Bedouins outside
the gate of St. Stephen, down the hill, where the road turns, close
to the tomb of the Virgin.
I was sitting alone in the public room at the hotel, filling my
flask with brandy,--for matters of primary importance I never leave
to servant, dragoman, or guide,--when the waiter entered, and said
that a gentleman wished to speak with me. The gentleman had not
sent in his card or name; but any gentleman was welcome to me in my
solitude, and I requested that the gentleman might enter. In
appearance the gentleman certainly was a gentleman, for I thought
that I had never before seen a young man whose looks were more in
his favour, or whose face and gait and outward bearing seemed to
betoken better breeding. He might be some twenty or twenty-one
years of age, was slight and well made, with very black hair, which
he wore rather long, very dark long bright eyes, a straight nose,
and teeth that were perfectly white. He was dressed throughout in
grey tweed clothing, having coat, waistcoat, and trousers of the
same; and in his hand he carried a very broad-brimmed straw hat.
"Mr. Jones, I believe," he said, as he bowed to me. Jones is a good
travelling name, and, if the reader will allow me, I will call
myself Jones on the present occasion.
"Yes," I said, pausing with the brandy-bottle in one hand, and the
flask in the other. "That's my name; I'm Jones. Can I do anything
for you, sir?"
"Why, yes, you can," said he. "My name is Smith,--John Smith."
"Pray sit down, Mr. Smith," I said, pointing to a chair. "Will you
do anything in this way?" and I proposed to hand the bottle to him.
"As far as I can judge from a short stay, you won't find much like
that in Jerusalem."
He declined the Cognac, however, and immediately began his story.
"I hear, Mr. Jones," said he, "that you are going to Moab to-
morrow."
"Well," I replied, "I don't know whether I shall cross the water.
It's not very easy, I take it, at all times; but I shall certainly
get as far as Jordan. Can I do anything for you in those parts?"
And then he explained to me what was the object of his visit. He
was quite alone in Jerusalem, as I was myself; and was staying at H-
's hotel. He had heard that I was starting for the Dead Sea, and
had called to ask if I objected to his joining me. He had found
himself, he said, very lonely; and as he had heard that I also was
alone, he had ventured to call and make his proposition. He seemed
to be very bashful, and half ashamed of what he was doing; and when
he had done speaking he declared himself conscious that he was
intruding, and expressed a hope that I would not hesitate to say so
if his suggestion were from any cause disagreeable to me.
As a rule I am rather shy of chance travelling English friends. It
has so frequently happened to me that I have had to blush for the
acquaintances whom I have selected, that I seldom indulge in any
close intimacies of this kind. But, nevertheless, I was taken with
John Smith, in spite of his name. There was so much about him that
was pleasant, both to the eye and to the understanding! One meets
constantly with men from contact with whom one revolts without
knowing the cause of such dislike. The cut of their beard is
displeasing, or the mode in which they walk or speak. But, on the
other hand, there are men who are attractive, and I must confess
that I was attracted by John Smith at first sight. I hesitated,
however, for a minute; for there are sundry things of which it
behoves a traveller to think before he can join a companion for such
a journey as that which I was about to make. Could the young man
rise early, and remain in the saddle for ten hours together? Could
he live upon hard-boiled eggs and brandy-and-water? Could he take
his chance of a tent under which to sleep, and make himself happy
with the bare fact of being in the desert? He saw my hesitation,
and attributed it to a cause which was not present in my mind at the
moment, though the subject was one of the greatest importance when
strangers consent to join themselves together for a time, and agree
to become no strangers on the spur of the moment.
"Of course I will take half the expense," said he, absolutely
blushing as he mentioned the matter.
"As to that there will be very little. You have your own horse, of
course?"
"Oh, yes."
"My dragoman and groom-boy will do for both. But you'll have to pay
forty shillings to the Arabs! There's no getting over that. The
consul won't even look after your dead body, if you get murdered,
without going through that ceremony."
Mr. Smith immediately produced his purse, which he tendered to me.
"If you will manage it all," said he, "it will make it so much the
easier, and I shall be infinitely obliged to you." This of course I
declined to do. I had no business with his purse, and explained to
him that if we went together we could settle that on our return to
Jerusalem. "But could he go through really hard work?" I asked. He
answered me with an assurance that he would and could do anything in
that way that it was possible for man to perform. As for eating and
drinking he cared nothing about it, and would undertake to be astir
at any hour of the morning that might be named. As for sleeping
accommodation, he did not care if he kept his clothes on for a week
together. He looked slight and weak; but he spoke so well, and that
without boasting, that I ultimately agreed to his proposal, and in a
few minutes he took his leave of me, promising to be at Z-'s door
with his horse at five o'clock on the following morning.
