CHAPTER XI
BETHLEHEM
The one spot in the neighbourhood of Jerusalem which one must visit is Bethlehem, the birthplace of the Christ, the music of whose voice and the lustre of whose life have brightened and bettered all the ages, dark and dreary as many of them have been, ever since. It is difficult to visit such a place alone; it is impossible to visit it in company with a garrulous and credulous crowd. I had for companions an esteemed clergyman from Leeds and an Oxford scholar, a man of infinite learning and wit. There had been rain overnight, and the dust was not so much of a nuisance as it generally is, and, besides, we had a refreshing breeze. We did the whole trip between breakfast and lunch. Starting in one of the shabby-looking carriages – the only available vehicle in these parts, which one expects to break down every minute – drawn by a couple of half-starved steeds, it rattled along over the stones at a speed for which one was scarcely prepared. On my way I learned a fact that I may not have mentioned before – viz., that at Constantinople the Sultan had given special orders for the comfort of the excursionists arriving in the Midnight Sun by placing a guard of soldiers around the ship to keep off the crowd, and by giving special orders that the party were to be everywhere received with courtesy and respect. As regards myself, seeing that not very long since the Sultan had ordered one of my books to be burnt, I must own that I felt his conduct in this matter to redound very much to his credit.
We leave our hotel by the road running to the right from outside the Jaffa Gate, and admire very much the long range of neat almshouses built for the poor Jews by the late Sir Moses Montefiore, leaving the Hill of Evil Counsel to the left, and the pretty, red-roofed, clean-looking village inhabited by the German Templars’ community to the right. Then the road passes by the Valley of Rephaim on the right, where David fought twice with the Philistines and conquered them, the signal for the battle the second time being given by a ‘going in the tops of the mulberry-trees,’ which betokened the presence of the Lord. A round stone on the left denotes the well in which, when quenching their thirst, the Wise Men from the East beheld once more reflected in its waters, to their ‘exceeding great joy,’ the star which led them in search of the new-born King of the Jews. On our left is the convent of Mar Elias, now occupied by a brotherhood belonging to the Greek Church. Far off on our right is Giloh, white and glittering in the sun, where dwelt Ahithophel, the Gilonite, David’s counsellor. It is now a village inhabited exclusively by Christians.
Again, on our right, we come to Rachel’s Tomb, at a point where the great highroad to Hebron is left for the road to Bethlehem. There is no dispute as to the identity of Rachel’s tomb; at any rate, for ages the same legend has been connected with the spot. For hundreds of years the site was marked by a pyramid of twelve stones, placed there for the twelve tribes of Israel. The present monument, built by the Moslems, is white – as every building is in this part of the world – an oblong erection, with a small dome on the top. One of my learned friends points to the whiteness of the limestone which lines all the roads, and which is utilized in all the buildings, whether private or public, as an illustration of the falsehood of the legend connected with the home of Our Lady of Loretto, which, according to monkish legend, flew all the way from Palestine to Italy, where yet it remains. The stone of that building is red, a significant proof of the falsehood of the tale. The next point of interest is David’s Well, in commemoration of the incident recorded in Samuel, when the Philistines being in possession of the town, and David in a hold in or near Cave Adullam, he said: ‘Oh that one would give me drink of the water of the well of Bethlehem, which is by the gate! And the three mighty men brake through the host of the Philistines, and drew water out of the well of Bethlehem, which was by the gate, and took it and brought it to David; nevertheless, he would not drink thereof, but poured it out unto the Lord. And he said.. Is not this the blood of the men that went in jeopardy of their lives?’
And now I am in Bethlehem – not a simple country village, as many imagine, but a densely-populated town, with winding, narrow ways, where men and women and children, camels, donkeys, and carriages, seem mixed up in wild disorder. On every side we are shut in with habitations – stony, bare of windows, built high up, with here and there a shop, but chiefly with a simple door on the ground-floor; and then we dash into the market-place, and apparently it is market-day, and half of the open space is filled with buyers and sellers in many-coloured garments of the East; and down on us come the guides and small pedlars, shrieking, ejaculating, spluttering in broken English, just as Byron tells us the Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold.
