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»■ . ' ' ; '♦ 



JERUSALEM AND HS ENTIROXS. 



THE fJPnr yoRif 



T'O 






JERUSALEM AND ITS ENVIRONS; 



o». 



The Holy City as it Was and Is. 

BT THB 

REV. W. K. VwEEDIE, D.D., 

AuyMT of " BiYWi md Uk« of tE Bible," "S««l Time md tUrTart,** ; 



«* dM dlwrovncd 8«1«« on h«r rocky th r o— 
Wkkw'd, y«i nfKl. woo her oalj downr ; 



Where are her oliToe t where her emblem |Nilm f 

Her iirophet-heroe*, onea the world's high lerdn f 

And where the Temple whieh her wiu embalm 

In their deep heortt r^-Dowo-trod bj Moalem horde*." />. 



PUBLISHED BY THB AMEBIC A3? ^ RAO t 80Cl&ft%: 
S8 CORNHILL* BOSTON. ' ' 



fX^- 



THE NEW YORK 
PUBLi: L Sr.ARY 


792076 A 

ASTOR, LJNOX AND 

Tli-Di.M FOUiNiJAHONS 

K 1935 L 



PREFACK 



Jerusalem and the Holy Land appear to be nearly as ex- 
haustless to the traveller as the Scriptures to the critic. In 
both, things new and old He in close juxtaposition. In both, 
the careful student mil find much to reward his scrutiny, 
even though it amount to toil ; and in both, he who even 
only skims the surface, will see much to gladden his heart, 
or to increase his faith. Volume upon volume may be pub- 
lished on the subject, and they may vary much in value, 
from the sketchy pages which describe a " Three Weeks' 
Tour," to the rich and elaborate volumes of the American 
Professor, Dr. Robinson. But each brings some new contri- 
bution to the cause of Syrian discovery and scriptural illus- 
tration, insomuch that we do not know a book upon the 
subject that would not repay even a careful perusal. 

There is one defect, however, which attaches to nearly all 
these publications upon Palestine. The tours which they 
describe were too often hurried and superficial. At a few 
points the remark applies even to the labours of Dr. Robin- 
son. Wonders were but half observed, or new features were 
but half explored, for want of time. A steamer was waiting 
in some bay, and the traveller must hasten on ; or friends 
were impatient at some rendezvous, and precious opportu- 
nities must be lost; or danger was dreaded, and despatch 
was therefore imperative. Now, such things might often be 



Vi PREFACE. 

inevitable in the circumstances which arose ; but that con- 
ceded, the Holy Land surely deserves the most leisurely sur- 
vey ; it would surely still repay something more prolonged 
than a rapid march along the usual well-trodden routes, to bo 
thereafter forthwith forsaken for ever. Many Scripture 
places yet remain to be identified, and were a protracted 
sojourn to be made, instead of a rapid ride, more would 
soon be known at once of the Capital and the Country. 
Some travellers have boasted that they had " done" Jeru- 
salem in a few hours,— that is, they had seen the interior of 
the Church of the Sepulchre, and the exterior of the Mosque ; 
they had walked along the Via Dolorosa— hurried out to 
Gethsemane— ascended the Mount of Olives, and then nearly 
all was over I It has been the same in other parts of Pales* 
tine, and, no doubt, at some places real danger demands 
despatch. The Land of the Book, however, will never be 
(lU known till travellers are free, or take time, to explore it 
calmly, leisurely, and long. It may be tolerably known at 
present, but it will become more familiar then, and each 
addition to our knowledge will be a new help to our faith. 
The solemn lessons of the Holy Land will become more 
impressive by being more distinct, and that Land will nobly 
comment upon the Book, while the Book in its turn sheds 
imperishable glories on the Land. 

The Chapters which follow are designed to describe some 
.of the scenes which gladden the traveller there, and in con- 
jiection with these, to explain the secret of that power which 
Palestine exercises even over those who tread its glories in 
-the dust It is well called " The Land of the Book •" but 
.better, " The Land of the Saviour." That links it for ever 
U> tlie heart of millions. 



CONTENTS. 



JBBUSALBK. 

PhOT 

Jortunloin, ••• ••• ••• •••«•• m* 9 

The Monnt of Oliver ... ... ... m. ••• 18 

The Garden of GetbMmanei .m .m •« ••• t7 

Mount Morlab, ... ... ••• «• m* 94 

The Gates of Jeniaalem, ... ••• .m ••• S7 

The Jaffa Gate and the Tower of Dadd, ••• ... m. 44 

The Valley of Jehoshaphat, ..• ... .m ••• 45 

Tombs in the Valley, ... ••• m« .m .m 48 

The Tombs of the Kings, ... ... .m •^ 83 

The Pool of Siloam, ... ... .^ .m .m 88 

Mount ZIon, ... ... ••• .•• m« m* 89 

The Valley of Gihon, ... ... ••• .«• ... 68 

The Church of the Holy Sepnlchre^ •.• .^ •- 71 

The Via Dolorosa, ... ..• ... m« •m 68 

The Walling-placeofthe JewB» ••• •.• ••• ••• 87 

The Mosque of Omar, ... ••• ••• ••• ••• 99 

Tlie Pool of Bethesda, ... ... ••• ••• •«• 96 

Jerusalem Under-ground, ... - ••• ... m« 91 

Conclusion. ... ... ••• ' ••• - ... - ••• 100 

THB BNYIBONS OF JEBUSALEK. 

EzcmuiON L— 

The Mount of Ollres, ... ••• ... — 107 

Tlie View to the West, ... .^ ... •» 118 



viii 



CONTENTS. 



Put 
ExcuBsioxr IL-* 

Bethany. ,,4 

Bethphage, ... .^ 118 

EXCDBSION III.— 

The Convent Of Saint Saba, ... „. ,„ ,,, 12O 

Ezccssioxr IV.— 

The Plains of Jericho, ... ... ... ,„ 125 

The Fords of the Jordan— Bathing, ... .^. .., 137 

ExcTJBSiON v.— 

The Dead Sea, „ I43 

Arab Marriage Music, from the Dead Sea, ... „. 152 

EZCITBSION VL — 

NeblSamwil— (Mlipah?), ... ... ... ... leo 

Bethel, 169 

EXCUBSIOM VII.— 

Raraleh, ... ... .„ ... .„ lyj 

EXCUKSION VIIL— 

Bethlehem, ... ... ... ... ... ig^ 

The Church of the Nativity, Bethlehem, ... ... 194 

ExcuBSioir IX— 

Solomon*s Pools and Gardens, ... ... ... 199 

The Fix>ka amd thb Fauna of the Holt Land— 

1. The Flora, ... ... ... ... ... 206 

2. The Fauna, ... ... ... ... ... 211 

ThbCbusadbs, ... ... ... ... ... 2U 

COVCLUSION, ... ... ... ... ... ... 221 



JERUSALEM. 



Volumes might easily be compiled from the raptures, 
real or fictitious, recorded by those who have visited 
Jerusalem, when thej saw it for the first tima A 
single specimen maj suffice for all: ''As I looked,** 
this traveller writes — " as I looked, before me, in all 
their glory and nugesty, I beheld, magnificent in the 
light of the setting sun, the walls of Jerusalem. I had 
thought of that moment for years, in waking and in 
sleeping dreama I had asked myself a hundred times 
* What will you do when your weary eyes rest on these 
holy walls?* Sometimes I thought I should cry out 
aloud as did pilgrims of old, sometimes that I should 
kneel down on the road as did the valiant men who 
marched with Godfrey and with Richard; but I did 
neither. 

" My horse stopped on the road, as if he knew that 
all our haste had been for this, and I murmured to 
myself Detu vult, and my eyes filled with tears, and 
through them I gazed at the battlements, and towers, 
and minarets of the city. One by one the party rode 



10 JEBITSALEM. 

up^ and each in succession paused.** All alike— some 
Mohammedans, a monk, some Armenians, a Jew, and 
some Protestants— "gazed with overflowing eyes on 
that spot toward which the longing hearts of so many 
millions of the human race turn daily with devout 
affection. We spoke no word aloud. One rushing wave 
of thought swept over all our souls." 

Now, one can acquiesce in the idea that soim kind of 
emotion might be common to all these wayfarers in 
such a case, but it could scarcely be called religious- 
it was mere natural excitement; and, moreover, some 
would be sceptical as to the reality of the whole scene. 
That one man or two should be found with copious tears 
at command in such a place would not be wonderful ; but 
that five, at least, should all agree silently, yet in concert, 
to weep in such circumstances, may raise a question 
and a doubt. In that case the scene is got up, and 
must be added to the stock of apocryphal or legendary 
wonders which haunt and hover about Jerusalem, to 
the great pain of the traveller. 

But whether we sympathize with such emotions to 
their full extent, or deem them rather the effects of 
fancy than of aught more enduring, there can be no 
doubt that the hearts of myriads do turn to that 
"widowed city every day that passes, as the exile's heart 
io his home, or as the wandering prodigal turned amid 
his woe to his father's house. Ajud where so much has 
been endured, eiyoyed, and recorded, it may not be easy 
to impart, in any brief compass, a vivid view of the 
whole scene. By dwelling, however, on the salient 
points of the Holy City, some may be enabled to under- 



JEBUSALEM. 11 

stand more clearly the position of places called holy, or 
to eigoy more profoundly the pleasures which Jerusalem 
must ever impart, and impart in greatest abundance to 
the calmest, or most self-contained souL 

Tet it were, perhaps, superfluous to attempt a veiy 
formal description of a dty which has occupied a more 
prominent place in history than Athens with all its 
arts, or Bome with all its arms; than Nineveh with all 
its oyeigrown power, or Babylon with all its nameless 
abominations. It is one of the marvels of Providence, 
that a place comparatively so limited,— politically, for 
the most part, so insignificant, should have helped to 
mould the opinions, to influence the destinies, to ani- 
mate the hopes, and decide the creed of millions upon 
pillions numberless. That dty has held the throne, 
as it first heard the songs of David. It gave law to 
the East, under him and his son. It has been thrilled 
by the words of Isaiah; and, above all, it heard the 
lessons, and perpetrated the death of ^ Him who spoke 
as never man did,** — who " came to his own, and his own 
received him not,**— who held out his hand in mercy to 
save, but who was in return naOed to a tree, there to 
die, " the just for the uiyust.*' Though we were never 
to glance at all at more recent events connected with 
Jerusalem— the Boman conquests, the Crusades, and 
other memorable things, there is more than enough in 
Scripture to rivet our thoughts to that spot— to fix the 
mind upon the city of the Great King, as upon a home, 
a place with which our earliest and our latest associa- 
tions, our deepest sympathies and our highest hopes, 
are all intimately coimected. The very stones and dust 



12 JERUSALEM. 

of that city are dear to us ; and though it be peeled and 
widowed now, that only renders our sympathy the 
closer, our pity the more profound. 

We have referred to Athens and to Rome. But, in 
truth, no one would compare the memories which hover 
round Jerusalem with the associations connected with 
these cities. The actions which the Holy City has 
witnessed, the virtues and the vices, the divine religion 
and the dark superstition, the wars and the peace, the 
wisdom and the follies of Jerusalem, have all been 
unique, and have all possessed a significance such as 
belongs to no other city under the whole, heavens. 
Think for an instant of its religion. " The Desire of 
all nations" was to proceed from that centre. The 
Deliverer, who was destined at length to turn wars into 
peace to the ends of the earth, was to come out of Zion. 
The maxims of that city*s faith, or her creed, though 
local for a time, were in reality, and in destination, 
world-wide; they were to expand, and flower, and bear 
fruit in a system which was fitted to soothe all the 
sorrows, to heal all the wounds, and take away the very 
sins of poor human nature. A marvellous nidus that 1 
Infinite germ, first of truth and then of blessedness! 
Jerusalem on earth becomes the type of the Jerusalem 
that is above ; and the city of our God, the capital of 
the heavenly Canaan, derives one of its most easily 
comprehended titles from the city of the Jews. It is 
called the Kew Jerusalem, and the mother of us alL 

Seeing, then, that even in the eternal world this 
place is in one sense to be perpetuated for ever, our pre- 
sent object is to furnish a brief description of some of 



JBBUSALEIL 13 

the remarkable spots in the Holy City and around it. 
Approaching from the north-west, the trayeller from 
Jaffa, or Joppa, the sea-port of Jerusalem, reaches the 
city oyer the mountains of Bei^jamin, up many rugged 
wadies, and amid many silent, sad remains of the land 
as it was once. Ascent after ascent is dimbed, some- 
times, as we have seen, with intense excitement or 
suspense; and it often happens that only after both 
the mind and the body have been jaded, is the eye 
regaled with the sight of Jerusalem on its throne of 
rock, walled all round, begirt by deep valleys, and 
marked out as the site of a stronghold as much as 
Ehrenbreit-stein, or any other fortress on the margin 
of the Rhine. Nor should we forget that though it 
stands but a few leagues from the sea, the rocks which 
Jerusalem crowns are nearly as high above the ocean 
as the highest land in England. Nebi Samuel, in the 
environs, is 2649 feet, the Mount of Olives is 2398 feet, 
and the dty itself 2200 feet above the level of the sea. 
The highest point in England is about 3100 feet 

The prominence of Mohammedan buildings, the 
mosques, minarets, and crescents, may at first grate 
harshly on thefeelingsof a Christian; but, having calmed 
his disappointment, he can at length scrutinize the city 
and its environs from the north-west approach. Imme- 
diately in front of him is the city itself. If he enter 
from the north by the Damascus Gate, Acra and Mount 
2ion are there ;. the former in front of him, the latter a 
little to his right To the east is Mount Moriah, once 
crowned by the Temple of the litring God, the praise of 
the whole earth, but now by what is termed the Mosque 



14 JEBXTClAXSiH. 

of Omar, the abomination of desolation which has occu- 
pied the holy place for many generationa On the 
north-east lies Bezetha, the fourth of the hills or undula- 
tions which form the site of the city; and, without dwell- 
ing here upon minute details, these four eminences, 
(which, however, like eyerything connected with Jeru- 
salem, have given rise to much antiquarian debate,) 
may suffice to convey an idea of the four general com- 
partments of Jerusalem and its buildings. Acra, we 
repeat, forms the north-west section; and Bezetha, with 
its sparse houses, and somewhat? modem aspect, the 
north-east Mount Moriah is near the centre on the 
east side ; while on the south, Mount Zion, which is 
still reputed the highest in the city, rises conspicuous, 
though not so prominent as of old. 

But few can spend a single hour in Jerusalem with- 
out glancing at least at the green slopes of the Mount 
of Olives, or the modem Jebel-et-Tur. Though its 
height varies as given by different visitors, it may be 
stated at 2398 feet above the level of the sea, and about 
200 higher than the highest point of Mount ZkuL The 
traveller may be haunted hf sceptical thoughts re- 
garding not a few of the places pointed out to his notice 
within the city, while many he cannot but reject with 
some degree of indignation, at what he feels to be an 
attempted imposition. But regarding the Mount of 
Olives, apart from the legends which are linked to it, 
all is genuine and trae. There it stands as it stood of 
old, when David climbed it, ** weeping and barefoot," 
because an unnatural rebellion drove him from Jem- 
salem. These slopes the Saviour, David's son and 



Lord, often crossed on hk way to Beth^y. Xfnder 
olive trees, the predeoessois, perhaps, of some which still 
linger there, though in diminished number, he uttered 
some of his most emphatic lessons ; and there no man, 
whose heart has been touched by the love of the Re- 
deemer, can wander without thinking first, last, and 
evermore of Him " whom, having not seen, we love." 
Here the tie is drawn closer between him and the soul ; 
for thence he returned to his €k>d and our Gk>d, his 
Father and bur Father, enticing our hearts glory-ward 
after him sa he went This invests the Mount with 
charms which do not belong even to Lebanon, to Tabor, 
or to Hermon; and all the lying wonders which crowd 
around Olivet at the bidding of a blind superstition 
can scarcely diminish its attractions. 

If the traveller can stay his eyes from gazing on the 
desolate city, or is not anxious without delay to explore 
the interior, the view from the northern slopes, near 
the summit, may include the distant hills of Moab, to 
the east of the Dead Sea, as that sea itself is partly 
visible from some places on the Mount, depressed as is 
the bed in which the sullen waters lie. These moun- 
tains carry us back in thought to the earliest times of 
the Hebrews, their wars and contendings, their vic- 
tories, their sins and defeats. Under the shadow of 
these very hills thousands were swept into sudden and 
unhonoured graves, because of the gross trespass of 
Baal-peor, (Num. xxv.) And in this manner our very 
first glimpse of Jerusalem show&— first, its extent from 
north to south, and from east to west ; secondly, its 
environs, especially to the north and the east; and' 



16 JEBtTSALEU. 

thirdly, we read the humbling fact, that the city is in- 
deed trodden down of the Gentiles,— it is withered, like 
its emblem, the blighted fig-tree, compared with the 
glory which once encircled and enshrined it Extract 
from the Bible the passages which relate to Jerusalem, 
and how fragmentary would even that book become ! 
Yet there stands that Jerusalem, now weary and wasted, 
the skeleton of itself— a monument once of the good- 
ness, but now of the severity of GKkL 

And on the slopes of this Mount some hare, for the 
first time, felt surprised at the limited dimensions of 
the Holy Land. Its power and its place in history — 
the halo which surrounds it, and the countless associa- 
tions to which it gives rise— all foster the idea that that 
land is magnificent — that its fields are ample — its 
mountains majestio— its limits wide-spread. But one 
is not long in Palestine without being disabused in this 
respect— the impression gradually vanishes away. The 
country is still a "delightsome land." Its Jordan alone 
would render it conspicuous. But in proportion as the 
narrow, strip-like appearance of the country becomes 
known, the wonder grows, that the men of so small a 
territory were able to achieve such feats — ^that a coun- 
try so limited has produced effects greater, wider, deeper, 
and more lasting than the most famed of the old king- 
doms. It is another proof that God was among the 
Hebrews of a truth. 

After what has been said, no attempt need be made 
to record the first impressions of a devout visitor at the 
sight of Jerusalem. There are thoughts which lie too 
deep for words. It often happens that we cannot 



JERUSALEM. 17 

'^ vieak ourselves upon expression," and this is an in- 
stance. If, however, we glance once more, and ever so 
briefly, at some of the eventful scenes which that city 
has witnessed, the deep foundation of our interest in 
Jerusalem will at once be laid bare. After the time of 
Solomon, for example, it was now blessed with good 
kings, and then blighted by bad ones. God was there 
as the King of all kings, and the city prospered un- 
der the one class, as surely as it was desolated or 
drenched in blood under the other. Under Behoboam, 
for instance, it was taken and pillaged by the king of 
IJgypt (2 Ghron. xiL 9); for Behoboam was one of the men 
who feared not God. Under Amaziah, again, the city 
was taken by Jehoash, king of Israel—that is, of the re- 
volted tribes— when the Temple was robbed of its gold 
and silver, and a great part of the city defences thrown 
down (2 Kings xiv. 13, 14X Oscillating thus in its for- 
tunes according to the character of its rulers, the house 
of the Lord was alternately defiled by wicked kings 
and expurgated by devout ones. At length, when the 
cap of iniquity could hold no more, Nebuchadnezzar 
came. He besieged Jerusalem for three years. Its walls 
were razed. Its palaces were given to the fire. Its 
gold and silver were seized by the captor; and its people, 
like water emptied from vessel to vessel, were carried 
away to a heathen and a hated land. 

Now these mere glimpses of what took place in 
that remarkable city reveal to us plainly that the 
great Moral Governor was there of a truth, and invest 
the place with the sacredness that belongs to the abode 
of a present God. Asserting his prerogative, he haa 



18 THE MOUNT OF OLIVES. 

there a thousand times proclaimed that signal wicked- 
ness shall lead to signal suffering ; and when we walk 
the streets, or gaze upon the piled-up ruins of the places 
where such things have happened, we feel at once why 
it is that men's hearts cling, in love or else in supersti- 
tion, to that lonely city. The mighty works of God 
have there been wrought, and the proofs of a present 
Omnipotence seem to cluster round the place. Men of 
every clime and every hue, from north, south, east, and 
west, find that the centre of their strongest affections. 
It is not true that " the place becomes religion ;" but it 
is true that " the heart runs over" with feelings which 
words cannot telL 

THE MOXnSTT OF OLIVES, 

We have already seen, rises to the east of the city of 
Jerusalem. It is separated from the rock on which the 
eastern ramparts are built by the deep ravine or valley 
of Jehoshaphai Its slopes are studded here and there 
with the tree which gives its best known name to the 
elevation, with fig-trees, and some other Oriental pro- 
ductions ; and all its haunts, from the Garden of Geth- 
semane, and the dry bed of the brook Kidron at its 
base, to the buildings which crown the summit, are in- 
dissolubly associated, by religion and truth, or else by 
superstition apd fiction, with the Bedeemef s life, his 
sufferings, his agony, and death. 

But the view upon the city which can be eiyoyed 
from the summit or the slopes of Olivet, is what first 
attracts the visitor there; and marly every traveller 



THE HOCKT OF OLIVES. 19 

deems it a sacred duty to expatiate upon that prospect 
It so completely commands the city, that all the public 
buildings, the streets, and many of the private houses, 
can be individualized. When the Temple stood thoce 
in its inexpressible beauty, all its courts, and even the 
minute details of its decorations, could be traced from 
Olivet ; and now that the Mosque of Omar has sup- 
planted the rightful occupant of the place, it also can be 
explored by the visitor's eye. The ground on which the 
city is built slopes toward the Mount, or from north- 
west to about east ; and this gives great facility to trace 
the whole details. Passing over the apocryphal Tomb 
of the Virgin in the valley below, as well as other places 
whose names suggest suspicions, the eye rests on the 
Mosque in the foreground,— the great central object of 
the scene, and sufficiently imposing, could we forget 
the design of the structure, or the system of bigotry and 
bloodshed which it represents. That building and its 
enclosures are said to occupy about an eighth part of 
the entire modem city, and is acknowledged, even by 
those who resent its presence there, to be the grand 
decoration of Jerusalem. 

To the observer's left of that pile, with its gardens 
and outworks, lies Mount Zion ; and the chief building 
there is an Armenian Convent; beyond which the Cita- 
del and the Tower of Hippicus appear on the right, or 
not far &om the Jaifa Gate. That tower most probably 
connects us with the days of Herod and the ancient for- 
tifications of Jerusalem, though this also has originated 
debate upon debate. Further away from the observer^ 
or in the north-west angle of the modem city, is the 



20 THB MOUNT OF OLIVES. 

Latin Oonyent, occupying part of the mount or undulat* 
ing ground called Acra. And, finally, on the north-east 
lies the plateau of Bezetha— not much occupied by 
houses, yet within the walls, and clothed at some places 
with olive trees and Oriental plants. Nearer the centre 
of the city the eye rests on the reputed Holy Sepulchre ; 
and though it were perhaps safest and simplest to regard 
aU the traditions connected with it as baseless and fal- 
lacious, its name suggests associations which the holiest 
mind will most readily indulge, and most profoundly 
eiyoy. While eiyoying them, however, one is sadly 
recalled from his meditation by the mosques and mioar 
rets, already referred to, which rise up in numerous 
parts of the city. They are to Jerusalem what the 
cypress is to the trees of the garden. 

But such a superficial glance can scarcely satisfy 
either the eye or the mind as we gaze upon the city of 
the Great Kingfrom the western slope of Olivet. Though 
we were to discard at once and for ever all the idle 
legends and traditions which superstition and ignorance 
have linked to the place, one would still feel the force of 
those events which that city has witnessed, or of the 
truth which it has heard— things which neither super- 
stition can efface nor ignorance permanently corrupt 
From the Redeemer's youthful discussion with the 
Jewish doctors till the hour of agony when he died, 
or the hour of triumph when he led out his disciples as 
far as Bethany, where the heavens were cleft to receive 
him back to glory, — ^what scenes of joy and sorrow, of 
real conquest, yet apparent defeat, have been witnessed 
within these walls 1 Men tell us of " decisive battles ;" 



THE MOUNT OF OUTES. 21 

and fifteen or twenty encounters are recorded in the 
world's lustoiy * which very largely affected the destiny 
of the nations. But what battle, what fifteen battles 
can for a moment be compared with the moral struggle 
carried on within that enclosure of walls about eighteen 
hundred and fifty years ago ? There weakness united 
to Omnipotence engaged in a life-and-death struggle 
with all the enemies of God and of man. There the 
God of heaven was manifested in the flesh, that the god 
of this world might be cast out. There the extremes of 
goodness and of guilt, heavenly goodness, hellish guilt, 
came into deadly collision. The sun and the moon on 
which we now gaze, the city which is spread out in its 
cahn and desolate loneliness below us, though in far 
other circumstances then, and the hill on whose slopes 
we now recline, have all witnessed scenes and sights 
which involve or embody the redemption of a multitude 
whom no man can number. With the Bible open before 
us, we seem to behold them now; and at the sight of all 
this, well might the old monk sing, as one has quoted 
and translated him, — 

** mea, spes mea ! ta Sy on aorea, darior aaro 1 
« • • • 

bona patrla, num tua prcemla'plena tenebo? ** 

** boly Zlon, centre of my Ikope ! 

More bright to me than miaer*t hoarded gold, 

My heart's own home, wilt thon thy portals ope. 

And to these eyes thy rich rewards nnfold?** 

Yet nowhere is the truth more completely verified that 
distance lends enchantment to the view. For a little we 

• See Creasy's Ikdrive BoUUl 



22 THE MOUNT OF OLIVES. 

might forget, as we gaze from the summit of Olivet, 
that Jerusalem is now trodden down ; but a hundred 
things speedily recall the remembrance. Even the 
trees and the foliage, with the seared and withered 
fields, appear, at most seasons, to tell of decay. Along 
the flanks of the Mount, and down into the Valley of 
Jehoshaphat, olive-trees are somewhat numerous, and 
fig-trees are also seen. Some suppose that they are now 
much the same in number and appearance as they were 
eighteen centuries ago. But no one could call the pro* 
spect rich, or even pleasing ; it is rather at some seasons 
withered and parched, and everything in sight is either 
sacred association or saddening disappointment. The 
mind may be stirred up to feigned and spurious raptures; 
but the feehng which must commonly arise, and that 
with the quickness of instinct, is one of melancholy and 
depression, tending to tears. 

There is both a mosque and a church on the summit 
of Olivet, and near them is a village occupied by Arabs ; 
but the eye wanders, not unpleased, away to the Dead 
Sea and the Jordan, as they are seen at the distance of 
about twenty miles from the crest of the Mount. The 
mountains which run north and south from that sea, 
bound the view in these directions ; and there, as in a 
himdred other spots in this unique land, the eye is 
arrested as it passes from object to object, each of them 
a history — each of them related, in some form, to the 
great work of man's redemption, or the revelation of 
God most high. This is the marvel of Palestine. Not 
its lakes— not its river — not its brooks— not its ruins — 
neither Carmel, nor Hermon, not even Lebanon, — ^bat 



THE MOUNT OF OLIVES. 23 

the fact that amid these scenes the Son of man, the 
Son of Qody wrought out the redemption of his Church. 
At the thought, the head is bent in lowly reyerence : 
the belicTing heart is filled with mingled awe, and loye> 
and wonder. 

The village mentioned above as crowning the summit 
of the Mount is a small collection of dirty houses. The 
mosque and its minaret are, of course, for the adherents 
of Islam ; the Church of the Ascendon is for the friends 
of superstition. On the highest point of the hill there 
is an octagonal enclosure round a smaU building of the 
same form. In the floor an aperture allows the visitor 
to see the natural rock, and in it the alleged impress of 
the Itedeemer*s foot, left just as he re-ascended to glory. 
This is a Mohammedan relic, at least a Mohammedan 
shows it ; and we learn, beside that clumsy imposture, 
that Oriental and Western, Greek and Romanist, are 
alike the victims of delusion when they swerve from the 
simple word of God. 

But it is refreshing to turn from such lying wonders 
to ascend the minaret, and from the summit to gaze 
upon the country of the Saviour, again spread out 
beneath the eye. From the Mediterranean on the 
west to the Dead Sea and the mountains of Moab 
on the east— from the land of the Philistines along the 
sea-board, to the Ghor, and the Plains of Jericho— all 
can be surveyed ; and again, as one gazes, he wonders 
that a country so circumscribed and speck-like should 
have exercised an influence so potent over the desti- 
nies of man. This explains, in one of its aspects, the 
inborn pride of the children of Abraham,— that from 



24 THE MOUNT OF OLIVES. 

that strip influences should have gone forth which 
are pulsing still among the nations of the earth. It 
has been said of Cana of Galilee that it is more inti* 
mately associated with the affections of men than any 
spot on the face of the earth. That is because of the 
references often made to it in the marriage rite; for 
in that retired village, now hastening to ruins, Jesus 
consecrated wedded life by his presence and his power. 
There is truth in the saying ; but in principle the re- 
mark applies to many a village, and city, and scene, in 
this land of the Bible. Incidents which bear upon the 
everlasting felicity of man have occurred throughout 
the whole. Prophets, apostles, and the Bedeemer have 
all thrown around it that charm which even Moslem 
fanaticism or Papal superstition cannot destroy. 

The base of Mount Olivet is skirted by monuments 
of various kinds, many of which are curious, though 
those which are named are nearly all fictitious. The 
Tombs of the Prophets, of Jehoshaphat, of Absalom, and 
Zechariah — all so called— «re among them. The Mount 
of Offence is also in the vicinity, the scene of Solomon's 
idolatries, when his heathen wives corrupted his ways, 
and led him to import the abominations of I!gypt into 
the Land of Promise. But it would not be easy even to 
catalogue all that is to be witnessed here. Many cen* 
turies and many generations seem to meet and cluster 
round Mount Olivet; and surely if a celebrated moralist 
could call that a frigid philosophy which forbade men 
to glow with patriotic ardour at Marathon and Ther- 
mopylse, much more might we wonder if any heart 
were cold or any Mth not strengthened amid the sights 



THE MOUNT OF OMVES. 25 

and associations which meet us here. Were it only the 
Sayiour's frequent passage over the southern slopes of 
Mount Olivet, to reach the home of Lazarus, and 
Martha, and Mary, at Bethany, that would be enough. 
It would suffice to consecrate the whole vicinity in the 
mind of that man who knows Jesus to be what he was 
when on earth, — the Infinite united to the finite — 
Omnipotence in alliance with weakness — ^at once the 
Son of God and the Saviour of the sons of men. 

We have said that the outspread attractions beheld 
from Olivet fix many a visitor to the spot. It is the 
first and the last in a visit to Jerusalem. Yet these 
words require some modification* To a meditative 
mind, the view of the city is inexpressibly melancholy; 
and one has recorded that there is no such thing as 
cheerfulness about it, even on a sunny spring day. It 
is a mass of old stone houses, cold, sombre, and sad, 
presenting only blank walls to the streets, and many of 
them in ruins. Not more than half the space enclosed 
by the walls is built upon. Thickets of prickly pear 
and weeds, with gardens, occupy the rest. The whole 
of Mount Moriah, nearly the half of Mount Zion, and 
other portions, are either open courts or desolate and 
deserted places. Except on Mount Zion, and a cofiee* 
shop near the Jaffa Grate, there is not a single house 
outside the gates. Then the country in the vicinity of 
Jerusalem, El Kuds, or The Holy, appears to be blighted, 
at least at seasons, as if the curse of God were on it 
Bare rocks are everjrwhere visible. The wadies around 
furnish but scanty herbage for meagre goats, still 
scantier crops, and rarely any streams ; and even the 



26 THE MOUNT OF OLIVES. 

Bedawin who live, or at least prowl there, would have 
to wage perpetual war with famine, were they not 
accustomed to the most meagre and the coarsest fare. 
Bid we not know that this is in very deed the land 
which the Lord had blessed, and which had once 
flowed with milk and honey at his bidding, it would 
be difficult to divine where the abundance of Judah 
could be found except by repeating the miracle of the 
manna. Such are the thoughts which have actuated 
some as they gazed from the crest of Olivet — all seemed 
blighted and sere. 

Sad and suggestive, however, as all this may be, 
there is one topic upon which all visitors to the Holy 
Land seem absolutely at one — ^the attractions of this 
Mount itself. We submit one concluding extract as a 
specimen of hundreds: — "Again, and yet again, we 
walked that mountain path to Bethany, and gathered 
flowers along its sides to be life-long memorials. It was 
there that He talked with his disciples ; there the fig- 
tree withered at his command ; it was on that path 
that he mounted the ass, and rode triumphant into the 
city amid the acclamations of the people — ^the very 
people, perhaps, who a few days later shouted, 
* Crucify him ! ' It was somewhere along that path 
that he led the disciples when the bending heavens 
opened to receive him, and the angels conducted him to 
his great white throne." Such are the facts settled 
without controversy ; why, then, appeal to poor and 
shadowy tradition for other and questionable attrac- 
tions ? Nay, amid these sacred scenes, let us adhere to 
the unadorned loveliness of nature^ as in redemption we 



GABDEN OP GETHSEMANB. 27 

cling to the power of grace, free, sovereign, and omni- 
potent. It is thus that in our walks about Jerusalem 
we are at once gladdened by- the remembrance of 
glories past, and enabled to anticipate the more trans- 
cendent glories that are to come. The gloom of this 
poor Jerusalem is relieved by the glories of the Jeru- 
salem which is above. 

THE GABBEir OF GETHSEMAHE. 

This is, perhaps, the most interesting spot of all that 
the traveller can visit ; and, happily, its general posi- 
tion is one of the least questionable about Jerusalem. 
He will perhaps leave the city by the Jaffa Gate, 
although in ancient times some of the other gates would 
have been more convenient, and soon reaches the bed 
of " the brook Cedron," which, though commonly dry, 
is crossed by a bridge. Near that bridge, and a little 
to the right, is the alleged site of the Garden of Geth- 
semane. It is 30 or 40 feet higher than the brook, from 
which the north-west corner of the enclosure is distant 
about 145 feet. The western wall which now encloses 
it extends to about 160 feet in length, and that on the 
north to 160. Within that enclosure there are eight 
olive-trees, obviously of uncommon antiquity, even for 
the long-lived olive. Stones are piled up around the 
trunks, for safety or for strength; and one cannot 
approach the place without a feeling that perhaps only 
a generation or two, according to the length of a 
generation among such trees, may separate these 
gnarled stems from the days of Jesus of Kazareth. 



28 GARDEN OF GETHSEMAKE. 

Though a cautious scepticism suggests that there is 
nothing to lead to an absolute decision of the question, 
" Is this the very Gfethsemane?" and though it is said 
by some that at other places in the neighbourhood 
there are olive-trees as ancient, and places as likely ; 
yet it must have been hereabout that the events took 
place which render the whole region solemn till the 
hour when all shall be wrapt in its winding-sheet of 
fire. 

Yet Gethsemane is in itself a plain, prosaic garden. 
It is now laid out in stiff and unseemly flower-beds, 
where the borders are formed by rows of lavender, which 
at seasons load the air with their odours. There are 
fourteen Stations marked within the enclosure, as places 
for prayer or superstition, and each of these is alleged 
to indicate a spot signalized by the incidents of that 
memorable evening which made Gethsemane what it 
must ever be— next to the Cross, a scene for solemn 
impressions to the sons of men. The precise spot is 
indicated where Judas exclaimed, '* Hail, master, and 
kissed him ;*' and a path in the enclosure is marked oft 
from the rest, because it was pressed by the feet of the 
traitor. But, in such a neighbourhood, the devout 
mind declines such legendary lore, and clings to the great 
whole. The grotto of the agony, that of the bloody 
sweat, and similar fantastic inventions, are all dis* 
carded ; for on no principles but those of Popery can 
the false and the pretentious ever be asked to favour 
the true. Tliere may, indeed, be falsehood in sentiment 
as well as in tradition. When a man visits (Gethse- 
mane, and comes back to tell us that he could hear 



gjibben of GETHSEMANE. 29 

the heavy, the slow, and solemn beating of his heart 
amid the stillness of the garden, we become sceptical 
about a nan-ative which is at once so weak and so ex- 
aggerated. Yet where on earth, if not on Calvary 
(were it known), or in Gethsemane, can external nature 
help to place us in close communion with the Lord of 
aU? Where can faith more nearly pass into sight? 
Where can we more profoundly feel the force of the 
wish of him who desired to touch and to handle the 
wounds of his Eedeemer ? 

One willingly surrenders himself, then, to the im- 
pressions of the place. It mxiy be true that this spot 
was selected for the garden only in the days of the 
Empress Helena, or about the year 326 ; it may admit 
of proof that antiquity is not in absolute harmony with 
itself upon the subject — one author placing the spot 
at which Judas betrayed his 'Master in the Valley of 
Jehoshaphat, and others on the slopes or at the base 
of Olivet ;— but as the sacred narrative unquestionably 
points to thii vidnUy, we sit down here, with the Bible 
open before us, as it should habitually be in the Holy 
Land ; and with it for our guide-book, we try to drink 
in the lessons which the scene may help to deepen, 
while the word imparts them.* 

On this subject, John says, "Jesus went forth over 

* Tliongh we have expressed a willingness to be convinced that it was 
In (his vMttUy that the garden stood of old, it is right to add, that some 
of the most indefotigable ezplorera of the region, are more than scepti- 
cal Dr. Thomson, for example, in " The Land and the Book," rejects this 
Bite. The Greelcs have selected a rival garden, and the anthor Just named 
deems both parties wrong. The site is too near the city, he says, and not 
snfflciently retired. He therefore points to a spot several hundred yards 
to the north-east of the present Gethsemane. 



30 GABDEN OF QETHSEMANE. 

the brook Cedron, where was a garden." Luke says, 
" He went, as he was wont, to the Mount of Olives." 
Here, therefore, he sought a retreat when the hour and 
the power of darkness came. Here his *' soul was exceed- 
ing sorrowful, even unto death.'* Here he retired to some 
distance, even from his chosen disciples, to cast himself 
once, again, and again on the tenderness of the Father. 
Here he einbodied, in his utmost extremity, the spirit 
of his own profoundly simple prayw, " Thy will be done 
on earth, as it is done in heaven." Here he found that 
his disciples could not watch with him one hour, and 
yet here he kindly excused the apparent indifference, 
saying, " The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is 
weak." Here, also, the Kedeemer, in his strong figony, 
saw the officers, led on by Judas, hunting him out with 
torches, as if he had been a fugitive from justice, amid 
the foliage of the place, their swords and their armour 
gleaming in the light of the fiill moon, or of the lanterns 
which they bore. Here the traitor's kiss pointed out 
the Lamb for the slaughter ; and here was uttered that 
mildest of all rebukes, " Betrayest thou the son of man 
with a kiss 1" 

Moreover, here one of the Saviour's disciples smote 
off the ear of the high priest's servant with a sword ; 
but here Jesus healed that wound, and restored the 
member, because that action was opposed to the spirit 
of his religion. Here an angel appeared to Jesus, to 
strengthen him. Here, at his mere word, those who 
came to seize him fell on the groimd; and here they 
seized him after all, boimd him, and led him away. 
Here all the disciples forsook him and fled. Here, in 



OABDEK OF OETHSEMANE. 31 

abort, scenes of profoimdest iaterest were witnessed, 
and sorrows of unmatched depth were endured. Were 
Oalyary known, we repeat, and could we describe all 
that was suffered there by Him who endured such con- 
tradiction of sinners, we might find some spot that 
would rival Grethsemane in interest ; but as the " place 
called Oalyary" is hopelessly unknown, this is the 
foremost spot on earth, for the closeness of its connec- 
tion with the Man of Sorrows and the Prince of Peace — 
with Him who resisted unto blood, that sinners might 
live for ever. Even now, it is scarcely a fancy for the 
solitary traveller, as he meditates at Gethsemane, to 
think that he still hears the words, " my Father! if 
this cup may not pass from me except I drink it, thy 
will be done." 