"I wish you'd allow me to leave my purse with you," he said again.
"I cannot think of it. There is no possible occasion for it," I
said again. "If there is anything to pay, I'll ask you for it when
the journey is over. That forty shillings you must fork out. It's
a law of the Medes and Persians."
"I'd better give it you at once," he said again, offering me money.
But I would not have it. It would be quite time enough for that
when the Arabs were leaving us.
"Because," he added, "strangers, I know, are sometimes suspicious
about money; and I would not, for worlds, have you think that I
would put you to expense." I assured him that I did not think so,
and then the subject was dropped.
He was, at any rate, up to his time, for when I came down on the
following morning I found him in the narrow street, the first on
horseback. Joseph, the Frenchman, was strapping on to a rough pony
our belongings, and was staring at Mr. Smith. My new friend,
unfortunately, could not speak a word of French, and therefore I had
to explain to the dragoman how it had come to pass that our party
was to be enlarged.
"But the Bedouins will expect full pay for both," said he, alarmed.
Men in that class, and especially Orientals, always think that every
arrangement of life, let it be made in what way it will, is made
with the intention of saving some expense, or cheating somebody out
of some money. They do not understand that men can have any other
object, and are ever on their guard lest the saving should be made
at their cost, or lest they should be the victims of the fraud.
"All right," said I.
"I shall be responsible, Monsieur," said the dragoman, piteously.
"It shall be all right," said I, again. "If that does not satisfy
you, you may remain behind."
"If Monsieur says it is all right, of course it is so;" and then he
completed his strapping. We took blankets with us, of which I had
to borrow two out of the hotel for my friend Smith, a small hamper
of provisions, a sack containing forage for the horses, and a large
empty jar, so that we might supply ourselves with water when leaving
the neighbourhood of wells for any considerable time.
"I ought to have brought these things for myself," said Smith, quite
unhappy at finding that he had thrown on me the necessity of
catering for him. But I laughed at him, saying that it was nothing;
he should do as much for me another time. I am prepared to own that
I do not willingly rush up-stairs and load myself with blankets out
of strange rooms for men whom I do not know; nor, as a rule, do I
make all the Smiths of the world free of my canteen. But, with
reference to this fellow I did feel more than ordinarily good-
natured and unselfish. There was something in the tone of his voice
which was satisfactory; and I should really have felt vexed had
anything occurred at the last moment to prevent his going with me.
Let it be a rule with every man to carry an English saddle with him
when travelling in the East. Of what material is formed the nether
man of a Turk I have never been informed, but I am sure that it is
not flesh and blood. No flesh and blood,--simply flesh and blood,--
could withstand the wear and tear of a Turkish saddle. This being
the case, and the consequences being well known to me, I was grieved
to find that Smith was not properly provided. He was seated on one
of those hard, red, high-pointed machines, in which the shovels
intended to act as stirrups are attached in such a manner, and hang
at such an angle, as to be absolutely destructive to the leg of a
Christian. There is no part of the Christian body with which the
Turkish saddle comes in contact that does not become more or less
macerated. I have sat in one for days, but I left it a flayed man;
and, therefore, I was sorry for Smith.
I explained this to him, taking hold of his leg by the calf to show
how the leather would chafe him; but it seemed to me that he did not
quite like my interference. "Never mind," said he, twitching his
leg away, "I have ridden in this way before."
"Then you must have suffered the very mischief?"
"Only a little, and I shall be used to it now. You will not hear me
complain."
"By heavens, you might have heard me complain a mile off when I came
to the end of a journey I once took. I roared like a bull when I
began to cool. Joseph, could you not get a European saddle for Mr.
Smith?" But Joseph did not seem to like Mr. Smith, and declared
such a thing to be impossible. No European in Jerusalem would think
of lending so precious an article, except to a very dear friend.
Joseph himself was on an English saddle, and I made up my mind that
after the first stage, we would bribe him to make an exchange. And
then we started.
The Bedouins were not with us, but we were to meet them, as I have
said before, outside St. Stephen's gate. "And if they are not
there," said Joseph, "we shall be sure to come across them on the
road."
"Not there!" said I. "How about the consul's tariff, if they don't
keep their part of the engagement?" But Joseph explained to me that
their part of the engagement really amounted to this,--that we
should ride into their country without molestation, provided that
such and such payments were made.