We enter the Church of the Nativity, regarded as the very oldest specimen of Christian architecture; and a very ugly building it is. In one of the remote quarters I came to an old stone font, bearing the inscription: ‘For the memory, repose and forgiveness of sinners, of whom the Lord knows the name.’ Here, in 1161, Baldwin was crowned King of Jerusalem. Look up at the roof as you pass along, of pure wood and lead, furnished in 1482 by Edward IV. of England and Philip of Burgundy. The guardianship of the church is divided among Greeks, Armenians, and Latins. We are supplied with tapers, and go down in the cave where the Christ was born. A little further on is the place of the manger in which He was laid. In another section of the cave, all hewn out of the solid rock, Joseph is said to have slept when he was warned by God in a dream to take Mary and her child and fly into Egypt. Again, we are shown the spot where the children massacred by King Herod were interred. Fifteen lamps perpetually illuminate the subterranean Church of the Nativity, near which is the Altar of the Adoration, which commemorates the visit of the Magi. Amidst darkness visible we make our way to the cave in which St. Jerome wrote his great work, the translation of the Hebrew Bible into the Vulgate or Latin tongue. It is a dark and dreary spot, and near by we are shown his tomb. One can scarce credit the story of his having done such work in such a corner, or believe that there he lived to reach the ripe age of ninety-two. A year in such a spot would be enough to kill an ordinary orthodox Christian in these degenerate days. I make my exit speedily into the upper air. I have seen enough for one day; no lying legend can tempt me further. The enormous pile of churches built up over the sacred sites, and inhabited by priests of rival Churches, who hate each other like poison, are too much for me.
Bethlehem is the market-place of the Dead Sea Bedouins, and also of the numerous small towns and villages in the vicinity, and has besides some nourishing manufactures of its own. Its inhabitants are almost exclusively Christian. The people are chiefly employed in the production of embroidered dresses, and in carving in a beautiful way mother-of-pearl. I hear that they are an intelligent and industrious people, and that there are plenty of schools for the children. The women are said to be fair, but I see none such. On our way back we are shown the Field of the Shepherds, sloping up a neighbouring hill. It was there the angel of the Lord appeared to them as they watched their sheep by night. We pass by also the Pools of Solomon – three reservoirs made by the great King for supplying the inhabitants of Jerusalem with water. All the country round is a scene of great activity, as is evident from the enormous amount of terraces to be seen everywhere planted with the universal olive-tree. But at this time we see nothing but stones, with here and there a few black goats climbing the mountain-sides; all life seems to have withered up under the scorching sun. The Wells of Solomon contain no water, the hills no sign of vegetation. They are dry, and so are we.
On the whole, after my visit to Bethlehem, I quite agree with an American writer – the Rev. Mr. Tompkins – in his remarks on the church built by the Empress Helena. While vast, imposing, and suggestive of past glory, it is a fitting monument of that kind of Christianity which, let us hope, is relegated to the past. No instance of an enormous expensive building could show more clearly the folly of erecting to God that which has no earthly use. Unless men can see in future ages that Christianity is for man, and not for God, I fancy that religion will perish from the earth. To-day one stands in this edifice, which in point of size is justly comparable with any church in the world, and wonders what rash folly ever possessed the Empress to waste so much money. It is so dreary, so cold, so deserted, so utterly the shell of Christianity, that Christianity seems a very farce right here where it began.
CHAPTER XII
THE JEW IN JERUSALEM
One of the most interesting evenings I spent in Jerusalem was in listening to a lecture by Dr. Wheeler, of the English Hospital in the city, who is now seeking to build a hospital for the Jews there. He is also, I believe, connected with the London Society which is seeking to bring over the Jew to the knowledge of the Messiah, a task by no means easy, as the conviction of the Jew – that the promised Messiah is yet to come – is not easily to be dispelled. I came over with a converted Jew – a clergyman in London. His parents, who were wealthy, lived in Jerusalem. In order to become a Christian he had to sacrifice all his worldly prospects, and aroused such bitter enmity on the part of his relatives that, though he had made the journey for the sake of seeing his dying mother, he almost despaired of an interview, and had to wait five days before his object was achieved.
