The Families were the apex of Jerusalem society. The first municipal leader was a Dajani, and in 1867, Yusuf al-Diya al-Khalidi, aged twenty-five, became the first mayor of Jerusalem. Henceforth the post was always held by the Families – there would be six Husseinis, four Alamis, two Khalidis, three Dajanis. Khalidi, whose mother was a Husseini, had run away as a boy to attend Protestant school in Malta. Later he worked for the liberal grand vizier in Istanbul. He regarded himself first as an ‘Utsi’ – a Jerusalemite (he called Jerusalem his ‘homeland’) – second as an Arab (and a Shami, an inhabitant of Shams al-Bilad, greater Syria), third as an Ottoman. He was an intellectual, one of the stars of the nahda, the Arab literary renaissance that saw the opening of cultural clubs, newspapers and publishers.* Yet the first mayor discovered his was a fighting as well as municipal job: the governor despatched him with forty horsemen to suppress fighting at Kerak, perhaps the only mayor of modern history to lead a cavalry expedition.
The Families each had their own banners and their own special role in the city’s festivals. At the Holy Fire, the thirteen leading Arab Christian families paraded their banners but the Nabi Musa was the most popular festival. Thousands arrived on horseback and foot from all over Palestine to be greeted by the mufti, usually a Husseini, and the Ottoman governor. There was boisterous dancing and singing to cymbals and drums. Sufi dervishes whirled – ‘some ate live coals, others forced spikes through their cheeks’ and there were punch-ups between Jerusalemites and Nablusites. Jews and Christians were sometimes beaten up by over-excited Arab bravos. When the crowds had assembled on the Temple Mount, they were saluted by a cannonade and then the Husseinis on horseback, brandishing their own green banners, led the cavalcade towards Baibars’ shrine near Jericho. The Dajanis waved their own purple Banner of David’s Tomb. Yet the Families, each with their own dynastic domain – the Husseinis had the Temple Mount, the Khalidis the lawcourts, and they all competed for the mayoralty – were still struggling for supremacy and playing the perilous game of Istanbul politics.
The Orthodox Slavs of the Balkans, backed by Russia, wanted independence; the Ottoman empire struggled to survive. The accession of a new and more forceful sultan, Abdul-Hamid II, was marked by massacres of Bulgarian Christians. Under Russian pressure, Abdul-Hamid accepted a constitution and the election of a parliament: in Jerusalem, the Husseinis backed the old autocracy and the Khalidis were the new liberals. Mayor Khalidi was elected to represent Jerusalem and headed off to Istanbul, yet the constitution was a feint. Abdul-Hamid cancelled it and started to promote a new Ottoman nationalism combined with an pan-Islamic loyalty to the caliphate. This intelligent but neurotic sultan, diminutive with a bleating voice and a tendency to fainting-fits, enforced his rule with the Khafiya secret police who murdered his ex-grand vizier and one of his slavegirls amongst others. While he enjoyed the traditional privileges – his harem contained 900 odalisques – he lived in fear, checking under his bed for assassins each night, but he was also a skilled carpenter, a reader of Sherlock Holmes, and the impresario of his own theatre.
His crackdown was immediately felt in Jerusalem: Yusuf Khalidi was expelled from Istanbul, sacked as mayor and replaced by Umar al-Husseini. When the Khalidis were down, the Husseinis were up. Meanwhile, Russia prepared finally to destroy the Ottomans. The British prime minister, Benjamin Disraeli, intervened to save them.
JERUSALEM TATTOOS:
BRITISH PRINCES AND RUSSIAN GRAND DUKES
He had just bought the Suez Canal, borrowing £4 million from Lionel de Rothschild. ‘What is your security?’ asked Rothschild.
‘The British government,’ replied Disraeli’s secretary.