The city is near at hand : the walls almost overhang 
the garden, and it is not difficult to go back in thought 
to that night, so full of future woe and future glory, 
and study the demeanour of the myriads whom these 
walls enclosed eighteen centuries ago. Busy with their 
cares, their pleasures, their plans, or their revenge, they 
heeded not the Saviour, or thought only of his death. 
But where is he now, — ^and where are they ? Where is 
Pontius Pilate ? Where is the high priest of the day 1 
Where is Judas 1 Where the soldiers that seized him 1 
At the thought, one is prompted to exclaim, " that 
men were wise !" He that travelled in the greatness 
of his strength was then in his sore agony; and those 
whom he loved so well were rushing upon ruin. He 
had wept over their coming woe, and given to earth 
glimpses of the fathomless compassion of Heaven. Ho 



32 GARDBN OF GETHSSMAKE. 

is now in deeper anguish still than when he shed those 
tears ; for he is engaged in a death-struggle with that 
holy law whose demands he had lived to meet, and 
whose penalty he was dying to exhaust But even the 
people— ^'^ his own" — ^were heedless of his sorrows; 
revehry proceeded without a check. Religion without 
€k>d, and worship without the heart, were all they had 
And oh, how often since that night has that scene been 
repeated, in regard to the members of Christ, of whom 
he speaks as one with himself ! The world has rejoiced 
while the children of God were perishing in the perse- 
cutor's grasp ; that is, as the Master was, so have the 
servants been. Gethsemane with all its anguish was 
to him the vestibule of heaven ; to them, the rack, the 
fire, the wild beast, the inquisition, the axe, have been 
the prelude to glory ; and under the shade of these 
hoary olive-trees, which could tell us tales of perhaps 
a thousand years ago, one can thus behold in its germ 
the entire history of the Church on earth — ^the bulrush 
ark on the water— the bush in the flames again— the 
lily among thorns— the Lamb's bride exposed to the 
malice of those who here compassed the death of the 
Lamb himself. 

Amid the silence and solitude of this garden by 
moonlight, one can profoundly realize the connection 
which knits things seen and temporal to things unseen 
and eternal Jesus could look on heaven as his home, 
his own native land: we were once strangers and 
foreigners there, but in him may be naturalized. Per- 
haps in this very enclosure, certainly in this vicinity, 
amid his agony, flashes of the glory of his home were 



GABDEN OF GETHSEKAKBL 33 

granted, to animate and sustain him ; and have not we 
also, in our Gethsemanes, foreshadowings and foretastes 
of the glory that is coming 1 

** All Ib not woe; there ore bright gleams of bliss 
To cheer the pilgrhn as he climbs the steep; 
And if those gleams presage eternal peace, 
Wliy o'er our sorrows droop, or weakly weep? '• 

Nay, when sorrows threaten to exhaust, visit Gethse* 
mane, and find what will be refreshing as cold water to 
the thirsty souL When friends prove false as Judas did, 
or forsake us and flee, as "all the disciples** fled from 
Jesus, we may hasten just the more quickly to Gethse- 
mane, to see the Man of Sorrows suffering there, but 
suffering that we might triumph and rejoice, 

" The Garden of the Agony" is now the property of a 
Franciscan convent, and its owners guard the grassless, 
sometimes flowerless, enclosure with some care. Their 
motives are two-fold. Superstition, of course, is one, 
and avarice the other. The name Gethsemane is under- 
stood to mean "the oil-press;" and whether for the 
produce of the trees, or the douceurs of visitors, the 
spot is prized. Young trees are carefiilly planted, to 
supply the place of those which are decaying; yet the 
present loneliness and desertion, and the scarred ap- 
pearance of the scene, all harmonize well with the 
associations and the thoughts to which it gives rise. 
One would be pained and repelled by the sight of aught 
gairish there. 

The monks and Chateaubriand, their encomiast, 
Ijelieve that the existing olive-trees are the identical 
plants which witnessed the Saviour's agony. But it ia 





34 MOUNT HOBIAH. 

enough to have mentioned sucli a supposition* Stanley 
more discreetly says, that these trees willremain, as 
long as their already protracted life is spared, the most 
venerable of their race on the face of the earth ; their 
gnarled trunks and scanty foliage will always be re- 
garded as the most affecting of the sacred memorials in 
or about Jerusalem. Here, if anywhere, there are 
tongues in the trees; and their utterance is one of 
mingled joy and sorrow. 

HOUVT KOBIAH. 

It has already been noticed that Mount Moriah, on the 
east side of Jerusalem, was formerly crowned with the 
Temple of Solomon (2 Ohron. iiL 1). From the Mount 
of Olives, the Mosque of Omar can now be explored by 
the eye, as the Temple was of old; and we know that 
it was when gazing on the Mount from Olivet that the 
Saviour pronounced some of his most startling predic- 
tions over Jerusalem. 

Moriah is first mentioned in the Bible in connection 
with the sacrifice of Isaac ((kn. xxiL 1, 2). It was 
then an unpeopled region, and we know that a thicket 
grew upon the spot Long subsequent to that period 
Moriah still preserved its rural character; for Araunah 
the Jebusite had a threshing-floor there, which he gave 
to David as a site for an altar to his God (2 Sam. xziv. 
16-26). When the Temple was erected, the Jews 
believed that the altar of burnt-offering stood precisely 
on the spot where Abraham placed his altar. Solomon 
connected Mount Zion, which lies to the south-west, with 



MOUNT MOBIAH. 36 

Moriah, by a stupendous causeway wMch led from his 
palace to the Temple. At present, however, Moriah is 
scarcely to be distinguished from Mount Zion, except 
by antiquarian eyes. The intervening valley has been 
much filled up, so that the two eminences appear to be 
now nearly one, though no changes of time can ever 
obliterate the associations of the past and the anticipa- 
tions of the future, connected with Moriah, its Temple, 
and its God. 

To show how far the old land-marks of the city have 
been effaced by the lapse of time and the ravages of war, 
it may be mentioned that when a Protestant church 
was about to be erected on Mount Zion, not less than 
fifty feet of rubbish and debris had to be cleared away 
before a firm foundation could be found. To fix with 
absolute certainty the exact spot of some events which 
happened in Jerusalem, is, consequently, in many cases 
utterly impossible; and few would attempt it unless 
they were first blinded, and then impelled by supersti- 
tion. Standing by the Tarpeian Rock, above the Roman 
Forum, one is doubtful for a time whether such a paltry 
eminence could ever be employed for the purposes to 
which it was sometimes applied.^ But when we descend 
into the Forum, and see tjie fathoms deep of rubbish 
piled upon it, the doubts disappear. Now, Jerusalem 
has been yet more frequently sacked, burned, and razed 
than Rome, and the piles of rubbish heaped over a 
great part of its area should make us wary as to alleged 
historical spots, except where the nature of the ground 
makes change impossible,— as at the Pool of Siloam, the 
Mount of Olives, and some other places. It may guide 



36 MOUNT MOBIAH. 

US, however, amid numerous sources of difficulty, to 
remember, that the hills of Zion, of Akra, of Moriah, 
and Bezetha, according to the opinions of most of 
those who have visited Jerusalem, can still be traced 
as of old. The brook Kidron cannot be mistaken ; 
the Valley of Hinnom could not be effaced except 
by some earthquake convulsion: and thus, while we 
walk about Zion, or tell her towers, much may be 
learned at once to establish and explain the word of 
God. 

Few can resort to Moriah, or scan it from the slope 
of Olivet, without being reminded that it is one of the 
spots where earth and heaven have met, or where it 
was made plain that God did not abandon man, when 
man had forsaken God. ^ay, on this Mount one of 
the most wonderful manifestations was made regarding 
the promised Deliverer, — ^his sacrifice, and his return 
to life. For an age when men were taught religion 
rather by what they saw than by what they heard, — 
by pictorial representation rather than by vocal utter- 
ances, — ^no one can over-estimate the meaning of Abra- 
ham's act in his willingness to offer Isaac on this 
Mount. The spirit in which it was done, the ante- 
cedents, the accompaniments and results of the deed, 
all proclaim that this was the finger of God ; and while 
we are thereby pointed forward to the Lamb of God, 
the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world, 
Jerusalem becomes more and more sacred in a good 
man's eyes. True, that Mount is for the present all 
trodden down ; it is profaned by the rites of Islam, ^o 
one dare explore it except at the risk of his life. But 



THE GATES OF JEST7SALE1C. 37 

tfaAt will not be for ever, and, meanwliile, even in its 
sad desecration, the place is dear. The dawn of its 
emancipation from the Turk, moreover, approaches. 
The sacred precincts have lately been explored again 
and again, in a way that would perhaps have ended in 
death half a century ago. 

It is but right to add here, that some doubt whether 
this Moriah be that of Abraham. There are difficulties 
connected with the question the moment it is raised. 
Yet, if this must be denied, what may be believed? 
The Moslem enclosure, called Haram, or the holy, and 
Haram-esh-Sherif, " the noble sanctuary," is generally 
believed to occupy the site, and we do not see sufficient 
reason for disturbing the belief. Its extent, 1500 feet 
by 1050, may seem too ample to have been a threshing- 
floor ; and the stately cloisters, the alleys of trees, the 
Mosque El-Aksa, and other things, may countenance a 
surmise; but, superstition all apart, we see no valid 
reason for denying that the " Dome of the Rock " is the 
real MoriaL 

THE GATES OP JEBXTSALEIC 

In all ancient cities, from Thebes and Troy to Rome, 
the gates have been objects of prime importance. 
Those of Jerusalem were numerous, but it is not easy 
to acquire exact information regarding them. On the 
north side there stood the Old Gate (Neh. iii 6); the 
Gate of Ephraim, or Benjamin (Jer. xxxviii. 7); and 
the Comer Gate. On the west side, the Valley Gate 
appears to be placed; while on the south were th« 



38 THE GATES OF JEBUSALEM. 

Dung Gate (NeL iiL 13) ; the Gate of the Fountain 
(Neh. ii 14) ; and on the east, the Water Gate, the 
Prison Gate, the Sheep Gate, and the Fish Gate. 
All these, and perhaps some others, are mentioned in 
Scripture, but most of them are involved in endless 
controversy ; indeed, the difference of opinion that pre- 
vaik on the subject of the walls of Jerusalem is so wide, 
and the feelings connected with it are so intense, that 
the haze of doubt produced by these disputes extends 
to many other subjects connected with the city. At all 
events, the visitor who wanders over the two miles and 
a half which form the circuit of modern Jerusalem, will 
not find the gates now mentioned. On the contrary, 
there exist at present only four open gates, or one on 
each side; though other four, walled up and never opened, 
are visible in the fortifications. On the west side is 
the Bab-el-Khulil, or the Hebron Gate, called also the 
Bethlehem, the Jaffa, and the Pilgrims.' On the north 
lies the Damascus Gate, by which travellers from that 
city, from Sychar, and other places in North Palestine, 
commonly enter Jerusalem. On the east we find what 
is now called St. Stephen's Gate by the Franks, while 
Mussulmans call it Bab-es-Subat, or Gate of the Tribes ; 
and some Romanists, " The Gate of our Lady Mary." 
The road from it leads to Anata, or Anathoth, to 
Bethany and places adjacent. And the fourth gate is 
called Bab-en-Nebi Doud, the Gate of the Prophet 
David. From it several paths lead down to the valleys 
of Jehoshaphat and Hinnom. 

The gates which are now walled up are — ^first, on the 
north side, Bab-es-Zahary,or " the flowery;" secondly, 



THE GATES OF JERUSALEM. 39 

the Dung Gate, on the south, or Bab-el-Mugharibeh ; 
thirdly, on the east, a gate called by the natives " The 
Eternal," but by others, " The Golden ;" and fourthly} a 
gate which is rarely mentioned, near the south wall of 
the Great Mosque. The Porta Aurea, or the Golden 
Gate, mentioned in this list, has been shut up for cen- 
turies. It is a somewhat massive structure of Roman 
workmanship; and the interior recess, formed by the 
wall which blocks it up, is used by Mohammedans as 
a place for prayer connected with the Great Mosque. 
The traditions which are circulated regarding it are 
characteristic and numerous. It is walled up, accord- 
ing to some, because the adherents of Mohammed be- 
lieve that a king is to enter by it who will take posses- 
sion: of the city, and become lord of the whole earth. 
The basis of that tradition can easily be divined. Ac- 
cording to the Islamites, the Porta Aurea, which they 
call the Gate of Mercy, was walled up for security, 
because it fronts the desert, and was exposed to the 
sudden attacks of its roaming hordes. Still others add 
that if was built up by Omar himself, and will not be 
opened again till the coming of Christ. When the 
Crusaders had possession of Jerusalem, the Porta Aurea 
was opened once each year, to celebrate the Saviour's 
triumphal entrance into Jerusalem, when the people 
who were soon to cry "Crucify! Crucify f were as 
vehement in shouting " Hdsanna." 

A passing reference has already l)een made to a 
causeway or bridge by which Solomon connected Mount 
Zion, where the palace of the kings of Israel stood, 
with the Temple, which crowned MoriaL There was a 



40 THE GATES OF JEBUSALEM. 

deep valley between the two, which is now much filled 
up by ruins and rubbish, and the thousand changes 
which have swept over the ill-fated city; and across 
that valley a pathway was thrown for the convenience 
of royalty when it went to worship. Though historians 
had made distinct mention of that work, it was long 
forgotten, and no trace of it was known or noticed. In 
recent times, however, the scrutiny of modem travellers 
has discovered some of the substructions of that viaduct. 
The place of these remains is approached by a steep 
street, leading from the Latin Convent to near the 
comer of the Great Mosque; and no one should now 
visit Jerusalem without examining these stones, so vast 
and so hoary in their antiquity, connecting us, probably, 
with the days of Solomon and his successors. Three 
courses still remain, of which one is five feet four 
inches thick, and the others about as much; while 
one stone is twenty feet six inches long, and other two 
stones are not much less. 

The men who laid such foundations, and reared such 
stmctures upon them, no doubt felt elated amid their 
colossal enterprise. Ba'albec, Palmyra, and the bridge 
on Mount Moriah — who would have dared to pre- 
dict the desolation ox these vast stmctures when they 
stood in their glory to add to the pride of man? 
And yet that desolation has come ; so that not merely 
man, but his most majestic works are seen to be as 
grass. In the vieW of such things, are we not directly 
confronted with Him who is strong alike to smite or to 
save, and who can mnke the feeblest strong, or the 
strongest like flax before the flame? It is such 



THE GATES OF JEBUSALEIL 41 

spectacles that sometimes render a sojourn in the Holy 
Oity painfuL Were there waters and willows there as 
at Babylon, many a Christian pilgrim — ^we mean pil- 
grims of the scriptural type— would hang their harps 
upon them, and weep much for the hurt of the daugh- 
ters of Jerusalem. It is believed that it was this yia- 
duct — " the ascent by which the king went up to the 
house of the Lord "—that amazed the Queen of Sheba, 
"so that there was no more spirit in her." Whether 
that was actually the case or not, the work was stu- 
pendous. It forms another reason why we should pause 
before we assume a superiority over the ancients in 
regard to architecture In mass, at least, they far sur- 
passed the modems. 

In trying to form some idea of the ancient city, we 
should not pass by its towers without some attention. 
They are referred to in Scripture in various connections, 
but the chief of those that remain date from the days of 
Herod the Great. The Tower of Hippicus stood at the 
north-west comer of the city, and was named after a 
friend of Herod's who perished in battle. Other towers 
were those of Phasaelus and Mariamne, — ^the former 
named after the Mend, and the latter after the wife of 
Herod, by whom both were built. These towers were of 
w€ll-known importance during the si^e of Jemsalem, 
and in their neighbourhood some of the most terrible 
scenes of that tragic chapter in man's history were en- 
acted. At present, however, their site and all that relates 
to them form another arena for antiquarian debate. The 
pride of the tyrant who built them has long been laid 
in the dust. Magnificent as he was in his tastes, and 



42 THE OATLS Of JBSITSALEH. 

gifted abore most of his contemporaries, Herod the 
Great was a monster of all conceivable iniquity, — ^a 
seven-fold murderer, — and he and his proudest monu- 
ments are equally fallen now. How different the lot 
of the lowliest believer in Jesus, in Herod's oppressed 
dominions 1 

One tower, however, may deserve a more spedaJ 
notice, namely, that of Antonia; so designated by Herod 
in honour of Mark Antony. It was deemed the Citadel 
of Jerusalem, and communicated with the cloisters of 
the Temple by secret passages, through which soldiers 
could hasten to quell the tumults which sometimes 
happened at the high festivals of Judaism. It was there 
that Pilate found a guard for the entombed body of 
Jesufl ; and along one of these passages Paul was con- 
veyed when the Jews rose up agaiost him, and would 
have put him to death (Acts xxL, xxii.) There he de- 
fended his conduct, and declared his conversion ; there, 
in short, he did to a riotous mob what he subsequently 
repeated to King Agrippa, Bemice, and Festus. And 
thus in crypt, and under the canopy of heaven, by 
pool or mount, in garden or amid ruins, the events of 
redemption are pressed upon us here in aspects num- 
berless, but all attractive. If the heart be still without 
God, it must needs be detected here ; if He be Its 
chosen portion, we may here rejoice more than ever in 
his exuberant favour. 

We need not try to teU the bloody scenes which the 
Tower of Antonia witnessed during the siege of Jerusa- 
lem. The death-struggles* of a proud, a corrupt, and 
tdoomed nation there took place ; and there blood was 



THE GAT£8 OF JE£USAL£M. 43 

shed like water, while the dead were piled in heaps till 
waJls might be scaled by climbing over the ghastly piles. 
It will be noticed that no detailed reference has been 
made to the waUa of Jerusalem. They have given rise 
to some of the most acrimonious of all the discussions 
raised regarding the city. On the side next the Mount 
of Olives, along the whole course of the brook Kidron, 
Upper and Lower, as well as on the side skirted by the 
Valleys of Hinnom and Gihon, there can be no dispute. 
The walls in these parts are to-day altogether where they 
must have been ever since Jerusalem was a fenced city ; 
and some of the stones are at once so massive and so 
peculiar in their formation, that no doubt can for a 
moment be entertained regarding their antiquity. But 
the side on which the city opens up towards the country, 
that is, to the north or north-west, has become an arena 
for high debate, and a wordy warfare as to the walls of 
Jerusalem is waged there, as intense of its kind as the 
most bloody struggle that ever was maintained between 
Jew and Boman, or Persian, or Turk. The reason is 
not that there is really much difficulty in the question 
itself. It is confessed that at different periods there 
were three walls constructed there ; the second nearer 
the open country than the first, and the third than the 
second, as the exigencies of defence, or the increase of 
the population required. But where were these walls 
placed in regard to the spot which at present is believed 
by many to mark the place of the Sepulchre ? The 
crdcifixion and all its accompaniments were outside 
the walls. Hence it is a life-and-death struggle for the 
devotees of tradition to maintain that the walls ran in 



44 THE JAFFA GATE AND THE TOWEB OF DAVID. 

a certain direction, or included certain localities ; while 
those who consider the question with no foregone 
conclusion to uphold, and with no guide but the New 
Testament to consult, are free and unembarrassed 
in their deductions. Into the controversy, however, 
we do not enter further than to say, that of all the 
hopeless efforts made by man, it seems one of the most 
hopeless, to attempt to prove that the present alleged 
Bite of the Holy Sepulchre was outside the walls. In 
that respect, as in many others, superstition has forged 
and rivetted its fetters upon man. 

THE JAFFA GATE ABP THE. TOWER OP DAVID. 

As we have already seen, this gate is also called the 
Gate of Bethlehem, the Pilgrims' Gate, and th« Hebron 
Gate. It 'is commonly the first that is entered by 
visitors to Jerusalem from the west. Whether we 
come by the way of the Desert of Beersheba, Hebron, 
and other places in the south parts of Palestine, or from 
ancient Joppa on the west, this is the usual entrance > 
into the sacred precincts. It is situated close beside 
the Citadel, which lies to the north-west of Mount Zio t 
Like the other gates, it is regularly closed and guarded 
at night ; but all travellers tell that a golden or a silver 
key can secure admission at most hours. In the time 
of the Crusades, the adjoining Castle was called the 
Citadel of David. It consists of an irregular assem- 
blage of square towers, surrounded on the side next the 
city by a low wall, and on the outer side by a deep 
JxencL From the edge of that trench the towers spring 



11 



II > 



^^ 




THE VALLEY OF JEH08HAPHAT. 45 

up, and are there fortified by a solid sloping buttress 
The north-eastern tower, called by pre-eminence the 
Tower of David, is manifestly ancient. The lower por- 
tion, to the height of about fifty feet, is built of large 
stones, bevelled in the peculiar manner which carries us 
back over eighteen centuries at least, and resembling 
some of the remaining portions of the ancient city wall, 
and other unquestionable ancient remains. The tower 
is quadrangular, but not square ; but no entrance is found 
to the lower and more ancient portion, as it is buried, 
perhaps to the extent of ten feet or more, in the rub- 
bish and debris accumulated on Mount Zion. But it 
should be observed, that though the popular voice and 
tradition have for centuries called this the Tower of 
David, some exact investigators of the antiquities of 
Jerusalem have now little doubt that it is part of the 
Tower of Hippicus, already named, built by Herod, and 
spared by Titus when he sacked the city— the most pro- 
minent remnant of antiquity now visible in Jerusalem. 
It is known to have been surmounted of old by a stately 
residence, the abode of royalty ; but in the deep degra- 
dation of the place, this tower, like all the rest, has 
shared 

THE YALLET OP XEHOSHAFHAT. 

To form a correct impression as to this valley, it may 
be well to take our place once more on the slope of 
C ivet looking toward the city. From that position 
tl 3 Valley of Jehoshaphat is seen commencing on 
Jolb north side of Jerusalem. At first it is rather 



46 THE VALLEY OF JEHOSHAFHAT. 

a depression than an actual yalley or glen ; but it 
deepens as we advance eastward, and when it reaches 
the southern root of the Mount of Olives, the valley 
suddenly bends to the south. In that part of its course 
it forms a defence for the city which rendered it im- 
pregnable in ancient warfare. The gulf is precipi- 
tous, — ^somewhat like the Castle Bock in Edinburgh. 
The valley is joined at the south-east comer of the 
city by another valley from the west, namely, the 
Valley of Hinnom; and that screens the city on the 
south. The Valley of Hinnom becomes that of Gihon 
a little further up. And thus on three sides the city of 
the Great King has natural defences, not very important 
now, but once sufficient against any ordinary assailant 
It was on the north, or north-west, therefore, that it 
could be eflFectually attacked ; and we know that there 
the deadly conflict between besieger and besieged has 
a hundred times been waged. On the east, the south, 
and south-west sides, the surrounding valleys formed 
the strength of Jerusalem ; elsewhere it was. vulnerable, 
and there its heroes or its maddened fanatics fought 
andfelL 

The Valley of Jehoshaphat* is the bed of the brook 
Kidron ; and when there is water in existence there, it 
is carried oflF through that channel to the gloomy gulf 
of the Dead Sea. It is somewhat difficult to say why 
so much consequence is now attached to this valley, 
as it was scarcely known in the Old Testament under 



* The name Jehoshaphat means in Hebrew, "Jehovah Judges;" and 
from some impression founded upon that, Romanists, Mussulmans, and 
Jews alike believe that the final Judgment will take place in this valley. 



THE VALLEY OF JEHOSHAFHAT. 47 

its present name. But as Joel speaks of a Valley of 
Jehoshaphat where God will judge the heathen, that 
name has for the last fifteen or sixteen hundred years, 
without any other authority, been applied to this glen. 
For part of its course the Kidron is fringed by ex- 
cavated tombs. Advancing along the valley from north 
to south, the rocks on which the ramparts of the 
city rest, are about 100 feet high, and the glen about 
145 feet wide. As we proceed southward, the banks 
become more precipitous, a bridge of one arch is 
thrown across the brook, and not far distant are 
found what have long been regarded as the Tombs of 
Jehoshaphat, of Absalom, and others. A little further 
on, the valley becomes a mere ravine, and the wall 
of the Temple area (of the Mosque now) here over- 
hangs the place. The height of the rock there approaches 
200 feet Proceeding still further south, with (xeth- 
semane on the east and the city on the west, we reach 
the village of Siloam and its pool, the entrance of the 
Valley of Hinnom, then the Well of Job or Nehemiah at 
En-Bogel ; and soon after that the valley opens up into 
com fields, as indeed there are patches under culture at 
different places along the margin. Olive and fig trees 
are planted there, and ere it reaches the Dead Sea, the 
Valley of Jehoshaphat has become at one place " Monk's 
VaUey/'— at another, " the Valley of Fire." Numerous 
wadies open into this course, which run east from the 
water-shed at about the level of Jerusalem ; but though 
small patches of cultivated land are found in some of 
them, yet, like the Kidron itself, they contain no peren- 
nial stream. 



4ft TOMBS IN THE VALLET. 



TOKBS Hr THE VALLEY. 

Eeference has been made to the tombs which skirt the 
Kidron. Names are of course attached to them ; and 
the Tombs of Helena, of the Virgin Mary, of Jehosha- 
phat, of St. James, of Zacharias, of the prophets, and 
others, are mentioned. The ascription of one of these 
to Absalom rests on the authority of 2 Sam. xviii. 18, 
where we read that when Absalom had no children, 
he reared up a pillar to himself in the King's Dale. 
But though we retain the traditional name, it must 
be added that many circumstances combine to prove 
that this monument is of comparatively modem origin. 
It is chiefly hewn from the solid rock, and forms a 
conspicuous and pleasing, though dilapidated object 
in the valley. Neither Jew nor Moslem will pass with- 
out casting a stone, and spitting at the pile, on account 
of the character of him whose monument it is fabled to 
be. It is about 24 feet square, and is ornamented by 
pillars and pilasters of the Ionic order, though some 
Doric ornaments are also found thera Between the 
portion cut from the rock, which is about 20 feet high, 
and the mason-work a-top, which is about 20 more, 
the whole height rises to about 40 feet. The most 
intelligent travellers now agree that the style of this 
monument betokens a much more recent origin than 
tradition assigns to it. Moreover, it has changed names 
so often, that all is doubt regarding it. The Tomb of 
Jehoshaphat at one time, passes into the Tomb of Isaiah 
at another; then some other worthy supplants both: 



TOMBS nr THIS VALLEY. 49 

80 that, like a thoiisand siglits and scenes in this land 
of ruins and of figments, the chief certainty is that 
nothing is certainly known upon the subject. 

Few things can strike the traveller more solemnly in 
this solemn land than the tombs excavated in the rocks 
in the vicinity of Jerusalem. Some of theee have become 
the habitations of the living ; a few are filled with skulls 
and skeletons, but whether of Jews, Romans, Omsaders, 
more ancient or more modem occupants, who can telll 
Most of them, however, are empty now, and the bodies 
once deposited there have literally become dust, im- 
palpable, invisible. Not one solitary instance can be 
mentioned in which we assuredly know who were the 
first occupants of these abodes, excavated as they were 
with great labour, and sometimes with great taste. 
This Tomb of Absalom, in particular, belongs to that 
class. Ko intelligent visitor believes that it had any 
real connection with the unprincipled eon of David« 
Though it had, his name is at once reprobated and con- 
temned:- and thus in one case more we read the vanity 
of mortal man. He who had this mausoleum constructed 
here, no doubt, anticipated immortality for his name ; 
but instead of that, his monument, battered and rifled 
as it is, tells no more about hhn than we can tell of 
what is still a thousand years away in the distant 
future. 

The Tomb of Zechariah, not far from that of Absalom, 
is not less apocryphal It was at one time assigned to 
TTing Hezekiah, but now by mere force of traditional 
repetition, without any historical authority, the name of 
Zechariah is attached to it. But what Zechariah ? the 

D 



M TOMBS IN THE VALLEY. 

prophet, or who else ? That also is unknown, and a 
blind guide, tradition, is all we have to follow in the 
case. The structure is a square pile, about 20 feet high, 
adorned with Ionic pilasters, and having a pyramidal 
top— all cut from the solid rock. This monolith is de- 
scribed as containing a certain mixture of the Greek and 
the Egyptian styles, — " a link between the Pyramids 
and the Parthenon;" but more severe judges deem 
such criticism too encomiastic. It is not to be denied, 
however, that though the names of these tombs be 
utterly mythical, their presence adds beauty to the 
ravine, and imparts a shade of grandeur, gloomy, but 
not therefore inappropriate to the scene. 

At no great distance from the tombs now described 
there is another, near the village of Silwdji (Siloam), 
which is also hewn from the solid rock. It is said to 
be the Tomb of Pharaoh's daughter, whom Solomon 
married, and who caused that wise king to cease from 
his wisdouL But as that also is utterly mythical, we 
may leave it in the obscurity in which it has been for 
ages. Nor can we speak more positively regarding what 
is called the Tomb of Jehoshaphat It is situated be- 
hind that of Absalom, and is subterranean. The Jews 
are allowed to exercise entire control regarding it, and 
keep it always closed. The floating legends of the 
vicinity say that the Hebrews there preserve a copy of 
their law, with other relics of former days and former 
glory ; but nothing definite is known, and, perhaps, were 
excavations made, the spot would be discharmed ; it 
would just be one tomb more added to the others 
around it whose original occupants have faded away 



TOMBS IN THE VALLEY. 61 

from the memories of men, without an echo or a vestige 
to tell who they were. Each one, however, will answer 
to his name when the great muster is made for the last 
assize. How fleeting the things of earth 1 How stable 
the word of God! 

The Tombs of the Prophets have also been mentioned 
as existing in this vicinity, at least according to tradition. 
They are called also the Catacombs of the Mount of 
Olives, and lie somewhat to the south-west of the mina- 
ret which crowns that Mount. The entrance to these 
subterranean abodes is found in an olive garden, and 
the descent is by an aperture in the rock, which admits 
to a semicircular chamber, as that conducts the visitor 
towards the interior of the excavation in the hill side. 
The passage ends in a gallery connected with the first 
chamber, and various other compartments, galleries, or 
chambers, are mentioned as forming these crypts. They 
are described, however, by different travellers in very 
different ways. Some speak of them as splendid remains 
of antiquity ;.and one of the catacombs, called that of 
Helena, is spoken of as a monument of royal magnifi- 
cence, while others describe them as being one and all 
very rude excavations,— formed, some coiyecture, "for 
speculation purposes." The ornamental carvings are not 
allowed to possess much beauty. But after all the needed 
deductions have been made, our interest is Scarcely 
lessened in that strange under-ground world and under- 
ground existence, where generation after generation must 
have slept, till some ruthless hand scattered their 
remains to the wind. There can be no doubt that much 
of the ground near Jerusalem is hollow, oi at least 



52 THE T0HB8 OF THX EXJXQB. 

honey-oombed; aad if wibterranoan Borne iras repuitod a 
tmi for Borne in open day, the Bame maj perhaps he 
•aid of some parts c^the neigbbovxhood of the Jewish 
metropolisy now the aietrq;K>lis alike of Bosiamst and 
Greek, of Frank and Oriental 

m tOXBS 07 TEX XntGfiL 

The ruins or ezeayations known under this name 
desenre a mere particular notice. They stand upon a 
different side of the city from those which hare now 
been referred to, namely, on the road to Sychar, and at 
a short distance from the Damascus Gate. Though it 
is difficult to convey an exact idea of the place without 
a series of engravings, they should not be passed over, 
even in a bri^ account of Jerusalem. Whatever the 
antiquaries may eventnally decide xagarding them, 
these crypts are worthy of being the last resting-place 
of royalty. A pathway, eut in the solid rock, leads 
down from the level of the ground, to a large, open 
court, above one hundred feet square, also excavated 
from the rock. One end of that court is decorated with 
a portico, on which flowers and fruits are exquisitely 
chiselled; and to the left of that portico an entrance 
leads into an ante-room« twelve feet square, stiU out 
exdusively from the solid limestone rock. Passing 
through that room, the visitor miters anoth^ which is 
much larger— and still all solid, though seven or eight 
yards square. Through this stately chamber he passes 
on to five or six others, aU formed by the same process 
of excavation ; and round all these apartments, except 



THE T0MB8 OF THX KIKOS. 53 

the first, mches are cut in the lire roc^ as reoeptades 
for the dead. The eoveiings of these had been riehly 
carved, but they are now for the most part demolished. 
The doors of the chambers, of which none are now 
entire, had been made of stone panels, swung upon 
stone hinges, moving in stone sockets ; everything hero, 
in short, as well as the dwellings of the dead, has been 
fashioned from the rock, and this palace of departed 
TOjtltj seemed destined to endure, if aught earthly 
could do so. It may be noticed, moreover, that the 
decorations here are all joyous, rather than grave or 
melancholy; as if the associations of those dead with 
death were better represented by flowen and festoons 
than by the cypress and the skeleton. In a word, so 
exquisite were these tombs, that some regard them as 
those referred to by P^usanias, who names them along 
with the tomb of King Mausolus, which has become a 
very proverb for its grandeur. 

But whose tombs are these t Are they really the last 
resting-place of the kings of Judah, as tradition would 
teach t On the contraiy, their name is a deception, like 
much more in this land of supentitious falsehoods. 
Dr. Olarke, and after him Dr. Bobinson, reckon them the 
tomb of Helena, widow of Monobasns, king of Adiabene, 
who became a Jewess, and died at Jerusalem, in the 
reign of Olaudius Csesar. Ohateaubriand, and after 
him Dr. Wilson, assign them to the line of Herod ; but 
the question is too intricate to be considered here. 
Enough to say that they are not the tombs of the kings 
of Judah— enough to have pointed out the structure 
and the beauiy of these spacious dwellings of the dead 



54 THE TOMBS OF THE KINCM3. 

—a scene full at once of interest and of saddening 
amazement to the mind that thinks as it gazes. 

For one should not leave a spot so peculiar without 
glancing, at least, at the lessons which may there be 
impressed In all the pomp and circumstance, most 
probably of royalty, these tombs have been constructed. 
Many years, much treasure, and perhaps some lives , 
were lavished on excavations at once so elaborate and so 
tastefiiL As chamber after chamber was hewed out, and 
as niche after niche was formed, no doubt soiae one felt 
elated by the permanence thus given to his memory and 
his name. But alas for mortal man ! Who did all this? 
is a question now agitated, and not likely to be soon 
settled. Who planned a work in many respects so 
exquisite? Who constructed monuments so costly? 
Was it a Jewish proselyte? Was it the line of the 
Herods ? Was it some section of royalty just known as 
"the kings ? " All is uncertain now; and thus the great 
swelling hopes of men perish like a lie. No doubt 
when the Egyptian king had built the Great Pyramid, 
he deemed himself immortal — ^Awname would never rot. 
And yet for many generations he was utterly unknown ; 
and even after long excavations and much deciphering, 
we have arrived only at a good guess as to who the 
builder was. Were it not wise, then, for men to busy 
themselves somewhat more about the "honour which 
Cometh from God only ?" 

Amid the relics of former times observed in these 
tombs, is a stone formed so as to shut up one of the 
doors into the crypts. It is not easy to make its for- 
mation plain without an engraving; but those who have 



THE TOMBS OF THE KINGS. 55 

examined it with care, have told us that it very aptly 
illustrates the mode employed for shutting the tomb 
where Jesus lay. The great stone that was rolled to 
the door, the diflSculty of removing it,«the need of stoop- 
ing down before an entrance could be effected, and other 
things, are all made plain by a glance at this aperture. 
It is, in truth, another point of contact between eighteen 
centuries ago and this hour—another illustration of the 
Bible firom this wonder-land. 

But other thoughts press upon the mind amid such 
sepulchral depths. The niches are empty now, and not 
a bone remains to indicate their occupants, though fancy 
can well re-people them again. Men who had followed 
the fortunes of David, or admired the gorgeousness of 
his son, might occupy some of these tombs around 
Jerusalem. In later times, some of those whom the 
Saviour healed— the man of Bethesda, or Bartimeus, 
or Lazarus himself, might be laid at last in some of 
these dark recesses. He who once lay there saw the 
crucifixion; and he that slept his last, long sleep yon- 
der ^ saw the Saviour work his miracles ; — ^but conjec- 
ture is endless amid such scenes. Lone Judah here, too, 
surely weeps beneath her palm, and we of the west may 
deepen her dirge by adding ours :— 

•• Oh ! weep for those who wept hy BabeFs stream. 
Whose shrines are desolate, whose land a dream ; 
Weep for the harp,— lone Judah's broken shell; 
MoarD,-~where their God hath dwelt, the godless dwell** 

One regrets to disenchant any of the spots which 
have long stood prominent before the minds of men, 
yet we fear that that must be done in regard to — 



56 Tn£ POOL OF SILOAV. 



THB POOL OF SILOAU. 

Returning to the eaBt side of the ciiy, we find the in- 
termittent pool and stream of Siloam, or Siloah, which 
is mentioned in Neh. iiL 15, in Isa. viiL 6, and John is. 
7, 11. It is situated in the immediate proximity of the 
Valley of Jehoshaphat, or rather in it, at the mouth of 
the Tyropceon, the valley which divided the city into 
two, but which is now so much filled up with ruins and 
debris as largely to alter the contour of the space en- 
closed by the walls. The Pool is one c^ the most 
attractive spots near Jerusalem, though less so, perhaps, 
than poetry would persuade us. Its waters are described 
by some as sweet and copious ; by others as slightly 
brackish, though more at some seasons than at othera 
They flow from an artificial basin formed under a cliff, 
and immediately enter a larger reservoir, 53 feet long, 
by 18 feet wide, and 19 deep. Steps lead down to the 
water. The structure is decorated 'with pillars, sup- 
posed to be the remains of a former chapel, and the 
place is altogether such as indicates the importance of 
the pool and stream which— 

"Howed 
" Fast by the oracle of God." 

The water escapes by a channel cut in the rock. Where 
it is laid bare, the stream is abundant, and is drawn off 
to irrigate some gardens containing fruit-trees of various 
kinds, which in their turn add to the beauty of the place. 
Around the fountain many plants, nourished by the 



Tns POOL or siloam. sj 

rare molBture, still further augment that beauty; and 
the tinkling of the waters as they ''go softly," is a sound 
rarely heard in the vicinity of Jemsaleni. Indeed the 
fertility of this spot, its gardens and yegetaUe pro- 
ductions, and the precipitous <»«gs overhanging the 
whole, together with the sacred associations of the place, 
render it altogether a Bcette of grandeur. Some have 
even thought that the blended richness and sacredness 
of this scene, when seen in the light of the Bible, would 
repay the toil and trouble of a visit to the Holy Land 
Add to these its intimate connection with the Redeemer, 
and Siloam becomes a shrine, wh^e the reverent mind 
may happily find itself in close proximity with the Un- 
seen and the Eternal 

But it now appears that the first basin in which the 
waters are received is not the actual fountain-head. 
It is rather the outlet or terminus of a sinuous, subter- 
ranean passage, ascertained to be about 1750 feet in 
length, and which conveys the water from what is called 
the ^ Fountain of the Virgin,** in the Yalley of Jehosha- 
phat Dr. Bobinson and a fello w-travelier crept through 
that passage, at some personal risk, and thus demon- 
stoited the connection between the two fountaiDs. The 
opinion may safely be hazarded, that that discovery 
will be the precursor of many more of a similar kind, 
regarding the water-supply for the Temple service, 
and other things in regard to the Jerusalem of the 
Bible. 

We have called Siloam an intermittent fountain, but 
the term needs explanation. Dr. Bobinson records 
that he saw the water rise a foot in five minutes, at 



58 THE POOL OF SILOAM. 

the Fountain of the Virgin, the feeder of Siloam, and 
fall again in about the same space of time. An account, 
which is at least 1400 years old, runs thus : "Siloam is a 
fountain at the foot of Mount Zion, whose waters do not 
flow regularly, but on certain days and hours, and issue 
with a great noise from hoUowg and caverns in the 
hardest rock." After a thorough examination of Siloam, 
Dr. Eobinson suggests that the fountain now called the 
Virgin's may be the King's Pool of Nehemiah (iL 14.); or 
Solomon's Pool, mentioned by Josephus ; or even Beth- 
esda, mentioned by John. What a storehouse of con- 
jectures has this most historical of all cities become! 
And how satisfied is the soul jrhen it can fall back on 
the immutable verities connected with the Son— the 
Sent of God. 

At a short distance from the pool stands a sycamore- 
tree, which is said to mark the spot where Isaiah was 
martyred ; for it is believed that he was sawn asunder 
there, according to a common interpretation of Paul's 
aUusion in his martyrology, near the end of the Epistle 
to the Hebrews. Still further along the valley is 
En-Bogel,— at least what is believed to be its modem 
representative, — ^** the Well of. the Spies" (2 Sam xviL 
17), and now the Well of Job, or Joab. But here also 
conflicting theories are held, and one cannot wander 
long, or linger much among the marvels of Jerusalem, 
without feeling that, however needful for the eluci- 
dation of truth, these antiquarian contests are only 
by a few shades less vexatious than the myths of 
superstition, or the inventions of a gross and stolid 
ignorance. 



