~ Through the eyes of an American woman ~

I asked a fellow family-history researcher the other day: Do you know what you find when you go down a rabbit hole? No, what? he replied on cue. My answer: a web of rabbit holes. 

My research is never linear. It takes me down so many rabbit holes, I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever find my way back. But it’s all so much fun!  

In response to a query that came in to the Jerusalem, We Are Here project a few weeks ago, I was looking through press clips and, as is my wont, I did not limit myself to reading only about the subject on hand but allowed my eyes to stray all over the page. And so I bumped into a serialised article called Home Life on Mount Zion, published by the Boston Hebrew Observer in the fall of 1884. 

The images of the British Mandate era (1920s-1940s) are fairly vivid in my mind. That was the time my family and their contemporaries remember and have talked about extensively in the many hours of oral history interviews I’ve conducted, and for which there is a plethora of photographic and printed material available. But what was  Jerusalem like when the first Schtakleff, my great-great-grandfather George arrived ca 1860 from Tetovo, his Balkan town of origin? What did he and his brother Zacharia see and experience in the streets of this Ottoman city and its environs? That is the hook that pulled me down this particular rabbit hole.

One specific element in the article caught my attention and next thing I knew I was reading the second instalment of the story, researching the author and her family, then downloading her book which I proceeded to read in its entirety. I followed up with searching for some photos from that era to round off the picture in my mind. 

The author was Sarah Barclay Johnson. She was the daughter of James T Barclay, the first missionary to Palestine on behalf of the American Christian Missionary Society. Barclay père was born in Virginia, USA, in 1807 and studied medicine at the University of Pennsylvania. A titbit of trivia: Soon after his marriage in 1830, Barclay purchased the (in)famous Monticello, iconic and controversial home of Thomas Jefferson (US history being entirely out of my bailiwick, that is one rabbit hole I did not go down) but disposed of it soon after, following familial or financial pressures. The Barclays had three children, two boys and a daughter, Sarah, who was the youngest, born in 1837. 

Barclay’s spiritual journey led him from mainstream Presbyterianism to the recently founded American Christian Missionary Society (associated with the Restoration movement) which sent him on his mission to Jerusalem in the winter of 1851. His three-year stint resulted in his book The City of the Great King, or Jerusalem as It Was, and It is, and It is To Be, published in Philadelphia in 1857. The following year it was his daughter’s turn to have her book on Jerusalem published, also in Philadelphia, titled: Hadji in Syria; or, Three Years in Jerusalem. That is the book on which the newspaper article was based.

So it looks like Sarah wrote the book in her late teens or aged twenty, and based it on her childhood memories. Interestingly her impressions come across as those of a more mature woman. Perhaps precociousness was a sign of her time or family background, or her childhood memories were reprocessed by her somewhat older self. Both hers and her father’s books are illustrated by her own sketches and paintings. (My pdf copy of her book does not include them but I found some samples of her work online. Her father also took photographs and he’s mentioned as perhaps the first American to photograph the Holy Land with the help of the British photographer James Graham. I haven’t been able to locate any of his images.)

By the time her book was published, Sarah was a married woman. In 1856 she wed Jeremiah Augustus Johnson who was the US Consul General in Beirut, (Greater) Syria, and with whom she had three children, all born in Beirut. 

In 1858 James Barclay returned to Jerusalem for more of his missionary work but resigned his position at the outbreak of the US Civil War in 1861. He then lived with his family in Beirut (presumably because Sarah was there) and also in Cyprus (I valiantly resisted that rabbit hole!) before returning to the US in 1865. He died in 1874.

Sarah, Jeremiah, and their kids returned to the US sometime after the birth of their third child in 1881, where shortly thereafter Sarah met a tragic end. In 1883 she and her daughter were shot to death by her eldest son Barclay, who then shot himself too—an incident attributed to a fit of insanity. 

Jerusalem Travelogue

And so we come to the actual contents of her book and its newspaper excerpt: Sarah’s experiences and impressions of Palestine—Jerusalem more specifically since that’s where she spent most of her stay, and that’s what interests me more.  

To provide some context, let’s remember that in the mid-nineteenth century there were practically no residential buildings in Jerusalem outside the Old City walls. As for the population, the most generous of estimates put it at no more than twenty thousand. 

The Barclays arrived by ship in Beirut, “one of the prettiest of eastern towns”, where they hired “a guard and dragoman” by the name of Yusef who, clad in the “gay costume of the Greek Arabs” and with “his bristling girdle … overflowingly supplied with dirks, sabres and pistols”, was to accompany them on their trip to Jerusalem on horseback. It was quite an arduous journey for these “Franks”—a term I thought applied only to Europeans but the author uses it more broadly to include Americans, too, ie westerners. The reward for their troubles was visits to places mentioned in the Bible—Sidon, Tyre, Acre, Caesarea, etc—descriptions of which the authoress (as her publisher refers to her) effusively matched with corresponding verses of the good book (and which I pointedly do not reproduce here.)

