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that country's atmosphere and seeming to savor of it; and yet, with strong sympathies for home, while Mr. Dixon sits within his tent or his khan and writes of his wayfaring, or discusses the many momentous questions connected with the past, the present, and the future of the Holy Land.
Thoughts of home, and memories of home, and comparisons of men and things and places here, with men and things and places at home, seem to come upon all wayfarers through the havoc and the beauty of this ancient land. When Dr. Richardson was riding from Ramla to Jerusalem, the features of the country, he says, brought strongly to his recollection, the ride from Sanquhar to Lead Hills, in Scotland. The Scottish doctor, of course, thinks that the hillsof Judea have rather the worse side of this comparison! In some view, with a certain difference, it is the same with Mr. Dixon. It is'natural enough that a sudden sight of the "dear domestic sea" should bring to him "delicious dream of home." A traveler from the Rhine, coming in sight of Kulonich, would at least find in it an echo of his own Koln, another Roman built "Colonia," on the distant river. When Mr. Dixon was on the same road as Dr. Richardson; his comparison of the scenery was not made with Scotland*. "Tffe tropical vegetation of the plain," he says, as he ascends, "near Ramla and Modin, has given place to a flora more homely and familiar in our eyes ; a flora in which the holm-oak, arbutus, thorn and holly, sweep you back, in fancy, to the mountains of Killarney and South Wales." Even when speaking of the marauding tribes of the Syrian Desert, the author compares them with old tribes in the old native home. "^Every year," he writes, "the harvests of Sharon, Shefelah, Esdraelon, tempt these marauders from beyond Jordan, just as the harvests of Kent and Mercia used to bait the Saxon vikings and the Danish jarls." Above white-walled and towered Acre, stands the bold headland of Cape Blanco, in which Mr. Dixon sees a "Syrian imitation of Dover Cliff." Elsewhere, he rides over a soil which reminds him of that of a Suffolk field. If not of England, itis of European scenes through which he has traveled that he is reminded. In the province
of Galilee, he sees repeated the woods of Lucca, the vine slopes of Xeres, the hills of Loja, the graped terraces of the Rhine; and among the softly-rounded hills, clothed to their summits with vineyards, he is as much at home as if he were at Heidelberg and Ulm. The proud race of horsemen and spearmen, whose cities
: were Tyre and Sidon, are the English of
'antiquity. After gazing on the length and breadth of the Wilderness, where the Baptist dwelt and the Messiah prayed, which spreads from Jerusalem and Hebron, and from the hills of Judah to the shores of the Dead Sea, he thinks of home, and says: "It is a tract of country about the size and shape of Sussex." And, as the figure of the pretentious Pharisee rises before him, with the broad red stripe on his mantle, broader than any stripe worn by the Pharisee's fellowJew, to distinguish him from Arab and Greek, Mr. Dixon looks homeward for a parallel, and we learn that the Pharisee made of his ostentatious red stripe, "what an Irish Celt makes of his green ribbon, a pious and a seditious badge "— the Pharisee claiming to excel all others in purity of faith and in hatred to the Romans who were masters in Jerusalem. But, it is not only in places and classes
1 that Mr. Dixon is constantly reminded of home, but in individuals. When describing, most pleasantly and powerfully, that sect of the Essenes who carried their observance of the Sabbath to limits even beyond those he has narrated, Mr. Dixon
| remarks, "Herod the Great had given his favor to those harmless breeders of
j bees and birds, and Menarhem, one of their chiefs, had exercised a merciful influence in the tyrant's court." A reader, with a good memory, will perhaps smile, not unapprovingly, at Mr. Dixon's comment on his own text. "Menarhem was a Jewish William Penn." But it is rather in reference to places than personages that the traveler's heart or memory seeks
j illustrations from home. Nothing could be more natural than to connect Golgo
! tha with Tyburn; nothing more graphic
j than the description which warrants the simile. On the mound, called by interpretation, Skull Place, "thieves, assassins, pirates, heretics, traitors, teachers of falsehood—men the most odious in Jewish eyes, were put to a shameful and cruel death, being nailed by the hands and feet to a wooden cross, and left in the burning sun to die." It is pleasant to turn from this to another locality which Mr. Dixon compares with one at hbme. The former is the rose garden mentioned in the Mishna, in which figs might be sold untolled, and which, our author (after stating that Jewish gardens were never connected with the houses of the proprietors, but were beyond the walls) conjectures to have been "probably a sook or market in Jerusalem, like Covent Garden in London." The space occupied by the Temple platform, the Haram es Sherey, or sacred enclosure, is clearly represente'd to an English reader's comprehension in the words—" The Haram is about the size of •St. James's Park, within the rails." Again, would you grasp at once the distance between Jerusalem and Nazareth, it is as a bird would fly, "about sixtyfour miles, being nearly the same as that from Oxford to London." But, "by the camel paths, and now there are no other, it is eighty miles."