‘You shall have it.’ Now in 1878 at the Congress of Berlin, Disraeli guided the cabinets of Europe to curb Russia and enforce a settlement, in which Britain was able to occupy Cyprus. His performance was admired by the German chancellor Prince Bismarck, who pointing at Disraeli remarked, ‘The old Jew – he’s the man.’ The Ottomans had to give up much of their European, Christian territory and were forced to confirm the rights of Jews and other minorities. In 1882, the British took control of Egypt, which remained nominally under the Albanian dynasty. Two representatives of Britain’s forward position in the Middle East visited Jerusalem on their world tour: the young heirs to the British throne – Prince Albert Victor, known as Prince Eddy, the future Duke of Clarence, aged eighteen, and his brother George, aged sixteen, the future George V.*
They pitched their camp on the Mount of Olives, ‘the very same that Papa camped on,’ wrote Prince George, who thought it ‘a capital place’. The campboasted eleven luxurious tents, borne by ninety-five pack-animals and served by sixty servants – all marshalled by the king of travel agents, Thomas Cook, a Geordie Baptist minister who in 1869 had started a travel business conveying temperance campaigners from Leicester to Loughborough. Now Cook and his sons – one of whom accompanied the princes – were pioneers of the new tourism, hiring small armies of servants, guards and dragomans (translator-fixers) to protect against any attack by Bedouin or the Abu Ghosh clan, who still dominated the road from Jaffa and had to be either bribed or co-opted. These impresarios of travel laid out encampments of sumptuous silk tents, decorated in exotic reds and turquoise arabesques with dining rooms and receiving rooms, and even hot and cold water. The desired effect was to deliver an Oriental fantasy for the well-heeled English traveller – like something out of the Thousand and One Nights.
Thomas Cook’s offices were at the Jaffa Gate, which was the hub of a new tourist-friendly Jerusalem, symbolized by the opening of the Grand New Hotel, just over Bathsheba’s Pool, supposedly where Uriah’s wife was seen bathing by King David,† and Joachim Fast’s hotel just outside the gate. In 1892, the railway finally reached Jerusalem, truly opening up the city to tourism.
Photography developed alongside tourism. It was unexpected if fitting that the high priest of Jerusalem’s photographic boom was Yessayi Garabedian, the Armenian patriarch, ‘probably the handsomest potentate in the world’, who studied the art in Manchester. His two protégés left the Armenian priesthood and founded photographic studios on the Jaffa Road that offered tourists the chance to buy photographs of Arabs in ‘biblical poses’ or to pose themselves in biblical costume. In a typical moment, a group of bearded and sheepskin-clad Russian peasants gathered in amazement to watch ‘a blue-eyed fair-haired English lady’ wearing ‘an embroidered scarlet costume’ with a brass circlet on her head and ‘tight corsets’ framing a ‘finely-developed bust,’ striking poses in front of David’s Tower. The Russians were half-horrified, half-dazzled.
The growing New City was so architecturally eclectic that today Jerusalem has houses and entire suburbs that look as if they belong anywhere other than in the Middle East. The new Christian edifices added at the end of the century included twenty-seven French convents, ten Italian and eight Russian.* After Britain and Prussia ended their shared Anglo-Prussian bishopric, the Anglicans constructed their own sturdily English St George’s Cathedral, the see of an Anglican bishop. But in 1892, the Ottomans were still building too: Abdul-Hamid had added new fountains, created the New Gate to allow access directly to the Christian Quarter and in 1901, celebrating his twenty-fifth jubilee, he added a belltower to the Jaffa Gate that looked as if it belonged in a suburban English railway station.
Meanwhile Jews and Arabs, Greeks and Germans were colonizing the New City outside the walls. In 1869, seven Jewish families founded the Nahalat Shiva – Quarter of the Seven – outside the Jaffa Gate; in 1874, ultra-Orthodox Jews settled in Mea Shearim, now a Hassidic quarter. By 1880, the 17,000 Jews formed a majority and there were nine new Jewish suburbs while the Arab Families built their own Husseini and Nashashibi quarters in Sheikh Jarrah, the area north of the Damascus Gate.† The Families’ Arab mansions boasted decorated ceilings in hybrid Turkish–European styles. One Husseini built the Orient House with its entry hall painted in flowers and geometric patterns, while another, Rabah Effendi Husseini, created
a mansion featuring the Pasha Room with a high dome painted celestial blue, framed by gilded acanthus leaves. Orient House became a hotel then the Palestine Authority’s Jerusalem headquarters in the 1990s and Rabah Husseini’s mansion became the home of Jerusalem’s most eminent American family.