MOUNT ZION. n9 

In this neighbourhood, also, upon the portion of 
Mount Zion which is outside the walls of the city, the 
burial-place for Christians is now found. But neither 
traditional nor modern associations need be added to 
those which already cluster round Siloam, to render it 
a favourite haunt of the Christian traveller. Thither 
the Saviour sent the blind man to bathe his eyes, and 
thence he returned seeing, though no light had ever 
shone before for him — an emblem this of the better 
light which is shed upon the souL Many a traveller 
since then has bathed his eyes at that pool, not for 
miraculous healing, but for a kind of materialized 
communion with Him who wrought such deeds of 
mercy there. At that refreshing spot, moreover, we 
may picture the Saviour himself not seldom lingering, 
for it was not far from the pathway which led to his 
favourite home— if he had a ho^ie at all, — the abode of 
Lazarus, and Martha, and Mary; and no one can 
frequent that neighbourhood without feeling that the 
tie between things earthly and things heavenly becomes 
doser there, through Him who bridged the gulf which 
separates man from his God. 

HOTJITT ZIOlir. 

Few names ever pronounced by the lips of maai have 
given rise to more solemn associations than this. It 
would be long to tell how David first took this hill 
€rom the Jebusites, who had a fortress there, occupied 
the castle which he had stormed, erected fresh stnuc- 
tores, and made it at last the citadel of his capital. It 



60 IfOUKT ZION. 

YfBA in Bome sort the cradle of his emj^xe, as it became 
the home of its kings. 

Mount Zion occapies the south-west comer of the 
dty of Jemsalem. Descending the Valley of Qihon 
from the north-west, and through the Valley of the 
son of Hinnom till it apesa into that of Jehoshaphat^ 
we have the Mount upon our left, with its pendant, the 
Hill of Ophel, called by Josephus Ophla. Near the 
comer, at the junction of the two valleys, the sides of 
the rocks are cut perpendicularly, as if they had once 
served for colossal quarries ; and Mount Zion m there 
about 154 feet high above the Vall^ of Hinnom, where 
Ahaz and Manasseh caused their children to pass 
through the fire; so that atrocities the most revolting 
that earth ever saw, and which seem to rival the fiend- 
ishness of hell, were perpetrated under the very shadow 
of that Mount, conceraiag which we read, ^'I have set 
my King upon my holy hUl of Zion." At the junction of 
the two defiles, the height of the precipice, acoordii^ 
to Dr. Bobinson, is not less than 300 feet 

But the hill itself is the chief object of interest. So 
prominent is its place in Scripture, so largely has it 
been used in revelation, so much of our religion hovers 
round that elevation, that if we could blot from the 
Bible the passages which relate to Zion, the troth 
would be shorn of many attractions. Upon it the ark 
of the covenant once found a resting-placa. The kings 
of Judah had their palaces there, when it was adorned 
in a style which we can now scarcely appreciate; 
Thence went forth the law which was to guide all 
lands, and the gospel which was to gladden them. 



Mouirr ziov. 61 

David the king ibade Zion the burden of many a hjmiiy 
Prophet alter prophet told of its coming glory. That 
King who was set upon the hill of Son, and who was 
to dash in pieces all who resiiBted his power, derived 
some portion <^ his gloiy from the spot. Kowhere, in 
short, even in the land called the Holy, do we find 
moire crowding memories, more gladdening lessons than 
(« and around that little hilL 

Part of it is now occupied by a mosque ; other por- 
tions form a idoughed field, according to Micah's pre- 
diction (iiL 12); and many a traveller has thence 
bro^ht away some ears of grain to vegetate and half- 
hallow some garden in the West Within the mosque 
which crowna the summit, tiie tomb of David is said 
to be found, carefully sequestered from eyes not Moslem, 
yet penetrated by Western curiosity, and described as 
tawdry and mean to a degree that is (^nsive. Sus- 
picion may attach to the tradition in regard to the 
very spot, but we certainly know that '* David slept 
with his fftthers," and ''was buried in the city of 
David," or on Mount Zion. Moreover* Peter said in 
one of his first addresses that " the sepulchre of David 
was among them to that day." It was thus known for 
700 or 800 years after the great monarch's death, and it 
seems possible that on this Mount, perhaps in this 
veiy mosque, the tomb of David may yet be found. 
When Moslem bigotry shall have relaxed a little, and 
allowed competent judges to explore the place, questions 
which are at present insoluble may be solved. Mean- 
while, we may be satisfied that on this Mount the re- 
mains of David found a resting-place ; here his body 



62 MOUNT ZION. 

found a home, when his soul, according to his own 
matchless hymn, went up to dwell " in the house of the 
Lord for ever." The graves of foreigners, missionaries, 
and others, with at least one Christian church, are 
now found upon Mount Zion. A Protestant cemetery 
has at length been secured there ; that is, men have 
taken possession of it for Him who is judge alike of the 
quick and the dead, — and He will at last assert and 
establish his claim to all his own. 

But besides the tomb of David, Mount Zion is the 
site of the house said to contain the room in which 
Christ instituted the sacrament of the supper. It is 
reputed one of the oldest houses in Jerusalem, and 
some of those who listen to sentiment rather than to 
proof, or even probabilities, favour the supposition that 
this may be the very place where the Saviour said, 
" Do this in remembrance of me." "The building said 
to contain the tomb of David," writes a recent traveller, 
"and also the room in which Christ instituted the 
last supper, is one of the oldest in Jerusalem, and 
deserving of much more regard than it has yet re- 
ceived." But when we learn that at first the building 
was supposed to be that in which the disciples were 
alleged to be present on the day of Pentecost ; that it 
afterwards b^an to be called the Coenaculum, or Last 
Supper room ; and that, moreover, it was said to con- 
tain a pillar to which the Saviour was bound when he 
was scourged, as well as other relics, we pass into 
the region of pure inventions, and gladly fall back on 
the infallible Informant, illustrated by the general aspect 
of the spot, and the scenes around, which are unques- 



MOUNT ZION. 63 

tionably genuine and BcripturaL ^ The story of the 
Tomb of David is probably of Mohammedan origin," 
writes one ;— a thousand things in Jerusalem, one may 
safely say, are of monkish origin, and as mendacious 
as they are monkish. 

On its south-eastern slope, Mount Zion has been ex- 
tended, and its appearance altered, by stones and rub- 
bish. At some places in the vicinity, remains of the 
ancient walls are still visible in bevelled stones of pro- 
digious size, pointing, as many think, back to the times 
of the Herods, or even further stilL Some of these, amid 
the numerous overthrows, have been precipitated in 
fragments into the valley below,— at once fulfilling the 
Saviours' threat as to the razing of Jerusalem, in spite 
of the hugeness of its stone defences, and changing the 
aspect of the valley. Near what is deemed the Tomb 
of David, an Armenian convent raises its shapeless 
mass. It is a large, isolated building, and contains the 
tombs and monuments of the Armenian bishops of 
Jerusalem. But the stone which closed the sepulchre 
of the Saviour, when Joseph of Arimathea and Nico- 
demus, once the timid, but at last the bold, entombed 
him, is also pointed out here ; and at every step along 
these hills or lanes one is reminded of the treatment 
which the word of God has received at the hands of 
many commentators, critics, and men of every class. 
Places not a few appear here as sacred as aught that 
is material can ever be ; and that represents the inspired 
text. But interspersed with these are endless human 
additions, by which the native attractions of the place 
are marred; and these represent the vain glosses of 



1^1 MOUNT ZLOV. 

many a darkling critic and gloomy cBronicler. The 
written word stands calm, mijestic, and unique, em- 
bodying the mind of God : it is what Adolphe Monod 
on his death-bed called it,—" heaven in words." But 
man lays his hand upon that word. To one page he 
adds; from another he subtracts. Now, he mingles 
some of his own inventions; anon, he insinuates some 
deleterious ingredient, and thus too often succeeds in 
converting the fi>od of the soul into poiscm. One of 
the advantages of a viiut to Jerusalem is, a deeper 
conviction than ever of the need of clinging closer 
and closer to the infipred word, and confiding in it 
alone as our guide and our light on the way to eternity. 
All besides is a lie, or tends to lies. 

But something more than even monkish legends may 
be met with on these mounts. Oriental fancy, wild as 
that of the " Arabian Nights," still luxuriates here. 
Jewish wcsrkmen, for example, according to an ancient 
tale, were once digging on Mount Zion. They suddenly 
opened a vast hall, of magnificent proportions and 
gorgeous decorations, in which were found the tombs 
of David, and Solomon his son. The enormous riches 
of these two kings were also found stored up there. 
But a voice of thunder instantly warned the intruders 
to retire ; a storm of wind drove them from the place ; 
and the hall was closed, never more to be opened. 
According to another phase of the legend, the coffin of 
David, unapproachable on account of the glory which 
endrdes it, is hovering somewhere about Mount Zion. 
Nay, more, some Jews are said to hold that David is 
himself the Messiah, who is yet to oome and reigii in 



H0X7NT ZIOK. 65 

a gloiy of which his first empire was but a type. As 
all this is gratifying to their wounded spirits, so long 
chafed and fretted by the lies which they prefer to the 
truth of Qod, such legends are greedily believed, and 
perhaps the brilliance of such baseless hopes appears 
the brighter when it is contrasted with the cold and 
melancholy apartment which is shown as the Coenacu- 
lum of the Christian's Messiah. 

But though these things only help to obscure the 
truth a little more, and though €k)d in his holy provi- 
dence, working through many generations, has thrown 
down and remodelled not a little, in strict fulfilment of 
prophecy, Zion still rises as of old, sheer and steep over 
the neighbouring valleys. Though a considerable part 
of it is outside the cily walls, it may now, as of old, ful- 
fil the requirements of the assurance—" They that trust 
in the Lord shall be as Mount Zion, which cannot be 
removed, but abideth for ever." On the summit and 
the slopes of this ridge, superstition, as we have just 
seen^ has amassed many of its poor l^ends, and if any- 
thing could burlesque a scene so solemn, it would be the 
allegation that the column on which the cock stood 
which crowed to awaken the dormant conscience of 
Peter, is still found there. 

But in spite of such pretences, less equivocal sights 
greet us here. Olivet, and all its sacred associations 
are at hand. The brook Eidron is just below. The 
neighbourhood of Siloam, of the Field of Blood, and a 
hundred spots far more than classical, are near ; while 
the Holy Hill of Zion, where God set up the Priest upon 
his throne (Psalm ii), rivets our regards, till one longs 

B 



66 MOXTKT zioir. 

for the day when its encumbering rabbish, mateiial 
and moral, shall all be swept away. The promised tune 
foiU come when the Deliverer who came out of Zion 
shall be honoured there as well as all round the 
world. 

To acquire a correct idea of this Mount, description 
is not the best method: the ancient advice should be 
followed— ''Walk about Zion, tell the hi^ towers 
thereof," and then comprehend both its commanding 
position and its infinitely sacred associations. We are 
to remember that its summit is nearly as hi|^ as the 
highest point of land in England, being about 2200 
feet above the level of the sea. We are not to foiget 
what has recently been said,— that to a traveller iq> 
proaching Jerusalem from the west or the east, it must 
always have presented the appearance of a mountain 
city, beyond any capital of the known woxld. ''The 
mountain throne" — "the mountain sanctuary" — ^''the 
mount of €k>d" — " the moimtain which God desires to 
dwell in" — ^" in Salem is his tabernacle, and his dwell- 
ing-place in Zion,"— these, and countless other phrases^ 
aU teU of the glory of Zion, the "stronghold"— "1^» 
hill fort "— ** the rocky hold of Jerusalem"— the refuge 
where first the Jebusite, and then the lion of the tribe 
of Judah stood at bay. 

And it is not easy to break away firom such a scene. 
Looking once more over this Mount and the natural 
defences of Jerusalem, one is more and more struck 
with its proud position as a capital " The dark vale" — 
for that is tne meaning of the name " Kedron" — " the 
rfiyine," as the first syllable in Qehinnom or Qehenna . 



MOUNT zioN. er 

implies, — and the other natural munitions, give full force 
to the taunts of the old inhabitants of the place, when 
David appeared before the walls of Jebus. " Except 
thou take away the blind and the lame, thou shalt not 
come up hither," was the defiance ; meaning, perhaps, that 
the blind and the lame were sufficient for the defence 
of a place so strong. But proceeding far further back 
in history, through that r^on and near that town 
Abraham must have wandered Jacob in some of his 
movements must have done the same. Joshua when 
combating for the actual possession of the prcmdsed 
land; the Fhilistines, the Romans, the Persians, the 
Saracens, Turks, and Crusaders, have all made Jerusalem 
the centre of mighty operations. Its name mean» 
"vision of peace," and yet rarely has peace long pre- 
vailed within its walk, or in its neighbourhood. It 
may point, but it is by contrast, to that other Jerusalem, 
of which we know that salvation is its bulwark, and its 
gates praise. 

No doubt, it is a sad pleasure to walk about Zion and 
gaze on her decay. What has she been? What is she 
now? Exalted near to heaven once, but now brou^t 
down to the edge of the pit Yet the associations con- 
nected with her history and her name are perennial 
stilL From day to day for ever, she must suggest some 
of the most gladdening thoughts that can animate the 
hearts of men. And more remains to be discovered. 
In the minds of those who have explored her ruins most 
carefully, the conviction is firsEi, that under the Temple 
there exists a fountain of water, and a vast apparatus 
of galleries, conduits, and channels for difFiising it. 



68 THE VALLEY OF GIflOK. 

The Pool of Siloam and other pools, it is believed, are 
fed from that oentrai store of water, whether springing 
up on the spot, or conveyed thither in subterranean 
aqueducts ; and from this fact there arose in the old 
Hebrew mind some of the finest associations of their 
faith. "There is a river, the streams whereof shall 
make glad the city of God, the holy place of the 
tabernacle of the most High"—" All my fresh springs 
are in thee" — " Draw water from the wells of salva- 
tion,"— these, and similar expressions, it is believed, 
refer to a great central supply for Temple purgations, 
and Temple purposes altogether. The city of Zion thus 
becomes inwoven with the thoughts which are recorded 
to gladden all earnest souls. While we sing her songs, 
and make the sentiments of David our own, we are 
helped by figures fetched from the earthly Jerusalem to 
prepare for that which is heavenly. The fountains of 
the one become the " river proceeding out of the throne 
of God and of the Lamb" of the other— «o that the 
more we catch the spirit that reigned in some souls in 
Jerusalem of old, the better are we prepared for the 
beatitudes of that which is " the mother of us alL" 
But alas! Palestine is a land of ruins, and its ancient 
capital a city of death. The hands of ruthless men have 
spread desolation over all, and, like Jesus of old, we 
cannot but weep over her prostrate glories. 

THE YALLET OF GJSGS 

Stretches north-west and south from the Jafi& 
Gate. In the former direction it gradually opens up 
into the adjacent country, and in the latter it passes 



THE VALLEY OF OIHOIT. &t 

into the Valley of Hinnom, and so debouches into that 
of Jehoshaphat. It forms a natural channel for the 
water that falls or gathers on a portion of the country 
north and north-west from Jerusalem ; and, accord- 
ingly, we find in the valley the Upper Pool of Gihon. 
Its local name is Birket-el-Mammilla, and there is an 
unwonted concord in regarding this as the reservoir 
concerning which we read that Hezekiah " stopped the 
upper water-coiirse of Gihon, and brought it straight 
down to the west side of the city of David" (2 Ohron. 
zzxiL 30). An aqueduct leading from the pool into the 
city can still be traced at some points, and that is 
believed to shed light upon the passage just quoted : the 
king had the water conveyed into the city, instead of 
allowing it to flow down in its natural channel to the 
Valley of Hinnom below. It is supposed by others that 
the water was conveyed into the city, from springs . 
now unknown, by a secret and subterranean passage, 
that a besieging army might be ignorant of it. But 
however these things may be explained by future 
researches, the reservoir within the city called the 
Pool of Hezekiah, near the Tower of Hippicus, attests 
the opinion of former times upon the subject The 
concealed spring just referred to, if such there be, is 
not to be confounded with the Upper Pool, which is 
dry in summer, and filled only by the rain. 

Passing the Jaffa Gate on the left, we enter the 
lower segment of the valley, which skirts Mount Zion, 
and contains the Lower and larger Pool, or Birket-es- 
Sultan. Like the upper, it is supplied only by the rain, 
and most visitors agree to regard it as that to which 



fd tSK TALUST OF GlflOir. 

Isaiali refers (zxii. 9). It occupies the entire breadth 
of the valley, and is substantially constructed. Dr. 
Robinson mentions that the Upper Pool of Gihon is 
316 feet long from east to west, 200 feet wide at one 
end, and 218 at the other, the depth being 18 feet 
The Lower Pool is 592 feet in length ; its width at the 
north end is 245 feet, and at the south extremity 275. 
Though the bottom is encumbered with rubbish, the 
depth at the north end is ascertained to be 35 feet, and 
at the oppo9ite'e6d42. References to these pools are 
found in 2 Kings ziriiL 17, 2 .Chron. zzLL 30, Isa. viL 3, 
xxxvi. 2, and elsewhere. 

It is>below the Lower Pool that the valley contracts 
into a -mere ravine or delL ^Thte steep rocks on the 
west side are* honey^combed by^ caves excavated as 
sepulchres. These dwellings of the dead, so peculiarly 
Eastern, and so abundant in Palestine, are continued 
down the Valley of Hinnom; and as it opens into 
that of Jehoshaphat, which is crowded with the graves 
of many generations of Jews, this whole region appears 
to be an appropriate cincture for a city so decayed and 
so melancholy as that which was, and will yet be, a 
praise in all the earth. Death and its gloom, indeed, 
at present appear to be the chief characteristics of the 
place ; and were not the Lord of Life revealed to faith, a 
walk in Gihon, in Hinnom, or on Mount Zion, would 
often be a source of sadness inexpressible. 

The scenes or spots which have hitherto been 
described are chiefly such as the nature of the place 
or the contour of the ground indicates with tolerable 
precision. The Mount of Olives, the valleys, and other 



THE i:.-V /ORK 
PCB!;. L'B. ARY 



4^'lOn, i-t-NCX AND 
H JL 




HOLY SEPULCHRE. 



THZ CHUBCH 07 THE HOLY BBPULOHRB. 71 

thinipi^ no one can ever mistake, whatever soepticism 
may be eroked by supeistition as to the genuineness of 
certain alleged relics. But some of the places now to 
be glanced at belong to a different class. They are in 
part, at least— some would say wholly— apocryphal 
Only the fact that they are connected with Jerusalem 
can sare them from merited neglect. 

THE CHUBGE OP THE HOLT SEFTJLCHBE. 

This is to many one of the most attractive scenes in 
Jerusalem. Here superstition runs riot; here the 
impulses of emotion are substituted for the power of 
truth; and here Satan has his seat, — all amid hideous 
caricatures of the heavenly plan by which the lost are 
saved. Bogarding such spectacles, we cannot but 
re-echo the sentiments of one who said,—*' The first 
tendency of eveiy generous mind, on visiting Jeru- 
salem, is rather to acquiesce, if possible, in the truth of 
the traditions which fix the site of the sepulchre, than 
to cavil at a belief so dear to the Christian heart." 
But we must add, — ''A revulsion takes place, on be- 
holding the vile indecencies practised by superstitious 
votaries on the very threshold of the grave which they 
suppose to have been hallowed by the remains of their 
Redeemer." The impudent deceptions, the falsehoods 
which a little child may unmask, the utter antagonism 
to the records of the Gospel, and the outrages without 
number offered to common-sense, all call upon us to 
reject, and that without one moment's hesitation, the 
aggregate of incoherendes and manifest inventions 



7S THE CHUBCH OF THE HOLT 8EPULCHBE. 

with which credulity is duped. Amid such a laby- 
rinth, it would not be easy to give even a meagre 
outline of the marvels which are alleged to exist in the 
Church of the Sepulchre Its twin domes, its pillars, 
and its massive but tasteless bulk, all render it promi- 
nent among the structures of Jerusalem. Dating from 
the days of Helena and Constantine, or about the year 
d25, the church is alleged to contain or to cover aU 
the scenes made memorable by the crucifixion, the 
entombment, and the resurrection of the Redeemer, 
as well as much more that is purely fabuloua In spite 
of common-sense and the inspired narrative, all these 
are compressed into the space of a few square yards, 
and then superstition runs riot to dupe by its lying 
wonders. * 

The church consists properly of three divisions, 
of which the first and the largest is that of 
the Holy Sepulchre proper. The stone on which 
the crucified body was anointed and prepared for 
burial is there shown. The rock in which the tomb 

* We enumerate only a few of the marvels crowded under this chnrcli 
rooC The catalogue, without one word of argument, convicts the whole 
mass of imposture t — 
1. Stone of Unction. 
Ik Tomb of Melchizedek. 

t'"'* Tomb of Adam, and chapeL 
Place where Mary stood when 
« Christ's body was anobited on 

No. I. 
#'0hape1 of the Angel who 
announced the Resurrection. 

6. The Holy Sepulchre. 

7. Tombs of Joseph and mcodemus. 
a The " Centre of the World.** 
a Place where Christ appeared to 

Mary Magdalene 



10. Place where she stood. 

11. Part of the Pillar of Flagella- 

tion. 

12. Where Christ appeared to his 

Mother after Resurrection. 

13. Wliere the Cross was recognised. 

14. Place of Christ's bonds. 

15. Chapel of the Centurion. 

Ifi. Parting the Garments. 

17. Mocking; 

la Penitent Thlet 

19. — .— Finding the Cross. 
Sa Calvary and its details. 



THE OHUBCH OF THE HOLY SEFULCHBE. 73 

is allied to have been excavated lias been rnt away 
to a large extent ; but the place where the sepulchre was 
is still to be seen (men say), covered with verde antique 
marble and otherwise adorned, as Superstition well 
knows to do when commending her inventions for 
truth. Near the entrance to the place called the 
Tomb, a block of white marble is shown as the stone 
on which the angel sat to announce the resurrection ; 
and a crowd of supposed relics are paraded, all, we 
fear, more veritably worshipped than He to whom 
they are alleged to refer. Lamps to the number of 
about two hundred are perpetually burning, and orna- 
ments of the richest kind are heaped upon the structure, 
forming what even Stanley calls a tattered and incon- 
gruous mas& 

Acyoining to this store of traditionary imposture is 
the Church of the Holy Gross — that is, the cross which 
is alleged to have been miraculously discovered by the 
Empress Helena, though the legend should be blotted 
from the records of the past as one of the most unmiti- • 
gated fictions ever palmed upon man for truth, while, 
at the same time, it is a mockeiy to be asked to believe 
it. Among other things, a rent is here shown in the 
rock, the reputed' effect of the earthquake which accom- 
panied the crucifixion. 

The third church or chapel is that of Mount Calvary ; 
and there the rent appears again, with the addition of 
three holes, which are said to mark the spots where the 
three crosses were erected. This church contains the 
monuments of some of the Crusaders, — ^and these are 
realities. But amid the l^ends of the place, the 



74 THE CHUBCH OF THE HOLY SEPTJLCHBE. 

erowding decorations, and frequently the outrageons 
scenes which are witnessed among the rival worship- 
pers, with rival legends and rival nationalities to goad 
them, one is rarely disposed to exercise any faith at aU. 
On the contrary, the efiEect is often a sudden revulsion 
of feeling; and alas for man, if this were religion! 
Monks of all nations. Eastern and Western Latins, 
Greeks, Abyssinians, Nestorians, Copts, Armenians, 
Georgians, Maronites, and others, cluster in and around 
these fabrics ; and one has said, " Their songs are heard 
at all hours, both of the day and the night The organ 
of the Latin monks, the cymbals of the Abyssinian, the 
voice of the Greek caloyer, the prayer of the solitary 
Armenian, the plaintive accents of the Coptic friar, 
alternately, or at once assail our ears." The result is not 
worship, but a confusion like that of Babel ; not rever- 
ence, or awe, or sacredness, but the burlesque of all 
that is commonly held to be religion. 

And do these brethren all dwell together in unity 1 
Ah, no ! for around the supposed centre where the love 
of Heaven concentrated all its force, these worshippers 
have not seldom contended unto blood. Claims put 
forth by one sect and resisted by another, have led to 
fierce vituperation. Vituperation has led to blows and 
wounds, so that the floor which is held sacred has 
not unfrequently been stained by bloodshed. 

Though we do not enter upon the disputed points 
regarding the sepulchre and its church, every presump- 
tion and probability is against its genuineness. If the 
visitor is pleased to persuade himself that this is the 
place where the Lord lay and where his feet first pressed 



THB GHUBCH OF THE HOLY SEPITLCHBI. 75 

our earth after he returned to life, we may not chal* 
lenge the right to indulge such self-persuaeion. But it 
18 utterly impossible to render it probable, nay possible, 
that all that is said to be containea under that one roof 
could be compressed into that space, as it is by the super- 
stitions of the place. So wild are these, that they have 
actually brought under that church roof the spot where 
Mary stood afar off and witnessed the crucifixion of her 
son. We pass from the spot, however, satisfied with 
the fact that within the precincts of the city somewhere, 
nay, somewhere near this, Jesus died, and rose, and 
revived, the first-fruits of them that sleep. That is 
certain ; but the precise places are at the best matters 
of doubtful disputation, and, as light dawns upon dark 
Jerusalem, these legends will gradually die out 

Yet, while shunning the keen controveny, the fol- 
lowing very brief outline of the history of this alleged 
sepulchre and its pendants is submitted, that all may 
judge for themselves as to the probabilities or presump' 
tionsofthe cade. 

The site of the sepulchre, it is assumed, was well 
known to believers in the first centuries of the faith. 
According to Jerome, who wrote in the fifth century, a 
temple was erected upon it by Adrian, the Boman 
onperor. Helena, already mentioned, visited the Holy 
City about the year 325, and wsb led to the spot where 
the Lord had lain, by the Christians of Jerusalem. Her 
son was willing to displace a temple built to Venus 
by one of his predecessors, by a Christian church ; and 
he and his mother completed that undertaking. When 
the Pagan shrine was removed, a cavern was found 



76 THE CHURCH OF THE HOLT SEPULCHBE. 

answering in all respects to the description of the tomb 
of the Redeemer given by the Evangelists ; and many 
persuade themselves that that cave is his true and very 
sepulchre. True, an ecclesiastical historian of Gonstan- 
tine's time, namely, Eusebius, ascribes the discovery to 
the emperor, and not to Helena. True, also, some legends 
connected with other discoveries of the empress, are so 
manifestly got up for a purpose, that credulity itself 
must have some compunction in giving them credit. 
Not merely the tomb, but the cross of Jesus was found, 
along with two other crosses,— those of the two male- 
factors ; but the Saviour's soon vindicated its supremacy 
by the miracles which it wrought. The inscription of 
Pilate, others allege, was the means of detecting the 
real cross ; but miracle or inscription, it is much the 
same— an impudent fabrication, which has, nevertheless, 
been credited by willing myriads for fourteen or fifteen 
hundred years. 

But to render the discovery complete, nails were 
found in the same pit with the cross ; and these were 
of course believed to be the nails which had pierced the 
victim. Two were lost, but the other two were wrought, 
by order of the empress, into a crown for her son; 
and hence the famous " iron crown" of Italy is believed 
to trace its origin up to the crucifixion of the Son of 
God. The wood of the true cross, again, was scattered 
in bits far and wide over the world. Enough of it 
is supposed to exist to build a war-frigate; and the 
churches which have been founded in its honour, or for 
its veneration, are made holy by possessing a fragment of 
the tree. The miracles wrought by its virtue, the 



THE CHI'BCH OF THE HOLT SEPtTLOHBlS. 77 

charm-like power of every kind which it possessed, it 
were long indeed to catalogue. 

But Chosroes, king of Persia, carried away the relic 
when he took Jerusalem. Heradius recovered and 
restored it with abject superstitions, but with imperial 
pomp. When the Crusades began, the true cross became 
the prize and the glory of the zealots, till it was finally 
lost at the battle of Hattin, and remained, as the banner 
of the Christians, in the possession of the victorious 
Saladin. In spite, however, of all traditions regarding 
either the sepulchre or the wood of the true cross, we feel 
somewhat ashamed of dwelling so long upon such base- 
less fables ; for, amid quotations from Cyril, from the 
Bordeaux Pilgrim, from St Willibald, and others, we 
still regard the whole as an utter fabrication. Let the 
traveller visit the Holy City with the word of God for 
his guide, and then all that is needed to draw forth 
reverence the most profound, or confidence the most 
complete, will be discovered. Beyond that, nearly all 
is uncertainty ; and the man that believes more, be- 
lieves because he wishes to do so, not because he has a 
rational basis for his convictions. 

It may have been noticed that nothing has yet been 
said regarding Golgotha; but, in truth, the New Testa- 
ment contains nearly all that can ever be known 
concerning it. '* The place called Golgotha, that is to 
say, a place of a skull," referred to by Matthew ; " the 
place Golgotha, which is, being interpreted, the place of 
a skull," mentioned by Mark; Luke's "place which is 
called Calvary,"— a word which means in Latin what 
Golgotha means in Hebrew; and John's "place called 



78 THB CH17BCH OF THE HOLY SKPULCHBH. 

of a skull, which is called in the Hebrew, (Golgotha," are 
now utterly unknown. The hillock is believed to hay« 
owed its name to its form ; but whatever gave rise to 
the title, the spot has for ever faded away; the place 
where the Son of God wa3 crucified and slain is un- 
known, like the grave of Moses. The same remarks 
apply to many other places called holy. The mere 
fact that so many of them are compressed together 
under one church roof, betokens a hardihood of impos- 
ture which would dare any fiction. The Christian has 
better helps by far than the true cross, or Pilate's 
inscription, or iron nails — ^he has the word and the 
Spirit of Grod ; and it is because so many have not, or 
had not these, that multitudes have been the ready 
dupes of such lying legends. 

It is difficult to form any accurate estimate of 
the riches of this church, or generally of the orders 
called religious in Jerusalem. Much that is tawdry 
and tasteless meets the eye, but a recent author* 
tells us that he was admitted to inspect the trea- 
sures of the Convent of Terra Santa at Jerusalem ; 
and his accounts remind us of the descriptions which 
are given of the glittering sights which greeted the eyes 
of the Spanish invaders of Peru. In the convent just 
named the treasures of the Holy Sepulchre are secreted, 
owing to a feud among the religious sects, in which the 
Greeks chaUenge the rights of the Latins, and the 
Latins quarrel among themselves. When visiting the 
convent, that traveller was led into a remote ro<HD» 

• Mr. W. C. Prime. 



THB CITDBGH OF THE H0L7 SEFULCHBB. 70 

which gave him at first no warning as to the treasures 
which were at hand. When exposed, however, they 
amazed him by their gorgeousness. One robe, a gift 
from a king of Spain, cost 100,000 franca. The 
emperor of Austria and the king of Naples were also 
represented by their gifts ; but Napoleon I. overtopped 
them aU. He bolstered up the superstition which he 
despised, and sometimes trod upon, by a priestly robe 
said to be worth half a million of francs. I4imp0, 
superbly chased, in gold and silver, were pendent from 
the roof of a closet ; and in drawers below them were 
the jewels of the patriarchate, diamonds, emeralds, and 
rubies, fashing, as the traveller rather grandiloquently 
narrates, ** upon superb crosiers and heavy rings ;^ but 
the narrative should be given at length, and in his owa 
words. 

''In one comer of a large room," he says, ''lay a huge 
pile, which appeared like the corner of a tin-man's shop 
and had not my attention been specially directed to it, 
I should have thought it a collection of old tin-ware, 
pans, and water-leaden-gutters, spouts, and such chan- 
deliers as I remember to have seen of old in the church 

at Liberty. This proved to be a heap of solid 

silver, more in weight, we believed, than half a ton, 
consisting of various church ornaments, and especially 
of huge candelabra, standing even seven feet high from 
the floor, wrought in beautiful shapes of the solid metal, 
and heavier than one man could well lift Near this, 
some rough doors, on a temporary closet being opened, 
disclosed an altar or a shrine of the same white metal, 
pure, rich, and elegant, more than six feet high, and 



80 THE CHUBGH OF THB HOLY SXFULCHBE. 

four in breadth, wrought in Gothic and other forms, 
and beautifully chased and finished. It was a present 
from some crowned head in years long past, and has 
been treasured in a garret chamber of the convent from 
the day it was received. Whether it will ever see the 
light, is a question I cannot answer. It may lie there 
a hundred years, to be seen only by such chance tra- 
vellers as Father Stephano shall be induced to guide to 
the treasure-room." 

Had the descriptions of this traveller upon some 
other points been less oratorical, a closer approximation 
might have been made to the value of all this hidden 
wealth. But according to his account, such are the 
riches of a Jerusalem convent— riches for which none can 
be prepared who have marked the nastiness and squalor 
of many of the monks. 

Before leaving the subject of the Sepulchre and itn 
church, we may advert to the motley aspect of its pre- 
cincts, at some seasons of the year. The tables of the 
money-changers in the Temple of old were trivial things 
compared with this spectacle. In front of the church 
are found tables, spread with coffee, sherbet, sweetmeats, 
and other refreshments. Pedlers are there, and the 
vendors of holy wares from Bethlehem and elsewhere. 
Crosses, rosaries, amulets, and shells with scriptural 
subjects carved upon them, all solicit the regards of 
the pilgrim. Models of the sepulchre in wood, inlaid 
with mother-of-pearl ; drinking cups made from the de- 
posits of the Jordan, with scriptural legends upon them; 
and many other articles, are found in the square; while 
the groups are as variegated, and almost as grotesque 



THE CHUBCH OF THE HOLY SEFULCHBE. 81 

as Harlequin. Latin, Armenian, Greek, and Coptic friars, 
Turkish, Amaout, and Arab soldiers, with languages 
which outstrip any known polyglot, all attract atten- 
tion. It is, indeed, the study of the eastern world, 
where man can be contemplated in some of his most 
characteristic aspecta The eflfect of the whole, how- 
ever, would be to desecrate the place were there any- 
thing sacred about it ; and Lord Lindsay was right 
when he said, if there he any sacredness about such 
places at all, it is not because of their scriptural cha- 
racter, but in consequence of the crowds of earnest, 
though unenlightened men who have in all ages resorted 
thither. But how many have resorted thither, and so 
cheated their souls, instead of resorting to the Saviour, 
and so making sure of life everlasting ! 

As superstition, then, generally melts away at the 
touch of truth, like hoar-frost at sunrise, these holy 
places are now regarded as mere curiosities by many 
intelligent men. From the days of Dr. Clarke to those 
of Dr. Robinson, few have credited the clumsy legends, 
unless they have gone to Jerusalem bent on yielding to 
emotion, not truth — the devotees of superstition, not 
the disciples of God's word. The problem which the 
abettors of such deceptions had to solve was obviously 
this: Given a certain limited space, it is required to 
compress into it the events which must have happened 
over a much wider area ; and that problem was solved 
at the expense of scriptural history and true religion. 
At the same time, the Church of the Sepulchre should 
be visited by all whose "feet stand within Jerusalem." 
There are lessons to be learned there concerning man's 

F 



82 THE OHITBOH OF THE HOLY SBPULCHBV. 

willingness to be duped, and the power of Mse religion, 
whicli are not so easily learned amid any other scenes. 
One intelligent traveller said, as he gazed on these 
sights : '* We seemed to realize it as a fact that we were 
literally in 'Sodom where the Lord was crucified.'" 
No doubt, men with certain ecclesiastical leanings 
would admire the apparent union of all sects here, as 
they seem to meet and to blend around this spot deemed 
sacred, and there appear to venerate the one Lord, 
though he was neither crucified nor buried here. But 
no real good can flow from a congeries of falsehoods — 
from figment heaped on figment till the mass be 
at once ridiculous and offensive; and* the scenes not 
seldom witnessed around that reputed sepulchre are 
precisely what might be expected to flow from these 
numerous and many- coloured errors— the shame of 
Ohristendom, were such things Ohristian. This much, 
however, is certain,— the time will come when what is 
here beheld in mocking caricature, will be witnessed in 
living reality ; and when brethren shall indeed dwell in 
unity, as they live by faith. 

Though reluctant to linger longer upon such a sub- 
ject, there is one heinous offence, not merely against 
pure religion, but against common decency, annually 
perpetrated in this church, which should not be passed 
over in silence. We allude to the crowning imposture of 
the Greek fire. It is meant to represent the descent of 
the Holy Ghost at Pentecost, and superstition seems to 
culminate in this appalling deception. It is annually 
wrought in the pretended sepulchre. Frantic crowds 
roam and rave through the church ; and on the Saturday 



THB YIA. DOLOBOSA. 83 

of Easter weA^ according to the Greek computation, 
amid processions and pomps which are themselves an 
insolt to the truth, preparations are made for the juggle. 
"The Bishop of the Fire" enters the sepulchre, and 
then the crisis hour soon arrives. The worshippers wait 
in breathless anxiety, and sometimes with no common 
symptoms of impatience, till a flashing light within 
proclaims that the miracle has been wroiight — the 
deception is complete — fire has come from heaven! 
Forward rush the impassioned devotees to light their 
candles at the holy flame, and in that rush many perisL 
On' one occasion four hundred fell under the bayonets 
of a guard of Turks, who attend to preserve something 
like order; but the whole scene and all its accompani- 
ments are so revolting that one gladly escapes from the 
mere recital It seems as if Satan were here doing his 
utmost to stamp out the TrutL 

THE YIA DOLOROSA. 

This is a street in Jerusalem well known to the tradi- 
tions, but utterly unknown to true history — crowded 
with relics, and myths, and fictions, but withal un- 
worthy of notice, were it not as illustrating the spirit 
which now reigns among the people called Christians 
at Jerusalem. According to some, the Via Dolorosa is 
first mentioned in the fourteenth century, and is meant 
to represent some of the more remarkable events con- 
nected with the crucifixion, or the Saviour's procession 
from the Judgment Hall to the Cross. Along this way, 
tradition alleges, the Saviour then walked, and at dif- 



84 THE VIA DOLOROSA. 

ferent places, or "Stations,** fourteen in number, Ms 
gafferings are represented; for example, his falling 
under the cross, and similar incidents real or invented. 
At one place an arch crosses the street, called the arch 
of the Ecce Horrvo; for there, according to the legend, 
Pilate united with the Jews in mocking the Saviour, 
exclaiming — "Behold the man!'* At another place 
where the Sufferer fell, his shoulder, or the beam of the 
cross, left an impression on the wall which remains to 
this day; and so through an absolute plethora of fictions. 
The houses in the street are comparatively modem. 
Intelligent men at once give up the whole as a huge 
fabrication, though others are found who contend for 
the authenticity of all the fourteen Stations. But the 
Churches which substitute Bacchanalian orgies for 
worship, — ^and such appalling impostures as that of the 
Greek fire for miracles — may well deem all other impos- 
tures trivial 

Yet, were it only to show more clearly under what 
masses of moral rubbish mind is crushed in Jerusalem, 
it were well perhaps to submit some more exact account 
of this "Way of Grief"— this model of man's walk 
through life. It consists of portions of several streets, 
and parallel with it is another narrow path, which Mary 
the mother, is supposed to have travelled while the Son 
was in the broader one. The Via proper commences 
in the street which leads up from the Gate of St. 
Stephen, on the east side of the city, and not far from 
the spot believed to have been occupied by the Tower 
of Antonia. Pilate's House or Judgment Hall is there 
pointed out. Close to the spot where Jesus fell for the 



THE VIA ]>OLOBOSA. 85 

first time is another where he exclaimed, ''Hail, 
Mother 1" and round that poor invention superstitions 
cluster with amazing fondness — it is a kind of basis for 
the Ave Maria of the Papacy. Kext, at a slight curve 
in the street which leads from the Damascus Gate, 
Simon the Oyrenian was compelled to carry the cross; 
and though He was thus relieved, the Saviour there 
sank exhausted once more. Then, near this point, the 
house of Lazarus is shown ; at a short distance that of 
Dives— the one as well lodged, thereat least, as the other. 
Soon thereafter men point out the abode of Veronica, 
who gave the Saviour her handkerchief to wipe his 
brow; which he returned stamped with his image — an 
Image which is now worshipped in St. Peter's at Rome 
(and perhaps a hundred other places), with a veneration 
which multitudes do not show to the Redeemer himself: 
and those who have seen cardinal, bishop, priest, and 
people, prostrate before that sham relic, can understand 
the dark depths into which the forgeries of former gene- 
rations have thrust down the mind of the present. From 
that Via Dolorosa, "the Stations*'— a Papal rite of 
marvellous efficacy— has spread far and wide. It may 
be witnessed in the arena of the Coliseum and else- 
where in Italy, everywhere depressing man lower and 
lower, and rivetting the chains which superstition has 
wreathed round the soul. 

