Thursday, August 16th 1945

On Thursday morning (Aug 16th) after breakfast Maurice and I repaired to the Old City and finding the citadel closed still in celebration of VJ+1, we crossed the road to the CofE. Christ Church. This is in a very unassuming style and is tucked away in a little close away from the bustle of the city. Its story is interesting as it was the first Protestant Christian Church to be erected within the walls. The attitude of the Turkish Government last century to Christian churches was apparently the typical Arab attitude of today. If a church was already built, then somehow or other it must have been the will of Allah at one time or another so let it remain. But to give permission for a new Christian church to be built was obviously flying right into trouble by offending Allah. One of the British consuls in Jerusalem however, put forward a very strong complaint that every other ambassador of any sort in Jerusalem had a place to worship except himself. So after a tremendous struggle he got permission, then could find no one to work on the building, then got his permission rescinded and finally got the Church built. It is very plain work in Nineteenth Century style with lots of Jerusalem crosses about, so:

From there we turned down David’s Street, part of the Arab suq, down a continuous if far from regular series of cobbled steps between Arab shops. The street was as crowded as ever, but the first turning on the left, Christian Street, was much quieter. Despite the name and the situation (in the Christian quarter) all the shops, Maurice said, were kept by either Jews or Arabs. They were mostly bigger shops and of the type which the customer enters. We went into a shoe shop and were shown by the proprietor into the back premises, a store room. Through the window we say, some distance below, a great area of rubble and stones, including, from somewhere, a single pathetic Roman column. This, Maurice explained, was Hezehiah’s pool and formed an important water supply for the Old City in former days. It had been made by damming the head of a tiny, untraceable wadi which once ran through the Old City. Thus the water of the rainy season was conserved for use throughout the year. Christian Street, which is one of the few level streets in the Old City, is horizontal merely because it is artificial. Although to walk along the street, lined with shops, one would never imagine it is built, shops and all, on the dam of Hezekiah’s pool. The Arabic name for the pool is, by the way, Birket hammam el batrah, Pool of the patriarch’s bath!

From Christian Street we twisted and turned through various alleyways to the nearby Church of the Holy Sepulchre. From the outside not much is visible except a great forest of scaffolding put up by the Government in 1935 to support the façade damaged by earthquake in 1927. It stands in a little courtyard which is surrounded by chapels of the various churches. Through the door we passed three divanei in the eastern style. It appears that, no two Christian churches, ever having been able to agree about the ownership of the Church, it has remained since 1244 the property of two Moslem families. Every morning, according to the guide book, one or other of the Christian communities must pay for the opening of the Church. Certainly their divan is still there. It appears that the Christian communities are each more ready for an impartial Moslem to hold the keys than for another rival Church.

The central rotunda is covered by a (modern) dome, one of the two which mark the Church seen from a distance. Immediately in front of the Church seen from a distance. Immediately in front of the porch, just inside the rotunda, a slab of marble, protection against souvenir and relic hunters) covers the stone of the anointing, on which it is said that the body of Our Lord was placed and embalmed and bound in the linen cloth before being moved to the sepulchre. Sanctuary lamps tended by the various churches hang above. In the centre of the rotunda a rectangular building houses the Holy Sepulchre. First one enters the Chapel of the Angel, in which, enclosed in a glass case, is a small fragment of what is said to be the rolling stone on which of course the Angel was seated. From here, through a low hole some three feet high, five people at a time may enter the Holy Sepulchre itself, a richly decorated, dimly lit chapel, the altar of which is formed by a slab of marble which is said to cover the rock on which Christ’s body was laid. We returned via the Chapel of the Angel – the only way in or out. Over the glass case there are fifteen lights, five tended by the Roman, five by the Greek, four by the Armenian and one by the Coptic Churches. The remaining part of the Sepulchre building, with no door into the Holy Sepulchre itself, is a Coptic chapel. The whole of this building housing the three chapels It is in the centre of the big, domed rotunda.

