PALESTINE

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THE

CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE;

SCENES OF SACRED HISTORY,
S^i'gtoncal ant ©rsfcriptibt.

BY HENRY STEBBING, D. D., F. R. S.

ILLUSTRATED FROM SKETCHES TAKEN' ON THE SPOT,

BY W. H. BARTLETT.

LONDON :— GEORGE VIRTUE.

LONDON:

JOSEPH RICKEREY, PRINTSB,

SHBR&OURN LANE.

PREFACE.

The writer of the present work has been anxious to give such an account
of the most interesting portions of Palestine, as may serve to illustrate
both the historical and present character of the country.

As authorities for the descriptions of the places spoken of, he has carefully
examined the works of the most distinguished travellers, foreign as well as
English. It has been his wish to show in what spirit these different
writers have contemplated the objects which they describe, and thus to enable
the reader to find the most natural channel for his thoughts, or the best
aid for his associations.

In connexion with these topographical accounts, the writer has in-
troduced some historical details; and he has ventured, from time to
time, to express the feelings which the subject, so full of what is great,
wonderful, and pathetic, excited in his mind. It will afford him no
ordinary satisfaction, if the work should prove interesting to the Chris-
tian reader ; and, still more, if it should be found useful in impressing
upon any one, a stronger sense of the reaUties with which his religion
has ever been connected ; and will be, as by a natural bond, through all
remaining times.

iv PREFACE.

It need scarcely be added, that the pictorial illustrations of this volume
may be regarded as faithfully descriptive of the scenes which they repre-
sent. Mr. Bartlett's reputation is too well established to render this
praise necessary. He is an experienced and intelligent traveller, as well
as an accomplished artist. The tone and feeling which characterize his
drawings, are in harmony with the spirit of the best writers on the
Holy Land. They have, therefore, a higher value than that derived from
any ordinary artistic merit, and deserve a corresponding attention.

In some few instances, no materials could be found for any correct
literary account of the scenes depicted. The author has considered it
Ijetter, in these cases, to trust to the fidelity of the artist, than to give
a description little better than imaginary. But in respect to the illus-
trations generally, he has endeavoured to treat of the subjects to which
they refer, not as subordinate to the plates, but in their larger and more
historical aspect. It is not often necessary to tell the reader what is
already told him by a skilful engraving. The author hopes, therefore,
that by following the suggestions of the artist, without confining himself
to them, he may have brought into more distinct relief some of the most
impoi'tant fiicts connected with the destinies of Palestine.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I. — Early Intercourse of Cliristians with the Holy Laud .... 1

II. — The Road to Jerusalem — From Tripoli to Acre ... 25
III.— From Acre to Nazareth, and Cana of Galilee . . . . .40

IV. — From Nazareth to Tiberias ...... 56

V. — From Tiberias to Julias Bethsaida . . . . . 83

VI. — From the Lake of Tiberias to Samaria .... 108

VII. — From Samaria to Jerusalem ... . . . . . 121

VIII.— Jerusalem— The Holy Sepulchre ...... 128

IX. — Via Captivitatis — Gethsemane — Mount of Olives — Via Dolorosa . . 143

X. — Mount Zion and Mount Moriah — Acre and Bezetlia . . . 151

XI. — Places of Note round Jerusalem . . . . . .164

XII. — Jericho and the Dead Sea ...... 174

XIII.^Hebron and its Environs ....... 186

XIV.— From Hebron to Petra ....... 194

XV. — Mount Sinai and the surrounding Region ..... 209

XVI.— Conclusion : Cesarseai— Rhodes— Athens— Rome .... 230

LIST OF PLATES.

To face Page
Vignette— Scene near Ramla

Map of Palestine 1

Shrine of the Nativity, Bethlehem . 8

Well near Emmaus 4

Interior of the House of a Christian

Family 24

SiDON AND Mount Lebanon, from the

Sea 30

Sarepta and the Coast of Sidon . . . 32

Mount Carmel 41

Vale of Nazareth 44

Well of the Virgin 46

Well at Nazareth 46

Nazareth, looking towards the Plain of

esdraelon 49

Mount Tabor, looking towards Gilboa

AND THE Jordan 60

Nain 65

Plain of Esdraelon, from Jenin . 68

Jezeeel, Mount Gilboa, and Beth-shan . 70
Arab Camp, near Mount Tabor . . 72

Tiberias 74

Baths and City of Tiberias . . . 80

The Lake of Tiberias 88

Mount Hermon, Upper Valley of the

Jordan 90

Lake of Tiberias, from the Castle of

Saphet 92

Valley of Sichem and Nablous . . . 95
Samaritans showing the Book of the Law 107
Colonnade at Seeaste, Samaria . . . 110

The Hill of Samaria 116

Jacob's Well at Sychar 119

Mount Gehizim and the Vale of Nablous 121
Wells AND Remains of the Pool at Bethel 122
Seilun, Site of Shiloh .... 123

Church at Shiloh 123

Gibeah, from Michmash .... 124
Ramleh, with the Hills of Judea . 124
Gibeah, from Neby Samwil. . 124

Anata, (Anathoth,) Hill Country, Judea 124
Modern Jerusalem {double plate) . . . 126
Church of the Holy Sepulchre . 131

Cavern where the Holy Cross was found 139
Pool of Hezekiah, Jerusalem . . .144

To face Pai/e
The Garden of Gethsemane . . . 144

Tombs in the Valley of Jehoshaphat . 14.5
Tomb of the Virgin, Jerusalem . . . 14.5
Jews' Place op Wailing .... 145

Pool of Siloam 146

Mount of Olives, from the Wall . 146

The Mount of Olives and Jerusalem, N.E. 146

Lower Pool of Gihon 147

Arch in the Via Dolorosa . . . . 149
Mount Zion, from the Hill op Evil Coun-
sel 151

Roman and Medi.£val Masonry, Jerusalem 151
rA(;ADE OF the Tombs of the Kings, Jeru-
salem 153

Tower of Hippicus 153

Enclosure of the Haram, Jerusalem . 154
The Golden Gate, Jerusalem . . . 159

Rachel's Tomb 164

Bethlehem 165

Greek Church, at Bethlehem . . 166

Basilica, at Bethlehem 166

Etham, near Bethlehem .... 168

Fields of Bethany 169

Solomon's Pools, near Bethlehem . . 170
Zekoa and the Herodian . . . . 171
Plain of Jericho, looking towards Moab 175
Greek Bathing-Place, near Jordan . 178
Halt above the North End of the Dead

Sea 180

Convent of Santa Saba . . . .183

Hebron 186

Pool at Hebron 189

Haram at Hebron 190

Ancient Masonry, near Hebron . 193

Plan of Petra 194

Plain Er-Rahah, Mount Sinai . . . 209
Suez, from the Mounds of the Ancient

Canal 228

Fair at Khan et Tujjar .... 230

Cesar.sa 230

Harbour of Rhodes 231

Sanur 231

Mars Hill, at Athens .... 232
The Parthenon, at Athens . . . 232

Rome from the Capitol .... 234

KEY

TO THE

VIEW OF MODERN JERUSALEM.

1. JAFFA ROAD.— Enters the city by the Jaffa Gate, which is

concealed behind the Tower of Hippicus. Tliis is the road
by which pilgrims and travellers usually arrive from the coast.

2. UPI'ER POOL OF GIHON.— A square pool, probably of

high antiquity; around it are the tombs of the Turkish
cemetery, one of which is conspicuous in the view.

3. PLAIN OF REPIIAISI.— The Bethlehem road crosses this

plain, of which a portion only is seen ; it enters the city
by the Jaffa Gate.

4. LOWER POOL OF GIHON, (scarcely visible from this point,

as it lies rather higher up the valley of Hinnom.) — A large
pool, of great antiquity, of which only the edge can be seen
from this point ; along the side of it passes the aqueduct
from Bethlehem, which is conducted into the Temple area.

5. HILL OF EVIL COUNSEL.— A bold height opposite Mount

Zion. On its summit are some obscure ruins, and in its
sides, above the valley, are numerous tombs.

fi. VALLEY OF IITNNOM.— This valley, rising in the high land
near the Jaffa Gate, defends the south-west side of Mount
Zion.

7. TOMBS AND "ACELDAMA."— These tombs, which are very
numerous, are cut in the rocky side of the bill, and are
of various antiquity. The supposed site of the "Aceldama "
is occupied by the arched building, formerly a receptacle for
dead bodies.

H. EN ROGEL. — A deep well, supjiosed to be identical with En
Rogel, in the centre of a fertile tract, at the junction of the
valleys of Hinnom and Jehoshaphat, formerly called the
King's Gardens, and irrigated from the Pool of Siloam above.

'J.

POOL OF SILOAM.— Was .-it the mouth of the Valley of
the Tyropeon ; according to Josephus, the present is identical
in position ; only the edge can be seen from this point. The
water is brought from the Pool of the Virgin by a sub-
terraneous pa.ssage cut tlirough the Hill of Oplicl. (t^ee 2!».)
Just below is a remarkable tree, the traditional place uf
martyrdom of the prophet Isaiah.

10. TOMB OF DAVID.— Mosque, originally a Christian church;

and Armenian convent ; the former contaiuing the tradi-
tional tomb, not shown to Christians or Jews. Near at hand
is the Protestant Cemetery.

11. ZION GATE.— The only gate between the Jaffa Gate and that

of St. Stephen ; within are the habitations of the lepers.

12. ARMENIAN CONVENT.— Occupies the level-part of Mount

Zion : the church of St. James, belonging to it, of which the
dome is seen, is very handsome, the buildings of the Convent
extensive, and the gardens delightful.

13. JEWISH QUARTER.— Extends over the slope of Mount

Zion, from the Armenian Convent to the Temple, with
which it formerly comnnmicated by a bridge, of which a
portion (not seen) still exists on the temple side.

U. CITADEL (TOWER OF IIIPPICUS) NEAR THE JAFFA
GATE. — The citadel, jirincipally of the middle ages, is
defended on the side of the Valley of Hinnom by a fosse,
not seen. The large square tower is the llippicm of Jose-
phus, a very important starting-point in its topography.

15. ENGLISH CHURCH— The foundation of the English Epis-
copal Church on Mount Zion is near the Tower of Hippicus.

CHURCH OF THE HOLY SEPULCHRE AND GREEK
CONVENT. — The centre dome is erected over the supposed
sepulchre, the identity of which is, however, disputed ; it
was without the second wall of the Ancient City. The
church is extensive. The convent of the Greek monks
adjoins it.

LATIN CON VENT.— The usual stopping place of travellers in
Jerusalem.

DAMASCUS GATE.— A Saracenic structure.

TOMBS OF THE KINGS. — The Damascus road passes near
the Tombs of the Kings, (so called,) but more proliubly the
tomb of Helena, Queen of /^diabene. They are excavated
in the rock ; the position of the snuftre court only is been in
the view.

17.

18.
19.

KEY TO THE VIEW OF MODERN JERUSALEM.

■20. TURKISU .MOSQUE IN BKZETIIA.— This quarter of the
citv is principally occupied by the Turks, and is tliinly
inhabited.

:.'l. CHUKC'M OF ST. ANNE. — A Gothic Iniilding of the time of
the Crusades, now converted into a mosque.

22. GATE OF ST. STEPHEN.— So called from the tradition that

St. Stephen was stoned just without it. This is the gate by
which the road from B.'thany and Jericho enters the city ;
immediately below is the Garden of Gethsemane. (See 33.)

23. GOLDEN GATE — A magnificent gate of Roman architectui'e,

either of Herod's Temple or Adrian's Fortress ; now closed
up, but the interior is perfect.

24. GOVERNOR'S HOUSE, (FORT ANTONIA.)— This building

stands on a rock, unquestionably the site of Fort Antonia.
There is a fine view of the courts of the Temple from its
roof.

2.i. MOSQUE OF OMAR. — A maguificeut Saracenic structure,
occupying the site of the Temple of Solomon. It stands on
a raised platform of marble, approached tlirough the gates
seen in the view. The vast enclosui-e arotinci it is interdicted
to Christians.

26 MOSQUE OF EL AKSA. — Another extensive Mosque, perhaps
originally a Christian Basilica, standing at the south ex-
tremity of the enclosure ; beneath it is an ancient gate, now
closed, of the same date as the " Golden," leading up into it.

27. REMARKABLE JEWISH MASONRY.— The large stones,

forming part of the ancient Temple wall, are very conspicuous
at this point ; the masonry of the upper part of the wall is
much smaller and of later date. Within are the vaults,
supporting this part of the Temple area.

28. OPHEL. — The site of this quarter of the Ancient City is now

covered with olives.

29. FOUNTAIN OF THE VIRGIN.— An ancient fountain, com-

municating with that of Siloam by a subterraneous passage
cut in the rock.

30. VILLAGE OF SIL0 4M.— A miserable village built among

the tombs, overhanging the Valley of Jehoshaphat ; only
the top of its 'ouildings can be seen.

31. VALLEY OF JEIIOSH.APHAT, JEWISH CEMETERY.—

The Valley of Jehoshaphat, or of the brook Kidron, merely
a dry water-course, rises in the high land near the Tombs
of the Kings, slopes round all the north-east side of Jerusa-
lem, aud unites with that of Ilinnom at En Rogel. Th?
portion under the Temple wall, on the opposite side, is
occupied by the Jewish Cemetery, of which the flat tombs
appear.

32. TOMB OF ABSALOM.— This tomb, and others near it, hewn

in the rock facing the temple, constitute the most remarkable
groiiji about the city. They are of Grseco-Egyptian archi-
tecture.

33. GARDEN OF GETHSEMANE AND TOMB OF THE

VIRGIN. — A group of very old olive-trees, traditionally so
called ; behind them is the subterraneous Chapel of the
Tomb of the Virgin.

34. MOUNT OF OLIVES.— The .Mount of Olives overlooks Jeru-

salem on the east, being one hundred and seventy-five feet
higher than Mount Zion. It is still scattered over with
olive-trees, and there are pathways across to Bethany,
whence Christ entered into Jerusalem. On the summit is
tlie Church of the Ascension.

35. CHAPEL OF THE PREDICTION.— A smaU chapel on tlie

Moimt of Olives, the traditional site of Christ's prediction
of the ruin of Jerusalem.

36. CAMEL- ROAD FROM BETHANY AND JERICHO.—

This crosses the lower part of the Mount of Olives, and
enters the city by St. Stephen's Gate. A caravan is here
passing.

37. ROAD TO ANATA.— Near the summit of the hiU on this

road is the finest view of the city.

38. NEBI SAilWIL.— .\ remarkable hill about four miles from the

city, supposed, by Dr. Robinson, to be the ancient Mizpeh.

39. HILL OF OFFENCE.— This is, in fact, a portion of the range

of the Mount of Olives ; so called because the traditional
site of Solomon's worship of Ashtaroth.

40. GROUP OF ARABS.

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THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

EARLY INTEKCODESE OF CHRISTIANS WITH THE HOLY LAND.

But few generations have passed, since the time when Palestine was known
only to the most adventurous and enthusiastic of travellers. Even pilgrims and
devout warriors encountered with a feeling of awe the perils of the way by which
they were to reach its shores. The seas and deserts which separated it from the rest
of the world, seemed impassable to other men. When the spirit which animated
the leaders of the first Crusade seized upon the popular mind, unnumbered multi-
tudes were seen thronging the highways of France and Italy, ready to precipitate
themselves upon the provinces of the East. Never had au expedition been begun
more fatal to the greater part of those by whom it was attempted. Thousands of
the trembling devotees, who had hoped to reach tlie holy sepulchre, perished on the
way. New terrors were thus added to those with which the journey to Palestine had
been contemplated by the generality of men ; nor was it till after the Crusaders had
formed a temporary establishment in the country, that the species of supernatural
awe, which was mingled with the feeling of its sanctity, began to diminish, and to
leave the mind firee to estimate aright the real difficulties and dangers of a pilgrimage
to the Holy Land.

It was at a very early period aStei the establishment of the gospel, that the more
fen'ent and courageous of Christians adopted the practice of seeking the banks of
the Jordan, and the sacred spots of Bethlehem and Calvarj', in the hope of still fur-
ther quickening their faith in evangelical tradition. The Emperor Constantine, soon
after his conversion, turned his attention to the state of Jerusalem. It was with
peculiar interest that he listened to the accounts given him of the sufferings and
triumphs of the Saviour. The scenes amid which they had occurred became sacred
to his imagination. His mother, Helena, was still more afiected by the recitals of
those who had lately xisited Palestine. Constantine, accordingly, directed that
means should be employed to clear the spot in which the blessed Jesus had
been buiied, and to prepare materials for the erection of a church, which might
be worthy of Christian admiration. It is but right, he said in his letter to Macarius,

2 THK CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

the bishop, that that place which is nobler than all other places in the world, should
be adorned with a magnificence proper to its gloiy.

The aged Helena beheld the piety, as she had the fortunes of her son, with pro-
found gratitude to God. She was anxious to prove her thankfulness in the sight of
the world, and to set an example, according to the spirit of the age, of zeal and
devotion. Disregarding, therefore, the weight and infirmities of her years, she re-
solved on visiting the holy places of Palestine herself, and on inspecting the spots
where she might raise the most useful and durable monuments to the honour of her
Saviour. Her journey was marked by numberless acts of true Christian charity.
Wherever she passed the poor were provided for by her bounty : the hungry were
fed, the naked clothed. Many who had been unjustly cast into prison were set fi-ee.
Others were taken fi-om the mines ; and several, who had been sent into exile, were
restored to their homes. On her arrival in Palestine, she hastened to the neighbour-
hood of Jerusalem ; and as the Holy Sepulchre was already adorned witli the noble
edifice built by Constantino's command, so she directed that the spots pointed out
by tradition as those of our Lord's birth and ascension, should be surmounted by
similar structures.

Helena's pilgrimage afforded an example of devotion, which obtained many fol-
lowers. It soon began to be regarded as a proper sign of affection to the Saviour to
seek the land which had witnessed his wonderful works : to show reverence for his
birthplace, by praying at the shrine which now occupied the place of the manger:
to prove the gratitude felt for redemption, by shedding the bitterest tears of repent ■
ance in the gloom of Gethsemane, or on the summit of Calvaiy.

Whether such a feeling was the fruit of earnest piety, or of an unhealthy enthu-
siasm, we stop not to inquire. But it was the sentiment of the times ; and it led to
many an exhibition of intense devotion, which it would be melancholy to think of,
as wanting altogether in spiritual life.

Among the earliest of those who thus sought the Holy Land, was the celebrated
St. Jerome. His love of learning, and powers of observation, rendered his pilgrimage
one of great value to religion in general. He became acquainted, during his long
residence in the country, with many particulars, which he afterwards applied to the
illustration of the divine word ; nor is it improbable that, though in far inferior
degrees, other devout and observant Christians gathered information in their pil-
grimage, which contributed, in various ways, to the instruction of their brethren.

St. Jerome had suffered at Rome much distress firom the persecution of rivals and
enemies. He resolved to seek among the sacred scenes of Palestine relief to his
vexed and agitated mind. On his first arrival in Syria, he began to doubt whether
even there he could find the repose which he so anxiously sought. Controversies
and disputes of every kind prevailed among the several parties into which the
Christians of that produce were now unhappily divided. His own personal state
also greatly disturbed him. He felt less spiritual, less uneaithly, than in earlier

\Ji

TUE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 3

times. Influenced by tliese circumstances, he sought a remote solitude ; and con-
tinued to pray and weep till his improved strength of mind and S]5irit encouraged
him to return to Jerusalem. There he conversed with the pious Cyril, bishop of the
see ; and from him he obtained permission to found a monastery at Bethlehem, in
order that, speaking according to the figurative language of the times, when Joseph
and Mary came to Bethlehem they might not want an inn to receive them. The
monasterj'^ thus built became the resort of numerous devout men ; and so favourable
did Jerome feel the influence of the place, and its smrounding scenes to his own
growth in piety, that he anxiously desired the most beloved of his friends to leave
Rome, and take up their abode in the Holy Land. " Will that day never come,"
he says, " when we may ^'isit the sepulchre of the Saviour, and weep there together r
And then approach the cross, and on the Mount of Olives ascend in mind and
thought with the ascending Lord ? When we may see Lazanis come forth bound
with the giave-cloths, and the waters of Jordan purified by the baptism of Jesus ?
When we may go to the folds of the shepherds, and pray in the tomb of David, and
listen to the prophet Amos, making the hills resound with the notes of his pastoral
horn ? When we may visit the tents of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob ; and see the
fountain in which Philip baptized the Eunuch; and journey to Samaria, and medi-
tate amid the ashes of John the Baptist, of Elijah, and Obadiah ? And enter the
cave in which the prophets were preserved and nourished in the time of persecution
and famine ? Yes ! and we will go to Nazareth, and, according to the meaning of its
name, we will see the flower of Galilee. Not far from thence is Cana, in which the
water was turned into wine. And we will wander to Mount Tabor, and to the taber-
nacle of the Saviour, beholding him, not as Peter, with Moses and Elias, but with
the Father and the Holy Spirit. Thence we can journey to Genesareth, and con-
template the five and the four thousand men fed with the five and the seven loaves
in the desert. And the gate of Nain will rise to our view, where the widow's son
was restored to life : and Hermon will excite us to reflection, and the stream of
Endor, where Sisera was overcome. Capernaum, so familiar with the miracles of
the Lord, and all Galilee, shall be visited. And then, Christ accompanjdng us, we
will return by Siloam and Bethel to our cave, and will sing, and weep, and pray
together; continually exclaiming, with the spouse in the Canticles, ' I found him
whom my soul sought : I will hold him, and will not let him go.' "

Such were the feelings with which St. Jerome beheld the scenes rendered sacred
to faith, and holy thought, by the workings of divine Providence, and the j)resence
of the Saviour of mankind. Not long after the letter above alluded to was wiitten,
Paula, a rich and noble lady, overwhelmed with grief at the loss of her husband,
adopted St. Jerome's counsel, and set sail for Palestine. The account given of her
jouniey aflbrds an interesting proof of the patience and courage necessary for such
an undertaking at the beginning of the fifth century. But every island, city, or pro-
vince by which the pilgrim passed, brought to recollection the suflerings or triumphs

4 THE CHRISTIAN I\ PALESTINE.

of some venerable ■n-itness to the power of tlie gospel. Thus the length of way was
almost disregarded ; and the intention of the traveller to visit the Holy Land was
sufficient of itself to secure him the sympathy and hospitality of all tnie Christians.
So greatly was this the case, that to provide for the pilgrim's entertainment soon
became recognized as one of the works of piety deserving the highest esteem. In
obedience to this sentiment, buildings were attached to chiurches, in which especial
provision was made for the reception of pilgrims. A deacon also was appointed to
see to their entertainment ; and where all this could not be done, a straw pallet, and
bread and water, the simple fare which foimed the wanderer's usual repast, were
prepared for him against niglitfall, in many a solitary hovel by the wayside.

The route taken by pilgrims in those days is cleai-ly pointed out in the account
given of Paula's progress from Italy to Palestine. On her anival in that countrj-,
she proceeded from Berytus and Sidon to Sarepta: thence on to Tyre, and to
Ptolemais, or Acre. Passing through the fields of Megiddo, " conscious of the death
of Josiah," she entered the land of the Philistines. Then contemplating with wonder
the ruins of Dor, once a powerful city, she proceeded to Tuixis Stratonis, or Caesarea,
and there saw the house of Cornelius, " the church of Christ;" and the dwelling-place
of Philip, and the chamber of his four daughters that prophesied. She next anived
at the half-ruined town of Antipatris ; and Lydda, famous for the resurrection and
cure of Dorcas and ^Eneas. Not far from thence she beheld Arimathaea, the city of
Joseph, who bipied the Lord ; and Nob, fonnerly a city of the priests, now the
tomb of the slain : and Joppa, and Nicopolis, before caUed Emmaus ; and going up
from thence, she came to Bethoron, the upper and lower, cities founded by Solomon,
but ruined by wars and revolutions. To the right of these towns, she saw Ajalon,
and Gibeon, and Gibea ; and proceeding on her course, she passed the ruined tomb
of Helena on the left, and then entered Jerusalem, " that city of three names, Jebus,
Salem, and Jerusalem, and for some time, when restored by Hadrian, known as
^ha."

Paula, on entering the holy city, was in\'ited by the proconsul, who was well
acquainted with her family, to occupy a residence proper to her rank and fortime.
But she desired to exercise those virtues of humility and patience, without which
there could have been no harmony between her feelings and the scenes which she
came to contemplate. She therefore refused the offers made her of a hospitable
reception ; and retired to a little ceU, as the proper abode of a Christian pilgrim.
From this retreat she visited Calvary, and the sepulchre of the Lord, kissing, it is
said, the stone which the angels had removed on the morning of the resurrection,
and the spot on which the body of the Lord was laid. " And she ascended Mount
Zion, of the overtlu-owu city on which it was said, ' Woe, woe to Ariel,' but of that
built up, ' The Lord ioveth the gates of Zion, mcfre than all the dwellings of Jacob.'
Nor was this spoken of the gates which are now dust and ashes, but of those gates
against wliich hell shall not prevail, and through which the congregation of believers

-• •*

xc*! s

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 5

go to Christ." The next object which engaged her attention, was, according to this
ancient narrative, the column to which Christ was bound while being scourged ; and
after contemplating this sad memorial of his liumiliation, she was conducted to the
place in which the disciples were assembled when the blessed Spirit descended
upon them on the day of Pentecost.

There were many poor and distressed objects in Jerusalem at this period. Upon
these, wealthy strangers, hke Paula, gladly exercised their Christian charity. Bene-
volence formed, in her case, another support to those holy sentiments with which
her soul was filled. She felt that she had a nearer union with her Saviour as she
ministered to the wants of his poor disciples : that she had a better and higher right
to indulge in the sweet and solemn meditations which occupied her mind.

From Jerasalem, Paula went to Bethlehem. On the right-hand side of the road
she saw the tomb of Rachael. As soon as she entered the town, she proceeded to
the cave in which the Saviour was bom, and such was the power, says St. Jerome,
which faith exercised on her thoughts, that she seemed reaUy to behold with her
eyes the divine infant cradled in the manger ; the adoring magi ; the star shining
over the place where he lay; the virgin mother; and the shepherds leaving their
folds, which they watched by night, to come and worship the new-bom king.

The sentiments which inspired such persons as Paula, gained strength through seve-
ral succeeding ages. Their growth was intimately connected with two very different
classes of feeling. In the one case, pure devotion to the Saviour wrought upon the
heart, and urged the pilgrim to seek the Holy Land as a mere manifestation of love
and thankiiilness. But in the other case, a notion was cherished that something like
merit — compensating for sin — belonged to an undertaking so fraught with difficulty
as a journey to Syria. Hence many who either painfully doubted their own peni-
tence, their own readiness to become sincere disciples of the Saviour, or who could
not but confess an actual resistance to what is most spiritual in his gospel, gladly
availed themselves of the means which a pilgrimage seemed to offer to supply their
confessed deficiencies. As soon as this idea began to take possession of men's
minds, the number of pilgrims increased every year. It was no longer the simple
worshipper, the humble, adoring believer only, who sought the shrine in Gethsemane
or Bethlehem. As various motives operated to induce the penitent to seek relief to
his conscience in this, or that exercise of humiliation, so did the train of pilgrims
who appeared at the gates of Jerusalem present many various shades of character.
Men long accustomed to a life of worldly toil or pleasure were seen prostrate before
the cross. Their companions were inquiring scholais, priests, and monks. 'Wlien
they rose, each took a different path, some, their consciences being satisfied with
the mere act of worsliip which had been performed, or with the penance which had
been endured, hastened back to their native land ; others fonncd fi-atemities and
built monasteries : while some traversed, with restless but devout curiosity, the length
ajid breadth of the land, listening intently to every whisper of tradition, and employ-

6 THE CHKlSTtlS Ht PALESTIVE.

ing such powers of obseirarion as ihey might possess in detennining the claim of
this or that locality to the homage which it received.

Thus Palestine giadnaDr became the common resort of those whose minds,
whether for a tone, or pennanently, experienced the mightier impulses of religions
conviction. Of those who returned home, few would fail to speak of the impressions
made upon them when they wept, bowed down with melancholy thought, in Geth-
semane ; or when they raised their eyes to heaven on the moimt of transfiguration,
or in Bethany. To a fervent, devout spirit, nothing could be so stimulating as such
representations. Even in the case of ordinary inquirers, a land like Palestine most
have been like a rich and curious volume, eveiy page of which contained something
deserving thonghtftil consideration.

The feelings which impelled so many to visit the Holy Land, led others, who could
not undertake the journey, to seek some share of the pUgrim's merit, by sympathising
with bini in all his anxieties and triumphs. Hence before he set out from his home,
the parish priest solemnly invested him with the pilgrim's garb, and put into his
hand the staff which was to support his weary steps, and which had been consecrated
by prayer. The people of the parish assembling, to join their blessings to those of
the priest, accomp>anied him on the first stage of his journey, and then bade him
fareweD, as one who, according to the emotions which they then felt, was about to
trace the visible footsteps of the adorable Saviour. If he returned, similar expres-
sions of honour and thanktulness were employed, to indicate the sentiments enter-
tained respecting a devout pilgrimage. The pahn-branch which he brought with
him from the valleys which had breathed a divine blessing was contemplated with
holv wonder, and then laid upon the altar. It was a token of the pilgrim's success.
It was also a sign that could be fek and understood of the actual existence and
reahty of those scenes amid which the Son of God laboured and suffered for the
salvation of the world.

Gladly, however, as religions communities beheld some one or other of their
members preparing to represent them, as it were, in the city of the Lord ; to gather
information for them as to the existing character of the places so familiar to them in
name, — such was the rapidity with which the passion for pilgrimages to the Holy
Land increased, that even before the close of the fifth century, fears began to be
entertained respecting the general result of the movements with which it was con-
nected. Some of the most eminent Christian teachers saw with alarm, that both
discipline and morals were perilled by the hberty naturally accorded to the wanderer
in his long and adventurous journey. The simple duties of a rehgious life seemed
cast into the shade by the glare of his supposed heroism and exalted devotion ; and
real penitence and faith were in danger of being altogether set aside, for the mere
factitious sentimenu of an excited fancy.

But notwithstanding the cautions view taken of the subject by the more thoughtful
of the clergy, the desire of visiting the Holy Land continued to gain a stronger hold

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 7

of the popular mind. The veDeration entertained for the relics of saints and mar-
tyrs, and, still more, for any which might be supposed to exist of the Saviour him-
self, was a powerfid element in the religious character of the times. Palestine
offered a rich held to the enterprising inquirer alter such memorials. It had long
been confidently beheved that the wood of the true cross, and other instruments of
the crucifixion, still existed. An impulse was thus given to the researches of the
curious and the devout. It is far firom impossible that many reUcs might be found
which had a rightful claim to be regarded as genuine. But in numberless cases, mis-
taken zeal, a fervent imagination, and in some instances, vanity and avarice, induced
those who had travelled to the Holy Land with this object in view, to stamp everr-
thing with the character of a rehc which conjecture, or idle tradition, could represent
imder that form. Neither the people, nor the clergy, cared to inquire too strictly
into the matter. A deep, intense deUght was experienced in the contemplation of
objects which were said to have borne a part, however mean or doubtful, in aught
that concerned the Saviour, the apostles, or evangelists. It was the sentiment, the
feeling itself^ thus excited, which became the reaUty ; and by a species of self-
deception, often consciously indulged, many assigned a value to the rehc which
only properly belonged to their own fervent affection for whatever they beheved to
be divine.

The intercom^e with Palestine was thus commenced, and for some generations
carried on only by travellers, whose reasons for making the journey were whoUy derived
from their faith. But as the spirit of commerce advanced in power and grandeur, a
new set of motives was created for penetrating into the provinces of Syria, and the
remoter East. The ports of the Mediterranean sent forth numerous fleets of mer-
chantmen, bound to Alexandria, Beyrout, or more distant emporiums of Oriental
trade. In these places the European adventurer met with natives from countries,
the names of which had hitherto been connected with the wildest fables. As they
talked with each other of the lands in which they had been bom, their famihar words
seemed to render the road between their several provinces wider and smoother.
The desire of gain now mingled itself with the stimulating love of novelty and adven-
ture. A voyage from Marseilles to Alexandria was easily accomphshed, and of those
who landed on the shores of -Egypt or Syria, some were always to be found who
could not resistthe desire to penetrate into the interior of those countries of miracle
and tradition.

Had affairs continued in this state, Jerusalem and the siurounding districts would
soon have been peopled by Christians from all the great European provinces. But
in the early part of the seventh centiu^-, a power, mightier than that of any dominion
in either East or West then existing, was estabUshed as the scourge of Christendom.
Mahomet claimed Jerusalem no less than Mecca or Medina. His followers did not
lower their pretensions ; and when the great and victorious Omar took possession ot
the sacred city, in the year 637, he pronoimced it holy, as the scene of events no

8 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

less dear to the disciples of Mahomet, than to the Jew and the Christian. In the
conditions wliich he offered to the venerable patriarch, Sophronius, he gave full per-
mission to the disciples of Christ to obsen-e the rites prescribed to them in the
gospel. They were allowed to assemble in their churches ; to preach and pray.
But they were not to form pubUc processions ; to ring the church bells, except in
so far as was necessary to give notice of service ; or to make exhibition of the
cross.

The tolerant spuit of the conquerors soon yielded to the temptations which pride
and success created. Christians in Palestine had hitherto felt that amid the memo-
rials of their Saviour's love they were as free from earthly, as they hoped to become
from spiritual enemies. But now tyranny and oppression met them at every step.
They saw the crescent, like a baleful meteor, hanging over their holy places. As
they worshipped and trembled before the cross, threats and insults of every kind
met their ear ; and they were driven from the Holy Sepulchre, and from Zion, as if
they were themselves polluting the very spots which they regai-ded with so intense
a feeling of delight and awe.

Under the splendid rule of the famous Haroun al Raschid, Christian pilgrims were
spared the indignities to which they had been subjected during the preceding age.
The power of Charlemagne also contributed to render the journey to Palestine far
easier and safer ; and the generous spirit which animated the two monarchs, seemed
proudly to reject the notion of acquiring dominion by religious oppression. For
more than a hundred years did this favourable state of things continue ; and during
that period the poorest as well as the wealthiest and most enlightened provinces of
Europe sent forth pilgiims to pray for them, and collect rehcs, in the Holy Land.
Charlemagne, it is said, established an extensive institution in Jerusalem for the
reception of travellers from the West. If they were poor, their wants were amply
provided for in this hospitable asylum. On their appearance at the gate, one of the
brethren residing in the house came forward, and bearing a small cross in his hand
bade them welcome, and pointed out some little quiet apartment ready for their
reception. This institution appears to have increased with the increasing number
of travellers. Hence the hospice of the Latin pilgiims consisted, before the end of
tlie tenth century, of twelve houses ; and possessed noble vineyards and gardens,
stretching along the beautifiil vale of Jehoshaphat. A still higher notion is given
of the character of this institution by the fact, that a hbrary was added to its other
accommodations, and that the collection which it contained was open at all times
for the comfort and edification of the numerous strangers in Jerusalem.

Thus the momentary check given to the enthusiasm of those who desired to visit
the birth-place of their religion, was almost wholly removed. The clergy partook of
the general curiosity as well as devotion ; and bishops are said to have left their
dioceses for years, in order to perform what was now considered a higher duty than
any which belonged to the common offices of either social or religious life. Exer-

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 9

cises connected with Christian penitence, and which by their ver}' nature and inten-
tion ought to have been performed in retirement, were now the nominal occupation
of men who passed every day in the excitement of travel ; in encountering some
new awakening difficulty, or in the enjoyment of some agreeable novelty. The very
character of religious humiUty was altered thereby ; and many a pilgrim returned
from Jerusalem with a quicker sense of the delights of the journey, than of the grief
and alarm which, bowed under a weight of conscious guUt, he had experienced
on setting out.

But neither the successors of Aaroun al Raschid, nor those of Charlemagne, par-
took of the virtues which characterized those remarkable men. The Christians in
Palestine soon felt the change which followed the accession of new rulers. Oppres-
sion returned with ignorance and imbecility. Again the Holy Sepulchre was sur-
rounded with jealous guards. A tribute was imposed upon every worshipper at the
shrine. The very entrance to the holy city could not be passed tOl a certain sum
had been paid. Nor did the traveller's difficulties in this respect commence with
his approach to the gates of Jerasalem. As soon as he landed on the shores of
^gypt, a certain sum was demanded of him. If properl}' provided with means, he
paid the money, and was not exposed to any further interruption. But it was fre-
quently the case, that the pilgrim had neither gold nor silver in his purse No
mercj' was shown to poverty by the Egyptian emirs. The discovery that a Christian
had contemplated passing through their province without paying a tribute, excited
profound indignation. Imprisonment was the slightest punishment inflicted ; and
the unfortunate traveller was left in irons till some of his wealthier brethren might
pass bj', and pay the necessary sum for his dehverance.

Tempted by the divisions among the Saracens, the Greek emperor, Nicephorus
Phocas, planned an expedition against the richest of their provinces. Antioch soon
fell into his hands ; and the people of Constantinople greeted the conqueror with
the pompous titles of the Star of the East ; the Scourge of the Infidels.