Their overnight stopovers were mostly in khans and caravanserais. In Jaffa they where hosted at the Armenian monastery where from the window of her room Sarah marvelled at the sea and “the beautiful orange and lemon groves for which the neighborhood of the town is noted…”

At last, with much emotion, they glimpse from afar the “swelling domes and towering minarets” of Jerusalem, and, “entering the lofty portal of the Jaffa Gate and turning to the left, [they] alight at the Latin convent”. I believe it’s the same establishment where I too stayed during my first visit to Jerusalem in 1986—only in my time it was being used as a bona fide hotel called the Knights’ Palace. 

With Bible in hand—in lieu of a travel guide—they begin their tour of the sights. They marvel at “the well-preserved turreted walls” and the “four very imposing gates” which close at night for protection: “about midway the northern wall” is Damascus Gate, “called by the natives Bab-el-Amûd, Gate of the Pillar, and Bab-es-Sham, or Syria of which Damascus is the capital”; St Stephen’s Gate which “faces Mount Olivet” (aka Mount of Olives); and all around to “Zion Gate on the south, near which, both within and without, the lepers live in their mud huts.” It would be about thirty years before these “loathsome lepers” would find refuge, comfort, and care at the Leper’s Hospital, aka Hansen House, established by the Moravian Church in Talbiyeh. 

Completing the circuit of the walls they are back at Jaffa Gate, “the principal ‘gathering-place’ of the city”. This is the busiest of all the gates, guarded by Ottoman soldiers who impose “a heavy tax for every basket of vegetables, fruit, and fowls brought into the city” by “country people”. Exiting from the gate—this is well before the wall was breached at the end of the century—they encounter a lively scene: “to the right are the café and custom-house, patronized by crowds of Jews, Turks, and Christians, engaged in smoking and gaming.” I can just see Great-Great-Grandfather George (GGGG) sitting with his brother Zacharia among the patrons of the “café”, with his red tarbush, puffing on a nargileh… “To the left, is the justly dreaded quarantine station, which is nothing more  nor less than the deep fosse of the fortifications of the city castle…” 

As they criss-cross the Old City, they go past the Armenian Church of St James, its “door entirely encased with mother-of-pearl and tortoise shell”, and further down the Armenian hospital and printing press. As they exit Zion Gate again, they see the “curious aggregation of buildings” of Nabi Daoud (David’s Tomb) where supposedly the Last Supper took place. “All this part of the hill is covered with the burying ground of the Greeks, Armenians, and Latins”, the first being a place I never fail to visit during my Jerusalem trips, to tend to GGGG’s grave. 

Making their way down Via Dolorosa all the way to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, Barclay notes the “so-called ‘sacred localities’”, like the church itself, which she regards with Protestant disdain. She disputes (not entirely unreasonably but with an abundance of contempt) whether the various “holy places” (quotes are her own) truly represent the places they stand for. It’s clear that she considers it all to be a sham, and the pilgrims who fall for it “have the bumps of ignorance, superstition, and legendary faith”. GGGG would be one of them! 

Sarah goes to quite some length to discuss each of the three main religions of Palestine, dedicating a chapter to each. Her criticisms spare no one—neither the “Mohammedans” who “elevated a false religion to the standard of the holiest and purest faith the world has ever known”; nor the Jews whose “condition is a sad and wonderful verification of the sure word of the prophecy, which long ago doomed them to their present state of degradation and woe”; nor any of the various denominations of Christians, “Roman and Greek Catholics, Armenians, Copts, Syrians, and Abyssinians”, nor least the “Scarlet Lady”—the Roman Catholics who are “generally the originators of the traditions with which the Holy City abounds” most of which she deems absurd. 

The inevitable sense of Western superiority and orientalist attitude of the author are not so obvious in the newspaper article but the book provides ample space for them to be put on full display. But in both formats, she also strikes a feminist tone, expressing sorrow at the state of, as well as compassion and solidarity for, the women of the east. She counts her blessings for having been born a woman in America.

Inside the Old City

On the way from Damascus Gate to Zion Gate, the Barclays find the principal bazaars. 