THE AMERICAN OVERCOMERS: KEEPING JESUS’ MILK WARM
On 21 November 1873, Anna Spafford and four of her daughters were crossing the Atlantic on the Ville de Havre when it was struck by another ship. As the ship sank, all four children were drowned, but Anna survived. When she learned, after her rescue, that they were dead, she wanted to throw herself into the water after them. Instead she sent her husband, Horatio, a prosperous Chicago attorney, the heartbreaking telegram: ‘SAVED ALONE. WHAT SHALL I DO?’ What the Spaffords did was to give up their conventional life and come to Jerusalem. First they faced more tragedy: their son died of scarlet fever, leaving them one child, Bertha, out of six. Anna Spafford believed herself ‘spared for a purpose’, but the couple was also outraged by their Presbyterian Church, which regarded their fate as divine punishment. Forming their own messianic sect, which the US press called the Overcomers, they believed that good works in Jerusalem and the restoration of the Jews to Israel – followed by their conversion – would hasten the imminent Second Coming.
In 1881, the Overcomers – thirteen adults and three children, who became the nucleus of the American Colony – settled in a large house just inside the Damascus Gate until, in 1896, they were joined by the farmers of the Swedish Evangelical Church and needed a larger headquarters. They then leased Rabbah Husseini’s mansion in Sheikh Jarrah on the road to Nablus. Horatio died in 1888, but the sect thrived as they preached the Second Coming, converted Jews and developed their colony into a philanthropic, evangelical beehive of hospitals, orphanages, soup-kitchens, a shop, their own photography studio and a school. Their success attracted the hostility of the long-serving American consul-general, Selah Merrill, an anti-Semitic Massachusetts Congregationalist clergyman, Andover professor and inept archaeologist. For twenty years Merrill tried to destroy the Colonists, accusing them of charlatanism, anti-Americanism, lewdness and child-kidnapping. He threatened to send his guards to horsewhip them.
The US press claimed that the Colonists made tea on the Olivet every day ready for the Second Coming: ‘They keepmilk warm at all times’, explained the Detroit News, ‘in case the Lord and Master should arrive and asses are kept saddled in case Jesus appeared and some said they would never die.’ They also played a special part in the city’s archaeology: in 1882, they befriended a British imperial hero who symbolized the empire’s embrace of Bible and sword.
After helping suppress the Boxer Rebellion in China and governing the Sudan, General Charles ‘Chinese’ Gordon settled in John the Baptist’s village, Ein Kerem. But he came into town to study the Bible and enjoy the view from the roof of the Colony’s original house. There he became convinced that the skull-like hill opposite was the true Golgotha, an idea he promoted with such energy that his so-called Garden Tomb became a Protestant alternative to the Sepulchre.* Meanwhile the Overcomers were generous to the many mentally fragile pilgrims whom Bertha Spafford called ‘Simples in the Garden of Allah’. ‘Jerusalem’, she wrote in her memoirs, ‘attracts all kinds of religious fanatics and cranks of different degrees of derangement.’ There were fellow Americans who regarded themselves as ‘Elijah, John the Baptist or another of the prophets [and] there were several messiahs wandering around Jerusalem’. One of the Elijahs tried to kill Horatio Spafford with a rock; a Texan named Titus thought he was a world-conqueror but had to be restrained after he groped the maids. Then there was a rich Dutch countess designing a mansion to house the 144,000 ransomed souls of Revelation 7.4. Yet not all the Americans in Jerusalem were Christian Hebraists. Consul-General Merrill hated the Jews as much as he hated the Overcomers, calling them an arrogant, money-obsessed ‘race of weaklings of whom neither soldiers, colonists nor citizens can be made’.
Gradually the American Colony’s cheerful hymn-singing and charitable deeds made them friends among all sects and religions, and the first port of call for every well-connected writer, pilgrim and potentate. Selma Lagerlöf, a Swedish writer who stayed with the Spaffords, made the Colony famous with her novel Jerusalem, winning the Nobel Literature Prize. In 1902, Baron Plato von Ustinov (grandfather of the actor Peter), who ran a hotel in Jaffa, asked if his guests could stay at the Colony, the start of its transformation into a hotel.19 Yet if the city had been transformed by Westerners, by the end of the century she was dominated by Russia, empire of Orthodox peasants and persecuted Jews, both drawn irresistibly towards Jerusalem – and both travelling from Odessa on the same ships.
41
RUSSIANS
1880–98
GRAND DUKE SERGEI AND GRAND DUCHESS ELLA
Russian peasants, many of them women, often walked all the way from their villages southwards to Odessa for the voyage to Zion. They wore ‘deeply padded overcoats and furlined jackets with sheepskin caps’, the women adding ‘bundles of four or five petticoats and grey shawls over their heads’. They brought their death shrouds and felt, wrote Stephen Graham, an English journalist who travelled with them disguised by perfect Russian, shaggy beard and peasant smock, ‘that when they have been to Jerusalem, the serious occupations of their life are all ended. For the peasant goes to Jerusalem to die in a certain way in Russia – just as the whole concern of the Protestant centres round life.’