In tracing how the lawful traffic in doves, sheep, and sacred shekels, crept from the external market-place into the very courts of the Temple, whence the dealers and money-changers were driven by Jesus, Mr. Dixon remarks that "a thing for sale runs after the buyer;" and he finds a very happy illustration of the encroachment on what is sacred by what is secular, in the metropolitan cathedral of St. Paul*s, where the traffic crept from the church-yard, which was a marketplace, into the church, where "the main ailse became an open market, having goldsmiths' benches and hucksters' stalls, with mercer's bills on the columns, a crowd of people chaffering with cheapjacks, and a litter of lap-dogs and poultry on the floor for sale."
Again, when standing in sight of Gorizim, and re-casting the feud of the pagan Jew of Samaria, with the orthodox Jew of Mount Zion; of the rejection of the former as Jews, at all, by the High Priests, who forbade them entering the Temple courts; and of the building of a new temple on Gorizim, the traveler's thoughts again turn homeward for an illustration, and he tells us that "from that time forward the feuds of
Shechem and Moriah became hot as those between Rome and London after the bull of Paul the Third and the consolidation of the English Church." Mr. Dixon even thinks that a history of the religious antagonism between Rome and London in the darkest periods would reflect much of that between Zion and Shechem. "Like the anathema launched against England, from the steps of St. Peter's, a public curse was thundered against Gorizim from the Temple stairs." The same spirit influences him when dealing with nature alone, and not with man, by whose passions the beauty of that nature has been outraged. His description of the Sea of Genesareth is a true and masterly picture executed in word painting. Under his hand the beautiful lake, the canopy of cloud and sky, the light in which it lived, the shade in which it lay, the life that was on its waters, the other life that was on its shores, the glorious hills, the majestic rocks, the busy towns, the nestling hamlets, brings the old scene into new life, and Mr. Dixon gives the last touch to his picture, by saying: "On the Galilean bank the bright little towns and villages crowded upon each other, as in our own day villas and hamlets sparkle around the shores of Como and Geneva."
Here Antipas Herod erected that gorgeous city of Tiberias, which gave a new name to the lake or sea. On the beach of Genesareth, at Capernaum, St. John, when a child, may have played with his father's nets. Before he had composed his Gospel the lake had lost its ancient name in that of Tiberias, the name of the great city. "Tiberias had given its name to the waters on which it stood," says Mr. Dixon, as he looks on or remembers those waters, "like Geneva to Lake Leman, and Lucerne to that of the Four Cantons."
In sight of this once mighty Tiberias, the author thus addresses his readers with true eloquence and powerful effect:
"In the eyes of a Jew that city of Tiberias, bright as it may have seemed in a Roman's eyes, would be judged impure, not only by the Oral but by the Mosaic law. In laying out his ground, the Tetrarch had been forced to plant some of his streets among ancient graves. To what people these graves had belonged no man could tell; but to disturb the rock in which they had been dug by forgotten owners was an offence of which no Jew could have been guilty, not because, like a Frank, lie would have thought the ground holy, but because, like an Oriental, he would have considered it polluted and accursed. Of all the evil things in this evil world, none was so repulsive to a Jew as death. No symbol of a broken shaft, of an extinguished torch—no imagery of a fading flower, of a sleeping child, made the thought of death beautiful and tender in a Syrian's mind. To a Hebrew the symbol of Death was that of a figure laying a snare or presenting a cup of poison to- the lips. Abraham longed to get rid of Sarah's corpse—let me bury my dead out of my sight. A grave is never in the East a sacred thing, and the dead are never deposited in holy ground. Among the Jews a dead body was to be cast out from the city gates, far from the Temple, far from the synagogue, out into the dismal ravines, among the haunts of hyenas and savage curs. No tree, no flower, was planted over a Jewish grave: and a hole in a rock was all that was given to the greatest king. The foulest term in a language rich in powers of abuse was that of death, and the darkest spirit was appeased by calling his enemy a sepulchre and a whited wall."
Subsequently, when dealing with the expenses of traveling in the East, Mr. Dixon remarks that "a month at Mar Elias will waste your means, like a month at Brighton, and a sojourn with the Armenian Fathers, on Mount Zion, is no less costly than a residence at Long's."
