Sketches and Travels in London

by William Makepeace Thackeray

fumbling their perpetual beads. A party of Arab Christians have

  come up from their tents or villages: the men half-naked, looking

  as if they were beggars, or banditti, upon occasion; the women have

  flung their head-cloths back, and are looking at the strangers

  under their tattooed eyebrows. As for the strangers, there is no

  need to describe THEM: that figure of the Englishman, with his

  hands in his pockets, has been seen all the world over: staring

  down the crater of Vesuvius, or into a Hottentot kraal--or at a

  pyramid, or a Parisian coffee-house, or an Esquimaux hut--with the

  same insolent calmness of demeanour. When the gates of the church

  are open, he elbows in among the first, and flings a few scornful

  piastres to the Turkish door-keeper; and gazes round easily at the

  place, in which people of every other nation in the world are in

  tears, or in rapture, or wonder. He has never seen the place until

  now, and looks as indifferent as the Turkish guardian who sits in

  the doorway, and swears at the people as they pour in.

  Indeed, I believe it is impossible for us to comprehend the source

  and nature of the Roman Catholic devotion. I once went into a

  church at Rome at the request of a Catholic friend, who described

  the interior to be so beautiful and glorious, that he thought (he

  said) it must be like heaven itself. I found walls hung with cheap

  stripes of pink and white calico, altars covered with artificial

  flowers, a number of wax candles, and plenty of gilt-paper

  ornaments. The place seemed to me like a shabby theatre; and here

  was my friend on his knees at my side, plunged in a rapture of

  wonder and devotion.

  I could get no better impression out of this the most famous church

  in the world. The deceits are too open and flagrant; the

  inconsistencies and contrivances too monstrous. It is hard even to

  sympathise with persons who receive them as genuine; and though (as

  I know and saw in the case of my friend at Rome) the believer's

  life may be passed in the purest exercise of faith and charity, it

  is difficult even to give him credit for honesty, so barefaced seem

  the impostures which he professes to believe and reverence. It

  costs one no small effort even to admit the possibility of a

  Catholic's credulity: to share in his rapture and devotion is

  still further out of your power; and I could get from this church

  no other emotions but those of shame and pain.

  The legends with which the Greeks and Latins have garnished the

  spot have no more sacredness for you than the hideous, unreal,

  barbaric pictures and ornaments which they have lavished on it.

  Look at the fervour with which pilgrims kiss and weep over a tawdry

  Gothic painting, scarcely better fashioned than an idol in a South

  Sea Morai. The histories which they are called upon to reverence

  are of the same period and order,--savage Gothic caricatures. In

  either a saint appears in the costume of the middle ages, and is

  made to accommodate himself to the fashion of the tenth century.

  The different churches battle for the possession of the various

  relics. The Greeks show you the Tomb of Melchisedec, while the

  Armenians possess the Chapel of the Penitent Thief; the poor Copts

  (with their little cabin of a chapel) can yet boast of possessing

  the thicket in which Abraham caught the Ram, which was to serve as

  the vicar of Isaac; the Latins point out the Pillar to which the

  Lord was bound. The place of the Invention of the Sacred Cross,

  the Fissure in the Rock of Golgotha, the Tomb of Adam himself--are

  all here within a few yards' space. You mount a few steps, and are

  told it is Calvary upon which you stand. All this in the midst of

  blaring candles, reeking incense, savage pictures of Scripture

  story, or portraits of kings who have been benefactors to the

  various chapels; a din and clatter of strange people,--these

  weeping, bowing, kissing,--those utterly indifferent; and the

  priests clad in outlandish robes, snuffling and chanting

  incomprehensible litanies, robing, disrobing, lighting up candles

  or extinguishing them, advancing, retreating, bowing with all sorts

  of unfamiliar genuflexions. Had it pleased the inventors of the

  Sepulchre topography to have fixed on fifty more spots of ground as

  the places of the events of the sacred story, the pilgrim would

  have believed just as now. The priest's authority has so mastered

  his faith, that it accommodates itself to any demand upon it; and

  the English stranger looks on the scene, for the first time, with a

  feeling of scorn, bewilderment, and shame at that grovelling

  credulity, those strange rites and ceremonies, that almost

  confessed imposture.

