Although always in the hearts and minds of the Jewish people, until the mid-19th century, persecution, violence, massacres, and the political and security situation in the Land of Israel kept Jerusalem’s Jewish community relatively small.
Things began to change at the turn of the 19th century, due to a combination of political factors, including the Capitulations—treaties signed by the Ottoman Empire and European countries, giving citizens of European countries legal protection and financial immunity throughout the Ottoman Empire. By the middle of the 19th century, this protection was extended to Jews immigrating to the Land of Israel.
Many Jews saw an opportunity to fulfill their lifelong dreams and set out for the Holy Land. Within half a century, the Jewish population more than tripled, growing from 5,000 to over 17,000 by 1856. About 6,000 of them lived in Jerusalem.1
Growth and Overcrowding in the Old City
Many new arrivals, seeking spirituality and holiness, chose Jerusalem as their destination. Though they found a vibrant religious life, the living conditions were far from comfortable.
At the time, all of Jerusalem’s residents lived inside the walls of the Old City, crowded into tiny houses built around narrow courtyards. Poverty was everywhere. Food was especially scarce in times of drought. The sanitary facilities were insufficient, and hygiene was poor. As a result, epidemics struck the residents on a regular basis, spreading quickly and claiming many lives.
Despite the poor living conditions, the Arab landlords demanded exorbitant rents from their Jewish tenants, taking advantage of the high demand. The leaders and visionaries in Jerusalem’s Jewish community knew that eventually, the city would have to expand, but that prospect was daunting:
If one were to peer beyond the walls of Jerusalem in 1850, he would behold almost utter bareness on every side, stretching as far as the eye could see. Silwan (Shiloach) to the south had a small, semi-nomadic Arab population numbering a couple of hundred. Way off to the west was the village of Ein Kerem, with a monastery in its midst. Other than that, the rest of the view from the city walls showed a few small parcels of land farmed by local Arabs, producing grapes, olives and the like. Besides a few trees, the entire landscape was nothing but stones, thorns, and thistles.2
The area outside the city walls was not simply empty, it was dangerous. Marauding Bedouin bands often passed through, robbing innocent travelers. Wild animals roamed the area, especially at night. For the residents’ own protection, the Ottoman administration locked Jerusalem’s gates every evening until the following morning.
As the city’s population continued to increase due to Jewish immigration from Europe, the overcrowding and unsanitary conditions became unbearable, but no one was brave enough to take the next step of moving outside the city walls. Most Jerusalemites thought the idea was simply not realistic.
Sir Moses Montefiore
Wealthy British financier and philanthropist, Sir Moses Montefiore, was not one to take no for an answer. In 1827, at the age of 43, together with his wife, Judith, he visited the Land of Israel for the first time. Profoundly affected by what he saw, he devoted much of his time and considerable resources to improving the lives of Jews living in the Land.
The Montefiores opened their hearts to all needy Jews, but they were not satisfied with simply giving out money that would be immediately spent on basic necessities. They wanted to do something lasting that would drastically improve the situation by providing opportunities for local Jews to support themselves for generations to come.
Books have been written on the Montefiores’ charitable deeds, including building schools, setting up the textile industry, and purchasing agricultural land for use by Jewish farmers. But for the purposes of this article, we will focus on Sir Montefiore’s vision of expanding Jerusalem beyond the city walls and his work that brought the vision to fruition.
Judah Touro’s legacy
Another benefactor of Jerusalem’s Jewish community was American Jewish businessman and philanthropist, Judah Touro. A merchant and shipper based in New Orleans, Touro never married, lived simply, and spent most of his wealth helping others. He donated generously to both Jewish and non-Jewish causes.
During the last year of his life, Touro wrote a will, in which he bequeathed most of his fortune to causes that would strengthen Jewish life in America and the Holy Land. He specifically designated $60,000 “to ameliorate the condition of our unfortunate Jewish Brethren in the Holy Land and to secure to them the inestimable privilege of worshipping the Almighty according to our religion, without molestation.”3
Sir Montefiore was tasked with distributing the Touro legacy for the benefit of the Jewish community, and originally intended to use the funds to build a hospital right outside Jerusalem’s city walls. Jerusalem’s residents were in desperate need of a hospital, and Montefiore thought that it would be a good first step.
He immediately ran into obstacles in his attempts to coordinate the project from his home in England—primarily the need to obtain permits from the Ottomans in order to buy and build upon land—and decided to oversee the project in person.
He set out in 1855, stopping in Constantinople on the way. There, he met with high Ottoman officials. Though the officials had their reservations about allowing Jews to own land, Grand Vizier Ali Pasha acknowledged that Montefiore’s efforts were “solely for the desire to make a service to humanity, and [that] since the hospital that he has requested a license for will be dedicated to the poor, it will be considered as charity, [so] there does not seem to be any harm in it.”4
Montefiore secured an audience with the Sultan, who accepted his vizier’s advice and granted permission to purchase a plot of land outside Jerusalem’s walls for charitable purposes. Armed with the necessary authorization, Montefiore proceeded to Jerusalem.
Upon his arrival, Montefiore was greeted with great honor and appreciation by the local Jewish community. He also met with the Muslim governor, who treated him with respect and ordered his guards to present arms.
He soon encountered another hurdle, however. The land he wanted to purchase belonged to the previous governor of Jerusalem, Ahmed Aga Dizdar. Montefiore had formed a friendly relationship with Dizdar during his previous visits, and Dizdar received him warmly.