In the same neighbourhood in Jerusalem, the 
alleged home of Mary the mother of Jesus is shown. 
The place of her death is also pointed out. The Coena- 
culum has been already noticed; but all these, and a 
thousand more, are to be swept away without «i 



86 THB VIA DOIiOBOSA. 

moment's hesitation. An English yisitor when tra- 
versing Jerusalem was sliown a honse in which he was 
told Napoleon Bonaparte had dwelt In reply to the 
question. When? he was assured that it was ''in the 
time of our Lord!** — ^and that information was just as 
veracious as much that is current in Jerusalem. 

It is well that a believer's hopes repose upon a better 
foundation than such legends supply, else the glaring 
and clumsy figments of the Holy City would make 
infidels of all thinking men. Such impostures are too 
solemn to be ridiculous, and yet too absurd not to be 
spumed away. " Enough of these absurdities," exclaims 
one. " Enough for the present of these scenes of fraud, 
folly, and shame," exclaims another; and though the 
Christian visitor may extract good even from them, the 
first impression is one of pain. 

Extract good ! How ? How extract good from false- 
hood) How derive any benefit from what may well 
make thinking men ashamed? Is it not good to be 
able to test such things by the Great Guide-Book? to 
find our religion there, not here ? to sit in sober judgment 
upon all that lies outside that volume, and say, "I 
know in whom I have believed 1 " That is our preroga- 
tive as soon as we imderstand the Bible, and commit 
the mind to the guidance of its truth. It judges all 
things, but is itself judged of no man. It is high above 
the highest, and it is good to have that fact pressed 
npon our notice, an it often is in the streets alike of 
Jerusalem and of Rome. What revolutions would 
follow the ascendency of that Book in either of these 
dties ! What lies would vanish away ! 



THE WAIUKGhPLACS OV THE JEWS. 67 

From a fictitious way of dolor, the visitor to JTeru- 
salem may pass to a real one. 



THE WAnnrG-PLACE OF THE JXW8. 

It is one of the most touching scenes in JerusalenL 
The Jews are there permitted to purchase the right of 
lamenting over the long desolations of their city, in 
sight of some of the remnants of its former grandeur— a 
portion, it is believed, of the ancient Temple court. The 
spot lies on the western exterior of the area which sur- 
rounds the Great Mosque, and is approached only by a 
crooked lane, which terminates at a wall in a very con- 
tracted space. The lower part of that wall is composed 
of some stones which are believed to hay e formed part of 
ancient Jerusalem ; and in sight of these, the people to 
whom the very dust of Zion is dear assemble to wail 
and to pray. " Two old men, Jews," writes Dr. Robin- 
son, referring to his visit to the place, " sat there upon 
the groimd, reading together in a book of Hebrew 
prayers. On Friday they assemble here in great num 
bers. It is the nearest point in which they can venture 
to approach their ancient Temple ; and, fortunately for 
them, it is sheltered from observation by the narrowness 
of the lane, and the dead walls around. Here, bowed 
in the dust, they may at least weep undisturbed over 
the fallen glory of their race, and bedew with thmr team 
the soil which so many thousands of their forefathers 
once moistened with their blood." 

Some who havevisited this place— consecrated at once 
by grief, by long centuiies, and most dreary memories— 



88 THE WAILINGhPLACE OF THE JEWa 

have described the scene in very touching tenns. Men, 
women, and children of all ages, from little infants up 
to patriarchs of fourscore, crowd the narrow enclosure, 
which is only about seventy feet long, by perhaps twenty 
broad. They press their foreheads against the beloved 
stones, and, after the crowd has dispersed, the grave 
and reverend men who linger behind sometimes weep 
sore for the hurt of the daughter of their people. Their 
tears drop to the very ground; and when about to leave 
the place, their face is still turned back, as if their hearts 
deaved to that wall Some of the more earnest devotees 
appear to be unconscious of any presence but that rem- 
nant of Jerusalem. " The scene,*' exclaims a traveller at 
least as fervid as judicious — ^" the scene was one not to 
be witnessed elsewhere on all the earth— the children 
of Abraham approaching as nearly as they dared to 
the holy of holies, and murmuring in low voices of 
hushed grief, and in sobs of anguish, their prayers to 
the great Qod of Jacob. Some kissed the rocky wall 
with fervent Hps. Some knelt and pressed their fore- 
heads to it. Some prayed in silent, speechless grie£,. 
while tears feU like rain drops before them." Some may 
suppose the scene to be over-described; yet, who will 
not sympathize with the down-trodden children of Israel 
in the city of their fathers ? The majesty of their grief 
demands respect from every human heart. Yet is there 
not a remedy 1 Has it not been said, that neither on 
(Jerizim nor at Jerusalem are men to worship God, as 
a local God, any more ? Nay, they are to worship 
him everywhere, and always in spirit and in truth, or 
he is not worshipped at all And need we wonder, 



THE WAIUKGhPLACB OF TUS JEWS. 89 

even while we may profoundly sympathize, when truth 
discarded ends in woe endured ?— when God resisted, 
ends in sorrow crowding upon sorrow ? 

But, passing from this view, the practice here referred 
to is at least seven centuries old. It is said to have 
cX)ntinued from the twelfth century, and perhaps from a 
still earlier period. Driven from the city by the Emperor 
Adrian, and permitted by Oonstantine toapproach near 
enough only to behold it from the nearest hills, the Jews 
were at length suffered to enter it on a certain day of 
each year, and to purchase an immunity from Roman 
soldiers to weep as they do still over their prostrate 
glories. Strange, but instructive, that even such sorrow 
could not teach them '* the wisdom which comes from 
above I" Surely in every aspect, and at every stage in 
the Jewish history, we read a comment on many a por- 
tion of the word, when we see that the nation once the 
most favoured is now the most sorely tried. 

But where do these woe-worn Jews reside in Jerusalemi 
Are they on a level with the rest of the inhabitants 1 
Their yearnings for the Holy Land are indescribable. 
" The air of that land makes a man wise." — " He who 
walks four cubits in the Land of Israel is sure of being 
a son of the life to come." — ** The great wise men are 
wont to kiss the borders of the Holy Land, to embrace 
its ruins, and roll themselves in its dust."^ — " The sin 
of all those is forgiven who inhabit the Land of Israel"— r 
These are some Hebrew sayings, which indicate the 
passion of the nation for the land of their fathers 
—blind, like other passions, but strong. What, then, is 
the condition of those Jews who dwell in Jerusalem ) 



90 THB WAIUNGhPLACE OF THE JEWS. 

Ifc is abject and forlorn. They inhabit a portion of 
the dty on the south, between the base of Mount Zion 
and the Mosque of Omar, called Harat-el-Youd. The 
men, deemed by some ** the aristocracy of all the earth," 
as they are indeed beloved for the fathers' sake, appear 
in their ancient capital under a somewhat different 
aspect from that of their nation in other lands. Their 
number is variously estimated at from 3,000 to 11,000 
souk— the first too low, and the second too high. They 
have fourteen places of worship, which they call syna- 
gogues; but most of these are as poor as the worshippers 
themselves. The service there, as elsewhere, has little 
of the aspect of devotion, and, though the floors of these 
synagogues are sunk below the level of the ground, to 
indicate. It is said, the lowly condition of the tribes, 
the effects of their sorrow do not appear in earnest wor- 
ship. One hears no cry like that of David of old, " 
God, why hast thou cast us off for ever?" No longer, 
for the most part, in circumstances for displaying their 
proverbial avarice, or exercising their talent for over- 
reaching and amassing, they here groan imder all the 
ills of poverty. They are not merely hated and reviled — 
they are paupers, at once an afflicted and a poor people, 
clinging to the skeleton of former greatness, but ex- 
I>ecting little rest now, till they find it in the grave. 
They are supported by the contributions of their 
brethren, far and near ; and were the tribes of the weary 
foot not reserved for some high destiny, their condition 
in Jerusalem would help to wear them out. They resort 
to it, however, to study the Talmud there, and then to 
lay their bones among those of their fathers in the 



THiB WAILINGhPLACE OV THE JVWB. Bl 

valley of Jehoshapliat. Zionward, the heart of eyery 
earnest Jew tends by a kw apparently as universal as 
that of gravitation ; but read, in conclusion, what one 
has written regarding this passion, — 

** No dime can change," he says, ''no condition quench 
that patriotic ardour with which the Jew beholds Jeru- 
salem, even through the vista of a long futurity. On 
his first approach to the city, while yet within a day's 
journey, he puts on his best apparel; and when the first 
view of it bursts upon his sight, he rends his garments, 
falls down to weep and pray over the long-sought object 
of his pilgrimage ; and, with the dust sprinkled on his 
head, he enters the city of his forefathers. No child 
ever returned home, after long absence, with more 
yearnings of affection; no proud baron ever beheld his 
ancestral tower and lordly halls, when they had become 
another^s, with greater sorrow than wrings the heart of 
the poor Jew when he first beholds Jerusalem." The 
Bloody Mary said, upon her death-bed, that when she 
died, the name of Calais would be foimd written on her 
heart ; and the saying is true, in spirit, regarding the 
Jews and Jerusalem. The further we see into the his^ 
tory of these monumental people, two things more 
and more vividly impress the mind : first, that the word 
of Qod is his indeed, and dictated by one who saw 
the end from the beginning; secondly, some grand 
future yet awaits the tribes, who find their meetest em- 
blem in the bush burning but not consumed. 



92 THE MOSQUE OF OMAE. 



THE KOSQTTE 07 OHAS. 

This is by far tlie most magnificent of all the build- 
ings in modem Jerusalem. Whether as it is seen from 
the summit of Olivet, or as examined in detail, as far 
as Christians are permitted to examine it at all, it is of 
exceeding beauty ; and could we forget that it crowns 
Mount Moriali, that it superseded the Temple of the 
true God there, and is, next to Mecca, the stronghold of 
the imposture, Islam, our satisfaction at the sight would 
be nearly all that such things can supply. 

As in the case of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, 
the Christian rival of the Mosque, we need not enter 
into any very minute or detailed description. A mere 
outline is aU that need be attempted. 

In the year 636, the Mohammedans, under Omar, 
took possession of Jerusalenf, and the Caliph determined 
to build a mosque on the site of the Temple. It was 
done, and some suppose that the present fabric is that 
which he erected. Others, however, allege that it was 
begun in the year 680, and completed in 687. During 
the Crusades, the building changed masters as the city 
did itself In 1187, when Saladin retook Jerusalem, 
the Crescent again supplanted the Cross. That cham- 
pion of Islam took part in person in the ceremony of 
purifying the place; and from that day to this the 
Mosque has been in the hands of the Mohammedans. 

It is with no common feelings that one contemplates 
this pile, which is really gracefid, at least as seen from 
a distance. The associations connected with its site 






AH?H3n Dnanj 



THE MOSQUE OF OMAS. 93 

are rivetting. There the offering of Isaac virtually took 
place. There David would have built, and there Solo- 
mon did build, a house to the Lord. There the daily 
sacrifice, and thousands of others were offered. There 
was the Salem of Melchizedek, the threshing-floor of 
Araunah the Jebusite, as well as the Temple of the most 
high God; and though the Mesjid-el-Aksa and other 
buildings have supplanted all these, their beauty has 
reconciled some of the devotees of art to the change. 
The Mosque is an octagon of sixty-seven feet on each 
side. The walls ^ are constructed .of diversely coloured 
marbles, risingforty-six feet ffpm the ground, and there 
supporting a circular wall which rises about twenty- 
five feet further. Upon this the dome is reared, about 
forty feet higher still; so that th&.height from the base- 
ment to the summit of the dome is about 110 feet. 
Inscriptions, in a sort of porcelain mosaic^ encircle the 
walls, and the effect of the whole is imposing in the 
distance. Indeed, of all the sights about Jerusalem, — 
we mean the sights which man has originated, — ^none is 
more attractive than the Grand Mosque. Were it 
"holiness to the Lord,*' and not a stronghold of im- 
posture, perhaps the very strongest on the face of the 
earth, the pleasure which it yields would be without 
alloy. 

The rock which gives one of its names to this struc- 
ture, or Kubbet-es-Sukrah, "the Dome of the Eock,"is 
loaded with rival traditions. It stands out in the centre 
of the building, in the marked deformity of a huge mass 
of Jerusalem limestone, surrounded by an iron railing, 
and canopied with cloth; and though the whole is 



94 THE MOSQUB OF OMAB. 

now trodden down of the Gkntiles, yet, as no doubt can 
exist that this is really a portion of Mount Moriah, it 
possesses all the interest which can attach to a spot so 
hist(H*icaL Superstition, indeed, may actually have 
adored it, as the poor demi-savage of the jungle adores 
the stone to which he daily prays for protection against 
his neighbour, the tiger; but still it is a bit of Mount 
Moriah— that much, at least, seems veritable fact. The 
rock is about six feet above the floor of the Mosque, of 
an irregular shape, about fifty feet long by forty broad. 
The interior decorations of the structure are said to be 
gorgeous, and some portions are so antique in appear- 
ance that many, without hesitation, aver that they are 
fragments of the Temple itself. Underneath the build- 
ing there is a crypt, which some deem the holy of holies; 
but Christendom is not unlikely to be ere long surprised 
by discoveries made in the under-ground world at the 
site of the ancient Temple. 

Here also, however, we must have tradition and 
legend. The rock just mentioned is believed to hang 
in air, about seven feet above the ground, supported by 
no wall ; in short, its position is the result of a perpe- 
tual miracle, and the origin of that wonder is as follows : 
Mohammed had occasion to rest on this rock. He rode 
from Mecca to Jerusalem in a single night, and after 
resting at this spot he started for heaven, commanding 
the enamoured rock, which was about to follow him, 
to remain suspended where it had begun its flight. It is 
just such an imposture as is practised by all the false 
systems, Islam, Hinduism, Popery, and others, from 
day to day. 



THB MOSQUE OF OMAB. 95 

Some allege that the Mosque contains the ark of the 
covenant. The stone which formed the pillow of Jacobs 
that on which the angel stood when about to destroy 
the city (2 Sam. xxiv. 16), and other relics, are also said 
to be there ; and the Jews, in consequence, still make 
this the centre of their hopes. To Mohammedans it is 
second in sacredness only to Mecca, and many nominal 
Christians seem to offer it a homage as profound and 
sincere as they. The Mosque itself is second only to 
that at Cordova in Spain ; and its enclosures, its olive, 
orange, and cypress trees, its reservoirs and fountains, 
with its inlayings, beautiful but hastening to decay, 
are all loudly eulogized. The seat on which Mohammed 
is to sit to judge the world (a fragment of a broken 
column) is there, besides many antiquities, crypts, and 
vaults, which are punctiliously kept from Christian 
inspection. In recent times, however, some have been 
admitted— Richardson in 1818, Bonomi, Catherwood, 
and Arundale, in 1833, and increasing numbers in more 
recent times. By the help of these explorations, the 
antiquities of the Temple become better and better 
understood; but the chief conviction that rises in the 
mind at such disclosures is, that they betoken the ad- 
vent, slow it may be, and distant yet, of that day when 
the abomination shall be swept from the spot, and when 
He whose right it is to rule shall take possession of all 
his own.* 



* In exploring at no little peril, and with enthusiastic pains, the crypts 
and recesses below the Mosque, Dr. Barclay disoorered, among other 
things, a prodigious tank or cistern, about 750 feet in drcnit,— a depOt of 
water for the lemple serrioe, and supplied, it is beUeved, by the water 



OC THE POOL OF BETHESDA. 

Near the Gate of St Stephen, on the east side of the 
city, we find what some regard as— 



THE FOOL OF BETHESDA, 

though others are sceptical as to the propriety of the 
name. The evangelist John uecords that there was ** at 
Jerusalem, by the sheep market [or gate], a pool which 
is called in the Hebrew tongue Bethesda, having five 
porches" (chap. v. 2). These porches were designed for 
the accommodation of the sick who resorted thither on 
account of the healing power of the water as described 
by John. The place now called the pool is a large 
reservoir outside of the enclosure round the Temple 
mount, but it has been dry for 200 years and more. 
The east end of the basin is close to St. Stephen's Gate, 
and the whole measures three hundred feet in length by 
one hundred and thirty in width, and seventy-five in 
depth, exclusive of the rubbish heaped up in the coui-se 
of ages. The sides are faced with stones and plaster, 
and some arched vaults at the western extremity appear 
to connect the place with the porches mentioned by the 
evangelist, though many doubts are suggested by an 
examination of the spot. 

But we need not enter far into the antiquarian inqui- 
ries raised by this subject, nor detail the different sug- 
gestions in regard to Bethesda. While some argue 
keenly for this spot, others suggest the Fountain of the 

brought from Solomon's Poola by the aqaeduct which passes Bethlehem, 
and is found to disappear beneath a waU beside the Haram, or If osqno 
endosureL— CV^^Me Great King. 



THE POOL OF BETHESDA. 97 

Virgin as tliat pool, while another class prefer for 
Bethesda the Birket-el-Hejjeh, a little outside the city 
walls to the north of St. Stephen's Gate. But which- 
ever of these places shall eventually be found to be the 
true Bethesda, it may suffice to say that the place which 
at present bears that name is probably part of the trench 
dug near the Fortress of Antonia to render it impreg- 
nable, as^ Josephus has described. We must again, 
therefore, be contented with knowing the fact that near 
this, at least, the great Wonder Worker performed one 
of his deeds of mercy, and liberated a son of Abraham 
who had been bound by disease for eight and thirty 
years (John v. 2-9). If the coigectures which connect 
the present Bethesda with the Temple walls, ever be 
authenticated, that will simplify the question. Mean- 
while it is " a joy for ever," that He who wrought that 
cure eighteen centuries ago and more, is still doing 
greater things for the sons and the daughters of sorrow 
— even healing aU their diseases, and redeeming their 
lives from destruction. 

In these brief sketches of the City of the Great King, 
its ruins and its sadness, we have seen again and again 
how the whole place is overlaid by legends, and we can 
easily discover a final cause why it should be so. The 
builders of Babel, in their ambitious projects, were 
baffled by "God only wise," when their speech was con- 
founded, and their plans turned into foolishness. With 
equal wisdom he has hid from men what was sure to 
minister to their native idolatry. Little, indeed, is 
known of the spots consecrated by the Eedeemer's 
presence. Except in a general sense, nearly every one 
o 



98 JEBUBALBM UKDES-OROUNB. 

of them is an arena for debate and nothing mora Su- 
perstition must be both abject and rampant ere it can 
credit the traditions. Men haa)e become idolaters ; for 
the doings and the creed of many in Jerusalem is as 
certainly idolatrous as the worship of any heathen god 
can be. Withal, however, God has in his holy provi- 
dence so ruled all, that he will be clear when he judges 
men for these idolatries. He has concealed; they have 
pretended to discover,— but have only "sought out many 
inventions." They are mad upon their idols. Their 
voracity for lying wonders is unutterable ; and for all 
these, sin lies at their door. How blessed they who 
have fled to the Deliverer who came out of Zion — ^who 
rise from the Jerusalem of the cross to the Jerusalem of 
the crown—who have sat down at the feet of Him who 
is the Truth— or who have followed him, and refused to 
follow a stranger ! 

JEBTTSALEM Tnn)ES-GBOXnn). 

It is well known that many tombs are excavated in 
the solid rock around Jerusalem, and several of these 
have been already noticed. Under many of the houses 
also, or in connection with them, water tanks are found, 
some of them large and capacious ; and excavations in 
the rock, or under-ground structures, are rife in the sacred 
city. Recent years, however, have brought to light a 
vast subterranean quarry, which is certainly one.of the 
marvels of the place, and no account of Jerusalem can 
now omit a description of the monster crypt 

The only entrance yet used is by an opening not far 



JEEUSALEM UNDEK-GROUND. 99 

from the Damascus Gate, and close bj tlie city wall. 
It is blocked up by stones and rubbish, but, these re- 
moved, access is obtained by a narrow passage, into 
which the visitor must cre^p and struggle forward as 
best he may. The descent from the end of the passage 
is some feet in depth, and then the floor of the cave is 
reached. All is rock, above, below, around, and the 
scene, as beheld in the only light that iS available, 
namely, that which is carried in the hand of the explorer,' 
is one of the most remarkable about Jerusalem. The 
floor is uneven, and walking somewhat perilous. At 
some points, water dripping from the ceiling forms sta- 
lactites, with their counterpail; stalagmites, as may 
easily be supposed in a limestone region. The convic- 
tion of every visitor seems to be, that this is some pri- 
meval cave expanded into a quarry, where some of the 
stones are still in situ, partly cut from the rock, with the 
marks of the workman's hammer still fresh upon them. 
Others are ready to be removed ; and piles of chips and 
rubbish indicate beyond a question what the purpose 
of the excavation was. Its proximity to Moriah sug- 
gests the thought, that it might be the quarry which 
supplied stones for the Temple,— that house which is 
described as being built ** so that there was neither 
hammer, nor axe, nor any tool of iron heard in the 
house while it was in building." Should this conjecture 
ever bo authenticated, the coincidence would be one of 
the most remarkable yet detected in the Holy Land, 
teeming as it is with such apt collocations. ' 

There are side galleries diverging from the main 
cave, which have not yet been fiilly explored; and when^ 



792076 A 



100 CJONCLUSION. 

these are all examined, more may be known of this 
excavation. Some have penetrated to the distance of 
about seven hundred and fifty feet from the entrance. 
Others give different estimates of the extent of the 
cavern ; but at present we must wait for light. — It is 
known from history that there were deep hiding-places 
under the city of old ; and further explorings may tell 
us more upon the subject Meanwhile, we leave this 
'wonder as one of those which indicate how all things 
in that land — ^in the sky above it, and in deep caverns 
beneath — ^point in the direction of the truth of Scrip- 
ture. We are not prepared to say more than that it is 
probable that stones for Solomon's Temple may have 
been taken from this quarry; and if so, how luminous 
does the narrative become of the noiseless progress of 
that erection ! Like the excavations of Nineveh and 
Shushan, shedding light on some dark places of Scrip- 
ture, these deep recesses give verisimilitude, even from 
the natural, or material side, to the sacred narrative, 
while the spiritual aspects of the truth become brighter 
and more beauteous than ever. 

CGNCLUSioiar. 

And thus do we close a glance at some of the peculiar 
attractions of the City of David. — The ruins of Ba'albec 
•are a great mystery. Who built those noble piles? 
For what were they designed ? Ten antiquarians would 
perhaps give ten different replies. And Palmyra, by 
the vastness, though not by the taste of its remains, 
surpasses even Ba'albea Petra, Pestum, Athens, Eome, 



CONCI.T78IOK. 101 

BaisB, and a hundred other scenes^ all appeal to our 
pity, and touch our hearts. But for Jerusalem we can 
only, like her own captives of old, hang the harp upon 
the willows and weep ; or, like her king, " cry out of 
the depths'* on her behalf. Wherever we gaze in Jeru- 
salem, the eye rests on desolation— the very Mosque is 
the abomination of desolation. The city seems clothed 
with a pall; and yet to it and its sacred scenes we are 
attracted as if by a spelL We cannot venture to pre- 
dict what is to occur in the course of ages, or tell what 
may be the effects of those tendencies which are still 
carrying men literally in ship-loads to Palestine, and 
its capital But this is certain : from year to year, the 
prostrate city is becoming better known, and more 
attractive to the Western nations. The truth as it is in 
Jesus has made some progress, though, for obvious 
reasons, not much; and if the relaxation of Moslem 
fanatidsm lately granted by the Sultan be carried out 
in good faith, we or our children may yet see marvel- 
lous things in Jerusalem and the Holy Land. 

Meanwhile, and in conclusion, we observe, that in 
Palestine in general, but especially in its capital, the 
question often occurs, Do the Moslem give honour to 
the Saviour? Are they in any sense predisposed to- 
wards himi Job and Abraham, David and Solomon, 
with all the great names of the Old Testament, are 
deferred to, although their writings are corrupted, and 
their religion yet more. To what extent, then, does 
this deference or homage apply to the Eedeemer 1 He 
also is deemed a prophet, and second only to Moham- 
med. The Koran places that " Beau Sabreur"^r«^, but 



102 CONCLUSION. 

it neither ignores nor denies the prophetic power of 
Jesus. He is not allowed to be divine, but his cruci- 
fixion, by the substitution of another in his place, is 
conceded. His ascension to paradise without tasting of 
death is believed by some, but denied by others ; and all 
orthodox Mohammedans are said to believe that Jesus 
will return to this world before the judgment, will die, 
and be buried beside Mohammed. Such are some of 
the raving incoherences of Islam regarding the Son of 
Qod; and these opinions have led some to re^rd it 
rather as a corruption of Christianity than as an un- 
mixed delusion. The Socinians have even overtured the 
followers of tiie impostor on the subject of their com- 
mon views. But the doctrine of atonement, with all 
that it pre-supposes and implies, is resolutely denied ; 
and Islam is thus detected as hopelessly, irremediably, 
and utterly a falsehood— it leaves man without one 
single hope. 

Again, a visit to the Land of Promise, so long the 
land of griefs and of oppressions, furnishes a thousand 
proofs and confirmations of the Bible. It is, indeed, a 
second Bible, all responsive to the first. Some have 
been afraid to visit that land, lest the halo of glory 
which environs the Saviour should be dimmed by fami- 
liarity there, should lose its power by proximity, and 
leave the mind in doubt. To walk the streets which 
Jesus walked— to climb the hill which Jesus often 
climbed — to look up to the same stars from the same 
spot where Jesus beheld thcm~to wander by the Jor- 
dan, or dwell at Nazareth, or sail on Gennesaret — ^to' 
sojourn at Bethany ; or walk to Bethlehem,— might not 



CONCLUSION. 103 

these tend to dissipate what is celestial in our associa- 
tions with the Blessed ? Some have thought so, but the 
reality has been different from the fear. The truth of 
Qod'has stood out in more vivid prominence— it has 
seemed more and more his truth amid the sights and 
scenes of his favoured land. Buttress after buttress 
was discovered, which fortified the faith of those who 
had faith at all; and though he told the truth who said 
so sadly — 

** We roam by Jordan's aacred tida, 
And weep by ruins grey ; 
For who would care his tears to hide 
Near Jndah's sad decay ? ** 

the whole is still a grand demonstration that God is in 
the Bible of a truth. It is thus the best guide-book to 
the Holy Land, as the Holy Land is one of the best 
commentaries upon it. 



JERUSALEM 

AND ITS ENVIRONS. 



THE EMIRONS OF JERUSALEM 



EXCDRSION I. 

THE UOTTNT 07 OLIVES. 

It is a very instractive fact, that at one period the Tery 
name of Jerusalem had perished from the lips of men. 
During the first half of the third century it was super- 
seded by that of ^lia, derived from one of the Boman 
emperors ; and when that city which had once been the 
joy of the whole earth was mentioned by any one who 
knew somewhat of its history, men had actually to ask 
where Jerusalem had stood I The Jews were long pro- 
hibited, under pain of death, from approaching their 
ancient capital, which to all the world but them lite- 
rally retained only '* the shadow of a name." Slavery 
with all its miseries, and the contests of gladiators at 
Bether, at Banias, at Bome, and elsewhere, where the 
captive Jews were butchered in crowds to make a 
Boman holiday, had done their terrible work. Wild 
beasts of the forest often found a kinder reception from 
man than the abject children of Abraham, and hence 
the name of their capital perished from the memories 
of men. 



108 THE MOUNT OF OUYES. 

But all that has changed many centuries ago. In 
our day, at least, a thousand facts attest that the very 
dust of Jerusalem is dear to many. They never weary 
of her strange, eventful history, and never cease lament- 
ing for her long catalogue of woes. The future destinies 
of that city at whose ruins we have just come from 
glancing, are bound up with the interests and aspirations 
of all the nations of the earth. Little as men think it, 
the destinies of our world are strangely mixed up with 
the destinies of the Jews. Some mysterious future is 
theirs, and grand as mysterious, and we are now to 
deepen the interest already felt, by some Excursions to 
remarkable places around the Holy City. 

The Mount of Olives has already been repeatedly re- 
ferred to, but a more deliberate visit than has yet been 
paid may not be without some good result. 

It is well known that no spot near Jerusalem, and 
few in Palestine, can be more favourable for a wide and 
panoramic view than the summit of Olivet. Thither 
every traveller is sure to resort, perhaps on the very 
evening of his arrival in the city of the Great King. 
Indeed men rush to it as to the Forum or the Capitol 
in Bome, or to Mars* Hill at Athens, and the place 
is visited again and again, tiU it becomes, in some 
measure, a second home to the wayfarer, at once on 
account of the beauty of the scene, the sacred associa- 
tions that gather round the Mount, and the wide range 
of prospect which it affords over the mountains, seas, 
and rivers of the goodly land 

Let us suppose, then, that the tourist has ascended 
that height at morning or at evening, to see at a glance 



THE MOUNT OF OLIVES. 109 

sach scenes as could nowhere else in the world be seen. 
He has passed the brook Kedron, he has glanced along 
the Valley of Jehoshaphat, and admired the position 
of Mount Zion, and its flanking battlements. He has 
perhaps turned aside for a first look at the Pool of 
Siloam, and may have lingered for an hour or two near 
the spot where Glethsemane must have been, whether 
the lonely and solemn, but all too modem claimant for 
the honour be genuine or spurious. In that brief walk 
that visitor has already trod where David, where 
David's Lord, where the apostles, and many whose 
names are in the Lamb's Book of Life, have trod be- 
fore—he has reached the structure called the Church of 
the Ascension, though it is well known that the Saviour 
did not ascend from that spot at all, and now there is 
spread out before him a thousand scenes familiar from 
boyhood, and at length beheld, perhaps through tears. 
Below the Mount is the sacred city, with its domes, 
minarets, towers, and fortifications, imposing even in 
its decay— wearing the aspect of a deserted place, yet 
drawing forth our deepest sympathy for the same 
reason as that which constrains us to pity the father- 
less and the widow. From the ihinaret of the mosque 
which has usurped the chief honours of the Church of 
the Ascension, the glance over Judea is grand On the 
east, and in the far distance, perhaps five-and-twenty 
miles away, are the mountains of Moab, the eastern 
boundary of the Dead Sea, among which we must look 
for Nebo and Pisgah, if they are ever found at all, as 
well as many other spots celebrated in the early history 
of the Hebrews^ from their wars with Moab, and their 



1 10 THE MOUNT OF OLIYISL 

croanng of the Jordan, down to the last days of their 
existenee as a people. At some points the visitor can 
trace frcHn this pinnacle, the Valley of the Jordan, 
chiefly by means of the deeper green which fringes it, 
although that demands a peculiar state of the atmos- 
phere to favour the view. The glittering surface of the 
Dead Sea can also be seen to a limited extent— and 
here for the first time is that mysterious abyss beheld 
by many a western eye. It is well known that that sea, 
the absorbent of a large river, for which it never renders 
any account, is depressed more than 1300 feet below 
the level of the Mediterranean. The minaret on Mount 
Olivet cannot be much less thap 3000 feet above that 
level, so that in looking across the fifteen or twenty miles 
which separate us from the Dead Sea, we are looking 
down into an abyss about 4300 feet deep. Its shores 
have for ages been the haunts of fierce Bedawin, whose 
pastime is war, and whose livelihood is plunder. Yon- 
der stood Sodom and Gomorrah, and there fire from 
heaven did the work of the Almighty, while the hor- 
rors of the final day were rehearsed 

In the foreground of this picture, and a little to the 
north, lies the wilderness of Judah, wild, rocky, and 
scarred with ravines not a few. Within that space 
many of the wonders of the wonderful people befelL A 
quick eye may discern, for example, the outline at least 
of the high land near Engedi, 'Hhe fountain of the goat,'* 
and other scenes which are prominent in the adven- 
turous life of David on his way to the throne, or even 
after he had been crowned. Even though we leave out 
of view all that is legendary or questionable, we have 



THB MOUNT OF OLIVBa 111 

here a field of yiew which is crowded with objects so 
interesting as to be exciting. The very pathways which 
leave the capital for Bethany, for Jericho, and other 
places, have charms not a few ; for He who lived as 
never man lived, and spake as never man did, has often 
trod them alL Ear away, in yon dim distance, near 
the Jordan, he was probably tempted, (Matt iv.) 
Nearer at hand he wept over Jerusalem, and foretold 
its doom. In brief, half an hour's contemplation of 
these regions from such a spot will teach one more 
about the Holy Land than a hundred volumes, or a 
thousand antiquarian discussions about worthless tra- 
ditions. 

Yet the prospect Jordanward is melancholy. One 
rannot but recall the fertility of Jericho, the proverbial 
richness of its plain, and its magnificence when Herod 
the Bloody made it his home. Now how waste and 
dreary ! — a desert instead of a garden,— rugged sterility 
instead of unstinted luxuriance. From the immediate 
neighbourhood of Jerusalem to Jericho the eye wan- 
ders over dreary desolation ; or if a green spot here 
and there diversify the waste, it is only to render the 
whole more saddening by the contrast. 

From the same elevated point we may trace the view 
over some distance to the south. One can there see the 
hills which surround Bethlehem, and so wake up all 
the associations which cluster round that place. There 
prophecy upon prophecy was fulfilled. There the Desire 
of all nations appeared, lonely, yet profoundly honoured, 
— a source of terror even then to tyrants like Herod, as 
he has been a source of joy and rejoicing to ten thou- 



112 THB VIEW TO THE WEST. 

sand times ten thousand from that time to this. The 
Frank Mountain is nearer at hand, environed with hills 
and deep ravines— the spot where the crusaders are 
believed to have made one of their last struggles before 
quitting Palestine. But without dwelling on aught so 
modem or so questionable, we need think only of BibU- 
cal associations — and as the eye ranges over the south- 
em slopes of the land, the soul may be drinking in re- 
newed vigour to its faith, while it grows in familiarity 
with the attractions of Palestine. That eye is tracing 
the scenes where the magi followed the new star — 
where they spread out their offerings, and where it be- 
came a literal tmth, in terms of Solomon's exclamation 
of surprise, that Grod in very deed dwelt upon earth 
among men. 

THE VIEW TO THE WEST. 

Hitherto we have gazed at desolation from the mina- 
ret ; with the exception of the city below, scarcely a 
symptom of life or activity can be seen. Nearly the 
whole landscape is composed of dreary hills, wadies, 
rocks, ravines. But when we sweep round to the west 
or north-west, the visitor is regaled by sights long 
familiar to mind and memory— all now embodied be- 
fore him. Yonder are Ramah and Gibeon, and there 
is the most prominent hill in the vicinity of Jerusalem, 
Nebi Samwil, or probably Mispah— at the distance of 
about two hours from the Damascus Gate. It was 
long regarded as the home of the prophet Samuel, and 
hence its name ; but more exact investigations make 



THE VIEW TO THE WEST. llj 

the place the Mispah of Saul. Here also opinion is 
divided ; but whatever may be the ultimate decision^ 
the mosque on that hill, which has superseded a Chris- 
tian church, commands a view of the land from the 
Great Sea, west, to the Jordan on the east. Such is 
one " of the mountains which are round about Jerusa- 
lem," at once its defence and its glory. From that emi- 
nence the Mount of Olives is seen, and Jerusalem at its 
base. The Frank Mountain, Eamleh, El-Gib, El-Bireh, 
and many other places— Shiloh, and its long sacred 
vicinity, Bethel, now Beit-in,and other Biblical spots, are 
within the elevated range ; and if the wayfarer be a stu- 
dent of the Bible in spirit and in truth, he may study it 
here with a keener relish and a more comprehensive 
understanding of its histories. 

Once again, however, and often, we must ask, Whence 
these sad desolations 1 Whence these hill sides often so 
bleak and bare in our day — so terraced, and laden with 
rich productions in the days of old f Whence these 
nameless ruins, or if named, why does groping super- 
stition say one thing and the Bible another) Men 
often marvel at the dreariness of the Campagna 
around Rome ; but is not nearly the whole of Palestine 
one vast Campagna, often leafless, seared, and deeply 
scarred with the ravages of eighteen centuries of woe 
and desolation) The wonders of the scene are enhanced, 
when, in spite of all that desolation, the heart still 
clings to this blighted land as to a fondly-cherished 
home : we feel towards it as to a living being when it 
suffers. This survey from Jebel-et-Tur, the Arabic 
name for the Mount of Olives, is one which photo* 

H 



114 BETHANY. 

graphB the site and the environs of Jerusalem in the 
mind, and deepens all our sympathies with the abject, 
outcast Jews — 

" The tribes of the wandering foot and weary breast"— 

even though they and their country appear more 
vividly than ever to be monuments to Jehovah's jus- 
tice or dread remembrancers of his unswerving truth. 



EXCURSION 11. 

BETHANT. 

To reach this sequestered place, we leave Jerusalem 
perhaps by the Jaffa Gate, and descend along the path, 
BOW somewl^^t familiar, to the brook Kedron. The 
ascent of the Mount of Olives then begins. It is per- 
haps only a pathway worn in the rock by the footsteps 
of many generations — or at some places cut into rude 
stairs to facilitate the ascent. From time to time the 
visitor will pause amid the sparse olive and fig trees of 
the mountain-side, to gaze on the scene of wonders before 
him — the past and the present vying with each other in 
suggestiveness and interest. The desolations of ages are 
there, the dire effects produced by man's oppreission, 
rendered more manifest by contrast with the beauty of 
the scene when many a spot was like a weU-watered 
garden — leafy, rich, fragrant, and productive. 
• And when the visitor in quest of Bethany reaches 
the eastward slope, a ssene scarcely less touching of its 



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L-^y 



r^nnr-^ 



£^,^r:i''/7e.. 



BKTHAinr. 116 

kind than the sight of Jerusalem, opens on his view. 
Thmn is the road to Jericho, through a sterile country — 
the scene of the parable which tells of the wounded 
man who fell among thieves, of the priest, the Levite, 
and the good Samaritan — ^with all the incidents of a 
route dangerous eighteen centuries ago, and scarce less 
dangerous now. That visitor can here form an accu- 
rate opinion of the extent of this Land of the Book— 
and as he ranges over the narrow strip, much of which 
is now before him, he grows more and mote amazed 
at the infinite associations crowded into that .qtaoe — 
the wondrous worker* whieh- it has witnessed, «nd its 
consequent influence on the destinies of men f(ff all time, 
and all eternity. 

But having reached the crest of the Mount, .the 1ar»- 
veller will continue to follow the footpath which leads 
him eastward, for in that direction he must find the 
village of Bethany. He has now loit sight of Jerusalem, 
for the crest intervenes ; a few patches of com are seen 
on the slope, aad the desert solitudes spread out far 
away in the distance. But the viUage k just at hand, 
embosomed in olive-groves, and, for this land, a pleasant 
place. The white tops of the Arab houses gleam through 
the green, and, at some distance at least, the whole 
seems beautiful— it is such a spot as Bethany ought 
to be. The orchards have the fig, the olive, the vine, 
the almond, and the pomegranate; and altogether a 
home-feeling of love is perhaps the first result pro- 
duced by the sight of Bethany, in those who know 
what multitudes do not — ^the meaning and the blessed- 
ness of Home, 



116 BBTHANT. 

But having reached the village, the visitor begins to 
be chafed and vexed by the impudent assiduities of the 
wonder-keeper of the place. He is led to a tomb, and 
told that it is that of Lazarus ; or to ruins, and assured 
that there stood his house. The Arab name of the 
village is El-Aziriyeh, from El-Azir, the Arabic form of 
Lazarus, and that is as it should be ; but after all, the 
glory has departed, and the monastery, which was 
early erected here along with the other ecclesiasti- 
cal buildings reared at different times, rather desecrate 
than hallow the place. The village contains about 
twenty houses, and in the walls of some of them 
stones are seen which obviously once occupied a more 
honoured position ; but away from these things, and all 
the vulgar glare, or the stolid insensibility of the mon^ 
and Arabs to everything but superstition or money, the 
visitor seeks some quiet spot where he may recall and 
luxuriate amid the memories of the place. The heart 
here does the work of the whole man ; the mind is over- 
informed if it be devout, and the dreary aspect of the 
distant desert harmonizes well with the thought of de- 
parted glories. 