  Jarred and distracted by these, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre,

  for some time, seems to an Englishman the least sacred spot about

  Jerusalem. It is the lies, and the legends, and the priests, and

  their quarrels, and their ceremonies, which keep the Holy Place out

  of sight. A man has not leisure to view it, for the brawling of

  the guardians of the spot. The Roman conquerors, they say, raised

  up a statue of Venus in this sacred place, intending to destroy all

  memory of it. I don't think the heathen was as criminal as the

  Christian is now. To deny and disbelieve, is not so bad as to make

  belief a ground to cheat upon. The liar Ananias perished for that;

  and yet out of these gates, where angels may have kept watch--out

  of the tomb of Christ--Christian priests issue with a lie in their

  hands. What a place to choose for imposture, good God! to sully

  with brutal struggles for self-aggrandisement or shameful schemes

  of gain!

  The situation of the Tomb (into which, be it authentic or not, no

  man can enter without a shock of breathless fear, and deep and

  awful self-humiliation) must have struck all travellers. It stands

  in the centre of the arched rotunda, which is common to all

  denominations, and from which branch off the various chapels

  belonging to each particular sect. In the Coptic chapel I saw one

  coal-black Copt, in blue robes, cowering in the little cabin,

  surrounded by dingy lamps, barbarous pictures, and cheap faded

  trumpery. In the Latin Church there was no service going on, only

  two fathers dusting the mouldy gewgaws along the brown walls, and

  laughing to one another. The gorgeous church of the Fire

  impostors, hard by, was always more fully attended; as was that of

  their wealthy neighbours, the Armenians. These three main sects

  hate each other; their quarrels are interminable; each bribes and

  intrigues with the heathen lords of the soil, to the prejudice of

  his neighbour. Now it is the Latins who interfere, and allow the

  common church to go to ruin, because the Greeks purpose to roof it;

  now the Greeks demolish a monastery on Mount Olivet, and leave the

  ground to the Turks, rather than allow the Armenians to possess it.

  On another occasion, the Greeks having mended the Armenian steps

  which lead to the (so-called) Cave of the Nativity at Bethlehem,

/>   the latter asked for permission to destroy the work of the Greeks,

  and did so. And so round this sacred spot, the centre of

  Christendom, the representatives of the three great sects worship

  under one roof, and hate each other!

  Above the Tomb of the Saviour, the cupola is OPEN, and you see the

  blue sky overhead. Which of the builders was it that had the grace

  to leave that under the high protection of Heaven, and not confine

  it under the mouldering old domes and roofs, which cover so much

  selfishness, and uncharitableness, and imposture?

  We went to Bethlehem, too; and saw the apocryphal wonders there.

  Five miles' ride brings you from Jerusalem to it, over naked wavy

  hills; the aspect of which, however, grows more cheerful as you

  approach the famous village. We passed the Convent of Mar Elyas on

  the road, walled and barred like a fort. In spite of its strength,

  however, it has more than once been stormed by the Arabs, and the

  luckless fathers within put to death. Hard by was Rebecca's Well:

  a dead body was lying there, and crowds of male and female mourners

  dancing and howling round it. Now and then a little troop of

  savage scowling horsemen--a shepherd driving his black sheep, his

  gun over his shoulder--a troop of camels--or of women, with long

  blue robes and white veils, bearing pitchers, and staring at the

  strangers with their great solemn eyes--or a company of labourers,

  with their donkeys, bearing grain or grapes to the city,--met us

  and enlivened the little ride. It was a busy and cheerful scene.