“What motley throngs of human beings!—if, indeed, all those bipeds passing before us may be honored with such a designation. What a ferocious-looking animal is that scowling Bedawin sheikh! … But what poor half-naked women are those sitting along the bazaars selling charcoal, parsley, snails, eggs, and fruits, and vegetables of every kind,—shamelessly unveiled? They are the fellahin women—the serfs of Palestine and Syria. Upon these poor creatures devolves nearly all the drudgery of farming and trafficking.”

She takes a close look at the “silversmiths, braziers, and other metal mongers” and is impressed by “the pipe-making bazaar where so many hands are constantly employed; for every one smokes in Jerusalem, from the old Pasha down to the youngest girl!” A character “with a well filled goatskin on his back, and various vessels appended on both sides” catches her eye. “He is a walking fountain: and pours forth water both sweet and bitter! drinks of all sorts: sherbet, lemonade, and sweetened scented water, and even arak for the Christian!” Then there’s the “professional oil man, retailing oil from his goatskin bottle, and every rag about him is perfectly saturated with oil.” 

On one occasion when returning to the Old City:

“…my donkey slowly picked his way down Christian Street, almost falling down crooked streets of stairs, or brushing my skirt against a loaded camel or clamorous beggar. Again, I passed through lofty arcades or bazaars, and then through tortuous, narrow alleys to lighter and wider streets where bread, fruit, grain, and leather are sold. Stumbling against bags of charcoal or grain which blocked the way, I peered into a dark oven where bare-armed men were rapidly casting cakes of dough upon the glowing platform of stone and mortar, where they are instantly baked and piled upon trays. Servants and peasant-women in their dusky robes and veils stood waiting for their bread, and others bore off on their heads their daily supplies. Some of their bread is very thin, crisp, and almost transparent.”

She watches the tailors “tracing intricate and pretty figures for gold and silver embroidery on broadcloth and velvet, while others cut out shapes in yellow and red morocco for boots and slippers”, and is particularly interested in “the fine stitching on saddles and saddle-cloths, in silver, gold, and colored threads. Gay bridles were exposed for sale, and on some of them were attached charms and talismans of coins, strings of blue beads, small bells, and white shells, to keep off the evil eye.”

The people seen in the bazaars are quite diverse:

“Jerusalem being a spot of so much attraction to every nation under heaven, we here see every variety of costume, making the bazaars a continual carnival. One moment you are greeted with a garb betokening the highest civilization, and the next, with the coarse camel’s hair garment of a Bedawin from the burning sands of the desert. At one step you meet the black silk wrappings of the Egyptian women, and the next the ghostly white robes of her Syrian sister.”

The streets of Jerusalem are a far cry from the fairly smooth—often to the point of being rather slippery—cobblestoned alleys of today. “There is a ditch in the centre of most of the streets, but there are no sidewalks and no pavements, for the unevenly laid stones do not deserve the name…” Paved with “smooth rock of every size and shape” in places, they are covered with “ankle-deep mud” in others, and one must take care “to avoid, at every step, the accumulated heaps of filth and debris”, no doubt primarily on account of all the four-legged traffic which also adds to the soundscape: “the braying of donkeys, the growling of camels, the clattering of horses’ hoofs.” Cats and “droves of dogs” abound. 

As the Barclays make their way along the narrow alleys, they often have to retreat into doorways at the approach of “packmules … with a woman and child in a basket on one side counterpoising several large children on the other!”, a small donkey carrying a huge “stack of weed, briars, and brush… the fuel of the Jerusalem bakeries” as well as a “long string of camels laden with brushwood from Hebron!”

Street lighting would not be introduced by the municipality till the end of the century when kerosene street lamps were installed. In Sarah’s time: 

“At night you see here and there the dim flickering of a little earthen lamp of olive oil beside a reclining figure of a man, who lies sleeping upon a raised platform in front of his bazaar; and this is the only light one enjoyed in a nocturnal walk through the city. Hence the necessity of carrying our own lamps—a necessity which is still farther enforced by the regulation inflicting fine and imprisonment upon all who are caught in the street without a light after an early hour.” 

But in some respects, the Old City didn’t look all that different from today:

“The streets are lined with bare stone walls of prison-like houses, broken by a very few, and very small, latticed windows, and covered usually with arches, or pieces of matting, stretched from house to house…”

Sarah made friends with Turkish women in Jerusalem with whom she had various adventures. On one occasion they invite her on a visit to the Haram al-Sharif. Having first made sure she was appropriately dressed—“à la Turk”, in silk trousers, veil, etc, all the way down to the troublesome slippers in which she finds it impossible to walk—they sneak her into the Dome of the Rock and the Al-Aqsa mosque. In a subsequent escapade, they visit “one of the finest bathing establishments in the city”, ie a hammam.

All this within the confines of the Old City which covers just under a square kilometre (a third of a square mile). 

