Wanderings eastward : a diary of travels in Egypt, Palestine, Syria, Turkey, and Greece, in 1885

Preface

. A PORTION of the following notes from my Diary, were printed in "The Leicester Chronicle," in 1885, under the title of "Wanderings Eastward." At the request of many friends I have reprinted them in a cheap form, hoping that a popular account by an ordinary tourist would prove interesting to those unable to visit those lands. I make no pretence of literary merit, but just mention the events which struck me in passing through the various countries we visited. I offer them in the hope that others may share in imagination the pleasure which we have had in travelling, and that it may excite an interest in the land of the Bible, and open one's eyes to the advantages which England owes to its religious teaching. THEODORE WALKER, F.R.G.S. ROSENEATH, Leicester, 1886. CONTENTS. PAGE Chapter I. — Anticipation — Journey to Venice 5 Chapter II. — Venice — Trieste — The Adriatic — Corfu — Alexandria...

Chapter III. — Drives about Alexandria — Journey to Cairo — Bazaars — Citadel Mosque — Sunset Chapter IV. — Pont-du-Nil — Visit to Great Pyramid — Donkey Boys — Ostrich Farm — Farewell Tea to Soldiers Chapter V. — Pyramid of Sakkarah — Memphis Tombs — Villages — Wife of Arabi Chapter VI. — Back Slums of Cairo — Coptic Church — Rail to Ismalia — Port Said — Land at Jaffa — Luxuriant Vegetation Chapter VII. — House of Simon the Tanner — Orange Groves — Journey to Jerusalem — Plain of Sharon — Ramleh — First View of Jerusalem Chapter VIII. — Ride to Jordan Valley — Wilderness of Judæa — Jackals — Dead Sea — Russian Pilgrims Chapter IX. — Bethany — Mount of Olives — History of Jerusalem — Gethsemane — Valley of Hinnom ... Chapter X.— The Jews— The Wailing Place— The Temple Area— El Aksa— Beautiful Gate of the Temple — Interest of the Holy City Chapter XI. — Church of the Holy Sepulchre — Catholic Procession — Service on Mount Zion — Mount Calvary — Turkish Oppression Chapter XII. — Church of the Knights of St. John, its possession by Germany — Visit to Bethlehem — Solomon's Pools — Church of the Nativity Chapter XIII.— City Life of Jerusalem— City Walls— Gates Closed at Night- Domestic Life of People — Last Supper — Marriage Ceremonies ' ...

Chapter XIV. — Sadness of the People — View from Mount of Olives Departure of the Princes — Route to Bethel Chapter XV.— Hills of Samaria — Shiloh— Jacob's Well— Village Fair — Nablous— Samaritan Synagogue — Samaria— Plain of Esdrealon — Nain Chapter XVI.— Nazareth— Franciscan Church— Protestant Orphanage— Surrounding Country — Lake of Galilee — Capernaum... Chapter XVII.— Lake Merom— Bedouin Arabs — Mount Hermon — Baneas or Cæsarea Philippi — Dan — Ride into Damascus Chapter XVIII. — Damascus — Storm on Anti-Lebanon ... Chapter XIX.— Ruins of Baalbek— Druses— Maronites— Ride into Beyrout— Jesuit College— Retrospect— Decay of Ottoman Empire Chapter XX.— Sail to Cyprus— Church of St. Lazarus— Want of Trees- Thunderstorm at Sea — Chios Chapter XXI.— Smyrna— Drive to Bournabat— Turkish Conscript's 'on Board —Dardanelles— Arrival at Constantinople— Custom House— First View of the City Chapter XXII^-Pera-Stamboul-St. Sophia'- Hippodrome -Tomb of iultan — Golden Horn— Bosphorus — Scutari Chapter XXIII.-Mosque of Howling Dervishes-Good Friday in'the Greek Church— Sultan goes to Mosque— Caique on Sweet Waters Chapter^XXIV-Bazaars-Turkish Lunch-Easter Ceremonies-Robing of Chapter XXV— Ride to Hissar— Stamboul— Walls of the' City Chapter XXVI.— Athens— The Acropolis— Mars' Hill Chapter XXVII.-Drive to Eleusis-Leave Athens-Corfu-HomeAgain '" Chapter XXVIII.-Conclusion-Life of the East-Having our Eyes Opened 13 18 = 3 28 33 39 44 49 54 59 6 5 7i 75 So 85 9i 95 IOO 104 Ill n8 123 128 133 137