Unhappily for the Christians in Palestine, the fervour and courage of Nicephorus
were not supported by any corresponding dispositions on the part of his subjects.
The enemy instead of being vanquished, was only stimulated to revenge. Several
of the churches in Jerusalem and its neighbourhood were burnt to the ground: and
the venerable patriarch perished on the scaffold. Of the soldiers who had been
taken prisoners in battle, many were cast into dungeons in Bagdad. Their suffer-
ings were as great as those of the Christians in Palestine ; and they contrived to
make their complaints heard in Constantinople. Zimisces, the successor of Nice-
phorus, was equally animated by pity and ambition. His own subjects, and the
inhabitants of Europe at large, ardently sympathised with his generous sentiments.
Thus a feeling prevailed no less powerful and general than that which led, two or
three generations later, to the commencement of the Crusades.

Zimisces led his vast army into the heart of the Saracen's dominions. Even the

10 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

calif of Bagdad was compelled to humble himself, and become his tribiitarj-. Da.
mascus, aiid other cities, successively yielded to his triumphant progress. Notliing
seemed wanting to the permanent conquest of Syria, but the continuance of his
eign. To the grief and alarm of those to whom he had given life and freedom, he
fell a victim to the base arts of secret enemies. His successors knew not how to
secure the advantages which he had gained. Jerusalem, therefore, became the
prize of the Fatamite califs ; and its inhabitants had reason to dread that the worst
ten-ors of persecution would soon be revived among them. But tliis was not the
case. The new rulers had ventured to oppose the other followers of Mahomet, and
form a sect of their own. They needed some degree of support; and were,
accordingly, rejoiced to find that it would be possible to render the Christijins useful
and valorous allies.

For some time, therefore, the general condition of the faithfld in Palestine was
tranquil and hopefiil. The hospitals recovered their former grandeur : the markets,
which had been instituted by the Europeans, were reopened ; and everything ex-
hibited some sign of the acti^ty and security which can only exist in an advanced
stage of civilization. Had the Fatamite califs continued to feel the vast importance
of concihating the several portions of the mixed society over which they presided, this
tranquillity would probably have been preserved for many years. But the third in suc-
cession, the haughty and canricious Hakem, conceived the most bitter hatred against
the Christians. They were accordingly again subjected to a pitiless persecution.
Both ^gypt and Syria flowed with the blood of the disciples of Jesus. The attempts
made by some of the maritime states of France and Italy to lessen the power of the
tyrant, served only to increase his ferocity. Unhappily, he found many in Jerusalem
ready to join him in the darkest designs of religious fanaticism. Mercy, truth, and
justice were equally set aside to accomplish the overthrow of the gospel, and the
ruin of its professors. Thus on one occasion a dead dog was thrown by their ene-
mies into the court of the principal mosque. The offence was immediately attributed
to them ; and Hakem lost no time in avenging the pretended crime, by the slaughter
of many of the most venerated of their body. Had not the generous devotion of a
noble-minded young man been ready to deliver them, the persecution would pro-
bably have continued till not a Christian was left in Palestine. Hastening to the
tribunal, this champion of his people called upon the magistrate to regard him as
the sole author of the insmt which had been perpetrated against the sanctity of the
mosque. His supposed confession was accepted ; and he at once yielded himself
into the hands of the executioner, who had received orders to subject him to the
acutest tortures which art and experience could inflict. Tasso has modified and
employed this incident, as the foundation of one of the most interesting episodes in
the Jerusalem Dehvered. According to his version of the story, the offence con-
sisted in the daring plan laid and executed by the Christians to recover some sacred
image, which had been removed from their altar to be placed in the shrine of the

THE CHUISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

infidel. A beautiful Christian girl, on hearing the decree published against her
people, proclaimed herself guilty of the crime. She was already bound to the stake,
when a youth who had long loved ber, but without telling his love, rushed into the
crowd, and pleaded so powerfully against himself, that the judge declared he was
satisfied of the guilt of both. Instead, therefore, of fi-eeing Sophronia, the unhappy
youth was only permitted to share her sufferings. He was bound to the same stake:
and wliile preparations were made for firing the pile, he uttered a sad lament that
such should be the fate of lovers so fond and true. Sophronia's fortitude was
firmer in the hour of trial.

" Far other aspirations, other plaints.
Than these, dear friend, the solemn hour should claim :
Think what reward God offers to his saints ;
Let meek repentance raise a loftier aim.
These torturing fires, if suffered in his name,
WDl, bland as zephyrs, waft us to the blest.
Regard the sun, how beautiful his flame !
How fine a sky invites him to the West .
These seem to soothe our pangs, and summon us to rest."

" The Pagans, lifting up their voices, wept ;
In stifled sorrow wept the Faithful too ;
E'en the stern king was touched, — a softness crept
O'er his fierce heart, ennobling, pure, and new :
He felt, he scorned it, struggled to subdue.
And lest his wavering firmness should relent,
His eyes averted, and his steps withdrew :
Sophronia's spirit only was unbent ;
She yet lamented not, for whom all else lament."

Suddenly a powerfid champion and intercessor appears. The tjTant grants
a firee pardon, and to the joy of the multitude, the intended victims are unbound
and set free.

" Restored to life and liberty, how blest.
How truly blest was young Olindo's fate !
For sweet Sophronia's blushes might attest.
That love at length has touched her delicate
And generous bosom. From the stake in state
They to the altar pass : severely tried,
In doom and love already made his mate.
She now objects not to become his bride,
And grateful live with him who would for her have died."

Canto II. Stanzas xxxvi. xxxvii. liii.

The persecution which the jealousy or ambition of the Saracen chief had induced
him to renew, proved in the end of no shght benefit to the Christian cause. Atten-

12 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

tion was directed to the state of the East ; and while pious believers in every country
of Europe wept over the calamities of their brethren in Jerusalem, powerful mo-
narchs felt their spirits stirred with the noble desire of overthrowing a dominion as
injurious to civilization as to reUgion and humanity. But the period of danger was
that which attracted a number of pilgrims to the holy city, whose hopes of recovering
their lost peace of conscience increased with the augmenting perils of the journey.
Such was the superstition of the age, that he who now visited Jemsalem was sure of
obtainin'' the absolution of the chmxh, whatever his crimes or errors. Thus we are
told of a Count of Anjou, who having miu-dered his wife, could find no peace tiU he
iourncyed to the Holy Land. Storms pursued him on his way ; and redoubled the
terrors of his guilty soul ; the victims of his cruelty appeared armed for his destruc-
tion ; and he expected every instant to sink beneath the vengeance of Heaven. At
length he reached Jerusalem. The hope of mercy revived ; and he traversed the
streets with a rope about his neck, and exclaiming, while calling upon his servants
to scourge him, " Lord ! Lord ! have mercy on me ; a wretched and peijui'ed
Christian, wandering far fi-om his own land to seek thy pardon."

A similar account is given of Frotmont, a nobleman of the duchy of Bretagne, in
the time of King Lothaire. He had murdered his uncle, and one of his brothers.
Remorse soon followed the commission of the crime ; and Frotmont, assuming the
dress of a penitent, presented himself before the king in fall court. By the adrice
of liis nobles, and the prelates who surrounded him, Lothaire ordered the offender
to be bound with fetters ; and straightway to set out for the Holy Land. We are
told that the imhappy man gladly obeyed the command ; and that, after having spent
some time at Jerusalem, he journeyed through the most solitary regions of the
neighbouring provinces, and returned to Europe in the time of Pope Benedict HI.
By that pontiff he was advised to continue his penitential course, by making a second
pilgrimage. He yielded to the directions given him ; and having traversed Syria,
the shores of the Red Sea, and great part of Armenia, returned to his own country
in safety, and with the character of a saint. The rest of his life was passed in a
monastery, where, if tradition speak true, he continued to exhibit indisputable proofs
of sincere penitence.

Among the most celebrated of those whose real or supposed crimes induced them
to adopt this method of reconciling themselves to God and society, was Robert
Duke of Normandy, the father of William the Conqueror. He set off, accompanied
by a numerous retinue, barefooted, and clothed, not in the pui-ple robe of royalty,
but in penitential sackcloth. If we may judge of the feelings with which he
commenced the journey from the words which he uttered, his penitence must
have been deep and earnest. " I set a higher price," he said, " on the pains and
sorrows which I suffer for the sake of Jesus Christ, than on the best city in my
dominions." Having fallen sick soon after his anival in the East, he was compelled
to employ a htter. He would not, however, allow Christians to carry him. Saracens

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 18

took, in this case, the place of his usual attendants. On the road, he chanced to
meet a pilgrim from Normand}-. The man inquired if he coidd convey any message
for him. " Yes !" said the dake, " tell my people that you saw on your journey a
Christian prince carried to Paradise by devils." Notwithstanding, however, the tone
of this expression, Robert exercised his charity in Jcmsalem towards Saracens as
well as Christians. His whole conduct and demeanour inspired general admiration;
and it is probable that in his case, and in others of a similar kind, a real change of
character was produced, not indeed from the merit attending the pilgiimage, but
from the influence exercised on the mind by prayer and reflection, and bv an entire
separation from those pursuits and indulgences wliich, in a court, are so apt to
engender pride and its kindred passions. Robert died on his return, at Nice in
Bithynia, expressing with liis last breath the grief which he felt at not having re-
mained long enough in Jenisalem to end his days on the spot where his Lord had
suffered for the sins of the world.

It is worthy of obsen^ation, that, as the time approached for the commencement
of the Crusades, pilgrimages began to be made by large bodies of men travelling in
company, and presenting both to themselves and others the appearance of a httle
army. Thus about twenty years before the first Crusade, a company of seven
thousand pilgrims assembled in Germany, and proceeded towards Constantinople.
At the head of the party were the archbishop of Mentz, the bishop of Utrecht, the
bishop of Ratisbonne, and the bishop of Ramberg. Associated with these dignified
ecclesiastics, were knights and barons, and soldiers of everj' degree. The journey
to Constantinople was fruitfiil in perils and adventures. But they were encountered
with the spirit of lieroism, common to the pUgiims of the age. The dignity of the
travellers secured them an honourable reception at the court of the emperor ; and
Constantinople displayed all its relics of the early ages of Christianity to delight
and animate their hearts with associations proper to their calling.

Hitherto the appearance of pilgrims had been in close agreement with their
character and pursuits. But a remarkable change was now to be discovered in their
garb and manners. The prelates were distinguishable from the meaner pilgrims by
the dignity of their bearing, and the reverence with which they were treated by their
numerous followers. They were adorned with gold and purple ; and the nobles
and warriors, who vied with them in splendour, wore the most costly suits of polished
armour, and the gayest ornaments of their order. It was scarcely possible for the
people through whose provinces they passed, to believe that they were Christian
pilgrims. Hitherto the cowl, the sackcloth, the ashes on the head, the cord about
the neck, and the bare feet, were the distinguishing marks of such travellers. When
the magnificent cavalcade approached the borders of Syria, the inhabitants of the
district counted their numbers, and estimated the value of the booty which was
likely to fall into their hands, should they make a successftil attack. At about a
league firom Ramlah, a band of Arabs fell upon the company. Among the first

14 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

wlio perished was the bishop of Utrecht. A small, ruinous fortification in the desert,
furnished the pilgrims with momentary shelter. Their courage bcreased with the
danger of their position ; and for a long time they continued to defend themselves
against the repeated assaults of the enemy. Desperate were the efforts made by
the Arabs to overcome the obstinate heroism of this little Christian band. The
conflict continued for several days. At length, the utter want of provisions con-
vinced the Christians that they must either yield, or force a passage through the
multitude which siuroundcd their wi-etched fortress. With the characteristic courage
of their age and country, they were on the point of making the attempt to pass the
enemy ; but just as preparations had been made for the sortie, one of the party,
a prie.st, came forth, and entreated his brethren to listen to his words. " Your
strength," he said, " is broken by famine and long endurance. Let us put oiur
trust in God, rather than in our arms. Let us surrender. The barbarians wish for
our gold, not for our lives."

The ad\ice of the priest was taken. By means of an interpreter, information was
conveyed to the Arab cluef that the pilgiims were ready to give up what they pos-
sessed, on condition that their lives were spared, and that they were permitted to
pursue their journey immolested. The fhief immediately repaired to the intrench-
ment, and took with him seventeen of his chosen warriors. Ha\'ing been conducted
to the spot where the archbishop of Mentz awaited him, he listened with impatience
to the statement of the prelate ; and instantly replied, that he had not fought for
three days to receive conditions fi-om the vanquished; and that he and his com-
panions had promised themselves to feast on the flesh and blood of those whom
they had conquered. So saying, he took his turban from his head, and unfolding
it, formed a band, which he insultingly cast like a rope round the neck of the arch-
bishop. The prelate was a bold and powerflil man, and with as much of the spirit
of a wanior as of a churchman in him. Instantly he sprang upon the chief: felled
him to the gi-ound by a blow of his powerfid arm, and bound his hands together,
drawing the cord so tight, it is said, that the blood started out of his fingers' ends.
A terrible combat ensued. But the Christians having the chief and his companions
in their power, placed them in front of their encampment. During the night, a pil-
grim made his way to Ramlah. The Saracen governor and inhabitants of that
])lace had as much reason as the Christians to fear the Arabs. A small force was,
therefore, immediately despatched to the rehef of the pilgrims. The Arabs could
not resist the twofold attack; and the Christians were rewai'ded by the Saracens
with the grant of such a guard and supply of necessaries as their present condition
demanded. Thus protected, they reached Jerusalem in safety ; and their expedition
afforded an example of the passage of large numbers of associates, supplied with
those necessaries for the journey to Syria, which might enable them to become at
any moment a band of warriors instead of a company of pilgrims.

Circumstances of this kuid prepared the way for the Crusades. The road to

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. Ift

Jerusalem was noiy well known to those whose devout sentiments gradually asso-
ciated themselves with others no less agreeable to the spirit of the age. War was
the business and pastime of kings and nobles at this period. When they contem-
plated, therefore, the subject state of the Holy Land, and the oppression suffered
by their brethren, every principle of their nature was stirred with the indignant
desire to take vengeance on the infidel. So long, however, as the journey to Pales-
tine presented unknown diflSculties and terrors, the actual idea of war could not
enter their minds. The most that the bravest man could do was to encoimter, Uke
others, the perils of the way, and weep, as they did, that so holy a possession should
be in the hands of unbehevers. But when it was found that thousands after thou-
sands could keep together in their long journey through the German states : that
they could reach Constantinople in safety, and then pass on into the enemy's
country, with some chance of defending themselves by force ; when this was found
to be the case, the minds of bold and adventurous men, like the knights and barons
of the middle ages, could scarcely fail to conceive the idea of making some effort to
deUver that sacred region, to which all devout souls were looking, firom the insulting
domination of its present rulers.

It was at the time when these feeUngs were beginning to act most powerfiilly on
those who had the best means of accomplishing the design, that Peter the Hermit
made his appearance, and commenced the task of uniting the several parts of that vast
machinery which was necessary to any undertaking of the kind contemplated. The
mightiest princes of the age could not have brought sufficient forces into the field
to cope with the Saracens in Syria. In vain would the Roman pontiff himself, aided
by the choicest of his councillors, have endeavoured to move them to such an enter-
prise. Neither money nor troops could have been raised sufficient for so perilous
an expedition. It needed that, without which no vast enterprise has ever been
attempted with fair prospect of success. It required, that is, the awakening, and
the concentration, of the common forces and sympathies of mankind at large. The
penetrating miderstanding of Peter the Hermit enabled him to discover that if he
could once rouse the great mass of the people in the countries through which he
passed, the princes, the pope, and the bishops would find little difficulty in col-
lecting both an army and supphes, proportionable even to the gigantic character
of a Crusade.

The nature of European intercourse with Palestine was greatly altered by the
expeditions thus commenced. Had Syria remained under the government of the
Saracens, the gradual improvement of that people might have secured to the Chris-
tians a sufficient degree of hberty in the Holy Land to enable them to effect
the main object which they contemplated Ln seeking the sepulchre of their Saviour.
But the Turks were now advancing to the very confines of the eastern empire, and
threatened it with desolation. Palestine was already in their possession ; and the

16 THE CHRISTIAN IX PALESTINE.

Christians found that however savage their former oppressors, those who now held
sway were incomparably more to be dreaded.

A singular contrast existed between the character of the Greek emperors and that
of the Roman pontiffs. In the fonner, imbecility exposed vhe crown, the dignity,
and happiness of the whole empire to ruin: wliile in the latter, energy and ambition
kept the affaii-s of the ecclesiastical state in proud and healthy vigour. Hence when
the terrified emperor, Michael Ducas, besought the aid of Europe against the infidel,
Hildebrand haughtily replied, that he would himself conduct an armament into the
East. Preparations were actually made in agreement with this declaration. Fifty
thousand brave warriors rose at the call of the pontiff, and were ready to follow him
to Asia at the first unfiurling of the banner of the cross. But Hildebrand had other
designs to accomphsh. Had he been less anxious respecting the affairs of the
church at home, there was that in the ardour of his spirit — in his excited, daring
imagination — which would have led him, sooner than any of his cotemporaries, to
assail the infidel.

The project did not cease to be regarded as practicable on the death of Hilde-
brand. His successor, pope Victor, called upon Christians to deliver the Holy
Land from its oppressors ; and with the promise that if they obeyed the exhorta-
tion they should receive remission of sins. The rich merchants of Pisa and Genoa
were among the first to answer the summons. Trae it is, they were also the first to
understand how ruinous it would be to the growing trade of Europe, if Syria, and
the other provinces of Asia and Africa, should be finally cut off from intercourse
with the West. But their piety was at least not inferior to that of others ; and it
would be imjust not to accord praise to the zeal which induced them to prepare the
magnificent armament which gained so splendid a success against the enemy. Ac-
cording to the chroniclers, the troops which they sent out overcame an immense
army prepared to receive them ; and having laid waste a great extent of coast, re-
turned to Italy laden with a rich booty, and leading with them some thousands of
captives.

But still no general movement had been made. There was as yet no appearance
of a common lising of European Christians. No voice, that is, had gone forth
proper to touch the one cord in men's hearts, which, whenever reached, gives the
same answer in every case, though tlie appeal should be made to a milUon. Peter
the Hermit had leamt the language ; had discovered the secret, by the knowledge
of which, one mind, whether for good or evil, acquires such power over others. In
the courts of princes ; in the cell of the monk ; before the throne of the haughtiest
prelate ; in ihe midst of the rude multitude, he spoke with equal fervour and suc-
cess. His words were remembered long after he went his way. Lightly as we may
now think of the arguments which he employed ; little as we can now understand
how the strongest of religious feelings, the deepest seated principles of human

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 17

nature, could be excited by a superstitious regard for so remote a country as Pales-
tine, in the eleventh century no subject was better fitted to engage popular attention,
or to arouse the spirit of a man like Peter the Hermit.

Pope Urban, when he assembled the princes of France and Italj-, with their nu-
merous retainers and followers at Clermont, found their minds already prepared to
obey his exhortations. " It is the will of God," had been pronounced by thousands,
long before it became the recognised war-cry of those who now formally assumed
the cross. The solemn and impassioned appeals of the Hermit had made everj'
Christian feel that, in one way or the other, he was bound to contribute to the
deliverance of the Holy Land, and to the safety of those who sought its shores.

But the enthusiasm of the multitude left far behind the more thoughtful and
calculating devotion of the higher class of crusaders. In some remarkable cases,
indeed, political considerations overcame every attempt of the pontiff or his mis-
sionaries. Both the Emperor of Germany and the King of France returned evasive
answers to the appeals with which they were assailed. Other monarchs, as those of
England and Spain, could point to the state of their kingdoms, as affording a suiE-
cient reason for their not precipitating themselves into new cares and engagements.
But even the sincere and earnest champions of the cross, who could form any proper
idea of the real difficulties attending the proposed expedition, saw the necessity of
making extensive and careful preparations. Instead, however, of waiting for the
appointed time of departure, or submitting themselves to the will of the few expe-
rienced chiefs chosen to conduct the expedition, vast multitudes of men, women,
and children assembled in Lorraine, and urged Philip the Hermit to conduct them
on the route to Palestine. The number of those who thus went forth was greatly
lessened by the time they reached the banks of the Danube ; but the place of those
who found their courage overcome by the first experience of toil and famine, was
soon occupied by other enthusiasts. Unhappily, \iolence and disorder marked their
progress. In passing through Germany they attacked the wealthy Jews with unex-
ampled ferocity ; and when they arrived in Bulgaria it was found that they must
contend with foes of a far more formidable chaiacter, to supply their uumediate
wants. The leader of the Germans was Sir Walter of Pereio, who had with him his
nephew, a bold adventurous knight, Sir Walter the Pennyless ; poor, as his name
betokened, but celebrated for his prowess. On appearing before the walls of Bel-
grade, Sir Walter asked of the governor such help as the need of his followers
required. His request was insultingly rejected ; and, compelled by the want of food,
and every other necessary, he immediately made an attempt to besiege the cit}-.
The open country, in the meanwhile, fiunished his people with a temporary supply.
But to obtain this, they were driven to plunder the helpless peasantry of their cattle
and other possessions ; and thus they excited against them an enemy, imder whose
furious attacks jnany thousands of them perished. Sir Walter soon discovered the
hopelessness of his position ; and gathering around him the stoutest of his followers,

18 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

he retr-ated into the neighbouring foiests, through which he penetrated to Nissa,
the capital of the country. The king listened with interest to Sir Walter's account
of his expedition, and of the sentiments by which he was inspired. Unlike the
governor of Belgrade, he treated him with hospitality ; and gave him guides to con-
duct him by the nearest route to Constantinople.

The brave knight who had endured so many perils in the early part of the expe-
dition, did not live to enjoy the better prospect which thus seemed to open before
liim. He died in Bulgaria ; and it is said that the people of the country, as well as
his own followers, regarded him as a saint, and his remains as a blessed and sacred
deposit. Sir Walter the Pennyless now took the command of the dispirited
crusaders. They at length reached Constantinople; and never had pilgrims
suffered greater hardships, or encountered more dangerous adventures.

Peter the Heniiit commenced his jom-ney soon after the departure of the
company headed by Sir Walter of Pereio. In his progress he was joined by two
German noblemen and fifteen thousand people of the inferior classes. Before he
had passed the boundaries of Germany, his host amounted to forty thousand ; and
at the head of this he entered Hungary. . The promise which he gave the king,
that no rapine should be committed by the crusaders whom he led, was faithfully
observed. But some of the pilgrims having been cruelly treated in the town of
Semlin, Peter resolved to avenge them. Several of the bravest of his followers
attacked the fortress — took it, and slew a lai'ge portion of the inhabitants. No less
than four thousand are said to have been slaughtered on one day. The crasaders
obtained the victory with little loss ; and the storehouses of the town furnished
them with abundance of provisions, and with luxuries to which they had hitherto
been strangers.

It can scarcely create surprise that a rude multitude, like that which followed the
hermit, should easily v-ield to the temptations by which they were now sun-ounded.
Sm'feited with sudden plenty, astonished to find themselves conquerors, and in
possession of a noble city, the vision of Jerusalem grew fainter every day. At
length news arrived that the King of Hungary was on his mai-ch ; and that he was
accompanied by a body of troops sufficient to cut off the crusaders to a man.
Peter knew that no time was to be lost ; and rousing his people from their slumber,
he conducted them through the woods to Nissa. This place they reached, after a
journey of eight days ; and when Peter sent messengers to request pennission of
the prince to purchase food, he received a plentiful supply of provisions at a
moderate price, and many gifts for the support of the poorer of his followers

These circumstances may be taken as illustrative of the sentiments entertained by
the princes, through whose provinces the pilgrims and crusaders had to pass, in their
way to the Holy Land. But we have distressing proofs of the turbulent character
of many of these wanderers ; and one especially, in their conduct when treated so
generously by the Governor of Nissa. The very morning after their arrival, a

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 19

hundred Germans, unknown to Peter, left the camp, and destroyed seven mills,
under pretence of revenging some overcharge made by the Bulgarians in selling
provisions. Houses were tired by the same party ; and while Peter was quietly
pursuing his way with the main body of his followers, the inhabitants were
calling aloud to the prince to defend them from the barbarians. The cry was
attended to ; and the prince, hastily assembUng a troop of horsemen, took the road
along which the hermit was journeying, unsuspicious of danger. As little order
was observed in the march, several of the pilgrims were found separated from the
rest of the company, and immediately fell beneath the swords of the pursuers.
But not satisfied with this, the prince continued his course, and eventually many
hundreds of the wretched travellers were pierced through by the spears, or
trampled down by the horses of the enemy. Peter on the instant resolved to return
to Nissa, and justify himself from the charge brought against him through the
foUy or wickedness of his companions. But his hopes in this respect were
frustrated by the madness of the multitude. Obeying the impulse of their sudden
rage, they attacked the city, and slew many of the helpless inhabitants. For this
they suffered due punishment. The Prince of Nissa again put them to flight ; and
Peter in the evening saw himself smTounded by only a remnant of his companions.

Terrible were the privations suffered by the poor crusaders for some days
after this. Ten thousand had perished in the neighbom-hood of Nissa ; but
the mixed multitude, as the several divisions became united agtun in one
body, was found to amount to thirty thousand persons. With this concoui-se
of rude, undisciphned followers, had Peter to make his way through an almost
uninhabited country ; woods, and morasses, and an endless variety of rocky passes,
rendeiiug the journey one of extreme peril to such a host. The com, now nearly
ripe, which they found in some of the more open districts, was the only food they
could obtain. At length they beheld in the distance the walls and tower of some
strange city. Much as they had suffered from the inhabitants of Nissa, they were
thankful for the prospect of better fare than that which the mere fields afforded.
Faint and weary as they were, they quickened then march towai'ds the town. Nothing
could be more discoinraging than the appearance of its environs ; not a sound was
to be heard; not a hving creature could be seen. The gates were open; they
entered the place, and found that the inhabitants had forsaken it, leaving not the
slightest article of food behind them.

Despair seemed ready to seize upon the astonished people when they saw their
hopes thus cruelly disappointed. But their leader retained his presence of mind,
and enthusiastic determination to fulfil his calling. The encouragement which he
gave his followers to look for some speedy improvement in their circumstances,
was unexpectedly justified by the arrival of messengers from the Emperor Alexius.
They brought him intelligence that then master was ready to afford the pilgrims
any assistance in their journey ; the only stipulation being that they should not

20 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

tany more than tliree days in one place. This precaution, rendered so necessarj
by the late proceedings of the crusaders, affords a striking illustration of their
character and condition, and of the difficulty attending the progress of such a class
of people to the Holy Land.

So gi-eat had been Peter's distress at the peiils and sufferings of his followers,
that when the emperor's intentions were announced to him, he wept for joy, and
knelt down in the presence of his companions to bless God for their wonderful
deliverance. Gold and promions, horses, mules, and carriages, met the travellers
at the several stations by which they passed. On the first of August they arrived
at the encampment near the imperial city, formed shortly before by the brave knight,

Sir Walter.

Alexius counselled Peter to be satisfied with accompUshing so much of his design
as consisted in leading his band to the confines of Syria. The emperor was too
well acquainted with the power of the enemy, not to perceive the hopelessness of
an attempt to encounter him mth a force like that which was now assembled. He
Hstened, it is said, with reverential dehght to the discourse of Peter. He saw in
him the elements of a great and vigorous character ; but at the same time, he dis-
covered how sadly he had miscalculated the means which he possessed of either
meeting the enemy, or controlling the undisciplined multitude wliich professed to
obey his orders-

In vain, however, did Alexius press his advice on the hermit. He was compelled
to obey the passionate demands of his rude host to be led forward without delay.
No representations could induce them to wait till the army now assembling, under
the leadership of Godfi-ey of Boulogne, should arrive in the East. Finding his
efforts useless, the emperor no longer resisted the general feeling, but again supphed
the crusaders with the means of pursuing their route. For two months Peter kept
his followers comparatively tranquil in the neighbourhood of Helenopolis. A fierce
dispute then arose between the French and German divisions of the band. The
mischief to be apprehended from this dissension subdued even the bold and hopeflil
spuit of the hermit. He intimated the necessity of his revisiting Constantinople
for a time ; and left the sole command to Walter.

No sooner was Peter gone than a party of the crusaders, chiefly French, hastened
to attack Nicaa. They were successfiil ; and the sight of the booty with which
they returned, stimulated the Germans to undertake a similar enterprise. This also
succeeded ; and the determination was formed of establishing a camp sufficiently
strong to resist the reprisals of the enemy till the arrival of the great army from
Europe. But the Turkish Sultan, Arslan, had not looked idly on. He sent a troop
against the Germans, which overthrew them with a dreadful slaughter. The attempt
of the French to avenge their brethren was attended with equal ruin to themselves.
They fought long and desperately. But their leaders fell in the hopeless strife ; and
only three thousand of the whole multitude escaped the sword of the Turk. This

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 21

little band fortified itself in an old castle, till Peter, hearing of the calamity which
had happened, induced the emperor to send a force for their relief. By this means
they were delivered from the destruction which every day awaited them ; and thauk-
fiiUy allowed themselves to be led back to Constantinople. Faint and spirit-broken,
they now desii^ed notliing so much as to retrace their steps along the weary way
which they had so fruitlessly traversed. But they had no resources out of which to
supply themselves with the commonest necessaries. At last the happy thought
struck them of selling what few arms they possessed to the emperor. Alexius readily
purchased the weapons offered him; and the poor crusaders immediately began
their jomney homewards.

Another attempt to reach the Holy Land, and deliver its Christian inhabitants
from their oppressors, was made by a band of fifteen thousand armed men, led by a
German priest named Gottschalk. On their arrival in Hungary, the disorderly
spirit of many among them began to display itself When the means of enjoying
themselves in boisterous revelry were exhausted, they commenced a system of
plunder against the inhabitants. The King of Hungary, by a flattering message to
Gottschalk, persuaded him to represent to his followers, that if they would pursue
their joiumey as simple travellers, and unarmed, benevolence and hospitality would
be exercised towards them, instead of revenge. Gottschalk was deceived. No
sooner had his people laid down their arms, than a body of troops rushed forth, and
slew them almost to a man.

A company of French pilgrims succeeded to the ill-fated band conducted by the
German priest. The ignorance and licentiousness of this party are said to have
been much greater than those of the people led by Peter the Hermit or Gottschalk.
They were fanatics of the worst kind. Depending upon their imaginary holiness
and heroism, they would have no earthly leader. But their mysticism instructed
them to place a goose and a goat at the head of their ranks. The Jews were the first
to suffer from this rude multitude, whose fierceness was even greater than their rude-
ness. At Cologne and Mayence the attacks upon that unhappy people were charac-
terised by almost inconceivable barbarity. When the slaughter in the former place
threatened to become general, two hundred of them escaped on board a vessel in
the river. But when the murder of their brethren was accomplished, they were
dragged back to the city, and there shared the fate of the rest.

At Mayence, the good archbishop Rothardt, pitying the condition of the Jews,
strove to protect both their lives and property. He ordered their goods to be put
into a secure place ; and then invited them to come and seek refuge in the apart-
ments of his palace. But even some of his own relations were among those who
sought to enrich themselves by the slaughter of the Jews. Aided by them, the
travellers to the Holy Land broke down the doors of the archbishop's residence ;
and making their way to the rooms in which the Jews were assembled, murdered
thpm to the number of seven hundred. At Worms they were offered protection by

92 THE CHKTSTIAN IN PALESTINE.

the bishop, but in a less generous spirit than at Mayence. The profeiTed defence
was to be granted on condition that they to whom it was offered should become
Christians. Time was required by the Jews to consider the offer. They entered
the bishop's hall, and were supposed to be in earnest debate. Their return to the
conference was eagerly expected. The appointed hour passed by. A messenger
was sent to hasten them. They were all foimd dead, having, it appeared, slaughtered
each other by mutual consent.

The blood of the poor Jews seemed to cry for vengeance, and when the multitude,
which was increased to above two himdred thousand before it reached the borders
of Hungary, entered that country, the hour of retribution was at hand. Having
arrived before the gates of Messburg, the crusaders were informed that they would
not be permitted to pursue their route till they had given a solemn pledge that they
would commit no violence on the way. These reasonable demands were treated
with contempt. Messburg was besieged by the tumultuous host. Their vast num-
ber and fanatical rage made up for the want of discipline. The city was on the
point of being entered, when a sudden panic seized the minds of the crusaders ; and
without, as it would seem, a reason, they ceased from the attack, and tm-ning from
the walls fled precipitately to their encampment. Not a moment was lost by the
Hungarians. They saw the confusion of the crusaders, and pursued them with
such vigour, that in a few hours nearly the whole were either slain or taken
prisoners.

Such were the various classes of pilgrims, who, from the age of Constantine, that
is, from the beginning of the fourth century to the latter part of the eleventh, con-
tinued to traverse the roads from Europe to Palestine. Their success was as various
as their characters. Some reached the Holy Land, glowing with a faith and devo-
tion which had increased as they continued to journey on. In the fulfilment of
their vows, they had experienced the deepest delight of contrite and eaniest souls ;
and though, on the one hand, they had obeyed the superstitious influences of a
superstitious age, they had, on the other, advanced, personally, in the love of the
gospel, and sincere desne to obey the will of the Redeemer. Others there were
whose strongest motive for ^asiting the Holy Land was furnished by curiosity, or the
love of excitement. Their journeys were not without profit. The stock of general
knowledge was increased thereby. An acquaintance with scenes and characters
was acquired, which could scarcely have been obtained by other means. Some
degree of intercourse between distant provinces was estabhshed ; and this led, as we
have seen, in the coiu-se of time, to the facilitating of commercial enterprise, and to
other practical results of great importance to advancing civilization.

The agitation which attended the preparation for the Crusades ; the tumultuous
nassions which were then associated with the religious feeling, interrupted the gra-
dual develoument of many a valuable principle, involved in the affectionate reverence
entertaijied for the Holy Land by pious and meditative minds. In the expeditions

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 23

undertaien by those who followed Peter the Hermit and the priest Gottschalk, the
only valuable associations were destroyed or overpowered by licentiousness on the
one side, and by fear, disappointment, or disgust on the other. Those who escaped
with their lives had a storj' to relate far different to that which had so often warmed
the hearts of patient listeners, when the pilgrims of earher times returned to their
native land. They had to speak indeed of perils, of strange adventure and melan-
choly mishaps ; but there was no proper mention of divine manifestations, or of that
wonderful experience of the power of faith, in which the true and consecrated pilgrim
delighted to find the evidence of his own calling, and the characteristic sign of its
worth and dignity. The greater part of the multitude who now went forth, were
only greedy adventurers, or ignorant fanatics, incapable almost of thought or in-
quiry. Their ill-timed and still worse planned expeditions served to increase the
difficulties of a journey to Palestine. Every province through which they passed
suffered firom their violence and rapacity. Hence the name of a Christian pilgrim
was becoming more odious every day ; and instead of its being regarded, as it once
was, in the light of a pledge for the fiilfilment of every duty, it now inspired doubt
and alarm ; and men trembled at the approach of such travellers as they would at
that of bainditti.

A state of things was thus created which might of itself have ruined the hopes
of those who only desired to visit in oeacefui secmity the sacred scenes of divine
history. When it was determined that every pDgrim should be a soldier, and that
no time should be given to the indulgence of holy meditation, till Palestine had
become a Christian possession, a change was produced for awhile on the subject of
the Holy Land, which left scarcely a trace of the deep and often delicate sentiments
which characterised the better class of the earher pilgrims.

But greatly as the preparations for the Crusades altered, and, in many respects,
deteriorated the tone of feeling which prevailed among the travellers to Palestine,
there is much to admire as well as surprise us, in the mighty movement which stirred
all Europe at this time, and awakened and employed the best energies of its noblest
spirits for the one sole object of protecting those who desired to worship at the Holy
Sepulchre ; to ascend the steeps of Calvary or Tabor; to join in spirit the wise men,
and the shepherds, giving to the Savioiur the gold and frankincense and myrrh of
faithful hearts. When it is considered that the only wish entertained by far the
greater number of those who were preparing for the Crusades was this, of opening
Palestine as a sanctuary to their fellow-behevers, it is impossible not to feel that the
sentiment in itself was grand and elevated; and that if it had been properly directed,
it might have led to many results favourable to the highest interests of humanity.

It is evident that never had the Holy Land been regarded with more reverence
or with a deeper love, than it was at this period. The feeling with which the
children of Israel contemplated its hills and valleys, its flowing brooks, and their
sacred Jordan, was not more fervent than that with which the inhabitants of France,

24 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

Italv, Gei-many, and England now in spirit looked towards its shores, and resolved
to make for themselves a home in the city of the Great King. Never was a more
signal proof given of the power with wliich historical associations work, at particular
seasons, upon the great mass of human minds. Not a spot in the whole world was
viewed with such feelings as those which now filled the hearts of miUions at the bare
mention of Palestine ; and these emotions had their birth and nourishment in those
few great incidents of Holy Scripture which have, in later times, been contemplated
with every varying degree of religious earnestness, but so rarely in connexion with
any peculiar sentiment in regard to Palestine. We may account, in some measure,
for the condition of the Holy Land at different periods by watching the rise and
decay, and then the revival, of that passionate reverence for its name, which has,
from time to time, affected Christians of the most distant countries.

-5:

^■

-^
^

THE ROAD TO JERUSALEM.

FKOM TKIPOLI TO ACRE.