But there is a kind of penance to which the visitor 
must submit, unless he be prepared to wage war 
with all around him. He must be led to the alleged 
abode of Simon the leper, of Martha and Mary, and 
to the tomb of Lazarus. The latter is a deep vault, 
which might have imposture written on its front, — ^a 
cellar, in truth, hollowed in the limes^-one rock. The 
descent is by four or five and twenty steps, but there 
is a feeling of discomfort connected with the mere 



BETHANY. 117 

registering of such impudent deceptions, and one gladly 
escapes from them all to recur to the moral attractions 
which cluster round the place. 

— Here He who had nowhere to lay his head some- 
times found a resting-place after a day of toil. 

— Here He, whom all his followers forsook in his 
hour of utmost need, found at times congenial and 
sympathizing friends. 

— Here Jesus wept, " the man of sorrows," in profound- 
est harmony with the children of tears. But here also he 
triumphed over death, and anticipated the resurrection. 

Here, accordingly, the believer's heart finds a spot 
to which he clings as to his home. It is not the attempts 
^^ch have repeatedly been made by royalty to dignify 
the place by nunneries and convents ; nor is it the 
costly churches which have been built at Bethany, to 
be in due time converted by the Arabs into stalls for 
their horses, or pens for their cattle, as at many other 
places in Palestine ;— it is not even the vicinity of Jeru- 
salem that the traveller thinks of here. In the distance 
he sees the hills of Moab and the dreary region around 
the Eed Sea. Somewhere in this neighbourhood stood 
Bethphage, long sought for, and yet till lately sought 
in vain. But it is none of these things, nor all of 
them together, that can attract the visitor at Bethany. 
It is the fact that there the Savioui^ found his nearest 
approach to a home; there the rejected and despised 
found a welcome from loving hearts; and there all 
that he received was repaid (as ever) a thousand-fold, 
by the raising of Lazarus and the triumph over death. 
Prom that spot, moreover. He reascended to glory. 



118 BETHPHAGE. 

'' He led them out as far as to Bethany; and he lifted 
up his hands, and blessed them. And it came to pass, 
while he blessed them, he was parted from them, and 
carried up into heaven. And they worshipped him, and 
returned to Jerusalem with great joy" (Luke xxiv. 
50-52). To these things nothing need be added. 
Nothing is known of Calvary or its site ; but it alone 
could surpass the attractiveness of Bethany. 

And wherever we look, when in its vicinity, the eye 
comes home from "the wilderness of hills" — ^black, 
volcanic, and leafless — to rest upon this quiet, secluded 
spot. Even poetry halts— it seems to be prose, when 
it tries to describe the beauties of Bethany : — : 

**It seems a hntnble vUlage : few Its homes, 
And few and poor its dwellers ; cottage roofi, 
Except one single turret, are they all! 
Tet, save the neighbouiing city, It were hard, 
If Palestine were searched, to find a spot 
On which the Christian traveller should muse 
With fonder interest than Bethany.** 

— Here, as in the believer's heart, the Saviour is ever 
the great central object The shores of the Dead Sea, 
the dreary region which now environs poor Jericho, 
and the desert on the south, all tell of decay and death ; 
but this little hamlet— El- Aziriyeh, Bethany— pro- 
claims to man, through all his generations, that Christ 
is the resurrection and the life. 



BETHFHAGE. 

This village has long been sought for in the vicinity 
of Bethany, but many sought in vain. Its position 



BBTHPHAGE. 119 

became another arena for debate, and contending 
theories at once marred the associations and deepened 
the uncertainties of the place. There is a village, 
apparently deserted, named Abu-dis, at the distance of 
about a mile to the east of Bethany, and that has 
been deemed Bethphage by some. But more recent 
researches appear to assign its place between Bethany 
and the city, — ^that is, to the west, and not the east 
But wherever Bethany, " the house of dates," and Beth- 
phage, " the house of figs," may be ultimately placed 
in regard to each other, we must never forget that the 
whole region is charged with associations with our 
Lord, like a summer's evening with the blended odours 
of many flowers. The fig and the olive are still there. 
The palm-tree and others have disappeared ; but He, 
whose name is like ointment poured forth, becomes 
more and more a reality as these scenes are frequented. 
Hear him sending his disciples for the colt ! Trace him 
along his journey down the slopes, with palm-branches 
for his canopy, hosannas for his music, and fickle 
crowds for his attendants. Then consider the eventful 
hours of agony, the last of his life of woe, and every 
step is a solemnity, every walk a procession to the 
better country. There may be sights which rudely jar 
with such thoughts. The poor, blinded devotee, who 
worships he knows not what ; the stolid monk, with a 
spirit entombed in a materialism which he substitutes 
for worship ; the nakedness of the land, its scarred and 
blighted aspect, all tend to depress. But, mrmm eorda! 
there is a rest on high, and a heaven where there is 
neither disaster nor blight 1 



120 THE CONVENT OF SAINT SABA. 

EXCDESM IIL 

THE COKYEirT OF SAINT SABA. 

The route to this retreat, the La Trappe of Palestine, 
leads through some scenes nearly as wild and as rugged 
as the place itself. 

Mar Saba was founded in the fourth century, by the 
saint whose name it bears. Superstition was then 
rushing into the Church like the sea into a vessel that 
has sprung a leak. Asceticism had become a passion ; 
and when men vainly dreamed that by abandoning the 
world, and by fleeing to a desert or a cell, they could 
escape from sin, or win a heaven, the easy and self-flat- 
tering substitute for holiness was greedily embraced. 
They forgot that ere they could escape from sin they 
must abandon self. While carrying ^Aa< with them, they 
only changed one form of guilt for another. 

Saint Saba, of whom many fabulous things are 
told, became a leader among these devotees. It is said 
that he led a vast number of anchorites, of a kindred 
spirit with himself, into the rugged gorge where the 
convent now stands, and has stood in various forms 
for fourteen hundred years and more. That gorge is 
formed by the brook Kedron, as it passes eastward to 
the Dead Sea. The adjacent rocks are honey-combed 
with caves, as in many parts of Palestine, and in these, 
as well as in the convent, the devotees were wont to 
lodge. As the institution is rich, it has often been 
pillaged during the revolutions which have swept over 



THE CONVENT OF SAINT SABA. 121 

Palestine, and not seldom have its inmates been mas- 
sacred by the wild hordes who roam over the adjoining 
desert. Piles of martyrs* skulls, 14,000 they say, are 
shown there, to attest the truth of such havoc ; and, 
even to this day, every precaution is needed to keep 
the convent safe from the cupidity and intrusion of the 
lawless Bedawin. 

But this is anticipating. The Convent of St. Saba 
is about three hours' journey, or ten miles distant from 
Jerusalem. To escape from the peril of plunder by the 
way at the hands of the Arabs, it is requisite to travel 
in companies, or with a hired escort. After leaving 
the city by the Jaflfa Gate, the .traveller descends, at the 
Fountain of En-Eogel, into the vaUey of the Kedron, 
where the pathway for some distance lies. But he 
must soon prepare to face the steep ascent which 
bounds the vaUey, and ascend to a higher level—a work 
of toil, and some danger, if not to life, at least to limb, 
on account of the ruggedness of the patL All evidence 
of the vicinity of a capital speedily disappears. Mount 
Zion is visible from the valley below for a considerable 
space, and that reminds the visitor where he is; but 
the gloomy desolation, and the wild, unpeopled region 
which is traversed, tell more of volcanic rendings or the 
devastations of mountain torrents, than of a land once 
flowing with milk and honey. Crag answers to crag 
in wild echoes, and were the knolls or ravines covered 
with birch and copse, the Trosachs would be repro- 
duced in Palestine. As it is, we have only precipitous 
rocks— a wilderness, at some spots without a tree or 
even a leaf. In brief, the traveller is here surrounded 



122 THE CONVENT OF SAINT SABA. 

with regions so wild that they suggest what has been 
said of the mountains of the moon— they are treeless, 
leafless, herbless. 

Travelling that dreary region for nearly the whole 
of his journey, the visitor to Mar Saba finds himself at 
last in a scene so startling as to be appalling to some. 
It is like travelling among scoriae, the outpourings of 
Vesuvius or Etna. The abyss in which the convent is 
built is yet more wild, and, if possible, more leafless than 
the surrounding desert, while the only symptom of 
life that the traveller sees is the tents of some roaming 
tribes who frequent the region, and whose poverty and 
squalor at once banish from the mind all the romance 
that gathers round the life of these wild sons of the 
desert. There is one— there are two, twenty, fifty. 
They seem to vie with each other in their misery and 
gaunt wretchedness— their wives their drudges, and 
their children reared as if they were soulless. One of 
the most sickening sights in the Holy Land is the 
treatment Which abject woman generally receives from 
man. 

The convent is the abode of a sullen silence which at 
first rather depresses the visitor. His feelings are not 
much relieved when he reaches the watch-tower of the 
convent, and such environments or defences as are 
needed in such a place for the security of the inmates. 
Cells cut out of the rock, terraces, and towers, a 
mighty maze, and all without a plan, here meet the 
eye, and may well suggest the thought — Oh, how much 
man will do, or forsake, or endure to work out a right- 
eousness for himself! How few recluses have learned, 



THE CONVENT OF SAINT SABA. 123 

as the Scriptures teach, that if any. man will not work, 
neither shall he eat! How much would have been 
saved to the world had men understood that it is not 
they— 

"Wlio Idlj' dwell 
In cloister (?rey, or lierniir cell, 
In prayer and vit;!! niglit and day 
WeaiinK all their ihue away, 
Lord uf heaven, that serve thee well.** 

It would not be easy to convey an idea of this conven- 
tual pile by ink and types. Precipices four hundred 
feet high must be visited. The high walls for defence, 
the winding corridors of the convent, its massive church 
and chapels, its apartments for pilgrims, its tomba 
of the saints, its strict rules (forbidding, among other 
things, the admission of females within the walls), the 
beetling cliffs perforated by what now appears to be 
inaccessible caves, but once all inhabited, constitute a 
spectacle rarely matched even in the wildest abodes ol 
the wildest devotees. True, even the wilderness does 
not in any measure imply safety. Witness these walla 
of great thickness, and at some points fifty feet high, 
as well as all the muniments required by the proximity 
of the desert Even that perilous neighbourhood, how- 
ever, cannot give life to the dull existence of monkery; 
and at Mar Saba all is monotony and tameness, except 
the grand ruggedness of the dell called ** the Valley of 
Fire," and the fortress-convent which adorns it. The 
thirty or forty monks who harbour in the place are so 
many subtracted from the productive labourers of the 
world ; and that is nearly all their history. Pity that 
the wilderness of Judah should be rendered more 



124 THE CONTENT OP SAINT SABA. 

sterile still by the incubus of forty useless monks. 
From some points in the yicinity, Mount Hermon is 
visible. 

" Certainly," a visitor to this place has said, — " cer- 
tainly if there be a spot where the wildest dreams of 
imagination appear realized, it is withit this convent, 
overhung and surrounded by horrid precipices, full 
of arched vaults and caverns, adorned with lamps and 
pictures 'of saints and martyrs, and all the paraphernalia 
of monkish inventions." But to what purpose all these 
paraphernalia] Was Christ wrong when he said, "It 
is finished]" Did he leave his work so imperfect that 
monkery must V complete iti Were his suflferings not 
enough 1 Must those of man* hiinsielf be added ? Is it 
not true that "the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth us 
from all sini" These questions, rightly pondered and 
scripturally answered, would sweep earth clean of all 
such systems as the Convent of Mar Saba helps to up- 
hold. Of themselves such devotees might ask, like 
Samson, blind, and grinding in the mill at Gaza, "Am 
I not sung and proverbed for a fool in every street?" 

The traveller should not leave the edifice without 
visiting the library. If he is not edified or instructed 
by what is there, he may at least gather lessons from 
what finds no place in these recesses. Were God's 
Book of Truth — ^so peculiarly the book of this land — 
but freely open, the whole of this scene would melt 
away like the mirage of the desert, or the snows of 
winter when the suns of summer shine. 



THE NEW YORK 

PUBLIC UB^^ny 






iDA'ii'ONi$ I 



THE PLAINS OF JEEICHO. 125 

EXCURSION IV. 

THi! PLAINS OF JEBICHO. 

Jebicho and its vicinity were once a proverb for 
fertility. " The City of Palms," had few rivals in beauty 
or in riches. And though a difficulty may now be found 
in deciding precisely where it stood, there can be no 
doubt that it was once like a well-watered garden. The 
eulogies which its climate and its luxuriance have drawn 
forth from Josephus and others, might prepare us to 
expect a scene of Oriental richness; but the contrast of 
all these descriptions is what we are now to see. 

In proceeding from Jerusalem to Jericho, the traveller 
in Palestine will probably once more select as his route 
the path which leads along the slopes of Olivet, by 
Bethany, and down into a district where some parts 
may seem to be blasted for ever, so dismal is the scene. 
Stem and wild the country appears to the eye ; and, as 
already noticed, it was in this direction that robberies 
were rife of old, nor are they even yet a thing un- 
known. How could they be so, in a land where bri- 
gandage is the business of thousands? 

Proceeding in detail, however, after leaving Bethany, 
the first object of interest is "The Apostles' "Well," at 
about two hours, or from five to six miles from Jeru- 
salem. It is supposed that at this fountain the apostles 
(and no doubt multitudes besides) halted to refresh 
themselves on their journey eastward, orwhen returning 
to the capital In some other countries such a foun- 



126 THE PLAINS OF JEBICHO. 

tain would not be mucli noticed, and such a gratuitous 
tradition would be discarded. But here, where all is 
bleak and bare, both scorched and scorching,- the pres- 
ence of a spring is a blessing beyond what can easily be 
computed; and we may, without hesitation, believe that 
this existed in apostolic times. Though the route which 
weare now travelling be wild and nigged,, there are sights, 
fabulous or otherwise, which break in upon the dreary 
monotony. On the left, '*the exceeding high mountain** 
of the Saviour's temptation is visible; that is, if traditicm 
may be credited. It is known that He was baptized in 
the Jordan, just before he entered the wilderness to be 
tempted ; and this is the scene selected by the monks. 
It is wild and rocky — exactly such a place as the power 
to *' command the stones to be made bread" would be an 
enviable possession. In some such scene, at least, the 
Saviour passed through another stage of his exceeding 
great struggle, in working out the salvation of his 
people; and the caves for devotees, visible at many 
points fer up among the rocks, attest how surely the 
monks believed that this was the place. 

From the same rugged path along which the travel- 
ler here proceeds, he can, at some points, trace the Ghor, 
or the valley of the Jordan, conspicuous as it is amid 
the general blight, for the line of green which it forms 
along these dreary plains. Beyond it, and away in the 
distance, are seen the hills of Moab and Ammon, 
forming the constant sky-line in this direction, and never 
losing their interest, bleak and bare though they be, 
because of their connection with the house of Israel 
Nor are other associations altogether absent. The inter- 



THE PLAINS OF JERICHO. 127 

secting wadies among those mountains were once the 
abode of a crowded, if not a busy population, and have 
been sung by him who could make even Arabic gutturals 
melodious. Milton spoke of— 

" Rabba and her water/ plain, 
In Argob and in Basan, to the sti-eain 

Of utmost Ainon, 

From Aroer to Nebo, and the wild 
Of southmost Abarlm: in Hesebon 
And lloronaim, Seon*s realm, beyond 
The flowery dale of Sibma, clad with Tines; 
And Eleale to the Asphaltic pool.** 

But these scenes are distant Kear at hand we enter the 
dreary Plains of Jericho ; and that may be done by a pass 
of singular ruggedness, even for this rugged land. As 
we are now approaching the scene of the first achiev- 
ments of the Hebrews after they had entered the Holy 
Land, the memories of their deeds come floating up 
from the past. The ruins and remains of aqueducts which 
are found at some places, the probable site of Gilgal, 
the certain site of Jericho and Ai, at length, perhaps, 
identified, at no great distance among the' hills, all re- 
mind us of the early history of the people to whom God 
was a very present help. These dells have echoed to 
'the sounds of the assailants when Jericho felL Some 
of them formed the scene of the ambush by which Ai 
was taken, and the spot where Achan met his doom in 
the valley of Achor cannot be far away. Some relics 
of a former fertility may still be traced, and wherever 
there is water, there is a vegetation which needs only 
attention to become luxuriant. ITie accounts of this 
neighbourhood given by Josephus may, in some degree, 
be the dictates of Jewish partiality. The pleasant gar- 



128 THE PLAINS OP JEBICHO. 

den&— the palms, whose fruit when pressed yielded a 
honey scarcely inferior to that of the bee — ^the balsam- 
tree, "the most precious of all fruits there" — ^the cypress, 
and the myrobalanum, were all found in abundance, 
according to the Jewish historian ; and all these he as- 
cribes to the balmy air and the abundant waters. But 
the more glowing his accounts of the past, the deeper 
and the sadder the contrast between his encomiums 
and the present dreary condition of the Plains of Jericho. 
"A stunted and a languishing date-tree" is mentioned 
as the only memorial of the City of Palms. Yet the 
fig-tree is found there, and the traveller will studj 
with care the Asher or Osher plant, a tree which 
the most judicious and observant explorers now hold 
to be that which produces the " apples of Sodom." 
The fruit haa a yellowish colour, and resembles an appla 
or an orange in size. Its interior is filled, at certain 
stages of its ripening, with a kind of dust which " ex* 
plodes when pressed or struck, like a bladder or puff- 
ball, and is then too firagile to be carried far." It grows 
also in the immediate neighbourhood of the Dead Sea, 
and hence, perhaps, the popular name of the Asher. 
Disputes and discussions prevail as to which plant, 
among several claimants, has the best title to be held as 
producing the apples of Sodom. It appears, however, 
to be settled as definitely as it is ever likely to be, 
that the Asher is the tree. 

In the same plains is found theNabk, a species of thorn 
which is very common in Palestine. It is believed to be 
the tree of which the crown of thorns was made, and its 
long, pliant branches give verisimilitude tq the opinion. 



THE PULUrS OF JERICHO. 129 

That these plains, if properly cultivated, would be as 
productive as of old, is apparent from the fact already 
mentioned, that wherever there is water there is luxuri- 
ance. The Fountain of Elisha, for example, is here — 
undoubtedly that which he rendered wholesome by 
casting salt into it, as recorded in Scripture (2 Kings ii. 
19-22). The modem name of the spring is Ain-es-Sul- 
tan ; and wherever it flows, fertility and verdure accom- 
pany its course. The word of promise is literally ful- 
filled— '' There shall not be from thence any more 
death or barren land;" and the overshadowing fig- 
tree, with the rich vegetation which borders the stream 
as it runs to waste across a portion of the plains, might 
supply a hint to the men of Jericho how to fertilize or 
adorn their desolate valley. 

If the visitor be adventurous, this is not an unsuit- 
able spot from which to climb the a^jac^nt mountain, 
by superstition called the Quarantam*a, the reputed 
scene of the Saviour^s temptation (Matt iv.), as for- 
merly mentioned. The caves where hermits dwelt of 
old, and where Arab brigands have also found an asylum, 
are visible from the plains ; but most probably the 
stony wildness of the scene may have more attractions 
for Western minds than the hoary untruths of the 
monks. Along these plains, if anywhere in Palestine, 
we are brought into contact with scenes and places 
which are greatly more than classical The hiding of the 
spies at Jericho, and the fruitless search for them by the 
men of that city, — ^their escape by the wall, — ^the cross- 
ing of the Jordan over against the place by the multitu- 
dinous host,— the memorial-stones atGilgal, — ^thetaldng 
I 



130 THE PLAINS Ot JESIOBO. 

of Jericho in a.BuraoulouB manner, ita utter desolation, 
and the curse pronounced on him who should rebuild 
it,— down through all that followed in the Old Testament 
times, may be traced in thia neighbourhood, with the 
Bible for a guide-book, and caution for its interpreter 
as to the exact localities. Or, if the way&rer here pre- 
fer the times which the New Testament embraces, hQ 
may learn more profoundly than ever the goodness of 
Him who here gave sight to the blind, when othera 
would have condemned them to silenca He may read, 
of the salyation which came to the house of Zacdieua 
in the person of the Saviour ; and though the legend as 
to the Tower of Zaccheus, now pointed out to the tra- 
veller at Jericho, muBt be instantly discarded, scene 
after scene will rise up to deepen the impressions of 
trutL For a time he may be saddened by the devasta- 
tion or the solitude which surrounda him, but he may 
also become a better man — one more detached from 
earth and more allied to heaven. 

Travellers often notice the 009trast between the plains 
and the mountain9 of Palestine. The former, it is said, 
are nearly all retained by the Government in its own 
hands ; the latter are held in fee simple, or nearly so, 
by their occupants and cultivators* The plains, accord- 
ingly, are wretchedly tilled, if tilled at all, by serfs who 
are often oppressed and pillaged ; while the mountain 
sides— held by a somewhat superior class, more thrifty, 
and active, and intelligent— yield better returns, and do 
not so completely disgrace the Land of Promise. Alto- 
gether, the Plains of Jericho are a solemnizing scene. 
The associations connected with, them rapk among the 



TBIt PL4JN9 OW JIWCHQ. 131 

most j^TQfound even in the Bibla It m not the ruina. 
of oomyentci — th^se are tnvial thiQgg; npr of aqgi^ 
inilb and ai^^ucts, though these tell of modem nc^ect 
aiid. decay : it ia the wonde)9B wiiieh God has wronght 
that awe U8here,andthat make Jericho appear veiy nea]^ 
to etexnit y and its Qod-«-Siin who cho9e it as the arena 
of many of his marvels when eatahliahing this fact upon 
earth : ** Thsrs is ▲ Qop." The man who tar«ffiil>l«» 
a|. His word may here f^ and. quake; for a region 
which once vied witik the tropics in fertility, and vies 
with them still in its dimate, is now desolate and bareu 
Why thia Zahara now, oompared with the fecundity of 
eighteen osntmies ago,, or even of more recent times, 
when the Satacees weie asoendent here? Why do 
these plaina appear to have been sown with salt^ and. 
given ovec to a.steriliiy whieh even the Jordan seems 
unable to redeem 1 It all proclaims that Qod is true,-- 
true to hia threats as well as to his promises; and they 
alone are safe who set to their seal to that truth. 

But from the Plains let u& proce^ in quest of the. 
City of Jericho. 

Were it not memorable in the pa8t» there is little in 
the presMit but wretchedness to attract a. moment's re- 
gard. Biha, or Ikr-riha, the modem Jericho, is described 
by all travellers as a collection of mis^able huts^. 
covered with stalks of plants and thorn bushes, and 
defended from immediate attack by the same materials. 
The population is under 200 souls. Close to the modern 
village there are mounds of ruins covering a consider- 
able portion of the plain, and were these car^ully ex- 
plored, some light might be thrown on the history of 



132 THE PLAINS OF JEBIOHO. 

Jeridio. Some suppose, however, that these have no 
connection with the ancient town, though the close 
proximity of the Fountain of Elisha, already mentioned, 
leaves no doubt that we are standing near the first 
possession of Israel in the Promised Land. Josephus 
places the Jericho of his day near the mountains to the 
west Others suppose that mounds and remains near 
the fountain, and considerably removed from the hills, 
may represent the ancient city. Others stiU find it 
among the mounds just beside the modem Eiha ; while 
another class, differing from all these, place Jericho 
near the mouth of the Wady Kelt,— believed by some, 
but denied by others, to be the "brook Oherith" of 
Elijah. Amid these conflicting opinions, the visitor 
may not be disposed, without excavating, very peremp- 
torily to decide. He may rather rest in the conclusion, 
that as ancient Jericho was large, — as Cleopatra, An- 
tony, and Herod, as well as the Saracens and Turks, 
strove, in their respective ages, to revive its industry,— 
these scattered mounds, as nameless as profuse, may be 
regarded as representing Jericho— the Jericho of dif- 
ferent dates and generations. 

The traditionists, Greek and Latin, are beset by no 
difficulties. They believe all, except what would confer 
some peculiar honour on a rival sect. The visitor to 
Jericho will accordingly be led to a tower which has 
for centuries been shown as the residence of Zaccheus 
the publican. Dismissing the legend, and ascending 
the fabric, he will find it a Saracenic structure about 
thirty feet square and about forty high, commanding a 
prospect up and down the Jordan at its broadest part, 



THE PLAINS OP JEKICHO. 138 

and away to the mountains of Moab and the Dead Sea. 
In one direction the eye wanders away to Mar Saba 
and its gloomy gulf. A little nearer the south is the 
Well of Nebi Mousa,— the pretended tomb of Moses. 
In the foreground fragments of ancient pillars may 
be seen, and some thickets of the IN'abk, where the 
nightingale is heard, and echoes at least of former 
sweetness greet the ear. But, as a whole, ** the divine 
region" is dreary and desolate now. " The City of 
Palm-trees" has melted away into a sorry hamlet ; and 
the most lynx-eyed traveller searches for Jericho, but 
hitherto to a great extent in vain. The sugar-canes,^ 
the palms, the opobalsam, the henna, — all, all have 
disappeared ; and these miserable hovels, these haggard 
Arabs, these shameless women, and these scattered 
mounds, form all that can be found to represent the 
city where Cleopatra once revelled ; where Herod once 
reigned, butchered, and died; and where the Son of God, 
on his mission of mercy to the sons of men, dififiised the 
blessings which he brought from heaven. Most strange 
it is that there is reason to fear that, in that wretched 
village, the nameless abominations which drew down 
fire from heaven upon Sodom and Gomorrah are prac- 
tised still,— that is, not far from the shore of the waters 
which engulfed the guilty cities. Can it be true that 
certain sins, like certain weeds, are indigenous to cer- 
tain regions ? or that, once planted, they cannot be ex- 
tirpated ? 

* " There were, in fact, sugar plantations here long before America was 
discovered; and it is quite possible that this plant was taken A-om this 
very spot [Jericho] to Tripoli, and thence to Spain, by the crusadersi 
from whence it was carried to the West Indies."— 2%e Lcmd and (he Soot 



134 THE PLAINS OP JERICHO. 

It has been mentioned that " the brdok Cherith** 
is Bupposed by some to be represented by the modem 
Kelt near Jericho. It may well be so, for it is a wild 
and rugged dell, of which a traveller says : ** The gorge 
of the brook Cherith is very magnificent. T have seen 
none in Alpine scenery to eqoal it for wild and desolate 
beauty." We do not, however, push the opinion too 
far ; but if this he the brook, we are here brought into 
contact, by association at least, with one of the most 
remarkable personages of history,— a man who, above 
most, lived, moved, and had his being in God. We 
hear the command, " Get thee hence .... and hide 
thyself by the brook Cheril^i, that is before Jordan ;" 
and we read the assurance that the ravens were to feed 
Eiyah there. We see him in Ms retreat, solitary but 
not deserted, cast down but not in despair; for he is a 
man whose life is more than charmed,-— his God is hid 
sun and shield. Let the travelleri amid the wild precis 
pices which skirt the brook— assuming the place to be 
identified — open at that chapter of the heavenward 
guide which shows Elyah entering on the scene with- 
out any announcement, mature in power and in office, 
like another Melchizedek, "without falser, without 
mother, and without descent" (1 Kings xvil) Let him 
follow all the mazes of the stream, or trace all the re- 
cesses on its margin. There Elijah lived; there he 
endured ; there he was trained for higher things and 
higher. Thither his daily food was sent to him, not 
through the pores of the earth, but in the talons of a 
bird. There the Omnipotent employed another of his 
creatures to promote his purposes. There &ith, fed by 



THB PLAINS OF ^TSBIGHO. 135 

the hand of Ood, was strengthened ; and there that 
lowly man was fitted for his straggle with Ahab and 
Jezebel, — ^with the priests of Baal on Carmel, and aH 
their dark idolatries,— and for that terrible holocaust 
which he offered on the margin of the Kishon (1 Kings 
xviii). Not even the Jordan can surpass the Kelt, if it 
be the Gherith, in solemn associations ; nowhere is it 
made more plain that the Lord is a just God, &nd a 
holy, — a jealous God, who wiU not give his glory to 
another. 

It were difficult to say whether a visit to Jericho be 
more saddening or instractive ; and some of the inci- 
dents in its history, though not scriptural, render it one 
of the most bloody of ail the shambles where passion 
has rioted in rain. Herod the Great had done much to 
adora the place, but his atrocities made him hated; and 
he knew it When his end drew near, therefore, aware 
that it might cause joy to his subjects, he determined 
to disappoint them, and to turn their rejoicing into a 
waiL With that end in view, he summoned his nobles 
to the place ; he ordered them to be shut up in a hippo- 
drome which he had constracted, and to be all put to 
death the moment that he expired. His sister, Salome, 
did not obey the tyrant's order ; but in all history, 
perhaps, no incident is recorded which more terribly 
illustrates the power of the tyrant's ruling passion 
strong in death. The Plains of the Jordan wete then 
pouring into the lap of man, from their prolific bosom, a 
profiision which was more than Oriental (They formed 
a kind of garden of the Lord, and much that was good 
for food and pleasant to the eye was thera But amid 



136 THB PLAINS OF JEBICHO. 

that teeming profusion man neither heeded nor feared 
Him who gave it alL The hearts of all men, as well as 
of Herod the Bloody, are proof against such profusion, 
—they are proof against everything but grace ; and the 
Author of such luxuriant bounties was not merely 
neglected, he was disowned and defied. 

The monster rather than the man who planned 
this atrocity had been consistent in his blood-guiltiness 
all through life. Augustus said of Herod that it were 
better to be his pig than his son;* and the king did 
what he could to verify the witticism. The merest 
catalogue of his crimes is appalling ; and near the spot 
where this man, *' great*' at least in his guilt, passed 
away to his account, it cannot but impress us to recall 
in outline some particulars of Herod's life. He bribed 
Mark Antony to put Antigonus, king of the Jews, to 
death, to make room for Herod himself. Having thus 
waded to the throne through blood, he next pro- 
ceeded to butcher all the partisans of -Antigonus. He 
made Aristobulus high priest at the age of seventeen, 
and then, repenting of his appointment, caused him to 
be drowned in a batL !N'ext he had Hyrcanus, of the 
family of the Maccabees, put to death, at the age of 
eighty, lest he should assert a claim to the throne of 
Judea ; and then, lest his wife, Mariamne, his favourite 
among the nine whom he married, should be espoused by 
any one after his death, he ordered her and her mother 
to be murdered if he died before them. He anticipated 
his own injunction, however, and destroyed Mariamne 

* ts, not i)tbs. 



THE FORDS OF THB JOBDAN. 137 

himself; and, after a brief period, murdered also her 
mother. Next, he caused his two sons, Aristobulus and 
Alexander, to be put to death ; and his next atrocity 
was the slaughter of the children at Bethlehem. Fur- 
ther, he ordered his son Antipater to be destroyed for 
an attempt to poison his &ther->but we need not pro- 
ceed. Such was the man who passed up to his account 
from the spot where these mounds, and fragments, and 
broken pillars tell of former grandeur. A curse seems 
hovering over the scene,--nay, it has descended with 
wasting force ; and need we wonder, when we recall the 
atrocities at which we have glanced ? One sin withered 
Eden and blighted a world ; what, then, but calamities 
could follow Herod's crimes ? 

TEE FOBDS OF THE JOBDAH— BATHHTO. 

It was natural that superstition— the true horse- 
leech, which is ever crying " Give ! give 1" — should seize 
upon events so important as those which happened in 
the neighbourhood of Jericho, on the Jordan. The 
Israelites crossed the river there, and it is probable that 
Jesus was baptized in that vicinity, though the spot 
can never be ascertained. But what is not known can 
be feigned ; and both the Greek and the Latin Churches 
make the alleged place of the Saviour^s baptism the 
scene of some of their wildest doings. Here, as usual, 
they are rivals as to the bathing-place ; but the super- 
stition is equal ; at each it is a gross lampoon on the 
simple truths of the word of God. 

In a region so sultry and Oriental as the Plains of 



138 THE POBDS OP THB JORDAK. 

the Jordan, ^ehere even the human frame, with all its 
adaptive facilities, often seems dried up, and converted 
into a heap of sinews rather than of muscles, the 
abounding river becomes a universal bath ; nearly aU 
travellers from the West seek refreshment in its waters, 
and their encomiums on the virtues of the stream are 
loud and varied. The richness of the vegetation on the 
margin,— increased, no doubt, to the eye by thesurround- 
ing sterility,— the peculiarity of the Ghor, and the deep 
seclusion to be there eigoyed, are all dwelt on with 
great delight ; and one Western has said that to his 
exhausted frame, a bath in the waters of the Jordan 
was like the bath of the Mohammedan paradise. 

But it is not to the solitary bath of a travel-soiled 
wayfarer that we now allude. We know that the 
Saviour was baptized by the Baptist somewhere in the 
Jordan. Crowds flocked to the great forerunner for 
the same purpose ; and a ceremony so grand was not 
to be lost sight of by the inventors of more modem 
miperstitions. At the place selected by the Greeks the 
river is specially beautiful. It is an oasis of the richest 
type, fringed with a vegetation rank and luxuriant 
like that of the tropics. The thickets are dense and 
-tangled ; for the mingling of tall reeds, of wild vines, 
and other clambering plants, renders the banks at some 
places a rich mass of vegetation. The bulbul is fre- 
quently heard among the foliage. The river is broad, 
and fbH, and rapid rather than otherwise, while some 
of the distant mountaiiis dominating over the scene 
render it one of the most Oriental and most refreshing 
to be found all along the banks of the Jordan. 



THE POUDS OF THE JOBDAN. 139 

On thB evening prior to the Grand Festival of the 
Bathing, the pilgrims, who have come from far and 
near, assemble on the t^lains of Jericho, generally not far 
fit>m the Fonntain of Elisha. All manner of languages 
may there be heard ; all manner of costumes may there 
be seen. The band often consists of thousands, including 
Greeks, Armenians, and various tribes of the Greek rite. 
Abyssinia, Egypt, Asia Minor, Turkey, Greece, Malta, 
Italy, France, Austria, Poland, Prussia, Hussia, even 
Britain and America, may all be seen represented in 
those motley groups. Cossacks from Russia, and Copts 
firom Egypt,— devotees, in short, from many lands, — 
are attlracted by a rampant superstition ; and their "wild 
bivouac on the eve of the coveted plunge is such as 
perhaps the whole world besides could not match. 

The viands of the different groups are described as 
peculiarly national The £igyptid:n sups on an onion 
and a doura cake ; the Syrian devours his curds ; the 
Armenian his dates, or pickled olives ; the Cossack pre- 
fers mutton ; and the European or American, showing 
symptoms of civilization, both uses a box for a table 
and a variety of viands to please his mote dainty appe- 
tite. When the night-fires are kindled, the effects 
upon these groups are picturesque beyond the power of 
words. Turbans, fez caps, scarlet robes, or shaggy 
capotes ; the hugebeards and bare limbs of the Orientals ; 
the gesticulation, the Vociferation, and excitement of 
neariy all, indicate that Superstition is here holding her 
highest carnival,— that man is here in his most fantas- 
tic, if not his most degraded Character. To the 
Christian travellei: snch a scene would be amusing, 



140 THE F0BD8 OF THE JOBDAN. 

could be forget that it is meant for religion;— it 
is all the religion that these pilgrims know. They 
are reputed followers of the Lamb of God. As men 
called Christians, they pretend to hold that religion of 
which the Bible is the visible fountain-head. To a man, 
they think they are on the way to a high religious cere- 
monial It is one of their favourite stages in the jour- 
ney to what they reckon gloiy, and how wretched is 
the deception we need not telL 

Very early on the morning of the high solemnity the 
torches are lighted on a signal given, and in a trice 
the whole multitude, to the number of thousands, are 
in motion towards the river. The Turkish governor 
of the district is there, attended by a band of music, 
and by peace-officers ; and some have likened the wild 
scene to the effect of enchantment, so sudden and so 
unanimous is the movement, or the rush towards the 
stream. Having reached the bathing-place, some 
plunge into the river, and disport like strong swimmers 
in the fulness of their joy ; others are more sedately 
sprinkled by attendant priests ; but all, except the emaci- 
ated and the dying, seem joyous or even jubilant, and 
leave the water to return to their tents at Jericho, like 
men who have reached a summit of earthly felicity, or 
accomplished a grand object of earthly ambition. Some 
relic of the spot is commonly carried away by each pil- 
grim ; sometimes the cloth destined to be the shroud or 
the winding-sheet of the devotee is dipped in the 
stream, and carried home as at once a trophy and a 
passport to safety; and though all do not give such 
pleasing accounts of these scenes as the author whom 



THB FOBDS OF THE JOBDAK. 141 

we at present follow, * there is not a little of boister- 
ous hilarity displayed in the tumult. 

Such sights will be pleasing or painful to the travel- 
ler, according to his own *' manner of spirit" Does he 
look upon them from the world's point of view 1 Then 
they are just another manifestation of frolic, or mirth- 
ful excitement But does he go deeper ? Does he look 
upon them in the light which the Bible sheds on them? 
Then such doings as those at the Fords of the Jordan 
deepen man's degradation by pampering his superstition. 
They foster the delusion which substitutes a ceremony for 
a Saviour — or baptism in the Jordan for the washing of 
regeneration and the renewing of the Holy Ghost. Men 
greedily seek these poor shams and make-believes, but 
turn away from the truth which would direct them 
Saviour-ward— and by how much is all this better than 
the idol car of Juggernaut, or the saving plunge in the 
Ganges ) If the Bible alone contains the religion of 
truth, where do we find its warrant for these scenes of 
riot ? If reason must preside over the conduct of a 
reasonable being, does it, can it teach that to plunge 
the body in a stream, without any divine warrant, can 



* Dr. Olin. Some describe the fighting even to bloodshed and death, 
the gross conduct of multitudes in the crowd, the necessity of the autlio- 
rities to interfere by stripes, to preserve the peace, and the moral and 
physical abominations of the spectacle, as altogether revolting. Dr. 
Thomson, in "The Land and the Book," says of his visit: "Two Christians 
and a Turk, who ventured too fur [into the stream] were drowned with- 
out the possibility of rescne This sad accident produced 

very little sensation among the pilgrims. In fiict, this pilgriming seems 

to obliterate every benevolent feeling from the heart As we 

came along, if «ny poor woman fell from her horse, and rolled down 
among the rocks, it called forth only loud laughter from the passing 
crowd.** 



142 THS FORDS OW T0^ HORDAS. 

accompliah good in thq soul ? While the traveller in 
these parts has truth after truth impressed more Ymdlj 
upon his mind, he also, learns to ding more tenadoualy 
to God's word, ai^d nothing 1)ut God's word, Bfi the 
source of his religion, Thi^ foU^ upon morq than a 
national scale, of supposing that bathing in a stream can, 
benefit the soul, ia surely a^ plain demonstration qf the, 
need of heavenly wisdom. 

Turning, hpwevei^ from these soenes of riotous siq)e]s 
stition to the quiet aspects of nature, when the rush and 
the tumult have subsided, the visitor, may find this Eq;)oti 
a fit scenet>frpm which to look both bacji^ard and for- 
ward. JBackward— for what has Qod wrought in thia. 
vicinity 1 !N^ot fEur hencei, it m^ be here, the Hebrew; 
host forded the river at thp .8eas.Qn when it wii4 in 
periodic .flood, ai^dsaw the arm of the Lord revealed 
as it had been at the Bed Sea. " It was time for God 
to work," else his name would have faded from the 
memories of men. But Gk>d did work. By signs and 
wonders he prodaimed that there ia a God-^a jiurt. 
God and a holy, that judges in the earth« Or; forward— 
the truth deposited with the Hebrews, by the words, 
" Hear, Israel, the Lord our God is one Lord," was 
much obscured and often forgotten by them, but, in 
spite of their errors, it has been handed down in it^ 
purity. The nations are slowly but gradually adopt- 
ing that truth; and the traveller learns to prize it more . 
than ever, when, with the Jordan at hand, Jerusa- 
lem not very distant, and a thousand solemn memories 
floating all around, he marks the tokens of the true 
God's presence, of his long-suffering mercy for a time. 



THE NEW YORK 



THB DZXD SEA. 143 

perhaps for rnanj geoerations— but his retributive jus- 
tice at last and for ever. 

The next Excursion, starting from £r-Riha, or the 
banks of the Jordan near it^ will further illustrate these 
conclusions. 



EICUBSIOir V^ 

TEE DEAD SUA. 

