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, {28} 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.
I saw the burial of a pilgrim. He was a Greek, miserably poor, and
very old; he had just crawled into the Holy City, and had reached
at once the goal of his pious journey and the end of his sufferings
upon earth. There was no coffin nor wrapper, and as I looked full
upon the face of the dead I saw how deeply it was rutted with the
ruts of age and misery. The priest, strong and portly, fresh, fat,
and alive with the life of the animal kingdom, unpaid, or ill paid
for his work, would scarcely deign to mutter out his forms, but
hurried over the words with shocking haste. Presently he called
out impatiently, "Yalla! Goor!" (Come! look sharp!), and then the
dead Greek was seized. His limbs yielded inertly to the rude men
that handled them, and down he went into his grave, so roughly
bundled in that his neck was twisted by the fall, so twisted, that
if the sharp malady of life were still upon him the old man would
have shrieked and groaned, and the lines of his face would have
quivered with pain. The lines of his face were not moved, and the
old man lay still and heedless, so well cured of that tedious life-
ache, that nothing could hurt him now. His clay was ITSELF AGAIN -
cool, firm, and tough. The pilgrim had found great rest. I threw
the accustomed handful of the holy soil upon his patient face, and
then, and in less than a minute, the earth closed coldly round him.
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