They sailed in the ‘dark and filthy holds’ of subsidized ships: ‘In one storm, when the masts were broken, the hold where the peasants rolled over one another like corpses, or grasped at one another like madmen, was worse than any imagined pit, the stench worse than any fire!’ In Jerusalem, they were welcomed ‘by a giant Montenegrin guide in the magnificent uniform of the Russian Palestine Society – scarlet and cream cloak and riding knickers – and conducted through the Jerusalem streets’ crowded with ‘Arab beggars, almost naked and ugly beyond words, howling for coppers’, to the Russian Compound. There they lived in capacious, crowded dormitories for ‘threepence-a-day’ and ate kasha, cabbage soupand mugs of kvass root-beer in the refectories. There were so many Russians that the ‘Arab boys ran alongside shouting in Russian “Muscovites are good!”’
Throughout the journey, rumours would spread: ‘There is a mysterious passenger on board.’ When they arrived, crying ‘Glory be to Thee O God!’, they would say, ‘There’s a mysterious pilgrim in Jerusalem,’ and claim to have seen Jesus at the Golden Gate or by Herod’s wall. ‘They spend a night in the Sepulchre of Christ,’ explained Graham, ‘and receiving the Holy Fire, extinguish it with their caps that they will wear in their coffins.’ Yet they were increasingly shocked by ‘Jerusalem the earthly, a pleasure-ground for wealthy sightseers’, and particularly by ‘the vast strange ruined dirty verminous’ Church, ‘the womb of death’. They would reassure themselves by reflecting, ‘We find Jesus really when we cease looking at Jerusalem and allow the Gospel to look into us.’ Yet their Holy Russia itself was changing: Alexander II’s liberation of the serfs in 1861 unleashed expectations of reform that he could not satisfy: anarchist and socialist terrorists hunted him down in his own empire. During one attack, the emperor himself drew his pistol and fired at his would-be killers. But in 1881 he was finally assassinated in St Petersburg, his legs blown off by bomb-throwing radicals.
Rumours quickly spread that Jews were implicated (there was a Jewish woman in the terrorists’ circle but none of the assassins was Jewish) and these unleashed bloody attacks against Jews across Russia, encouraged and sometimes organized by the state. These predations gave the west a new word: pogrom, from the Russian gromit – to destroy. The new emperor, Alexander III, a bearded giant with blinkered, conservative views, regarded the Jews as a ‘social cancer’ and he blamed them for their own persecution by honest Orthodox Russians. His May Laws of 1882 effectively made anti-Semitism* a state policy, enforced by secret-police repression.
r /> The emperor believed Holy Russia would be saved by autocracy and Orthodoxy encouraged by the cult of pilgrimage to Jerusalem. He therefore appointed his brother Grand Duke Sergei Alexandrovich to the presidency of the Imperial Orthodox Palestine Society ‘to strengthen Orthodoxy in the Holy Land’.
On 28 September 1888, Sergei and his twenty-four-year-old wife Ella, pretty granddaughter of Queen Victoria, consecrated their Church of Mary Magdalene, with white limestone and seven glistening gold onion-domes, on the Mount of Olives. Both were moved by Jerusalem. ‘You can’t imagine what a profound impression it makes’, Ella reported to Queen Victoria, ‘when entering the Holy Sepulchre. It’s such an intense joy being here and my thoughts constantly turn to you.’ Ella, born a Protestant princess of Hesse-Darmstadt, had passionately embraced her conversion to Orthodoxy. ‘How happy’ it made her to ‘see all these holy places one learns to love from tender infancy.’ Sergei and the emperor had carefully overseen the design of the church, with Ella commissioning its paintings of Magdalene. ‘It’s like a dream to see all these places where our Lord suffered for us,’ Ella told Victoria, ‘and such an intense comfort to pray here.’ Ella needed comfort.
Sergei, thirty-one years old, was a military martinet and domestic tyrant haunted by rumours of a secret gay life that clashed with his severe belief in autocracy and Orthodoxy. ‘Without redeeming features, obstinate, arrogant and disagreeable, he flaunted his peculiarities,’ claimed one of his cousins. His marriage to Ella placed him at the centre of European royalty: her sister Alexandra was about to marry the future tsar Nicholas II.