But to return to Dr. Wheeler. He has been at work in Jerusalem eleven years, and his knowledge of the state of the Jews is profound. The Jews, he told us, in Palestine may be roughly divided into four classes: The Ashkenazim, comprising the fair-haired, sallow German Jew, the Russian, Polish, American, etc., who speak Yiddish, and enjoy the protection of the consuls of the countries to which they belong; the Sephardim, or Spanish Jews, many of whom still wear the black turban imposed on them by the mad Caliph Halim; the Gemenites, who have only recently come to the land – they are dark, and wear their hair in side-curls; and the Karaites, a sect which sprang up about the eighth century. These reject the Talmud and deny the authority of the Oral Law; they are few in number, and have but one small synagogue; the orthodox religious Jews have no religious intercourse with them, and regard them as heretics. The Ashkenazim adapt themselves to any costume. The Sephardim all wear the dignified and beautiful Oriental costume. All unite in wearing the love-locks. As to the women, they all dress in Oriental costume, and wear their heads covered. On the Sabbath they are all dressed in their best. Charms are worn on the heads and foreheads and necks of young children, and a sprig of green is worn also as a charm against the evil eye. The Rabbis generally wear long flowing robes, trimmed with fur, and also a turban.
Specially-appointed Rabbis see that the food is properly prepared, as everything must be kosha, or legally clean. Milk must not be taken before or after meat. No Christian food on any account may be consumed; even eggs cooked in Christian pots are refused. Only Jewish wine may be drunk, and if a bottle of it is only touched by a Christian it becomes unclean. The social and religious life of the Jew is identical. The birth of a son causes great rejoicing, and improves the social status of the mother. Circumcision on the eighth day, if the child is strong enough, is a holy festival. After eighteen all Jews are expected to marry. Although facilities of divorce are large, they are not often resorted to.
One is struck, said Dr. Wheeler, in living among Jews, with the fact that religion amongst them is not only a creed or an act of observance, but that it pervades every relationship and dominates every phase of life. The Sabbath is the pivot round which family life moves. It is a day of real rejoicing, accompanied by a complete suspension of work. It begins with the cup of blessing, of wine mixed with water, of which all partake. The Sabbath lamp is lit. No burial is allowed on that day. No phylacteries are worn while the Cohenites give the Aaronic blessing – ‘The Lord bless thee and keep thee,’ etc. Visiting the sick has great merit. According to the Talmud, eleven visits to the sick will release a soul from Gehenna. All are enjoined to follow funerals, and to pay honour to the remains of the dead. After death the body is allowed to remain awhile unburied. The creed of the Jew is as ancient as the beginning of history. With it are connected the triumphs and struggles and defeats of ages. What strange and opposite feelings has the name of Jew created! What appalling deeds have been perpetrated in connection with his name! The Jew is in every sense, as Dr. Wheeler eloquently told us, the marvel of history – the wonder of the ages – the anomaly of nations. So it has been for upwards of 4,000 years. He is Heaven’s great witness on earth of earth’s righteous King in heaven. Nations have risen and fallen. Mighty empires have crumbled to decay. Assyria, Greece, Carthage, where are they? Yet the Jew – scattered, despised, persecuted, and trampled under foot – has never disappeared. Nay, more, he has risen to be a light and guide to the nations; and many are the statesmen and artists and philosophers who have had Jewish blood in their veins. And yet, say certain good people, the Jews are under a curse. Well, perhaps they are – when poor. Poor people, it seems to me, are under a curse all the world over. To the Jews, Jerusalem is the one holy city, and here they come to die and be buried in its sacred soil. Wealthy Jews in all parts of the world give freely for charity and for charitable purposes, and it is this wealth that brings so many poor Jews to Jerusalem. By these benefactors Jewish children are educated gratuitously. They have three synagogues, all very ancient, and the beautiful pale-green dome of one of them is a conspicuous feature in the view of Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives. Jews, because they persecuted the Christ, are not allowed to pass before the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. They are also still rigorously excluded from the Moslem sanctuary, where it is said stood King Solomon’s Temple in all its glory, though Christians have been admitted of late years to this jealously-guarded spot, containing as it does the Dome of the Rock – a very precious spot in Moslem eyes. Alas! everywhere the Jew in Jerusalem has to come in contact with ‘the pig of a Turk,’ as he contemptuously calls him. I wonder the wealthy Jews do not buy Jerusalem or Palestine itself of the Sultan, who, however, does all he can to keep the Jews from returning there to live and die. Notwithstanding the place it fills in the world’s history, the country is a small one. As it is, the Jews in Jerusalem have the greater part of the trade of the city in their hands. They own the shops and the cabs, and their numbers increase every day, very much, as I have said, against the wishes of the Sultan himself.