Before proceeding to describe the changes produced in the state of the Holy
Land by the Crusades, and subsequent events, we will take a brief survey of the
line of country along which the earliest pilgrims journeyed on their way to
Jerusalem. The accomphshed and pious Roman lady, Paula, according to the
account given of her pilgrimage by St. Jerome, travelled through the whole of the
district, extending from the northernmost part of the land to the capital. It must
have been with a solemn feehng that she surveyed the scenery in the neighbour-
hood of Tripoh. No part of the country is of a more marked character, or more
calculated to dehght a mind disposed to meditation. Alluding to this spot, and
to the ruined sepulchres which are scattered about, Shaw remarks * that it " has
something in it so extravagant, and so peculiar to itself, that it can never fail
to contribute an agreeable mixture of melancholy and dehght to all who pass
through it. The uncommon contrast and disposition of woods and sepulchres,
rocks and grottoes ; the medley of sounds and echoes from birds and beast, cascades
and waterfalls ; the distant roaring of the sea, and the composed solemnity of
the whole place, very natiu-ally remind us of those beautiful descriptions which
the ancient poets have left us, of the groves and retreats of their rural deities." Almost
immediately after leaving this wild and interesting scene, the stranger finds himself
on the borders of a wide, extending plain, the aspect of which at once indicates
its ancient fertiUty and beauty. As the eye wanders over its noble expanse, that
sweetest and grandest of descriptive titles, " the Land of Promise," rises to the
mind, and awakens many a lively vision of the past glory of the soU, which the
dew of the divine blessing fertilized. Travellers tell us that the ruins of numerous
watch-towers lie scattered over the plain. They were erected, it is probable,
when the happy times of peace and prosperity were drawing to a close ; and it
became necessary to guard more vigilantly the labours of the husbandman against
the incursions of the wild borderers of the desert.

" The people of the country," says Maundrell, " call this district lunia, that is,
the plain, which name they give it by way of eminency, upon account of its vast
extent. We were full seven hours in passing it ; and found it all along exceeding
• Travels or Observations relating to several Parts of Barbary and the Levant. Tom. ii. p. 268.

26 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

fruitful, by reason of the many rivers and the great plenty of water which it enjoys.
Of these rivers, the first is about six hours before you come to Tripoli. It has
a stone bridge over it, of three large arches ; and is the biggest in the whole plain ;
for which reason it goes by the name of Nahor il Kibber, or the Great River. About
half-an-hour further, you come to another river, called Nahor Abrosh, or the
Leper's River. In three-quarters of an hour more, you pass a third river, called
Nahor Acchar, hadng a handsome stone bridge, of one very large arch, laid
ever it. Two good hours more bring you to a fourth river, called the Nahor el
Berd, or the Cold Waters.*

Tliis last-mentioned river is described by Shaw as rising among the northern
eminences of Mount Libanus, and as deriving its name from the supphes which
it receives from the liquified snows of the mountains.f He also contends that
it is identical with the river known in ancient writers as the Eleuthems, and
conjectures that in tliis neighbourhood may be fixed the boundary-line between
Syria and Phoenicia.

The ancient Tripoli was situated upon a low cape, called a peninsula, and
enjoyed the advantage of a safe harbour. It owed its origin to the united efforts
of the three cities, Aradus, Sidon, and Tyre, and hence its name. The present
town is half a league distant from the ancient city, and is said to have long
enjoyed a considerable trade, arising both from its own manufactories in silk and
cotton, and firom the productions of Aleppo and Damascus. Later travellers %
speak well of the present appearance of this place. " When about an hour's distance
from TripoU, we passed through some very rich inclosed gardens. Tripoli itself
is the greatest town we had seen in Syria, the houses being all well built of stone,
and neatly constructed within. It is seated at the foot of the moimtains, at some
distance firom the sea-shore, and is surrounded by luxuriant gardens, producing
innumerable oranges and lemons."

In the seventeenth centurj, Tripoli, according to the accomplished French
traveller, d'Arvieux, abounded in signs of wealth and luxury. The fortifications
-aised by Godfrey of Bouillon were still tolerably preserved; and the whole
city bore the appearance of a place of which the inhabitants had retained no
inconsiderable share of the advantages springing from the early intercourse of
the East and West. Most of the houses were elegantly built, sjjarkling fountains
diffused a refreshing coolness through the apartments ; the mode of living was
answerable to the style of building and furniture ; and the inhabitants of Tripoli,
says the chevalier, had the manners of people well acquainted with the elegancies of
social life.

A reason, however, is given for the absence of French residents from this place,

* Journey from Aleppo to Jerusalem, p. 24. f p. 2/0.

t Irby and Mangles. Travels in Syria, p. 207.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 27

which shows that its commercial prosperity rested on a very insecure foundation.
Excited by jealousy or avarice, some governor of the city had suddenly seized the
French merchants and their goods, and while he appropriated the latter to his own
use, he caused the unfortunate merchants to be cast into the wells about the town
and left them to perish. The Grand Vizier, it is said, on hearing of the occurrence
ordered the wicked governor to be strangled ; but it was a long time before the
French could be induced to trust themselves again to so perilous a position.*

TripoU, witliin the last few years, measured about two miles in circumference ; and
has been ranked as to size and population immediately after Aleppo, Damascus,
and Jerusalem. It contains four Christian churches ; that is, two Greek, one
Maronite, and one Latin in the con\'ent of the Capuchins, the only Latin order
known at Tripoli for many ages, and who were so respected in the time of d'Ar-
vieux for their piety and simphcity, that the Tui'ks themselves rendered them offices
of charity. There are eleven mosques, one of which is described as a noble
specimen of the old Saracenic order ; while the tombs which adorn the extensive
cemeteries in the neighbourhood rival in beauty those of Smyrna and Constanti-
nople.

On leaving TripoU, a narrow valley, with huge dark mountains on the one side,
and the rocky shore of a stormy sea on the other, extends to the ancient city of
Bostrys, now called Batroun, a httle town containing about a hundred houses ; and
fiirther on, to that of Byblus, or Djebail, supposed to be the place refen-ed to in
Joshua, and the Book of Kings.t Here the country assumes a softer aspect ; and
ancient fable and romance supply traditions which mingle strangely with the sub-
lime records of genuine history. The river Adonis stUl rolls its waves amid scenes
well calculated to inspire poetic melancholy, and to revive, in imaginative minds,
the visions of the old mythology.

Numerous villages and well-cultivated lands intervene between this spot and
the town of Berytus or Beirout, which stands on a triangular point of the coast,
jutting for three or four miles into the Bay of Kesraoun. This celebrated town
formed one of the resting-places in Paula's pilgrimage, and was probably visited by
most of the earlier travellers in Palestine, not merely because it lay in their road to
Jenisalem, but because of its vast importance as a populous and wealthy city. It
is doubtftil whether it was a place of any consequence, or whether it even existed in
the ancient times of the Jewish nation. The only town spoken of in Scripture as
probably identical with Beirout is Berothath. But it was well known to the clas-
sical writers, and in the reign of Augustus it rose to the rank of a Roman colony.
Favoured by situation and political circumstances, it had become distinguished in
the earUest ages of Christianity for its schools of learning. The most accomplished

* Memoires dii Chevalier d'Arvieux, p. 38!).
t Joshua, xxiii. 5. 1 Kings, v. 18.

28 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

scholars of the time taught in its academies; and law and philosophy flourished
there for centuries after their decUne in other more noted seminaries. In the
history of the Christian church, it is celebrated for having matured the genius of
some of its noblest champions. Gregory Thaumaturgus prepared himself in its
schools for the singular struggles which he endured, in his conflict with heathen
power and prejudice ;* and though in a later age Berytus shared the growing dark-
ness and superstition, it still occupied a conspicuous station as one of the favoured
retreats of Christian learning and piety.

The beauty of the country around Beirout, may in great measure account for
the notice which it acquired, and for its long-continued prosperity. From the ver-
dant hUls which rise in its immediate neighbourhood the view stretches over a plain
of vast extent, till it rests on the glistening crags and peaks of Lebanon. In the
environs of the town, the plantations of mulberry-trees, the rich orchards and
gardens, give an air of luxurious tranquillity to the place, which, without any his-
torical associations, might tempt a wanderer in search of peace and nature's sweetest
influences, to regard Beirout and its valleys as the best spot he could choose for his
home.

Happily for this interesting city, and for the Christian travellers of the middle
ages, who sought repose within its walls, the crusaders in their first expedition did
not encamp before it with hostile intentions. If we may believe the chronicles of
the times, they were easily induced, by the offer of the governor to furnish them
with suppUes, to leave it unassailed. It was not till ten years after that Beirout had
to endure the horrors of a siege. King Baldwin was then obliged to employ the
choicest of his troops in the attack, and nearly eleven weeks elapsed before he
succeeded in gaining possession of the place. It was several times after this taken
and retaken by the Saracens and Christians, till it finally fell into the hands of the
infidels at the close of the thirteenth century.

The history of Beirout affords an interesting proof of the power of a commercial
town, favoured by position and other natural advantages, to rise superior to the worst
calamities. In the course of two or three hundred years it was again and again
sacked and plundered, its inhabitants put to the sword, and its edifices levelled with
the ground. But no sooner were its new masters settled within its walls, than its
prosperity returned. Its port was filled with ships from all the trading countries of
the East and West. Merchants from the remotest provinces thronged its mart;
and the ever-returning glory of its orchards and garden-covered hUls seemed but as
an emblem of the life of its commerce and social welfare.

Even in modern times Beirout has given evidence of its superiority to most of the

other toAvns of Syria. Notwithstanding the evils which have fallen to its lot from

war, pestilence, and earthquakes, it stdl occupies a rank among the most important

of Eastern marts. Consuls fi-om every quarter of the world are found there ; and

• Stebbing's History of Christ's Universal Church, during the Primitive Times. Chap. vi. p. 206.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 29

if happier times should come, and Palestine should itself again have a place
among nations, Beirout may change its present poor and humble aspect, its ill-
paved streets and wretched dweUings, for the magnificence which would become a
city which has lived through so many revolutions.*

After leaving Beirout, says MaundreU,t we came in one-third of an hour to a large
plain extending from the sea to the mountains. At the beginning of the plain is a
grove of pine-trees of Faccardini'sl plantation. We guessed it to be more than
half-a-mile across ; and so pleasant and inviting was its shade, that it was not with-
out some regret we passed it by. Continuing on this plain, we saw at a distance,
on our left hand, a small village called Suckfoat. It belongs to the Druses, who
possess, at this da}-, a long tract of mountains as far as fi-om Castraven to Carmel.
Their present prince is Achmet, grandson to Faccardini, an old man, and one who
keeps up the custom of his ancestors of turning day into night: an hereditary prac-
tice in his family, proceeding from a traditional persuasion amongst them, that
princes can never sleep secui'ely but by day, when men's actions and designs are
best observed by their guards, and, il' need be, most easily prevented : but that Ln
the night it concerns them to be always vigilant, lest the darkness, aided by their
sleeping, should give traitors both opportunity and encouragement to assault their
persons, and by a dagger or pistol make them continue their sleep longer than they
intended when they lay down.

The pine-grove spoken of by Maundi'ell, is said by the Chevalier d'Ar\ie»ix,§ to
have conferred upon this neighbourhood a far greater blessing than that of a mere
cool and refreshing shade. Before the time when Faccardini planted it, the sur-
rounding district was perpetually a prey to pestilence. This was occasioned, it is
said, by the dense vapours which were blowii in a mass among the hUls about the
town, and which remaining there poisoned the atmosphere. When the pine grove
rose to a sufficient height, the progress of the vapoms was interrupted ; and they
were dispersed by the rays of the sun, before lodging their pernicious dews among
the hills.

Faccardini, we are told, regarded Beirout as his pleasure-garden ; and as his sub-
jects were happy and prosperous under his government, they followed his example,
and employed both their wealth and taste in cultivating the lovely district which
they inhabited with more than ordinary care. This state of tilings did not last long,
but the neighbourhood has never entirely lost the vestiges of those prosperous
days.

• The late war has again involved Beirout and the neighbouring cities in ruin ; but hopes are enter-
tained that the sources of recovery and improvement are far from being exhausted.

t Journey from Aleppo to Jerusalem, p. 43.

1 Faccardini, or Fakhr-ed-Din, was a famous chief, who by his prowess and good policy inatlo Iiim-
Belf master of the whole of the district around Beiiout.

§ Memoires dn Chevalier d'Arvieux. Tom. il. p. 333.

80 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

About thirty years back, the commerce of Beirout was said to be greater than that
of any other port in Syria. In 1815, three vessels anived from Malta, laden with
British manufactured goods to the amount of fifty -thousand dollars, and all of which
was purchased for ready money within five days after the anival of the ships.*

The road out of Benout soon becomes wild and sandy ; but the scenery derives
grandeur fi-om the chain of mountains on the East, and interest from the numerous
proofs afforded of the fertihty of the surrounding plains, and of the industry of the
people. A magnificent ohve-grove, said to be the largest in the country, and
numerous groves of mulberry-trees, help to soften the ruggedness of the way, till the
pilgrim reach the river Damouras, or, as it was anciently called, the Tamyras. Here
again, as in so many other parts of Palestine, the traveller is reminded of some of the
most remai-kable incidents in ancisnt history ; for it was on the banks of this stream,
that Antiochus the Great met the forces of the Egyptian king Ptolemj^, and gained
one of his most important victories. The mountains which thus far serve only to
give dignity to the scenery, now cast their deeper shadows over the path of the way-
farer. Their roots are beneath his feet ; and the craggy rocks and stonny waves
seem to grudge the narrow path which he is traversing.

Two or three miles from the town of Seide, or Sidon, the river El-Aoula, crosses
the road, and the country assumes an aspect of fertility and cheerfulness. Like
most other districts in which the open plain succeeds to mountains and their narrow
passes, this offers to the traveller a prospect calculated to inspire new and pleasant
hopes ; while the lovely gardens and plantations immediately surrounding the town,
serve to prove that the inhabitants and their forefathers have not neglected to take
advantage of the bounties which nature showers upon them.

Sidon boasts of an antiquity equal to that of any city in the world. It was
founded by the son of Canaan immediately after the deluge, and rapidly acqiuied
an extent and importance, which remained unimpaired for many ages. In the
days of its prosperity, its suburbs reached to the foot of Anti-Libanus ; and
merchants from all parts of the world assembled in its marts to exchange the
conunodities of their several countries for those of the east. Tyre did not refuse
to honour it as the parent of its own grandeur, and the influence which it
exercised in all matters connected with the diffusion of luxmy and the arts was
universally acknowledged.

In the distribution of the land among the tribes of Israel, Sidon fell to the lot
of Asher, but the original inhabitants offered effectual resistance to the weak and
irresolute assailants. When Nebuchadnezzar invaded Syria, it was one of the
first to feel the power of his arms. The wealth which it had been heaping up for

* Buckingham : Travels among the Arab Tribes, j). -142.

t Josephus Antiq. B. I.e. 12.

t Doubdan. Voyage de la Terre Sainte. Paris ICoy.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 31

ages, the splendour with which it was adorned, the piide of its merchants and
princes, all vanished at a single blow of the conqueror's sword. Having recovered,
in the course of after years, some semblance of its former prosperity, it was taken
by Alexander the Great, who, bj' a sort of noble caprice, was induced to exalt
a poor gardener, said to have been of royal extraction, to the office of governor.

Our Lord was frequently in the immediate neighbourhood of Sidon, but the
idolatry and wickedness of the inhabitants, or rather the particular design of his
own personal ministry, would not allow him to enter its gates. Happily for
the inhabitants, the word of life was kept from them only for a brief period. St.
Paul, on his way to Rome, remained there some days ; and doubtless made known
to all who were ready to listen to his preaching, the mysteries of salvation.

Sidon, from its situation and its consequent importance, suffered greatly during
the wars of the Crusades. St. Louis employed his best efforts to restore its pros-
perity. It at length fell into the hands of the Knights Templars, who retained
it till the close of the thirteenth century, when they hastily retreated before the
power of the Mussulmans.

Le Pere Doubdan, who visited this city in the year 1651, describes it as then
exhibiting no inconsiderable degree of mercantile activity.* The French merchants
carried on a large traffic, he says, in silks and cotton. Merchants from other nations
had also their mart there ; and the bazaar, or market, which consisted of several
streets, was fiill of little shops, displaying a vast variety of figured stuffs for
turbans, slippers, vests, and other garments. Formerly, the harbour was sufficiently
commodious to admit vessels of great burden. It has now for ages been so fiUed
up with ruins and drifting sands, as to allow only the smaUest boats to approach
the town, the merchantmen being obliged to discharge their cargo, while seeking
very imperfect shelter behind the huge rocks which line the coast.

Surrounding the city and by the side of the sea, says the same traveller, are
gardens and plantations abounding in fi-uits of every description, as apricots,
oranges, citrons, palms, mulberries, figs, pomegranates, and tamarinds. In the
midst of the hfe and beauty of these magnificent gai-dens, he found several
remains of ancient bmldings, and among them fragments of columns, which
bore traces of Latin inscriptions. Tliis was also the case in his rambles about
the little village which bears the same name as the city, and near whicli was the
burial-place of the Christians, and the little chapel possessed by the Mai'onites.

Sidon, as described by modem travellers, extends for about a mile along
the sea-shore, and for about hah'-a-mile up the adjacent hills. An old castle
which refers its origin to the time of the Crusades, and another dilapidated
edifice of similar character overhanging a ledge of rocks, serve greatly to increase
the picturesque effect of a scene in itself striking and interesting. The air
of this neighboiirliood is spoken of as peculiarly salubrious ; and the inhabitants,

* Voyage de la Terre Sainte. p. 580.

82 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

computed to amount to betwecD seven and eight thousand, are well supplied with
the necessaries of life from the waters of the coast, abounding in fish, and from
the richly cultivated plains of Esdraelon and Zabulon.

The road from Sidon towards Tyre conducts the traveller over a broad and fruitful
plain, still marked by indications of the former presence of Roman armies and
magistrates. At the distance of about three hours from Sidon lies the town of
Sarphan, occupying some part of the site of Sarepta, venerable for its connexion
with the history of Elijah. This city was formerly a place of considerable import-
ance, but now consists of only a few poor houses, and the scattered ruins of edifices
long levelled with the dust. Tradition points out the spot where the prophet is
said to have met the poor widow gathering sticks ; and St. Jerome particulaily
mentions Sarepta as one of the places sought by the devout pilgrim.

Not far from this town, a wild ridge of rocks afforded in former times a solemn
retreat for several monks, whose cells were formed in the holes of the cliff, and
amounted in the time of Le Pere Naud to the number of a hmidred. They have
the appearance of sepulchres, and probably were so originally ; but by some
labour and ingenuity they were connected with each other, and served the purpose
of a regular monastery. No situation could be found better calculated to nourish
those melancholy feelings with which many of the earlier travellers visited the
Holy Land. The darkness of the grave and the terrors of the cross, were both
imaged in the narrow cells inhabited by the recluses of these mountains.

Between this district and Tyre, runs the river Casimeer, a deep and rapid stream,
supposed by some, but erroneously, to be the same with the Eleutherus. Tyre
is about an hour's journey from this river; and, according to MaundreU, presents
at a distance so striking an appearance, that the traveller forgets for the moment
that he is approachmg, not the city whose " merchants were princes," but a poor
and wretched town, which has suffered every calamity which war and oppression
can inHict. But, according to a later writer, the modem Soor, whether from the
sea, from the hills, from the north, or from the south, has nothing to attract attention.
The island on which it stands is as low as the isthmus which coimects it with
the main land, and like this, all its unoccupied parts present a sandy and barren
soil. The monotony of its giey and flat-roofed buildings is reUeved only by the
minaret of one mosque with two low domes near it, the ruins of an old christian
church, the squaie tower without, the town to the southward, or south-east of
it, and a few date-trees scattered here and there among the houses.*

The foundations of Tyre, or Soor, its most ancient and its present name, were

laid by Tyro, the seventh son of Japhet, and only a year after the deluge. Its

position and rapidly increasing wealth, pointed it out to the wisest princes of

' antiquity as well deserving their notice. Thus it is recorded that Phoenix,

son of Antenor, and Cadmus, the supposed inventor of letters, expended vast sums

* Buckingham, Travels in Palestine, p. 46.

THK CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINK. 33

ill improving both the city and harbour. The very origin of navigation is ascribed
to the inhabitants of this place : nor are there wanting indications of its having
been the earliest of cities to commence that traflie with other coimtries, to which
many nations of the world are indebted for their cinlization, and perhaps even for
their existence. Such was the population of Tyre in the time of Alexander the
Great, that when he at length overcame the valour of its defenders, after eight
thousand men had been slain within the walls, thirty thousand remained as cap-
tives.

Soon after Tyre became a Christian possession, it was constituted an arch-
bishopric ; and embraced within its province the important dioceses of Behout
Sidon, Sarepta, and Ptolemais. Tradition points to some ruins on the eastern
side of the city as the remains of a chmxh built on the spot where our Lord
stood and preached, when the woman ciied out, in the fiihiess of her joy and faith,
" Blessed is the womb that bare thee ! " So too it is said, that the " well of hving
water," spoken of in the Canticles, may be seen about a league distant from the city,
towards the south, in the village of Ras-el-Ain. This well, as described by a
traveller* who visited it in the seventeenth century, was very deep, and overflowed
with such a copious stream as to turn a mill. Close to the well was a reservoir
formed of beautifully-sculptured marble ; and in this the Turks, it is said, perfonned
their ablutions, belie^ang in the efficacy of the waters to cleanse them from their
sins. Numerous ruins show that this spot was once the favourite retreat of wealth
and greatness. Beautiful gardens once covered the whole site ; and the more ima-
ginative traveller seems still to hear, as he reads on this spot the song of songs,
the plaintive echoes of past dehght. That no part of the inclosure might be without
the means of inigation, a noble aqueduct was formed, the finest, it is said, in the
East, and by this the waters from Mount Lebanon were conducted to the remotest
portion of the grounds. t

Tyre itself is situated on an island distant from the main 'and near half-a-mUe.
Alexander the Great formed and executed the project of connecting the city
with the shore by means of a mole. The waves of the Mediterranean have
for countless ages washed the foundations of this ancient emporium of the old
world's commerce. But they break harmlessly against them, as if it were specially
intended that some relic of the past should here continue to speak of buried
greatness. The eloquent Chateaubriand having landed not far ti-om this part of the
coast, says, " I spent part of the night in contemplating this sea of Tyre, which
is called in Scripture the Great Sea, and which bore the fleets of the royal prophet
when they went to fetch the cedars of Lebanon and the purple of Sidon ; that
sea, where leviathan leaves traces behind him like abysses ; that sea to which

• Eugene Boger: Recollect. Missionare de Barbarie. La Terre Sainte, p. 49. Paris, 1664.
t No modern traveller gives credit to the account given by Eugene Roger and others of the origin
of the vv'ells at Kas-el-Ain.

84 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

the Lord set barriers and gates; that affrighted deep, which beheld God and
fled. This was neither the wild ocean of Canada, nor the playful waves of Greece.
To the south extended that Egypt, into which the Lord came riding upon a swift
cloud, to dry up the channels of the Nile and to overthrow the idols ; to the north
was seated that queen of cities whose merchants were princes. ' Howl ye
ships of Tarshish, for your strength is laid waste.'

" But this was not all. The sea which I contemplated washed the shores of
Galilee on my right and the plain of Ascalon on my left. In the former I met with
the traditions of the patriarchal life and of the nativity of our Saviour. In the
latter I discovered memorials of the Crusades and the shades of the heroes of
Jerusalem. It was with reluctance that I withdrew my eyes from that sea which
revives so many recollections."

Old Tyre stood on the main land, and is the city alluded to in the most ancient
records. Pococke, in speaking of the fountains of Solomon, says, " Near the north-
east of the great bay, which is south of Tyre, there is a fountain inclosed in the
same manner as the others, except that the walls are not so high ; and I saw
the foundations and remains of an aqueduct, which appears to have been low, and
not to have been built on arches. It probably went to old Tyre, which seems
to have been in the comer of the bay ; because near the spring there is a little
hill, which, in all probability, is the very mount that Nebuchadnezzar raised in
order to take the city, which was destroyed, as described by the prophet Ezekiel,
c. xxvi. 7. And I saw a ruin to the south-east of this hill. It is no wonder that
there are no signs of the ancient city, since Alexander carried all the remains
of it away, in order to join new Tyre to the continent; and as it is a sandy shore
the face of everything is altered, and the great aqueduct in many parts is almost
buried in the sand."

Some doubt is entertained whether the island on which Tyre is built was
originally, as is stated, half-a-mile from the main land. " If it was," says Pococke,
" it must have been a very small island, and a work of great expense to join it to the
continent." The city which the King of Babylon besieged was on the main land.
Even then, indeed, the island, it is remarked, must have been inhabited, mention
being made of it in Scriptme and elsewhere, as populous in the time of Solomon ; *
but the prophecy that Tyre should be built no more, must be understood of the
ancient city on the continent.

" There are some few remains of the walls all round," says the same writer ; " and
of a port on the north side, defended by strong walls. At the east end, also, there
are ruins of two great square towers, very strongly built, which seem to have served
for reservoirs of water from the aqueduct, in order to distribute it all over the city,
for there are foundations of a thick wall from one to the other, which probably are

* Isaiah xxiii. 2, 6. Ezek. xxvi. 17- xxvii. 4, 32. xxviii. 2. Joseph. Autiq. riii. 2.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 35

remains of the aqueduct. The east of the city appears to have been defended by
three walls, and as many fosses.

" Within the walls there are great ruins of a very large church, built of hewn stone
both within and without, in the Syrian taste, with three naves, each of them ending
in a semicircle. There are also very perfect remains of several buildings to the
north of it, which probably belonged to the archiepiscopal palace. 1 also saw some
granite pillars, which, they say, are the remains of a church dedicated to St. John ;
and near it is the ruinous church of St. Thomas, part of which is repaired, and serves
as a church for two or three Christian families that are there. Besides these, there
are few other inhabitants, except some Janizaries, who live in the castle near the
port."

But the condition of Tyre has improved since the time of Maundrell and Pococke.
In 1815, it contained near eight-hundred substantial stone-built houses, having
courts and other conveniences, as well as several smaller habitations for the poor.
There were three bazaars, a mosque, and three Christian churches. The population
amounted, it is said, at the lowest computation, to between five and eight thousand
persons ; and a considerable trade was carried on both with the interior and with
the Greek islands.* Some travellers who visited Tyre in 1817 say, " We put up at
the house of an Arab, who called himself a Christian archbishop. The establish,
ment was a very humble one, as might be expected in so mean a place. The
prophecies of the fall of Tyre seem to be fulfilled in the present appearance of
Tsour, there being no vestige remaining of the ancient city but mere rubbish. The
isthmus which Alexander caused to be made for the prosecution of his attack on
the city, has now the appearance of being the work of nature. The port is much
choked up with mud. The walls and castle are visible : but I should strongly
suspect they are not the same which existed at the time when Tyre was in its glory ."i
Dr. Robertson, in his very interesting account of his visit to this city in June, 1838,
says, " Tyre has indeed become, like the top of a rock, a place to spread nets
upon. The sole remaining tokens of her more ancient splendour lie strewed
beneath the waves in the midst of the sea ; and the hovels which now nestle upon a
portion of her site, present no contradiction of the dread decree, ' Thou shalt be
built no more.' " Again : " The city lies only upon the eastern part of the island.
Between the houses and the western shore is a broad strip of open land, now given
up to tillage. This shore is strewed from one end to the other, along the edge of
the water and in the water, with columns of red and gray granite of various sizes,
the only remaining monuments of the splendour of ancient Tyre. At the N. W.
point of the island forty or fifty such columns are thi^own together in one heap
beneath the waves."

Remains of edifices belonging probably to the middle ages are found in other

* Buckingham's Travels, p. 47. t Irby and Mangles: Travels in Syria, p. 198.

Sf) THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

parts of the town. But the general appearance of the place must have undergone
considerable alteration within the last few years. The houses, for the most part,
are abodes of wi-etchedness ; and the population is estimated at less than three
thousand.

Many are the waiTiors and other distinguished men whose ashes are mingled with
the dust of tliis ancient city. The bones of Frederick Barbarossa were deposited in
the vaidts of its venerable cathedral. But greater than all the rest whose names are
mentioned in connexion with Tyre, was the profound and virtuous Origen, who here
ended a life devoted, from beginning to end, to the study of divine truth.

The road from Tyre towards Acre carries the traveller by the village of Ras-el-Ain,
<ielebrated for the fountains already spoken of. Numerous traces of the ancient
paved way are also visible ; and the ruins of a fort erected, it is probable, at a period
much anterior to that of the Crusades, though employed by the Christian princes as
a valuable place of defence. For a considerable distance the road runs along the
edge of the cliff, which beetles over the sea and forms a part of the celebrated
ladder of the Tyrians. The prospect from this elevated ground extends over the
magnificent plain of Acre, said to be fifteen miles in length and about five in breadth.
Here too is seen the little town of Zib, supposed to be the ancient Achzib. " Then
the coast tumeth to Ramah, and to the strong city Tyre. And the coast tumeth to
Hosah; and the out-goings thereof are at the sea, from the coast to Achzib."*
and, " neither did Asher drive out the inhabitants of Accho, nor the inhabitants ot
Zidon, nor of Ahlab, nor ot Achzib." f

Traces of superior cultivation increase as the traveller proceeds on his road to
Acre. The appearance of the peasants betokens comfort and plenty. Cottages
built of stone stand in the midst of weU-tiUed fields and olive-grounds ; and the
general state of the roads and naiTow causeways affords a fiuther proof of the com-
parative prosperity enjoyed by this part of the countrv'.|

Acre or Ptolomais, anciently Accho, has derived its twofold appellation, it is said,
from the circumstance that it was founded by twin brothers, Aeon and Ptolomais. In
early times it was one of the royal residences of the Kings of Egj-pt and Sma, and
was celebrated as one of the strongest fortresses in the country. During the Crusades
it was formed into a bishopric, and was subsequently held by the Knights of Malta. In
the year 1281, when Henry de Lusignan was King of Jerusalem, the Saracens laid
siege to it with an army of sixty thousand cavalrj', and a hundred and sixty thou-
sand infantry. Mighty as this force of the assailants was, the downfall of the city is
attributed less to the power of the enemy tlian to the dissensions which reigned

♦ Joshua, xix. 20. t Judges, i. 31.

i In the year 636, Acre was taken by the Saracens: in 1104, it was taken by Baldwin, the first
Christian King of Jerusalem: in 1187, Saladin, Sultan of Egypt, took it: in 1191, King Richard of
England and Philip of France retook it: in 1291, the Saracens again gained possession of it, and by
them it was lost to the Turks in 1517.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 37

within the fortress. No fewer than seventeen nations are said to have had their
representatives in Acre at this time, and each contended for the right to reign
supreme in the pubUc council. France and England ; the Kings of Naples and
Cyprus; the Knights of Malta; the Prince of Antioch; the Count of Tripoli; the
Apostolic Legate ; the Genoese ; Florentines, Pisans, Armenians, Tartars ; all had
some pretension to direct the movements of the garrison, and the unhappy city fell
a vast heap of ruins, while they were still disputing for the mastery.*

The value of the place was well understood by the leader of the Saracens. As
soon as the ground could be cleared where the once magnificent palace of the Grand
Master of Malta stood, he erected a spacious bazaar, consisting of twenty-four maga-
zines, and with chambers for the accommodation of French, Venetian, and Dutch
merchants. The repair of the fortifications was canied on at the same time ; and
Acre again looked proudly upon the waves, rejoicing, as it seemed, to tempt and to
defy the mightiest armaments of successive ages.

But when Maundrell visited it in 1697 Acre was still exhibiting melancholy proofs
of the injury which it had suffered from this and subsequent revolutions. " With the
exception," he says, " of a large khan, in which the French factors have taken up
their quarters, a mosque, and a few poor cottages, you see nothing here but a vast
and spacious ruin. It is such a ruin, however, as sufficiently demonstrates the
strength of the place in former times. It appears to have been encompassed, on the
land side, by a double wall, defended with towers at small distances ; and ^vithout
the wall are ditches, ramparts, and a kind of bastions faced with hewn-stone. In the
fields beyond these works we saw scattered up and down upon the ground several
large balls of stone, of at least thirteen or fourteen inches diameter, which were part
of the ammunition used in battering the city, guns being then unknown. Within
the walls there still appear several ruins, which seem to distinguish themselves from
the general heaps by some marks of a greater strength and magnificence. At first,
those of the cathedral church dedicated to St. Andrew, which stands not far fi-om
the sea-side, higher and more conspicuous than the other ruins. Secondly, the
church of St. John, the tutelar saint of this city. Thirdly, the Convent of the
Knights Hospitallers, a place whose remaining walls sufficiently testify its ancient
strength ; and not far from the convent, the palace of the grand master of that
order. The magnificence of this may be guessed from a large staircase and part of
a church still remaining in it. Another dilapidated edifice, an extensive monastery,
was pointed out to Maundrell as the scene of an heroic sacrifice to terrified honour
and purity. Finding that the enemy had entered the city, the presiding lady of the
establishment resolved to save herself and her companions from being consigned to
the harems of the conqueror. Not a moment was to be lost. With the first weapons
she could seize, she so effectually gashed and disfigured her face, as to leave no

♦ Morrison, Naud, Maundrell.

33 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

visible remains of beauty. Her example was eagerly and gratefully followed by
her youthfid companions. The soldiers entered while the gore was still clotted on
their faces. Enraged at the spectacle, disappointed of their prey and of their hopes,
the barbarians instantly struck the bleeding girls dead at their feet.

According to an anecdote related of the times of Saint Louis, Acre must long have
been favourable to the ciUtivation of enthusiastic piety. It is said that while the
good monarch was in the city, one of his monks met an old woman in the streets,
carrying in one hand a cruse of water, and in the other a little basket of burning
coals, \^^len the monk asked her for what piuT^ose she canned these things about,
she answered, that she wished with the one to extinguish the fires of hell, and with
the other to bium up paradise ; for that if this were done, it might be possible
to overcome the base and selfish spirit of man, and teach him to love God for him-
self alone.

As Acre is so remarkable in history, says Pococke,* " I took some pains in examin-
ing the ground and country about it. Half a mile east of the city is a small hill,
improved by art. It is about half a mile in length, and a quarter of a mile broad ;
and is very steep every way, except to the south-west. This was probably the camp
of the besiegers, as it was a fine situation for that pui^pose ; and the Pasha pitches
his tent on this hill when he goes the yearly circuits to receive his tribute. To the
north of this there is an irregular rising ground, where there are great ruins of vaults,
some of which seem to have been reservoirs of water ; and probably this might be a
place where they deposited some of the less valuable baggage of the army. To the
north-west of this place, and a mile to the north of the city, there is another fine
situation for a camp, being a rising ground. On the highest part of it are the ruins
of a very strong square tower ; and near it is a mosque, a tower, and other great
buildings. The place is called Abonotidy, firom a sheik who was buried there. Half
way between this place and Acre there is a fine well, which always abounds in
water ; and it is probable there might be some private canal from it to the city. One
day I went about eight miles to the north-east. At the distance of five miles from
the town we came to a rivulet, and travelled by the side of it in a narrow valley,
between high hills ; at the end of which we came to a castle on a hill. At the
bottom of it there is a large building of hewn stone. This place is called by Euro-
peans, the Enchanted Castle. TJie Castle of Indi, and the Strong Mountain, or
Moimt Feret, are mentioned as fortresses belonging to the Knights near Acre."

Mr. Buckingham states that the Saracenic remains at Acre are now only partially
to be traced in the inner walls of the town; and that the ruins of the Christian
edifices spoken of by Maundrell and others, are no longer to be seen. But shafts
of red and grey granite, and marble pillars, are found in every part of the town,
either lying altogether neglected, or employed in the construction of some humble

* Observations on Palestine, c. xiii. p. 53.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 39

edifice. The town itself, says the same traveller, presents a mixture of the gaudv
and the miserable, the ill-contrived and the useful ; in which, however, the latter
may be said to prevail. Among the chief buildings are an extensive palace of
Saliman Pasha, with spacious courts and fountains : opposite to this, a fine mosque,
the dome and minarets of which are seen conspicuously from without ; and another
palace of Ali Pasha. These buildings, with a fountain near them in the public
street, enclosed by a brasswork firame, and highly ornamented, are all executed in
the style of Constantinople. There are also gardens near them, filled with trees m
fine foliage, among which tJie tall and dark-green cypress are distinguishable.

Extensive bazaars once characterized Acre as the resort of busy, wealthy strangers.
An old caravansary in this city was said to be the finest edifice of the kind in
Syria. Nothing was wanting in this remarkable estabhshment to the comfort of the
stranger ; and in its spacious apartments might be seen the representatives of most of
the trading nations of the world. But in the memorable sieges which Acre suffered
during the late war, the calamities to which its situation exposed it in earlier
ages were renewed. It was taken in 1832, after a fierce struggle, by the Egyptian
forces; and in November, 1840, it was destroyed by the explosion of one of its
own magazines, while the British fleet was assailing it fi-om without.

FROM ACRE TO NAZARETH

AND CANA OF GALILEE.

The European stranger finds liimself at Acre, in the midst of a population which
beai-s little of the impress of religious tradition. On leaving the gates of the city,
cheerful country scenes stretch far and wide before him. The plain of Acre is said
to be about three leagues in breadth, and is studded with villages, occupying the
sites of once important and flourishing towns. According to early writers, partridges,
hares, and other game are abundant in this district ; and the venison, they add,
would be excellent were it not eaten too young.