Of all the sections of Palestine, except perhaps Jerusa- 
lem itself, the neighbourhood of the Dead Sea is the sad- 
dest and the dreariesi From various points, and espe- 
cially from the sunimit of Olivet, its surface is partially 
visible ; but we must wander along its sullen margin, 
and there recall its peculiar history, before we can feel 
all that the Bahr JAt is fitted to teach. 

It is a mysterious, melancholy sea— a huge caldron 
of bitumen and brimstone, which neither rain nor 
moimtain streams, nor even the Jordan can sweeten. 
When Abraham and Lot looked towards it from the 
western heights, perhaps in the neighbourhood of 
Bethel, the region seemed as the garden of the Lord» 
but in a single generation the cup of its iniquity was full, 
and four or five cities were swept from their place,— 
Sodom, Gomorrah, Admah, and Zeboim, were over- 
whelmed in a catastrophe where fire and water, the 
skies above and the earth beneath, combined their ener- 
gies to work out the pleasure of the righteous One. 
The waters of this sea axe full 1300 feet below the level 



144 THE DKJlD SEA^ 

of the ocean. This abyss, which runs from north to 
south, is about seventy miles in length, and twelve or 
more in breadth, bounded on each side by ramparts of 
rock— the mountains of Moab on the east, and the crags 
about Engedi and other places on the western shore. 
Where these leaden waters now heave or slumber, a 
scene of inviting beauty once spread out before the 
eye; but sin tarnished it, and, like our earth, it must be 
purified by fire. Strange events preceded the destruc- 
tion. Wondrous prayers were offered. Wondrous 
visits from on high were paid, and unequivocal warn- 
ings were given. But men would not believe, or would 
not heed the warnings, and they perished. The region, 
lately so fair, is first scorched and then drowned, and 
there it lies, steeped for three or four thousand years 
in salt and sulphur, in bituminous abysses many 
fathoms deep, attesting the severity, as a thousand 
other places proclaim the goodness, of God. Deep 
down there are the remains of the multitudes whom no 
warning could reclaim. It is a grave to them, and a 
scene of death to much besides. Birds do fly over it, 
they even nestle on its desolate shores; but no fish lives 
there. Its indescribable bitterness destroys all vegetable 
life. Fishes floated down from the Jordan all perish 
in this sea, and the microscope can discover no trace 
even of animalculaa in it. It is literally the Dead 
Sea ; and as it welters, or sleeps in sullen silence, the 
view upon its waters is melancholy beyond most spota 
on the earth. 

The depression of this lake below the level of the 
Mediterranean has given rise to many speculations 



THB DEADSSA* 14$ 

among geologists and others. The Lake of Tiberias is 
more than 300 feet (some make it 600) below that level; 
and the Dead Sea, as we hare seen, is more than 1300. 
Now, whence this wonder? Has some great break- 
down taken place in past ages, so that what now forms 
the basin of the Dead Sea sank below its former level 
to the depth now mentioned ? That is the opinion of 
some, and the fact that a channel runs down the cen- 
tre of the sea much deeper than the rest of the *' watery 
plain," gives some colour to that theory. That chan- 
nel, it is supposed, formed the former bed of the river, 
which is lower than its banks, precisely as the existing 
Jordan bed is much lower than its banks at the present 
day. Were that supposition correct, then the Jordan 
must have flowed along the Arabah southward till it 
reached the sea, perhaps at the Elanitic Gulf. But 
there are difficulties in this theory not easily sur- 
mounted, though not, we think, proved to be insur- 
moimtable, and we must wait for more light or further 
discoveries on the subject. Meanwhile, the wonders of 
the scene are increased by the fact, that the Dead Sea 
has no outlet for its waters. Evaporation is its only 
means of discharge ; and the heat of that huge caldron, 
begirt as it is with rocks, which help to render the 
whole a very focus for the evaporating influence, is 
reckoned enough to explain the phenomenon. Those 
who have been scorched along its arid margin or on its 
beach of salt, have been fain to plunge into its waters, 
so buoyant as to make swimming difficult, to escape 
from the oppression. True, as they dipt into the 
wave the taste of it was bitter like wormwood and 

K 



146 THE PSAD SEA. 

stringent like alum, while iU effects upon the sldn where 
it happened to be ruffled was like an application of 
caustic; but still, it is something to plunge into the 
wayes, and float perhaps over the very spot where the 
pride of Sodom and Qomorrah lies entombed till the «ea 
shall give up its dead. 

Without cumbering this brief account with any 
minute details, let it be enough to give the impression 
of the whole : — ^'^ Life and soul are awanting. It never 
seems to smila No city nor Tillage is on its margin ; 
no tree fringes its sands— only a few reeds and olean- 
ders here and there ; no skiff skims its surface ; no 
fisher plies his trade; no Arab makes his dwelling 
hera All is desolation ; and were it not for the bright- 
ness of an Eastern sun lighting up the wave, its dreari- 
ness would be altogether intolerable. .... One feels 
that to live here perpetually within sight of aU this 
gloom, and with all these memories floating round, 
would be oppressive beyond endurance. For bright as 
is the sunshine and blue as is the sea, there is so much 
of dreariness and hopeless sterility, that you are glad to 
turn from it all to the fresh stream and wooded banks 
of Jordan." Even the bare cliffs of the mountains of 
Moab are a relief from this sulphureous and briny 
dreariness; and as the waters of the Bahr have ''no 
outlet but the ambient air," the pent-up feelings of the 
mind seek their outlet by rising upwards to the pure 
Source of all this justice, and all these solemn me- 
mentoes that, whether we believe it or not, there is a 
God that judgeth in the earth. 

Even amid these sad and dreary scenes man makes 



ARAB MUSIC. 147 

some spasmodic eflfbrts to be bappy, and some travellers 
have brought us interesting tidings of the music that 
may be heard at times on the shores of this sea. The 
roaming character and often the excited life of the 
brigand tribes adjacent, give rise to stirring adventures, 
threatening peril, which, however, is generally averted 
by presenting an aspect of calm boldness, such as turns 
most Orientals into cowards. Indeed, the peril not sel< 
dom becomes a topic for mirth when it is fairly con- 
fronted, and that mirth may end in music. 

But the accounts of all travellers agree in represent- 
ing the music of the Arabs as harsh and unpleasant 
Heard far away among their own wild recesses, it may 
be appropriate to such scenes, and for their own pur^ 
poses it may be exciting, like the cries of seamen when 
they work together ; but it appears sometimes to be 
scarcely more musical 7\> cheer them by the way, or 
relieve them amid toil, the Arabs in some districts at 
once dance and sing, as Miriam and her attendants 
did. A traveller, for example, records, that on a night 
journey, one of the Arabs who conducted him advanced 
a short space before the rest of his party and began a 
song, dancing or rather shuffling forward with a peculiar 
motion to the air of his own words. The rest of the 
company joined in the chorus, and kept time by clap- 
ping the hands and taking part in the dance. 

Kow, while this responsive mode of singing illustrates 
many portions of Scripture (for instance, Ps. cxxxvi.), 
it conveys with great distinctness an idea of the popu- 
lar Arabian music, which is powerful but not pleasing — 
the effect of strong vociferation on a certain key, rather 



148 AKAB mrSIO FBOX 

than of well modulated tones. Where the hand-mill is 
still in use, a Mnd of chant is common, at once to regu- 
late and mitigate the toil; but no representation that 
we have seen describes it as sweet, or possessing any of 
the attractions associated by most of the Western na- 
tions with the very name of music or of song. For 
example, a missionary in the East was taken prisoner, 
and for some time kept under restraint by certain Be- 
dawin near Fftlmyra. He had there an opportunity of 
hearing the music of the desert ; for the sheikh, whose 
captive he was, produced a kind of guitar having only 
one string, upon which he played with a bow, as an ac- 
companiment to his own rude singing. But the music 
of the Arabs, that missionary says, seems commonplace 
and monotonous to those who are accustomed to the 
soul-stirring strains of Western Europe. It is a slow 
and gloomy chant, not unlike some of the Irish wails 
deprived of their wild, peculiar sweetness. 

Further: from the East travellers have brought us 
"The NUe Boat Song," a " Jewish Marriage Chant," 
" Mosque Music," '' The Camel Chant of Arabs in the 
Desert," "Reed-pipe Music in the Desert," "Arab 
Marriage Music," and similar pieces ; but their range is 
exoeediagly limited, — ^indeed, they are monotony itself 
when placed side by side with the compositions of the 
West. One traveller says : " For three mortal hours, 
over, and over, and over, Da Capo, and over again," 
will Arabs in the desert chant a piece consisting of just 
fourteen notes. And another has given some grotesque 
specimens of the senseless tenor of such chants : " my 
eyes! my love! the suni the moon! my father! 



THE DEAD SEiu 149 

my mother 1 my sister ! the river I the pUgrim- 
age to Mecca! the procession of the sultan! the 
prophet ! the effendi ! Abbas Pasha ! Mohammed ! 
The hawagee [i.«., travellers] are with us ! We are go- 
ing up the Nile!" — Such are the incoherencies of an 
Arab chant ; and even though we concede that the 
sketch is a caricature rather than a picture, there is 
enough in the endless repetitions to indicate how poor 
the music must be. Tet at evening such songsters 
sometimes gather in groups, and with the accompani- 
ment of a rude tambourine and a pipe made of reed, 
with the clapping of hands and other ecstatic rejoic- 
ings, they prolong their festival as if the pleasure which 
it yielded were intense. After all, they are not utterly 
in the predicament of the man who has no music in 
hissouL 

Kor is the music of worship in the East either 
sweeter or richer than that of a less sacred kind. On 
the contrary, a competent judge has said that what he 
heard, even among the Jews, was the most outrageous 
concert of harsh, nasal sounds he had ever listened to. 
The same guttural, he adds, and the same amount of 
nasality are heard in the singing of every denomination 
in the East The Orientals are deaf to harmony ; they 
cannot comprehend it, and may be excited to rapture 
by what tortures the nerves of an Occidental. 

In Jerusalem a traveller* was present at a concert 
where half a dozen performers used purious instruments, 
whose music was interspersed with wild bursts of song 
which elicited the cordial applause of the hearers. 

* Dr. Thomson, The Land a»d the Boot 



160 ARAB MUSIC FROM 

They had a violin, two or three Mnds of flutes, and a 
tambourine, while one man, by himself apart, played 
upon a large harp, called a k&niin. Another instru- 
ment, the kamaiyeh, slightly resembling a violin, and a 
guitar, or *ood, are not uncommon; and the latter is 
often heard .at festive meetings in the open air. The 
most popular, however, of all the musical instruments 
of Syria are the derbekkeh^ a kind of drum ; the daff, or 
tambourine ; the metkairat, or kettle-drum ; the cymbal, 
castanets, and the clapping of hands. On all festive 
occasions such instruments are introduced ; and judging 
from the hours to which the festivities are prolonged, 
the delight must be intense. 

Perhaps the most distinct accounts given of the 
popular music of the Arabs are those which are con- 
veyed by the American Exploring Expedition. In sail- 
ing down the Jordan, and navigating the Dead Sea, the 
commander eigoyed many opportunities of listening to 
the music of the people ; and he tells of its style in a 
manner that is the reverse of flattering. A bard on 
one occasion visited the tents, and sang Arabic songs, 
accompanying his vocal music with the rdhabeh, or 
viol of one string. The melody, we are told, was as 
rude as the instrument which produced it— a low, long- 
drawn, mournful wail, like the cry of a jackal set to 
music. The man sang of love, it is said; yet had it 
been a dii^ge— the wail of the living over the dead— it 
could not have been more lugubrious. But it pro- 
duced a rapturous delight among the sons of the desert 
On another occasion the musical regale was repeated ; 
and of the nasal notes and twanging sounds of the per- 



THE DEAD SEA. 151 

former, it is said that the discordant croaking of the 
frog was miudc in comparison : an occasional scream or 
yell would have been absolute relief 

Nor is the music better in those districts where it 
is commonly accompanied with dancing. One of the 
party commences a low, monotonous chant, and the rest 
repeat his words with as monotonous a cadence. The 
dance consists mainly of bowing and bending, and 
swinging the body from side to side, all the party fol- 
lowing the movements of the chief performer, who 
carries a naked sword. These movements, with the 
peculiar gestures of some of the dancers, make the whole 
appear like some wild coronach disturbed by the 
gestures of a mountebank. This form of amusement 
sometimes gives place to the recitation of Arabic poetry, 
or the effusions of a rude improvisatore— an entertain- 
ment which is described as far more tolerable than the 
one-stringed rdhabeh, and less stupid than the dance 
abready mentioned. 

But there is an air sung by the tribes when about to 
meet either friends or foes, which differs much from all 
the rest of their music. It may be interpreted either 
as a song of welcome or a war-ciy of defiance, and is 
described as the only really musical sound which is to 
be heard among the Arabs, though it consists of only 
ten notes. It is uttered in a high, shriU voice, and 
with a modulation or peculiarity bearing some affinity 
to portions of the Tyrolese musia The distance at which 
the war-ciy can be heard is said to be almost incredible. 

To enable the traveller in the East to understand the 
music which he will hear in the Holy Land, or on its 



152 



ABAB MT7SI0 FBOH 



borders, the following piece, entitled "Arab Marriage 
Music from the Dead Sea," is submitted. B^;arding 
it Mr. Macgregor says, in his " Eastern Music :" — ^** Sit- 
ting by the Dead Sea you may listen to Arab music; 
but you must foiget the drawing-room, and imagine it 
a tent, and the Dead Sea in place of gardens or a ver- 
dant lawn ; and the treble keys of Erard must sound as 
the voices of Bedouin maidens. It was in the stillness 
of night that I heard these Arab girls approach me, 
clapping their hands above their heads, and asking a 
present for the bride." The piece is as follows : — 

ARAB KABBIA0E XUSIC, FBOM TEE DEAB SEA. 






m 



^m 



ES^ 



peeta o-nw 



W^t^^±±^^ ^ 



^ 



^^ 



f 



T 



i 



^^11 rrrf= Fp?^ 
* 



Far-in-es-er o- kin -or 






THE DEAD SEA. 



153 




ETH-Hj^^-^ ^ 



knminee 



too-ta-roo-« 



p^^^^^g 



S 



i 



5 



^ 



-5— r 



-r -# 



Upon the whole, it would seem that the music of the 
East h&s degenerated as far from what it was in ancient 
times as the country is deteriorated in other respects. 
All are aware of the skill of David as a harper, and of 
the effects which his harp music produced on the dark 
soul of SauL Then the singers whom the musical king 
selected for public worship, and the pains which he 
took to have them regularly trained, all betoken great 
progress in the musical art. Moreover, the musical 
instruments mentioned in Scripture are in some cases 
so complex or intricate as to imply no limited skill and 
power of execution. There was the harp which Jubal 
invented (Gen. iv. 21), and David perhaps improved 



164 EASTEBN MUBIO— 

(Amos yL 5). It was peculiarly an instrument of joy 
(1 Ohron. xvL 5 ; Isa. xxiiL 16), and was employed to 
augment the jubilee of vintage (Isa. zxiv. 8); while on 
the other hand« in token of their deep sorrow, the Jews 
at Babylon hung their harps on the wiUows and wept 
(Ps. cxzxviL 2). In some cases the harp had ten strings, 
though the number varied ; and altogether it appears to 
have been rather a national instrument, whether it was 
a harp proper, or only some instrument of a similar 
structure. 

There was also the psaltery, a stringed instrument 
often mentioned by David, and chiefly used in public 
worship (1 Ohron. zxv. 1-7). Another, and a different 
instrument is mentioned in Ps. viii., Ixzxi, Ixxxiv., and 
elsewhere. Daniel speaks of the sackbut, while in other 
places instruments are named supposed to have been 
lutes or guitars. It should be remarked, however, that 
very discordant opinions are entertained regarding 
these, and other instruments, by learned men ; and such 
are the doubts which such discussions have raised, that 
it will be difficult now ever to reach very definite con- 
victions on the subject. 

Wind instruments were also well known among the 
Hebrews of old ; for example, the horn (Dan. iii 5, 7, 
10, 15), the jubilee trumpet, and another referred to in 
Exod. xix. 13, and elsewhere. Compare Matt. vL 2. 
Pipes of various kinds were also employed. Flutes are 
spoken of, and all these meet in the organ ascribed, like 
the harp, to Jubal (Gten. iv. 21) ; though that organ is 
understood to have been very different from the com- 
plex instrument known in our day by the same name. 



ITS DSGAY. 155 

4nd, not to protract our references, the Jews had 
Various musical instruments of percussion. The tam- 
bourine which Miriam used (Exod. zv. 20), belongs to 
this class, as do also the cymbals repeatedly mentioned 
in Scripture. 

Now, all these instruments, and others which might 
be named, make it sufficiently obvious that the Jews 
must have been proficient in music to a considerable 
extent Their Psabns of Degrees, whatever be the expla- 
nation of the name, their hymns chanted on the way to 
the great festivalB of the nation, with various references 
or denunciations by the prophets, all indicate how 
much the art or even the science was cultivated. The 
voluptuary summoned the daughters of music to his 
help. The heart-stricken did the same. The devout 
deepened their devotions by psalms, and hymns, and 
spiritual songs. In short, there is much to betoken a 
progress in musical knowledge and skill far in advance 
of anything that is now common in the East 

And whence the present decadence ? With the Dead 
Sea before ua— once fertile and a well-peopled plain, 
but now a colossal caldron filled with water as bitter as 
wormwood, and as offensive, but far more useless— that 
Question admits of only one answer. The land is for 
tome reason blighted. The daughters of music have 
ceased, according to the threat. The hill sides, once 
terraced and luxuriant, now bleak, scarred, and blasted, 
proclaim the same sad truth ; and though the Arab 
music, which is sometimes heard on the shores of the 
Bahr LM, gives a kind of life to the scene, that is but a 
ilash amid dense gloom. The whole vicbuty is laden 



156 THE DEAD SEA. 

with some heavy blight. So trae is all this, that 
the Mohammedan Muezzin— '* Gkxl is great, Qod is the 
greatest ; come to prayer, come to prayer ; prayer is 
better than work, come to prayer" — is really the chief 
music that the traveller will ordinarily hear. The land 
is trodden down by the Gentiles, and hence it is widowed 
and without musia It is now, from Dan to Beer-sheba, 
and from the Jordan to the Great Sea, as when the 
Hebrew captives hung their harps on the willows of 
Babylon. 

And the wonder is deepened by the fact, that some 
of the Hebrew nation still take their place among 
the great composers of their times. But in their own 
land they are tuneless, as if its peeled and pillaged state 
made music impossible ; and the traveller will listen in 
vain for any of the sacred chants of Salem, accustomed 
as he is to trace the noblest of all odes ever set to music 
to the Land of Promise as their original This sadly 
tells us how complete is the desolation that has over- 
taken the land called the Holy ; it sometimes appears 
as if the traces of decay were too deep to admit of any 
emotions of joy amid such scenes. Who can look upon 
that sullen sea without sadness ? Who can recall what 
it entombs without standing in awe at the Holy One's 
rebuke 9 Yet that is only a solitary monument of retri- - 
bution. The land altogether is the same : " There they 
carried us away captive^ and required of us a song ; and 
they that wasted us required of us mirth, saying, Sing 
us one of the songs of Zion." 

The shores of the Dead Sea have been described as 
rugged, rocky, precipitous, and at many points admii^ 



THE DEAD SEA. 157 

6ng of no access to the waters. At the southern 
extremity strange formations in salt, amounting almost 
to a salt mountain, and called by that name, arrest the 
traveller's attention ; and there all is, of course, a con- 
summate sterility. There are spots, however, where 
the ardent suns of Palestine produce an Oriental vege- 
tation. That takes place wherever there is fresh water ; 
and to show that even the shores of the Dead Sea are 
not absolute desolation, we may glance at these green 
recesses before leaving the region. 

On the western shore, then, is Ain Jidy, the Engedi 
of Scripture. It is found in a wild ravine, where caves 
abound, which have been used as sepulchres for the 
dead, and as lurking-places, or even homes, for the 
living. The place, owing to its form, is warmer than 
even the vicinity of the sea ; and, in consequence of 
copious springs, the vegetation is ricL It was a fa« 
vourite even in the days of Solomon, for he finds in 
Engedi a figure to set forth the charms of her whom 
he eulogizes (Cant i 14). Here, also, some of the ad- 
ventures of David, while at strife with Saul, befell ; 
and whether the poetical allusions of Scripture to this 
region were borrowed from the camphire, or from a 
peculiar kind of grape which grows in such dells, the 
luxuriance of the place is equally settled. 

The cliflfe of Engedi, which means " Fountain of the 
Goats," are still the resort of that animal, unchanged 
in its haunts and habits, like all Eastern things. The 
• gazelle, and some less poetic representatives of the spe- 
cies, are still found there ; and between the caves, the 
fresh vegetation, the copious streams, and these ani- 



158 THE DEAD 8EA. 

malB still disportmg at the place, the trayeller of our 
day can, without much difficulty, go back in thought to 
David or to Solomon, — can luxuriate as of old in this 
rich dell, and discover that, while so much around him 
is bleak, sterile, and utterly blighted, there are speci- 
mens there to tell what the land once was, and what it 
may yet be again. 

Nor is this the only ravine with streams which here 
find their way to the bitter sea. With some exaggera- 
tion, yet picturesquely. Lieutenant Lynch thus describe^ 
what he calls "the veiy Egeria of foimtains :*•—" Far in 
among the cane, embowered, embedded, hidden deep in 
the shadow of purple rocks and luxuriant vegetation, 
lapsing with a gentle murmur from basin to basin, over 
the rocks, under the rocks, by the rocks, and clasping 
the rocks with its crystal arms, was this little fountain- 
wonder. The thorny nubk and the pliant osher 
were on the bank above ; yet lower the oleander and 
the tamarisk ; while upon its brink the lofty cane, bent 
by the weight of its fringe-like tassels, formed bowers 
over the stream fit for the haunt of Naiads. Diana 
herself could not have desired a more secluded bath 
than each of us took in a secluded basin.*' Lieutenant 
Lynch is disposed to claim for this spot the honour of 
being Sir Walter Scott's "Diamond of the Desert," 
though others allege that that is at EngedL 

But the beautiful in this land of contrasts not seldom 
lies in the lap or the vicinity of the terrific ; and not 
very far to the south of Engedi is found Masada, a 
stronghold which acquired a dismal celebrity during 
the Jewish wars. Waving the exa^erations of some 



MASADA. 159 

Teigarding the place, there are on the rock, which is 
from 1200 to 1500 feet above the sea, some remains of 
Roman defences, of palaces and strongholds, all testify- 
ing the importance of the castle which once crowned 
the height Here Herod built for himself one palace 
more, providing a place of safety, in case of need, on 
the summit of the stem and solemn crag, which could 
be approached only from one side by a winding ascent 
called "The Serpent," where ten men above might 
chase a thousand below. But all that is interesting 
about Masada fades away in comparison with the tra- 
gedy which was enacted there during the last struggles 
of Palestine against Home. Some men of doubtful 
character seized upon the place, determined to defend 
it to the last. Silva, the Boman assailant, surrounded 
it with a wall, to reduce the band by famine ; but they 
died rather than* yield. They were nine hundred and 
sixty in all ; and Eleazar, their chief, was the lit leader 
' of such a band. When all hope was past, the husbands 
slew their wives and children, and heaped them up 
together in one ghastly pila They next chose ten by 
lot to slaughter the men, — ^it was done. Then one was 
chosen from the ten to slay the nine,— that also was 
done. And, lastly, the tenth fell by his own hand. 
Some accounts teU of two women and five children 
who survived to tell the tale; but, even with that 
deduction, the horrid doings on that conical crag seem 
in some respects a match for the terrors connected with 
Sodom and Oomorrah. " His blood be on us and on 
our children," was once the imprecation of the Jews. 
Was the wish fulfilled or not on that rock, whose 



100 inEBlBAHWIIi. 

very colour, as well aa its hlatoiy, ia auggestiye of 
bloodt 

Such are some glimpses of the Dead Sea,— its shores, 
its wonders, its horrors, and yet its beauties. It is sad 
to be near it long ; but its marvellous correspondence 
with the Scriptural account has convinced at least one 
doubter that the word of Gk)d is what it claims to be. 



EICORSION YI. 

HEBI SAMWIIrMMIZPAHf) 

In describing the view from the Mount of Olives, a re« 
ference was made to Nebi Samwil, the highest emi^ 
nence to the west of Jerusalem, or between it and the 
Mediterranean. But that place and the whole region 
demand or deserve a separate visit 

Leaving Jerusalem, then, by the Damascus Gkite, 
the visitor soon enters Wady Beit Hanina. The Tombs 
of the Swings and the Judges, so called, are passed at a 
short distance from the city, and after a walk of about 
two hours, implying a space of five or six miles, the 
summit of the hill is gained. The route is sometimes 
bleak and sterile ; but the terraced slopes, with groves 
of the olive, and other trees, give, at some points, 
both beauty and fertility to the scene. They at least 
explain, in one respect, why this country is often so 
dreary now compared with former times. Bestow on 
it the same amount of culture, and its soil and its sky 



KEBI SAMWIL. 161 

would produce a similax abundance. But it is the 
view from Nebi Samwil and the history of the place 
that form the great attractions here. The crest of the 
hill, which is 2649 feet high, Jerusalem being 2200 feet, 
and Olivet 2398, is crowned with a mosque, which dis- 
placed a Christian church, and the Mohammedans 
venerate the prophet Samuel there, guided by the tra- 
dition that this is the Eamah where that prophet was 
bom. More recent investigations, however, rather in- 
dicate to some that this is Mizpah, not Bamah ; and 
though doubts still remain upon the subject, the most 
accurate critics on the Holy Land are persuaded that 
Mizpah was situated here (1 Sam. vii.) The name 
means toatchrtotoer, and no place near Jerusalem seems 
so suitable for that purpose ; but, on the other hand, 
Bamah means high, exalted, and that name also corre- 
sponds with the nature of the locality.* But be these 
things as they may, the eye of the visitor here sweeps 
from Jaffa on the sea-board over the districts of Beoja- 
min and Judah to Jerusalem and Mount Olivet, here 
blended into one, and stretches eastward to the moun- 
tains of Moab and Ammon. No enemy could move 
in force for any considerable distance in all that range, 
without being detected from this watch-tower. The 
wayfarer is thus enabled to form a correct notion of 
the region, and understand, from the nature of the 
country, why the prophet Samuel, as Judge in Israel, 
went " in circuit to Bethel, and Gilgal, and Mizpeh." 

* Dr. Stanley regards Kebl Samwil as the high place of Gibeon, 
and not as Mizpah. The latter he is disposed to identify with Scopus, 
wherever that was. — Sinai and Pakstine^ p. 22& 



103 KSBI SAVWIt. 

A» fitf ai th^ are known, or coi^ectiired, the ntei of 
theae places are foand in tbia district (1 Sam. m 16)l 

It was on tke Bwnmit of Nebi Samwil that trayiel- 
lets of old fiiat obtajned a glimpse of Jerusalem. It 
was, therefore, called ''IConnt Joy" in former times; 
and some sui^se that from the same height Bidbard 
G<9ur de laon, when adyandng &om Ajalon, caught a 
l^oeof the city, thov^h he would notlookonits towers, 
bat exclaimed, ''Ah, Lord God, I pray thati may never 
see thy Holy City, if I may not rescue it from the 
hands of thine enemies." Indeed, ia all ages this de- 
yated spot has been prominent among historical events ; 
and though it is now, like many other places, a scene 
for wordy contention, as before it was a place for actual 
strife and bloodshed, no one can look upon " the high 
place," or think of the idolatries which it witnessed, 
as well as of its sacredness when the Ark sojourned 
there, as it .did for many years^ without feeling that his 
visit to these mountains has not been la vain. He has 
penetrated here into the very heart of the country, and 
beheld the memorable scenes where Joshua established 
his power in CAnaan, and, in fact, won it for its God. 

At some distance northward from the spot now de- 
scribed we find the modem village of El-Bireh, " The 
WelL" It is the ancient Beeroth, and is remarkable as 
the first resting-place of the caravans proceeding north- 
ward to Sychar and elsewhere from Jerusal^n* A 
monkish tradition tells that this is the place where the 
mother of Jesus missed him as she was retmning ft&m 
the Passover, when she hastened back to the city to 
seek him. Considering how persistent are habits of all 



KSBI SAMWIL. 1^3 

kinds in the East, tiik legend i» piobably tnie; and 
here, ther«f<»e, we may indulge the hope that we are 
near the spot where an interesting incident in the SaY- 
iour's young life befelL 

But these ore not the only attractive plaiees to be 
found on this excursion. At a sh<^ distance to the 
south of NeU Samwil is El- Jib, or Gibeon, s^arated 
from Bamah by a deep valley. £1- Jib stands on a 
rocky eminence insulated fiom the surrounding hills by 
other valleys, yet overtopped by these elevations in a 
way of natural d^nce. It must have been a strong 
and extensive place of old, for mines, quarries, tombs, 
and other remains of former times, still attest the im- 
portance of the hold. Though now trodden down by 
the ill-conditioned peasant^ who nestle there, El-Jib, 
as Gibeon, is prominent in the Old Testament. It was 
from it that the deceivers came to impose upon Joshua 
at Gilgal, soon alter he entered the land, and strike a 
league with him, ignoble as regarded themselves, yet 
such as secured their exemption from utter destruction. 
Their worn-out shoes — ^their wine skins parched and 
rent, as if their journey had been a long one — their 
garments torn and beggarly — their bread old, and more 
than stale— all helped on the deception. Jericho and 
Ai had already fall^ before the conqueror ; and though 
the surrounding princes had combined to resist him, 
the Gibeonites thought deceit their best defence. So 
far they succeeded (Joshua ix.) Their city was strong, 
aad though they had overreached the Hebrews, their 
confederacy helped forward the subjugation of the land. 
It was just before the great battle of Ajalon, which de- 



164 KSBI SAMWIL. 

dded the fsite of that portion of Palestine. Their suo- 
oessful fraud, indeed, led to other evil results, but eyen 
these were overruled by Him who makes the wrath of 
man to praise him. Pausing upon one of these heights to 
ponder on the past, a devout mind may feel as if it were 
face to face with the Supreme, whose power has been so 
signally displayed among these mountains and valleys. 
And the past is closely connected with the present by 
what is sometimes witnessed there. It was one portion 
of the sentence on the Gibeonites for their treachery 
that they should be hewers of wood and drawers of 
water. Now, there is a famous fountain under a per- 
pendicular rock to the south-east of the modem viUa^e; 
then, at no great distance there is a pond or little lake ; 
and these things may have suggested the drawing of 
water, — especially when we remember that crowds must 
have resorted to Gibeon to worship when the Taber- 
nacle was stationed there. But in regard to the hew- 
ing of wood, that drudgery continues to this day. It 
is described as the severest kind of toil, and chiefly 
carried on by the women and children, who con- 
vey firewood from the hills of Gibeon to Jerusalem. 
Between these burdens and the drawing of water from 
deep wadies with steep banks, the lot of the Gibeonites 
is depicted as worse than slavery, and as exemplifying 
some of the most pathetic lamentations of Jeremiah. 
He says (Lam. v. 13), — " The children fell under the 
wood j" and the woe has descended from the Jew to the 
Moslem : it is mentioned as a characteristic of the region.*^ 

• Dr. Thomson, In The Land and the Book, hat made an ingenious 
nae of the lake or pool mentioned as existing near Gibeon. In Josh. xrilL 



NEBI SAMWIL. 1C5 

Beth-horon and Kirjath-jearim are both connected 
with Gibeon. In proceeding to the first, now called 
Beit-Ur, many ruins are found, and much to indicate 
that not merely in the days of Joshua, but in the wars 
which have often devastated the region since that time, 
these rocky passes were strongholds of importance. Yet 
all has not been war and bloodshed here. When the 
Tabernacle was kept in this region, till the ruler of 
Israel had found a place for the sacred symbol to rest 
in, royalty often frequented this vicinity. It was in 
some degree its home; and Wady-Suleyman, near 
Gibeon, is connected with the name of one who was 
the wisest, but became one of the most foolish, of the 
sons of men.* 

But it would not be easy, amid these plains and 
hill sides, so scorched and bare at some seasons of the 
year, to reproduce the gorgeous scenes which might 
have been witnessed when the Ark sojourned at Gibeon, 
or illustrated that vicinity. It was th6re, moreover, that 
Solomon sacrificed on a scale which we can scarcely 
comprehend: "Solomon loved the Lord, walking in 
the statutes of David his father : only he sacrificed and 
burnt incense in high places. And the king went to 
Gibeon to sacrifice there ; for that was the great high 
place : a thousand bumt-ofiferings did Solomon offer 
upon that altar" (1 Kings iii. 3, 4). In Gibeon also, in a 



14, one of the borders of Benjamin is described aa reaching to the tea, 
A glance at a map will show how difficult or Impossible that wonld be in 
regard to Gibeon and its vicinity. But the Hebrews called a lake a sea. 
Now, suppose this to be the lake or sea, and the difficulty vanishesL 

* Some suppose that it was at Gibeon that the Gibeonites hung up the 
leven sons of Saul, in rerenge for the daughter of their khidred. 



166 NEBi sunriL. 

dream by night, the Lord had appeared to Solomon, aad 
bestowed upon him more than he had asked or thought; 
00 that, while yisiting these mountains, we are ey^- 
more Iwought fisioe to fiice with the wondrous lonng^ 
kindness of God in contrast with the wajrwardness of 
man. ^Hie Father of lights gave wisdom : man tnmed 
it into foolishness. Jehorah appeared in his glory: 
man tamed from him to adore the — 

" Horrtd kins, besmeared wltti blood 
Of hnmaa Mcriflce, and fveaW teani** 

While gazing upon a panorama so crowded with his- 
torical associations as that which greets the eye from 
many a spot in this vicinity, event after event comes 
uncalled but welcome into the visitor's mind. For 
example, Anata, the ancient Anathoth, the birth-place 
of Jeremiah (i. 1), lies in this region ; and as this site 
for once seems to be indisputably ascertained, we can 
here rejoice in a certainty not always within our reach. 
The modem village is poor, and half in rains. The 
hour's journey which brings the wayfarer to the capital, 
also leads him through the tract of country which the 
assailants of Jerusalem often traversed in advancing 
against it. In describing the approach of Sennacherib's 
army, as it marched to its grave in the neighbourhood 
of the city, Isaiah furnishes a catalogue of the places 
in that vicinity. His vivid word-picture may weU be 
studied amid these scenes : it is by no means a bad 
topography; nay, it is thoroughly good in as far as the 
sites have been ascertained. Spot after spot yields to 
the invader ; family after family flee or succumb ; gra- 
dually the city where all the hopes of Sennacherib were 



centred » approached by the inTadbni But hear Isaiah's 
own pictorial words : — ^' He is come to Aiath, he is 
passed to Migron ; at Michmash he hath laid up his 
carriages :♦ they are gone over the passage : they have 
taken up their lodging at Geha ; Samah is afraid ; 
Gibeaht of Saul is fled. lift up thy roice, O daught^ 
of Gallim ; cause it to be heard unto Laish, poor 
Anathoth. ICadmenah is removed; the inhabitants of 
Qebim gather themselves to flee. As yet shall he re- 
main at Nobt that day : he shall shake his hand i^ainst 
the mount oi the daughter of Zion, the hill of Jerusa- 
lem." Such was the Assyrian's advance. We know 
that He who was iot walls and bulwarks round his 
Zion made the retreat a fax less proud display ; but on 
that account we can just the more easily realize the 
power of a present God. 

Such scenes, then, far more than repay a visit to the 
Holy Land, where that power may be felt on every hill 
top, or in every valley. Some of the places, for instance, 
Aiath or Ai, may not yet be completely identified (though, 
in our opinion, Ai is), but the outline of the country is 
now so well defined in regard to the leading places, 
that the reading of the Bible there becomes somewhat 
like the study of a map. Indeed, no portion of the 
land is more absolutely a portion of history than that 
which Nebi Samwil overlooks. Some parts of it are 
rocky, and scarred as if a volcano had scathed ii Deep 
ravines and waterless wadies abound in the district, 



* For tiie country waa too hilly to admit of their nae. 

tXowJlb'a. 

i A place dtnated near the north end of the Monnt of OUreai 



168 NEBI S^MWIL. 

and much remains to 'he still disinterred, for only con- 
jecture has at some points hitherto been at work. Bat 
far and near, the history of Old Testament times is le- 
enacted here. There are the mountains of Jndah. 
Yonder is Pisgah, or Mount Nebo. In that direction is 
Bethany, in that lies Bethlehem; and all these may well 
fasten truth upon the mind like a nail in a sure place. 
That truth becomes embahoied in the memory; and 
though mere history be not saving truth, yet God has 
made history the vehicle for conveying that truth to 
man, and blessed is the heart which welcomes it as firom 
Qod. True, to see a Moslem mosque now crowning 
Mizpah, and there supplanting a Christian church, ap- 
pears like a dark cloud hanging over the scene. But it 
is a cloud fringed with light. The darkness will yet be 
dispelled, when glory once more makes the Land of the 
Book its home. 

Upon the whole, our wanderings around Jerusalem 
bring out this fact distinctly— these rugged scenes could 
never have been an agricultural countiy, in the Western 
sense of the words. Olive-yards may have abounded, 
and at some places they do so stilL The vine, the fig, 
and other fruit-trees, may have been no less frequent; 
and competent judges pronounce a country under cul- 
ture for such productions to be far more picturesque 
than tame corn-lands.^ It is even said, and we believe 
it, that the country around Jerusalem, when it was 
clothed with orchards of firuit-trees, with vineyards, or 
olive fields, " must have shown one of the most agree- 

* Dr. Thomson — The Land and the Book. 



BETHEL. 169 

able panoramas the eye of man ever beheld." All that 
IB needed is good government, right principle among the 
goyemed, the ancient industry restored, and the delight- 
some land would be a delightsome land once more. 
Land on which olives grow is worth more, acre for 
acre, than any kind of grain.* Hence the ancient rich- 
ness of Palestine, and hence the hope evermore recur- 
ring, that its fertility may yet be restored. 

BETHEL. 

Without returning to Jerusalem, this Excursion might 
be prolonged by a visit to Bethel and its stony vicinity, 
one of the earliest scenes of interest known even in 
Palestine. The modem name of the place is Beitin; 
but men are generally agreed that it is identified. 
There were the oak and the grave of DeboraL The 
forest of Bethel is mentioned once and again in Scrip- 
ture ; but it is first made illustrious as the place where 
Abraham pitched his tent. Lying between the central 
parts of Judah and the valley of the Jordan, it was in 
•the line of one of the great thoroughfares of the land ; 
so that, both in going to Egypt and returning from it, 
the patriarch set up an altar to his God at Bethel 
The mountain east of it, having Bethel on the west and 
Ai on the east, was a noted scene in Abraham's history, 
for there he and Lot most probably separated, the one to 
the neighbourhood of Sodom, the other to the west. There 
also Jacob rested with a stone for his pillow, and dreamed 

• Div Thomson — The Land and (In Boot 



170 BKTHSL. 

the dream more interesting far than any mortal reality. 
The hare rocks, without any shelter for the wayfarer, 
seem to indicate that the neighbourhood is now what 
it was in the days of Jacob, the wrestler--^ The house 
of God,*' although rough and trying to his s^vani 

After the time of Jacob's visit, when he set up the 
stone pillow for a pillar of remembrance, a sanctuary 
arose at Bethel Then the Judges gathered the people 
together there for public assemblies (Judges zz. 18, 26). 
Luz, a city of the Ganaanites, stood upon the spot, 
till they were superseded by others. War gathered 
round the place, and both as a frontier town and a sanc- 
tuary. Bethel became sacred to the Jews. At length 
Jeroboam built a tempHe there ; and, according to some, 
remains of that temple may perhaps exist in the emi- 
nences aboYC the modem Beitin. In the days of Hosea, 
or before them, the place had become the scene of ido- 
latrous abominations, where a rival temple and rival 
gods — "the calves" — vied with Jehovah and his 
worship;— man's defiling invraitions, or what Jero- 
1x)am had "devised out of his own heart," supplanted 
the revelation and the laws of the Eternal The pro- 
phecies of Hosea (iv., v., vL,) should be read upon the 
spot, to indicate at once the deep degradation of the 
idolaters, and the yearnings of mercy over them after 
all Its subsequent history should also be traced, for 
gross abominations were there, which had to be swept 
from the face of the earth ; and when the cup of its 
iniquity was full, Bethel became heaps, like other places 
in the guilty land Its very site was long unknown, or, 
at least, utterly unheeded ; and it has been one of the 



RAHLIU. 171 

h«t to be identiikd l^ the iadustry and penetration oi 
modem refiearcb. 