Maurice disappeared to buy some candles from the Greeks and when he returned we lit them and crossed into the darkness surrounding the rotunda. A low door led from the room we had entered to a series of caves in which are, quite unmistakeably, early rock tombs. Some appear to be just a coffin shaped hollow cut out of the rock floor, others are cut endways (not sideways) on into the wall just a foot or two above the ground. They are, however quite definitely tombs. The Sepulchre of Joseph of Arimethea as alleged, or not, their importance lies in the argument that since there were tombs there, this site must have lain outside the city walls at some time, although now it is well to the centre of the “old” walled city. Through the rotunda again, we passed to the Roman chapel of St. Mary Magdalene and through it to the chapel of the Apparition of Jesus to His Mother, where the Roman Catholics have their column of the flagellation, a piece of porphyry, two feet or so high.

We returned through the Greek church also shored up with scaffolding. In the centre of the Greek church a raised stone with four black radii and a black circular spot in the centre marks the exact (?) centre of the world, midway between Calvary and the Holy Sepulchre. We climbed some steps at the south side to an upstairs series of chapels which are supposed to have formerly been at ground level on the summit of Golgotha. In support of this statement a chunk of limestone is shown in a glass case on the floor. The various churches have altars here and the spots where the three crosses were erected are marked. Through a slit in the marble may be seen a channel in a piece of limestone, said to be the “rock rent” in the earthquake during the crucifixion. A case at the side contains a fabulously valuable quantity of gold ornaments and jewels.

Down to the level of the main church, round the Greek church and down a further flight of steps lies the Armenian church of St. Helena beyond which a still further flight leads to the Roman Catholic chapel of the “Finding of the Cross”, where St. Helena found the three crosses. The altar is the gift of the Austrian Archduke Maximilian, later Emperor of Mexico and a slab at the side is said to cover the actual cistern where St. Helena found the Holy Cross.

We climbed into the Church again and passed through the Chapel of St. Adam which is said to be carved out of the rock of Calvary, and is revered by the Greeks as the spot where the skull of Adam lay, in perpetuation of the (symbolic ?) legend that the blood of Christ fell on the skull of Adam.

The queer mixture of reverence and irreverence, priests and Moslem guides showing parties round, and the dim sepulchral expanse of chapels – I have not mentioned a quarter of them – make it hard to realise that this was ever a “green hill … without a city wall”, if indeed it ever was. The Garden Tomb, even if it be not the tomb of Christ, is far more like the garden of Joseph of Arimethea than the crowded Church of the Holy Sepulchre. We came out into the sunshine and saw in the courtyard, protected by an iron grille, the tomb of Philip d’Aubigny, tutor to the English King Henry II and, I believe, a signatory to the Magna Carta. We had a look in several chapels surrounding the courtyard and I tried my hand at several varieties of Greek script. We were then shown the Greek chapel of St. Abraham, commemorating the “sacrifice” of Isaac. We tried to find our way to the Abyssinian Church on the roof, but even Maurice got lost in this Ecclesiastical maze and we finished up somewhere upstairs back in the convent of St. Abraham. From vague directions given in Arabic, we left the Church and walked round the block in which it stands.

On the way we came to the “Russian Excavations”, so Maurice rang the bell at a most imposing door, and a Russian Nun who did not appear to speak any English, signified that we might enter. Maurice led me along a corridor, through the Convent or Hospice, and down a flight of stairs to where, rather unexpectedly we came upon a great Roman columned arch, with others in line, incorporated into the inside wall of this modern Russian building. There are also other capitals and big blocks of stone which are taken to be either part of the City Wall (in support of the theory that the Church of the Holy Sepulchre was outside the City walls) or, part of the columned street built by Hadrian, from near the present Damascus Gate to Mount Sion. We had a look at the Russian church, then continued on our way round the block, through a street of the Suq. Between two shops, we climbed a flight of stairs up into a deserted, dirty Coptic hospice which we explored. We were shown the Coptic chapel which has some rather striking mural paintings, rather crudely done, of Biblical scenes. We found ourselves on the roof of the Chapel of St. Helens, but could not locate the Abyssinians.

We therefore came down into the Suq area and followed the Via Dolorosa past the back of the church of the Holy Sepulchre, and up the broad steps – there is a step every 6 ft. or so and the street is rather slippery, being cobbled with big round stones – to the CWL (Catholic Women’s’ League) canteen at the far side of the Latin Patriarchate.