It is not till after he has proceeded about two leagues on his road, that the tra-
veller begins to experience again those solemn feelings which the lively and busy
look of Acre has tended to interrupt. At this stage of the journey, between Acre
and Nazareth, is a place which the Arabs, according to D'Arvieux, were accustomed
from remote times to occupy as a strong-hold and hiding-place. The chevalier
travelled with a strong escort, and expected to b^ attacked in passing this spot,
which he calls the worst in all Galilee. The appearance, however, which he and his
companions presented daunted the marauders ; and he adds, with chivalrous confi-
dence, that had even two hundred Arabs assailed their little troop, they would liave
gained nothing but blows.

After passing this spot, the traveller enters upon the noble plain of Zabulon,
which, though wanting the beauty and cheerfulness imparted to a country by smiling
villages or picturesque towns, and the moving panorama of busy life, has the singular
charm which so peculiarly belongs to extensive plains when covered with the rich
produce of successfiil culture. To tliis district succeeds another, abounding in olive-
groves, whose grey tints, and fantastically cleft and twisted stems, give an air of
remote antiquity even to nature herself. Here, too, the numerous streams which
flow from the neighbouring mountains break strangely with their murmurs upon the
silence of the country. Wherever the eye wanders there are evidences of God's
bounty ; but there are indications also of his chastisements : for numerous ruins
mark the spots where cities once stood, which, but for the wickedness of the people
and their rulers, might still have rejoiced in opulence and splendour.

In former times the district which now exhibits so few marks of social life, teemed
with the fruits of high civilization and prosperity. This was the case with the banks
of the Belus, on which, it is recorded, the first discovery was made which led to the

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 41

manufacture of glass. Some sailors, according to the received account, had landed
from their ship to prepare their meal, and having with some blocks of nitre made a sort
of tripod to support their caldron, they soon found the fire converting the sand into
a sort of liquified glass. Very extensive manufactories of the material were early
established in Sidon, and other neighbouring cities, in consequence of the abundant
supply of alkali, which it was now known could be obtained firom the sands of the
Belus, and vessels were despatched from Europe in the seventeenth centmy for the
purpose of conveying the sand to the great glass-manufactories of Italy.

The Belus is only about two stadia from Acre ; and a little further on is the river
Kishon, the name of which is associated with so many recollections of ancient devo-
tion and heroism. " They fought from heaven : the stars in their courses fought
against Sisera. The river of Kishon swept them away, that ancient river, the river
Kishon."*

" In travelling under the south- east brow of Carmel," says Shaw, t " I had an oppor.
tunity of seeing the sources of the river Kishon ; three or four of which lie within
less than a furlong of each other, and are called Ras-el-Kishon, or the head of Kuhon.
These alone, without the lesser contributions nearer the sea, discharge water enough
to form a river half as big as the Isis. During the rainy season, hkewise, all the
water which falls on the eastern side of the mountain, or upon the rising ground to
the southward, empties itself into it in a number of torrents; at which conjunctures
it overflows its banks, acquires a wonderful rapidity, and carries all before it. And
it might be at such a conjuncture as this when the stars are said to jight against
Sisera, that is, by bringing an abundance of rain, whereby the Kishon was so occa-
sionally high and rapid as to sweep away the host of Sisera in attempting to ford it.
But these inundations are extemporaneous only, without any duration ; for the course
of the Kishon, which is only about seven miles in length, runs very briskly, till within
half a league of the sea. When the Kishon, therefore, is not augmented by these
accidental torrents, it never falls into the sea in a fiill stream, but insensibly perco-
lates through a bank of sand, which the north wind throws up against the mouth of
it. In this manner I foimd it in the middle of April 1722, when I passed it."

But the most interesting spot on the road from Acre to Nazareth is that on which
once stood the city of Sepphoris, J described by Josephus as the largest town in Galilee,
and as occupying a position of such strength, that it might be regarded as a defence
to the whole district. It is celebrated iji later Jewish historj'. Herod Antipas trusted to
the fortifications with which he surrounded it as the surest protection of his tetrarchy ;
and it is said that medals of the city were coined as late as the reign of Trajan.

Sephoury, as the village which has succeeded to the noble city of ancient times is

* Judges, V. 20, 21. t Page 274.

t For sixteen miles round, says the Jerusalem Talmud, Lightfoot's Works, vol. x. p. 394, was a
land flowing with milk and honey. The great Sanhedrim sat here for some time after tlie destruc-
tion of Jerusalem. It was attacked and destroyed by a Boman army in the year 339.

A-2 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

called, possessed a few years back some valuable relics of the early Christian ages.
The parents of the Virgin Marj' are said to have been inhabitants of this jjlace ; and
the house of St. Anne once stood, saj's tradition, where the stranger is now invited
to contemplate the remains of a magnificent Gothic church. This edifice is spoken
of by some travellers as one of the most magnificent structures to be seen in the
Holy Land. " We entered," says Dr. Clarke, " beneath lofty massive arches of
stone. The roof of the building was of the same materials. The arches are placed
at the intersection of a Greek cross, and originally supported a dome or a tower.
Their appearance is highly picturesque, and they exhibit the grandeur of a noble
style of architecture. Broken columns of granite and marble lie scattered among
the walls, and these prove how richly it was decorated. We measured the capital
of a pillar of the order commonly called Tuscan, which we found lying against a
pillar of granite. The top of this formed a square of three feet. One aisle of the
building is yet entire. At the eastern extremity a small temporary altar had been
recently constructed by the piety of pilgrims. It consisted of loose materials, and
was of very modem date. Some fi-agments of the original decorations of the church
had been gathered firom the ruins, and laid upon this altar ; and although they had
remained open to every approach, even the Moslems had respected the votive offer-
ings. We were less scrupulous ; for among them, to our great surprise, we noticed
an ancient painting, executed after the manner of the pictures worshipped hi Russia,
upon a square piece of wood, about half-an-iuch in thickness. This picture, split
through the middle, consisted of two pieces, which, placed one upon the other, lay
upon the altar, covered with dust and cobwebs. From its appearance, it was endent
that it had been found near the spot, the dirt not having been removed, and that the
same piety wliich had been shown in collecting together the other scraps, had also
induced some person to leave it upon the altar as a relic."*

Two other pictures of the same kind were afterwards discovered, and Dr. Clarke
supposes that they might be attributed to a period long anterior to that in which the
arts began to be known in Italy.

The road fiom Sephomy lies among ban-en, hme-stone rocks, exhibiting nothing
but desolation, and seeming to defy any attempt at cultivation. Nazareth, which
is situated about thirty leagues to the north of Jerusalem, occupies the brow of a
rugged hill, in the middle of a narrow valley. From its very locality, it must have
presented, even in its best days, no unfit image of the poor and humble state of the
blessed Jesus. No mention is made of this place in the Old Testament ; and it was
in the time of our Saviour a by-Word for poverty and contempt. The house inhabited

* Travels, vol. iv. p. 133. When Mr. Buckingham travelled from Acre to Nazareth, in 1815, he
heard, on passing near Sephoury, that its JIahommedan inhabitants had taken so little care of its
antiquities, that the remains of tlie house of St. Anne had been entirely destroyed, and that the visits
of the Christian priests had long been discontinued. A fountain near this city is frequently spoken of
in the history of the Crusades. The Christian chiefs often assembled there.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 4S

by the Virgin Mary is said to have remained in its original state till the Empress
Helena erected a magnificent church on the spot. In the year 1291 this edifice
was destroyed by the Sultan of Egyjjt, and it was then that the angels, says the
famous tradition, carried part of the holy house first to Dalmatia and then to Loretto,
in the forest of Recauati. " Tlie Latin fathers of the Holy Sepulchre," says Pococke,*
"have a large, well-built convent and church here. Near the latter are some remains
of a much larger, which seems by the architecture to be of the time of the Empress
Helena; for there remain several capitals and bases of pillars, and other pieces of
ancient work in a tolerable good taste, and over a door is an old alt-reUef of Juditli
cutting off tlie head of Holofemes. The church is said to be built over the place
where the house of Joseph and Mary stood, and they show the spot from which,
they say, the holy house of Loretto was removed. t There is a descent to it by steps ;
and within it there is a grot cut out of the soft rock, to which, it is said, the house
adjoined, so that the grotto was part of their habitation. The great church built
over the house of Joseph is mentioned by the waiters of the seventh and twelfth
century. To the north of the convent are rains of a small church, which, it is said,
was on the spot where Joseph had his house, probably apart from the women,
according to the Eastern custom, where they suppose he exercised his trade. To
the west of this there is a small arched building, which, they say, is the synagogue
where Christ explained the text of Isaiah, concerning himself, by which he gave
such great offence to his countrymen ; and on the other side of the hill, to the west,
they show a large rock in a quany, on which they affirm that Christ eat with his
disciples.

" About a fin-long to the north of the ^-illage is a fountain, over which there is an
arch turned. It runs into a beautiful mai'ble vase, which seems to have been a tomb.
Beyond it is a Greek cburcli underground, where the Greeks say, the angel Gabriel
first saluted the blessed Virgin. Tliere is a foimtain in it, and formerly there was a
church built over it.

" We went two mUes south, to the mountain of the precipice, winding round to a
part of the valley which is very narrow, having high hills on each side of it. To the
west is the mountain of the precipice, which is towards the south end of a steep and
rocky ridge of hills. We ascended about a quarter of the way up the hill, where
there is an altar cut in the rock, with an arch over it, and some remains of a Mosaic
pavement. There are two cisterns near it. The monks come here to celebrate
mass. About forty feet higher is the place from which, they say, the Jews would
have thrown oiu- Saviour down. There are two high stones at the edge of the rock,
like a parapet wall, where they show, what they say are the prints of Christ's hand*
and feet when he resisted the violence they used against him. We ascended to the

* Naud. Voyage Nouveau, lib. v. c. xiii. p. 604. Doubdan Voyage, c. lii. p. .'i08.
t Description of the East, vol. ii. p. 1. Observations on Palestine, p. (Jl.

44 THE CHRISTUX IX PALESTINE.

top of the hill, which is so covered with great loose pieces of rock, that it was diffi-
cult to descend into the valley to the north-east by which we returned."*

Mr. Buckingham was treated with great kindness by the monks of Nazareth, and
relates their traditions with indulgent complacency. Passing from one part of the
grotto to another, over steps cut out of the rock, we came, he says, " to a chamber
which the friars called La Cucina della Santa Madona. They here showed us the
chimney of the hearth on which Mary warmed the food for Jesus, while yet an help-
less infant; and where she baked the cakes for her husband's supper when he
returned from the labours of the day." It is added, " The fact of Joseph and Mary
having resided in this house, and used the very room in which we stood as their
kitchen, has nothing at all of improbability in it, and as excavated buddings, in the
side of a steep hill like this, would be more secure, and even more comfortable than
fabricated ones, it is quite as probable that this might have really been the residence
of the holy family as of any other."

Dr. Clarke, who arrived at Nazareth when the plague was raging there,t says that
the church, bmlt over the cave in which the Virgin is supposed to have resided, is
regarded as a sanctuary against the scom-ge of the pestilence. " So powei-fid is the
influence of superstition in this country, that at the time of our visit, the Franciscan
friars belonging to the convent had been compelled to surround their altars with an
additional fencing, in order to prevent persons infected with the plague from seeking
a miraculous cure, by rubbing their bodies with the hangings of the sanctuary, and
thus communicating infection to the whole town ; because all who entered saluted
these hangings with their lips. Many of those unhappy patients believed themselves
to be secure, from the moment when they were brought within the walls of this
buUding, although in the last stage of the disorder. As we passed towards the
church, one of the friars, rapidly conducting us, pointed to some invalids who had
recently exhibited marks of the infection. These men were then sitting upon the
bare earth, in cells, around the court-yard of the convent, waiting for a miraculous
recovery. The sight of infected persons so near us rather checked our curiosity,
but it was too late to render ourselves more secure by retreating. We had been
told, that if we chose to venture into the church, the doors of the convent would be
opened ; and, therefore, had determined to risk a little danger, rather than be dis-
appointed ; particularly as it was said the sick were kept apart, in a place expressly
allotted to them. We now began to be sensible we had acted without sufficient
caution ; and it is well we had not good reason afterwards to repent of oiu: impru-
dence. Having entered the church, the finars put burning wax tapers in our

• Doubdan enters into a long defence of the tradition respecting the print of Christ's hands and feet
on the rock. Other travellers dispute the tnith of the account which points out the site of the pre-
cipice, and contend that the rock overhanging the town was the scene of the violence offered to our
Lord.

t Travels, vol. iv. p. 160.

THE CHKISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 45

bands, and charging us on no account to touch anythuig, led the way, muttering
their prayers. We descended by a flight of steps into the cave, entering by means of
a small door, behind an altar laden with pictures, wax candles, and aU sorts of super-
stitious trumpery. They pointed out to us what they called the kitchen, and the
fire-place of the Virgin Mary. As all these sanctified places in the Holy Land con-
tain some supposed miracle for exhibition, the monks of Nazareth have taken care
not to be without their share in supernatural rarities. Accordingly, the first thing
they show to strangers who descend into this cave, are two stone pillars in the firont
of it ; one of which, separated from its base, is said to sustain its capital, and part of
its shaft miraculously in the air. The fact is, that the capital and a piece of the
shaft of a pillar of grey granite have been fastened on to the roof of the cave ; and
so clumsily is the rest of the hocus pocus contrived, that what is shown for the lower
fragment of the sand-pit pillar resting upon the earth, is not of the same substance,
but of Cipolin marble. About this pillar a different story has been related to
almost every traveller, since the trick was first devised. MaundreU, and Egmont,
and Heyman were told that it was broken by a pasha, in search of hidden treasure,
who was struck with blindness for his impiety. We were assured that it separated
in this manner when the angel announced to the Virgin the tidings of her concep-
tion. The monks had placed a rail to prevent persons infected with the plague from
coming to rub against these piUars. This had been for many years their constant
practice, whenever afflicted with any sickness. The reputation of the broken pillar
for healing every kind of disease prevails all over Galilee."

The Chevalier d'Arvieux found the Turks and Moors, no less than the Christians,
convinced of the sanctity and healing virtues of this broken column ; but with regard
to the miracle, he contents himself with observing, that the wonder was that so huge
a mass of marble should remain suspended in the air, supported only by the roof of
the grotto.

The environs of Nazareth are so wild and desolate, that they need not the help of
tradition to impress a thoughtful mind with solemn recollections of the early life of
him who was brought up to be " a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief." But
Nazareth is not without its fountains ; and their pure, refreshing waters afford a
beautiful emblem of that new hfe which the poor, but divine Jesus came to bestow
upon a ruined world.

*' In the valley," says Dr. Clarke, " appeared one of those fountains which, from
time immemorial, have been the halting-place of caravans, and sometimes the scene
of contention and bloodshed. The women of Nazareth were passmg to and fi-om
the town, with pitchers upon their heads. We stopped to view the group of camels,
with their drivers, who were there reposing ; and calling to mind the manners of the
most remote ages, we renewed the solicitation of Abraham's ser\'ant to Rebecca,
by the well of Nahor. * In the writings of early pilgrims and travellers, this spring

• Gen. x.\iv. 17.

4,6 THE CHKISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

is denominated ' The Fountain of the Virgin Mary ; ' and certainly if there be a spot
throughout the Holy Land, that was undoubtedly honoured by her presence, one
may consider this to have been the place ; because the situation of a copious spring
is not liable to change ; and the custom of repairing thither to draw water has been
continued among the female inhabitants of Nazareth, from the earliest period of
its history."

" Every scene," says Lord Lindsay,* " of our Saviour's life at Nazareth is marked
by chapels and churches. There is a well, however, named after the Virgin, to the
east of the city, which we gazed at with evident interest. It still supplies Nazareth
with water, and thither, without a doubt, came the Virgin mother, and her Saviour
son, day after day, to draw water ; as we also saw the daughters of Nazareth coming."

" If any of the present traditional sites," says Mr. Bartlett, " of the Ufe of Jesus
and his parents are worthy of credit, we should be disposed to select that of which we
here give an engraving. It is at a short distance from the \Tllage, much frequented
by women, bearing their water-jars in the picturesque and graceful fashion we have
endeavoured to represent. The spot is very pretty ; the small white fountain stands
just under the hill behind Nazareth, and is suppUed with water from a spring under
the Greek chiu-ch of the Annunciation, a low building seen in the background. It
would appear that here formerly existed a subterraneous church or chapel around
the spring. The path of approach to the open space before the fountain is
bordered by hedges of prickly pear ; groups of women are continually passing, and
there is an incessant strife and chorus of female voices at the fountain itself. In
addition, trains of laden camels or passing travellers add to the life and animation
of the spot. It was not without considerable difficulty that we could get any of
the women to stand a few moments for their portraits ; the eloquence of my
Turkish servant — and, to do him justice, he possessed amazing readiness and volu-
bility — being in fiill play the whole time. The habit of can-ying the jars, of course
in a perfectly erect position, their figure being unfettered by certain western
contrivances, gives an exquisite grace to then- movements : they are generally tall,
and many possess no common beauty of face and person. Their various modes of
bearing the water-jars are copied exactly in the engraving, as well as their costume,
which is exceedingly elegant, plying to their hthe and undulating movements with
a perfection that a Parisian milliner would be puzzled to attain.

" Nothing is more probable than that this spring should have been frequented from
theearhest period; and the imagination may reasonably picture the mother of Jesus
coming with her child, like the rest of the women of Nazareth, to fetch water from
the fountain. The cHiF which rises steeply behind the village, appears stamped with
eveiy appearance of identity, as one of the sites referred to in the few notices of
Nazareth occurring in the New Testament."

• Vol. ii. p. 84. Letters on Egypt, Edom, and the Holy Land.

'■'■ ^

V^N

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 47

" From the wiudow," says the same gentleman, " of the massive stone structure,
which serves as a receptacle for the pilgrim and the traveller, I looked out upon the
little valley in search of some spot where I might retire and wear away the remaining
hour or two of a very exciting day in tranquil repose among its shades ; a group of
massive carob-trees, just lifted above its green level, about half-a-mile from the vil-
lage, struck me as the very retirement I wished, and in a short time I was stretched
beneath their ample branches.

" The quiet beauty of the scene was remarkable ; it was such as the Italian painters
would have selected in the midst of which to place their groups of the Madonna
and infant Jesus. It is rarely the case that a locaUty satisfies the imagination, but
in this instance there was nothing wanting. The spreading trees above me bent
over towards the valley, almost touching the ground, and seeming as a frame to confine
the picture. The Uttle valley lay below, encircled by hiUs of moderate height, alter-
nately green and rocky, beneath wliich, half hidden, the white buildings of Nazareth
appear to nestle for shelter ; on the left the hills drop quietly to the valley beauti-
fully broken by groups of trees and rocky fragments.

" The sun was setting, and camels and asses laden with grain descended from all
sides into the level valley, where the rich produce of the soil was deposited. The
animals, relieved of their loads, were enjoying their provender ; the laborious pea-
sants, seated among the heaps of com, with their pipes, quietly enjoying the coolness
of the evening. It was beautifiil to watch the light upon the flocks, as they
descended from the hills, preceded by their owners on horseback in their bright-
coloured costume, their arms slung across their shoulders.

" It would add to the interest of the landscape with figures which we here present
to the reader, if the peasants, whose picturesque forms and costume occupy the
foreground, were of the same race who dwelt upon the soil in the days of Christ.
But there is no Jewish population in the valley, which is mhabited principally
by a race of Arab blood, or rather of a mixture of Syrian and Arab. They are
strong, well made, and fearless. The peasant whose face is towards the spectator,
is clothed principally in garments of sheepskin; in his leather girdle are a brace
of pistols and his pipe ; his head is invested in a picturesque bemous or handkerchief,
woven with lines of gold and vermihon, whose ample folds are considered the best
protection against the summer heat ; and his feet are shod with sandals tied by
leather thongs. The long robe which is seen on the back of the other peasant is
the common costume of the country, and is exceedingly broad, noble, and
picturesque ; probably, from its simpUcity and adaptation to the climate, it is of
very early origin ; so that the group before us may differ little from similar ones in
the time of the patriarchs."

" On gainiug the hill above Nazareth," says Mr. Bartlett, in another note, " the

48 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

vie^T that opened was one of the most beautiful as well as interesting in Palestine ;
of the principal portion of it I have endeavoured to give an idea in the engradng.

" The survey of the formation of the district was of itself curious, reminding me
of the models of Swiss scenery often met with. The shape of the sequestered vale
of Nazareth, branching out of the great plain of Esdraelon, with its sheltering hills,
the plain itself, with the direction of its mountain -boundaries, were distinctly made
out. A singular contrast is presented by the narrow valley and extensive plain :
the fonner green, well shaded by oUve-groves, and ha\dng on the sides of its bound-
aries occasional groups of large carob-trees; while the distant plain is one level sheet
of com, imreUeved by a single object.

" Viewed firom this precipice, which would seem to be identical with that from
which the enraged Nazarenes sought to cast Jesus, the modem town Ues at our
feet ; and, as may be seeti in the view, some of its buddings cluster picturesquely
among the trees on the hill-slopes above. The principal mass of building, enclosed
within a high wall, is the convent, and opposite stands the receptacle for pilgrims I
have alluded to. The whole extent of the town is not shovm in the engraving : to
say the trath, the view from this point is too map-like, and wants grouping. To the
left of the valley of Nazareth, and on the side of the mountain, a touch of hght shows
the position of Nain ; the vast plain of Esdraelon is in the distance. From a higher
point the Mediterranean and Mount Carmel may be seen.

" My sketch finished, I hastened through the town, or rather village, to the convent.
Most eastern towns are aUke in character, varying only in the comparative width and
narrowness of the streets, and the greater or lesser accumulation of filth. Nazareth,
so far as oiu: observation went, is open and cheerful ; and its population manly,
robust, and independent in their aspect ; the women handsome, and gracefiil, and
erect in their carriage."

Impressed as most travellers have been with the solemnity of the scenery about
Nazareth, the Christian who contemplates, even in imagination, its savage rocks and
precipices, will often find himself deeply moved at the recollection that it was among
such scenes the human character of our Lord was developed. Nature looked like
a stem mother, denying to his childhood all tenderness and indulgence. He was
driven back upon himself, upon pure, simple humanity, that is, whenever he would
rejoice in the good and the beautiful. Tliere was, indeed, one being in the world
whose hohness and inexpressible fondness must have been to him a source of pure
deUght. But he knew that his high destiny as man would bring vrith it sorrows
that must pierce through her heart like a sharp sword ; and often, no doubt, would
he feel that the rough hills and unverdant paths about him were better suited to a
youth like his than the lovely retreats of Carmel and Sharon.

It is, indeed, a circumstance not lightly to be passed over by the thoughtful

V^i

^
$.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 49

Christian, that the early life of his Saviour and great exemplar was passed in such
a place as Nazareth. If, according to the ordinary laws of the human mind, the cir-
cumstances in which he was placed had anyinfluence upon his feelings, who can doubt
but that the aspect which outward nature assumed must have often affected the current
of his thoughts. " A man of sorrows and acquainted with grief," the brighter forms
of the earth were hidden from his youthful gaze. If he was to look for beauty or
sympathy in any part of the visible universe, it was in the heavens above he was to
find the symbols of his Father's benevolence. There the inhabitant of the most
sterile land may bathe his thoughts in glory, reading that God is love ; and there
the blessed Jesus, in poor and gloomy Nazareth, might trace the starry path
along which, after the destined period of his trial, he would ascend to his eternal
abode.

Surrounded by mountains, and far apart from the more frequented districts of
Palestine, the inhabitants of Galilee exhibited many of those characteristics
generally found to distinguish the people of hilly regions from those of softer or
more fertile lands. The contempt in which Nazareth itself was held led the Jews
to indulge themselves in reviling it at the expense of truth. " Out of Galilee
ariseth no prophet," was a common saying. " But out of Galilee," it is observed
" arose the renowned prophet Jonah, of Gath-hepher, in the tribe of Zebulun. And
in Galilee was much of the converse of Ehas ; but especially of EUsha, at Shunem,
in the tribe of Issachar; and all these three famous apostles of the GentUes."
And again : " Galilee, as base as it was in the repute of the Jews of Judea, had,
notwithstanding, been renowned in many achievements and for many occurrences ;
and at length came to be the most honourable of all places, for the residence
of Christ and the birth-place of the gospel. Moses* had foretold that Zebulun
and Issachar, Galileans, should call the people unto the mountain of the Lord's
house to offer sacrifices of righteousness ; " and Jacob,t before him, that " Naph-
tali, the Galdean. should give goodly words : " both evident and glorious predictions
of the original of the gospel in these places. Add to this that both Zebulun and
Naphtali had won great renown in the overthrow of Sisera, and in the wars of
Gideon.

Several intimations exist in the rabbinical writings of the comparatively rude, but
honest character of the Galileans. Thus in some accounts of the mode of writing
the instrument necessary to secure a marriage dowry, it is said, " The Galileans
cared for reputation, not for money. The inhabitants of Judea cared for money,
not for reputation." So, also, " The wise men say. In Judea they did servile works
on the passover, even until noon ; in Galilee, not at all."

The difference in the dialect of the Galileans fi'om that of the other Jews is
memorably recorded in the gospel : " Surely, thou also art one of them, for thy
• Deut. xxxiii. 19. t Gen. xlix. 21.

50 THE CHRISTIAN I-V PALESTINE.

speech bewrayeth thee."* Some curious illustrations are given of this peculiarity
by Jewish writers. Thus it is said, " To the men of Judea, who were exact in their
language, their law is established in their hands. To the men of Galilee, who are
not exact in their language, their law is not established in their hands." To the
same purpose ; " The men of Judea learn from one master, and then- law is
estabhshed in their hands. The Galileans leam not from one master, and their law is
not establislied in their hands." Upon which the gloss or commentary runs thus : —
" The Galileans heard one master in one language, and another in another ; and
the diversity of the language or pronunciation confounded them so, that they
forgot."

Instances are given of the pronunciation of the Galileans, wliich leaves it no
longer a matter of surprise that a native of Galilee might easily be discovered by
his speech. It is said, that a certain Galilean intending to ask, " Whose is this
immar ? " that is, lamb, pronounced the first letter so imperfectly, that the hearers
knew not whether he meant, chamar, that is, an ass ; or, chamar, wine ; or, amar,
wool ; or, immar, a lamb. Again : a Galilean woman intending to say to some
person, " Come, and I will feed you with mUk," spoke so indistinctly, that she ap-
peared to say, " My neighbour, a lion shall eat you." Of another, it is told, that,
presenting herself before the judge to make a complaint of a robbery which she
had suffered, she intended to say, " My lord, I had a picture which they stole ; and
it was so large, that if you had been placed in the frame, your feet would not have
touched the ground : " but instead of saying this, her words bore the following
meaning : — " Sir slave, I had a beam, and they stole it away ; it was so great, that if
they had hung thee on it, thy feet would not have touched the gi-ound."t

We may conclude from these circumstances, that the inhabitants of Galilee were
generally uneducated and wanting in refinement. They were, however, a bold and
comparatively virtuous people ; and the character of several of the apostles appears to
have been strongly influenced by the common feelings of their countrymen. It was
not till several centuries after the ascension of our Lord that Nazai'eth became a
place of any importance in the Christian church. During the Crusades it formed a
part of the fief bestowed upon Tancred, who, in the first year of the new kingdom of
Jerusalem, established by Godfrey, won the city of Tiberias from the Saracens, and
received as the reward of his valour and devotion the whole principality of Galilee.
Generously emulating the glory of his great leader in acts of piety, as well as in
bravery, he established churches at Nazareth and Tiberias, and enriched them with
large endowments. The name of Tancred was long celebrated in Galilee ; and his
noble deeds of charity shone forth in strange contrast with the avarice and selfishness
which marked the conduct of his successors. Nazareth, which thus began to ac-
* Matt. xxvi. 73.
t Lightfoot's Clirorographical Century. Works, T. x. p. 158.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 51

quire distinction by the wealth of its church, became a metropolitan see on the
degradation of Scythopolis. In the early part of the twelfth centiu-y, the Bishop of
Nazareth had a difficult controversy with the monks of Mount Tabor, who wished
to deny his episcopal authority over their convent. By the decree, however, of a
synod, the bishop was allowed the superintendence of the monastery, on condition
that the consecration of the abbot, and other high solemnities, should be performed
by the patriarch of Jerusalem.-

The nctory which Saladin gained in the year 1187, at Mount Hattin, reduced
Nazareth to its former poverty. In the pride of his success, the conqueror dis-
patched a powerful body of troops from Ptolemais, to scour the country in all direc-
tions. Terror and desolation attended their steps. The land was laid waste ; and
nothing but cries of despair were to be heard from Mount Carmel to Joppa and
Lydda. A party of these troops having entered Nazareth, the Christians, who had
sought refuge in the church of the Virgin, were immediately butchered ; and the
sacred edifice was everywhere stained with their blood. t It is careftilly recorded
by the chroniclers, that King Louis of France visited Nazareth in the pilgrimage
which he made in the year 1250. But very few years passed after this before
Nazareth was again laid in ruins by a victorious sultan. From this calamity it ap-
pears never to have recovered. The reverence due to the associations with which
its name is connected must have excited, we should suppose, the zeal of many
pious minds to desire the restoration of its church, or the establishment of religious
institutions within its hallowed walls. But the few pilgrims who visited it were poor
and obscure. The Mussulman inhabitants are described as unusually barbarous
and intolerant ; nor was it till that remarkable man, Fakhr-ed-Din, before spoken
of, estabhshed his power in this district, that any attempt was made to render Naza-
reth an asylum for Christian worshippers. The work was commenced by some
Franciscan monks ; but, notwithstanding their zeal, and the advantages which they
enjoyed, it was not till long after that Nazareth could number among its inhabit-
ants more than three or four Christian families, and eight or ten monks.

At the beginning of the last century, the Christian population was much increased.
The sacred spots pointed out by tradition were more eagerly sought by pUgrims ;
and, absurd as are many of the stories told by the credulous monks, there is still
enough of truth written on the very face of the rocks which surround this poor and
despised town, to recall the image of the heavenly being whose earliest experience
of human existence was gained within its walls; who there set the first of that series
of subhme examples which rendered his life the model of human perfection : for it
was at Nazareth that, divine as he was, Jesus lived, subjected to the humblest of
parents ; and there that, by the pure devotion of a sanctified understanding, he so

* Wilken ; Geschichte der Kreuzzugu. T. ii. K. six. p. 365.
t Wilken, T. iii. p. 294.

52 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

Studied the law and the prophets, in the earhest years of youth, that the most
renowned doctors of the temple were astonished at his wisdom ; and there it was that
he awaited, with holy and patient submission to his Father's will, the fitting period
for the manifestation of his high and glorious calling. When we thus bring to mind
that Nazareth was, for just thirty years, the abode of Jesus ; that it was there
that his wonderful character became developed ; and that there he prepared him-
self for the mighty work of his Messiahsliip ;— few places, even in Palestine itself, can
be regarded by the contemplative Christian with more interest or reverence.

Cana is the only place in the neighbourhood of Nazareth about the identity of
which the Christian inquirer is likely to be much interested. A httle vUlage at the
distance of about an hour and a half's journey is commonly described as the scene
of our Lord's first miracle. Here, it is said, the mother of Constantine built a
church. The ruins of this building were long preser\-ed ; and sculptured vases,
in allusion to the miracle, formed the ornament of the main entrance. By a common
tradition, also, this Cana was regarded as the abode of Simon the Canaanite and
Nathanael. Lightfoot observes, that expositors speak very generally of a Cana the
great, and Cana the less ; the greater, near Sidon ; the less, they agree not where ;
the one, according to Maldonat, called Cana of the Sidonians; the other, Cana oF
Galilee. It is true, he adds, that a double Cana is spoken of in scripture ; one
in the tribe of Asher, and the other in the tribe of Ephraim. " This, therefore, I
cannot but conclude to be the place, and that it is called Cana of GaUlee to distin-
guish it fi:ora the other Cana in the tribe of Ephraim, which was Cana of Samaria.
And thus, supposing this our Cana to be in the tribe of Asher, as the scripture
shows it us, those words of Jacob may not unfitly be apphed, ' Out of Asher his
bread shall be fat, and he shall yield royal dainties ; ' * for royal dainties does Asher
indeed yield when Christ tumeth water into wine."

The situation of this place may, in some degree, be conjectured, fi-om the fact, that
Josephus tells us, in the account of his life, that he once abode there ; and that,
having occasion to hasten to Tiberias to overthrow a conspiracy against him, he left
Cana, the village in Galilee, with a party of two hundred men, and, by travelling all
night, arrived at Tiberias early in the morning.

But it has now become a matter of doubt whether what is generally said of Cana
of Galilee, in ancient times, ought to be applied to Kefir- Kenna, as it is now called, or
to Kana-el-Jclil. The former is situated on a hill a few miles distant from Nazareth,
to the north-cast. In the ruins of a Greek church there, Dr. Clarke saw some frag-
ments of water-pots similar to those represented as used in ancient times. The spot
also, with some ruins, is pointed out where, it is said, once stood the house inhabited
by Nathanael.

Little credit, however, according to Dr. Robinson, ought to be given to any of the

* Genesis xlix. 23.

TUE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 5$

traditions which have raised this place to distinction. The real Cana, if that inge-
nious and learned traveller may be believed, is to be found in the Kana-el-Jelil,
which is about twice the distance, in a different direction, from Nazareth. Both the
Arabic name and ancient tradition are in favour of this supposition ; the Cana at pre-
sent pointed out not having been regarded as entitled to the reverence which it now
enjoys till the sixteenth century. Supposing, however, that the weight of testimony
was not in favour of Dr. Robinson's view, the respective distances of the two vil-
lages would go far towards deciding the question. A journey of three hours left
httle chance of familiar intercourse in ancient times. There is an apparent im-
probabihty that persons in the humble circumstances of our Lord, and his mother,
and several of his disciples, should have gone so fax from home merely to be present
at a marriage feast. It is far easier to suppose them seeking to do honour to some
friend, whose dwelling among the mountains they had often sought in seasons of
festivity or repose. The mention of the disciples plainly indicates that the persons
whose marriage was celebrated were not strangers to the inhabitants of Nazareth
generally. But the people of a vUlage situated at the distance of three hours, in
the very heart of a mountainous district, would most hkelj- be so ; and the miracle
itself, wrought in a place so remote from Nazareth, could scarcely be expected to
produce the effect which followed — the awakening, that is of some degree of general
attention to the real character and power of our Lord.

Xefr-Kenna, or, as it is supposed, the ancient Cana, lies on one of the direct roads
to Tiberias. Scepticism is a bad companion for the pilgrim in Palestine, whether
he be really there, or only mentally beholding its not fabled but storied hUls and
valleys. Far nobler, far more profitable will be his feeUngs in either case, if he can
realize in his own heart some of those sublime sentiments expressed by him who has
been called, and not wi-ongly, the Milton of English divines. " The married pair
were holy, but poor, and they wanted wine ; and the blessei virgin mother, pitying
the aflront of the young man, complained to Jesus of the want; and Jesus gave her
an answer which promised no satisfaction to her purposes. For now that Jesus had
lived thirty years, and done in person nothing answerable to his glorious birth and
miraculous accidents of his person, she longed tiU the time came in which he was to
manifest himself by actions as miraculous as the star of his birth. She knew by the
rejecting of his trade, and going abroad, and probably by his own discourse to her,
that the time was near ; and the forwardness of her love and holy desires might
possibly go some minutes before his own precise limits. However, Jesus answered
to this pui-pose, to show that the work he was to do was done, not to satisfy her im-
portimity, which is not occasion enough for a miracle, but to prosecute the great
work of divine designation. At the command of Jesus the water-pots were filled
with water, and water was, by his divine power, tumea mto wine, where the different
economy of God and the world is highly observable. Every man sets Jorth good
wine at first, and then the worae; hut God no^ only turns the water into wine, but

54 THE CHRISTIAN IS PALESTINE.

into such wine that tlie last draught is most pleasant. The world presents us wit/i
fair language, promising hopes, convenient fortunes, pompous honours, and these are
the outsides of the bowl; but when it is swallowed these dissolve in the instant, and
there remains but the bitterness and the maUgnity of the fruit. Every sin smiles in
the first address, and carries light in the face and honey in the lip ; but when we
havi- well drunk, then comes that which is worse, a whip with six strings, — fears, and
terrors of conscience, and shame, and displeasure, and a caitive disposition, and
diffidence in the day of death. But when, after the manner of the purifying of
the Christians, we fill our water-pots with water, watering our couch with our tears,
and moistening our cheeks with the pei-petual distillations of repentance, then Christ
timis our water into wine ; first penitents, and then communicants ; first waters of
sorrow, and then the wine of the chalice; first the justifications of correction, and
then tlie santifications of the sacrament, and the efiects of the divine power, — joy, and
peace, and serenity, hopes full of confidence, and confidence without shame, and
boldness without presumption. For Jesus keeps the best wine till the last, not only
because of the direct reservation of the liighest joys till the nearer approaches of
glory, but also because oiu: relishes are higher after a long fi-uition than at the first
essay ; such being the nature of grace, that it increases in relish as it does in fini-
ition, ever)' part of grace being new duty and new reward."*

• Jeremy Taylor's Life of Christ, sec z.

FROM NAZARETH TO TIBERIAS.