  The Church of the Nativity, with the adjoining convents, forms a

  vast and noble Christian structure. A party of travellers were

  going to the Jordan that day, and scores of their followers--of the

  robbing Arabs, who profess to protect them (magnificent figures

  some of them, with flowing haicks and turbans, with long guns and

  scimitars, and wretched horses, covered with gaudy trappings), were

  standing on the broad pavement before the little convent gate. It

  was such a scene as Cattermole might paint. Knights and Crusaders

  may have witnessed a similar one. You could fancy them issuing out

  of the narrow little portal, and so greeted by the swarms of

  swarthy clamorous women and merchants and children.

  The scene within the building was of the same Gothic character. We

  were entertained by the Superior of the Greek Convent, in a fine

  refectory, with ceremonies and hospitalities that pilgrims of the

  middle ages might have witnessed. We were shown over the

  magnificent Barbaric Church, visited of course the Grotto where the

  Blessed Nativity is said to have taken place, and the rest of the

  idols set up for worship by the clumsy legend. When the visit was

  concluded, the party going to the Dead Sea filed off with their

  armed attendants; each individual traveller making as brave a show

  as he could, and personally accoutred with warlike swords and

  pistols. The picturesque crowds, and the Arabs and the horsemen,

  in the sunshine; the noble old convent, and the grey-bearded

  priests, with their feast; and the church, and its pictures and

  columns, and incense; the wide brown hills spreading round the

  village; with the accidents of the road,--flocks and shepherds,

  wells and funerals, and camel-trains,--have left on my mind a

  brilliant, romantic, and cheerful picture. But you, dear M-,

  without visiting the place, have imagined one far finer; and

  Bethlehem, where the Holy Child was born, and the angels sang,

  "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace and goodwill

  towards men," is the most sacred and beautiful spot in the earth to

  you.

  By far the most comfortable quarters in Jerusalem are those of the

  Armenians, in their convent of St. James. Wherever we have been,

  these Eastern quakers look grave, and jolly, and sleek. Their

  convent at Mount Zion is big enough to contain two or three

  thousand of their faithful; and their church is ornamented by the

  most rich and hideous gifts ever devised by uncouth piety. Instead

  of a bell, the fat monks of the convent beat huge noises on a

  board, and drub the faithful in to prayers. I never saw men more

  lazy and rosy than these reverend fathers, kneeling in their

  comfortable matted church, or sitting in easy devotion. Pictures,

  images, gilding, tinsel, wax candles, twinkle all over the place;

  and ten thousand ostrichs' eggs (or any lesser number you may

  allot) dangle from the vaulted ceiling. There were great numbers

  of people at worship in this gorgeous church: they went on their

  knees, kissing the walls with much fervour, and paying reverence to

  the most precious relic of the convent,--the chair of St. James,

  their patron, the first Bishop of Jerusalem.

  The chair pointed out with greatest pride in the church of the

  Latin Convent, is that shabby red damask one appropriated to the

  French Consul,--the representative of the King of that nation,--and

  the protection which it has from time immemorial accorded to the

  Christians of the Latin rite in Syria. All French writers and

  travellers speak of this protection with delightful complacency.

  Consult the French books of travel on the subject, and any

  Frenchman whom you may meet: he says, "La France, Monsieur, de

  tous les temps protege les Chretiens d'Orient;" and the little

  fellow looks round the church with a sweep of the arm, and protects

  it accordingly. It is bon ton for them to go in processions; and

  you see them on such errands, marching with long candles, as

  gravely as may be. But I have never been able to edify myself with

  their devotion; and the religious outpourings of Lamartine and

  Chateaubriand, which we have all been reading a propos of the

  journey we are to make, have inspired me with an emotion anything

  but respectful. "Voyez comme M. de Chateaubriand prie Dieu," the

  Viscount's eloquence seems always to say. There is a sanctified

  grimace about the little French pilgrim which it is very difficult

  to contemplate gravely.

  The pictures, images, and ornaments of the principal Latin convent

  are quite mean and poor, compared to the wealth of the Armenians.

  The convent is spacious, but squalid. Many hopping and crawling

  plagues are said to attack the skins of pilgrims who sleep there.