While Maurice was sitting holding a cup of tea by the handle, a foot or so above the table, the cup detached itself from the handle and poured the tea all over him, much to our amusement, and the amusement of the canteen assistants. We went into the gardens of the CWL which by the way was formerly a hostel for pilgrims of the Roman Church, and found that from there we could climb by various stairs and connecting ledges to the top of the present city wall. We did so and walked along finding ourselves almost opposite the Church of Scotland Hostel where we ourselves were staying in the New City. We walked on and arrived on the roof of the Jaffa Gate. Then we could continue no further, because at the far side is the gap in the wall which we were told was cut to enable the Kaiser to ride through to open the German Lutheran Church of the Redeemer in 1898. Across the street is the Citadel. Maurice pointed out that there is no trace of a broken wall or of recent alterations and said he wondered whether the roadway runs on the filled-in moat rather than through a gap in the wall. As we could not get down at the Jaffa Gate, we returned and then decided to see how far we could get in the opposite direction. We went past the CWL, the Latin Patriarchate and the Franciscan Monastery and finished up above the New Gate. We then had to come back to the CWL and got out into Francis Street, the continuation of the Via Dolorosa up which we came. We turned the other way and Maurice plunged through a maze of alleyways and showed me, near the Jaffa Gate, a short pillar with a Latin inscription which we were able to decipher and translate between us. It appears to have been erected in memory of the Commander of the 10th Legion.

We went straight to the Suq. And turned past the Church of the Holy Sepulchre into other alley was where Maurice led me to what he called a card sharper's den, but which the guide book refers to more euphemistically, I have since seen, as a native coffee house. Inside it is obvious that the building despite its present use was once a church. It is in fact a Crusader Church, and was called by them “The Church of Zebedee’s Fish Shop”.

We retraced our steps to the Via Dolorosa but turned this time down instead of up. Some little way down we went into the Greek Prison of Christ. Nobody but the Greeks apparently holds this tradition and although there are several “Prisons of Christ” on show in Jerusalem it is apparently very doubtful that Christ was ever in a prison. This prison is interesting however, as it is fairly certainly a Roman dungeon under the Antonia Fortress.

Much like an other dark damp dungeon, its chief points of note are the fastening devices. For better class prisoners holes in a thick shelf of solid rock – the prisoner placed his feet through the holes and his ankles were then fettered so that he could not escape but could at least sit on the rock. For other prisoners two sleeves cut in the irregular face of the solid rock held fettered wrists at arms length head-high in the same fashion.

We came out and crossed the road (the Via Dolorosa) to the Police Barracks opposite. A large notice just inside the doorway said “No visitors are allowed to enter the barracks for the purpose of viewing the Temple area”. Maurice however, completely ignored this and asked the policeman on sentry duty if we might see the Moslem “Holy of Holies”. He assured me that “Visitors” is merely a euphemism for “Jews”, the Moslems being afraid of bombs, rather surprisingly, since firstly one could not hit any Mosque from that distance and secondly, if I wanted to throw a bomb, I would not choose a Police barracks as throwing bay. However, the policeman treated us with remarkable courtesy, leaving his post to show us the exact spot from which to obtain the best view.

The whole temple area is very hush-hush. With special permission from the Moslem Council (obtained by the Service Organisations for British forces) one may look round – that is look at what one is shown. But underneath must lie an incredible wealth of archaeological discoveries. For example, the wall outside the city has been excavated to a depth of 80ft. below present ground-level and presumably there is a similar depth of debris – the debris of the two great temples among other things. At present in the centre is a raised stone platform some three feet above ground-level on which stands the Mosque of Omar, the Dome of the Rock. Beyond from where we stood was the Mosque El Aksar, “The Furthest” Mosque because at the time of its building, it was from Mecca. This Mohammedan Holy of Holies, the Temple Area is unbelievably dirty and untidy. It is partly paved, partly cracked paving stones, grass or dirt between. Ragged Arab children seem to be free to run and play where-ever they like outside the buildings.

We returned to the Via Dolorosa and passed under the so-called “Ecce Homo” Arch to St. Stephen’s Gate. From there, we turned right through a Mohammedan Cemetery, skirting the Temple Area outside the City walls, high above the brook “Kedron”, opposite Gethsemane and the Mount of Olives. The poor Mohammedans seem to have a rough circle of small stones to make do in lieu of a tombstone. The rich have a small tomb 2ft by 2ft by 5ft built up with a short wall 4ft high at both the short ends. We came past the Golden Gate at which Christ would have entered coming from Bethany or the Mount of Olives or Gethsemane, which is also the Gate Beautiful but has been built in by the Mohammedans. The Wall has, in portions, the original Jewish masonry, in parts the Roman, and between and above the “Modern” Turkish of 300 years ago.