The journey from Nazareth to Tabaria, the ancient Tiberias, occupies about eight
hours. Nothing of interest attracts the notice of the traveller on the wild, solitary
road which leads from Nazareth to Cana. After leaving the latter place, several
spots to which tradition has given a species of importance, reawaken the imagination,
and the far from unprofitable train of thoughts so readily called up at the mention of
the Saviour's name. The traveller who carefully investigates the evidence upon
wliich a particular site may found its claim to reverence, will often deserve our
gratitude, because he may succeed in really giving us something better than mere
traditional proof, that we are meditating on the scenes consecrated by an especial
olessing. But when the traveller is too nice and too frequent in his questionings, he
is something like the critic who will not allow us to enjoy a fine passage in a poet,
without disturbing our pleasure by suggesting, that scarcely a word can be depended
upon as that of the author.

Popular feeling points out a mountain of an oblong shape, with two jutting peaks,
about an hour's distance from Nain, as that on which our Lord miraculously fed the
five thousand. It is commonly called Mons Beatitudinis^y the Latin Christians of
the neighbourhood; but by the natives, Keroun Hottein, or the Horns of Hottein.
Whatever the uncertainty attending the more ancient celebrity of this immediate
district, no such doubt interferes with its historical interest, as the scene of the
battle which destroyed the foundations of the Christian empire in Palestine.

Saladin, whose generous and noble character has cast the glare of romance over
his vices as a conqueror, was approaching the zenith of his fame, when the Christians
were placed under the government of a monarch utterly unworthy of his high dig-
nity. Guy of Lusignan was a graceful and accomplished nobleman. He had won
the affection of Sybilla, the sister of Balduin the fourth, the then king of Jerusalem.
Balduin's infirmities induced him to appoint the husband of his sister to the regency
of his kingdom. But Guy proved himself incapable of performing the duties of this
trust ; and Balduin not only appointed another regent, but declared the child, which
Sybilla had had by a former marriage, the heir to his throne.

Balduin died in the year 1185, and was succeeded by his nephew, then only five
years old. Fierce were the contentions which arose respecting the regency ; but in
the midst of the struggle the young prince was taken ill, and died. The more im-
portant question was now to be determined, Who was to wield the sceptre ? The

66 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

Count of Tripoli, whom Balduin had made regent, aspired to the throne. But
Sybilla was too ambitious to resign a prize so nearly within her grasp. Her preten-
sions to the sovereignty were not disputed, when, advised by the patriarch and the
grand-master of the Knights-templars, she proclaimed her intention to separate from
her husband Guy de Lusignan, and to choose a warrior for her consort who might
be able to defend her kingdom.

The news of this resolution of the queen being speedily circulated through
Jerusalem, she ordered the gates to be shut, and proceeded to the Church of the Holy
Sepulchre. There, before the sacred tomb, the patriarch, in the name of the clergy
and the people, tendered her a solemn oath ; and having pronounced the sentence
of divorce nrith a loud voice, commanded her, in the name of heaven, to give her
hand and her sceptre to him whom she judged most worthy. At these words, to the
astonishment of the assembled multitude, Sybilla placed the crown on the head of
her husband, Guy of Lusignan, exclaiming, that man could not sepai-ate those whom
God had joined. Loud were the reproaches which defeated rivals heaped upon
Sybilla and her consort. They had been deprived by her poUcy, or her cunning, of
every hope of succeeding to the throne ; and the dissensions which it was now their
object to create added every day to the miseries suffered by the unhappy Christians.
As in other periods of like calamity, every element seemed to give signs of some ap-
proacliing judgment. "Impetuous winds," says the old historian,* "tempests, and
storms arose from all quarters of the sky. The sun was darkened for several days ; and
hailstones fell of the size of an egg. The earth itself, shaken by frequent and terri-
ble convulsions, foretold the ruin and destruction which were approaching : the wars
and miseries which would shortly ravage the land. The sea even could not be con-
tained within its proper bounds ; but, raging and bursting its limits by the fury of its
waves, represented the anger of God. Fires were seen in the air, as if a house was
burning ; and all the elements, and the whole architecture of God seemed to declare
their abhorrence of man's impiety, and the ruin which was to come."

Whilst many of the bravest warriors in Palestine, abhorring subjection to a monarch
like Guy of Lusignan, were meditating their return to Europe, Raymond hastened
to Tiberias, of which he possessed the sovereignty, and there prepared to fortify
himself against the expected attack of the King of Jerusalem. Unhappily, he so far
forgot his fidelity to the cause of his brethren and his faith, that he invited Saladin
to take part with him against the new king. Another chief, Raynald of Chatillon,
who possessed the lordship of Kerac, contributed no less to endanger the safety of
his people by making hostile excursions into the territory of Saladin, even after a
truce had been entered into between Saladin and the King of Jerusalem. The
cruelty with which Raynald treated the unoffending merchants and travellers who
fell in liis way, greatly exasperated Saladin; and he made a solemn vow that, if ever

* CoDtinuation of William of Tyre.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 57

Raynald fell into his power, he would slay him with his own hand.* Soon after
this, a party of Saracens, sent by their chief to protect Raymond in Tiberias, were
met by a body of about five hundred Templai-s and Knights of St. John. The
battle, which took place on the 1st of May, was fierce and sanguinary'. It
terminated in the almost total destruction of the brave chevdiers ; and the old
chroniclers observe, that when the Christians of Nazareth went forth, according to
their wont at this season of the year, to gather roses and other flowers in the neigh-
bouring fields, they found nothing but traces of carnage and the dead bodies of their
brethren.t

This terrible conflict alarmed Raymond as well as the other Christian chiefs. He
saw how destructive it would be to admit Saladin, whether as an enemy or an ally, into
the country. Resolving, therefore, to subject his own pride and feelings of private
envy to the cause of his faith, he sought and efiected a reconciUation with the
King of Jerusalem; and the two princes, having embraced each other in the sight of
the peoole in the holy city, swore to combat together for the heritage of Jesus
Christ.

A council of chiefs having been held at Jerusalem, it was resolved to assemble
an army without delay on the plains of Sephouri. Fifty thousand men were soon
collected, and stood ready to be led at any moment against the enemy. But the
more prudent of the generals knew the strength of Saladin's army and the ability of
its leader. Intelhgence was brought that he had besieged and taken Tiberias.
Raymond, though he had left his wife and children in the city, stiU exhorted the king
to refrain at present from an engagement. "My desolated country," he said ; " my
towns burnt to ashes ; my people ready to be slaughtered or to be carried into
slavery ; my wife exposed to the insults of the Mussulmans, all implore your help
and mine. But our care ought to be for all the Christian cities left without protec-
tion. This army assembled in the plain of Sephouri, is the last hope which re-
mains for the Christians of the East. You here see the last of the soldiers of Jesus
Christ ; the last of the defenders of Jerusalem. If they perish, the Mussulmans have
nothing more to fear. Be cautious, then, how you conduct this multitude of men and
horses into a dry and barren district, where the heat of the season, hunger and thirst,
will alone be suflicient to deliver them into the hand of the enemy."

Having represented the different character of the two armies, describing that of
the Christians as a confused muUitude, and that of Saladin as a most powerliil and
well disciplined host ; he exclaimed, " Abandon then Tiberias to the Mussulmans,
and let us save an army which may still repair our losses. I swear before God and
man, that I would willingly abandon all my dignities and possessions to save the city
of Jesus Christ. Our sole object should be to destroy the power of Saladin, and to
reserve defenders for the kingdom of Jerusalem."

• Wilken: Geschiclite der Kreuzziige, T. iii. B. iv. c. 5. p. 264.
+ Michaud : Histoire des Croisadee.

58 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

Raymond concluded his address by a simple appeal to the good sense and mili-
tarj- experience of his auditors. But the very candour and self-devotion which
characterized his condirct provoked suspicion. The Grand-master of the Templars
cherished against him an unextinguishable hatred. He had been deprived by
the instrumentality of Raymond of the hand of a beautiful and interesting women, to
whom he had been early attached. Disappointment had led him to embrace the
vows of the Templars ; and he had gradually ascended to the highest place in the
order. The position which he thus occupied enabled him to avenge his early in-
jurj-. When the rest of the chiefs left the king's tent he remained behind ; and, ap-
proaching the monarch, suggested to his already suspicious mind many reasons for
questioning the sincerity of Raymond's professions. By degrees, he insinuated that
there was every reason to believe him to be a traitor, and that his intentions were to
betray the Christian army into the hands of Saladin. Lusignan yielded to the subtle
arguments of the Templar. To the astonishment of the various chiefs and nobles
who had so lately assented to the wise suggestions of Raymond, they were again
summoned to attend the king ; and then heard from his own lips, that he had re-
solved upon immediately proceeding in pursuit of the enemy.

Uncertainty and confusion marked the events of the following day. The chiefs were
divided in opinion ; and the soldiers themselves seemed impressed with the feeling
that they were leaving the plains of Sephouri only to be defeated and slain.
Tiberias had already fallen ; but it was in the direction of that city that the Christian
leaders conducted their host. Having traversed the open country, known in modem
times as the plain of Batouf, the Christians saw the standards of the victorious
Saladin floating proudly on the distant heights. They now began to form a right
estimate of the force of the enemy.. But it was too late to retreat. To reach the
Lake of Tiberias they must break through the ranks of Saladin's formidable host ;
to begin a retrograde movement Would have been only to invite the foe to a more
rapid attack. Saladin at once saw his advantage. The Christians were already
fainting with thirst and fatigue. As the evening sun descended, a sultry heat per-
vaded the atmosphere, which overpowered the bravest of their warriors. To add to
their misery, some of Saladin's soldiers set fire to the dry wood and stubble, which
were found in large quantities about the spot on which they had encamped. The
night was passed amidst almost intolerable suffering ; and when the day dawned it
was resolved to attack the enemy, and force a passage, if possible, to the banks of the
Jordan. Nothing could exceed the impetuosity of the two armies when sufficiently
near to make proof of their valour. The Saracens were fighting for an empire ; the
Christians for God, for the church, and for all that was dear to them either as men
or believers. Priests and bishops were among their leaders. The wood of the
true cross, it was believed, sanctified their standard ; and, if their sins did not
prevent the blessing, they might confide in the presence and defence of the
Almighty

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 59

But v.bether conscious of unwortmness or bowed down by fatigue, the resolution
of the Christians did not avail to support them against the fierce courage of the
infidel. The night closed upon the combatants ; but the following day the battle
was renewed with similar ferocity. When all appeared lost, the King of Jerasalem,
who had taken his stand on one of the peaks of Mount Hutin, summoned the foot-
soldiers, who were climbing up the hill, to join the knights engaged in defending the
holy standard. But they replied, that they could fight no more ; that they were
dying of heat and thirst. All that could now be done was to defend, as a last duty
and effort, the wood of the true cross. The knights were directed by the king to
form a sort of camp around it. But this was no sooner done than parties of the
Saracens ascended the hill; and the Bishop of Ptolemais, who bore the sacred
standard, was shot through with a dart. As he sank bleeding to the earth, he gave the
precious relie to the Bishop of Lydda ; and a brave attempt was still made to save
it from the hands of the enemy. But at length the cry was heard, " Save himself who
can ! the battle is over ! " All was indeed lost ; and the bravest and the most
timid of those who had ascended the mountain sprung fi-om rock to rock, or threw
themselves down the precipice, and forced their way as they best could over the
heaps of slain, or through the ranks of the enemy, now weary with slaughter.

Among those who surrendered themselves, as seeing no hope of escape, were the
King of Jerusalem; the Bishop of Lydda; Raynald of Chatillon, the breaker of the
truce ; the Master of the Templai-s ; and many of the knights both of that order and
of that of St. John. Count Raymond was among those who escaped. He tied to
Tripoli; but died soon 'after of despair, produced, it was suspected, by the re-
proaches which he heaped upon himself for the part wliich he had first taken, when
entering into a league with Saladin.

The conqueror ordered his tent to be raised on the field of battle. Guy of Lusig-
naii, and the other illustrous captives, were brought into his presence. Their ap-
I>earance proved how much they had suffered. Moved with generous pity, he
directed his attendants to prepare a beverage cooled with snow. When the
unfortunate King of Jerusalem had partaken of the refreshing cup he handed it to
Raynald of Chatillon, who stood near him. On seeing this, Saladin directed his
interpreter to say to the king, " It is you, not I, who gke him drink ; for I will
have no communion with this wretch."

Saladin by speaking thus gave a terrible intimation of the fate which Raynald
might expect. Ancient custom prohibited the Arabians from ever doing aught
against one to whom they had given meat or drink ; and the reliisal of such refresh-
ment to a stranger was equivalent to a declaration of intended revenge.* To indi-
cate his design still more clearly, Saladin, on directing his attendants to prepare a
repast for the other captives, pointedly excluded Raynald from the proffered
hospitaUty.

• Wilken, Gesehichte der Kreuzziige. B. iv. K. v. p. 289.

60 THE CHRISTIAN IX PALESTINE.

After due time had been given for the refreshment of the unfortunate king, and his
fellow-prisoners, they were recalled into the presence of their conqueror. Saladin
bent his eye sternly on Raynald, and reminded him of the cruelties and insults
which he had perpetrated against so many unoffending Mussulmans ; of the injus-
tice of which he had been guilty in breaking the truce ; and of his fierce enmity to
the Mahometan name and religion. He then commanded him to retract his mju-
rious language and give honour to the prophet.

As in other instances of such men, the darkest features of Raynald's character
derived a degree of lustre from his fidelity, as a knight and a warrior, to the Christian
cause. To the menacing looks of Saladin he retmned others as haughty ; and de-
clared with a firm voice, that no fear of death should ever induce him to prove un-
faithful to the religion of Christ. Saladin, on hearing him thus speak, rose from his
seat, and drawing his scimitar struck a blow at Raynald, which cut throtigh his
shoulder-blade. The attendants seeing their master's intention, immediately rushed
upon the wounded count, and felled him lifeless to the earth.

Guy de Lusignan and his companions trembled as they beheld the fate of Ray-
nald. They cherished but little hope of escaping a similar death. Saladin saw the
expression of teiTor on their countenances ; and with the generous spirit by which
he was animated, when his own sense of right and wrong was not outraged, he im-
mediately reassiured them, and especially declared to the King of Jerusalem, that it
was contrar)' to the laws of the Mussulmans for one king to slay another.

But the next day, the Knights Templai's and Hospitallers who had been made
prisoners, were brought before him, as he sat surrounded by his counsellors, priests,
and doctors of the law.* Pointing to the captives, he told his great men that he gave
to each of them the prixilege of slaying one of the prisoners. Several of the courtiers
shrunk from the idea of taking part in such a slaughter. But the rest shared with
their master in his hatred to the name of these orders of Christian chivalry. As the
unfortunate knights were heavily chained they were slaughtered without difficulty.
A feiTent enthusiasm animated them to the last. They viewed themselves as maitjTS ;
and many prisoners were present who, deeply affected by their heroism and devotion,
proclaimed that they were Templars or Hospitallers for the mere purpose of dying
with them. Such were the immediate results of the battle fought on the heights of
Hutin. Others still more important followed ; but the account of which we reserve
to a ftiture chapter.

Hasselquistt describes the country from Nazareth to Mount Tabor, as a
noble, picturesque, and finely wooded region. After a journey of about two
hoiurs he came to the foot of the mountain, in the ascent of which he was re-
freshed by the agreeable dews which were falling, and by the milk of its fine herds
of goats. He considered the path leading to the summit to be a league in length.
* Michaud Hist, des Crusades : Wilken.

t A celebrated Swedish traveller, who lived in the middle of the eighteenth century. His notes
were edited by Linnajus, such was their value in the eves of that distinguished naturalist.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 61

It was Stony and difficult ; but on reaching the summit he found a beautiful and
fertile plain, on the rocky sides of which were to be seen the ruins of a church,
formerly frequented by Christian pilgrims.

Mount Tabor is described as almost insulated, and overtops all the neigh-
bouring summits. On the south and west extends the plain of Esdraelon. To
the south of this plain rise the mountains of Nabloiis, and to the north those of
Nazai-eth. The shape of Mount Tabor is that of a truncated cone ; its sides being
covered to the very summit with a forest of oak and wild pistachio-trees. We found,
says Burckhardt,* a single family living on the top of the mountain. They were
refugees from the village of Ezra, where he had known them in 1810. Having fled
from their former residence to avoid paying taxes, they had settled in this remote
spot, where they hoped to remaui entirely unnoticed. The rent which they paid to
the Sheikh of Dahoury, to which village the mountain belongs, was fifty piastres per
annum. Such was then success, that the harshest which they were then gathering in
was worth twelve hundred piastres ; nor had they hitherto been disturbed by tax-
gatherers ; which, however, obsen-es Burckhardt, would certainly not be the case
shoiUd they remain there another year.

The remains of a large fortress are found on the top of the mountain; and a strong
wall may still be traced surrounding the summit, and running close to the edge of
the precipice. A lofty arched gate, called the Gate of the Winds, and which is sup-
posed to have been the principal entrance, is also shown. Nor is this the only ruin
on the top of the mountain. The area is said to be covered with the remains of
what are supposed to have been private dwelUngs ; but which were built of stone
with great solidity.

Mount Tabor is a vast limestone rock. WUd bears and ounces abound in the
woods which cover its sides. Till mid-day heavy clouds surround its summit ;
and they are only dispersed by the strong winds which career wildly about its
top.

D'Arvieux describes Tabor in similar terms ; adding that Helena, the mother of
Constantine, built a church on the height of this mountain, in memory of our Lord's
transfiguration. The edifice thus raised having fallen into decay, was replaced by
another, built in the middle ages. This, he says, has three little chapels close to
each other, being iu a sort of grotto or cave, but encumbered with ruins. Haring
caused the entrance to be cleared by some Arabs in attendance, be entered a narrow
passage, which led into a little vestibule, consisting of four arcades crossing each
other. According to tradition, that in front of the entrance was the spot on which
our Lord stood, and was called his tabernacle ; the other two were called the
tabernacles of Moses and Elias. Each little chapel had its altar ; and many were
the pilgrims who sought, in early times, that solemn retreat from the toil and con-

* Travels in Syria aaid the Holy Land, p. 333.

62 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

fiision of the world, to meditate on the subHme mysteries involved in our fiOrd's
transfiguration.

Some learned men iiave doubted whether Tabor ought to be regarded as the
scene of that event. No mention of this mountain occurs either in the Gospels or in
the writings of the primitive fathers. But it was cunently believed to be the
mount of transfiguration as early as the fourth century ; and it continued to be so
regarded with little variety of testimony. One of the old Itineraries speaks of
the Mount of Olives as the scene of the transfiguration ; but no credit appears to
be given to this opinion, and it would now be difficult to disassociate from the
name of Mount Tabor the grand ideas connected with the event of which we are
speaking.*

From the summit of Mount Tabor the eye ranges over a vast and noble extent of
country. To the north lies the Mediterranean, its soft, blue waters presenting a
strange contrast to the rude rocks and woods of the neighbouring shores. The
noble plain of Esdraelon extends from the west to the south, on which side it is
bordered by the hills of Hermon, the sweet dews of which were regarded of old
as a fitting emblem of holy concord and unity : " Behold, how good and how
pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity ! It is hke the precious ointment
upon the head, that ran down upon the beard, even Aaron's beard, that went down
to the skirts of his garments ; as the dew of Hermon, and as the dew that descended
upon the mountains of Zion : for there the Lord commanded the blessing, even hfe
for evermore."! On the same side ran the several little streams which, united, form
the river Kishon. The ancient towns of Nain and Endor were situated in the same
direction ; while to the east extend the mountains of Gilboa, so celebrated in
ancient writ : " Ye mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew ; neither let there be
rain upon you, nor fields of offerings : for there the shield of the mighty is vilely cast
away, the shield of Saul, as though he had not been anointed with oil."| On the
north-east is the Lake of Tiberias, with its now almost deserted, but once peopled and
busy shores. Other spots are visible from the top of the mountain, supposed to be
those on which great events occurred, or on wliich great tniths were spoken.

Of the places thus visible from Tabor, there are two which cannot be mentioned
without exciting the mind to earnest and interesting reflection. Endor and Nain,
or the spots on which they stood, are both seen from the summit of Tabor ; and
though now but insignificant villages, if they even deserve that name, they have still
the immortality which history and tradition can so richly bestow. Little is recorded

• Dr. Robinson (Travels in Palestine, vol. iii. sec. xiv. p. 221) displays his usual learning and ability
in his description of Mount Tabor. He spe.iks strongly against the identity of this mountain with
that on wliicii our Lord was transfigured. Tlie only very important circumstance, however, in support
of his argument is, that long before and after the period of tlie transfiguration, a fortifiea city sur-
mounted the top of Tabor. But even to this it would not be difficult to suggest an answer.

t Psalm cxxxiii, + 2 Sam. i. 21.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 63

of either place ; but that little is intimately associated with a wonderfiil class of
events. The most indolent imagination is excited at the awful and stirring account
which is given of Saul's visit to the witch of Endor. How dreadful was the state of
the forlorn king ! His spirit broken ; his soul agitated by a host of distracting
passions ! He dare not go to the holy of holies to seek counsel of God ; and yet
he was burning with anxiety to know the futiu-e. In the darkness of night, con-
cealed and trembling, he pursued the sohtaiy path which led to the witch's dwelling.
The very purpose which he had in view was enough to overpower a stronger spirit
than his, bowed down as he then was with a thousand cares and indefinite apprehen-
sions. Awfully true was it in his case that, " coming events cast their shadows
before." The gloom of the night foretold the storms of the morrow. Fantastic
shapes flitted to and fro among the beetling precipices. A voice was heard like that
of the prophet in after times, " Tophet is ordained of old ; yea, for the king it is
prepared ; he hath made it deep and large ; the pile thereof is fire and much wood ;
the breath of the Lord, Uke a stream of brimstone, doth kindle it." * As the despairing
monarch wended his way through the valley, every step he set seemed to separate
him so much further from his God. He was about to perform an act prohibited by
the divine law ; one which only dark and estranged spirits could meditate upon
without overwhelming terror. The existence of some strange and awful relation
between the perverted human soul and the powers of darkness, is solemnly
recognized in the enactions of the old law : " Regard not them that have familiar
spirits." t " There shall not be found among you any one that maketh his son or
his daughter to pass through the fire, or that useth divination, or an observer of
times, or an enchanter, or a witch, or a channer, or a consulter with familiar spirits,
or a wizard, or a necromancer." |

Deeply impressed as these commandments, and their attendant associations, were
on the mind of the unhappy king, he could not but feel that every circumstance
of the night, everj' feature of the wild scenery around him, had some connexion
with his own unholy purpose. He felt that futurity had nothing in store for him but
humiliation and anguish ; yet he would force it to reveal the worst. Faith, reason,
the teachings of experience, the warnings of conscience, all yielded to the stormy
influences of a vague terror. In days now gone for ever, this fallen monarch had
been permitted to feel the raptures of inspiration ; had caught a ghmpse of the
sublime fiitiu-e as its ample volume lay partially unrolled before the sons of the
prophets. How large a price would he have paid to recover the blessings of his
youth ! to experience again, even in the slightest degree, the splendid trium])h of
the soul, led by the Divine Spirit to contemplate the plans of Providence ! But in-
stead of this, he was now to consort with the children of darkness, with phantoms of
the nether world ; to force utterance fi'om the dead ; to make the prince of the
powers of the air tell him what God saw good to liide.

• Isaiali XXX. 33. f Leviticus xxx. 31. t Deut. xviii. !0, 11,

64 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

Endor lay about four miles from Mount Tabor, at the head of a spring of waters
running along the whole length of the neighbouring valley. It never appears to
have been a place of much importance ; and its situation in this wild, mountainous,
district was well calculated to foster the dai-k superstitions on which the gloomy spirit
of witchcraft loved to brood.

Tradition aflbrds us no clue to the character or history of the woman whose abode
the King of Israel was seeking. It may be fairly supposed, from the reputation
which she enjoyed as holding communion with the unseen world, that she was no
ordinary person. Whatever the degree of guilt attending the practices to which she
was devoted, her state was that of one strangely elevated above the mass of her
fellow-beings by unearthly knowledge. The imagination easily traces out the cu--
cumstances which mainly contributed to her attempting the perilous paths of for-
bidden inquiry. Some bewildering passion of early youth ; some long-cherished,
and then thwarted hope perverted and broke her heart. To find her way out of the
labyrinths of despair, she could no longer ask for light from heaven— she had fallen
too low for that. But there was still too much of life in her spirit to let it sink into
mere earthhness. Where then was she to seek for companionship but among those
awful beings of whom she had heard when conversing with the ancient people of her
village, and to whom the power was traditionally ascribed of revealing the secrets of
the fiiture, working the weal or woe of all who had not the shield of the divine blessing?

Terrible must have been the agony of thought with which she first ventured upon
the forbidden path ; terrible the sensations accompanying the first whispered incan-
tation. AVhen Saul sought her abode she had long been familiar with the fearful life
which a human sold must lead when in supposed communion with death and
darkness. Deceived herself, and deceiving others, she lived in a state of mingled
terror and expectation ; dreaming of strange thuigs to be, at length, perhaps, accom-
plished ; trembling at the wrath of Heaven ; exidting in a feeling of power ; dehghting
in the scorn, so amply satisfied by the dread with which she could inspii-e her
trembling visitors. Her fame, spread in mysterious whispers through the countrj',
appears to have been at its height when the wretched King of Israel stole, under the
shadow of night, to her obscure dwelUng. There were, no doubt, many pretenders
to the arts which she practised. But it was she, the witch of Endor, who had in-
spired the hearts of the king's warlike attendants with the conviction that a woman
might control the inhabitants of other worlds ; might force from their lips the secrets
of fiiturity, and render them subservient to human purposes. Endor, but for her,
would have been, ages back, a forgotten place. But for her it would never have
been named iu historj', or attracted the steps of the meanest of the captains in the
hosts of Said. But here was the monarch himself at her door. Such was the con-
fidence in her power which prevailed among his people, that those who stood
nearest his person could venture to promise that his burning, torturing desire to
know the future should be satisfied by her revelations. The necessity of disguise ;

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 65

the sacrifice of dignity ; the toils and perils of the night-journey among ihe moun-
tains, aU tend to prove that the value set upon the supernatural ability of the witch
of Endor was of no ordinary kind.

Gloomy were the shadows which hung over the patli of the monarch as he sought
the witch's house. But they were deeper and heavier on his return. The darkness
of an inevitable doom surrounded him. Tenible as the voice of Samuel sounded
when he first pronounced the sentence of God's anger upon him, none of the feelings
which it then excited could be compared with those which it now awakened. When
the king and his awe-struck attendants began to retrace their way to the royal camp,
the first faint glimmering of the dawn might probably be already seen on the tops
of the mountains. And as the light increased, darker and darker gi-ew the spuit of
the wretched Saul. The day that was breaking upon the world was to be the last for
him and his sons. But the terror which would have ovenvhelmed his soul soon gave
way to fiercer passions. The enemy was crowding the heights and valleys. Wild
shouts, the hoarse braying of the trumpets, filled the air. The soul of the king rose
at the summons. He forgot, for the time, the terrors of the night, the voice of the
prophet. Borne by the stream of battle, he thought not whither it was carrying
him, tLU, like a broken, stranded vessel, he lay helplessly waiting the retiu-ning siu-ge
to bury him in the deep.

Very different are the associations connected with the neighbouring village of
Nain. But how many feelings of tender and pious gratitude are awakened in the
heart by the mention of its name ! Had the benevolent Jesus wrought no other
mu-acle than that which he performed at the gate of this little city, it would have
been sufficient to convince thoughtful and susceptible souls that he was entitled to
their profoundest homage. The saddest of all mourners, the widowed mother of an
only son, was passing under the gate of the city as he was about to enter it. IMany
of the inhabitants accompanied her. There is a dignity and a power in sorrow
which both attract and subdue the most ordinary minds. No human grief, except
in strange, mysterious combinations with the future and the unearthly, could exceed
hers, if measured according to its circumstances. All the dear ties of home, all
early associations and affections were still entire while the only son was still spared
to her. He was the living centre of her thoughts. For him alone she cared to
remain in this world. From him alone she learnt that there was stUl something to be
hoped for in the patient struggles, the mingled joys and sorrows, of the present
life.

But on some sad day the hectic flush was seen on his cheek. Was it the sudden
glow of deeper health ? Was it the passing light of a noble, exciting thought ? Was
it the sign that some recollected folly was paining the heart ? Alas ! it was the
warning that death stood nigh at hand, with an awful and kingly beauty on his brow,
ready to summon another bright attendant to his courts. The instinct of the
mother's fear was nobly met by the antagonist instinct of filial love. " I shall not

bb THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

die, but live ! " was the answer to all her painfully uttered apprehensions. And love
in this, as in all other instances, both knew more, and was more powerful, than fear.
The son had a feehng of the might and of the goodness of the Son of God in his
heart. He could not express, he could not describe, his belief; but he knew that
he should not be left under the power of death. Whether that recoveiy was to be
at the last day ; whether there was some wonderful intermediate stage in the journey
from this world to the higher and nobler abode oi' spirits ; or that he was to be brought
back when midway on his journey to eternity, by some arm mightier than that of deatli,
— how he was stiU to be preserved within the sphere of human hearts and sympathies,
it was not for him to tell. But his thoughts were ever an-anging themselves into
glorious confessions ; his feelings and aspirations foimd their utterance in the one
fervent sentiment so often uttered to his broken-hearted mother, " I know that my
Redeemer liveth ! "

" Though the inward man decayeth, the outward man is renewed day by dav-"
How often has this sublime saying of the apostle been ^^sibly fulfilled ! Was it not
so in the widow's son ? Did she not see and feel that, while his frame was moment
axily yielding to the invasion of disease, there was a fountain of health, a power of
inapproachable life, which, in the words of the poet,

" Gave forth new light through chinks which time had made."

But the liour of his departure was full of sadness to the mother, though of triumph
to the son. His lips were mute, her heart had no voice. The cold form lay before
her ; it had lost the traces which had given, even to sickness, a kind and famdiar
look. So altogether earthly as it was, it now wanted the common familiarity of
earthhness. The only thought that kept its distinct and constant place in her mind
was, that it woidd not take her long to finish her work and die. But, cold and mo-
tionless as was the form which lay before her, it became every moment more precious
to her heart. Hour after horn- it seemed as if life were ready to return to it. Could
time be given, this feeling would, in most cases, so grow, that the longmgs of affection
would create hope, and the sweet delusion would overcome the daiker anguish of
giief. But this is not allowed. The widow's son was laid on the bier, and earned
forth. Grief had now no support but that which it could derive from trust in divine
mysteries, fi-om its grand belief in the sovereign power of etemtd love. And it
was, perhaps, just as the mother's heart had triumphed over its natural despair,
just as it was perfonning within its own troubled recesses the great act of faith and
homage, that the Saviom- stood before her, ready to accomplish for her at once, as in
a higher degree he will accomphsh for all believers by and bye, the promise wliich
love had taught her, — the profound lesson of trust and devotion, which the sanctified
soul at its departure would so fain impress upon the feehngs of sorrowing affection
" And wlien the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her, and said unto her. Weep
not. And he came and touched the bier, and they that bare him stood still. And

tUE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 67

he said, Young mau, I say unto thee, arise ! And he that was dead sat up, and
began to speak; and he delivered liim to his mother."*

The little town of Nain, at the gate of which this beautiful incident occurred, was
situated, according to ancient authority, in the neighbourhood of Endor and Scytho-
polis. It is supposed from its name, which signifies what is pleasant or comely, to
have been distinguished for its rural beauty and prosperity. At present it scarcclv
pretends to the rank of a village. ' Even the most curious traveller hardly cares to
turn from the beaten path to look at the spot where the widow's son was restored to
his broken-hearted mother by the saving power of Chiist. Bouchard, as quoted by
Lightfoot, says,t " Two leagues from Nazareth, not much above one from Mount
Tabor, southward, is Mount Hebron the less, on the north side of which is the city of
Nain." Lightfoot himself says that he was very much inclined to believe that Nain
is the same place as that mentioned under the name of Enganium in the book of
Joshua. X He founds this opinion on the similar signification of the names ; Nain
meaning pleasantness, and Enganium, a founiabi and gardens. " Enganium," he
adds, " lies directly in the way, going fi'om Galilee to Jerusalem ; and so, as is vejy
evident, did our Nain." Of this place our countryman Biddulph says, " A town,
commonly called Senine — of old, Garganium ; exceedingly pleasant, abounding with
waters and gardens, and delightsome walks."

It is hardly possible for the livehest imagination to realize the past loveliness ann
happy population of those abodes of pleasantness — of those villages of fountains and
gardens. Melancholy as are the reflections which arise at the contemplation of
majestic cities laid in ruins by time, by wars or revolutions, a still sadder feeling
possesses the earnest mind when the eye rests upon a deserted rural district ; upon
populous villages now wasted into insignificance, but which once imbibed from the
fidl fountains of the land rich and blessed fruitfulness, a life radiant of its benign
original. There is so much of human policy, of the pride and the selfishness of man,
in the mightier marts of society, that when they fall into decay we easily suppress
the rising sigh by reflecting, that out of the ruins of this or that city, or empire, the
materials have been provided for the ibundation of others. Those which have fallen
were raised by the changing currents of human fortune. Their fall was to be looked
for according to the common course of worldly events. Humanity, if it has lost on
the one side, has gained on the other. But this is not the case where a country has
become desolate in its once happy, fertile, agricultural districts. Rome, Athens,
Jerusalem itself, do not so completely prove the ruined glory of their respective
states as the misery, depopulation, and barrenness of their neighbouring villages.
While the courage, industry, and strength of the people remain ; while the blessing
from above is continued to their labour, and to the land which they till, fields and
hamlets will defy the revolutions which overthrow cities. When they cease, ihc

* Lukevii. 13— 15. + Woilvs,Vol X. Chorographical Xotes, sec. 2, 3. J Ch. xix. 2! ; xxi.Sa.

68 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

awful indication is given that the stream of heavenly love is turned into another
direction ; that the mighty, ever active blessing which had such power to cover the
land with plenty, and to fill men's hearts with joy and gladness, has ceased to
operate ; and that it is not the mere revolution of states which has changed the
appearance of the country, but the mysterious operation of di^■ine counsels.

The approach to Tiberias finnishes numberless points of view from which fhe
traveller may delight himself with contemplating scenes of the noblest character.
Presenting every variety of mountain and valley, of broad glades and beetling
precipices, lies the outstretched plain, wliile the city afar off still seems lapped in its
ancient security and strength.

" After ascending slowly for about two hours," says a late traveller ; " we reached
the summit of this slope, and came suddenly in sight of the lake and town of
Tiberias. We found ourselves again on the brow of a steep hdl, facing to the east-
ward, and forming the western bovmdary of the hollow in which the lake is contained.
The view from hence is grand and interesting. To the south, inclining easterly,
the vale of the Jordan was distinctly open : to the south-west, the rounded top of
Tabor rose above the intervening hiUs ; to the north, the lofty Libanus rears its
snow-clad head ; while the bare and yellow mountains of the eastern shore served
but to give a brighter blue to the scarcely ruffled waters of the lake below. The
town from hence has a more completely Moorish appearance, from its high walls
and circular towers, than any other I had yet seen in Palestine. The waters, on
whose western edge it stands, were as stUl as those of the Dead Sea, from being
confined in a deep basin, and hemmed closely in by opposite ranges of hiUs. The
scenery around possessed many features of grandeur, though destitute of wood and
verdure." *

The whole plain of Esdraelon abounds in signs of the ancient importance of the
district. Here the labours of the peasant were most richly rewarded ; here the
devout child of God, the inspired prophet might find the securest sohtude ; and here
the wamor might exercise most effectually his skill in the secret ambush, or the
open conflict. Travellers have wandered with curious steps fi'om one border of the
plain to the other, and every hill and rock, and retired valley has afforded some new
occasion for the exercise of ingenious inquirj'. The sublime forms of Tabor and
Hermon, rising majestically above the surrounding scenes, fill the mind with solemn
thoughts ; and as it contemplates their mysterious heights, enveloped in clouds and
darkness, the visions of hoar antiquity pass before it, and it feels as if the rugged
crags and precipices were intended to represent, hke the symbolic ornaments of
the temple, the presence or power of Deity.

The plain of Esdraelon, viewed in its full extent, is above thirty miles long, from
east to west, and eighteen broad, from north to south. Remarkable as it has always

* Buckingham's Falestiiie, p. 458.

