Extract from: Eothen, or, Traces of Travel Brought Home from
the East by Kinglake by A. W. Kinglake. First
published in 1844
The pilgrims
begin to arrive in Palestine some weeks before the Easter festival of the Greek
Church. They come from Egypt, from all parts of Syria, from Armenia and Asia
Minor, from Stamboul, from Roumelia, from the provinces of the Danube, and from
all the Russias. Most of these people bring with them some articles of
merchandise, but I myself believe (notwithstanding the common taunt against
pilgrims) that they do this rather as a mode of paying the expenses of their
journey, than from a spirit of mercenary speculation. They generally travel in
families, for the women are of course more ardent than their husbands in
undertaking these pious enterprises, and they take care to bring with them all
their children, however young; for the efficacy of the rites does not depend
upon the age of the votary, so that people whose careful mothers have obtained
for them the benefit of the pilgrimage in early life, are saved from the
expense and trouble of undertaking the journey at a later age. The superior
veneration so often excited by objects that are distant and unknown shows not
perhaps the wrongheadedness of a man, but rather the transcendent power of his
imagination. However this may be, and whether it is by mere obstinacy that they
poke their way through intervening distance, or whether they come by the winged
strength of fancy, quite certainly the pilgrims who flock to Palestine from the
most remote homes are the people most eager in the enterprise, and in number
too they bear a very high proportion to the whole mass.
The great bulk of
the pilgrims make their way by sea to the port of Jaffa. A number of families
will charter a vessel amongst them, all bringing their own provisions, which
are of the simplest and cheapest kind. On board every vessel thus freighted
there is, I believe, a priest, who helps the people in their religious
exercises, and tries (and fails) to maintain something like order and harmony.
The vessels employed in this service are usually Greek brigs or brigantines and
schooners, and the number of passengers stowed in them is almost always
horribly excessive. The voyages are sadly protracted, not only by the
land-seeking, storm-flying habits of the Greek seamen, but also by their
endless schemes and speculations, which are for ever tempting them to touch at
the nearest port. The voyage too must be made in winter, in order that
Jerusalem may be reached some weeks before the Greek Easter, and thus by the
time they attain to the holy shrines the pilgrims have really and truly
undergone a very respectable quantity of suffering. I once saw one of these pious
cargoes put ashore on the coast of Cyprus, where they had touched for the
purpose of visiting (not Paphos, but) some Christian sanctuary. I never saw
(no, never even in the most horridly stuffy ballroom) such a discomfortable
collection of human beings. Long huddled together in a pitching and rolling
prison, fed on beans, exposed to some real danger and to terrors without end,
they had been tumbled about for many wintry weeks in the chopping seas of the
Mediterranean. As soon as they landed they stood upon the beach and chanted a
hymn of thanks; the chant was morne and doleful, but really the poor people
were looking so miserable, that one could not fairly expect from them any
lively outpouring of gratitude.
When the pilgrims
have landed at Jaffa they hire camels, horses, mules, or donkeys, and make
their way as well as they can to the Holy City. The space fronting the Church
of the Holy Sepulchre soon becomes a kind of bazaar, or rather, perhaps,
reminds you of an English fair. On this spot the pilgrims display their
merchandise, and there too the trading residents of the place offer their goods
for sale. I have never, I think, seen elsewhere in Asia so much commercial
animation as upon this square of ground by the church door; the “money-changers”
seemed to be almost as brisk and lively as if they had been within the
temple.
When I entered
the church I found a babel of worshippers. Greek, Roman, and Armenian priests
were performing their different rites in various nooks and corners, and crowds
of disciples were rushing about in all directions, some laughing and talking,
some begging, but most of them going round in a regular and methodical way to
kiss the sanctified spots, and speak the appointed syllables, and lay down the
accustomed coin. If this kissing of the shrines had seemed as though it were
done at the bidding of enthusiasm, or of any poor sentiment even feebly
approaching to it, the sight would have been less odd to English eyes; but as
it was, I stared to see grown men thus steadily and carefully embracing the
sticks and the stones, not from love or from zeal (else God forbid that I
should have stared!), but from a calm sense of duty; they seemed to be not
“working out,” but transacting the great business of salvation.