Chapter I

Anticipation — Journey to Venice. MY wife and I left England on January 31st. We chose the overland route as being pleasanter than the stormy "Bay" in February, and were very glad we did so, as friends whom we met encountered very severe weather bDth in the Bay of Biscay and in the Mediterranean. As we speed out of Charing Cross, the sky was lower ing and stormy. We left smoky London far behind, and had a pleasant run to Folkestone. The steamer is alongside the harbour pier, and we start ten minutes after the arrival of the train. Outside the harbour the "silver streak" is angry and wild, and directly we get clear a sea strikes the boat, and drives all the passengers below for shelter. Soon almost every one is in a state of misery, the rain and wind rising to a gale, but as our boat is a paddle-steamer, she is driven full speed ahead, and faces the seas bravely.

In a short time we are under the lea of Cape Grisnez, which looms dimly ahead. Soon Boulogne is left far behind, and we reach our destination about eight in the evening. Paris is so well-known to most people that I will not stop to describe its cleanliness, brightness, and variety. We visited our valued old Leicester friend, Rev. R. W. Me All, whose great mission work in France is noted all over the world. It was pleasant to hear the familiar hymns sung by French voices, the congregation sitting to sing and pray, as they do in the old Presbyterian churches. The mission has a deep hold now on the people, and, judging by the earnest demeanour of those present, seems to be greatly appreciated. We spent the Monday in sightseeing, including a pleasant journey up the river Seine, which sparkled with numberless lights as we returned at night, just in time to drive to the Gare-de-Lyon, register luggage, and seat ourselves in the train.

We steam out of the station at 7.13 p.m for a night's journey to Turin. It is quite light by 7 a.m., by which time we are approaching the slope of Mont Cenis. There is little snow on the French side. The roads and rails are quite clear, but there is just a sprinkling on the mountain tops. Soon after leaving Modane we steam into the tunnel, which takes half-an-hour to go through. We had heard of the block on this line, and the terrible avalanches in Italy, but were not quite prepared for the scene before us. Our eyes were dazzled by the intense glare of snow, which was falling fast. Great drifts, io or 12 feet high, were piled up on each side of the rails, and a few yards from the entrance to the tunnel our train was brought to a stand by the snow clogging under the engine. Here we were snowed up !

Twenty or thirty men were quickly at work shovelling the track clear, and digging under the engine to free it. After several ineffectual trials to get on it was detached, and charged into the snow, and cleared it sufficiently for us to move off. Everything seemed covered with snow. The houses had i^ft. to 2ft. on their roofs, and telegraph wires were hanging broken in many places. It was a strange sight to see these valleys of Italy snowed up, the roads impassible, and enormous icicles hanging from the rocks. Our train rapidly rushed down hill, and at 2 p.m. we reached Turin. A dull fog hung overhead, the streets were blocked with dirty slushy snow, the beautiful city looked dull and miserable, and the Italians cold and cross. The shops were under overhanging colonnades, similar to Chester, which, though delightfully cool in summer, were rather dark now.

Everywhere soldiers ! Bersaglieri, with cocks' feathers in their round sailor-looking hats ! Soldiers in all shades of blue ! What a terrible weight of taxation continental nations have to bear ! We visited the Palais Royal first, and saw the reception rooms and throne room, which are very beautifully decorated with gold, the ceilings painted in the best Italian style, the floors being of polished oak. The paintings and statuary are also very beautiful. As we walked through the rooms the Queen mother passed, with her ladies in waiting, and finding we were English, she kindly sent her chamberlain to show us the private apartments, the king's chapel, and oratory in the cathedral. We met with unfailing courtesy and kindness in Italy. The wonderful development of the country in so short a time must strike one as worthy of a great nation.