It is an awful history, that of the Jew in Jerusalem, of incessant revolt on the part of the people, of incessant conquest and massacre on the part of the sanguinary conquerors. Again and again the Jew seemed on the brink of extermination. Nebuchadnezzar, Antiochus, Titus, Hadrian, successively exerted their utmost power to extinguish, not merely the political existence of the State, but even the separate being of the people. Hadrian, to annihilate for ever, writes Dean Milman, all hopes of the restoration of the Jewish kingdom, accomplished his plan of founding a new city on the site of Jerusalem, peopled by a colony of foreigners. The city was called Ælia Capitolina: Ælia after the prænomen of the Emperor, Capitolina as dedicated to the Jupiter of the Capitol. An edict was published to prevent any Jew from entering the new city under pain of death, or approaching its environs even at a distance so as to contemplate its sacred height. More effectually to keep them away, the image of a swine was placed over the gate leading to Bethlehem. The more peaceful Christians were permitted to establish themselves within the walls, and Ælia became the seat of a flourishing church and bishopric. At a later period Julian the Apostate – as the ecclesiastical writers term one of the noblest men who ever wore the imperial purple – embraced the extraordinary design of rebuilding the Temple of Jerusalem. In a public epistle to the nation or community of the Jews, he pities their misfortunes, condemns their oppressors, praises their constancy, declares himself their gracious protector, and hopes, after his return from the Persian war, he may be permitted to pay his grateful vows to the Almighty in the holy city of Jerusalem. The Jews from every part of the world gave freely to assist this pious enterprise. According to the Christian writers, Heaven interfered, and the Temple was left unbuilt. This glorious deliverance was speedily improved by the pious art of the clergy of Jerusalem and the active credulity of the Christian world. It is evident, as Gibbon remarks, the restoration of the Jewish Temple was secretly connected with the ruin of the Christian Church, a Church for which Julian had little love. From the confessions of Jerome himself, Jerusalem seemed saturated with every form of vice and crime.
They tell me the Jew is blind because he is waiting for the coming Messiah, but, I ask, are we not all waiting for a coming Messiah? And the sooner He comes the better for all of us, Jew and Gentile alike. If the Jew is waiting for a coming Messiah, that is surely to his credit – that he remains true to the teaching of his fathers – and shows him to be no more blind than those of us who piously await the dawn of a millennium, which, according to all human appearances, seems as far off as ever. When the Turkish Empire breaks up, it will be no easy matter how to settle in whose hands Jerusalem shall be placed. There may be a terrible fight about the Holy City yet.
It is now the fashion for everyone to rush to Jerusalem. At one time to go there required no little expenditure of money, and time, and trouble. An excursion-steamer takes you there for a trifle compared with the expense of the journey only a few years ago. You land at Jaffa, take the train to Jerusalem, and in due time find yourself outside the Jaffa Gate, guarded by Turkish soldiers. Amidst a dirty, many-coloured mob of donkeys, camels, and people, exhausted by the heat, suffocated by the dust, and bewildered by the noise, you are at the Holy City, as lying superstition terms it. It certainly is not Jerusalem the golden, but is very much the reverse. Its smells are indescribable, and to drink its water is death. Your first wonder is why David and Solomon should ever have made it a royal residence at all. It is a city set upon a hill, but it is dominated by hills all round, where no verdure is seen, and where the black goat alone finds a scanty existence. Climb one of these hills, and you look down on the gray, stony city, surrounded by a high wall, over which rise minarets, and mosques, and church spires in wild confusion. There is nothing to charm the eye there. Enter through one of the gates, and you are still more disappointed. You wander in hopeless confusion, shut in on all sides by lofty buildings, with no windows to speak of, only here and there a door; or you plunge into a street with a dark awning, which serves as a bazaar, with shops of all kinds around, where so dense is the crowd that it is with difficulty you make your way. Poverty seems to be the prevailing characteristic of the place. Even the shops fail to attract.