Domestic Life

After a few days at the Latin Convent, Mr Barclay rented a house in the Jewish quarter with “open courts and perplexing corridors, and stairways leading to chambers of all sizes.“ They employ local workmen to make repairs, furnish it with local material, and move in. Part of it was used as his surgery where he received patients. It seems that he had more success as a doctor than as a missionary.

In a central court, “was a little elevated garden of oleander, rosemary, and other shrubbery.” The kitchen “was a small room, with an abundance of tongeras (copper kettles), a few skewers for roasting kebab or small sausages, and a solitary frying-pan.” 

And then there were the rooftop terraces: 

“Over the kitchen was a staircase leading to the house-top, which was surrounded by a wall about five feet high. … The Orientals spend much of their time on their house-tops, which are of easy access by flights of stone steps. They are generally surrounded, moreover, by walls of sufficient height to conceal their occupants from the view even of people on the roofs of adjoining houses. Small chambers are sometimes built in the corners of the wall, and in these the inmates of the house spend much of their time during the summer.”

Sarah spent a lot of time on the roof terrace, observing life around her and watching the sunset. 

“On the terraces and in the courts of some of the houses women are seen sifting wheat, shaking and beating rugs, or pounding kibbie. Far below, on the roof of a mean little hut, a Nubian woman is swinging her infant on her back, and leaves the house with a tray of dough-cakes on her head. She is on her way to one of the public ovens. In the alleys, winding amongst the mud hovels of the Mugrabin quarter, camels and donkeys growl and scold under their heavy loads, and muleteers unmercifully urge them on with sticks.”

Life in the Outdoors

Here’s the part that first caught my attention: 

“The malaria arising from the debris of Jerusalem, compels all Frank residents, who wish to live out a full year, to pitch their tents in the country, and remain outside the walls several months of the warm season.”

“The English residents selected a spot a short distance from the Jaffa gate for their tents. But it was too far to walk, so I mounted my donkey and rode there. Bishop Gobat’s tents were very handsome, and those of the English consul were quite as striking, being green and prettily adorned with designs in applique work. There were drawing-rooms and bed tents, and through the openings children and servants might be seen at work or play. I found Mrs. Finn, the wife of the consul, seated on quite an English-looking sofa, busy with a piece of needlework. She said she tried to surround herself as much as possible with home comforts, and with her embroidery, her books and piano, so that she could almost make believe she was back again in London. … A fine white goat was led about and fondled by [the children]. It was given them by Mr. W. Holman Hunt, and had been used by him as his model while painting the “Scapegoat.” I learned from Mrs. Finn that the Europeans encamped outside the walls from June to September, the gentlemen going to town every day. She showed me the foundations of a small stone house which Mr. Finn was having built by native masons, as a summer home. As we sat there, chatting, inside the tent door, several callers came. Amongst them was the Greek Patriarch, a splendid old man with a flowing gray beard, and a purple veil hanging from his tall miter down his back almost to the ground; also Bishop Gobat, accompanied by a janizary bearing his silver staff of office. Before my departure her niece had shown me the pantries, kitchen and school tents, the swing hanging from the great mulberry tree near by, and the playground by the brook. The drawing-room tent, with its sofas, easy chairs, books and Persian rugs, was really charming, and I carried away a feeling that I had been in an English home.”

I had no idea about this annual exodus from the walled city in the summer months let alone to what lengths the encampments’ denizens went to furnish and equip their temporary lodgings so elaborately.

Some camped further afield. On one occasion the Barclays rode out to Lifta, “a copious fountain situated about two miles from Jerusalem, so cool, shady and inviting, in every respect, that the Anglican Bishop has selected a hill in its immediate vicinity, for his camping-ground…”

Life in the countryside was not always smooth. At times the Frank campers were “compelled to beat a precipitate retreat into the city on account of the petty wars between the various tribes of Arabs in the vicinity.”

The Barclays themselves established a summer encampment of a rather “humble appearance; for it was a small, dilapidated house, with two rooms and a stable, so constructed that the stable was the hall of entrance. A tent was pitched near the door, of rather great pretensions, being highly decorated with figure of white and green.” Here they received both “distinguished visitors” as well as  the sick who were seeking her father’s ministrations. “Never were we happier than when living in this way on the western spur of Mount Olivet.”

The Frankish community were not the only ones to enjoy the outdoors. “Squads of Turkish women may be seen among the olive trees enjoying a ‘phantazeia,’ or pic-nic’ and the valley resounds with their sharp quavering notes of joy, which are very peculiar.” More picnicking took place “at the confluence of the valleys of Hinnom and Kedron” at the “annual overflowing” of the Well of Joab (Ein Rogel in Hebrew or Bir Ayoub in Arabic). “They bring their culinary utensils, and either pitch tents or place rugs where they lazily loll and smoke their pipes.”