The next day, February 4th, we started at 9.15 for Venice. It was a very dull morning, and for several miles the fog continued thick. Gradually the clouds lifted, and in a moment the whole chain of the Alps was before us in all their glory against the clear sky. How the quick blood coursed through one's veins, and one's whole nature rose in admiration, and swelled into a pæan of praise as we gazed and drank to the full of the wondrous sight ! The flat plains of dazzling white, the nearer hills brilliant in snow, and Alp on Alp soaring aloft. It seemed like a glimpse of the very gate of heaven ; so pure, brilliant, lofty, and ethereal. The Italians had not known such a severe winter for many years, and alas ! many lives have been lost by the thundering avalanches burying whole villages. We recognised many a familiar peak — Monte Rosa, the Matterhorn, and the Pass of St. Gothard.

As we neared Milan there was less snow. Here we had an hour to wait, which we employed by glancing at the glorious cathedral, one of the wonders of the world. The whole of northern Italy looked like a gigantic market garden, planted with long rows of mulberry trees, and festooned with vines. Where the snow had disappeared they were ploughing with oxen — fawn or cream-coloured handsome cattle. They manure the ground well, and get very fine crops under the trees. Approaching Lake Yarda the country looked very lonely — the lake blue and tranquil, with vine-clad hills rising all around, and the snowy Alps peeping from behind the clouds. Red-tiled Italian houses, monasteries, churches with bell towers or campaniles, clumps of olives with pale evergreen foliage, dark green cypresses, and the earth a rich brown, made a variety of beautiful pictures.

Onescia passed, then the city of Verona was reached, a very strongly fortified town, most beautifully situated on the slope of a hill, with earthworks, bridges, moats, barracks, and cannon frowning from the loopholes, looking very formidable. This is the end of the Breuner Pass on the Austrian frontier. The sun was sinking as we left Verona, tinting the landscapes a lovely purple. Every field is divided in rows of mulberry or willow trees, and is watered by ditches of carefully made channels bringing water from the rivers. The land is mostly a flat plain, not undulating as in England, and the lofty mountains rise directly from the plain. We reach Venice at 7-30. Venice ! the pride of the ocean, how lovely in the sunlight art thou ! O wondrous city of the sea, sitting as a queen upon her throne.

What poetry of motion to find oneself gliding along on a gondola ! This, propelled by a man in the prow and one at the stern, glides smoothly along the narrow canals, and we stop at the marble steps of an old palace, and find it our hotel, just as the clocks are striking midnight, and the sound rolls away into the darkness. We are awakened at four by the bells of St. Mark's calling for matins, and in the early morning we hear parties of workmen going to their work singing in unison, their fine voices echoing along the silent canals. After breakfast we are joined by three voyagers, our future companions in the East, and as we have the day to spare, we together visit the sights of Venice.

Chapter II

Venice — Trieste — The Adriatic — Corfu — Alexandria. EARLY next morning we visited the sights of Venice, accompanied by a local guide. The chief attractions of the city are the noble church of St. Mark, and the palace of the "Doges," as the ancient rulers were called. St. Mark's is built on one side of the large Piazza, or public square. It is in shape like a Greek cross, with a lofty centre dome, surrounded by four lesser domes on the four sides. The church was founded in a.d. 828, for the purpose of receiving the body of St. Mark, who was buried in Alexandria, and was brought thence by the Venetians. The symbol of St. Mark, the winged lion, has been the symbol of the Venetian Republic ever since. The old church was destroyed by fire in 976, and rebuilt in n n, and adorned with great magnificence by many of the Doges.

Over the principal entrance are four bronze horses, brought from Constantinople, where they had been removed from one of the triumphal arches. Napoleon carried them to Paris in 1797, where they adorned the Place du Carrousel, till finally they (were restored to Venice in 1815. Inside the beautiful entrance porch is a white marble slab where Pope Alexander III. and the Emperor Barbarossa were reconciled. The interior of the domes is covered with gilt mosaic, inlaid and covered with glass, and although 700 years old, is bright and beautiful as ever. There are 500 marble columns, many of them of the richest and costliest kind. Beneath the high altar lie the remains of St. Mark, and behind it is a canopy supported on four columns of alabaster said to be brought from the temple of Jerusalem. There are also eight columns from the temple of Jerusalem.