Money is the one thing Jerusalem sucks in as a thirsty soul does water when it comes, and many well-meaning people find there a living prepared for them who would otherwise have to starve. As to the real state of the people you never hear a word. The Turkish tax-gatherer may grind them down. The wild Bedouin of the desert may come and take what the tax-gatherer has left. But you hear nothing of that, and the daily topic of conversation among the European settlers is the repetition of dogma and the fulfilment of prophecy. It is not till you have cleared out, taken the rail to Jaffa, and sail along the blue waters of the Mediterranean, that you get rid of the nightmare, have done with cant, and once more breathe free.
The fact is, the Holy City is one gigantic fraud. All we know is that there Christ lived and laboured and suffered and died. Not a stone remains of the Jerusalem over whose impending fate He shed bitter tears. The cunning of an interested priesthood has done all the rest, from the discovery of the true cross by the mother of Constantine, to the holy fire which is seen at Easter by a panting, perspiring crowd in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. The town itself covers an area of more than 209 acres, of which thirty-five are occupied by the Haram-esh-Sherif. The remaining space is occupied by Christians, Mohammedans, and Jews.
The Greek Church is the strongest branch of the Christians in Jerusalem, having eighteen monasteries, with schools, churches, a hospital, hospice, and a printing press. The Russian church on the Mount of Olives is the grandest ecclesiastical building in the city of the modern type. The Roman Catholics have fine churches, monasteries, and convents. The Armenian Patriarch resides in his convent between the Jaffa and Zion gates. The Latins, Abyssinians, and Copts are also well represented. The Knights Templars of the Holy Sepulchre, a Roman Catholic body under the patronage of the Emperor of Austria, have a fine convent just outside the walls. Priests, and nuns, and sisters of mercy, and devotees, meet you at every turn.
One ought to go to Jerusalem if only to see what priests can build up on small foundations, and to what length superstition can be carried, even in what are termed days of light and progress. In this respect the Turk is as great a sinner as the Christian, and tells you how at the resurrection the risen will have to cross the Valley of Jehosaphat by a bridge of the Prophet’s hair, from which the wicked will fall straight to Gehenna, while to the righteous heaven, with its houris, will open its diamond gates. You see in Jerusalem what you see nowhere else, a city built up by religion, true or false.
In a letter from the Rev. Ben Oliel to a friend, he says:
‘You want to know what is (1) the actual population of Jerusalem; (2) the Jewish population in it; and (3) the number of Jews in all Palestine.
‘The Turkish Government, like that of other lands, has its statistical “bureau” – office; but whatever may be its success in the European provinces of the empire, here in Asia its computations are believed to be imperfect, unreliable, and mainly guesswork. The conscription and consequent tax for exemption from military service operate against it. The heads of the several religious communities – Turkish or Moslem, Jewish, Latin, Greek, Armenian, Copt, Maronite, Melchite, etc. – who co-operate in the census, have powerful motives to frustrate exactitude, for it means a larger annual taxation, for which they are made responsible; and, apart from this, the inhabitants have strong prejudices against being numbered. Therefore, all estimates of population are merely approximate, and nothing more.
‘A young Jew of the highest family in this city, who is employed in offices of trust in the Pasha’s court and has access to official records, a convert of this mission, who confessed his faith in the Lord Jesus on October 27, tells me that in official circles the population of Jerusalem, including its suburbs – Bethlehem, Bethany, the Mount of Olives, etc. – is now computed at 100,000, of which 60,000 are believed to be Jews; and he declares my estimate of the general population of Jerusalem and its immediate suburbs at from 65,000 to 70,000, and the Jewish at about 40,000, to be far too low. He is custodian of the roll of the Sephardim poor – widows, orphans, blind and decrepit old men and their families – amounting to 7,000 souls, that have to be provided for regularly; and yet the Ashkenazim constitute the majority of the Jewish inhabitants of Jerusalem now, and they have a roll of poor as large proportionately. He says the Sephardim pay £1,000 annually for exemption from military service, and the Ashkenazim £1,250, which, at the rate of two medjidis per head, represents 5,625 men of the age liable to service. Jewish families are prolific, and must therefore be calculated at seven rather than five per family, and if one in each family is liable to service, the result is 39,375 souls. But this has reference to the Jewish rayahs– Turkish subjects; whereas there is a large admixture of those under Russian, Austrian, German, etc., protection, who are free from taxation, military or other. By such a process of reasoning his estimate of 60,000 Jews for Jerusalem is almost proved mathematically.