Dthemetri,
however, who generally came with me when I went out, in order to do duty as
interpreter, really had in him some enthusiasm. He was a zealous and almost
fanatical member of the Greek Church, and had long since performed the
pilgrimage, so now great indeed was the pride and delight with which he guided
me from one holy spot to another. Every now and then, when he came to an
unoccupied shrine, he fell down on his knees and performed devotion; he was
almost distracted by the temptations that surrounded him; there were so many
stones absolutely requiring to be kissed, that he rushed about happily puzzled
and sweetly teased, like “Jack among the maidens.”
A Protestant,
familiar with the Holy Scriptures, but ignorant of tradition and the geography
of modern Jerusalem, finds himself a good deal “mazed” when he first looks for
the sacred sites. The Holy Sepulchre is not in a field without the walls, but
in the midst, and in the best part of the town, under the roof of the great
church which I have been talking about. It is a handsome tomb of oblong form,
partly subterranean and partly above ground, and closed in on all sides except
the one by which it is entered. You descend into the interior by a few steps,
and there find an altar with burning tapers. This is the spot which is held in
greater sanctity than any other at Jerusalem. When you have seen enough of it
you feel perhaps weary of the busy crowd, and inclined for a gallop; you ask
your dragoman whether there will be time before sunset to procure horses and
take a ride to Mount Calvary. Mount Calvary, signor?—eccolo! it is upstairs—on
the first floor. In effect you ascend, if I remember rightly, just thirteen
steps, and then you are shown the now golden sockets in which the crosses of
our Lord and the two thieves were fixed. All this is startling, but the truth
is, that the city having gathered round the Sepulchre, which is the main point
of interest, has crept northward, and thus in great measure are occasioned the
many geographical surprises that puzzle the “Bible Christian.”
The Church of the
Holy Sepulchre comprises very compendiously almost all the spots associated
with the closing career of our Lord. Just there, on your right, He stood and
wept; by the pillar, on your left, He was scourged; on the spot, just before
you, He was crowned with the crown of thorns; up there He was crucified, and
down here He was buried. A locality is assigned to every, the minutest, event
connected with the recorded history of our Saviour; even the spot where the
cock crew when Peter denied his Master is ascertained, and surrounded by the
walls of an Armenian convent. Many Protestants are wont to treat these
traditions contemptuously, and those who distinguish themselves from their
brethren by the appellation of “Bible Christians” are almost fierce in their
denunciation of these supposed errors.
It is admitted, I
believe, by everybody that the formal sanctification of these spots was the act
of the Empress Helena, the mother of Constantine, but I think it is fair to
suppose that she was guided by a careful regard to the then prevailing
traditions. Now the nature of the ground upon which Jerusalem stands is such,
that the localities belonging to the events there enacted might have been more
easily, and permanently, ascertained by tradition than those of any city that I
know of. Jerusalem, whether ancient or modern, was built upon and surrounded by
sharp, salient rocks intersected by deep ravines. Up to the time of the siege
Mount Calvary of course must have been well enough known to the people of
Jerusalem; the destruction of the mere buildings could not have obliterated
from any man’s memory the names of those steep rocks and narrow ravines in the
midst of which the city had stood. It seems to me, therefore, highly probable
that in fixing the site of Calvary the Empress was rightly guided. Recollect,
too, that the voice of tradition at Jerusalem is quite unanimous, and that
Romans, Greeks, Armenians, and Jews, all hating each other sincerely, concur in
assigning the same localities to the events told in the Gospel. I concede,
however, that the attempt of the Empress to ascertain the sites of the minor
events cannot be safely relied upon. With respect, for instance, to the
certainty of the spot where the cock crew, I am far from being convinced.
Supposing that
the Empress acted arbitrarily in fixing the holy sites, it would seem that she
followed the Gospel of St. John, and that the geography sanctioned by her can
be more easily reconciled with that history than with the accounts of the other
Evangelists.