Perhaps there is no spot in all the land of larael 
where we can more vividly learn the deep meaning of 
the prophetic writings than here. Some of these writ- 
ings seem dark and obscure. They refer to doings 
which we do not understand, or to scenes with which 
we are not acquainted ; and are, therefore, often read 
without interest But at Beitin every word becomes 
significant— a commentary is before our eyes. The revolt 
involved in idolatry— the crushing of that by Omnipo- 
tence—its re-appearance in new forms, and spreading 
like a leproe^^ till it had affected the whole heart, and 
soul, and strength, and mind, and so ended in ruin, — 
these are some of the truths forced upon us amid such 
scenes, and the wisest heart will most profoundly pon- 
der such results. Does not the Power which has levelled 
idolatrous Bethel with the dust stand pledged to do the 
same to idolatry in every form 1 



EicoRSioN vn. 

SAUIEH. 

This place is situated on the road to Jaffa, and is 
about twenty-seven miles from Jerusalem, and ton 
from the sea. The road thither is difficult and not 
always interesting, but leaving the capital by the gate 
already so often mentioned, that which leads to Bethle- 



172 BAMLEH. 

hem in one direction, and Jaffa in another, the visitor 
prooeeds along the route which myriads of pilgrims 
have trod, and where perhaps more mingled emotions 
have been felt than in the same space in any coun- 
try in the world. The region is studded with ruins 
and crowded with Scriptural associations ; indeed, the 
visitor will here traverse scenes, not a few of which are 
of deepest interest in the history of the land. 

Emerging from the city, then, he skirts the upper 
valley of Gihon, and at the distance of less than two 
miles reaches the spot where Jerusalem first becomes 
visible to the traveller from the sea coast. There mul- 
titudes have paused to weep, td pray, to indulge in 
maudlin sentiment, or thank God for the sight, accord- 
ing to the state of the pilgrim's mind. But by this 
route not merely have pilgrims approached the city. 
Her proud conquerors have assailed her along this line 
of march. Egypt, Babylon, Greece, and Borne, have all 
come up against her; and with the mind in that state 
of half-excitement which is not uncommon in the land 
of the Messiah, it is not difficult to people these paths 
as of old with the mailed legions of Bome, or the 
resistless veterans of Alexander's wars. Such spots as 
greet the visitor along this route transform the whole 
region into a vast remembrancer, and at every step 
new events are suggested by new sights and scenes. 
The festivals of Judaism, the achievements of its war- 
riors, the footsteps of its Messiah, all help to make our 
present journey one of unwonted interest. 

At some distance from the city, the country, which is 
often bleak, and scorched, and barren near the capital. 



RAHLEH. 173 

assumes a gay and green appearance. Near the village 
of Kolonieh* orchards are found where the olive and 
the vine mingle with the pomegranate and other fruits. 
Deep dells, picturesque ruins, somewhat lofty hills, — ^in 
short, a greater variety of rural beauty than is conmion 
in the region, gladdens the wayfarer. The alleged, 
though not very probable site of the village of Emmaus, 
referred to by Luke (xxiv.), gives further interest to the 
journey at this point, while deep ravines and wooded 
slopes help to foster the high expectations of richness 
and beauty which nearly all entertain when they wan- 
der over the Land of the Book. 

Still further along the route the village of Kuriet-el- 
Enab is visited. It stands in a district varied by pas- 
ture lands and green valleys, by stately trees, and 
other traces of past or present well-being. But the 
chief interest of the place, now lorded over by a modem 
freebooter whom even the Sultan can scarcely tame, is 
the supposition that Kuriet-el-Enab is the modem re- 
presentative of Kiijath-jearim, or " the city of forests." 
Thither the Ark was carried from Beth-shemesh, and 
there it remained till David removed it in state to the 
capital of the land. The king, we know, was anxious 
that the symbol of the presence of his God should have 
a permanent resting-place, and " to bring up the ark of 
Gk)d the Lord** he went up and all Israel to Kiijath* 
jeariuL It is a wild scene, taken as a whole, and the 
jubilee feeling which accompanied the transference can 



* This is the Arabic form of Colonia. The Romans had a colony in this 
neighboorhood, and the remaining arch of a mined Boman bridge in one 
of the wadies tells of their presence. 



174 BAJCLEH. 

without much difficulty be reproduced by the reflec- 
tive traveller, wheu "David and all Israel played before 
God with all their xuight, aud with siugiug, and with 
haips, and with psalteries^ and with timl»els, and with 
cymbals, and with trumpets." The daughters of music 
have now disappeared from that land, and the art, as 
we have seen, is little cultivated ; for the most part it is 
haish discord, not sweet sounds. But on the occasion 
^hich is here referred to, no fewer than five musical in- 
strum^ts are named. In this respect, as in others, the 
glory has departed. 

From Kuriet-el-Enab, "the city of grapes," ihe road 
descends in a manner that is somewhat perilous to 
wayfarers— at some points the pass is narrow and pre- 
cipitous, and renders travelling rather more an adven- 
ture than a pastima Beyond it the country is rocky, 
and abounds in wooded ravines, though different tra- 
vellers describe it according to their different views 
and impressions. The (^ve grows on the slopes. 
Flowers of varied hues give their beauty, at some sea- 
sons, to the route, and, as a resting-place half way 
between Jerusalem and Kamleh is found in this vicinity, 
the country is sometimes an al fresco hotel for the 
many-hued, many-tongued dwellers in the East, as well 
as for pilgrims from the West. It should be added, that 
roads formed in the rocky beds of mountain streams, 
in such a district as this, do not add to the comfort of 
the wayfarer. " We are in Palestine" must form his 
solace amid all such troubles. 

Another movement nearer to Eamleh brings the 
traveller to a fabulous but not uninteresting spot. It 



175 

IB El-Latron, the birth-plaoe» according to tradition, of 
the penitent thief who was crucified along with the 
Beddemer. It was perhaps a fortress in aadrat times, 
commanding this approach to the city. In this neigh- 
bourhood, we are told, Solomon built Beth-horon 
the upper, and Beth-horon the nether, fenced cities 
with walls (1 Kings! iz. 17), and similar purposes 
might suggest the building now called El-Latron. But 
be that as it may, tradition has seised upon the ruined 
fort, and it is now sacred to the memory of the penitent 
thief in the eyes of all traditionistB. 

From this point to Bamleh, by El-kubab, a distance 
of perhaps ten miles, the path leads through a country 
where occasional glimpses of much beauty are seen — 
woody slopes, deep ravines, and a considerable extent 
of tilth. But there is little to detain us till we reach 
Bamleh, which lies on the eastern slope of a broad, 
undulating eminence in the wide plain which stretches 
hence away to the Mediterranean and Jaffa. The place 
is surrounded by gardens of delicious fruits, and by 
rich olive groves. Occasional pahn-trees are aJso seen, 
and some of the houses are substantially built of 
stone. The inhabitants axe about 3000 in number, of 
whom about one-third are professedly Christian, as 
one of the largest convents in Palestine is found at 
Bamleh. 

But the diief object of attention here is a tower of 

doubtful origin, though of extensive use to the visitor. 

Some reckon it the remains of an ancient khan ; others 

assign to it the rank of a minaret, the latter perhaps 

. the true explanation. It is of solid mason-work, and 



176 RAMLEH. 

about 120 feet high, affording from the summit one of 
the noblest views in the region. To the west is the 
Great Sea, and the plain of Sharon between; to the 
east are the mountains; while all around is crowded 
with a beauty which forms a pleasing yestibule to the 
wonders of the land. The prospect has been compared 
to the valley of the Rhine, as seen from the castle of 
Heidelberg; or to the plains of Lombardy from the 
Duomo of Milan, — and though these comparisons may 
be somewhat extreme, no traveller should visit Bamleh 
without enjoying this view of Palestine, at once rich, 
varied, and surpassingly beautiful 

Bamleh means mnd, or sandp, and the surrounding 
soil explains the name. Some claim for it the honour of 
being the Ramathaim-zophim of Scripture, and others 
regard it as the Arimathea of Joseph, who furnished a 
tomb for the crucified One. These claims, however, are 
controverted, and more light is needed ere a decision can 
be formed. As far back as the ninth century it bore its 
present nama The Greeks, the Latins, and the Ar- 
menians have each a convent here, but the Saracenic 
style of the minaret, and other things, indicate what 
power is paramount Bamleh at one period had a 
castle and walls, and, during the crusades, it was 
deemed a place of much importance, so that it passed 
through all the vicissitudes of fortune incident to those 
dark but earnest times. When Bichard of England 
approached it in the year 1191, his great rival, Saladin, 
caused the fortress, along with others, to be razed. 
Some allege, fiurther, that the Templars had a convent 
and a church at Bamleh, but here again we are involved 



RAMLEH. 177 

in antiquarian labyrinths, and, instead of becoming 
entangled in these, it seems better to admire the out- 
spread beauty which environs the place. Sharon, 
though shorn of its roses now, is still a fair region 
towards the north, and Philistia, though stripped of its 
formidable warriors, still stretches invitingly towards 
the sea-board on the south. Though there be nothing 
to show that the Saviour ever visited this place, yet if 
we might connect the name of Joseph with it, that 
would bring us into dose proximity to Him whose 
name is above every name. It would link us once 
more to Him who gives its supreme charm to the land, 
apart from whom it might still seem flEur, but could in 
no sense be holy.* 

That we have not overrated the beauty of Ramleh 
and its vidnity, is plain from many a traveller's journal 
One, for example, says that the country, as its author 
saw it, was green with grass and dappled with flowers. 
The bean-fields perfumed the whole air with their 
fragrance, the olive-groves resounded with the song of 
birds, the lark, with unwearying wing, soared high 
overhead, and the stork proudly stepped along its 
way. True, these attractions were dashed by the un- 
seemliness of some portions of the place, and its disson- 
ance with western ideas. Yet, in more respects than 
its architecture, Bamleh appears to combine the Orien- 
tal and the Occidental, displaying some of the peculiar 
beauties of each. 

* It Is more probable that we must seek Arimathea at a village a short 
distance from Lndd, abont to be mentioned. Indeed, there we hare, ao- 
eording to some, the natiye place of the man " who vent in boldly nnf^ ^ 
rUate, and craved the body of Jesna." 



1T8 BAMI.EH. 

But the iicconnt now given is tame compared with 
the most recent, perhaps, of all ^ The view from the 
top of the tower/* it says, "is inexpressihly grand. 
The whole plain of Sharon, from the mountains of 
Judea and Samaria to the sea, and from the foot of 
Carmel to the sandy deserts of Philistia, lies spread out 
like an illimiinated map. Beautiful as vast, and 
diversified an beautiful, the eye is fascinated, the 
imagination enchanted, especially when the last rays 
of the setting sun light up the white viUages which sit 
or hang among the many-shaped declivities of the 

mountains At such an hour I saw it once and 

again, and often lingered until the stars looked out firom 
the deep sky, and the breezes of evening shed soft dews 
on the feverish land. What a paradise was here, when 
Solomon reigned in Jerusalem, and sang of the 'rose 
of Sharon!' Better still will it be when He who is 
greater than Solomon shall sit on the throne of David 
his father, for in his days shall the righteous flourish, 
and abundance of peace, so long as the moon endureth. 
The mountains shall bring peace to the people, and 
the little hills by righteousness." * Such is the manner 
in which everything here leads up the mind to the 
Anointed. In truth, the Holy Land is a test of the 
state of our hearts. Can we wander amid its scenes, 
and admire its beauty, or weep for its degradation, 
without thought of Him whose ri^t it is to rule ha%7 
Then is the heart right with God? On the other hand, 
is the Anointed always the centre to which we turn) — 

• The Landandthe Book, vol. IL pp. 29», Wa 



LUDD. 17§ 

is He the tenninus at which we rest? Then we are 
like-minded with Piuil and Peter and all the ins{Hred 
band Jerusalem on high is our real home. 

From the Minaret of Raml^, if it 6e a minaret, the 
eye of the traveller has roamed over a very goodly 
landscape. But it may be ))etter still if he can make 
that town his centre for a time, and thence visit some 
of the scriptural places around it. Among these the 
first may be Ludd, the ancient Lydda. It stands about 
three miles north-east from Ramleh, and is surrounded 
by olive-groves. Its gardens and orchards, like those 
of Ramleh, rank among the richest in Palestine— they 
furnish hints, at least, as to what the country once 
was. Ludd is reputed the birth-place of St George, 
the legendary patron of England. He was bom here, 
men say, in the third century, and perished in Nieo- 
media during the persecutions imder Diocletian. He 
was interred here, and his church or his tomb became 
the centre of many a desperate struggle during crusading 
times. But Ludd needs not the poor celebrity which 
these equivocal records bestow, for it has nobler associa- 
tions than such sources can supply (1 Ohron. viii 12 ; 
Acts iz. 32-38). There Peter preached the gospel to 
" the saints which dwelt Bt Lydda ; " there, also, he 
said to Eneas, who ''had kept his bed eight years," 
''Jesus Christ maketh thee whole." Thence he was 
summoned to Joppa on the death of Dorcas ; and with 
such memories floating around it, we need not, when 
at Lydda, seek the adventitious aid either of papal 
saints or fierce crusaders. Among the olive-groves and 
fruit-gardens of the place, with the New Testament for 



180 LUDD. 

hia guide, and its glad tidings for his joy, a devout man 
will listen to the still small roice which tells of the City 
of our God in the better country on high. 

In the neighbourhood of Ludd, and quite near to St 
Geoige*s Church, the visitor may find a pleasant, shady 
buiying-ground It is Mohammedan, and one is curious 
to know how " Gh)d*s acre" is used by the followers of 
Islam. In rural places, at least, their mode of inter- 
ment is plain even to rudeness. A simplicity is affected 
in their worship which is in striking contrast with the 
gaud and the goigeousness of the Greek or Papal pomp ; 
and it is the same in regard to sepultura If attractive 
at all, the dwelling of the dead is not made attractive 
by decoration. 

First in a funeral procession comes a group of boys, 
some of them, perhaps, attracted by what is rare in a 
country town or village. They are bare-footed, bare- 
headed, and ragged, and chant a kind of wail or diige 
in harmony with the occasion. 

These are followed by men walking two and two 
abreast, and echoing the monotonous lament of the boys. 
They are clothed in bng frocks and trousers, turbaned, 
and sometimes seem grave or even venerable. If the 
place be populous, there may be some blind men in 
the procession, led by their friends, and augmenting 
by their presence the sadness of the scene. The bier 
follows next, which is carried by four men. The body 
is wrapt in a white doth, and the turban of the dead 
man is placed above his body, as a soldier's trappings 
are laid on his coffin among us. 

Besides the mourners now mentioned, there are 



EKBOK. 281 

females in the procession veiled in white, with only 
openings for their eyes. From time to time they utter 
a piercing shriek, and at that sound of nature's outcry 
(assuming it to be genuine, and not professional), the 
stranger from a far country feels linked to the swarthy 
mourners by the tie of a common humanity, so as to 
be unable to refrain from joining his sorrow to theirs. 
Sometimes the wail swells out into a kind of howl, and 
then, mingling with the lament of the men, it occasions 
a certain degree of awe to the onlooker. 

In some places of the East no coffin is used by the 
Mohammedans. The body is merely wrapt in doth, 
and then deposited in the grave, where it is sometimes 
covered with a low stone arch. — Strange sights these 
to which to turn a traveller's attention, but they are as 
salutary as they are strange, since we are dying daily. 

Such is the mode of interment among the people who 
follow Islam. Ludd contains about 2000 active and 
thriving inhabitants, and nestles amid olive, fig, pome- 
granate, mulberry, sycamore, and other tree& Though 
the town is dilapidated, and contains the sad remains 
of former greatness, at least beyond its present state, 
it is made pleasant by its rich vicinity and its glowing 
orchards. 

Another excursion might be made from Bamleh to 
Akir, the Ekron of the Philistines, at the distance of 
perhaps six miles. It was thither that the ark was 
carried by the Philistines, when they triumphed over 
Israel— where Eli's infamous sons were killed— and 
after whose discomfiture and disaster old Eli him- 
self fell back and died. Itisaphiceofmoumfulmemo- 



188 SKBOK. 

ries, Ekron, and like ten thousand other sceneo, it 
aays, " Be sure your sios will find you out" But 
the captors of the ark were fain at last to send home 
their prize, and from Ekron the kine which drew the 
vehicle proceeded straightway to Beth-shemesh. These, 
and other incidents connected with those events, make 
this region full of interest The true God has here as- 
serted his supremacy over the fly-god of Ekron, and will 
he not yet do the same with all the gods of the nations ? 

Of course the traveller will proceed to Beth-shemesh, 
which is now known as Ain-es-shems. Here, or near 
this, was the ancient town, and to that place the lords 
of the Philistines were eager to see their ark deported, 
when the milch-kine, &vouring the fears of the con- 
querors, '* took the straight way to the way of Beth- 
shemesh, and went along the highway, lowing as they 
went, and turned not aside to the right hand or to the 
left; andthelords of the Philistines went after them unto 
the border of Beth-shemesL" Disease and death had 
been upon them from the time that the ark was in their 
possession. Ashdod had cried to be rid of the woe ; 
Oath, after much suffering, did the same ; Ekron would 
not endure it for a single day. The whole region was 
plague-struck by the detention of the sacred symbol, and 
as the traveller passes through these scenes, the topo- 
gr£4)hy of the district writes these events upon the 
mind like a pen of iron upon a rock. 

But there is at least one site more to be visited in 
this district It is Yalo, or AJ^on, the scene of the 
battle and the miracle of Joshua. It might have been 
■i^n to the right of the route from Jerusalem to Ram- 



leh, lying about half-way between these two places, 
and between the two approaches to Jerusalem from the 
north-westr- namely, that which has been followed here 
by Euriet-el-Eaab and Kolonieh, and the longer and 
more northern route which leads by Ludd to the capi- 
tal But in whateTer way it is approached, this Yalo 
or ^alon is one of the most wondrous scenes in all 
God's world. It appears from the Minaret or Cam- 
panile of Bamleh as an opening among the hills which 
euTiron Jerusalem on the north-west, and render the 
approach to that city not ea^. There Joshua of old 
discomfited the Amorites ; there " the sun stood still in 
the midst of the heavens" at the bidding of a mortal 
man, while he was working the work of God ; there 
Omnipotence wrought for the accomplishment of its 
own purposes ; and there the sun and moon alike were 
obedient to the will of Him who made them. The 
former *' hasted not to go down about a whole day ;** 
and as Joshua, in taking possession of Canaan for his 
God, had walked from city to city, the conqueror of 
them all, so here a mightier power appears than eren 
that which conquers citie& Kings became confederate 
against the victorious invader. They determined to dis- 
pute his title to what God over all had given him, and 
their discomfiture would be, in effect, the taking of the 
whole land. Battle and pursuit, furious onset, and as 
furiouB slaughter in the flight, are the result ; and that 
the work may be complete, the heavens above will 
help the earth beneath. The sun on Gibeon, and the 
moon in the Valley of Ajalon, with the rush of the van- 
quished and the victors down the rocky pass of Beth- 



184 THE PALM. 

boron towards thevalley below, proclaim that tbevictory 
is complete. We are now traveraing the scene of these 
events, and there we are brought into as close contact 
with the Omnipotent as we can well be on eartL — ^The 
yet more amazing miracle which completes the new 
creation in a soul, will render this marvel intelligible 
to those in whom God is making all things new. 

And such are some of the scriptural scenes which 
may be visited during an excursion to BamleL Every 
hill and every valley has its story— -not a vague tradition, 
but a portion of history for ever, when Qod was taking 
possession of the land for his people, and for an arena 
on which to work out his purposes on eartL 

In surveying these scenes, reference ha« often been 
made to the fruits which abound in the region. The 
orange groves and their productions around Jaffa are 
famed throughout the world. The apple, the pear, 
and the quince, the pomegranate, the olive, the pine, the 
fig, the mulberry, and others, all are there. The palm 
also is seen at some places, and the visitor may thus 
become acquainted with the marvellous riches wrapt 
up in that single tree, — ^proof as it is at once of the 
wisdom and the goodness of the great Creator, in 
meeting man's wants in every land and clime. Begin- 
ning with the roots, the inquirer will find them as well 
adapted as a sponge to suck up every drop of water 
within their reach. The fibres are long, soft, or almost 
pulpy strings which penetrate to great depths in the 
soil— not horizontally, for that were useless where the 
surface is parched, but vertically, so as to seize upon 
every particle of moisture that escapes the evaporation 



THE PALM. 185 

produced by the heat at the surfaca These fibres or 
water-suckers are countless in number; and hence, 
in regions otherwise destitute of every green thing, the 
pahn-tree, with its umbrageous tufts, may be seen fresh 
and flourishing amid the very sand — an emblem at once 
scriptural and appropriate of the man who is planted 
in the house of God. 

This tree of the desert, as the camel is the ship of 
the desert, being thus rooted and nourished, every 
fragment of it is turned to some economic purpose. 
To the sons of the wilderness it is, in some sense, a 
precious catholicon. The stem, tall and erect as a pillar, 
is employed for solid and enduring purposes, in as far 
as such things are contemplated by roaming Arabs at 
alL Its leaves furnish what is as grateful to the travel- 
ler in the East, as a home in the West— namely, a shade 
from the fiery sun. Its fruit is a staple article of food, 
and the very kernel is pounded into a kind of provender 
for horses and camels. Again, the foliage is twisted into 
baskets of various kinds and panniers of various sizes. 
Some of the fibres serve as a friction-brush to bathers. 
The juice of the palm-tree, it is well known, is made 
into arrakf and becomes a favourite beverage with some 
Orientals. The palm, moreover, is the symbol of 
triumph or of joy, as many portions of Scripture de- 
clare ; and, in a sentence, no one can hear the breeze of 
the desert or the garden, whispering among the palm- 
leaves, without being reminded in many ways of the 
goodness of God. Its exquisite adaptation to meet the 
wants of man in the r^on where it abounds, proves 
that He, at least, has put all things in their right place. 



188 BSTfiUEHBlL 

There Is no confusioa among the works of His hand, — 
noaei for ever, unless man had dislocated and deranged 
them by a revolt in Eden and rebellion ever since. 



EICDRSION Tin. 



Ov this Excorslon we leave the city by the Ja& Gate 
again. The lower pool, Es-Sultan, and the Hill of Evil 
Counsel, which stands opposite to Mount Zion, and 
where the advice of Gaiaphas, that '^one man should 
die for the people," is alleged to have been given, are 
passed. The road then winds along the plain of 
Rephaim, where tradition, and perhaps history, places 
the disaster of Sennacherib and his hosts when they 
lay encamped against Jerusalem, where they boasted 
themselves against the Eternal, but were crushed by 
him like the moth. Nor can we forget that along this 
line we are most probably pursuing the very path which 
was followed by the wise men from the east, on their way 
from Herod's presence at Jerusalem to that of the greater 
iAiBXL Herod at Bethlehem. It is true that this route 
also is disfigured by tales about a well at which they 
drank, and where the star re-appeared i^r being 
lost for a time ; but dismissing such things, as one here 
learns to do, and delivering up the mind to the genius 
of the place and its gladdening recollections, the visit 
.ceases to be a pilgrimage,— it becomes a jubilee proces- 



} 

•I 




BETHLSHEM. 187 

Bion. War and oppression may have disfigured the 
scene, bat the truths of the past are too deeply carved 
upon it to be effaced even by the ravages of war. 

And yet, it were to lose much of the wisdom which 
may be learned in this land to ignore even its stolid tradi- 
tions. To show, by one example more, how everything 
here is encumbered with legends, the following example, 
perhaps, deserves a place : — T^e Convent of the Cross, or, 
according to the Arabs, Deir-Masalabeh, lies in a valley 
to the west of the plain of Bephaim, and two or three 
miles from Jerusalem. The name of the convent is de- 
rived from the following legend :— A ^ress-tree was 
planted on the spot l^ Abraham ; ItVas (»trefully watered 
by Lot, but at last cut down by^ Solomon to serve as a 
beam of the Temp)6. Yet, do what they might, the work- 
men could not nlake that beam fit any portion of the 
structure, and it was accordingly discarded. In due 
time, however, and after it had existed some two thou- 
sand ycj&rs, Pontius Pilate needed a beam for the cross, 
and the tree which Abraham planted now served the 
purpose! The hole in which that Wonderful cypress 
once grew is still shown under the high altar. The his- 
tory of its various changes is daubed in glaring colours 
on the walls of the convent ; and thus this tree, like the 
solitary and distorted tree of Judas, on the Hill of Evil 
Counsel, as well as others throughout the country, is 
made to do good service to the cause of superstition. 
It also shows how much the Church has to do before 
the truth of God can have free course in the world* 

To the left of the path to Bethlehem, and on a rising 
^rround, is the Greek convent of Mar illias, fabulously 



l8d BETHLEHEM. 

oonnected with Elijah. In Borne, when one church 
or convent has been fayoured with some lucrative 
prodigy, the church or the convent in the a^oining 
street must get up a rival exhibition, else the offerings 
and the devotees who make them will all ebb away. 
In like manner in the Holy Land, if one sect has sue- 
oeeded in appropriating such a place as Gethsemane, 
another must produce some rival attraction, and on some 
such principle, the scene where Elijah's heart was like 
to break, and where he felt it would be well if he could 
die, is transferred from Beersheba, the utmost corner 
of the land, to this convent of Mar Elias. It may be 
passed or visited at pleasure, for all that the monks 
have connected with it is fabulous, and nothing more. 
Yet from the mount one can see both Bethlehem and 
Jerusalem, a fact on which traveller after traveller has 
well and devoutly commented. 

At no great distance from the convent the reputed 
Tomb of Rachel is found ; and here tradition and Scrip- 
ture appear to be as much in harmony as they are at 
variance at Mar Elias. By that tomb we are brought 
into contact with some of the remotest events of history 
(see Gen. xxxv. 16-20), for it is scarcely possible to 
escape from the conviction that this is the place where 
Bachel died and was buried, and where Jacob set a pil- 
lar upon her grave. A Turkish mosque, or weli, till 
lately occupied the site, but it is now the property of 
the Jews ; and the whole circumstances seem to render 
it plain that they are really in possession of the ashes 
of their ancestor. The dust of a believer reposing there 
is as safe, and under as sure a Guardian, as if it had laiu 



BETHLEHEM. 180 

m the Temple of Jerusalem, and He who lost '' nothing " 
of all that the Father gave him wiU find it without 
difficulty at last 

Near this spot, at Beit Jala, travellers bdieve they have 
discovered the Zelzah, where Saul found the asses of 
Kish, his father ; but this, and even the burial-place of 
Bachel, is overshadowed by the acUacent birth-place 
of the Saviour— Bethlehem— the " little " among the 
hundreds of Judah, but great in the estimation of every 
believer, and great for evermore. As we approach from 
the Tomb of Rachel, the substantial houses, flat-roofed, 
or crowned with domes, begin to attract attention. 
Most travellers will gaze wistfully at the sight there 
presented, and, in the distance at least, it is inviting. 
The heavily buttressed walls which enclose the Church 
of the Nativity are prominent in the view, and thither 
all steps are turned, though many are aware that super- 
stition, not religion, reigns in the place. Gardens 
stocked with vines, olives, and other fruit-trees, beautify 
the approach, and the aspect of the town, superior to 
many in this land, still further cheers the visitor. 
Bethlehem now contains about 2000 inhabitants, nearly 
all of whom are called Christians, though belonging to 
different sects or tribes. In the neighbourhood of the 
place, at certain seasons, there are com fields, where it 
is not difficult for fancy to reproduce Boaz with his 
reapers, and Ruth pennitted to glean. 

On all sides Bethlehem is surrounded by hills and 
intersecting valleys. In the distance the mountains of 
Moab and Ammon still bound the eastward view. 
But tranquil as the scene appears, and crowded witb 



ItK) BKTHLfiHEtf. 

attractions, all grows pale before the Biblical aMociations, 
Among these hills David tended his father's sheep, 
and there he was anointed to be king of Israel (1 Sam. 
zvL 13). There is the well, as is commonly believed, 
from which three mighty men of his host fetched water 
for the king at the hazard of their life (2 Sam. zxiiL 16). 
But there, above all, in Bethlehem Ephratah, was the 
prophecy fulfilled which declared that, little as it was, 
it was to be the home of that King whose goings forth 
have been of old, from everlasting (Micah y. 2). On 
these very plains were heard the angelic song which 
told of that King's birth, and in him of peace on earth 
and goodwill to men (Luke iL &-15). The stars looked 
down upon the scene, and if the lights of the sky sang 
together when the world was made, how much more 
when it was redeemed 1 After gazing on such sights 
no one need say much of the impressiveness of other 
scenes— in comparison with this they all £Eide away 
into dimness. To thisr point what myriads of hearts 
have turned I What myriads of hopes were realized 
here I How amazing the hour when heaven came down 
to earth, and heaven's King tabernacled among the sons 
of men! What influences have hence gone forth to 
roll round our poor world, elevating, purifying, saving ! 
Blot from existence, were it possible, all the assodationa 
which are linked with Bethlehem, the birth-place of 
the Saviour, and what a blank would myriads feel I 
Our poor world would becotaie poorer stilL It would 
be like a moral chaos still more than it is. 

On such a spot, however, the traveller will scarcely be 
abk to restrain hi^ wonder at the sad transmutation 



B£THL£H£X. I9t 

whieh the religion of Jesus, as described in the Bible, 
has here undergone at the hands of men. In its native 
state it is simple, pure, majestic ; as it is oormpted by 
men, it is meretricious, gaudy, and sensuous. A few 
vital points or doctrines, essential asabasis for truth, and 
then a superstructure of holiness like that of God — 
behold the scriptural system. But forms, rites, super- 
stitions, legends, sacraments added to sacraments, till 
there are seven instead of the simple two— these fona 
the corrupt creed which man has perversely imposed 
on himself, or substituted for the truth of God. It is 
no longer that truth that forms our only guide, it is such 
a fable as that of Anthony preaching to the fishes; ot 
Dennis, after he was beheaded, carrying his head under 
his arm as if nothing strange had happened ; or a third 
monk transforming his cloak into a boat, and sailing 
in it over the sea. These, and things like these, are 
literally the daily food of the souls of Bomish priests ; 
and nowhere are such legends so rife as in this Holy 
Land— nay, in this city, a centre of truth and of salva- 
tion. Papist and Mohammedan vie in their traditions. 
The Greek competes with both, and the Christian, as 
distinct from all the three, with the word of God for 
his only guide, is often compelled to sigh forth the com- 
plaint—'' Alas for man if these fables were religion 1" 

This is one of the priceless benefits derived by a be- 
liever as he firequents such scenes as this. It is ple»* 
sant to wander by the Jordan and mournfully tracethe 
ruins which skirt it It is solemn to roam along the 
shores of the Dead Sea, and meditate on the sights whieh 
have been witnessed, or the crimes which havebeen com- 



192 BETHLEHEM. 

Qiitted there. The capital and its enyirons, Beersheba 
and Mamre, the sea coaBt from Gaza to Beyrout, the 
lonely Banias, the fertile though often dreary Eedraelon, 
hare all their lessons, their associations, and their 
charms. But after all, it is truth, the truth of God 
that must be ascendant, if man is to be happy mihe 
Holy Land or any spot on eartk Mar that truth, as 
superstition does, and you put poison in the wells ; but 
augment the power of truth, and you impart new vital 
force to man. Now this is done in Palestine in a hun- 
dred ways ; it is done remarkably at Bethlehem, the 
birth-place of the Redeemer, and happy is that man 
who learns, amid all that is solemn and hoary there, 
more and more to prize the simple truth of God. It 
may be obscured, it may seem even to be entombed, but 
it is not dead,— at the most it only sleeps. 

** Hall, Land of Prophecj, whose glorious light 
Streams on s tide that shall for erer flow, 
Faith, robed with beanty, happiness, and might, 
sits <m its waters, that like crystal glow. 
On to the yawning chasm of the tomb 
The treasured argosies of ages sweep ; — 
For erer buried in its awftil womb 
Shall none emerge on life's eternal deepf 

Mortal! thy being's tide no ebbing knows. . • . ** 

and, animated by that conviction, we are to wait in 
faith till the truth shall triumph. 

The inhabitants of modem Bethlehem are described as 
restless and ungovernable, and ever ready to break forth 
into feuds among themselves or with their neighbours, 
like the Scottish clans of former years. The oppression 
of the Moslem has much to do with this. Rigorous 
power 'iiay compel men to succumb, but it cannot 



BETHLEHEM. 193 

make enemieB friendB ; and from time to time Betb- 
lehem has witnessed the flash and outbreak of imperi- 
ous passion. Tet when the word of God has free 
course among the children of men, the watchword 
given upon these plains from heaven on the night of 
the nativity, or ** Peace on earth," will be turned into a 
reality at Bethlehem, and everywhere besides. 

It were wrong to turn away from this city without 
recalling the slaughter which Herod called the Great 
perpetrated there, in the hope of destroying the youth- 
ful Redeemer. It would not be easy to picture the 
woe, the intensified agony, to which that butchery gave 
rise, especially among Oriental mothers, whose affec- 
tions are as fieiy as their skies. True, infidelity on 
the one hand, through its high-priest, Voltaire, has 
attempted to discredit the atrocity ; and superstition 
on the other, by means of Papal legends and Papal 
festivals, has obscured these events in another form ; 
but the simple narrative of Scripture presents the scene 
in all its horrors. The character and doings of Herod 
in other respects, would amply bear out the inspired 
accounts, did they require such corroboration. He was 
fit for any deed, however atrocious, and his suspicion 
lest any rival to the throne of Judah should arise 
caused him repeatedly to dip his hands in blood. 
Though eighteen centuries and more have rolled away, 
it is not difficult for the traveller to fancy that he still 
hears the shrieks of those mothers, or sees the streets 
red with the blood of their little ones. Perhaps he 
would gladly disbelieve the narrative did it occur else- 
where than in the Scriptures, it is so degrading to the 

N 



194 THK OHUBOR OF THB NATIVITT. 

nature which we bear in common with Herod. He 
was, however, nearly an unpreoedented eombinatiim of 
the lion, the tiger, and the wolf. Bloodshed was hia 
business, especially the blood of his own kindred. He 
was the. Satan, of this Edei^, the arch-agent of him who 
was a mi^derer from the beginning. 

CSE CSUBCB QV THB VATnTITT, BETHUEHEX. 

The town of Bethlehem slopes oastward abng the 
eminence on which it stands, and the chief stmcture 
there is the Church of the Nativity, alleged to be built 
over the a^t where the Saviour was bom. It is 
situated at the eastern extremity of the town, on the 
verge of a precipice which overhangs the valley below. 
It is enclosed within the walls of a convent, and sug- 
gests the idea of a fortress rather than of a residenoe 
for cloistered monks. The fabric is said to haye been 
first erected by Helena, whose passion for such works 
must have been prodigious, if all legends be true. The 
Greeks, Latins, and Armenians are found worahipping 
here together, but not in harmony. One church has 
to serve for all, for rival claims in such a place would 
be too bold an impudence ; but it is divided into com* 
partments, so that each sect may occupy its own 
portion, — ^the transept, or a bit of it^ for one, the choir 
for another, and so of the other sections of the fabric 
The seamless robe is thus torn in shreds at the very 
9pot where he who wove it himself, and wove it for his 
people, is alleged to have been bom. 

Sceptical as the traveller may be as to the Ic^nds 



I THE CHUBCH OF THK NATIYITr. 19ft 

connected with this place, he inll, perhaps, not be in* 
disposed to surrender himself, if he can, to the sugges- 
tions which should rise unbidden near the Saviour's 
birth-place. The church is enriched with costly 
marbles, with more costly lamps, gifted in some cases 
by royalty, and some of them of great age and value. 
The pictures are faded and dim ; the pavement is worn 
by the feet, the knees, the very kisses of many genera* 
tions of devotees ; and tiiough much that is gaudy and 
tasteless may here meet the eye, and much that is 
truthless the ear, yet, as it was assuredly near this that 
Jesus was borSi one's soul would rejoice at the thought 
that J^e were worshipped here in spirit and in truth. 
But with these piles of superstition^ who can believe 
' that that is common 1 Some portions of the edifice 

are hastening to decay, and unless some distant wealth 
be devoted to the repair, the church where at least one 
king was crowned, and where myriads of devotees have 
adored, wiU crumble into ruins. 

In the interior of the church the visitor is led to a 
spot which is deemed the holiest of all, the Grotto of 
the Nativity. It is approached by a stair, which is 
partially concealed ; and the lamps, which are ever burn- 
ing there, like the Vestal fires of Borne or the sacred fire 
of the Persians, shed that dim, religious light, which 
superstition loves to affect, over the spot where the Be- 
deemer is said to have been bom. On the east side of 
the grotto, altars are erected— rival places of worship— for 
the two prevailing sects, the Greek and the Boman. On 
one of these an inscription in Latin, and in letters said 
to be of gold, tells that, '* Here Jesus Christ was born 



1 96 TEE CHUKCH OF THB NATIVITY. 

of the Yirgin Mary." The inscription is on a star in 
mlyer, inserted into the altar ; and within the cave are 
collected as many sacred places as it is possible even 
for superstition to compress into such a space. The 
manger, an " altar of the Magi," where their gifts, we 
suppose, were presented, and similar figments, are there ; 
and if the traveller would put his own credulity to the 
test, never can a better opportimity occur. If he prefers 
the truth, we fear that he must seek it elsewhere than 
in the Church of the Nativity or the grotto below it 

But the whole is an imposture, and why hesitate to 
declare it so I* The descent by that stair into that cave, 
and the whole settings of the place, proclaim that this 
could not be the stable where the Most High in lowli- 
ness appeared ; and we reject the whole as a legendary 
fiction. Passing from the tales of the monks, however, 
we can here regoioe in the sure conviction that, as 
the Bethlehem of our day is doubtless that of Christ's, 
an arrow-flight at the most would measure our distance 
from the spot where the Lord lay in the manger, as he 
lay three and thirty years thereafter in his tomb at 
Jerusalem. In the grotto, so garish as to seem gro- 
tesque, we may refuse to recognise the stable of an 
Eastern khan, and all the stories about it may only 
augment our unbelief But not far from this spot, at 
the furthest, Mary brought forth her first-born son ; and 
I can now return to Jerusalem, or my home (the travel* 

* ** I like to feel aasared that the Church of the Annnnciation (at 
Nazareth), the cave, the kitchen of Mary, the workshop of Joseph, the 
dSning-tabie of oar Lord, .... the tynagogue where he read the prophet 
laaiah, and the prectpice, .... a* now shown, are all fkboloos and apocry. 
phaL**— 27to Land and the Book, 



THE GHXJBCH OF THE NATIVITY. 197 

ler may say), with a deeper meaning than ever attached 
to the words, " Unto you is Lorn, .... in the city of 
David, a Saviour who is Christ the Lord." I have 
stood near the fountain-head of mortal hope, the spot 
where the Deliverer who was to come out of 2iion 
appeared, with a new star for his harbinger, and the 
Magi for his first adorers. We may not admire the 
deportment of the modem Bethlehemites, nearly all 
reputed Christians ; but curiosity, at least, will prompt 
us to carry away some of their handiwork, as memorials 
of the place, in carved beads, models of the Holy Sepul- 
chre, and similar articles, carved in olive wood, on the 
fruit of the palm, in mother of pearl, and other sub- 
stances, manufactured by the people for the pilgrims. 
We may discard the puerilities of tradition ; but, as we 
gaze on the town, the hills, and the valleys, amid which 
the Saviour was bom, the joy unutterable wells up in 
a believer's souL These scenes have been lit up by a 
heavenly radiance ; they have echoed a heavenly song 
(Luke iL 8-14), and should not the heart of the travel* 
ler re-echo it back to heaven 1 

And it is well that at Bethlehem, and elsewhere, 
superstition has supplied an antidote so potent against 
our tendencies to doat on holy places, or holy things, 
and to dream that emotions felt there are in their nature 
spiritual or tme religion. No doubt, the sight of such 
places may help to detach us from earthly influences, 
and prepare us to approach that circle within which 
God's children dwell, just as music may soothe, or 
poetry elevate the mind, and so make the entrance 
pf truth more easy, than when the soul is agitated by 



198 THE CHXmCH OF THE NATIVITT. 

the tempest of passion. Bat just as neither music nor' 
poetry by itself can dtfaer make us Christians or keep 
us so, all the holy places are worthless in themselres 
to make a sinful creature holy. That is the work of 
the Spirit alone, as surely as redemption and atonement 
formed the work of the Son, and on that account the 
traveller who is wise unto salvation will join trembling 
with his joy at Bethlehem, at Jerusalem, and a thousand 
other places, lest he become the dupe of his own heart, 
or hold a sensuous, not a spiritual creed. There is a bril- 
liant lamp burning by an altar. They tell me ifc has not 
been extinguished for centuries ; even though I grant that 
the tale is true, can it either convert or edify my soul 9 

—That gem, some would assure me, points out the 
very spot where Jesus was bora. Suppose the legend 
to be as certainly true as it is probably false, could that 
teach me to set my affections on things above 9 

—These relics, I am assured by that gross and sen- 
suous monk, are all genuine remains of Joseph or 
Mary,or some other saints. Granted. But do they make 
my soul more holy, my heart more pure, and myself^ 
therefore, more fit to see Godf To say so were to 
betray an utter ignorance of the religion of Jesus. 
That his Spirit must teach, or it is never learned, and 
yet such basdess hopes are the stones instead of bread, 
the serpent instead of a fish, which superstition gives to 
its votaries. A Mohammedan pacha lately said, after 
witnesstng the Protestant worship of Jerusalem : '' I 
could worship here— there are no images ;" and they 
must be swept away, or utterly ignored, ere the worship 
of Qod ''in spirit and in truth," as he dosires it to be. 



aOLOMOlfs POOLS AND GABDKN& 19£R 

can be witnessed in Fialestine, in Pari% in London, or 
where yon, my reader, now read. 