‘I have before me Luncz’s First Hebrew Almanack for the Jewish year 1895–96, an interesting compilation; it gives the population of Jerusalem thus: “Number of inhabitants 45,420, of which Jews 28,112 (viz., Ashkenazim 15,074, Sephardim 7,900, Mughrabim 2,420, Gurgis 670, Bucharis 530, Tamanites 1,288, Persians 230); Moslems 8,560; Christians 8,748 (viz., Armenians 695, Greeks 4,625, Abyssinians 105, Syrians 23, Protestants 645, Catholics or Latins 2,530, Copts 125).” He does not say so, but he can only mean the population inside the walls.’
As an illustration of the difficulties awaiting the Jew who is led to renounce Judaism, I quote from a convert’s letter a few particulars:
‘I will briefly say that I commenced the journey of life in Jerusalem as son of one of the first Jewish families that found their way back to the fatherland. According to the custom of our people, my dear mother sent me to school when I was only two. I sat at the feet of our Rabbi school-teachers until I was twelve; then I studied the Rabbis’ commentaries and had an Arab tutor. At thirteen years of age I entered the Seraya, or Government House of Jerusalem. I studied to be an Arabic and Turkish scribe, and attended the Jewish school to learn French.
‘In the Government House there are three judges appointed to represent respectively the Christian, Jewish, and Moslem citizens. My uncle is the Jewish judge. At sixteen I became one of the scribes of the Chief Justice, and two years ago his assistant secretary.
‘When I used to visit Jaffa I heard about Mr. Ben Oliel from many Jews who frequented his house for discussion and study of God’s Word. In 1890 he came up to Jerusalem, and at last I met him. The first time that I called upon him I was in company with my father, my uncle the judge, the son of the Chief Rabbi, and another Rabbi, one of the judges of the Jewish Court.
‘The Chief Rabbi appoints twelve judges, who each serve a term of three months every year, and every dispute between Jews must first be brought before them, and, if needs be, is referred by them to the Turkish Court.’
In time the writer became a Christian and was baptized. He adds:
‘It was my desire to get the training that would make me a good Christian teacher, but I could not travel without a passport, and could not get this except through the application of my father, who, instead, gave strict orders that no passport should be made for me. After a year of vain endeavour, I was able to persuade a friend who was in the office where they are written, on the score of friendship, to give me a tishcara, or local passport, which, however, he did not dare to record; off in the country it served me well. My plan was to start on a trip through the country and seize any opportunity that might offer of getting to Egypt. I started from the Damascus Gate, my faithful horse being my only companion. We travelled first to Nablous, the ancient Sichem, and finding that the Samaritans were soon to keep their passover, I waited to see their celebrated sacrifice. Each family took a lamb, and they went out and pitched their tents on Mount Gerizim before the tomb of Sichem, the son of Hamor, whom they hold in great reverence, and camped out there for eight days. On the first day their high-priest sacrificed a lamb for each family, and every day he himself mixed the unleavened cakes. Leaving Nablous, I struck across country till I came to an Arab village on the Jordan, and then followed its course until I came to Tiberias. Along this part of the country many of the villagers knew me, and wherever I was acquainted they entertained me freely with their proverbial hospitality. At one Bedouin encampment they insisted on roasting an entire sheep. This they did in a very primitive fashion. They dug a ditch in the earth, and made fire within it until it was very hot, and then, removing the fire, they laid the lamb, well seasoned, on the hot ashes, and then buried it for a couple of hours. It then made a very savoury dish, of which we all partook, dipping into the same dish.
‘Tiberias is one of the four sacred cities of the Jews, and there I found a large number residing. It is also a favourite resort because of its hot springs of healing qualities. I had left Jerusalem almost ill, and so was very glad to take a course of baths here.
‘From Tiberias I journeyed towards Nazareth, and visited the Tomb of Jethro, near the horns of Hassau, where probably our Lord preached His wondrous Sermon on the Mount. At Nazareth I was hospitably entertained at the Latin Convent, and a priest showed me all the sights of the town. Next day 400 or 500 French pilgrims arrived, and I shared their entertainment.
‘After three days I resumed my journey, with the intention of embarking at Haifa and passing on to Egypt without being seen at Jaffa.’
And in due time the writer made his escape, and was welcomed in America, mainly owing to the assistance of Mr. Ben Oliel, who had been the means of his conversion.