As it is more pleasant to record good traits, even of infidels, than to count their failings, let us note some of the evidences to character adduced by Mr. Dixon, and which we might employ to our profit as well as our edification. "In every part of the East, among every class of people, a man is tender to his horse, his camel, and his ass, beyond the usage of any Christian land. In Syria, a man's beast is a member of his family, to be cherished and loved, in its degree, as a creature given into his care by God." The excessive oriental tenderness which founds an asylum for aged cats is not without imitation in our own Christian land. In some individuals the commonest virtue is allowed to run into a seed of vice. Character is to be judged of from the general features. A Turk will go out of his way rather than dis
j turb a sleeping dog. "If you see a man striking a dog in Cairo or Stamboul, you may be sure he is a Frank." The Moslem gentlemen of Jaffa who built a 1 wooden pier, in order that the Prince of Wales might be able to land from the gig of a man-of-war, performed an act of most delicate courtesy. After it had thus served he chopped it into splinters, "and gave the wood to the poor. This was an act of useful charity. In Frangistan, the wood, most probably, would have been sold. Again, when the wild Anezi informed our traveler and his compar.ions in the wilderness that Hebron had revolted from the Turks, and that all the'tribes beyond Jordan were in arms, they made their salaam, and rode away into the night.
"Have they told us the truth, Yakoob1?" asked Mr. Dixon, when they had gone.
"The truth, master?" says Yakoob, with scorn; their religion will not suffer them to lie!"
The Englishman is at disadvantage with these Orientals in another respect. The latter express their faith, even in a common salutation, and are, of course, proud of the expression conveyed under the salute. Moslem salutes Moslem, his equal, with Salaamaleicum/ "Peace be with you!" Eastern Christians, in salutation, make the sign of the Cross. This form might be open to abuse, but Mr. Dixon says that "this salutation is made with singular grace, even by the beggar in his rags." He adds that "in English traveler, making no sign of the Cross, when he greets a brother, is commonly supposed by the Syrians to be a Turk.
If the individual be thus ill-interpreted, so is the government as erroneously judged. Mr. Dixon learned many things relating thereto from an aged Sheikh, who bitterly remembered the Egyptian invasion of Syria, and all the calamities that fell in consequence on the inhabitants. The old Skeikh reasoned, after his fashion, from certain premises. The English cannonaded the Egyptians out of Syria. When the Latin Christians descended into the Libanon, English arms drove them away. It was England that drove the Russ back into his ice and snow. When, longer ago, the Franks under Bonaparte, were ravaging the land, England drove them into Egypt and the sea. England then was the best friend of the Arab and his Caliph; the Saxon and the Arab are brothers. "The English are white Moslems of a western sect." Thus are individuals and governments studied and misinterpreted by men whose perceptions are clear, but their conclusions rather obscured!
Again, if the wild Anezi refrain from lying, because their religion forbids it, there are equally wild Syrian Turks who avoid robbery under the same prohibition. "More than once," we are told, "when our tent had been pitched for the night near a well, among peasants and soldiers, Yakoob has replied to a caution about leaving such things on the mat as might tempt these natives to pilfer. 'Heugh! they are safe. Turk no take them, his religion not allow him to steal.'"
Cardinal Wiseman used to tell, with unctuous glee, the story of a Roman Catholic priest who, on the day of Saint Edward the Confessor, bad knelt at the shrine of the great king in Westminster Abbey, where, while engaged in prayer, he was disturbed by the remark of a verger, that "Nothin' o' that sort was allowed there!" No Arab would thus be disturbed in his mosque, which to him is a home. The street or road is his place of business or pleasure, the mosque is the place where he may wash in the ibuntain-court, rest in the inner shade, pray without interruption, and if he will,- "after finishing his devotions he may throw himself on the mats and sleep." But the utmost liberality of spirit in these western parts, and with their peculiar habits, would never lead a man to the idea of furnishing a fellowman with church accommodation to such an extent as this.
Among the good features in the Syrian character may be noticed not merely the recognition of family ties, however different may be the respective conditions of kinsmen, but the kindliness exercised by the better endowed towards the houseless. "When a house has two tiers, as in some parts of Jaffa, and in the crowded quarters of Zion, it will probably be found that one lodge had been raised on the
top of another." The house has not been raised a story for the convenience or gratification of the proprietor, it is a consequence of custom stronger than law, whereby a poor man who has no house of his own is permitted "to erect a cage on his neighbor's roof, to burrow or dive under his neighbor's floor, if he can only find his way into this lodging without passing through another man's gate."