■ ^

THE CHRISTIAN IX PALESTINE. 59

been . for fertility, it owes none of its beauty or giandeur to forest scenery. The
level champaign, and the deep winding valley, are alike without trees. It may be
questioned by the curious inquirer, whether this is to be attributed to the nature of
the soil, or to the persevering industry of the husbandmen inhabiting this portion
of the country. But the interest attached to spots formerly the sites of populous
cities, to districts once famous for the wealth and prowess of their inhabitants is
strongly excited by the traditionary accounts of this beautiful plain. In the first ages
of Jewish history, during the most eventful period of the Roman empire, at the time
of the crusades, and even in our own days, it has successively witnessed many a con-
flict determining the fate of kings and their people. " Here it was," says Dr. Clarke,
" that Barak, descending with his ten thousand from Mount Tabor, discomfited Sisera,
and all his chariots, ' even nine hundred chariots of iron,' and all the people that were
with him, gathered as they had been, ' from Harosheth of the Gentiles unto the river
Kishon.' Here it was that all that mighty host ' fell upon the edge of the sword, so
that there was not a man left;' when the kings came and fought, the kings of
C.'anaau in Taanach, by the waters of Megiddo. And here it was that Josiah, King
of Judah, fought in disguise against Necho, King of Egypt, and fell by the anows
of his antagonist. The great mourning in Jerusalem foretold by Zecliariah, is said
to be as the lamentations in the plain of Esdraelon, or, according to the language of
the prophel, 'as the moumuig of Hadadrimmon in the valley of Megiddon.'"* " It
has been," says the same writer, " a chosen place for encampment in every contest
earned on in this country from the days of Nabuchodonosor, King of the Assyrians,
(in the history of whose war with ArjDhaxad, it is mentioned as the great plain of
Esdraelon,) until the disastrous march of Napoleon Buonaparte from Egj-pt into
Syria. Jews, Gentiles, Saracens, Christian crusaders, and Anti-Christian French-
men ; Egyptians, Persians, Druses, Turks, and Arabs ; warriors out of every nation
which is under heaven, have jjitched their tents upon the plain of Esdraelon, and
have beheld the various banners of their nations wet with the dews of Tabor and
Hermon." t

Another traveller, alluding to the numerous conflicts of wliich the plain of
Esdraelon has been the scene, says, " At present there is peace, but not that most
visible e^ddeuce of enduring peace, a thriving population. We counted in our road
across the plain only five very small villages, consisting of wretched mud-hovels,
chiefly in nuns, and very few persons moving on the road. We might again tmly
apply to this scene the words of Deborah : ' The highways were unoccupied : the
inhabitants of the ullages ceased, they ceased in Israel.' "

The village of Genuyn, or Jenin, according to the same traveller, is situated at
the entrance of one of the numerous vales which lead out of the plain of Esdraelon
to the moimtainous regions of Ephrata. " One of the passages would be the valley

• Zechariah, xiL 11. t Travels, vol. iv. 255.

70 THi; CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

of Jezreel ; and from the window of the khan where we are lodging we have a clear
view of the tract over which tlie prophet Elijah must have passed, when he girded
up his loins and ran before Ahab to the entrance of Jezreel. But in the present
day, no chariots of Aluib or of Sisera are to be seen, not even a single wheel-
carriage of any description whatever. The public wells by the road-side have no
pulleys or wheels to assist in drawing water ; for who would expose for public use,
what his neighbour would not have the least scniple in secretly stealing away ? Tlie
roads among the mountains are, indeed, so neglected, such mere single foot-paths,
that it is difficult to imagine in what way chariots could now convey the traveller to
Jerusalem, or over the chief part of the Holy Land."*

Jeuin is described by another traveller as presenting at a distance the appearance
of a handsome city, but as being in reality full of wretchedness, possessing only
some relics of its former splendour, as ruined mosques, broken fountains, and
mutilated pillars, signs of the melancholy contrast between its past and present
state.

This once celebrated city was, say some, the ancient Jezreel. Here Ahab had his
palace, and the luxurious gardens, the beauty and extent of which in vain solicited his
admiration so long as they were skirted by the vineyard of Naboth. Never did
divine justice more signally pursue iniquity than in the case of the folly-besotted
Ahab and the wretched Jezebel. The fate of both husband and wife was awfully
associated with the locality of Esdraelon : " In the place," said Elijah to Ahab,
"where dogs hcked the blood of Naboth, shall dogs Hck thy blood, even thine." J
And of Jezebel also spoke the Lord, saying, " The dogs shall eat Jezebel by the
wall of Jezreel." § And then the startling particularity, the fearful distinctness of the
Ibllowing prophecy ! — " Him that dieth of Ahab in the city the dogs shall eat ; and
him that dieth in the field shall the fowls of the air eat." ||

In the time of Eusebius and Jerome, Jezreel was a place of considerable import-
ance : they describe it as lying between Scythopolis or Bethshan, and the town
called Legeon. Eusebius speaks of it under the Greek name of Esdraela; whence
the appellation of the surrounding plain, Mention is made in the book of Judges If
of the valley of Jezreel. This was either some narrow pass among the hills between
Hermon and Gilboa ; or only a particular division of the plain itself, plain and valley
being spoken of in scriptural language without distinction. In the following chapter
the well of Harod is mentioned ; and this, it is supposed, might be the fountaix
which is in Jezreel, near which the Israelites encamped in their war with the
Philistines, just before the death of Saul. **

* Jowott's Christian Resoaiclies in Syria and the Holy Land, p. 191.
t JoIlilTe, Letters from Palestine, p. 43. J 1 Kings, xxi. 19.

§ I Kings, xxi. 23. || I Kings, xxi. -24.

' Chap, vi, :« .* 1 Sam. xxi.x. 1.

THE CHUISTI.VN IN PALESTINE. 71

But while Jenin has been confidently spoken of by travellers as the ancient
Jezreel ; others, with greater probability, find the site of that city in the present
village of Zer' in. Dr. Robinson has examined the subject with his usual patience
and ingenuity, and determines in favour of the latter. Having left Jenin at 4f , he
set out with his companions, to traverse the plain in the direction of Zer' in. " We
crossed," he says, " the arm or offset of the plain, which here extends up S.E.,
and found all the water-courses, though now dry, running off westward, as do
those also from the southern hills ; all going to swell, in the rainy season, that
ancient river, the river Kishon, as it flows towards the Mediterranean. In the plain
are occasionally low ridges and swells. Perched high on the summit of one of the
naked peaks of Gilboa, the vUlage Wezar was a conspicuous object, and apparently
had been once a fortress."

In less than an hour the party reached a village called Araneh, and the broad
western end of Gilboa. Thence the path led over occasional slight spurs or roots of
the mountain, stretching down still further westwards. From these points, the travellers
had extensive views of all the extent of the great plain, spread out to the left, and
of the long blue ridge of Carmel beyond. The prospect was charming for its rich
fertility and beauty. Yellow fields of graiu, with green patches of cotton and
millet interspersed, checkered the landscape like a carpet. The plain itself, it is
sard, was almost without villages, but several might be seen on the slope of Carmel,
and on the hills further to the left.

At seven o'clock the travellers reached Zer' in. "Thus far," says Dr. Robmson,
" we had been travelling over the plain, which here might be called undulating ;
in consequence of the slight spurs and swells above described. Further west it
seemed perfectly level, with a general dechvity towards the Mediten-anean, to which
its waters flow off. As we approached Zer' in, there was only a very gentle rise of
the siu-face, like another low swell, and it was, therefore, quite unexpected to us, on
reaching that village, to find it standing upon the brow of a veiy steep rocky descent,
of one hundred feet or more, towards the N.E. where the laud sinks off" at once
into a great fertile valley, running down E.S.E. along the northern wall of the
mountains of Gilboa. This valley is itself a broad deep plain ; its water-bed nms
along under the rocky declivity on the right, and then under Gilboa ; while on the
other, or north-eastern side, the giound slopes gradually upwards to the base of the
'little Hermon.'"

Not a gUmpse of Tabor can be caught from this part of the plain, enclosed as it
is between the ranges of Gilboa and the little Hermon. Here, however, the acro-
pohs of Beisan was distinctly visible. The mins of other towns or villages might
also be seen on the heights ; and firom the direction of the water-courses, the
travellers were enabled to describe the country before them, as " a second arm, or
branch of the great plain of Esdraelon, running down eastward, between the two

72 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

parallel ridges of mountain's, quite to the Jordan ; thus regularly connecting toe
valley of the latter with the great plain above, and further west, without any steep
ascent or pass."

Pursuing his observations. Dr. Robinson adds, " In the vaUey directly under
Zer' in is a considerable fountain ; and twenty minutes further east, another larger
one, under the northern side of Gilboa, called Ain Jalud. Zer' in hself thus lies
comparatively high, and commands a wide and noble view ; extending down the
broad low valley on the east to Beisan, and to the mountains of Ajlun beyond the
Jordan ; while towards the west it includes the whole great plain, quite to the long
ridge of Carmel. It is a most magnificent site for a city, which being itself thus a
conspicuous object in every part, would naturally give its name to the whole region.
There could, therefore, be little question, that in and around Zer' in, we had before
us the city, the plain, the valley, and the fountain of the ancient Jezreel."*

Several ancient authors appear to have regai-ded Zer' in as occupying the position
of the favourite residence of Ahab. At present, like the other village which shares
tlie traditional honour of being the ancient Jezreel, it contains scarcely a remote
trace of former splendoiu:. Its few inhabitants are pooriy lodged, and can apparently
give httle account of the ruins which here and there strew the path. A dilapidated
tower of some height rises from the midst of the place, but is probably of no very
ancient origin. The same may be said of a sculptured sarcophagus, lying neglected
at the entrance of the \illage, and of some other reUcs of a similar character.

Mr. Bartlett gives a very interesting account of an encampment of Arabs, with which
he met in his journey from Nazareth to Tiberias. " I left," he says, " the viUage of
Deburich, at day-break — winding through the oak glades which form so beautiful a
cincture to the solitary cone of Tabor ; the long waving grass which fills up the inter\als
of the scattered forest-trees was heavy with dew, and their branches sometimes nearly
met over oiu heads. Tliough these are generally inferior in size to the oaks of our
own island, they were yet of sufficient growth to be highly picturesque. As we
passed in silence among them, we discerned on the bare topmost boughs of one of
the largest a group of eagles ; the gims of my company were raised in a moment,
but I would not suffer them to disturb these solitary tenants of the forest ; they
were startled, however, by the noise of our passage, and, spreading their broad wings,
mounted slowly and majestically towards the upper region of the mountain. Not
long after we came unexpectedly upon an open grassy area, on the left of the path,
surrounded by higher slopes, dotted with groups of trees, and presenting with singular
exactness the appearance of an undulating English park, in the midst of which were
spread out the black tents of an encampment of Bedouins. I was so struck with the
picturesque beauty of this sudden apparition, that without a word I turned off the
path, and made straight for the tents ; when, tmning my head, I perceived my

• Biblical Researches, vol. iii. p. 160.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 73

servant, Mukareh, and the brace of escorts I had picked up at Nazareth, following
after with ill-disguised uneasiness.

" The taste of Forest Gilpin or Uvedale Price could not have suggested a
happier or more picturesque position than these Arabs had chosen for their
temporary resting-place. The tents of the chief and his family were pitched
upon a grassy ridge, gently elevated above the rest, and sheltered by some dense
and wide-spreading oaks.* The tents are composed of a strong coarse stuff,
like sacking, woven in a broad mass of black relieved by a white hne ; and in
general appearance there is little doubt they coiTespond with those of the earliest
times. Such might have been the tent of Abraham beneath the terebinth-tree.
And the figures who gathered around us were tnily patriarchal in aspect ; an old
man, whose venerable face, with long white beard, was of caJm and benevolent ex-
pression, clothed in the broad and simple folds of his striped robe, and resting, hke
Jacob, on the top of his staff, sm'veyed us with quiet curiosity. Several others, dark
in hue almost to blackness, were couched upon the ground, and regarded us from
time to time from beneath the shade of their brilliant head-dresses of striped and
gilt handkerchiefs, with a less pleasing expression. They might well have personified
the turbulent sons of the Patriarch. We hked not the miquiet and sinister roving of
their keen black eyes. In the meantime my servant and escort were by no means at
their ease ; and, in reply to the curious inquiries of the Arabs, gave them to
understand that I was a Consulo Inglese, about to join the Pasha of Acre at his
neighbouring encampment. This salutary fiction, borne out by the unusual state in
which I happened to be travelling, repressed any disposition to take advantage of us.
They rose and crowded round my sketch, laughing with childish delight as I trans-
ferred rapidly to my paper some traits of their primitive appearance. Their women,
peeping from the tents, displayed harsh and bold faces, mth the wild black eye and
cunning expression of the gipsy ; they were clothed in loose dresses of blue
serge, gathered round the waist, and their 'pose' was noble and sculpturesque.
Flocks of sheep and goats were grouped around, and horses picketed by the tent
sides. All this in the heart of the forest, with the towering and woody crest of
Tabor above, constituted a scene of unusual interest and beauty.

" Tlie impatience of my companions hmi-ied me away ; thc)- retreated slowly
and without any appearance of alarm, but no sooner were we out of sight than they
quickened their paces to a gallop, assuring me that this was the very worst of those
half-shepherd, half-robber tribes belonging to the wild mountains beyond the Jor<lan,
who rove with their flocks about the luxuriant pasturages of tliis district, and who
would certainly have laid us under contribution but for the near presence of the
Pasha and his troops.

" I was glad, notwithstanding, to have had an opportunity of witnessing a scene

• See View.

74 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

which brought to my mind the exquisite lines of Thomson, in which, with such

singular felicity,

' depicted was the patriarchal age,
What time Ban Abraham left the Chaldee land,
And pastured on from verdant stage to stage,
Where field and fountains fresh could best engage
Toil was not then. Of nothing took they heed ;
But vrilh wild beasts the sylvan war to wage,
And o'er vast plains their herds and flocks to feed.'

" Apart from their predatory propensities, which, however, were those of their
contemporary tribes, such must have been indeed the pastoral life, wandering
habits, and very appearance of the venerable names of Jewish history. In the cha-
racter of these tribes themselves, there is often a marked difference, notwithstanding
their common descent ; some being, from local or accidental curcumstances, more
noble and less treacherous than others ; but, in general, their presence west of the
.Jordan adds to the insecurity of the quiet cidtivator of the soil— who, at present
placed between two evils, equally dreads the exactions of the Sultan's agents and
the lawless and unchecked depredation of these roviag plunderers. Thus the land
mourns and languishes, and its finest portions are often left to the wild luxuiiance of
nature."

Nothing of particular interest exists to attract the notice of the traveller, after
leaving the locality above described, tUl he approaches Tiberias. Pococke speaks
of a ruined city which he passed on the road, and beheved to be the ancient
Bethsaida of Galilee. This notion, however, appears to have been adopted too
hastily by that learned traveller. The remains of the city of Arbela are found near
the spot alluded to by Pococke, and it is supposed that the place now called Irbid,
is the same as that spoken of by Josephus under the appellation of Ai-bela. In the
immediate vicinity of the ancient city, on the beetling brow of the precipice, may
still be seen the ruins of a fortress, which from its situation must originally have
been a place of considerable strength. Burckhardt,* in describing the mountainous
character of the district, states that there are many natural caverns m the hme-
stone rocks, which have been united together by passages cut in the hill, and so
enlarged as to render them habitable. The natural openings have been defended
by walls built across them, and thus, no entrance coidd be effected, except through
the narrow communicating passages ; while small bastions were constructed
wherever the almost perpendicular chff permitted it, to defend the approach to the
castle, which seems to have been rendered as uearl_y as possible impregna-
ble. The huge overhanging rock forms its protection above; and the access
below is by a narrow path, so steep as not to allow of a horse mounting it. In the

• Travels, p. 331.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 75

midst of the caverns are several deep cisterns ; and it is calculated that the fortress
was capable of containing about six hundred men.

At the peiiod when Galilee was exposed to so large a share of the troubles which
afflicted the country in general, the wild moimtains of this district were the secure
resort of those well-orgauized troops of robbers which for a time defied all the
powers of the enfeebled state. Herod, in the early years of his reign, directed his
attention to the dangerous strength of the rocky fastnesses about Arbela. By the
\'igorous measures which he took, the robbers were at length dislodged ; and the
castle on the dizzy brink of the precipice described by Burckhardt became a place
of great security and importance. Of the ancient military value of this place, or
others in its immediate neighbourhood, some indication is supposed to exist in the
following denunciation of the prophet : " Ye have plowed wickedness ; ye have
reaped iniquity ; ye have eaten the fruit of lies ; because thou didst trust in thy
way, in the multitude of thy mighty men. Therefore shall a tumult arise among
thy people, and aU thy fortresses shall be spoiled, as Shalman spoiled Beth-Arbel
in the day of battle : the mother was dashed in pieces upon her children." *

The accounts which Josephus gives of the taking of these rocks about Arbela,
defended as they were by vast bands of robbers, afford a terrible picture of the
fierce spirit of the times. Herod, after an obstinate conflict, in which his
troops were at first defeated, succeeded in driving the main body of the robbers
beyond the river Jordan. A sufficient number, however, stiU remained to defend
the caverns. Their position enabled them to defy an army. It was impossible to
attack them effectually from the valley. But the soldiers of Herod, enraged at their
first defeat, resolved, at whatever cost, to make themselves masters of the rocks, and
their daring inhabitants. Finding how vain it would be to attempt to approach the
entrance from below, several huge boxes were fastened to chains, and the boldest
and strongest of the besieging party getting into them were let down the side of the
cliff, till they were opposite the entrances of the caverns. The struggle was a
tenible one. Overpowered, at length, by the repeated attacks of fi-esh assailants,
the robbers shrunk, fainting and terrified, to the remotest corners of the caves. But
it was in vain. The soldiers were provided with long hooks ; and the wretched
bandits, dragged out of their lair like wild beasts, were held for a moment suspended
on the ledge of the rock, and then dashed down the awful height into the valley
below, "t

Tiberias was founded by Herod Antipas ; we accordingly hear nothing of this
place till the incidental mention of it in the Gospel of St. John: "There came other
boats from Tiberias, nigli unto the place where they did eat bread, afler that tlic
Lord had given thanks." | And : " After these things Jesus shewed himself again to

• Hosea, x. 13, 14 + Josephus, Wars, b. i. c. xvi. 2—4. Antiq. xiv. c. xv. 4, 5.

$ Chap. vi. 23.

76 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

the disciples at the sea of Tiberias." * The ancient account of the building of this
city states, that the site on which it stood was formerly a common burying-place ;
or one, at least, in which many sepulchres existed. Herod, it is said, was obliged
to employ every inducement in his power, to persuade the people to come and take
up their abode in the city founded on such a spot. But the dehghtfiil character of
the situation induced him to persevere and overcome every obstacle, rather than not
enjoy so pleasant an abode. " For on this side the sea washing upon it ; on that
side, within a little way, Jordan gliding by it ; on the other side, the hot baths of
Shammath ; and on another, the most fruitful country, Gennesaret, adjacent, did
ever}' way begirt this city with pleasure and dehght."

Josephus iurther adds, that soon after its foundation, it so rapidly increased in
splendour and prosperity, that it became at last the chief city, not only of Gahlee,
but of the whole land of Israel. Whether it was only the beauty of the surrounding
country, and the persuasions of Herod, which rendered Tiberias so popular, or
whether the Jews might not be in some measm-e influenced by ancient tradition,
when hastening to the new city, may fairly be questioned. Although we hear
nothing of Tiberias itself till the laterperiodof Jewish history, it is said to have been
universally believed by the Jews themselves, that a fortified city existed on the same
spot in the most remote ages, that is, in the time of Joshua, when it was known by the
name of Rakkath.f Lightfoot quotes the Gemarists in proof of this tradition ; thus —
" Rakkath is Tiberias," say the Jerusalem Gemarists. And those of Babylon say
the same ; and that more largely. It is clear to us, that Rakkath is Tiberias. And
when, after a few lines, this of Rabbi Jochanan was objected : " When I was a boy,
I said a certain thing, concerning which I asked the elders, and it was found as I
said ; namely, that ' Chammath is Tiberias, and Rakkath Zippor.' " It is thus at
last concluded, " Rabbi said. Who is it to whom it was said, that Rakkath is not
Tiberias ? For behold ! when any one dies here (in Babylon) they lament him
there (at Tiberias) after this manner : The hearse of a famous man deceased in
Sheshach (Babylon) whose name also is of note in Rakkath, is brought hither.
Thus lament ye him, — ye lovers of Israel, O citizens of Rakkath, come forth, and
bewail the dead of Babylon ! When the soul of Rabbi Zeira was at rest, thus one
lamented him : The land of Babylon conceived, and brought forth dehghts : the
land of Israel nourished them. Rakkath said, Woe to itself, because she lost the
vessels of her dehghts. Therefore, saith Rabbi, Chammath is the same with the
warm baths of Gadar ; and Rakkath is Tiberias." X

Few things are more calculated to affect a thoughtful mind with solemn feelings
than the single mention of a city, the introduction of its name for the first and the last
time, in the volume of a historj- extending over fifteen centuries. Not a line, not a
word exists, to aid us in answering the question. What became of the once noble and

• Chap. xxi. 1. t Joshua, jdx, 85. J Chorographical Century. Works, vol. x. p. 138.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 77

beautiful city of Ratkath ? How did it cease to exist, and the spot on which it had
stood become a place of graves ? All that we know is, that the site which it occupied
had for ages been lone and desolate ; that the ruined sepulchres scattered about it
had dmost, from their very ancientness, lost the power of convincing men's licarts
that they were still sacred ; and that a worldly-minded prince, charmed with the
sweetness and amenity of the lovely spot, found it the most convenient in his terri-
tories for the situation of a new citj-.

But though Herod the Tetrarch perhaps consulted only his mere taste and con-
venience, it might not be so with those who most readily accepted the invitation to
take up their abode in Tiberias. With them, the traditions connected with the spot,
and familiar to them from childhood, perhaps even the neighbourhood of tombs
in which saints of the olden times had been laid to rest, might work on their imagi-
nation and nobler feelings, and aid in giving to the new city, as far as they were con-
cemed, a far higher character than that which it could derive from the most lavish
expenditure of princely revenues, or the finest efforts of art.

More powerful, however, than either the example, the patronage, and persuasions of
Herod, or the force of old tradition, was the fa\'our with which Tiberias was regarded
by the learned men of those days, as the most advantageous situation which they
could choose for the establishment of their schools and societies. It appears from
the records whicli exist, describing the labours of the Talmudists, that Tiberias wit-
nessed their earliest and most effective exertions on behalf of the learning of their
age and nation. But, unhappily both for their own times and for after ages, the
learaing which they cultivated was such as darkeneth rather than increaseth know-
ledge. " There are some," says Lightfoot, " who beheve the Holy Bible was pointed
by the wise men of Tiberias. I do not wonder at the impudence of the Jews, who
invented the story ; but I wonder at the credulity of the Christians who applaud it.
Recollect, I beseech you, the names of the Rabbins of Tiberias, from the first situa-
tion of the university there, to the time that it expired. And what at length do you
find, but a kind of men mad with pharisaism, bewitching with tracUtions, and bewil-
dered : blind, guileful, doating ; tlicy must pardon me, if I say, magical and mon-
sti'ous ? Men, how unfit, how unable, how foolish, for the undertaking so divine a
work ! " He then refers to the writings of the Rabbis most celebrated in the schools
of Tiberias, and exclaims, " See how earnestly they do nothing ! How childishly
they handle serious matters ! How much of sophistry, froth, poison, smoke, nothing
at all, there is in their disputes! And if you can believe the Bible was pointed in
such a school, believe also all that the Talmudists write. The pointing of the Bible
savours of the work of the Holy Spirit, and not the work of lost, blinded, besotted
men."

But strongly as it is contradicted that Tiberias or its schools supplied tlic
learned men who affixed the points to the Hebrew Bible, it is owned, that there
were thirteen synagogues in the city ; that it was rendered famous by the presence

78 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

of the great Sanhednm ; and that it is certain, that the Jerusalem Tahnud was
written there. Few places, therefore, can dispute with Tiberias the palm of learned
gloiy. That the labours of the Rabbis were devoted to subjects so Uttle likely to
edify men's souls or hearts must ever be lamented. But it is not necessary to accuse
them universally of wilful abuse or error. The pure knowledge of God's word had
long been sacrificed to the superstitions of a degenerate age. Men whose pro-
fession is learning, ai-e not always men of gi-eat capacity for independent thought or
inquiry. They may know much more than the generahty of men, but they may
have no more than the ordinaiy degree of intellectual force. Hence, whilst the
Rabbis obtained the credit, among their contemporaries, of profound erudition, they
were as ready as the rest of the Jews to occupy their minds with the traditions of
the elders. Thus the schools of Tiberias produced little other fruit than that of mul-
tiplied, strange, and subtle commentaries on vague narratives, passing down from
distant times, and tlirough uncertain, devious channels. There can be little doubt,
that some of those who employed their best thoughts on these naturally barren
themes, were men of earnest, energetic minds. It was their misfortune to be
diverted from a better course, not so much by their own will, as by the master
influences of their times.

Tiberias is often spoken of by Josephus. It was the chief place of the district
under his command ; and his zeal and military ability were often exhibited in the
care which he took to keep it in a proper state of defence. Its inhabitants were
exposed to great peril in the early conflicts which occurred between the Jews and
the Romans, shortly before the final ruin of the nation. On one occasion, twelve
hundred infirm aged people and children were savagely butchered in the stadium
of the neighbouring town of Tarichea, some thousands of the inhabitants having
previously perished in a battle on the lake, and in a vain attempt to defend the
walls. Tiberias, aware of its inability to oppose so formidable an enemy, had, in
the meantime, submitted to the Romans ; and seems to have enjoyed, in conse-
quence, a happy exemption from the afflictions which overwhelmed the rest of the
country. Long after the destruction of Jerusalem, Tiberias was a seat of learning.
The Sanhedrim still held its sessions there ; and the synagogues rejoiced in
flourishing congi'cgations. It was in the third century of the Cluistian era, that the
Talmud, known as the Jerusalem Talmud, was compiled by a learned man of
Tiberias. In the following centmy, St. Jerome found the scholars of Tiberias stUl
pursuing the same course of national erudition, as in former years. He considered
himself happy in being able to obtain one of their nulnber for his instruction in the
Hebrew language ; and the acuteness and laborious inquiries of that eminent
father, may be taken as a collateral proof of the ability of the class of men from whom
he selected his tutor.

Tiberias appears to have retained its eminence as a place of education, through
the whole of that dark and stormy period which intervened between the decline of the

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 79

Roman power, and the victories of Omar. We have but trifling and incidental accounts
of its state during the ages referred to. Intense, however, profound, and persevering
uuist have been the devotion of those who still gave themselves up to the pursuits of
literature while war and famine were at their verj- doors. The invasion of tiie
Persians, the successful advance of the Mohammedans, found the students of
Tiberias as closely and fondly occupied as ever with their curious speculations.
On the estabUshment of the Christian power in Palestine, Tiberias was erected into
a bishopric, and became the capital of the district assigned to Tancred. The
Jewish schools suffered severely from these events ; and though some few of the
more devoted famihes and students remained, Tiberias ceased thenceforth to be
the great and flourishing resort of rabbinical learning. Subsequent wars reduced
the place to insignificance ; and though it recovered, ft'om time to time, some
appearance of its ancient strength, it was quickly deprived again of its temporary
prosperity. Its state was sufficiently wretched when visited by travellers, shortly
before the earthquake of 1837 ; but by that terrible calamity it was reduced almost
to a mass of ruins, and near seven hundred of its unfortunate inhabitants were
either swallowed up in the yawning earth, or were crushed to death by the falling
buildings.

Beautiful as the situation of Tiberias is, on the shore of the lake, Bmxkhai-dt
describes it as verj' hot and unhealthy. The free course of the westerly winds,
which prevail throughout Sjria during the summer, is here impeded by the
mountains. Hence, it is said, intermittent fevers, particularly those of the quartan
kind, are common in the hot season. Little rain falls in winter ; snow is almost
unknown on the borders of the lake ; and the temperature, on the whole, is nearly
thu same as that of the Dead Sea.

Of the edifices noticed by travellers, in describing Tiberias, the only two worthy
of mention are the church of St. Peter and the old castle, a rude, inegular
building, apparently constructed at different periods, as the necessities or foresight
of warUke chiefs induced them to undertake the work. St. Peter's chm-ch
stands on the very edge of the lake, and is said to mark tlie spot close by which
our Lord so astonished His apostles, by the miraculous draught of fi.shes ; and
where he so pathetically charged St. Peter: "Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me
more than these ? He saith unto him : Yea, Lord ; thou kuowest that I love thee.
He saith unto him : Feed my lambs !" * The edifice is a poor and nan'ow
building, of no great antiquity, as proved by its pointed arch. At the west end is a
small court, which commonly affords a lodging to the traveller who does not fix his
tent on the open shores of the lake. But while there is an Arabic saying, that the
king of the fleas has his court at Tabaria, he seems, if travellers speak true, to have
his own especial apartments in this miserable little church.

* John, xsi. 15.

80 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

Several traces are discovered along the borders of the lake of the magnificence
of the city in early times. Columns of granite from twelve to fifteen leet long : the
remains of massive walls and foimdations, indicate both the extent and the strength
of this once admired and populous town.

The only thing which still gives a certain degree of importance to Tiberias, is the
salubrity of its far-famed baths. Ibrahim Pasha has constructed a new bathing-
house, for the accommodation of the numerous visitors who flock, it is said, from all
parts of Syria, in the month of July, to renovate their strength in these waters.*
The new edifice is described as containing several apartments, some of them fitted
up in a style of great magnific ence, the baths being constructed of beautiful white
marble. In the centre of the building is a large circular apartment, surrounded by a
marble pavement, and containing a fine reservoir. The old bath-house, spoken of
by several travellers, is now, according to Dr. Robinson, in a state of decay ; but
just above it is a reservoir arched over, in which the water from the springs is
first collected, and suffered to cool to the proper temperature, for the use of the
new baths.

It appears, from several allusions in ancient writings, that the waters of Tiberias
were frequented in former times no less generally than in later ages. Thus, Pliny
speaks of this city as "healthful for its warm waters." "Of the wann baths of
Tiberias," says Lightfoot,* " theTalmudists speak much." Thus it is said, " Three
warm baths remained from the waters of the deluge — the whirlpool of Gadara:
the great fountain of Biram : and the warm baths of Tiberias." And Josephus says,
" John of Giscala wrote to me, praying that I would permit him the use of the warm
baths, which are at Tiberias." t

When Mr. Buckingham was at this place, he found that the only boat on the
lake had been left to rot. Other travellers, however, speak of one still to be seen.
This was the case when Dr. Robinson X was at Tiberias ; and Mr. Bartlett gives the
following account of his attempted voyage on the lake: —

" As soon as we had refreshed ourselves, after the fatiguing ride fi-om Mount
Tabor, at the house of oiu Jewish host, our first wish was to engage the small bark
which we had seen fi-om the heights above, and make a short excursion upon
the lake. Threadmg the ruinous lanes, we foimd it by the water-side — an open
boat of the rudest and fi-aUest construction, navigated by two or three Jews, who in
the poverty of their garb, at least, were no unapt representatives of the apostolic
fishermen of Galilee. We had selected a most unfortunate moment to embark
— it was high noon and peculiarly sultry ; there was not a breath of air to stir the
slumbering waters of the lake, or enable us to use our sail ; shelter from the
heat there was none, and wc lay upon the hot deck in a state of perfect exhaustion
A prolonged excursion was out of the case ; we rowed, therefore, slowly to the batbi

* Chorographical Century. Worlts, vol. x. p. 142. t Joseplius's Life. J Travels, vol. iii. 200.

X-

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 81

a distance of about two miles from the town, and were glad to escape on shore from
the burning heat on deck. We gained little, however, by the exchange ; the verdure
was too scanty to afford us shade, and the hot steam from the springs rendered their
proximity almost overpowering, and quite indisposed me for a nearer examination.

" To command the scene, I ascended a short distance above the shore, to a spot
among thickets of dwarf shrubs, whence the accompanying view is taken — which
affords a correct idea of the position of the baths themselves, as well as of the site of
the ancient city, the modern town, and the scenery of the northern extremity of the
lake. Of the two buildings in the foreground, that on the right is the more ancient,
and is, though still used, neglected in great measure for the other, which with its
white dome appears among the thickets on the left hand of the view. Near this old
building the air teems with the exhalations from the hot sulphur springs, which
bursting out of the ground are conducted into the old bathing-house, a portion of the
water escaping into the sea. The water is too hot to bear the hand, and is stated to
be of the ternperatui-e of from 140" to 144° Fahr."*

How melancholy are the thoughts inspired by the contemplation of the now deso-
late shores of the Sea of Tiberias ! For ages, industiy and commerce might be seen,
in their liveUest aspect, on the bosom of these beautiful waters. Abundance of all
the gifts of nature ; light and healthful toil ; a large measure of freedom, character-
ized the condition of the people dwelling round the lake. The fishermen's boats ;
the heavily freighted bark, conveying merchandise from one shore to the other ; the
gay httle vessels, wafting the wealthy occupants of the villas which Roman luxury
had taught them to construct — covered with these various vessels, the lake must
have presented in the time of our Saviour a scene of wonderful gaiety and excite-
ment ; a scene such as can exist only in districts where the benignant spirit of
nature, and circumstances favourable to industry, combine to stimulate activitj', but
which j'et must satisfy itself from the narrowness of the sphere assigned it, with the
unambitious triumphs of daily labour and daily contentment. Had not the inroads
of heathen power and luxury become every year more destructive of Galilean sim-
pUcity, the lake of Genesareth might have witnessed the increase of that glorious

* " The ground, (seen in the view,) extending from the baths as far as the ruinous walls of modern
Taba/ia, was formerly occupied by the ancient city, as is indicated by various fragments of columns
and foundations of buildings, portions of the wall, &c. ; though of what precise date cannot be
determined. Above them, on a point of the hill, aie also ruins of a fortress, probably of the middle
ages.

" In the distance of our view is seen the northern shore of the lake ; the position of Cai)emauni
being, in all probability, on the rising grouDd, visible to the right of Tabaria (in the distance). Above it
are seen the hills of Saphet ; and, in the far distance, Mount Ilermon, snow-capped, and the only object
that gives any character to the view : the influx of the Jordan is also plainly discernible. I have
endeavoured, without exaggeration, to give the tnie character of the scene, which (though the lake
itself is always beautiful) is tame, lifeless, and solitary, like so many others in this laud of mournful
decay."

82 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

kingdom of which it saw the beginning, when it was as yet but like a grain of mus-
tard-seed ; like a little leaveu, hid in the mass to which it was to give life and
power.

But while Jerusalem and its inhabitants were bringing upon themselves the
heaviest of divine judgments, the people of this region were doing little to avert
the just wrath of Heaven. The pride of Pharisees, the daring infidelity of Saddu-
cees, the effeminate luxury of Heroflians, were not the only species of sin that might
shut men's eyes to the light of truth. Among the shepherds of the vale of Naza-
reth ; among the rough herdsmen of the pastures about Mount Tabor ; among the
fishermen of the lake of Genesareth, might be found men whose dark and haughty
spirits offered as fierce a resistance to the teaching of truth and holiness, as that of
the more conspicuous corruption of the Scribes and Pharisees. Nor would the com-
parison be less correct if instituted betweeen Jerusalem and Tiberias. The vices
prevailing in the former were, no doubt, far more strongly defined ; were of a deeper
dye, and exercised a more direct and fatal influence on the state of the doomed and
perishing people ; but those of the Gahlean city, the corruptions and follies of Tibe-
rias, were but dwarf images of those fostered in Jerusalem. They wrought with a
corresponding power on the declining state and character of the people ; and when
the Gospel was proclaimed to the formerly simple inhabitants of the hills and
valleys, and the rough fishermen of the lake, the bold, bad spirit of the age was
found to have hardened then- hearts, and darkened their understanding ; and to
have raised up, as it were, a bamer against the Sowings of divine grace, that stream
of converting light and love which had changed the humble fishermen, the sons
of Zebedee, and Simon Peter, and the Publican at the receipt of customs, into the
jjrofoundest of teachers, the mightiest of reformers.

FROM TIBERIAS TO J ULIA S-BETH SAIDA.

On leaving Tiberias to visit some of the most remarliable spots on the shores of
the lake, the traveller is deeply affected with the solitude of the surrounding
countrj'. Not a vestige exists of the once flourishing population which crowded the
banks. Even at the best, as we have found, only one sohtary little bark is seen on
tlie broad expanse of the waters ; and the gay sparkling of the waves, the occasional
verdure of the soft slopes which they kiss, do but add to the sad feeling of the
mighty change which has been wrought by revolution and apostasy.

Some not uninteresting inquiries might be founded on the question, WTiy did
our Lord select Capernaum, rather than the more important town of Tiberias, as his
abode on leaving Nazareth ? Tliat there were good reasons for this choice, we
cannot doubt. Capernaum was the home of the ardent, faithful men who had the
heroism to attach themselves from the first to Jesus of Nazareth, to the stem
teacher of new doctrines, who had nothing to recommend him but the power of
truth, and the grandeur of virtue. The affection which they cherished for their
master surrounded him in liis painful wanderings : it was, perhaps, only when he had
travelled far from Capernaum, that he could exclaim, " The foxes have holes, and
the birds of the air have nests ; but the Son of man hath not where to lay his
head." One of the reasons, therefore, which may be supposed to have induced our
Lord, humanly speaking, to select Capernaum for his residence, was this, that his
most devoted, affectionate disciples had their home there ; that he found among
them the materials of domestic virtue, out of wliich to form a foundation for many of
his precepts ; that he beheld it as the centre of a circle, from which the rays of his
divine influence, while he dwelt in Galilee, might be most beneficially diffused.