There are also eight columns from the temple of Diana at Ephesus. The pavement is worn by the feet of countless worshippers. It is all inlaid with variegated marbles, and from the steps of the chancel the Doges used to incite the nobles to the crusades. We next visited the palace of the Doges, triumphs of architectural skill, with marble corridors, staircases, statues, fountains, galleries of paintings, and enormous state rooms, the walls and ceilings of which were painted by Titian, Tintoretto, and Paul Veronese. Though these works are so old they look like painted windows, so brilliant are they. We ascended the Campanile or bell tower of St. Mark by an inclined plane, which is so easy of ascent that Napoleon rode up on horseback. It is 323 feet high, and forms a land mark for vessels far out in the Adriatic.

From its summit we had a lovely view of the city, intersected by its canals, and standing in the midst of the shallow waters of the surrounding sea, while on the land side were the plains and snow-clad Alps, which form the barrier of Switzerland and Austria. At 4 p.m. we took train to Trieste, crossed the frontier at Cormons into Austria, and reached Trieste at io p.m., spending the next morning in seeing the town, which is built on the slope of a hill. It seems a very flourishing place, and is the only seaport of any importance in Austria. The Hotel de la Ville faces the quays, at which lay numbers of steamers and ships. Crowds of people were passing, and omnibuses, carriages, hand-carts, very narrow waggons drawn by one or two oxen — large cream-coloured, long-horned bullocks — which looked strange to our English eyes.

We wandered about the streets, and it was interesting to notice the different types of people we came across. The peasant girls wear bright-coloured scarfs on their heads, and short linsey petticoats. We had time to climb up to the fortress, and get a bird's eye view of the town, which nestles amid the encircling hills. A long embankment or mole forms a fine harbour for shipping. At mid-day we went on board the steamer Achille, and at two o'clock the ropes were cast off from the pier, and we steamed out of the bay. A strong stern wind was blowing, but we had smooth water towards night. The Achille is one of the fleet of the Austrian Lloyd's Company, which is said to be owned by the Austrian Royal Family. The captain and most of the crew were Italians, who speak no English. The next day passed pleasantly away in reading and conversation.

We found the meals served at different times from English vessels ; coffee and a roll at eight, dejeuner or lunch at io, and dinner at 5 p.m., so we all got rather hungry between whiles. Sunday dawned quiet and peaceful. Not a cloud was to be seen in the clear sky, and scarcely a ripple on the lovely blue of the Adriatic. The mountains of Herzegovina and Albania were covered with snow. Our little company of English assembled for service in the cabin, most courteously allowed us by the captain. At two we reached Corfu, off the coast of Albania. This is one of the fairest spots on earth. Steam ing up the sound a most beautiful view presents itself. A fine sweep of bay forms a safe anchorage, in which lie men of war, steamers, and ships of many nations. High above, a strong citadel and fortifications com mand the town ; at its foot fine ranges of houses overlook the sea, and in the distance the snow-clad hills of Albania, the nearer hills melting into gorgeous tints of blue and purple.

Our anchor was let go close by one of our largest ironclads — the Devastation, with her strange turrets and low decks, the British white ensign flying, and her decks crowded with blue jackets, marines, and artillerymen; near at hand was an Austrian war ship, a Greek man-of-war, and many steamers. None of the Eastern ports have any piers at which vessels can land, although they might be made at a moderate cost, and at every port we have to land in small boats, very often at great expense. Several boats swarmed around us, and we embarked with a local guide, being glad to go ashore for a few hours after a two days' sail. The sun was shining as brightly and as hot as in July, and as we landed what a strange scene was before us ! Passing through vaulted archways we entered the market, where oranges, lemons, and other fruits are sold.

This being the commence ment of the Carnival everyone was in festive dress, and the town had a most animated appearance. We threaded our way up towards the citadel. The streets were crowded, multitudes of the peasantry from the neighbourhood having assembled to witness the scene. In the principal square between the town and the fortress — a fine open space — thousands had assembled, walking about and listening to the Greek garrison band playing opera music. 'Twas Sunday afternoon, and it was strange to see the various nationalities— Jews and Greeks in European dress, Austrians in military attire, Greek priests in black robes and black hats somewhat like a beaver with a brim at the top instead of the bottom ; Albanians clad in a picturesque costume of sheepskin coats, gay sashes, short kilt of white calico, their legs bound round with hide, and shoes with long pointed tips ; gaily dressed ladies and gentlemen, beggars in every variety of costume, Greek soldiers and sailors, Austrian and English sailors, blue jackets, artillerymen, scarlet coated marines, Albanian peasant girls with strange looking costumes ; bands of masque raders, men dressed as Jews, with masked faces, and women in all kinds of fantastic costumes, carriage loads of people with masks, little children as pilgrims, everywhere gaiety, life, and action; bands of dancers waltzing to the music, and all the crowd light-hearted and gay.