It was the period of Easter, and Jerusalem was full of pilgrims.
Even at that early hour of the morning we could hardly make our way
through the narrow streets. It must be understood that there is no
accommodation in the town for the fourteen or fifteen thousand
strangers who flock to the Holy Sepulchre at this period of the
year. Many of them sleep out in the open air, lying on low benches
which run along the outside walls of the houses, or even on the
ground, wrapped in their thick hoods and cloaks. Slumberers such as
these are easily disturbed, nor are they detained long at their
toilets. They shake themselves like dogs, and growl and stretch
themselves, and then they are ready for the day.
We rode out of the town in a long file. First went the groom-boy; I
forget his proper Syrian appellation, but we used to call him
Mucherry, that sound being in some sort like the name. Then
followed the horse with the forage and blankets, and next to him my
friend Smith in the Turkish saddle. I was behind him, and Joseph
brought up the rear. We moved slowly down the Via Dolorosa, noting
the spot at which our Saviour is said to have fallen while bearing
his cross; we passed by Pilate's house, and paused at the gate of
the Temple,--the gate which once was beautiful,--looking down into
the hole of the pool in which the maimed and halt were healed
whenever the waters moved. What names they are! And yet there at
Jerusalem they are bandied to and fro with as little reverence as
are the fanciful appellations given by guides to rocks and stones
and little lakes in all countries overrun by tourists.
"For those who would still fain believe,--let them stay at home,"
said my friend Smith.
"For those who cannot divide the wheat from the chaff, let THEM stay
at home," I answered. And then we rode out through St. Stephen's
gate, having the mountain of the men of Galilee directly before us,
and the Mount of Olives a little to our right, and the Valley of
Jehoshaphat lying between us and it. "Of course you know all these
places now?" said Smith. I answered that I did know them well.
"And was it not better for you when you knew them only in Holy
Writ?" he asked.
"No, by Jove," said I. "The mountains stand where they ever stood.
The same valleys are still green with the morning dew, and the
water-courses are unchanged. The children of Mahomet may build
their tawdry temple on the threshing-floor which David bought that
there might stand the Lord's house. Man may undo what man did, even
though the doer was Solomon. But here we have God's handiwork and
His own evidences."
At the bottom of the steep descent from the city gate we came to the
tomb of the Virgin; and by special agreement made with Joseph we
left our horses here for a few moments, in order that we might
descend into the subterranean chapel under the tomb, in which mass
was at this moment being said. There is something awful in that
chapel, when, as at the present moment, it is crowded with Eastern
worshippers from the very altar up to the top of the dark steps by
which the descent is made. It must be remembered that Eastern
worshippers are not like the churchgoers of London, or even of Rome
or Cologne. They are wild men of various nations and races,--
Maronites from Lebanon Roumelians, Candiotes, Copts from Upper
Egypt, Russians from the Crimea, Armenians and Abyssinians. They
savour strongly of Oriental life and of Oriental dirt. They are
clad in skins or hairy cloaks with huge hoods. Their heads are
shaved, and their faces covered with short, grisly, fierce beards.
They are silent mostly, looking out of their eyes ferociously, as
though murder were in their thoughts, and rapine. But they never
slouch, or cringe in their bodies, or shuffle in their gait. Dirty,
fierce-looking, uncouth, repellent as they are, there is always
about them a something of personal dignity which is not compatible
with an Englishman's ordinary hat and pantaloons.
As we were about to descend, preparing to make our way through the
crowd, Smith took hold of my arm. "That will never do, my dear
fellow," said I, "the job will be tough enough for a single file,
but we should never cut our way two and two. I'm broad-shouldered
and will go first." So I did, and gradually we worked our way into
the body of the chapel. How is it that Englishmen can push
themselves anywhere? These men were fierce-looking, and had murder
and rapine, as I have said, almost in their eyes. One would have
supposed that they were not lambs or doves, capable of being thrust
here or there without anger on their part; and they, too, were all
anxious to descend and approach the altar. Yet we did win our way
through them, and apparently no man was angry with us. I doubt,
after all, whether a ferocious eye and a strong smell and dirt are
so efficacious in creating awe and obedience in others, as an open
brow and traces of soap and water. I know this, at least,--that a
dirty Maronite would make very little progress, if he attempted to
shove his way unfairly through a crowd of Englishmen at the door of
a London theatre. We did shove unfairly, and we did make progress,
till we found ourselves in the centre of the dense crowd collected
in the body of the chapel.