Did George and Zacharia ever have a picnic, or were they too busy trying to figure the logistics of setting up their businesses (flour mills and bakeries)?

The spot where the Barclays had camped out for the summer was near a well where by nightfall the “village maidens” came to fill their jugs. Sarah was impressed by their dress. 

Sarah’s unreserved admiration is saved for what the land produces in the countryside around Jerusalem as a result of the “great diversity of climate and soil.” 

“The variety is almost endless; indeed, so abundant are vegetables, that but little meat is consumed, both from choice and necessity; for the only animal food to be obtained, besides fowls, is mutton and goat-meat.”

“… oranges, dates, figs, pomegranates, lemons, apricots, almonds, and grapes grow throughout the season, requiring no protection. … So abundant are oranges and lemons, that twenty oranges can be bought for a piastre, and thirty lemons for the same small sum.”

“Mount Olivet is planted with olive, fig, pomegranate, mulberry, and almond trees. Olives are eaten either pickled or soaked in olive oil. The most common dish of the Arabs is an earthen vessel of olives, and a loaf of taboon bread…”

“The cactus or prickly pear grows to an immense size, and bears a most palatable, juicy fruit. … In addition … pears and bananas are raised. Grapes are in season during five months of the year, and are converted into unadulterated wine by the Jews and Christians, and raisins by the Mohammedans…”

Finally she outlines a monthly calendar of goods which tickled my senses and made my mouth water:

• January: “… almond, apricot, peach and plum trees … clothed with their rich and fragrant blossoms.”
• February: “The bazaars are lined with flowers, hyacinths, daffodils, tulips, ranunculuses, lilies, narcissus, geraniums, scarlet poppies, anemones, and daisies.” Also “onion, carrots, and beets.”
• March: “Beans, sage, thyme and mint are added…” while various fruit trees “are still heavily laden with fruit and flowers.” Also, “celery, parsley, and other herbs.”
• April: “… vegetation being very abundant, the list becomes longer: white mulberry, artichokes, peas, beans, onions, cucumbers, lettuce, corn, the Arab potato, and a vegetable something like the turnip, lavender, rosemary, and the supposed rose of Sharon.”
• May: “… cucumbers, tomatoes, onions, potatoes, corn, a small species of apple, and late in the month, muskmelons, watermelons, cantelopes, walnuts, blackberries, and the mulberry fig.”
• June: “… an abundance of cherries, figs, plums, damascenes, quinces, olives, almonds, bananas, pomegranates, plantains, grapes, egg-plant, licorice root, dandelion, and henna.”
• July: “… peaches, grapes, pears, nectarines, melons, plums, potatoes, eggplant, prickly pear, Indian fig, pumpkins, dates, damascenes.”
• August: “… a still greater variety of fruits and vegetables are displayed…”
• September: “… there is a slight decrease. In this month cotton and hemp rapidly mature, and the Arab corn, doura, millet, and castor oil plant, which here grows to a tree; the Egyptian maize is also brought to market.” 
• October: “… the streets will be found lined with baskets of olives, grapes, pistachio nuts, radishes, lettuce, and other vegetables of rapid growth.”
• November: “… the olives and grapes being scarce, they bring dates instead. The juice of the grapes is converted into molasses, called by them ‘dibis’. Grapes are also converted into raisins, which, together with figs, are placed in the still for the formation of arrack, the Oriental alcohol.”
• December: “… when the country no longer wears a barren aspect, but is covered with richest verdure, cabbages, cauliflowers, radishes, lettuce, and lentiles are brought to the city.” 

“But this is by no means a complete list of the varieties of fruits, vegetables, medicinal plants, and flowers in the bazaars at different seasons of the year.”

Not a bad output for a people who the West had stereotyped as “indolent Orientals”. George and Zacharia Schtakleff must have enjoyed these gifts of the land as they started building their families and businesses in Jerusalem, and would have added to them their own flour and bread. 

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Sarah Barclay was clearly not an objective observer of Jerusalem—if objectivity could ever be found in the recounting of one’s impressions of a foreign land. But she paints a vivid enough picture of what it was like living in Jerusalem circa 1860 to quench to a certain extent my thirst to “see” what George and Zacharia Schtakleff saw around them. I suspect if I’d searched a bit more I may have found more accounts by “Frank” travellers to Jerusalem, perhaps even better ones or more accurate (but how would I judge that?), than this accidental encounter. But that would certainly have been a rabbit hole too far. ❖