The authority
exercised by the Mussulman Government in relation to the holy sites is in one
view somewhat humbling to the Christians, for it is almost as an arbitrator
between the contending sects (this always, of course, for the sake of pecuniary
advantage) that the Mussulman lends his contemptuous aid; he not only grants,
but enforces toleration. All persons, of whatever religion, are allowed to go
as they will into every part of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, but in order
to prevent indecent contests, and also from motives arising out of money
payments, the Turkish Government assigns the peculiar care of each sacred spot
to one of the ecclesiastic bodies. Since this guardianship carries with it the
receipt of the coins which the pilgrims leave upon the shrines, it is
strenuously fought for by all the rival Churches, and the artifices of intrigue
are busily exerted at Stamboul in order to procure the issue or revocation of
the firmans by which the coveted privilege is granted. In this strife the Greek
Church has of late years signally triumphed, and the most famous of the shrines
are committed to the care of their priesthood. They possess the golden socket
in which stood the cross of our Lord whilst the Latins are obliged to content
themselves with the apertures in which were inserted the crosses of the two
thieves. They are naturally discontented with that poor privilege, and
sorrowfully look back to the days of their former glory—the days when Napoleon
was Emperor, and Sebastiani ambassador at the Porte. It seems that the
“citizen” sultan, old Louis Philippe, has done very little indeed for Holy
Church in Palestine.
Although the
pilgrims perform their devotions at the several shrines with so little apparent
enthusiasm, they are driven to the verge of madness by the miracle displayed
before them on Easter Saturday. Then it is that the Heaven-sent fire issues
from the Holy Sepulchre. The pilgrims all assemble in the great church, and
already, long before the wonder is worked, they are wrought by anticipation of
God’s sign, as well as by their struggles for room and breathing space, to a
most frightful state of excitement. At length the chief priest of the Greeks,
accompanied (of all people in the world) by the Turkish Governor, enters the
tomb. After this, there is a long pause, and then suddenly from out of the
small apertures on either side of the sepulchre there issue long, shining
flames. The pilgrims now rush forward, madly struggling to light their tapers
at the holy fire. This is the dangerous moment, and many lives are often lost.
The year before
that of my going to Jerusalem, Ibrahim Pasha, from some whim, or motive of
policy, chose to witness the miracle. The vast church was of course thronged,
as it always is on that awful day. It seems that the appearance of the fire was
delayed for a very long time, and that the growing frenzy of the people was
heightened by suspense. Many, too, had already sunk under the effect of the
heat and the stifling atmosphere, when at last the fire flashed from the
sepulchre. Then a terrible struggle ensued; many sunk and were crushed. Ibrahim
had taken his station in one of the galleries, but now, feeling perhaps his
brave blood warmed by the sight and sound of such strife, he took upon himself
to quiet the people by his personal presence, and descended into the body of
the church with only a few guards. He had forced his way into the midst of the
dense crowd, when unhappily he fainted away; his guards shrieked out, and the
event instantly became known. A body of soldiers recklessly forced their way
through the crowd, trampling over every obstacle that they might save the life
of their general. Nearly two hundred people were killed in the struggle.