We especially noticed the complete absence of drunkenness ; plenty of coffee and ice waters were consumed, and the crowd were courteous and orderly. The priests encourage the Carnival as a sort of licence before Lent, during which the Catholic and Greek churches fast. We, of course, visited the fortifications, in the gardens of which and about the ramparts geraniums were flowering, with large daisies, white and yellow marigolds, and many wild flowers quite new to us. We seemed to have come from winter into summer. The air was balmy and the sun scorching. The prickly pear, or cactus, with round thick leaves growing out of one another, forms an impenetrable hedge, while the vegetation is sub-tropical, there being aloes, palms, orange, lemon, and cypress trees, with quantities of flowers seen only in greenhouses at home.

We walked through a long tunnel across a drawbridge into the citadel, where numbers of Greek recruits were on and off duty. The Venetians built many of these massive fortifications, which set at defiance the whole power of the Turks in 1537 and 1570, and also in 17 16, which was remarkable as the last great attempt of the Turks to extend their conquests in Europe. The English held Corfu from 1815 to 1864, when our Government built barracks, made roads, and greatly improved the town. The people still speak of our rule with pride, many of them yet calling them themselves British subjects. Our steamer whistled for us to come off; we were rowed out, the anchor was weighed, and soon lovely Corfu faded in the distance. It was quite dark at 5 p.m. (English time), and under the brilliant stars we walked the deck, and inhaled the delicious warm air.

All next day we were coasting by Crete, and passing Clauda, mentioned in Acts 27 c, 16 v. The land is mountainous, the bare hills having snow on their summits. Then we sailed across the Mediterranean direct to Alexandria. The sun was so hot that we had to be sheltered by an awning ; the sea a lovely indescribable blue, deeper and more brilliant than the sky above ; and at night the air was balmy and warm. Truly we were favoured with a fine passage ! Towards Wednesday night we approached Alexandria, and all eyes were directed to catch sight of land, but we reached the entrance of the harbour too late to enter, so were obliged to lie off the Pharos lighthouse. I rose before dawn ; the pilot came on board, and we slowly glided into the celebrated harbour of Alexandria. The shores are so low that they cannot be seen far out to sea.

The Pharos lighthouse, which figures in the pictures of the bombardment, stands on a promontory ; a long mole or breakwater stretches in front of the harbour, in which were anchored crowds of snips and steamers. Among them I noticed the Monarch and other of our war ships. On our right are the forts of Mex and Ras-el-Tin, and on our left Ramleh. The Achille flies the Austrian flag, and just behind us steams in the P. and O. steamship from Brindisi. Directly the anchor was let go, our vessel was surrounded with boats full of gaily dressed Arabs waiting to take us ashore, but the health officer must first come on board. He speedily arrived in a boat bearing the Sultan's flag, and manned by sailors wearing the red fez. In a few moments we were surrounded by a motley group of Arabs, and we laughed heartily at a party of passengers descending the ladder to the boats, who were being scrambled for by the Arab boatman, one Arab getting hold of a passenger, and another trying to pull him into another boat.

Finally, we were rowed ashore, and set our feet on African soil. The baggage was passed through the Custom House, and we took a carriage and drove to the Hotel Abbat. During the disturbance following the bombardment this was the only hotel which escaped destruction. The mob, wild with fury, and un checked by any authority, ran riot through the town, burning and destroying, though a handful of troops would have prevented all the mischief. The hotel was saved by the plucky defence of two or three inmates. The scene which presented itself was, to those fresh from Europe, very extraordinary. Everything was so different. Imagine a great, stalwart man, in baggy trousers reaching down to the ankles, a short jacket of every conceivable colour, yellow, red, brown, or green, a bright sash round the waist, a waistcoat of striped material, a red fez wrapped round with a long white gauzy cloth, or a coloured handker chief as a turban, a skin of any colour between black and brown, and behold an Arab !