But it may edso be suggested, that the neighbourhood of Capernaum offered
readier and more agreeable retreats than that of Tiberias. According to Josephus,
there was a district running along the side of the lake, of most peculiar beauty and
fertility. The temper of the air suited itself to every variety of fruits. Nut-bushes,
bearing, in other places, only during the winter ; palms, which are nourished with
heat ; and near them figs and oUves, which require a more moderate air, might
there be seen floiuishing at the same time, in the fulness of their beauty- The
district thus described is said to have been about thiitj' fmlongs in length, and
twenty in breadth. Josephus adds, that it was watered with a spring of exceUent
water, and was commonly called Capernaum. Lightfoot observes on this, that

84 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

either the city had its name from the district, or the district its name from the city,
and the city from the pleasantness of its situation. The Evangelists, he says, com-
pared together, clearly show that this city was seated in the land of Genesareth.
For when it is said by Matthew and Mark, that Christ, sailing over from the desert
of Bethsaida, arrived in the country of Genesareth,* it is manifest from John, that
he arrived at Capemaum.f But it is said, by some ancient commentators, that
there is a place near Tiberias in which are gardens and paradises, and hence it is
concluded that Capernaum was at no great distance from the former city. We
have, however, another help to the determining of the situation of this place ; for St.
Matthew says that our Lord, on leaving Nazareth, " came and dwelt in Capernaum,
which is upon the sea-coast, in the borders of Zabulon and Nephthahm ;" J that is.
it was situated near the limits, where the bounds of Zabulon and Nephthahm
touched each other, on the south coast of the Sea of Genesareth ; and between
Tiberias and Tarichea. §

Favoured as was Capernaum above all other cities by the frequent residence of
our Lord, no chinch rose within its walls to remain as a monument to future ages
of the gratitude of its inhabitants. " The people which sat in darkness saw
great light : and to them which sat in the region and shadow of death, light had
sprung up." But the dawning splendour found only a few humble spirits ready to
hail its revelations of heaven and eternity. The multitude beheld it as a meteor,
which would soon pass away ; and, shutting their eyes to the proffered light, they
became involved in a darkness more profound, more terrible than that of the
remotest times.

So awftdly has the saying of our Lord been fulfilled, " Thou, Capernaum, which
art exalted unto heaven, shall be brought down to hell," that not a trace remains
of the once busy and prosperous city. Travellers have sought with eager, pious
curiosity, to discover the spot on which the place stood so signalized as our Lord's
abode. To none are we more indebted in this respect, than to Dr. Robinson. He
sought for the site of the long lost Capernaum, he tells us, "with the most absorbing
and exciting interest." || There was one important circumstance in the account
given by Josephus, to guide the research thus commenced. The district evidently
owed its character for luxurious beauty to the waters of a copious fountain. Dr.
Robinson, while ascending a path along the river side of the plain, at the foot of the
Western hills, met with a brook which diffused its fcrtihzing dews in all directions.
Soon after he anived at a beautiful fountain, called the " Round Fountain," and this
he believed to be the fountain spoken of by Josephus as watering and fertilizing the
district of Genesai'eth, thence called Capernaum. If this supposition had been
correct, " there was every reason to suppose," he continues, " that the city of Ca-

• Alatt. xiv. .34 ; M.ark, vi. 5,3. + Jolin, vi. 22, 24, 25. f Matt. iv. 13.

§ Liglitfoot, vol. X. p. 147. II Biblical Researches, vol. iii. p. 282.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 85

pernaum must have lain somewhere in the vicinity. The western hill above the foun-
tain is strewed with large stones, having at a distance much the appearance of ruins.
I ascended it, therefore, excited with the eager hope of finding some trace of a
former site, which then I should hardly have hesitated to consider as the remains
of Capernaum. But my hope ended in disappointment. A few stones had in-
deed been thrown together; but there was nothing which could indicate that any
town or village had ever occupied the spot. The stones which cover the hill are
of the same dark colour and volcanic character as those around Tiberias."

Another hope was excited of discovering the site of Capernaum by the remains
of a village called Abu Shusheh, on a shght eminence, not very far from the .spot
above described. But here, too, were " no traces of antiquity ; no hewn stones, nor
any mason-work ; nothing, indeed, but the remains of a few dwellings, built of rough
volcanic stones ; some few of them still used as magazines by the Arabs of the
plain." Discouraging, however, as was the absence of any appearance of ancient
buildings, or their remains, the nature of the surrounding scenery was calculated to
keep up the idea that it was here Capernaum formerly stood. The fertility of the
plain, it is said, can hardly have been exceeded. " All kinds of grain and vegetables are
produced in abundance, including rice in the moister parts ; while the natural pro-
ductions, as at Tiberias and Jericho, are those of a more southern latitude. Indeed,
in beauty, fertihty, and climate, the whole tract answers well enough to the glowing
though exaggerated description of Josephus."

But the country stUl further on was characterized by the same attractive fea-
tures. At the distance of somewhat more than an hour's journey from Mejdel, or
Magdala, is a deserted khan, ceJled Khan Minyeh, and between this building and
the shore is a large fountain, gushing out from beneath the rocks, and forming a
brook, which makes its way into the lake some few yards off. A noble fig-tree,
spoken of by several travellers, grows at the edge of the fountain ; and the whole of
the surrounding scenery bears the character of fertility. At a little distance from
the fountain, appears a low mound, the summit of which is strewed with ruins, but
not of a kind to lead the traveller to suppose that they are the remains of a place of
any importance, or remote antiquity. But in the midst of so much uncertainty, no
spot on the shores of the lake seems better entitled to be regarded as the site of
Capernaum. The learned and laborious traveller above referred to, examines, with
his usual care, the incidental allusions to the city found in ancient writers. He con-
cludes that Capernaum was aname which the fountain derived from the neighbour-
ing town, and that the fountain thus distinguished, was 'Ain-et-Tin, a noble spring
which scatters delight and sweetness throughout the whole of the otherwise parched
and barren land.

We know fiom Eusebius and Jerome, that Capernaum existed in the fourth cen-
tury. A church was built there by a Jewish convert; but above two centuries after,
the only rehgious edifice spoken of is one raised on the supposed site of St. Peter's

86 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

PJouse. Nothing is related, even by the most zealous collectors of traditions,
respecting this place during more than a thousand years, except by a writer
named ArcuW'us. This pious man visited the Holy Land towards the end of the
seventh centmy, and his narrative is given, without abridgment, in Relaad's Palajs-
'tina.* According to the recital thus quoted, Ai'culfus looked down upon Caper-
naum from the neighbouring mountain. It was a town without walls, occupying a
narrow tract of ground running between the mountain and the lake ; the former
bounding it on the north, the latter on the south.

From the time of Arculfus to the present, no intelligible account has been given
of Capernaum. It has, in reality, been swept away by the mere com'se of ages.
If we might speculate upon such a theme, we could suggest, that the honour which
Clmstiaus would have bestowed upon the habitual residence of their Lord, would
liave been an unfitting homage to a place which, of itself, entertained so little
reverence for his word. There is no town m the whole compass of the Holy Land
the name of which would more easily have awakened the fervent and affectionate
associations of the Christian than Capernaum. It was there that the blessed Jesus,
when he had been teaching through the villages and towns of Galilee ; when in the
busy marts of the latter, and the obscurest dwellings of the former, he had sought for
objects of his divine compassion, — it was there that, when he had borne the griefs
of others, till he almost fainted luider the burden of that, his earlier cross, he found
repose in the humble home of some devoted disciple. And there, too, it was that
he afforded so many glorious evidences of his power, t " that his fame went
throughout all Syria ; " and there, that he proclaimed, seated by the side of the lake,
or on the brow of the hill, from which its bright waters might stOl be seen, those
gracious truths which filled his hearers with astonishment : " For he taught them
as one having authority, and not as the Scribes." Surely the city which beheld such
things, and was made familiar with the doctrines of such a teacher, but utterly
rejected the blessings thus offered it, deserved to lose both its place and name, and
be like the house built, without a foundation, on the sand!

At the distance of about an hour from the Khan Minyeh, and at the northern
extremity of the lake, are the mins of a place called Tell Hum.J; The character of
these remains is very different to that of those which are found on the spot above
described. Blocks of sculptured stone ; columns richly ornamented with Corinthian
capitals; others similar to those seen in the great church of Tyre, with double
shafts ; and the ruins of ordinary dwellings, strewed along the shore to the distance
of half-a-mile, indicate the former existence on this site of some important town.

» Palaastina, pp. 683, 684.

t Tlie paralytic was healed here, who was let down from the top of the house ; here he also restored
two men to their sight, and cured one who was possessed of a devil. lie healed likewise the cen-
turion's servant, by ouly speaking a word ; and raised from the dead the daughter of Jairus.

t Le Pere Naud speaks of this place as certainly the ancient Capernaum. Voyage Nouveau, liv. v.
p. .571.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. g?

In the time of Pococke, it was commonly believed that this was Capernaum.* But
no other name, it seems, has been assigned to the ruined city but that given it by the
Arabs. Neither will its situation, so far from Genesareth, allow of its being regarded
as Capernaum ; and it was, therefore, probably, some town of comparative modern
origin, which rose and fell with the changing tide of prosperity.

The other towns and villages which once crowded the poptdous shores of the
lake, have shared the fate of Capernaum. Allusion has already been made to
Magdala, now Mejdel, as not far from Tiberias. It was called Magdala of Gadara ;
and to show its nearness to Chammath, or Tiberias, Lightfoot quotes the ciuious
passage in the Talmud, in which it is said, that the Gadarenes might, by permission
of the rabbi, " come down to Chammath on the sabbath, and walk through it, unto
the furthest street, even to the bridge." This little town was the residence of Maiy
Magdalene, one of the few who eaily hailed the Savioiu- at Capernaum, and for
whose sake alone the Good Shepherd, who came to seek that which was lost, would
not have scorned to take up his abode in that town. Magdala retaius no feature
of the past, its site being now occupied by a poor and miserable httle village.t
Bethsaida appears also to have been in the immediate neighbourhood of Capernaum.
Thus when our Lord had fed the five thousand men who had been listening to his
preaching in the desert, " he constrained his disciples to get into the ship, and
to go to the other side before unto Bethsaida, while he sent away the people." And
it is alteiTvards said, " When they had passed over, they came into the land of
Genesaieth, and drew to the shore."|

Biddulph, who visited this district above two hundred years ago, has this passage
in his Journal : — " March the twenty-fourth, we rode by the Sea of Galilee, which
hath two names, Jolin vi. 1 : ' The Sea of Galilee,' and ' The Sea of Tiberias,' because it
is in Galilee ; and of Tiberias, because the city of Tiberias was built near it." Also
Bethsaida, another ancient city. We saw some ruins of the walls of both. But it is
said in that chapter, John vi. 1, that Jesus sailed over the Sea of Galilee. And else-
where, that he went over the lake ; and Luke ix. 10, it is said, that he departed into
a desert place near the city Bethsaida. Which text of John I learned better to
understand by seeing, than ever I could by reading. For when Tiberias and Beth-
saida were both on the same shore of the sea, and Christ went from Tiberias to, or

• " It is situated," he says, " at the eastern foot of the hills which are north of the plain of Gen-
nesareth, where I saw ruins of a small church of white marble, with some remains of pilasters about
it. The ruins extend considerably to the north of the lake, and I could plainly observe a round port
for small boats; so that this, without doubt, was the ancient Tarichea, which Josephus describes as
situated under the hills, like Tiberias." Description of the East. Vol. II. Part I. p. 72. Dr. Robinson's
account of the present appearance of this place is somewhat different to Pococke's.

t When St. Matthew says that our Lord came " into the coasts of Magdala," chap. xv. 39, St.
Mark says, in the parallel passage, that he " came into the ports of Dalmanutha." Chap. viii. 10.
Of Dalmanutha nothing is known.

± Mark, vi. 45, 53.

88 THE CHRISTUN IN PALESTINE.

near, Bethsaida, heuce I gather, that our Saviour Christ sailed not over the length,
or breadth of the sea, but that he passed some bay, as much as Tiberias was distant
from Bethsaida. ^Vllich is proved thence, that a great multitude Ibllowed him
thither on foot ; which they could not do, if he had sailed over the whole sea, to
that shore, among the Gergasenes, which is without the Holy Land." But Lightfoot
objects to the latter argument that, there was a very beaten and common way from
Capernaum and Tiberias by the bridge of Chammath, into the country of the
Gadarenes, and so to Bethsaida.

Chorazin * was another of the places which once flourished in the neighbourhood
of Capemaiun. It is only incidentally alluded to by our Lord, but in a manner
which proves how patient and affectionate had been his eflForts to save it from the
doom which otherwise awaited it. " Woe unto thee, Chorazin ! woe unto thee,
Bethsaida! for if the mighty works which were done in you had been done in
Tyre and Sidou, they would have repented long ago in sackcloth and ashes. But
I say unto you, it shall be more tolerable for Tyre and Sidon at the day of judgment
than for you."t Independent of more awful considerations, our Lord's denun-
ciation has received a literal and remarkable fulfilment in the temporal fate of the
towns refeiTed to. Chorazin and Bethsaida have absolutely perished. No trace
can be discovered of their foundations, or of the soil on which they stood. The
divine judgment swept them from the earth. But Tyre and Sidon have still a name,
and a place among the cities of the land. Fearful indeed have been the calamities
and the ruin which they have suffered ; but it has been more tolerable for them in
the day of visitation than for Chorazin or Bethsaida.

The Lake of Tiberias is generally described as a noble and beautiful sheet of
water. On the east it is closely shut in by mountains, and the country on that side
has not, according to Pococke, a very agreeable aspect. On the west is the plain
of Tiberias, the high groimd of the plain of Huttin ; the plain of Genesareth, and
" the foot of those hills by which one ascends to the high mountains of Japhet."
On the north and south, the coimtry is low and open. According to Josephus,
the lake is eighteen miles long, and five broad ; but Pococke considers it not above
fourteen or fifteen mUes long. A learned Jew, he says, with whom he conversed at
Saphet, lamented that he could not have an opportunity, when he was at Tiberias,
to go in a boat to see the well of Miriam in this lake, which, he said, according to
their Talmudical writers, was fixed here, after it had accompanied the children
of Israel through the wilderness, and the water of wliich might be seen continually
rising up.| Le Pere Naud says that the experienced travellers by whom he was
accompanied considered the breadth of the lake to be not more than two good

* " I inquired for Chorazin," says Pococke, " but could find nothing like the name, except at a
village called Geriisi, which is among the hiUs, west of the supposed i-uins of Tarichea."
t Matt. xi. 21, 22.
t Description of tlie East. Vol. II. part I. p. 69.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 89

leagues, and its Itugtli, about five or six.* The Chevalier d'Arvieux describes
it as three leagues in breadth. t

Pococke went along the west side of the lake to the south end of it, about four
miles from Tiberias, and came to the place where it empties itself into the Jordan.
It is there not more than two miles broad, and the channel of the river is rather
nearer the west. For the first furlong or so, it runs south ; and then, for about half-
a-mile, takes a westerly direction. In this space, between the river and the lake,
the traveller discovered a fortification on the rising ground, called Il-Carak. On
the west were some signs of buildings, and a very long bridge, or causeway, built
with ai'ches, over a marshy ground, under which, when the lake was high, the water
flowed into the Jordan, making the town or fortress alluded to a sort of island. By
cutting a channel here, they might always have a stream which would make it a xery
strong place, even at this time, as it is out of the reach of ordinary cannon from the
western hills, except from a small height in the plain, which formerly might add to
its strength by defending the pass.

From the spot here described, a road is 'bund crossing the small intenening plain
in a north-easterly direction, to the ruined city of Julias, or Bethsaida of Gaulonitis-
The plain is well cultivated by the inhabitants of the neighbouring valleys, and pro-
duces considerable quantities of corn, maize, and rice. Burckhardt speaks of
honey of the finest quality being found here ; and of gourds and cucumbers of such
early gro^x'th, and so highl}^ esteemed, that they are carried to Damascus and sold
there in the market three weeks before any are produced from the gardens around
that city. Herds of buffaloes and other homed cattle roam this plain, and form
with the produce of the fertile soil the riches of the Ghawarineh, or Arabs of
the valley. J

Bethsaida of Gaulonitis was an inconsiderable place till favoured by the notice of
Philip the Tetrai'ch. Philip, says Josephus, having raised the town of Bethsaida on
the lake of Genesareth to the honrur of a city, both in respect to the number of the
inhabitants and other means of strength, gave it the same name with Julia, the
emperor's daughter.^ Julias-Bethsaida, adds Lightfoot, was not seated in GaUlee,
as it is in the maps, but bej'ond the Sea of Galilee, in Perea ; and was certainl}- tliat
Julias which Pliny places eastward of the lake of Genesareth. There seems no
reason to question that the Bethsaida here spoken of was the town alluded to
in the account of our Lord's retreat firom the unhallowed curiosity of Herod the
Tetrarch. For the apostles having returned, and described what they had dmc,
" he took them, and went aside privatelj' into a desert place belonging to the city,
called Bethsaida." || To the secluded spot in which he had thus sought a temporary

* Voyage, Nouveau, p. 580. + Memoires, t. ii. p. 277-

t Travels, p, 316. § Antiq. b. xviii. c. iii.

II Luke, ix. 9, 10. Reland takes great pains in comparing the evidence on the suhject of the 'wo
towns spoken of by the name of Bethsaida. Palaestiua, t. ii. p. 653, 869; aud t. i. p. IS!.

2 A

90 TUE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

repose he was followed by the eager niullitude, to whom he spake "of the kingdom
of God, and healed them that had need of healing." Never perhaps was the
power of his words so intensely felt by the crowd as on this occasion : they
had forgotten all ordinaiy cares, had lost the sense of hunger and thirst, in the all-
engrossing delight with which they listened to the wonderfid words proceeding from
his lips. There was, for the time, a mysterious feeling in their souls, that the
power of life had chosen the voice of that gracious speaker for its mightiest instru-
ment. They had never before been so conscious of the might of truth, or of the
lituess of their own spuits to rejoice in its divine communications.

No less beautifully did our Lord illustrate the benevolent temper of the gospel
by the miracle which followed, than he sublimely proved by the majesty of his dis-
course, that it is the power of God unto salvation. The " desert place belonging to
Bethsaida" was the scene of the miracle referred to. It was in Bethsaida itself
that the blind man was brought to him, whose miraculous cure was attended
by circumstances so singularly accordant with the natural return of sight. Jesus,
having put his hands upon him, asked him if he " saw ought." The man looked
up, and said, " I see men as trees walking. After that, he put his hands again upon
his eyes and made him look up ; and he was restored, and saw every man clearly."
We may be permitted to conjecture that, in this case, there was something in the
internal state of the man's own mind upon whom the miracle was wrought, or per-
haps even in the thoughts and questionings of the apostles themselves, which
induced Jesus to work the miracle by distinct exercises of his power. There was
need, perhaps, of seeming a more devout and humble attention, of giving a warning
that the hand of Omnipotency, obedient as it is to faith, must yet be recognised in
its instrumental operations. It is also remarkable, that Jesus before performing the
miracle* led the sufferer out of the city, and on parting with him said, " Neither go
into the town, nor tell it to any in the town." Was Bethsaida, a curious inquu-er may
ask, in so melancholy a state at this period, that it had lisen in arms, as it were, not
only against the truth, but the very mercy and charity of Clirist ? Few of the inci-
dents selected by artists in iUustrating scripture afford nobler subjects for the pencil
than the one spoken of in the account of this miracle. It was Jesus himself who
" took the blind man by the hand and led him out of the town ;" and beautiful is
the picture presented to the imagination, as it contemplates the mild but majestic
Jesus guiding the uncertain steps of the poor supphcant, and leading him apart from
the crowd, and through the gay streets of the luxurious httle city, to some calm
desert spot, where, while he gave him sight, he might instruct him in the mysteries
of his kingdom.

Burckhardt f carefully traversed the district above described. The valley of
the Jordan, or El Ghor, he says, may be considered as beginning at the
northern extremity of the Lake of Tiberias, and near Bysan takes a direction
* Mark, viii. 2& f Buickliardt's Travels, p. 344.

ii^* ? ■-. i V?l^- '

THE CHRI'STIAN IN PALESTINE. 91

N. by E. and S. by W. Its breadth, in the language of Oriental travellers, is
about two hours ; and in many spots the number of rivulets and fountains have
rendered the herbage as rich and beautiful as that of the verdant valleys of more
temperate climes. On issuing fom the lake, the river Jordan flows for about three
hours near the western hills, and then turns towards the eastern, in which direction
it continues to flow for a distance of several hours. Its course is through a valley
about a quarter-of-an-hour in breadth, and very much lower than the other parts of
the plain of Ghor. The valley is here covered with trees of lofty and luxurious gi-owth,
and affords a striking contrast, it is said, to the sandy slopes w hich border it on both
sides. Where Burckhardt crossed the Jordan it was eighty paces broad, and about
three deep. This was in the summer. At other periods of the year, the river is
fordable only in particular places, and these are known to no one but the Arabs who
inhabit the neighbouring valley.

By pursuing a westerly direction, the traveller finds himself at the end of about
three hours, and after traversing a steep and rocky road, approaching the mountainous
track, the still distant summit of \vhich is crowned by the old town and castle of
Saphet, or Safed. At the foot of these hiUs, tradition points out the pit into whicli
Joseph is said to have been cast. When this spot was visited by Pere de Naud, it was
covered by a small dome, supported by four marble pillars.* The khan close by
has been for ages the resting-place of travellers proceeding to Damascus, the high-
road to which is crossed at a little distance from this place. Burckhardt estimated
the depth of the pit at thirty feet, and its diameter at about three. It is, however,
much disputed whether this was the cave into which Joseph was thrown. On the
one side is the testimony of long-standing tradition ; on the other, the doubt arising
from considerable geographical and historical discrepancies.

Precipitous hills and deep ravines, the dark traces of earthquakes or volcanoes,
characterize this part of the countrj'. The mountainous ridge which leads to Safed
is of limestone formation, and is intersected by valleys meeting each other a little
below the point surmounted by the castle.

Saphet, it is observed, is not mentioned by name in our English translation of
the Apocrypha, t But in the Vulgate, Tobias is said to be " of the tribe and city of
Ncphtali, in the upper parts of Galilee, beyond the road that leads to the west,
having on the left the city of Saphet." The situation and strength of the place gave
it great importance during the crusades. It is accordingly frequently mentioned in
the chronicles of the middle ages. Pococke says that he saw on a building in the
town the arms of the knights of St. John, sculptured in relief. Pere de Naud also
states that he observed on an old wall a lamb, cut in the stone, in bas-relief, bearing a
standard, in imitation of the ancient representations of John the Baptist. The
Jews, on the other hand, trace the origin of the castle of Saphet to the remote times

• Voyage, Nouveau, 1/02. lib. v p. 5J4. t Pococke, vol. ii. p. 76.

92 THE CHRISTIAN IX PALESTINE.

of their national prosperity, and regard the city itself as possessing a degree of
sanctity which renders it at least the equal of Jerusalem and Hebron. Nothing
could exceed then: enthusiastic reverence for the place, even after they had suffered
the most grievous persecutions within its walls. The Chevalier d'Arvieux describes
their attachment to it as a species of madness, and says that it arose first fi-om the
notion that several of their greatest prophets and rabbis are buried in the neighbour-
hood ; and, secondly, from the general behef that the Messiah when he comes will
make Saphet the capital of his visible kingdom, or will at least, according to other
authors, remain there fortyy ears, before he ascends his throne at Jerusalem.* There
was a period wlien this people had no fewer than eighteen synagogues in Saphet,
with a proportionable supply of schools and colleges. The most venerated copies
of the law have been preserved here for many ages. Some of the rolls shown to
Pere de Naud were said to be from three to four hundred years old. Others, not
equally esteemed for exactness, were kept in separate cabinets. And a third class
consisted of those which had been collected from places no longer inhabited by the
faithful of the nation, t

In a cave not far from the city, are said to have dwelt the wonderful men who
laid the foundation for the whole vast system of Talmudical learning and tradition. If
what is told of these ancient Jewish sages be true, they must have exhibited a sin-
gular compound of wisdom and superstition ; of virtue, self-denial, and fanaticism.
Their example was followed by a long line of diligent students in the same unpro-
fitable species of learning. As in the case of Tiberias, nothing could deprive
Saphet of the venerable character which it acquired by the faithful devotion of the
successive generations of worshippers and inquirers. The frightful persecutions
and exactions which they have suffered ; the earthquakes which have levelled the
city with the dust, have had no effect on the minds of those who believe that Saphet
is the consecrated abode of wisdom and piety.

No city in Palestine is more remarkable for situation than Saphet. Spreading
over the steep side of a lofty mountain, the houses are described as seeming to rest
upon each other in successive tiers, the roofs of the one series meeting the founda-
tions of the other. Mr. Elliot, indeed, says that, " as the hill on which the town is
built is precipitous, and the roofs are flat, public convenience has sanctioned the
conversion of these roofs into thoroughfares, so that, both on mules and on foot, he
and his companions repeatedly passed over the tops of dwellings." Some quarters
of the city seem formerly to have exhibited the usual signs of a prosperous and
contented popiUation ; but of late years the place has been more celebrated for the
poverty of its inhabitants, for the wretchedness of their dwellings, and their sad
struggles against ovei-whelming misfortunes, than for anything else. The earth-

* Memoires, t. ii. c. xxi. p. 318. + Voyage, Nouveau, p. 554.

THE CHRISTUN IN PALESTINE. 93

quake which occurred at the beginning of the year 1837, was attended with calami-
ties which the imagination shrinks from contemplating. From the very position of
the city, on the steep side of the mountain, the shock of the earthquake instantly
produced the most terrific effects. The successive tiers of building, suddenly
shaken from their foundations, were rolled one over the other, as if the gigantic
spirit of evil were hurling them for his sport into one huge mass of desolation.
Nor was it only the more modern edifices which thus felt the power of the earth-
quake. The castle of Saphet is described by the oldest travellers as a fortress
exhibiting signs of prodigious strength. It was a Gothic edifice, built upon a
rock of enormous height, and commanding from its formidable towers the whole
of the smToundiug plains. From its once noble terraces, the eye ranges over the
numerous cities and villages of the Lake of Tiberias ; along the plain of Jericho,
and the intervening country extending to the borders of the Dead Sea. Sublimely
contrasted with these subject plains, tower the summits of Tabor, Cannel,
and Libanus, while in the far distance may be traced the mountainous ridges of
Arabia.*

The proud edifice which had for ages crowned this rocky height, and which had
defied the battles and the storms of centuries, fell hke the meanest hovel, when
the step of the earthquake was felt on its foundations.

According to the testimony of eye-witnesses, the scenes of miseiy which followed
this awfrd convulsion of nature, could scarcely be paralleled in the history of
human misfortunes. It is computed that near five thousand persons perished, the
greater part of them by being engulfed in the yawning earth, or by falling beneath
the ruins of their habitations ; the rest dying of the injuries which they had re-
ceived, though rescued from immediate destruction by the piety of their friends.
Striking, no doubt, were some of the instances of deliverance which occurred in
the progress of this fearfiil calamity. Terrible, it is equally certain, were many of
the forms which death assumed while pursuing the terror-stricken sufferer. Dr.
Robinson, in describing the effects of the earthquake of Tiberias, says, "A Ma-
hommedan, with whom my companion fell into conversation at the threshingfloor,
related, that he and four others were retm-ning down the mountain west of the city
in the afternoon when the earthquake occurred. All at once the earth opened and
closed agaiu, and two of his companions disappeared. He ran home affrighted,
and found that his wife, mother, and two others in the family had perished. On
digging next day where his two companions had disappeared, they were fomid dead
in a standing posture." t

Saphet, since this awful calamity, has witnessed some noble instances of chanty
on the part both of Christians and Jews. The former by their missionaries, and

• Memoires, d'Arvieux, t. ii. c. sxL p. 321
■\ Biblical Researches, Vol. III. p. 255.

94 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

the latter, by the representatives of wealthy congregations in various parts of the
world, have supplied the surviving sufferers with large sums of money to repair
their ruined houses. SapLet, therefore, again exists ; and again the traveller beholds
a busy, laborious population, rising, as it were, from the midst of ruins which, it
might have been supposed, would never again have heard the voice of human in-
dustrj' or human hope. Singular indeed is the sight of men bereft of home, ahnost
of the means of existence, and having but just dried the tears so passionately shed
over their lost friends and fammes,cheerfuUy devoting themselves to the task of digging
new foundations on the very spot which the earthquake visited in its fiercest wrath.
Yet such is the spectacle which the perilous and desolate declivities about Saphet
have presented ever since the occurrence of the calamity. Far easier as it would have
been for the unfortunate sm-vivors to have removed to some neighbouring town, and
there obtained a new and safer home, they preferred enduring any hardships to
forsaking the spot rendered dear to them by the traditions of their forefathers.
The soil of Saphet was more precious than that of the most fertDe of the valleys
and pastures of the neighbouring districts. Its ruins contained treasures dearer to
their hearts than any that could be offered them in the most prosperous cities of
Galilee or Judea There is something in this well worthy of remark. Other cities
have fallen into ruins, and been left till the country around them has become a
desert. No tender associations, no power of patriotism or affection could preserve
Palmyra or Thebes. How is it then that Saphet, with so little to recommend it, with
so much in its dangerous position and desolate aspect to make men shim it, should
have been raised from the dust again by the painful toil of its few sun-iving inhabitants?
The answer is found in the intense religious enthusiasm of those few poor people :
they believe that it is holy ; and that it is better to suffer the extreme of miserj- in such
a place than to enjoy prosperity in the noblest marts of wealth and folly. What
might not be expected from such a people if guided by a clearer and a purer light ?
Saphet has been regarded by several writers as occupying the site of the ancient
city of BethuUa. This has led some of the old travellers to spiritualize on the
traditions of the place : and Judith with the head of Holofernes is represented as a
type of the Virgin Mary, through whom the head of the old serpent, the great
enemy of God's people, has been bmised, and his victims delivered. The elevated
situation of Saphet has also induced some travellers to speak of it as the " city set
upon a hill," referred to by our Lord; and Pococke says, that if the evidence had not
been so much in favour of the tradition which rejjresents Moimt Tabor as the scene
of the transfiguration, he shoidd have believed the hiU of Saphet to be the most entitled
to be called the mount of transfiguration. A notion equally ill foimded has prevailed,
that the plain of Dothaim is in the vicinity of Saphet ; the geographers of the middle
ages having evidently yielded assent to the most vague reports derived from pil-
giims and crusaders. The Pere de Naud,* says, that "the plain of Dothaim is

* Voyage, Nouvtau, liv. vi. p. 5C9.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 95

not further from Saphet than one league and a half ; and that it is supposed to ex-
tend from Jose))h's (vnll higher up to the Sea of Galilee on the south, and to a
considerable distance from east to west." Pococke remai-ks,* that Dothaim was
probably near Shechem. This opinion is founded on the very words of the sacred
narrative ; for when Joseph came to Shechem, " a certain man found him, and be-
hold he was wandering in the field ; and the man asked him, saying, What seekest
thou ? And he said, I seek my brethren : tell me, I pray thee, where they feed
their flocks. And the man said, They are departed hence ; for I heard them
say, Let us go to Dothan. And Joseph went after his brethren, and found them in
Dothan."t

In the extensile district lying between Safed and the ancient Csesarea-Philippi,
or Paneas, now Banias, is the lake Houle, the Old Testament Merom, and the
classic Samachonitis. I This sheet of water overspreads a considerable space of
ground, and its surrounding shores afford excellent pasture for the cattle of the
Arabs frequenting or inhabiting the neighbourhood. Burckhardt visited an old
Saracenic castle, occupying a rocky hill to the north-east of the lake. It was appa-
rently erected about the time of the crusades, and exhibits signs of having been once a
place of vast strength and importance. From this point the snowy Hermon, and
Lebanon, and AntUebanon may be contemplated in their rival beauty and grandeur ;
and among the recesses which they inclose are to be found the sources of the
Jordan, that river the very mention of which seems like a concentrating of the account
of all that is most wonderful in the history of providence and redemption. It is
from a cavern in the immediate vicinity of Banias, that the main spring of the
Jordan is believed to issue. Burckhardt discovered the traces of niches anr'
inscriptions on the face of the rock at the base of which this cavern is situated. A
few words only of one of the inscriptions are legible. By these we learn that
some heathen priest, a priest of Pan, was once emploj^ed in his idolatrous worship
about this venerable spot. Josephus, who apparently speaks of it as the source
of the Jordan, mentions that Herod built a temple here to the honour of
Augustus. The same writer, however, describes the lake Phiala as giving rise to
the river. This lake is said to be about a hundred and twenty stadia fi-om Panmm ;
and the notion that it is the source of the Jordan was derived from the experiment
of Philip the Tetrarch, who ordered some chaff to be thrown into the lake, and the
chaff appearing again at Panium, the philosophers of the day concluded that they
had discovered the source of the Jordan. The lake Phiala is said to be four hours
from Banias. Some modem travellers, in their way from Banias to Damascus,
came to the shores, as they describe it, of a very picturesque little lake, apparently
perfectly circulai-, of rather more than a mile in circumference, surroimded on all

* Travels, p. 77. t Genesis, xxxvii. 15 — 17.

J Burckliardt, p. 37.

96 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

sides by sloping hills, richly wooded. The singularity, thev add, of this lake is, that
it has no apparent supply nor discharge; and its waters appeared perfectly still,
though clear and limpid.

Supposing the lake thus described to be the ancient lake Phiala, it is endent,
observe the travellers referred to, that, notwithstanding Philip's experiment, the
source of the Jordan must not be sought for here. There is a rivulet which, rising
from some neighbouring mountains, traverses a narrow rocky valley, and meets the
Jordan at Banias. Had the waters of the lake a subten-anean passage, it must be
beneath this rivulet, which is supposed to He lower than the lake itself.*

But the present inhabitants of the district about Banias point out another source
of the Jordan. This is at a place called Tell-el-Kady, a little hill, from which
issue two fountains, which, uniting their streams, form a river from twelve to fifteen
yards wide. The river thus formed pursues a rapid course to the plain, and is
considered by the people of the neighbourhood as the proper Jordan. After run-
ning for a few miles, it joins the other reputed branch of the Jordan ; and is
probably the stream referred to by Josephus, when speaking of the other source of
the Jordan at Dan, and of the lesser Jordan, f

There seems every reason to believe that Dr. Robinson is right in concluding that
the two sources of this sacred river are found at Banias and Tell-el-Kady. But he
adds, X that two other streams, no mention of which occurs in ancient writers,
are seen near the more western part of the Houle, or el-Huleh basin. After
tracing their course, he says, "according to this representation, two separate
streams of considerable magnitude enter the lake el-Huleh from the north, each of
which is formed by the junction of two others. The eastern coast of these main
streams, and this alone, with its two sources, has now for more than thirty centuries
borne the name of Jordan. The longer and larger river coming from Hasbeiya,
although unquestionably its waters constitute the remotest sources of the Jordan,
appears never to have been included in the name, but was regarded merely as a
tributary of the lake el-Huleh. How, or wherefore, the name came at first to be
so applied, we have no means of ascertaining ; and it behoves us to rest satisfied
with the usage of so many ages. The attempt to introduce a change at this
late hour would be alike presumptuous and futile. As well might we require the
majestic floods of the Mississipi and Missouri to exchange these names above
their junction, inasmuch as the latter is, of the two, by far the larger and the
mightier stream."

Paneas, or, as now called, Banias, was the ancient Caesarea-Philippi, and
venerable, therefore, to the Christian reader, as one of the places visited by our Lord.
For it is said that, having restored the blind man to sight at Bethsaida, he and his

* Irby and Mangles, p. 28G, 287. + See Lightfoot's Works, Vol. X.

t Biblical Reseaiches, Vol. III. p. 354.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. i)7

disciples went out into the towns of Caesarea PhUippi. It was on this journey that
the memorable questions were asked, " Whom do men say that I am ? " and
" Whom say ye that I am ? " and that the no less memorable answer was re-
turned : " Thou art the Christ, the son of die living God." On the same journey
too it was that he began to teach his doubting, awe-struck disciples that he must
suffer many things, and be rejected of the elders, and of the chief priests and
scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again."* A rude and obscure
tradition indicates that Jesus wrought some of his most remarkable miracles at
Caesarea. It is said, that a statue was raised to his honour in this city by the
woman whom he cured of the issue of blood, t This statue, it is further said,
lasted till the time of Julian the Apostate, who ordered it to be cast down, and his
own set in its place. Philip the Tetrarch added his name to that of Caesarea, to dis-
tinguish this city from that of the other Caesarea on the sea-coast, the city of Cornelius
the centurion. It continued to be a place of some wealth for several ages, and its
church was of sufficient importance, in the early part of the fourth century, to send
a bishop to the Nicene council. During the Crusades it was repeatedly assaulted
by the contending parties, till, at length, in the latter half of the twelfth century it
was finally lost to the Christians, by the successful attack of Nureddin. The
Paneas of modem times is an insignificant town, containing about a hundred
and fifty houses. It is at some little distance from this spot that Caesarea Philippi
formerly stood its rums now covering the plain to the north of the bridge over the
Jordan.

Having thus briefly described the country about the Lake of Tiberias, and the
more important places in its vicinity, we will now trace the progress of Saladin's
conquering army after the fatal battle of Huttin. The castle of Tiberias surrendered
the next day, and the wife and children of Count Raymond fell into the hands
of Saladin. With his usual generosity, the conqueror immediately granted them
their fi-eedom, loaded them with presents, and sent them with an escort to
Tripoli. X Having allowed his troops two days to repose themselves in Tiberias,
he then led them to the plain of Sephouri, and thence to Ptolemais. That wealthy
city, dreading a siege, opened its gates at his approach, and he had the satisfaction
of fi-eeing four thousand Mussulmans, who had been reduced to slavery by the
Christians. Ignorant of the events which had occurred, the captains of the richly
freighted vessels fi-om Genoa, Venice, and other western ports, unsuspicioush
entered the harbour, and aided, by their splendid cargoes, to increase the triumph
of the infidel. Saladin next proceeded towards Phoenicia ; and Count Raymond
hastened, with the son of the Prince of Antioch, and the whole of his cavalrj ,
firom Tyre to Tripoli. But he died suddenly soon after his arrival at the latter
place ; and the son of the Prince of Antioch succeeded to his dominions.