The following
year, however, the Government took better measures for the prevention of these
calamities. I was not present at the ceremony, having gone away from Jerusalem
some time before, but I afterwards returned into Palestine, and I then learned
that the day had passed off without any disturbance of a fatal kind. It is,
however, almost too much to expect that so many ministers of peace can assemble
without finding some occasion for strife, and in that year a tribe of wild
Bedouins became the subject of discord. These men, it seems, led an Arab life
in some of the desert tracts bordering on the neighbourhood of Jerusalem, but
were not connected with any of the great ruling tribes. Some whim or notion of
policy had induced them to embrace Christianity; but they were grossly ignorant
of the rudiments of their adopted faith, and having no priest with them in
their desert, they had as little knowledge of religious ceremonies as of
religion itself. They were not even capable of conducting themselves in a place
of worship with ordinary decorum, but would interrupt the service with
scandalous cries and warlike shouts. Such is the account the Latins give of
them, but I have never heard the other side of the question. These wild
fellows, notwithstanding their entire ignorance of all religion, are yet
claimed by the Greeks, not only as proselytes who have embraced Christianity
generally, but as converts to the particular doctrines and practice of their
Church. The people thus alleged to have concurred in the great schism of the
Eastern Empire are never, I believe, within the walls of a church, or even of
any building at all, except upon this occasion of Easter; and as they then
never fail to find a row of some kind going on by the side of the sepulchre,
they fancy, it seems, that the ceremonies there enacted are funeral games of a
martial character, held in honour of a deceased chieftain, and that a Christian
festival is a peculiar kind of battle, fought between walls, and without
cavalry. It does not appear, however, that these men are guilty of any
ferocious acts, or that they attempt to commit depredations. The charge against
them is merely that by their way of applauding the performance, by their
horrible cries and frightful gestures, they destroy the solemnity of divine
service, and upon this ground the Franciscans obtained a firman for the exclusion
of such tumultuous worshippers. The Greeks, however, did not choose to lose the
aid of their wild converts merely because they were a little backward in their
religious education, and they therefore persuaded them to defy the firman by
entering the city en masse and overawing their enemies. The Franciscans,
as well as the Government authorities, were obliged to give way, and the Arabs
triumphantly marched into the church. The festival, however, must have seemed
to them rather flat, for although there may have been some “casualties” in the
way of eyes black and noses bloody, and women “missing,” there was no return of
“killed.”
Formerly the
Latin Catholics concurred in acknowledging (but not, I hope, in working) the
annual miracle of the heavenly fire, but they have for many years withdrawn
their countenance from this exhibition, and they now repudiate it as a trick of
the Greek Church. Thus of course the violence of feeling with which the rival
Churches meet at the Holy Sepulchre on Easter Saturday is greatly increased,
and a disturbance of some kind is certain. In the year I speak of, though no
lives were lost, there was, as it seems, a tough struggle in the church. I was
amused at hearing of a taunt that was thrown that day upon an English
traveller. He had taken his station in a convenient part of the church, and was
no doubt displaying that peculiar air of serenity and gratification with which
an English gentleman usually looks on at a row, when one of the Franciscans
came by, all reeking from the fight, and was so disgusted at the coolness and
placid contentment of the Englishman (who was a guest at the convent), that he
forgot his monkish humility as well as the duties of hospitality, and plainly
said, “You sleep under our roof, you eat our bread, you drink our wine, and
then when Easter Saturday comes you don’t fight for us!”
Yet these rival
Churches go on quietly enough till their blood is up. The terms on which they
live remind one of the peculiar relation subsisting at Cambridge between “town
and gown.”
These contests
and disturbances certainly do not originate with the lay-pilgrims, the great
body of whom are, as I believe, quiet and inoffensive people. It is true,
however, that their pious enterprise is believed by them to operate as a
counterpoise for a multitude of sins, whether past or future, and perhaps they
exert themselves in after life to restore the balance of good and evil. The
Turks have a maxim which, like most cynical apophthegms, carries with it the
buzzing trumpet of falsehood as well as the small, fine “sting of truth.” “If
your friend has made the pilgrimage once, distrust him; if he has made the
pilgrimage twice, cut him dead!” The caution is said to be as applicable to the
visitants of Jerusalem as to those of Mecca, but I cannot help believing that
the frailties of all the hadjis,* whether Christian or
Mahometan, are greatly exaggerated. I certainly regarded the pilgrims to
Palestine as a well-disposed orderly body of people, not strongly enthusiastic,
but desirous to comply with the ordinances of their religion, and to attain the
great end of salvation as quietly and economically as possible.
When the
solemnities of Easter are concluded the pilgrims move off in a body to complete
their good work by visiting the sacred scenes in the neighbourhood of
Jerusalem, including the wilderness of John the Baptist, Bethlehem, and above
all, the Jordan, for to bathe in those sacred waters is one of the chief objects
of the expedition. All the pilgrims—men, women, and children—are submerged en
chemise, and the saturated linen is carefully wrapped up and preserved as a
burial-dress that shall enure for salvation in the realms of death.
* Hadj a
pilgrim.