  It is laid out in courts and galleries, the mouldy doors of which

  are decorated with twopenny pictures of favourite saints and

  martyrs; and so great is the shabbiness and laziness, that you

  might fancy yourself in a convent in Italy. Brown-clad fathers,

  dirty, bearded, and sallow, go gliding about the corridors. The

  relic manufactory before mentioned carries on a considerable

  business, and despatches bales of shells, crosses, and beads to

  believers in Europe. These constitute the chief revenue of the

  convent now. La France is no longer the most Christian kingdom,

  and her protection of the Latins is not good for much since Charles

  X. was expelled; and Spain, which used likewise to be generous on

  occasions (the gi
fts, arms, candlesticks, baldaquins of the Spanish

  sovereigns figure pretty frequently in the various Latin chapels),

  has been stingy since the late disturbances, the spoliation of the

  clergy, &c. After we had been taken to see the humble curiosities

  of the place, the Prior treated us in his wooden parlour with

  little glasses of pink Rosolio, brought with many bows and

  genuflexions by his reverence the convent butler.

  After this community of holy men, the most important perhaps is the

  American Convent, a Protestant congregation of Independents

  chiefly, who deliver tracts, propose to make converts, have

  meetings of their own, and also swell the little congregation that

  attends the Anglican service. I have mentioned our fellow-

  traveller, the Consul-General for Syria of the United States. He

  was a tradesman, who had made a considerable fortune, and lived at

  a country-house in comfortable retirement. But his opinion is,

  that the prophecies of Scripture are about to be accomplished; that

  the day of the return of the Jews is at hand, and the glorification

  of the restored Jerusalem. He is to witness this--he and a

  favourite dove with which he travels; and he forsook home and

  comfortable country-house, in order to make this journey. He has

  no other knowledge of Syria but what he derives from the prophecy;

  and this (as he takes the office gratis) has been considered a

  sufficient reason for his appointment by the United States

  Government. As soon as he arrived, he sent and demanded an

  interview with the Pasha; explained to him his interpretation of

  the Apocalypse, in which he has discovered that the Five Powers and

  America are about to intervene in Syrian affairs, and the

  infallible return of the Jews to Palestine. The news must have

  astonished the Lieutenant of the Sublime Porte; and since the days

  of the Kingdom of Munster, under his Anabaptist Majesty, John of

  Leyden, I doubt whether any Government has received or appointed so

  queer an ambassador. The kind, worthy, simple man took me to his

  temporary consulate-house at the American Missionary Establishment;

  and, under pretence of treating me to white wine, expounded his

  ideas; talked of futurity as he would about an article in The

  Times; and had no more doubt of seeing a divine kingdom established

  in Jerusalem than you that there would be a levee next spring at

  St. James's. The little room in which we sat was padded with

  missionary tracts, but I heard of scarce any converts--not more

  than are made by our own Episcopal establishment.

  But if the latter's religious victories are small, and very few

  people are induced by the American tracts, and the English

  preaching and catechising, to forsake their own manner of

  worshipping the Divine Being in order to follow ours; yet surely

  our religious colony of men and women can't fail to do good, by the

  sheer force of good example, pure life, and kind offices. The

  ladies of the mission have numbers of clients, of all persuasions,

  in the town, to whom they extend their charities. Each of their

  houses is a model of neatness, and a dispensary of gentle

  kindnesses; and the ecclesiastics have formed a modest centre of

  civilisation in the place. A dreary joke was made in the House of

  Commons about Bishop Alexander and the Bishopess his lady, and the

  Bishoplings his numerous children, who were said to have

  scandalised the people of Jerusalem. That sneer evidently came

  from the Latins and Greeks; for what could the Jews and Turks care

  because an English clergyman had a wife and children as their own

  priests have? There was no sort of ill will exhibited towards

  them, as far as I could learn; and I saw the Bishop's children

  riding about the town as safely as they could about Hyde Park. All

  Europeans, indeed, seemed to me to be received with forbearance,

  and almost courtesy, within the walls. As I was going about making

  sketches, the people would look on very good-humouredly, without

  offering the least interruption; nay, two or three were quite ready