Maurice pointed out to me a portion of a Roman pillar, circular and built horizontally into the wall projecting outwards, at a great height. This according to the Mohammedans is “Mohammed’s Judgement Seat” and he will sit there on the last day judging the dead as they rise from their graves. To be buried on the spot here is supposed to be very advantageous and certainly it would be difficult to find an area with more corpses to the acre. The opposite bank of the Valley of the Kedron here known as the Valley of Jehosophat is a Jewish Cemetery. There are quite a number of ancient tombs about as well. Another legend is that there will be a rope stretched right across the Kedron Valley and to walk across will be a sort of trial by ordeal – those who are heavy with unbalanced sin falling back to the graves below. We turned the corner above Siloam, or Silwan, and came up the slope of Mount Zion to the Zion Gate, entered and cut off a corner by coming through the Armenian quarter to the Jaffa Gate and so to lunch.

After lunch, Maurice went up to see what transport would be around that evening and located his Unit’s sign on a Jeep, found the driver and discovered he was not leaving the car park until 10 pm. We then crossed the road to the YMCA, an immense grandiose American building with a very high tower. As it sands on the hill just across the Vale of Hinnom from the Old City, it commands all Jerusalem and from the top there is a very fine view. We climbed up and spent some considerable time trying to pick out the 140 or so points of interest shown and named on the 4 bronze plaques which the view diagrammatically on the parapets at the four sides of the tower. The atmosphere was fairly hazy and we could barely pick out the Dead Sea and the mountains of Trans-Jordan. But there was none the less plenty to see.

After a visit to the canteen and a fruitless search for the tomb of Herod’s wife which appears to have been utilised by the Army as a store or shelter, but is certainly in an out of bounds area now, Maurice took me to the house of a friend he had met here previously, for tea. Mr. and Mrs. Hornestone, he an English schoolmaster who has spent many years in Jerusalem welcomed us. Mr. Hornestone is, it appears, a great authority on ancient Jerusalem and told us how, some long time ago, he went with his friend Canon Hananer, into some old passage ways under the stone platform on which the Mosque of Omar stands. They got in through an excavation made by some Moslem workmen, for some reason or other, and being unprepared for such exploration, they went some distance but then returned and came back the next day. They were then told that it was strictly forbidden for non-Moslems to enter any such passages and found that the digging had been hurriedly filled in overnight. We described what we had seen so far, and Mr. and Mrs. Hornestone added comments on each. When they heard that we had visited the Greek “Prison of Christ” but had not been to see the “Sisters of Zion” next door, they had rung up a taxi and were ready. Incidentally, the shortest telephone call I have ever heard “Have you a taxi?” “Send it to Mr. Hornestone’s house, Kataman”. We rode to the Damascus gate and Mrs. Hornestone took us through the Old City and found Sister Mary, a very small, very old lady, the Mother Superior or whatever they call her. She rushed us round to see the names carved on tablets round the walls, done for £3 as a remembrance of absent Friends, the dead, relatives and so on, so that as she said “All their friends may be here where Jesus was quite without a friend”. – unfortunately, this rather distracted us from the really interesting things – the floor. A great area is the original Roman paving of the Antonia or its courtyard. In various places are different games scratched out on the floor – one which Maurice explained to me is a variety of the modern Army game of Crown and Anchor, except that this was Crown and Spear. Mrs. Hornestone pointed out the roadway, ridged to prevent slipping, and showed us, under a modern trapdoor an expanse of water at a great depth below. I suppose this was the water supply for the fortress. We returned to the Modern City discussing, for some reason, the film “The Song of Bernadette” on the way back, which Mrs. Hornestone classed as a piece of subtle Roman Catholic propaganda, very beautiful none the less. Always it was “The Lady” and nothing more. We saw Mrs. Hornestone onto the bus and returned to St. Andrew’s where Maurice and I seemed to be unable to stop discussing Army Wireless sets, much to Frank Anstis’s disgust. Maurice is, of course, an operator, but Frank is a Line Mechanic. Just before 10 o’clock we saw Maurice off and I returned and packed all my kit ready to move North in the morning to Galilee.