When Montefiore brought up the plot of land, Dizdar responded, “My dear, beloved friend, I received this land as an inheritance from my forefathers, and in no way am I willing to part with it for any sum of money. But for you, I shall give it as a present.”5
Montefiore was familiar enough with the local culture to recognize that Dizdar’s words did not mean a thing without a signed contract. For days, he visited Dizdar, trying to move the transaction forward and getting nowhere. Each time, Dizdar would offer another excuse for postponing this deal.6 “No one can possibly express the vexation I feel here,” Montefiore wrote in his diary.
Finally, Dizdar announced to the translator, “My friend, I swear by the hair on my head, that if Sir Moses would give me a thousand pounds sterling as a gift, I am prepared to go with him now to the kadi [judge].”
Montefiore immediately handed Dizdar a thousand pounds, and after they both went to the authorities and signed all the relevant paperwork in the presence of witnesses, the “gift exchange” was finally completed. Sir Moses Montefiore thus became the first Jew in modern times to legally own land outside of Jerusalem’s city walls.
The plot of land, 38,000 square meters (just about two acres), was located right opposite Mount Zion. The first thing Montefiore built was a stone wall around the whole area, to protect it from marauding bands. It took forty Jewish laborers two weeks to complete. Afterward, Montefiore held a dedication, placing the cornerstone himself.
Though the original plan had been to build a hospital, Montefiore discovered that another Jewish philanthropist family, the Rothschilds, had recently built a hospital within the city walls. Since the need for a hospital was no longer pressing, after consulting with local community leaders, Montefiore decided to use the newly purchased land to build houses for Jerusalem’s poor. He also wanted to provide the poor with a means to earn a living.
Windmill
Coming from the seaside town of Ramsgate, Kent, in southeastern England, Montefiore was accustomed to windmills, then seen as the most efficient and economical way to produce flour. When Montefiore became aware of the high cost of flour in Jerusalem, he came up with a plan: He would build a windmill on the newly acquired land outside the city walls.
The windmill would not only make flour more affordable but would also provide jobs for Jerusalem’s poor. Wanting to give Jews an opportunity to enter the flour market, he spared no effort or money to build the most sophisticated windmill possible.
Upon his return to England, Montefiore commissioned two brothers, Kent natives Thomas and John Holman, to build the turbine. The machinery was constructed in England and brought to the Holy Land by boat. In December 1858 The Illustrated London News reported:
Great difficulty was experienced in landing the machinery at Jaffa, the landing-stage there not being strong enough to bear it. Each piece had to be dragged ashore by about forty men. Four months were occupied in conveying it whence to Jerusalem, on the backs of camels, the road not being passable to carriages of any description. All difficulties were, however, finally overcome, and the machinery was fixed without loss or breakage of any portion.7
The fifty-foot tower of the windmill, with its three-foot-thick walls, was built of local stone. “All the modern improvements have been introduced in this mill,” reported the newspaper article.8
The local Arabs were not happy:
During the course of its construction, it was looked upon with an evil eye by the millers there, and one of their head men was sent to curse it … The poor Jews, however, for whose use and benefit the mill was erected, are loud in their praises of their benefactor, Sir Moses Montefiore.9
Despite its technological sophistication, in the long run, the windmill was not successful. Montefiore and his engineers failed to take into account the fact that the climate in Jerusalem was very different from the climate in Kent. The steady strong winds from the sea that operated Kent’s windmills were non-existent in Jerusalem, which was too far from the coast. The windmill was also difficult to maintain, because all spare parts had to be shipped from England.
The windmill operated till about 1876. For decades, it remained unused. Eventually, it was restored, and today the windmill remains one of Jerusalem’s popular landmarks.
Mishkenot Sha’ananim
The rest of the land purchased by Montefiore was used for building homes for Jerusalem’s poor. The new neighborhood was called Mishkenot Sha’ananim, Serene Dwellings, and is still known by the same name.
Montefiore hired English architect J. William Smith to design the building. In 1859, once the construction was in full swing, the new governor of Jerusalem, Mustafa Sureyya, reported to the sultan that the building violated military regulations and breached the conditions of the sultan’s original authorization:
The houses that he is going to construct seem like a small quarter, and if they are built without a special permit, there will be nothing left to say to those who want to build houses outside the walls.10
The British consul in Jerusalem, James Finn, defended Montefiore’s project, and eventually, the sultan gave Montefiore permission to continue building, instructing Sureyya not to interfere again, “because this man is from among persons whose influence on the state of England are considerable.”11
In 1861, the new neighborhood was completed. It consisted of sixteen two-room homes with gardens, two synagogues—one Ashkenazic and one Sephardic—and an innovative water pump that quickly became the neighborhood’s attraction.
There was one problem, however. No one was brave enough to move into the new apartments. Despite Montefiore’s offer of free rent to “persons of excellent character, men well learned in our Law, who devote much of their time to study,”12 the Jews of Jerusalem were terrified at the prospect of spending a night outside the security of the city walls.
Montefiore refused to give up on his vision. He offered to pay his tenants. Several families agreed to give the neighborhood a try. They would spend the days in their new homes but return to the safety of the walled city at night. Their fears were well-founded. Two of the new residents were murdered in Bedouin attacks.
On the other hand, life within the city walls had its own dangers. After an 1865 cholera epidemic claimed lives within the city but left the new neighborhood untouched, the residents of Jerusalem began to rethink their initial hesitation.
By the time Montefiore visited the neighborhood in 1866, he found it populated and thriving. He wrote in his diary, “These secure houses are highly regarded among the citizens of the city. Many wish to stay there for a spell and recover their health … How clearly do we see the benefits of building more housing projects for the poor outside the walled city.”13 That year, another cornerstone was laid for four more houses in the new neighborhood.
Since then, many other neighborhoods have been built, greatly expanding the city to its current size of more than 100 square miles.
And yet, visitors to Jerusalem can still enjoy a visit to the humble neighborhood with a towering windmill where it all began.
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