The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1877-03-17

1t is from the summit of the Mount of
Olives that the familiar and most i'm
pressve view of the Holy City is OBJ
tanned. Not only is the panorama of
Jerusalem singularly beautiful, but the
eve roams over hill and dale to the edge
of the wide horizon and rests at last in
the deep, dark valley of Sodom, where
the Dead Sea lies like sheet of molten
lead nearly 1000 feet below the crest of
Olivet. Whatever may be said of the
shrines in and about Zion-perhaps there
is not one of the thousand whose iden-
tity is established beyond question
there can be no shadow of doubt thrown
upon the traditions of this holy hill.
Leaving the veritablc Rock of the As
cension out of the argument, and ignor-
ing the footprint" of Christ altogether,
the fact remains that there stands Jeru-
salem, or what is left of it, and here is
Olivet separated from the temple plat
form by the Valley of Jehosaphat.
Here He stood and gazed upon the city
He loved; He wept over it when He
thought on the fall thereof. On the
summit of Olivet stands clumsy and
irregular building, half church, half
mosque, all that is left of the work be-
gun by Constantine and continued by
the Crusaders. We knock at a gate in
the outer wall of the court. A Moham-
medan admits US. A small, bare chapel
stands in the center of the court. The
chapel, which covers a naked rock worn
smooth by the lips of millions of pill
grims, is the property of the Mohamme-
dams, who permit the Christians to cele-
brate mass in it on certain days. The
Armenians, Copts, Syrians and Greeks
have each their own corner for prayer.
A door in the court opens into "a house
of dervishes which occupies the site of a
former Augustinian abbey. The minaret
of this Mohammedan convent is the only
tower on Olivet. From it the eyes are
led away by the splendor and variety of
the landscape, lit as it is by sharp bursts
of sunshine, or yelled by the brisk
showers that are continually trailing
across the hills.
Just below the brow of Olivet, on the
slope toward the valley of the Jordan, is
hidden the village of Bethany. Not a
point of land, not shadowy depression
but is the site of some event in sacred
history, the very mention of which is
sure to recall the first thrills of delight,
not unmiXed with awe, with which you
were wont to listen in childhood, for
that was long before they had grown IA
miliar and commonplace. A few tents
are usually pitched upon the slopes of
Olivet during the season of the pilgrim
ages. Olive, fig, and CARGO trees are
scattered over the mountain; few april
cot, almond, terebinth, and hawthorn
trees have struck root in the stony soil.
The place is all open; one rides at will
in the road or across the fields; plucks
sprigs from the olives, that are for the
most part within reach from the saddle.
Groups of native women gather under
the trees and spend the afternoon in
maybe gossip. Children play games -
they are never noisy ones in this sad and
sacred land. Many of them have with
them pet lambs with their wool dyed
scarlet and yellow and blue in honor of
Easter. Pilgrims, caravans, and Turk
ish soldiers with wild, discordant music
pass over the roads that girdle the
mountains. Many a nargileh is burned
in peace within the shadows of the
olives in the mountains by the Place of
Weeping" or the scene of the Sermon
on the Mount and the convent that marks
the spot where the Lord taught His
prayer to the Disciples. A spell seems
to brood over the city-it is never for
toln . H.
sunshine only deepens the gray shadows
that hang under the walls. There is O.
lack of color, a want of vitality, drow-
siness of spirit noticeable everywhere.
There is no JOY in the laugh of the peo-
pie, if, indeed, they ever laugh; no
sparkle in their wit, no buoyancy in
their step. The hush of an eternal
Sabbath" broods over the city, and all
the splendor of Oriental pageant is not
able to give life or color to it. The
poetry has died out of 1t; so has the
charity that was first taught there. |
would as soon think of joking at a fu-
neral as trying to be decently cheerful
in Jerusalem. David exalted it, Nehemiah
mourned over it, Titus was concerned
about ii, the Saracens took pride therein,
and it inspired the enthusiasm of the
Crusaders; but believe not soul comes
to it now without suffering severe dis.
appointment, or quits it without uttering
sigh of relief. He will remember it all
the days of his life and be glad that his
pilgrimage is over, and point with pride
to the crucitiX or Madonna, or crest or
monogram, branded in his arm as an
everlasting token of his hardship-he is
worthy of the title of hadji now-but he
will also remember how he sat alone on
the slopes of Olivet, over against the
city, and could think of nothing more
cheerful than these lines of the glorious
song:
Jerusalem, Jerusalem,
Enthroned once on high,
Thou favored home of God on earth,
Thou heaven below the sky:
Now brought to bondage with thy sons,
A curse and grief to see,
Jerusalem, Jerusalem,
Our tears shall flow for thee.
Charles Warren StOdddrd.