Mr. Dixon has the triple faculty of acuteness in detecting character, generosity in interpreting it, and ability in giving it portraiture. There is a plump Cairene trader on board the boat that takes him to Jaffa, who has become rich enough to buy happiness in the shape of four wives, and whose jealousy of, and anxious tenderness over them, condemn him to wretchedness and slavery for ever. Again, one sees all the disadvantages of the dress of his Arab rowers thus described, as " clothed in a loose sack or shirt, perhaps bound at the waist, perhaps not, an easy inexpensive costume, apt to many uses, though inclined to misbehave itself, in English eyes, as a mere article of dress." The scene on board the steamer, when the sun is seen rising over the ridges of Ephraim, as the steamer sights Jaffa, is like an old etching by Callot, with so many words for so many strokes: "Priests, soldiers, laymen, pilgrims, are astir in the saloon, in the dim nooks of which a Turkish effeudi is kneeling at his prayers; a Moldavian nape is making love to a fair sinner; a French author appears to be copying facts from a French guide book into his own; and a Saxon seems bent on filching a pint of fresh water lor his difficult morning bath. Young men who have no time, to wash, having to land in less than five hours, are twisting cigarettes for the day. Young women are wisping up those hoops of steel which are soon to become a burden in the saddle, if not a danger in the fierce Syrian sun. Nearly all our guests of the cabin are roaring for their boots, their coat, their coffee, their pipes; but they are roaring to no end, for the steward of// Vaporeis—asleep." We have heard of pink parasols at the pyramids, advertisements of English tailors on the mausoleum of the Pharaohs, comic songs chanted at pic-nics in the tombs of the kings, and bitter beer in the Via Dolorosa; but they seem less out of place than crinoline abont to go up to Jerusalem! Solomon could say of his darling Shulamite:
"Thine head npon thee is like Carmel,
but a maid in steel hoops must have defied his powers of comparison. A nymph in crinoline would not suggest even "a wheat-sheaf set about with lilies." Jeremiah atone is equal to the task; the son of Hilkiah might say of her, as he said of Jerusalem, "Her filth is in her skirts!"
Then among "characters" belonging to the locality, few are more striking or amusing than the servant whom the traveler hires to be his master. Mr. Dixoii photographs Yakoob in masterly style. 'Yakoob waits on, guides, feeds, and enlightens Frank travelers, by profession; but he goes his own way, and works his own will. He is an Arab; a Christian of any Church it may please the traveler to be, but still a Christian from conviction that so to be saves him from conscription! He is made up of bully, sneak, and slave, the first predominating. The sneak is seen in the furtive way in which he practises the religious acts of the Prophet's creed, to which he belongs, or does not, for it is difficult to define him. He is a gatherer of disconnected lrities, as all his fathers have been; and he finds comfort in despoiling the victims who come to look upon the loveliness of the land, because, as he believes, all is unlovely in their own.
For the pure Arab race, generally, Mr. Dixon appears to have no small share of affection. He repeatedly refers to the horror they entertain for the shedding of blood; but he also relates the details of the murder of a Frank physician, within a stone's throw of one of the gates of Jerusalem, in the calm eveningtide. This act of violence seems to have been committed by the Ishmaelites; and we confess that we can see little difference between shooting a man outright before plundering him, and beating him before he is robbed, so as to leave no hope of his living after they have done with, and for him. The Arab, no doubt, has his virtues, with counterbalancing vices, just as the Holy City has its apparent decorum with the usual amount of Turkish sin which lies beneath the folds of that very
decorous appearance. "In a Moslem town," fays Mr. Dixon, "there are no plays, no concerts, no casinos, none of the impure public revelries which help to seduce the young in London. Paris, and New York. Bad men and worse women may exist in Zion, as in any other popu- . lous place; but here they have to hide their shameful trades, having no balls, no theatres, no taverns in which they can meet and decoy the unwary youth." Indeed there are no gaieties of the simplest sort abroad in Jerusalem, or even at home; for "no one gives dinners, scarcely any one plays whist." A Moslem seldom invites his friend to his house; and Franks do not seem the gayer when they ask a Frank "to sip acids and repeat to each other that there is still no news." There is something to the last degree "respectable" in the entertainments of the priestly gentlemen. "A Mollah will call some Sheikhs to his roof, where they will squat on clean carpets and recite their evening prayers. Refreshed with lemon juice, inspired by devotion, these sober revellers, each with his servant and his lantern, seek their homes and beds about the hour at which men in London are sitting down to dine." Such a banqueting would little suit either the clerical disposition or the clerical constitution in this country. Half adozen reverends and right reverends, quaffing sherbet and reciting the Litany on an episcopal roof-top in London, would be neither edifying to passers-by nor salubrious to themselves. They are not the less virtuous or exemplary for taking their wine beneath the portraits of their host's ancestors, and making suggestions slightly, satirical at the opinions of brethren who are with them generally in the faith, but at issue with them slightly on discipline. But majora canamus. Let us look at a picture of the Virgin, which the author limues with great power:
"Our western fancies," says Mr. Dixon, "working through an instinct of nature safer than half knowledge, have made of this simple life a pastoral full of grace and beauty. Hearing that the best years of her youth and womanhood had been spent before she yet knew grief on this sunny hill slope, her feet being for ever among the daisies, poppies, anemones which grow every where about; we have made her the patroness of all our flowers. The Virgin is our rose of Sharon, our lily of