The women are the most remarkable, however. Imagine an outer garment of navy blue or black, covering the person from head to foot, gathered over the head just above the eyes, with a slit lengthways from face to breast, which opening is closed by a thin black gauze, just allowing the eyes to be seen, and nothing else, and lo, an eastern woman ! Most of the Moslem women here have a brass ornament worn in front of their nose. The Coptic, or native Christian women, show their faces, which are by no means beautiful. The unmarried girls generally wear a garment entirely of white calico. The dress of the fellah women, as the peasantry are called, is dark blue ; the men mostly affect very bright colours, and no two are exactly alike. A long row of donkeys, bright active animals, with saddles eight inches high to raise the rider's legs from the ground, and gaily adorned with tassels and saddle cloth, are waiting to be hired.

Yonder goes a narrow four-wheeled cart, on which sit eight or ten veiled women, going to the cemetery to visit the graves of their friends. What a sensation one of these women would make walking down Leicester streets ! Arabic is the language spoken, and it is not till we get a Dragoman, or guide, who speaks English that we are enabled to visit the city. The town seems all in a ferment, everyone is talking of the fall of Khartoum, and there is an ominous restlessness among the Arabs which is not reassuring. But yonder, in that great building facing the ruined square of Mahomet Ali, is a company of our red coats, and the black uniform of the Rifle Brigade, and we feel the safer for their presence. In a few minutes we all go out to visit the bazaars and sights of Alexandria.

Chapter III

Drives about Alexandria — Journey to Cairo — Bazaars — Citadel Mosque — Sunset. THE news of the fall of Khartoum had only transpired a few days before our arrival in Alexandria, and the Arab population was in an excited state. In walking through the bazaars and back streets of the city we were often scowled at, and once a member of our party was spat upon. We were told that Alexandria was the most fanatical city amongst the Moslems, even more than Cairo or Damascus. We should have thought quite the contrary from its contact with Europeans, but it was explained that at Alexandria the worst specimens of Christians are met with. Foreign sailors of every nation are constantly seen drunk and disorderly ; therefore the Moslems judged Christianity by these specimens, and hated their religion accordingly.

The great square of Mahomet Ali is in the centre of the European quarter. On each side are heaps of ruins, and in many of the principal streets also large blocks of buildings present a similar appearance. Several blocks are being rapidly rebuilt, and in a few years' time, if there is a stable Government, few traces will be left of the burning of the city. The first drive through a foreign town is always very attractive. The Dragoman, or inter preter who accompanied us, was dressed in the Oriental costume — large baggy trousers and fez cap. The principal streets are paved liked Naples, with square blocks of stone, with side walks and European shops, but once out of the European quarter the scene changes. The streets get worse and worse. The carriage flounders through mud pools and jolts over stones as we pass along.

The houses get very poor, and the people look dirty and wretched. At last we saw the famous Pompey's pillar, a fine granite column 67ft. high and 9ft. thick, all of one stone. However it was raised is a mystery. It stands on an elevation surrounded by low mounds, and close beside it is the Arab cemetery, which is, of all such places, the most wretched. The bodies are buried without coffins, and only a little distance below the ground. A rough tomb is then raised over the grave, and two stones laid on — one to invoke the good angel, and the other to propitiate the evil angel. This being Thursday afternoon, numbers of Mohammedan women were visiting the tombs of their departed friends. The Mahmoudieh Canal, along which we next drove, was made to transport merchandise to the sea. It taps the Nile forty miles up, and the water looks very muddy. c We visited one of the gardens of the Khedive, and were all struck with the beauty of the vegetation.

The sides of the palace and outbuildings are covered with purple and scarlet flowers in great profusion. There are fine kitchen gardens attached, and large vineyards and orange groves. The vines are each growing separately, and planted in lines, while the water is drawn from wells, and then conducted along channels to irrigate the land. The soil looks dry and parched, though watered twice a week. We ascended a mound, and got a bird's eye view of the sur rounding country, and then returned to the hotel. In the evening we took a stroll when all was quiet, to see the people. We perceived no drunkenness among the natives, but were pained to see one of our soldiers being led home drunk by a comrade, amid the jeers of the people. The next day we drove to the station en route for Cairo, as travellers as a rule do not stay long in Alexandria.