It is well known that Jerome, a reputed saint, but a 
harsh and an angry controrersialist, though a learned 
man, took up his abode at Bethlehem, after wandering 
in many lands, some 1400 years ago. There he studied 
the Hebrew tongue, and translated the Old Testament 
from it into Latin. Hib study and abode was a grotto, 
and '' Jeromels cell" is accordingly shown to this day. He 
is known to have resided here for more than thirty years, 
and his name is a tower of strength to the lover of the 
legendary, as distinct from the historical and the true. 
More pleasant is it to linger on that unerring tradition 
which has reached us, a portion of the records of truth, 
which tdls us of the heroic deeds of David's three 
heroes, who hastened, unbidden, to bring him a draught 
from his favourite well at Bethlehem, but which he 
would not taste, because it was procured at the risk of 
life on his account (2 Sam. xziiL) How he was knit 
to his adherents, and they to him, need not be told 
after an incident so touching. Chieftain and follower 
are equally to be admired in that event 



EXGUESION IX. 

BOLOMOV'S P00I8 AHD GABOEHB. 

As a eonldnuation of the previous Ezcorcdon to Beth- 
lehem, ''the house of bread," the traveller who has 
Reached it from Jerusalem almost invariably resorts to 



aOO 80L0M0N*S POOLS AND GABDKNSL 

these TeserYoirs, the work of one who was both* the 
wisest and among the most unwise of the sons of men. 

On the route from Jerasalem to this district of 
Palestine many traces of ancient aqueducts are seen. 
At one or two places they supply water for the region, 
as they convey it into the Holy Oity from this neigh- 
bourhoody which abounds in springs. For about an 
bourns journey southward from Bethlehem, on the 
Hebron road, the visitor proceeds along the water^ 
shed between the Mediterranean on the west, and the 
Dead Sea on the east Amid rocks and much sterility 
he reaches a deserted castle, and at a short distance 
from these, on a sloping ground, arrives at El-Burak, 
the Pools. They consist of three large reservoirs, partly 
excavated from the rock, partly built of square stones, 
and bearing marks of a high antiquity. They are 
placed one above the other on the slope, but not in a 
direct line, and are so arranged that the bottom of the 
second is higher than the surface of the lowest, and 
that of the third higher than the surface of the second. 
They are not always full-— or rather, they appear never 
to be so. Flights of steps lead down to the water, and 
the interior is covered with cement where it is re- 
quired. 

These Pools are worthy of the splendid monarch who 
is believed to have caused them to be formed ; but as 
it is impossible to convey a very correct idea of such 
works by mere words, the measurements of Dr. Robin- 
son are subjoined as at once most definite and most 
true. 

The lowest pool is 682 feet long, 207 feet wide at thft 



Solomon's pools and gardens. 201 

east end, and 148 at the west, while the depth at the 
east end is 50 feet ; and of this royal work it is but 
truth to say, as one has said, " when full of water, it 
would float the largest man-of-war that ever ploughed 
the ocean.** The middle pool is 423 feet long, 250 feet 
wide at the east end, and 160 at the west, its depth at 
the eastern extremity being 39 feet. The uppermost pool 
is 380 feet long, 236 feet wide at the east end, and 229 
at the west ; its depth is 25 feet. These figures may 
convey some idea of the size of these water stores, which 
are understood to be supplied from a concealed foun- 
tain, and so long ago as the days of Maundrell (1703), 
the subterranean vaults and chambers connected with 
the springs had been explored, and ascribed to Solomon 
the king. Subsequent investigations have shed addi- 
tional light on these vaults and fountains. The main 
chamber is about fifty feet long, and five and twenty 
wide. There the water from surrounding springs is 
collected, and thence it flows onwards to the pool 
Among these hidden structures the arch has been 
found, most probably as old as the days of Solomon, 
as it has also been in the substructions of the Temple 
at Jerusalem — ^thus disproving the theories of some as 
to the ignorance of the ancients concerning the arch in 
architecture. Whether the water-chamber which sup- 
plies the pools suggested to Solomon his emblem for the 
Church — " A spring shut up, a fountain sealed,*'— it is 
equally easy to suppose and difficult to deny.* 
But besides the Pools of Solomon, his gardens also 



* See Dr. Barclay In The OUg qfiht Chrtai King. 



. i 



fiOS 80L0H0K*S POOLS AND OARDEK& 

are believed to have been in ihii vicinity. At a abort 
Aietaaoe from the reiervoirs the visitor entera Wady 
Urtaa, and whether it be from the force of contrast, or 
from intrinsic charms^ it is alw&yn eidogLBed as one of 
aingnlar attractions. Host of the people there dwell in 
caves like the troglodytes of old«— indeed, many of the 
inhabitants of modem FaleBtine have only holes in the 
earth for their home. But fkr other scenes have been 
witneeaed in this vall^. In this neighbcmrhood, as 
we cannot but believe, was fonnd Etam, or Ethsm, 
where Solomon ** made him gardens and orchards, and 
planted trees of all kinds of fruits, and made pools of 
water, to water therewith the wood that bringeth forth 
trees.** The description, at once topographically and in 
iteelf, is so applicable to this neighbourhood, that it 
may be deemed a settled point Thither the sumptu* 
ous sovereign retired from time to time, perhaps to 
study his trees from the cedar that is in Lebanon to the 
hyssop on the wall Here, perhaps, he sought relief 
from the cares of state and of the mighty projects 
which he formed : and here he may have written some of 
his thousand proverbs,— -may we add, here he fo«nd 
tisie to repent of the unutterable foUy as wdl as sin of 
his dismal lapse into idolatry t The rills <^ that viei* 
nity still ^adden the travellw from the West, because 
they remind him of his own green island and moist 
cHme. Gkurdens and fields are still fertilised in Urtas 
by the streams which are th^e, and some men, who 
had not much poetry in th^ soul, have actually felt 
on inspiration on the spot We only add, what has been 
APticed as a strange conjunction, that some of the build- 



80L0M0K*S POOLS A.m> GARDENS. 203 

Ings constructed by Solomon in Wady Urtas, were re- 
paired or restored by Pontius Pilate. 

The name of Solomcm is deeply stamped on many a 
scene in the East It was a household word in Persia. 
It was familiar in the Great Desert in connection with 
Palmyra, or Tadmor in the wilderness, and much that is 
deemed wonderful or prodigious in those parts is linked 
with that prince as its author. And is he not one of 
the most perfect riddles which the Scriptures present to 
our study? To-day, displaying a knowledge more than 
earthly ; to-morrow, he perpetrates follies almost more 
than man's. At one time, a devout worshipper of 
Jehovah ; at another, he heaps god upon god at the 
bidding of some heathen wife. Now, he is busy col- 
lecting or composing some of the safest utterances of 
wisdom ; anon he commits sins such as might proclaim 
him to be a moral maniac At one period, he rules his 
kingdom in the singular fear of God ; at another, he 
seems an oriental sensualist— the keeper of a harem, 
and little more. With a wisdom far in advance of his 
age, he erects Tadmor as an entrepdt between the East 
and the West— but at the same time yields to weak* 
nesses which are opprobrious. Bich beyond oomputa^ 
tion, and ruling unchallenged over a country ranging 
from the river of I^ypt to the banks of the Euphrates; 
he yet submitted to be the victim of himself. Such 
was Solomon, — a monument of grace while he " walked 
not in the counsd of the ungodty, nor stood in the way 
of sinners, nor sat in the seat of the scornful,'* but un- 
stable as water when he trusted in his own heart, and 
became a fooL What is man« when the wisest thus 



204 aOLOMON*S POOLS AND OABDEN& 

sank 80 far 9 Surely of all the lessons in^hich can be 
learned in Palestine, that which is forced on our notice 
beside the Pools of Solomon, or at the Mount of 
Offence already mentioned, is one of the most profit- 
able, though it be also one of the most humbling. He 
had gardens such as were unmatched in the East. In 
spite of aU the devastations which have swept over 
them, the land where those gardens stood can still pro- 
duce five crops every year ; and yet, while nature was 
here also pouring its profusion into the lap of man, 
Solomon was ingloriously forgetting Him who gave it 
alL The dark idolatries of that alienated king hang 
like a cloud, not merely over his memory, but over 
his land. 

To roam over this district is to grow familiar with 
many scenes well known in Jewish history. Proceed- 
ing to the south, a journey of a few miles brings us to 
Hebron. Much further on is Beersheba, with its 
almost primeval memories, and then the desert stretch- 
ing away to the Red Sea, and to Hgypt. Or nearer at 
hand is the hill-country of Judah, wild, rugged, and 
sterile. Yonder is the Frank Mountain, or Beth-Hac- 
cerem as it is now believed to be, a signal tower in 
ancient times for nation after nation, from the early in- 
habitants of the land, down to the days of the bloody 
Herod, who had a palace there, and from his times to 
those of the crusades, where Turk and Christian closed 
in deadly struggle for the last time. But enough. We 
return to Jerusalem, and pass over the legendary or his- 
torical spots which environ it on the south, laden with 
^ cpnviction which is a. joy for ever : We have seen 



THE FLOBA OF THE HOLT LAND. 205 

Bethlehem ; not the tawdry, and oq the whole, obtru- 
sive Church of the Nativity, but the earth, the sky, the 
hills and valleys, amid which the Eedeemer of the lost 
was bom. 



THE FLORA AND THE FAUNA OF THE HOLT USD. 

L— THE FLORA. 

WiNTEE in Jerusalem is so mild that fruits and 
flowers which would scarcely grow in our northern 
clime at all, ripen there without any shelter or pro- 
tection. Hoarfrost is known, and snow does fall at 
times ; but the effects are so transient that neither 
fruits nor vegetables perceptibly suffer, — oranges, dates, 
lemons, figs, pomegranates, almonds, apricots, vines, 
and other species of fruit, grow throughout the winter 
without screen or defence, in the neighbourhood of the 
capital 

We have just seen that the spot believed to have 
been of old the gardens of Solomon, is still productive 
beyond most others in the land. The rocks which 
environ the place render it, in some sort, a hot-house, 
and there all the fruits just mentioned grow in rank 
and luscious profusion. The palm, indeed, has nearly 
disappeared, and the few trees of that kind which are 
found here and there are rather like the last *^ flowers 
of the forest," than aught that betokens increase or 
richnesa But wherever there is anything like culture 



200 THBFLOIU 

bestowed, it is muiifest to the moefc casual obaerFer 
that that is all that is needed to restore to "MMsum 
not a little of its former fertility. The countiy, tof 
example, which still carries such an oak as the reputed 
one of Abraham, near Hebron—^ halvia^ or evergreen 
oak, twenty-six feet in girth at the ground, and with 
branches which cover a space ninety-three feet in dia- 
meter, oannot be an impoverished land. We know that 
the Mount of Olives once bore the palm in abundance, 
else whence did the crowd obtun their palm branches 
when Jesus entered Jerusalem, and they shouted 
Hosannat And not less certain lis it, that by proper 
care the palm might be restored. At all events, were the 
olive, the fig, the mulbeny, and other trees, which now 
grow on Olivet, duly and industriously tended, the 
Mount might appear in its green beauty, as of old—it 
might ''drop fatness" on the people once mora 

Besides oranges and lemons, citrons abound in Jeru- 
salem and the neighbourhood. Indeed, so abund- 
ant are they that their price is almost nominal, and 
when to these we add the more common productions 
of the soil, we can understand, how the poverty- 
stricken and oppressed fellahin can wring a scanty 
subsistence even from the most unpromising soiL 
There are places around Jerusalem utterly unfit for 
bearing com, owing to the rocky nature of the soil ; 
but that often renders them just the more suitable 
for some other productions ; and from the olive grove, 
outside the Damascus Gkite at Jerusalem, to the luxu- 
riant recess of Engedi, the orange groves around Joppa 
^nd elsewhere, or the Damascus mulberry at Hamleh^ 



OF THE HOLY ULND. SN)7 

we have at once all varieties of soil, and opportuni- 
ties for all kinds qf productions. Eyen the prickly 
pear yields a muoli-prized fruit in Palestine, while its 
spiny branches, grown to a huge sice, form an impene- 
trable defence for the more precious orchards and their 
productions. The thief cannot break through — the 
very fire does not consume such hedges. 

In different places around Jerusalem and elsewhere, 
attempts have been made to introduce a better style of 
culture than the slovenly Moslem has as yet adopted] 
and everywhere, we read, with succesa, Other causes 
may lead to disappointment in such undertakings, but 
not the climate or the soil ; and the only exception to the 
success of these experiments is in regard to the apple. 
IThe orange groves of Joppa are about the richest in the 
world— literally so— for they yield the proprietor a dear 
profit of a tenth on all his investments. The air la 
loaded with the mingled odours of orange, lemon, apple, 
apricot, quince, plum, and China trees in blossom. Add 
to this the fertility of some even of the sandy plains, 
pronounced by an American* equal to the very best 
land in the Valley of the Mississippi ; and aU these 
things, seen after forty centuries of culture, make this 
wonder-land more wonderful stilL 

Among minor productions, radishes, the lettuce, and, 
similar esculents, are rife. Cabbages, cauliflower, beans, 
celery, parsley, and herbs of that class are abundant ; 
and when we remember that much of the land, miser-, 
ably as it is tilled, yields three crops each year, and 

• ]>r. Tliompion. 



208 THE FLOBA 

some spots nearly twice that number, it is easy to see 
how copious the supply might become had Palestine a 
generous government to encourage, or even to defend 
an industrious and a well -conditioned people in the 
possession of their own. At present it has neither of 
these. It is consequently like a fallow field, amid all 
its affluent productiveness, compared with what it 
would become were the tillage worthy of the climate. 

When we speak of the flora proper, meaning thereby 
just flowers, the list must be long that would exhaust 
them alL These ^ silent hymns," for example, the lily 
of which Jesus spoke, at certain seajsons, and in some 
neighbourhoods, give exquisite beauty to the scene, as 
may at once be belieived when we learn that there is 
one little plant, as common as a weed, which bears five 
or six different kinds of flowers. One traveller speaks 
of ''ten thousand thousand flowers,** as spread out 
before him in a plaia near Csesarea, and when he passed 
along the Wady Dalia, near Oarmel, in the month of 
February, ''it was all glowing and blushing with an 
infinite number and variety of flowers, sending up 
incense to the skies, and offering their honeyed cups to 
millions of bees."* The resurrection flower is one of 
the most peculiar of all the productions of Palestine, 
and the mandrake, which, fable tells us, shrieks when 
torn from the earth — 

** Till living mortals, hearing it, run mad,** 

is common, and still produces medicinal effects, though 

* The roM of Shaxx>n and the lUy are, like much besides, contested. 
Some reckon the mallow thitt rose; some promote the narcissos to that 
honour} some the asphodel ; some the lily ItselC 



OF THE HOLT LAKD. 209 

not those which ignorance assigns to it. In February, 
hyacinths, daffodils, tuKps, ranunculuses, lilies, the nar- 
cissus, geraniums, poppies, anemones, and daisies, deco- 
rate many a dell or plain. Indeed, wherever there is 
moisture, there are flowers, so that " the stars of earth " 
here rival those of the sky in number. In March, sage, 
thyme, and similar herbs, diffuse their odours, while the 
fruit-bearing trees now, at the latest, spread forth all 
the glories of their foliage and blossoms,-^#(^ almond 
tree and others much earlier in the season. But hear 
one who has well described all that need be said in 
such a case.* April, according to this author, produces 
the white mulberry, artichokes, peas, beans, onions, 
cucumbers, lettuce, com, the Arab potato, and a vege- 
table somewhat like the turnip, with lavender, rose- 
mary, and the supposed rose of Sharon. In May, 
cucumbers continue, with tomatoes, onions, potatoes, 
com, a species of small apple ; and, late in the month, 
musk melons, water melons, walnuts, black-berries, the 
mulberry flg, and other fruits. In June, there is an 
abundance of cherries, figs, plums, damascenes, quinces, 
olives, almonds, bananas, pomegranates, plantains, 
grapes, the egg-plant, liquorice root, dandelion, and 
henna. In July there are peaches, grapes, pears, necta- 
rines, melons, plums, potatoes, egg plant, prickly pear, 
Indian flg, pumpkins, dates, and damascenes. In August 
a still greater variety of fruits and vegetables are dis- 
played ; but in September there is a slight decrease. 
In that month cotton and hemp rapidly ripen, and the 

* Uodji in Syria. 



£10 THE VLOBA. 

Arab oocn, dount, millet, and castor^ plant, wMcii 
here grows to a tree, are found in -^exdj, ligyptian 
niaise is alao brought to Biarket Bat eren this is by no 
meaDS a complete list of the vaiieties of Dniits^ vege- 
tables, medicinal plants, and fbwers, which abound at 
their difGoient seasons. ''The variety," this Badiin^ySf 
''is almost endless. Indeed, so abundant are vegetables 
that little meat is consumed, both from choice and 
necessity.'' 

Now, this goodly array amply attests the capabiliiy 
'Of the soil and the climate of the H<dy Land for an 
almost fabulous fertility, were right means employed to 
educe it Atsome places the water melon grows on mere 
sand hills, at once delicious, and exuberant in juioe, — 
cne of the richest physical gifts of the only good One 
to arid Palestine. Kear the coast,mi the plain of Sharon, 
a thousand boat-loads of this juiqy melon are annually 
sent to market from places which are mere sand-heaps. 
The leaf is supposed to suck in tiiie dew as the root the 
moisture. We have heard already of the cane-brakea 
by the Dead Sea»— of the oleanders which bloom there, 
of the matted profusion of vc^getation at some places 
along the margin of the Jordan ; and when all this is 
remembered, in connection with the indescribable mis- 
mans^ement and oppression which reign in the land, 
we need not hesitate to aver that a thousand places in 
Palestine could easily be made prolific as a garden. 
" Wheat, wheat, a very ocean of wheat/' is a brief 
description of some of its plains. Van de Yelde once 
pitched his tent on a parched and an arid spot. It 
rained — and the vegetation rushed into vigour all around. 



THS FAUNA. 211 

till hk tent stakes were i^eedily covered by the profo- 
sion. It might be even bo, in many districte of the 
Jand, with rich productions, were there motives &r 
effecting such a sti^ of things, or protecstion when it 
was effected. But neither of these is likely to be the 
case tiU the word of Qod have free oonrse there, with 
all its elevating, hnmaniring, and wisdcw-i^viBg infiu* 
ence, alike to the rulers and tibe rukd. 

IL— XHE IMJVJl 

It win easily be bdieved that the savage rocks which 
frown over sach places as Mar Saba» or the wadies 
wMeh descend from the monntams east of the Jordan 
to that river, are tenanted by other than hnnaan iiri^a- 
latants. And in truth, though no lion may now be 
roused, as of old, by the swellings of Jordan, and 
though 8(Hne other animals have disaj^ieared in conse- 
quence of the pro3dmity oi man, there ai« still savage 
beasts not a few, and many birds both of piey and of 
song within the Holy Land. Indeed, if the tcaveller 
be curious in zoology, much may be found there to 
gratify his taste. A species of leopard,"^ &» hyena, the 
wild boar, the panther, the wolf, the bear, the jackal, 
the fox, the gazelle, the coney, and others, are still 
found within its borders. Some of the de^ ravines, 
for oample the Jabbok and the Amon on the east, 
and still more extensively, the banks of the Leontes and 
Orontes in the north, afford both lairs and prey for such 

* ** nynhlm, ovr gnlde^ had sbot a large leopard among its mlns (thoM 
of Cana) only a week previous to oar Tisit • He had been tanntfng wild 
boar in Wadj Jeftt**— 2%e Land and ffie iZool: 



tl8 TH£ FAUNA 

animals as require them. The pelican also finds a 
congenial solitude by the lake of Tiberias, or on the 
banks of the Jordan. The vulture is abundant ; while 
in Gilead, among its grores, around Bamleh, and its 
olive or orange orchards, as well as in many other places 
of the uicient Sharon, the air is vocal with the songs of 
birds, of which the bulbul is the queen. Excited, per- 
haps, by the scene, a dose observer has said of daybreak 
on the lake of Qennesaret,— '* At first it was intensely 
dark, but by-and-by it began to soften low down, and 
far to the north. Then suddenly the note of a lark 
rang out, silvery and joyous, as if from the midst of the 
stars. In rapid succession, bird after bird rose up ... r 
until the whole 'marble vault of heaven' was vocal 
with invisible choristers." Or, turning from singing 
birds, myriads of sparrows, followed by many hawks, 
appear at some places, and rock doves are often so 
numerous that they give a name to the place which 
they frequent Then Hermon sends forth its eagles : 
the marshes about Lake Huleh are the retreat of flocks 
of waterfowl, as well as of the buffalo ; indeed, the 
lonely and deserted country, where it is unsafe for man 
to dwell except as a brigand ready for battle, or a 
beggar whom no man need trouble, is a very nursery 
for animals solitary or savage, and they accordingly 
abound. Some are found there which have almost 
become unknown elsewhere. 

The coney, for instance, is one of these. The animal 
known by that name in Scripture (Prov. xxx. 26), and 
long confounded with the rabbit, has been seen among 
the rocks above Mar Saba. It is a shy and timor- * 



OF THB HOLY LAIOX 813 

otuB creature, and needs the defence of solitude and the 
strength of the rocks. It finds both in abundance here, 
and hence it is not absolutely uncommon in the land. 
No attempt, however, need be made to enumerate the 
fauna of Judea. Regarding the scriptural names of 
animals, as well as of plants, and herbs, and flowers, 
and trees, the differences of opinion are manifold. But 
passing by these, and looking only at what is patent to 
all, we may well ask, Is there a kingdom in the world 
so small, yet so vast, — so insignificant, yet so mighty, — 
so degraded, yet so beloved,— so peeled and blighted, 
yet so beautiful ) Not Switzerland, with all its heroic 
memories and unutterable physical grandeur,— not even 
Britain, with her power which girdles the world, — can 
ever influence mankind as this strip along the west bank 
of the Jordan, and round about Jerusalem, has done and 
will do. The wreck of its former occupants, still floating 
about our world, and trusting to find a haven in Palestine 
after all, is a perpetual monument, a proof that God is 
true. Their country is not less so. In every valley 
and on every height, in the depths of its seas and the 
recesses of its ravines, proof after proof is found that 
Qod has been there. Oh, how numerous are such foot- 
prints of the Creator I If ^ the whole creation be groan- 
ing and travailing in pain together until now ** because 
of sin, the groans and the travail of F^estine have 
been the loudest and the sorest. But since He who 
chose it for his own, and called it Jehovah's land, has 
there proved that he is true to his threats, not less true 
will he be found to his promises ; and in that hope, tiiey 
who love Zion may possess their souls in patienoe. 



SI4 THE GEDBABS8. 



Aaaoeoimt of Jerusalem would be inoompleto indeed 
without some reference to these memorable expeditions. 
They enable us to estimate in a remarkaUe way ita in- 
fluence upon the minds of men. The city of the Great 
King may be trodden down by the Gentiles. AU its 
glories may seem to have departed, and theabominati<m 
of desolation may reign in the holy place. But even in 
that dilapidated state, Jerusalem continues the centre 
of myriads of hearts^it wields an influence over the 
destinies oi men which reminds us of some of the f orth- 
puttings of Omnipotence. To speak of it as acting like 
a charm or a spell upon the hearts of men, is to say too 
littia It can rouse their passions ; it can animate their 
hopes; it can attract and keep hold of their affections 
in spite of ten thousand hindrances ; it is more like a 
personal possession to uncounted millions throughout 
the world, than anything else which is not actually 
man*8 own can be. 

Witness the Crusades. It had become common for 
superstitious crowds to resort as pilgrims to Jerusa- 
lem and the Holy Land from all comers of Ohristen- 
dom. Such a pilgrimage was deemed b^ond all price 
meritorious ; the man who had made it was held to be 
peculiarly holy, and a visit to the earthly Jerusalem, all 
ruined and down-trodden as it was, seemed only a little 
less saered than a visit to the Jerusalem that is above 
would have been. " The g^rioos gospel of the blessed 
'^'* was then bni little known^ Mortal merit was 



THE C&T78ADE& 215 

put in the place of the finisbed work of Clulst ; and 
men hurried away in thousands to secure the pardon 
of their sins amid exciting or romantic adventures. 
Now, during these pilgrimages, visitors from Europe 
saw how the sacred city was defiled. They could not but 
nc^iee how Christians were there oppressed by the 
Saracens and Turks. Not a few of the pilgrims were 
murdered— very many of them were robbed— and all 
were exposed to indignity and contempt Eetuming 
to their own lands, they spread their accounts of these 
things; and there gradually arose in the minds of 
Western men a determination to attempt to free Jeru- 
salem from its deep dishonour, and the Christians there 
from oppression or from death. The Western king- 
doms rang with the outcry of outraged men; and like 
a gathering storm, or a rising flood, it increased in vio- 
lence and depth till the over-mastering passicm threw 
hundreds of thousands into Syria and Palestine from 
all the nations of the West Such was the power of 
Jerusalem and its associations* 

It was in the year 1096 that the first Crusade took 
place. Peter Guatier, called the Hermit, a native of 
Amiens in Hcardy, had been at Jerusalem, and, like 
many more, had suffered there. On his return to 
Europe, he b^gan to rouse men to some sense of the in- 
dignities borne by their fellow-religionists in the Holy 
Land. Armies were needed to rescue them, but armies 
could then be raised by priestly authority. The reigning 
Pope, Urban II, called a Council at Piacenza, where 
four thousand churchmen and thirty thousand laymen 
assembled, and determined to rescue Jerusalem from 



216 THE CRTTSADEa. 

the hands of the MoBlem. The result of that confer- 
ence, and of another held at Clermont, was to send first 
a mob rather than an army of three hundred thousand 
men towards the Holy Land, most of whom perished 
by the way. They were followed by an army of seyen 
hundred thousand, roused to a zeal that was fiery, by 
the bold harani^ues of Peter, and the stimulants applied 
by the Pope and thousands of his prelates, princes, and 
nobles. It seemed as if there were but one city in the 
world worth caring for, and that city was Jerusalem, — 
one spot on aU the earth that was sacred, and that was 
the spot where the Saviour of the lost was alleged to 
have been crucified and entombed. Men of all classes 
hastened to enlist in the sacred struggla Even women 
in disguise entered the service ; and though some of 
the crimes committed by these ardent hordes were such 
as should not once be named, death in the cause of the 
Crusades was reckoned equivalent to heaven. 

Men resolved to die in sight of Jerusalem if they could 
do no more. Robert, Duke of Normandy; Robert, Earl 
of Flanders ; Raymond, Earl of Toulouse ; Godefroy 
of Bouillon, Duke of Lorraine, with his brothers, Bald- 
win and Eustace, and a crowd of other dignitaries, 
pressed on, as they hoped, to deliver the reputed 
sepulchre of the Saviour from infidel hands. Edessa 
was taken in 1097 ; Antioch in 109a In 1099 they 
advanced to Jerusalem, but with an army reduced by 
disease, slaughter, and other causes, to the twentieth 
part of their original number, and after a siege of forty 
days, they took the sacred city by storm. Godefroy 
was now raised to the rank of king of Jerusalem. His 



THE CBXTSADES. 2l7 

power seemed to be consolidated by the great victory 
of Askelon ; but feuds soon arose, and, meanwhile, many 
returned to Europe under the impression that the grand 
object of the Orusade was permanently accomplished. 

But a second Crusade was needed, and in 1146 mul- 
titudes proceeded to Palestine, headed by the Emperor 
Conrad III., and Louis VIL, king of France. Their 
army consisted of three hundred thousand men ; and 
once more the roads leading to Palestine were drenched 
with blood, as along their dreaiy tracks the skeletons 
of former crusaders lay bleaching, unburied, and un- 
heeded. Defeat and disaster awaited those myriads, 
loonium and Damascus saw the infidel triumphant ; 
and after defeating Guy of Lusignan, who was the king 
of Jerusalem, the Sultan once more entered the Holy 
City as its lord in right of conquest, in the year 
1187. His victory at the Horns of Hattin near the 
Sea of Galilee laid all the land at his feet 

A third Crusade was consequently planned. Jerusa- 
lem was too sacred, and men's hearts and sympathies 
were too closely knit to it, lightly to forego the cherished 
thought of making it Christian. A million of men 
from the West might already have perished in the at- 
tempt to gain or to keep the city, but their untold suf- 
ferings—their death or bondage— their bleaching bones 
and blighted hopes were all forgotten under the force 
of that impetuous passion which drove hundreds of 
thousands more to imperil nations by depopulation, 
for the sake of a city which was more than a home 
to each and to alL One year after Saladin had wrested 
Jerusalem from the Crusaders— that is, in 1188— the 



218 THS OBUBADES. 

third Cnuade was in motioiL The Emperor Frederick 
Barbaroflsa was at the head of this ezpeditioii ; and 
prinoes, dukes, prelates, barcms, crowded in great num- 
bers around him. But disaster was again eneoimtered. 
The arrival of Philip IL of France, and Richard I. of 
Engkuid for a time restored the cause of the eru8ader& 
But intestine divisions, discordant counsels, and a 
powerful enemy, now curbed or even qudled the West- 
em heroism, and once more the Crusade was a failure ; 
once more the regaining of Jerusalem, so fiercely strug- 
gled for, but in vain, cost the lives alike of the crowned 
and of the vassal, till their number was counted by 
hundreds of thousands. Such was man's passionate 
and untamable love for the Holy City. 

For even yet the ardour oi the West was not 
quenched. A fourth Crusade was undertaken in the 
year 1195. It was led by the Emperor Henry VL, and 
victory for a time seemed to favour the crusaders. 
They were, indeed, well advanced in securing ike grand 
object of their ambition— the capture and deliverance 
of Jerusalem. But the Emperor^s death compelled 
them to quit the Holy Land, and the infidels were con- 
sequently left in possession of the Holy City. Their 
tenure seemed protracted rather than hastaied by all 
that had occurred. 

After so many disappointments, it might have been 
supposed that Europe would be weary, or that it» ar- 
dour in the cause of Jerusalem would be cooled, if not 
quenched. Bat in the year 1198 Pope Innocent ILL 
proclaimed a fifth Crusade. The plague, however, cut 
off the flower and the strength of the army which 



ITHS GBU8AIMB& SIM 



f<»med it; and although some fsa wMm mse gained, 
this effiui wtm fartiier ibm ever from acoomplisliiiig 
the^gnmd object of the crusading passion. The infidel 
oonld now laugh the Western invaders to scorn. They 
irere no longer the resistless hordes that poured at first 
into the plams of Asia* Petty quarrels and personal 
ambition amply did the work of the Mohammedan sword; 
and the fifth Crusade was conspicuous mainly aa a 
failure. The crescent was still ascendant in Jerusalem 
and all the Land of Jehovah. 

But the sixth Crusade in 1228 put the crusaders in 
possession of Jerusalem once more. The Emperor 
Frederick made peace with the Sultan, and secured the 
city by treaty. It began, however, to be harassed by 
a new enemy, the Tartars ; and though an English 
Crusade, headed by Richard, Earl of Cornwall, broths 
of Henry IIL of England, arrived in the Holy Land, a 
peace was soon concluded, and these invaders re-em- 
barked for their homew 

Louis IX of France, or St. Louis, headed the seventh 
Ciiusada. It seemed impossible to wear out the zeal ol 
the Western devotees. For c^turies the love of Jeru- 
salem had reigned in their minds, and the leadership 
of such a chief as Louia was sure to rally crowds to his 
standard. But the enterprise was not successful The 
king was defeated and taken prisoner ; and instead oi 
the glory <^ aeonquest, he had to bear the disgrace of 
a ransom. The same king also headed the eighth 
and last Crusade, but he died of a contagious disease 
while prosecuting his enterprise ; and though other 
princes attempted to revive the cause now drooping^ 



220 THE CBU8ADES. 

this Crusade ended in defeat or die^grace. The popes of 
Borne from time to time attempted to restore the for- 
mer ardour. The years 1292, under Nicholas lY., and 
1311, under Clement V., witnessed such endeavours, 
but the efforts were now spasmodia The minds of men 
began to be turned to other objects than holy wars ; 
and Jerusalem has continued from that epoch to this 
under Mohammedan power. 

Now, no better mode can be adopted to manifest the 
more than spell-like power of the Holy City. Though 
superstition, in all these things, was only counterfeiting 
truth, and though multitudes of the crusaders proved 
by their atrocious conduct that they were ignorant of 
the religion of Him for whose land and sepulchre they 
contended to the death, their conduct and their strug* 
gles will tell to all generations how deep, how binding 
and resistless is the hold which Jerusalem takes and 
keeps of the mind of men. Blessed had it been for the 
crusading nullions, and for all ages since the time of 
the Crusades, had they been as devotedly bent upon 
securing the Jerusalem that is above, as upon getting 
possession of the ruins and the long desolations of the 
Jerusalem that is here below. There would have been 
no disappointment in that pursuit 

It will readily be supposed that the crusaders tended 
largely to waste and depopulate the fair region of Pales- 
tine. Once, again and again, the fiercest storms of war 
niged in Jerusalem and around it; but these it is no 
part of our present design to record. Enough to have 
indicated how the city called "The Holy" has in all 
ages been like a home to the hearts of millions. 



conclusion; 221 



COBfCLUSIOV. 



Such, then, is a glimpse of some of the retaarkable 
things to be noticed in Jerusalem, and in places not very 
remote from its neighbourhood. The Excursions might 
be indefinitely increased. Bethel might deserve a more 
detailed description. The site of Shiloh is not yet ex- 
actly ascertained. That of Ai is still disputed, though 
opinions are approximating upon these sulgects ; and 
while they are under acijudication, let the enter]»nsing 
visitor go and see, and contribute his share to the final 
adjustment During the past quarter of a century, 
perhaps hundreds of places have been identified which 
were unknown before. Every year the number of the un- 
discovered grows less ; and that noble volume, the Holy 
Land, stiU to some extent unread, lies open before us, 
at once inviting to research and promising to reward it 
with many a joy. Considering the volumes, elaborate 
or superficial, impressive or only meant as a pastime, 
which are published from year to year by travellers in 
the East, we might suppose that the land is now 
exhausted or nearly so. It is so, however, no more 
than its own prolific soil, or its own snow-fed Jordan. 
From the slopes of Lebanon and Jebel-es-Sheikh, to 
Bethlehem, and all '*the South country," there are 
scenes stiU waiting to be e^lored and to reward the 
explorer. Each new case of identification brings with 
it some new light to Scripture, and the wisest traveller 
will rejoice the most over that result, whether it be 
promoted by some disinterred city, or by the lonely lake. 



9S$ OONOLIJBXOK« 

No step, we say, can the trayeller take, along tlie 
land as it lies before him, without finding some new 
illnstration of his Bible, some fresh truth flashed mto 
his mindy some new folfihnent of pn^hecy, inviting 
and SQi^porting his faelie£ The woes under which the 
land is groaning, the down-tieddea condition of its 
present oocapants, the gaunt and savi^ men who Jive 
bjr plunder there, the Tshwadite relation whidi tribe 
bews to tribe, the wretched state of the leUahin,and 
the blank deq>air which has settled downuponmany 
hearts, all speak touching]/ to the trayeUer^s sooL 
When the English tongue is heard, the speaker is some- 
times asked, ^ When are you coming to take possession 
<^ this land)" and the meaning of the question is, that 
the men who are peeled and oppressed look to Britain 
to redress their wrongs. That is no doubt trusting to 
a broken reed, but it speaks of woe amoog the Pales- 
tine peasantry. Despairing of home help, they look 
•even to those whom they regard as infidels without a 
hope of paradise, as likely to rescue the land and its 
people from their sad degradation. 

And who can doubt that all the desired results would 
follow yet, were right means employed to rescue Pales- 
tine in the hi|^t sense 9 When an American once 
asked an Arab congregation whether Ihey would let 
him stay in Iheir country or send him away, were he 
disposed to settle among them as a teacher, '* With one 
voice they all answered, * We would take you on our 
head, we would take you into our houses^ we would 
give you land, we would give you bread, we would give 
you dates, we would give you sheep, we would give 



CONCLUfllOK. 223 

yoa Tfater, we would send our childcea to you, we 
would bring our people.*" And, no doubt, the peopU 
would keep the pr^Mniae. The rulers would interpose, 
but their interposition will not be for ever. That land 
of wonders is yet to bask in the brightness of the 
Sftviovir's nsiBg in some mysterious way ; and whUe 
praying that Israel may be gathered in, and Zion 
become a praise in the whole earth, acoordiag to tiie 
promise, he who loves the land will renew the old 
ooraplamt again and again, at the ai|^ of these dark 
desolations,—'^ O Lord, how long i" 

But is there anything in the land that can indicate a 
future restoralion % H(^)es gather around it ; hearts 
turn to it ThecMies are £brmed-*«ome would say, 
dreams are dreamt— abomt it, aH pointing to some 
anticipated future. Now, is there anything in the 
land of the boc^ which can shed light upon these 
hopes or is likely to realise these wishes ? 

In replymg, we might point again to its latentfertiJity, 
its exceeding productiveness wheiever water is found, 
and wherever cultureeven of a meagre kind is employed. 
^ It is, indeed, a somewhat remarkable fact that the 
ancient words which were used to characterise the 
country would still be accurately true, — ^ A land flow- 
ing with milk and honey.' The great flocks of sheep 
and goats that are on all the hills afford to the wander- 
ing tribes, and to the villagers, their chief support in 
ld>en, or soured milk, which they eat morning and 
evening ; while wild-flowers, clinging in crevices of the 
rocks, and blooming among utter desolateness in grand 
profusion, extract from that ancient soil the delicate 



^24 OONCLUSIOK. 

food of the bee, and grow as if only to assert the 
former ricfaneas of the Land of Ftomise." * But a 
single example more must in conclusion suffice for many. 
The modem Beisan is the Bethshan of Scripture, 
and the Scythopolis of the Greeks. It was one of the 
strongest holds in the land, and its remains are among 
the most extensive nuns there. Copious streams sur- 
round the place, and flow down the Ghor of Beisan to 
the Jordan. The temples, the theatre, the tell, a bridge 
of extraordinary height, and other remains, speak of 
Roman times and Boman influence. Now, a place with 
such latent capabilities only waits for the stimulus of 
a wise and a good government to prove once more a focus 
of industry like some of our regions in the West Its 
abundant streams, and its unstinted fertility, render it 
''capable (we are told) of sustaim'ng a little nation in and 
of themselves.*' These and similar indications tell ua 
what the land once was, and what it may yet become ; 
and when the set time shall have arrived, the wise and 
the good government will be raised up, the blessing 
will not be withheld, and the once delightsome land 
will become a delightsome land again. 

* TentL^mtlu Holy Land. 






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