Having got so far, our next object was to get out again. The place
was dark, mysterious, and full of strange odours; but darkness,
mystery, and strange odours soon lose their charms when men have
much work before them. Joseph had made a point of being allowed to
attend mass before the altar of the Virgin, but a very few minutes
sufficed for his prayers. So we again turned round and pushed our
way back again, Smith still following in my wake. The men who had
let us pass once let us pass again without opposition or show of
anger. To them the occasion was very holy. They were stretching
out their hands in every direction, with long tapers, in order that
they might obtain a spark of the sacred fire which was burning on
one of the altars. As we made our way out we passed many who, with
dumb motions, begged us to assist them in their object. And we did
assist them, getting lights for their tapers, handing them to and
fro, and using the authority with which we seemed to be invested.
But Smith, I observed, was much more courteous in this way to the
women than to the men, as I did not forget to remind him when we
were afterwards on our road together.
Remounting our horses we rode slowly up the winding ascent of the
Mount of Olives, turning round at the brow of the hill to look back
over Jerusalem. Sometimes I think that of all spots in the world
this one should be the spot most cherished in the memory of
Christians. It was there that He stood when He wept over the city.
So much we do know, though we are ignorant, and ever shall be so, of
the site of His cross and of the tomb. And then we descended on the
eastern side of the hill, passing through Bethany, the town of
Lazarus and his sisters, and turned our faces steadily towards the
mountains of Moab.
Hitherto we had met no Bedouins, and I interrogated my dragoman
about them more than once; but he always told me that it did not
signify; we should meet them, he said, before any danger could
arise. "As for danger," said I, "I think more of this than I do of
the Arabs," and I put my hand on my revolver. "But as they agreed
to be here, here they ought to be. Don't you carry a revolver,
Smith?"
Smith said that he never had done so, but that he would take the
charge of mine if I liked. To this, however, I demurred. "I never
part with my pistol to any one," I said, rather drily. But he
explained that he only intended to signify that if there were danger
to be encountered, he would be glad to encounter it; and I fully
believed him. "We shan't have much fighting," I replied; "but if
there be any, the tool will come readiest to the hand of its master.
But if you mean to remain here long I would advise you to get one.
These Orientals are a people with whom appearances go a long way,
and, as a rule, fear and respect mean the same thing with them. A
pistol hanging over your loins is no great trouble to you, and looks
as though you could bite. Many a dog goes through the world well by
merely showing his teeth."
And then my companion began to talk of himself. "He did not," he
said, "mean to remain in Syria very long."
"Nor I either," said I. "I have done with this part of the world
for the present, and shall take the next steamer from Jaffa for
Alexandria. I shall only have one night in Jerusalem on my return."
After this he remained silent for a few moments and then declared
that that also had been his intention. He was almost ashamed to say
so, however, because it looked as though he had resolved to hook
himself on to me. So he answered, expressing almost regret at the
circumstance.
"Don't let that trouble you," said I; "I shall be delighted to have
your company. When you know me better, as I hope you will do, you
will find that if such were not the case I should tell you so as
frankly. I shall remain in Cairo some little time; so that beyond
our arrival in Egypt, I can answer for nothing."
He said that he expected letters at Alexandria which would govern
his future movements. I thought he seemed sad as he said so, and
imagined, from his manner, that he did not expect very happy
tidings. Indeed I had made up my mind that he was by no means free
from care or sorrow. He had not the air of a man who could say of
himself that he was "totus teres atque rotundus." But I had no wish
to inquire, and the matter would have dropped had he not himself
added--"I fear that I shall meet acquaintances in Egypt whom it will
give me no pleasure to see."
"Then," said I, "if I were you, I would go to Constantinople
instead;--indeed, anywhere rather than fall among friends who are
not friendly. And the nearer the friend is, the more one feels that
sort of thing. To my way of thinking, there is nothing on earth so
pleasant as a pleasant wife; but then, what is there so damnable as
one that is unpleasant?"
"Are you a married man?" he inquired. All his questions were put in
a low tone of voice which seemed to give to them an air of special
interest, and made one almost feel that they were asked with some
special view to one's individual welfare. Now the fact is, that I
am a married man with a family; but I am not much given to talk to
strangers about my domestic concerns, and, therefore, though I had
no particular object in view, I denied my obligations in this
respect. "No," said I; "I have not come to that promotion yet. I
am too frequently on the move to write myself down as
Paterfamilias."