* Mark, viii. 27-31. t Reland. P.-olestina, p. 918.

t Wilken Gescliichte der Kreuzziige, b. iii. p. 297.

2 c

98 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

When Saladin appeared before Tyre, he found it garrisoned by the flower of the
Christian chivalry, and, despairing of success against such a body of warriors,
he led his troops to Sarepta. Tliis city, and soon after Sidon, Beirout, and
Caesarea by the sea, fell, ahnost without resistance, into his power. At length he
airived before Askelon ; and here a small, but determined band of Christian warriors
compelled him to pause in his career. Either dreading the consequences of delay,
or from the nobler motives of humanity, he resolved, if possible, to accomplish
by treaty what he could not immediately gain by force. The King of Jerusalem
was now a prisoner at Damascus. Saladin ordered that he should be brought to
his camp before Askelon. When the unfortunate prince arrived, the conqueror
stated that he would grant him his freedom, and that of his brother Godfrey, Bishop
of Lydda, if he would use his influence to effect the speedy surrender of Askelon.
Guy of Lusignan had not sufficient force of character to resist such a proposal.
He summoned some of the brave defenders of the city to his presence. " Far
be it from me," he said, " to wish you, for the sake of one man, to deliver so
important a Christian town into the hands of the heathen ; but if you cannot
effectually defend it, will it not be better to sun-ender it at once, when my freedom
and that of my brother may be secured thereby, than vainly to prolong an
ineffectual resistance, and thereby lose the advantage which is now offered ? "

After consulting for some time together, the knights and citizens agreed that
it would be better to yield to the king's suggestion. They, however, required,
as the conditions of surrender, that twelve other prisoners of rank, besides the
kuig and his brother, should be set free ; that they should be allowed fourteen dajs
for the sale of their goods, and a safe conduct to Tripoli, while it should also be
allowed to a hundred Christian famihes to remain at Askelon under Saladin's
protection. It is recorded, that while the aged citizens, to whom the conduct
of this delicate affair was entrusted, were conferring with the sultan in his camp,
the sun was suddenly obscured, and almost midnight darkness prevailed. The
occurrence deeply affected almost every one present. It was felt as if nature
herself sympathized with the homeless and helpless people. Saladin granted
the most important of the requests made by the deputies from Askelon; but
the freedom of the king was not to be granted till the following March. This
continuance of his captivity was rendered necessary to Saladin by the fear which
he entertained, that, if Guy were permitted to return to Jerusalem, his presence
would add to the couiage of the Christians and the prolongation of the war. He
was appointed a residence at Nazareth.

Askelon having surrendered, all the smaller towns and fortresses in the
neighbourhood hastily followed its example. Among those, the fate of which
excited the most lively interest, was the castle of Kerac. The garrison of thii
fortress, commanded by a few brave knights, had held out for almost two years.
Neither the continual attacks of the enemy, nor the severest privations, had

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 99

overcome the resolution of this devoted little band. Their bravery excited the
respect and admiration of Saladin ; and when they were at length compelled to
yield to the power of famine, he treated them with the utmost respect ; bestowed
valuable presents upon them ; gave them a safe conduct to their own coimtrymen ;
and took care to ransom for them the women and children who had been sold into
slavery.

But powerful as was Saladin, he could not prevent the usual oils attending
a fierce and destructive w£ir. The whole country, from the Sea of Galilee to
Jerusalem, lay prostrate imder the scourge. He himself trembled for the fate
of the holy city. Anxious, therefore, as he had been to secure the quiet surrender
of Askelon, he was far more so to save Jerusdem from the horrors of a siege. To
prove his sincerity in this respect, he sent numerous messages fiom his camp
to the inhabitants of Jerusalem, offering them protection for a certain period,
an abundant supply of their present wants, and whatever else might be necessary
to amehorate their circumstances, on the condition that they should finally
deUver up the city into his hands. Deputies arrived in his camp on the very
day on which Askelon sun'endered. They brought an answer to his proposals
from the inhabitants of Jenisalem. Desperate as was their state, they would not
resign the city, consecrated by the sufferings of the Son of God, into the hands
of the heathen. Saladin gave reins to his feeUngs of disappointment and indignation
on receiving this reply. He said that, finding his clemency exercised in vain,
he would hasten forward with his army and take the city by assault.

The bravest champions of the Christian cause had fallen in the battle of
Huttin. Jerusalem was without a defender when Valian of Ibelin arrived at its
gates. This wamor had been obliged to sun-euder his strong castle of Ibelin
into the hands of Saladin. The conqueror had granted him his liberty, and
permission to conduct his wife and children to Jerusalem.* lids, however,
was only allowed him on the promise that he would delay but a single night
in the holy city, and never again bear arms against the Mussulmans. Misery
and despair were seen in the countenances of the inhabitants when Valian of Ibelin
thus entered Jerusalem. His presence excited a sudden feeling of hope and joy.
His courage and ability as a soldier were universally known. It seemed to the
people of Jerusalem as if he had been sent at that especial moment for their
deliverance. They thronged around him, poured forth their eager congratulations
at his appearance in the holy city, and at once proclaimed him their champion and
protector. But these expressions of deUgbt were soon silenced. Valian told them
under what conditions he enjoyed his liberty, and had been allowed to accompany
his wife and children to Jerusa em. By the rising of the morrow's sun he must
turn his back upon the towers and gates of the sacred city. The few hours which
he was allowed to spend with his family were precious ; and he would fain have
* Wilken Geschichte der Kreazziige, t. iii. b. ii. p. 300.

100 THE CHRISTUN IX PALESTINE.

escaped the painful scene which, as the evening advanced, on aU sides presented itself
to his view. Weeping and supplicating crowds uttered loud lamentations when they
found their hopes so suddenly destroyed. The old men of the city, the clergy and
magistrates more chgnified in their sorrow, stood consulting with each other as if
divested of all care for themselves, of all earthly anxieties, and only desiring the
safety of Jemsaleni. Even the time-worn edifices which crowned the hill of Zion
seemed, as the shades of eveumg fell upon them, to share in the sadness of
the hour. The brave warrior would gladly have changed such a scene for the
wildest of the battle-fields in which he had ever fought. He felt his own
helplessness and the helplessness of those who so shortly before had viewed
him as their deliverer. However powerful his aim, he could not raise it in their
defence. His oath, and his gratitude for Saladin's generosity, alike prohibited
his protracting his stay in the city beyond the following dawn.

At length some of the most venerable of the citizens approached him. They
knew the pledge which he had given to Saladin. But could a Christian knight
bind himself not to fight in defence of his faith .'' Or if he had done so, was
there no power in the church to free him firom such an unholy obligation ?
It was thus, unhappily, according to the taste of the age, the people of Jerusalem
reasoned with the brave but ill-instructed warrior. His conscience and natural
good sense long resisted the ai-guments with which he was thus assailed. At
last, the patriarch Heraclius, a supplicant himself, came to the aid of the other
supplicants. He was armed with arguments far mighter than any which had
been yet advanced. Conscience, common-sense, the nice feeling of honour,
the generous gratitude, which had hitherto protected the integrity of Vahan,
were all oveqjowered when Heraclius declaied that he had the power to absolve
him firom the obligation of his oath, and that he would be guilty of a heinous
offence if he did not avail himself of the proffered fi'eedom.

Vahan was too httle skilled in scholastic reasoning, to be able to answer the
arguments with which tliis appeal to his loyalty was accompanied. He obeyed the
commands of the patriarch, and was immediately installed in the office of governor
of Jerasalem, and commander of the little garrison which remained for its defence.
With a lingering feeling of the debt which he owed to Saladin's magnanimity, he
could not persuade himself to enter upon the duties of his new office, without
informing him of what had taken place. In no instance, perhaps, was the nobility
of Saladin's mind more remarkably evinced, than in his conduct on this occasion.
Instead of vowing the destruction of the peijm"ed knight, he found excuses for liim
on the plea of necessity ; and with pleasure granted the desired escort to conduct
his vdfe and children from Jeiiisalcm to the safer fortress of TripoU.

There was little to encoiuage Vahan at the commencement of his labours. Ol
aU the knights whose splendour and renown had given such lustre to the Christian
power in Jerusalem, two only remained. The city, on the other hand, was crowded

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. JOl

with fugitives from all parts of the country, and for these it was almost impossible
to provide either food or shelter. But Valian had been too long accustomed to
toil and danger to yield while a single hope remained. He adopted, therefore, the
best measures which circumstances would allow to prepare the city against
Saladin's approach. Selecting from the younger citizens fifty of the best and the
bravest, he conferred upon them the order of knighthood, and exhorted them to
prove by their fortitude that they were worthy of this unexpected honour. Small
bands of soldiers were then gathered together; and foraging parties were formed,
whose duty it was to scour the countiy found, and supply the city with the
provisions which might enable it to endure a protracted siege. A still bolder step
was taken. The want of money could not be overcome by any of the methods
above described. Representmg, therefore, the necessity to the patriarch, Valian
obtained his consent to strip the silver from the monuments at the holy sepulchre,
and coin it into money. While such were the measures adopted by the people
at Jerusalem, Saladin was collecting his forces from Galilee, and the other parts of
the countiy, in order to lead them in a body to the attack of the holy city. The
enthusiasm of his vast host was unbounded when the towers of Jerusalem arose to
view. Could the siege have been commenced in that moment of intense delight,
the Christians would in vain have opposed their feeble bai-riers to the onset. But
Saladin encamped his army on the southern side of the city, and extended his lines
from the tower of David, on the west, to the gate of St. Stephen, on the east_
He stdl entertained the hope, it is said, that the city might surrender, and so spare
him the necessity of taking it by force. But he was deceived in this hope ; and for
eight days the siege was canied on with skill and vigour. A noble and devoted
resistance was opposed to these attacks of the Mussulman army. Every class of
people in Jerusalem gladly bore a part in the conflict. Priests and monks, the
most aged men, and even women and children, exhibited proofs of the most patient
courage. Those who could not actually bear arms, employed themselves in per-
forming some work necessary to the general good of the city ; and in all the
churches, and even in the streets, crowds of such people might be seen devoutly
praying to Heaven for succour in this day of calamity.

At the end of the eighth day, Saladin saw that the siege must be indefinitely
prolonged, if he continued the attack from his present disadvantageous position.
He, therefore, broke up his camp, and removed his army to a spot on the northern
side of the city. When the Christians first obsei-ved this movement, they were
vain enough to entertain the idea that their resistance had worn out the patience of
Saladin, and that he was about finally to retire from their walls. But their proud
hope was soon converted into a feeling of despair. They beheld line after line o
the fierce besiegers arranged in the most formidable position, along the adjacent
slopes. The engines of war, which, owing to some difficulty in the ground, were almost
powerless on the southern side of the city, now threatened destruction to the

2 D

102 THE CHRISTIAN- IN I'ALESTINE.

imijcifcctly guarded walls. Extending from the Valley of Jehoshaphat to the
monastery on Cahary, Saladin's aiuuy occiii)ied the same position as that of the
Crusaders, when, about a hundred years before, they so gloriously made themselves
masters of Jerasalem.

Scarcely was the attack begun, when the hitherto resobed and courageous
Christians resigned themselves to terror. Many of them endeavoured to escape
from the city, but were driven back by the besiegers. Cries of despair resounded
on all sides. Only thirty or forty men could be persuaded to retain their arms, and
still attempt to deltind the walls Valian and the patriarch now proclaimed by a
herald, that they would give five thousand gold pieces to any fifty soldiers w ho
would imdertake to watch, during the night, the part of the walls which had been
injured by the enemy's machines. But none could be found to accept the offer.
Tenible was the suspense of the inhabitants during the hours of darkness. When
the morning dawned, many of those who dreaded the recurrence of such a night,
entreated Valian to lead them at once against the enemy, that they might die as
men, and not witness the fall of the holy city. Others, of a different temperament,
suggested, that Saladin might still, perhaps, be induced to grant them terms not
altogether inconsistent, under theu: present circumstances, with then- honour or
fideUty.

The party which gave this less heroic advice prevailed. Valian and the patriarch
Heraclius listened to the counsels which human prudence inspired ; and they re-
minded those who were so eager to exhibit their valour and die, that by such a
course they would be sacrificing not only themselves, but their wives and children,
the weak and the aged ; the great mass even of the Christians in Jerusalem. By
these arguments, the most violent spirits were somewhat subdued, and Valian was
requested to undertake the perilous task of presenting himself before Saladin, and
offering to open the gates of Jerusalem, if the conqueror would grant the inhabitants
certain conditions which they deemed essential to their safety.

Valian ventured to appear before Saladin. He was permitted to state the pro-
posals with which he was intrusted. The conqueror listened impatiently to the
conditions on which it was now offered to open the gat€s to his troops. Even at
the moment when Valian was conversing with him, tidings were brought to the tent
of fresh breaches being made in the walls. It seemed evident that the time for
treaty was past. But when all seemed lost, the desperate courage of a httle band
of ([Christians created new doubts as to the real strength of the forces within the
walls. Falling furiously on the Mussulmans nearest the breach, the devoted cham-
pions of the cross mowed them down like grass, and spread ten-or for the instant
through all the neighbouring ranks. The intelligence of this occurrence reached
Saladin's eai-s as rapidly as that which had flattered him with the hopes of imme-
diate conquest. More inclined to spare than to destroy, he allowed the altered
aspect of affairs to exercise its full influence on his counsels. He now hstcned

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. ]03

more calmly to the proposals of Valian, and he was directed to return to the camp
the follow-ing day. Fearful work was wrought in the interval by the hatterinf-rams,
and other warUke machines of the besiegers. When Valian appeared before Sa-
ladin at the appointed hour, he found him cold and stem. He would listen to no
terms, but demanded the immediate and unconditional surrender of the city.
Grief almost orei-powered the heart of the brave knight as he contemplated the
threatened destruction of Jerusalem and its inhabitants. He could no longer pro-
serve bis fortitude or his proud bearing ; but, giving loose to his feehngs, he patheti-
cally besought the Sultan to have pity upon a people overwhelmed with such sorrows
and calamities.

Saladin was deeply affected by this appeal, and exclaimed, " Well, then, for the
love of God, and to please you, knight, let the people retain possession of their
goods and property. They must themselves become mine, as the inhabitants of a
conquered city; but I will allow them, as far as they are able, to purchase their
freedom at a stipulated price." He then fixed the ransom of each man, whether poor
or rich, at twenty pieces of gold ; and that of a woman or child at ten pieces.
Valian was too well acquainted with the poverty of the great mass of the people in
Jerusalem to listen to these conditions without a further expression of affliction.
There were but few, he said, who could pay such a sum for their ransom. Thousands
of persons were now in the city who had lied thither from distant parts of the coun-
try ; and not one in a hundred could raise twenty pieces of gold to save himself from
slavery. Saladin listened mildly to this representation, and directing Valian to
come to his tent the following day, promised to consider his statements.

When the knight related to the people, who were so anxiously waiting his ap-
pearance, the result of his interview with Saladin, most of them seemed to feel that
their fate was sealed, and that they were about to be consigned to a hopeless sla-
very. The Patriarch Heraclius, it is said, expressed the deepest distress. He was
filled with anguish at the thought of leaving any of his brethren in bondage to tiie
infidel. But how or whence was a sum of money to be raised sufficient for the
ransom of such a multitude ? The only aid which could be depended upon in this
necessity was a portion of the treasure which had been sent to Palestine by the King
of England. It was in the hands of the Hospitallers, and the commander of the
order readily agreed to give it up towai'ds the ransom of the poorer Christians. But
even this would afford little assistance, should Saladin insist upon a sum approach-
ing that before named ; and intense was the anxiety winch prevailed when Valian,
on the following morning, left the gates of Jerusalem for the Sultan's tent.

Saladin received the knight with courtesy. It was evidently his wish to grant the
Christians the mildest terms which his duty to his own officers would allow. A rich
booty was looked for by those who had so successfully fought under his standard ;
and, powerful as he was, lie dared not altogether disappoint their expectations.
Anxious to aid the one party and satisfy the other, Saladin now fixed the ransom of

104 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

each man at ten gold pieces ; that of a woman at five ; and of a child at one_
Seven thousand of the poorest of the people were to be ransomed, in the mass, at a
certain price, which Saladin, moved by the prayers of Valian, generously reduced to
less than half the sum. Fourteen days were to be edlowed the Christians to dispose
of their property, and evacuate the city. Those who remained after that period
were to be reduced to slavery; but Saladin made himself responsible for the safe
conduct of all those whose ransom was paid, to Antioch or Alexandria, where they
were to be allowed to remain till ships should aixive to convey them to Europe.
Valian desked that two women and ten children should be reckoned for every man ;
and that a certain number of those accustomed to bear arms shoidd be permitted
to act as a guard to the rest during their journey.

Favourable as were the conditions gained for the helpless inhabitants of Jerusa-
lem, Valian and the Patriarch Heraclius appeared in the eyes of many as betrayers
of the holy city. They were even compared to Judas Iscariot, who sold the Saviour
for gold ; and loud and bitter were the expressions of horror which arose when the
heralds paiaded the streets, proclaiming the name of Saladin. The entrance of the
Sultan was attended with great pomp and solemnity ; and his standard soon floated
proudly from the tower of David. Attended by a host of followers, the Mahomme-
dan priests immediately proceeded to purify the holy places, the temple, and
other edifices sacred in their sight, from the supposed pollution which they had
contracted during the ninety years of the Christian domination. Five camels, laden
with vessels full of rose-water, brought from Damascus for the purpose, arrived in
time for this ceremony. The temple having been thoroughly washed with the per-
fumed water, the priests began their songs of jubilee, and the ears of the unhappy
Christians were on all sides filled with the hateful cries of these ening worshippers.
When the golden cross was removed from the temple, and trodden under foot by
the Mussulmans, the indignation of the Christians knew no bounds ; and it was only
by the stern watchfulness of the guards, placed in every quarter of the city, that they
were prevented from flying again to arms.

It may be supposed from the generosity of Saladin's character, that he but
little encouraged proceedings which were calculated to add to the sorrows of the
conquered and almost homeless people. Testimony is universally borne to his
benevolence and sympathy ; and it is acknowledged on all sides, that he did every-
thing in his power to curb the violence of his haughty followers. He even shamed,
it is said, by his compassionate generosity, the selfishness of many of the richer
Christians. It was found that vast numbers of those who possessed ample means
not only for their own ransom, but for that of others, were utterly regardless of
the fate of their brethren, threatened with all the horrors of captivity and slavery,
through want of the trifling sum demanded for their deliverance. Saladin himself
furnished some of these poor neglected people with the means of providing for their
ransom ; and when he saw that neither his example nor their own conscience would

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 105

move the wealthy Christians to perform the duties of charity, he issued a decree, by
which it was ordered that tliose who had money or goods, should carry nothing awa\-
with them but what was required for their support in their journey to Europe. Bui
this command was easily evaded. The wealthy citizens, and the Knights Templars,
and Hospitallers, found ready means of concealing their wealth ; and the public
fond, the basis of which was furnished by the gold of the English monarch, was only
suiBcient for the ransom of seven thousand of those who were supplicating in
throngs not to be left in hopeless slavery.

The magnanimity of Saladin was shared by his brother Malek-al-Adel, and by
many of his principal emirs. Malek having requested a thousand Christian
prisoners to be given him as a portion of the spoils, he immediately set them at
liberty, and without ransom. Several of the emirs acted in like manner; and
fourteen hundred of the most miserable of the people were allowed to depart
without paying any ransom, at the request of Valian and the Patriarch. Saladin
seemed to revel in the contemplation of these instances of humanity ; and one day,
when he was surrounded by the great officers of his army, he exclaimed, "My
brother, Malek-al-Adel, and the patriarch, and Valian have exercised their
benevolence ; and I will exercise mine." On saying this, he gave orders that the
next morning, at sunrise, the gate of St. Stephen should be set open, and that all
the poor Christians who, after strict examination, were found to possess no means
of ransoming tliemselves, should be allowed to depart fi-ee.* With the first dawn of
light multitudes of those so unexpectedly emancipated from a dreaded slavery
assembled about the gate ; and till it was closed at sun-set, the poorest and most
destitute might be seen setting forth on one of the saddest and most perilous
journeys ever commenced. Without the means of support, without the prospect of
a home, these wretched wanderers had nothing to prevent them from yielding to
despair but the feeling that they had escaped bondage to the infidel. This gave
a firmness to the step of the feeblest among them. Most of them knew no other
land but that from which they were now to depart. They looked towards the
West, and the states of Christendom, with mingled sentiments of apprehension and
hope. A life of strange excitement, of warfare and religion, of devout wanderings,
of labours undertaken in the expectation of divine rewards — all this had but little
fitted them to engage in the enterprises, or submit to the toils, of the cold, vulgai-
world. Even those who had the stoutest hearts could not repress a sigh, as the\
contemplated their arrival in places irom which their homes and families, and even
their names, probably, had long passed away. But still there was something
to encourage them. They had breathed the air of the Holy Land ; their poverty

' Even after this act of generosity (Wilken, b. iv. c. v. p. 315) el - en thousand Christians stUl
remained for whom no ransom could at the time be paid. Saladin probably considered tliat some
effort ought at least to be made by the states of Christendom in favour of these captives.

2 E

106 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

and sufferings were consecrated ; and when they reached the noble cities of the
West, there would surely be those who would hail them as objects of their loftiest
sympathy. Little did these poor outcasts imagine that it would only be when they
passed within the borders of Christendom that their destitution would present
itself in all its actual horrors.

Consideration and mercy marked the conduct of Saladin to the last act which he
had to perform, in respect to the conquered people. The widows and orphans of
those who had fallen in the battle of Huttin were assembled in large numbers in
Jerusalem. No ransom was demanded of tbem; but they were utterly heljjless.
Saladin saw this ; and immediately provided for their necessities out of his own
purse. The wives and children of the knights and others who had been taken
prisoners in the same battle felt themselves almost in a more deplorable condition.
They were to commence their journey alone and unprotected. They were to leave
behind them husbands and fathers, never to be seen again. Broken-hearted, they
lingered about the gate opened to give them freedom. The Sultan's generosity had
supplied them with what was immediately necessary for their journey. Still they
delayed. Their grief was too heavy a burden for their womanly hearts. They
would have prayed to remain in captivity, had bondage brought with it no fear of
shame or dishonour. Saladin saw their anguish. He could not resist the appeal ;
and, giving reins at once to his sympathy, he liberated their husbands and fathers,
and sent them, glowing with gratitude, to be the protectors of those whose
fate, till this moment, had been to them a source of the keenest anxiety and
suffering.

Foreseeing the dangers which the travellers would have to encounter on the way,
Saladin provided for their safety by dividing them into four bands ; and sending
them different roads. At the head of two were Valian and the Patriarch Heraclius.
The other divisions were commanded by the T'jmplars and Hospitallers. Still
further to protect them, the Sultan gave each band an escort of his own soldiers ;
and so well, it is said, did the brave and generous Mussulmans fulfil the wish of
their sovereign, that the Christians suffered no hann whatever as long as they were
under their protection. Instances even of the purest compassion were frequently
exhibited on the part of these haughty warriors. When any of the Christians
became faint from the length of the way, some one or other of the soldiers would
descend from his horse, and resign it for the use of the poor exile. The children
of the party might generally be seen mounted before the Mussulmans, and guarded
by them with the tenderest care. Nothing, in short, could exceed the humanity of
these men ; and bitter as was the task for the old chroniclers to record the over-
throw of the Christian dominion in Palestine, they bear witness, in the strongest
terms, to the noble conduct of both Saladin and his people.

The sufferings of the Christians, as has been already intimated, really commenced
when they arrived in the provinces belonging to their brethren. Even Queen

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 107

Sibylla was deprived at Tyre of the ship with which she was furnished for her
voyage to Europe. The poorer travellers were stripped by the Count of TripoU
of the little money which they possessed through the generosity of Saladin ; and
had not the mercy of the Mussulman commander at Alexandria been exercised in
their behalf, hordes of Christian exiles must have perished of want. Protected
during the winter by this benevolent chief, when the spring arrived, and vessels
entered the ports from Venice, Genoa, and other provinces of the West, they were
sent on board these ships, and the Mussulman governor, with stem looks and words,
announced to the captains, that for any harm which the defenceless Christians
might suffer at their hands, he would inflict tenfold vengeance on the merchants
who might afterwards appear in Alexandria.

Such were the immediate results of the battle of Huttin ; of those events which
gave a new interest to the neighbourhood of Tiberias, and the consequences of
which extended, as we have seen, to Jerusalem itself. The next stage in the
history of the Crusades makes us acquainted with events of no less importance to
Palestine, so dear to our thoughts in all its varieties of fortune. Again in the
power of the infidel, the states of Europe appear to have regarded it once more with
those deep feeUngs of enthusiasm and reverence which had fallen asleep in the days
of success and triumph. It is far from improbable that divine wisdom might
employ the sentiments which the fate of this country from time to time excited, to
the higher purposes of providence ; and that when Europe was called upon to
mouni the new captivity of the Holy Land, it was undergoing a discipline and pre-
paration for enterprises connected with the moral advancement of the world at larj^e.

FROM THE LAKE OF TIBERIAS TO SAMARIA,

No part of Galilee can be accounted as equal in interest to the Lake of Tiberias
and its environs. Our Lord's frequent presence on its shores ; the miracles which
he performed there ; his discourses, so sublime and tender, gave a sanctity to the
scenes around, with which pious memories will continue to invest them to the end
of time. We have followed his footsteps to the somewhat remote district of
Caesarea-Phihppi. This was probably near the boundary of his joumeyings in that
direction. We are now to \'isit another part of the country, and one the name of
which, though not so powerfully associated with the grander events of sacred story,
yet brings to our own thoughts, scenes and occuiTences of considerable interest.

Samaria was anciently the name of a mountain, then of a city, and at length
of a whole district. This district Ues immediately between Galilee and Judaea, and
was consequently traversed periodically by the inhabitants of the former region
in their way to Jerusalem at the time of the great festivals. It is not to be
compared in extent with either of the other divisions of Palestine ; but in its general
character and condition seems little different from the more southern region.*
According to Josephus, its boundary at the one extremity was near the town
of Ginea or Jenin in the plain, and by the other, at the toparchy of Acrabatene.
The Jews, in speaking of their country, were in the habit of omitting any mention
of Samaria, enumerating only Judaea, Galilee, and Peraea.t But though thus ex-
pressing their contempt for the district, they never regarded it in the light of a hea-
then land, but reputed the soil, the roads, and the wells, holy. Hence our Lord, in
asking water of the woman of Samaria, committed no offence against the prejudices
of his people. He might drink of the water of the well though in the very heart of
this despised region.

Soon after the commencement of the captivity of the ten tribes, constituting
the kingdom of Israel, a people called Cuthaeans, from the interior of Persia and
Media, were sent by the conqueror to inhabit the waste and depopulated country.
These strangers brought with them the religion of their native land ; and, mingling
with the poor remnant of the Israelites left behind, or who had been allowed
to return, they instituted, by the help of a priest, a form of worship which exhibited
a strange combinatiou of truth, error, and superstition. In the time of Alexander

* Quaresmius Teme Sanctoe Elucidatio, t. i. p. 15.
t Eeland, Palrestina, lib. i. p. 1/9; lib. iii. p. 979.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALKSTIXE. IQQ

tne Great, Sanballat, the then governor of the Samaritans, obtained permission to
erect a temple on Mount Gerizim, and appointed his son-in-law — who, thou"h the

son of Jaddua, the high-priest at Jerusalem, had taken up his abode in Samaria

high-priest of the new sanctuary. This completed the sum of offences which the
Samaritans had committed against the Jews ; and hence the burning hostility of
feeling manifested on so many occasions between the two people. " Such," says
Josepbus, " is the disposition of the Samaritans, that when the Jews are in adversity
they deny that they ai-e of kin to them, and then they confess the truth ; but when
they perceive that some good fortune has befallen them, they immediately pretend
to have communion with them, saying that they belong to them, and derive their
genealogy from the posterity of Joseph, Ephraim, and Manasseh."*

The Samaritans suffered severely in the wars which attended, and succeeded the
fall of the Jewish nation. But they still retained their ancient position, and
exhibited no less virulence in after times against the Christians settled in their
neighbourhood than the Jews themselves. About the close of the sixth century,
they attacked them with sanguinary fury, and endeavoured to expel them i'rom the
province. A still more violent onset took place some time after, when a p?jty
of people from Caesarea, who had travelled to Sichem, professed themselves
converted by the discourses of the Christian teachers. Many thousands of persons
perished in the struggle which ensued. The land was left untilled ; aud it required
the exercise of imperial power to save the entire country from ruin.

Samaria, the capital city of this division of the country, was built by Omri, king
of Israel ; of whom it is said that he bought the hill Samaria of Shemer for two
talents of silver, and built on the hill, and called the name of the city which
he built after the name of Shemer, owner of the hill, Samaria. t Ahab adorned it
according to his own luxurious taste ; and the vices which were rampant within
its walls, at length brought down upon it the signal vengeance of Heaven. " I will
smite," were the words of prophecy, " the winter-house with the summer-house, and
the houses of ivory shall perish, and the great houses shall have an end, saith
the Lord." This prophecy was fulfilled with the most terrific exactness. The
siege of Samaria by Benhadad, king of Syria, was accompanied by circumstances,
only one of which is sufficient to reveal all the horrors of that event : " There was
a great famine in Samaria," it is emphaticallj^ said. "And as the king of Israel was
passing by upon the wall, there cried a woman unto him, saying, Help, my lord, O
king ! And he said. If the Lord do not help thee, whence shall I help thee .? out
of the bam floor, or out of the wine-press? And the king said unto her. What ailetli
thee .' And she answered, This woman said unto me, Give thy son, that we may eat
him to-day; and we will eat my son to-morrow. So we boiled my son, and did eat
him ; and I said unto her, on the next day. Give thy son, that we may eat him : and
she hath hid her son. And it came to pass, when the king heard the words of the

* Antiq. b. xi. c. 8. t 1 Kings xvi. 24.

2 F

110 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

woman, that he rent his clothes, and he passed by upon the wall, and the people
looked, and behold he had sackcloth witliin upon his flesh." *

It was not, however, tiU loug after this, that the city of Samaria was taken and
levelled with the dust, by the armies of Esarhaddon. From this state of desolation
it again arose, and remained a flourishiug city till it was reduced in the wars of the
Maccabees, by Hyrcauus, who let in the torrents from the neighbouring hills, and
once more left it in ruins. But its ancient renown and noble position for defence
induced Herod to rebuild it. From him it received the name of Sebaste, that is,
Augusta, in honour of his patron the Emperor Augustus ; and it now again became
a place of great strength and imjjortance.

In the account which Mr. Elhot has given of his journey from Nazareth to
Sebaste, he says, " The first view of the representative of the famous capital of the
kings of Israel is very imposing. It is built on a high semi-spherical mount,
standing alone in a valley encompassed by hills, and covered with terraces, of which
we counted sixteen rising one above another. When each of these was defended with
all the valour of the Israelitish host, in the days of their glory, and when the art of
war was yet in its infancy, it can readily be conceived that a city so circumstanced
must have been almost impregnable. On the north-east, about half-way between
the summit and the base of the hill, eighteen limestone columns are stiU standing,
which seem to have foimed part of a pai-allelogram, whose dimensions were about
a hundred and eighty by eighty yards. On the top are two more parallel lines of
pillars, the one containing six, the other seven, in a comparatively perfect state.
They are all without capitals, but appear to belong to the Doric order, and were
doubtless erected by Herod. On the opposite side, on one of the highest terraces,
are two rows of Umestone columns, distant from each other about twenty yards, the
one containing twenty-one, the other fifty-six. These seem to have formed a double
colonnade, the present ruins of which are scattered over a space nearly a quarter of a
mile in length ; nor is it easy to determine whether it originally extended all round
the mountain, which at that distance from the summit may be a mile and a half in
circumference, or whether it only adorned the chief street of the city."t

Even in the time of Pere de Naud and d'Arvieux, the ancient Samaria, or
Sebaste, had left only scattered traces of its ancient magnificence.! The hUl on
which it stood was long ago covered with gardens and orchards, and its tranquil
aspect presented then, as now, a strange contrast to that which it must have
exhibited when covered with the splendid ten-aces, the turreted walls, and the castles
and palaces of the august city.

It was in one of the towers, on the eastern side of the walls, if tradition speak
true, that John the Baptist was imprisoned ; when Herod, in the midst of feasting

2 Kings vi. 25. t Travels in the Tliree Great Empires, vol. ii. p. 381.

t Maundrell, p. 58. Both this traveller and Pietro della Valle, state that these remains, though
few, gave signs of a more than ordinary splendour. Viaggi. t. i. p. 325.

.N*

\"j:

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 1 1 (

and revelry, sent the executioner to put him to death. The Empress Helena built
a beautit'iil church over the spot, consecrated, it was said, by the ashes not only of
Johu the Baptist, but of Elisha and Obadiah. ^Mien the Chevalier d'Arvienx
visited the place, the tomb could only be seen through a narrow iron grating ; but
the curious stone door which then protected it has been tliroA>Ti down, and lies in
liaguients near the entrance. Enough of the church remains to give an idea of its
origiual extent and magnificence. The great altar towards the cast, with its dome
supported by marble columns, of the Corinthian order, are still sufficiently entire to
excite the admiration of travellers. A mosque has been formed of the western end
of the edifice, and Christians and Turks arc said to share the building between
them.*

Independent of the tradition respecting John the Baptist, the site of the ancient
city of Samaria is interesting from its having been so early an object of care to the
first teachers of the gospel. The labours of Philip the evangelist, the affectionate
zeal of those by whom the success of his first efforts was secured, and tlie
thankful devotion of the people themselves, prove the important position which
Samaria tlien spirituidlj' enjoyed in the eye of heaven.

We have spoken of Samaria first because of its ancient rank as the capital
of the country known by the same name. Some travellers also have visitid
it, in their way from Galilee, before proceeding to Sichem. But the latter is the
city which the pilgrim may be su])posed to liave first souglit on his way from the
Lake of Tiberias; and to that wc now direct our attention.

Dr. Clarke travelled in the year 1801 from Nazareth to Samaria, and his account
of the country through which ho passed is highly picturesque and interesting.
Passing over the plain of Esdraelon, and by the ruins of Jenuiu, already described,
he and his party arrived at the ancient castle of Santorri, situated on a hill, and
much resembling, he says, the old castellated buildings in England. " Having
ascended to the castle," he continues, " we were admitted wiijiin the gate, bineatli
a vaulted passage, quite dark from its tortuous length and many windings. In the
time of the Crusades, it must have been impregnable ; yet is there no account of
it in any author, and certainly it is not of later construction than the period of the
holy wars. The governor received us into a large vaulted chaiiiber, resembling wiiat
is called the keep in some of our old Norinan castles, which it s(» iiitich reseiulil'd,
that if we consider the part acted by the Normans in these wars, it is possible this
building may have owed its origin to them. A number of wcajions, such as guns,
pistols, sabres, and poignards, hung round the walls. Suspended with these, were
the saddles, gilded stirrujis, and ricli housings, belonging to the lord of the citacK-l.
Upon the floor were couched his gieyhouiids ; and his hawkers stood wailing in ihc
yard before the door of the apartment ; so that everything contributed to ixeite

• D'Arvieux. Mcnioires, p. 80.

112 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

ideas of other times, and a scene of former ages seemed to be realized before our
eyes. The figiu-e of the governor himself was not the least interesting part of the
bring picture. He had a long red beard, and wore a dress as distinguished by
feudal magnificence and military grandeur as it is possible to imagine. He re-
ceived us with the usual hospitality of his countrymen ; dismissed the escort which
had accompanied us ; seemed proud of placing us under the protection of his pecu-
liar soldiers ; and allowed us a guard, appointed from his own troops, to insure
our safety as far as Napolose. We had some conversation with him upon the dis-
ordered state of the countrj', particularly of Galilee. He said that the rebel Arabs
were in great number upon all the hills near the plain of Esdraelon ; that they were
actuated at this critical juncture by the direst motives of revenge and despair, for
the losses they had sustained in consequence of the ravages committed by Djezzar's
army ; but that he beheved we should not meet with any molestation in our journey
to Jerusalem." *

The road fi'om the castle of Santorri to Napolose, Nablouse, or Neapolis, the
Sichem of former times, passes over a rough and mountainous tract of country.
When Maundrell visited this place in 1697, he found it in a very mean condition,
though with a large population, and consistiug mainly of two streets, running parallel
to each other imder Mount Gerizim. In his other mention of the city, he says,
" It stands in a narrow valley between Mount Gerizim on the south, and Ebal on
the north, being built at the foot of the former, for so the situation both of the city and
mountain is laid down by Josephus. Gerizim," he adds, " hangeth over Sichem ; and
Moses commanded to erect an altar towards the east, not far firom Sichem, between
Mount Gerizim, on the right hand (that is, to one looking eastward, on the south)
and Ebal on the left (that is, on the north) which so plainly assigns the position
of these two mountains, that it may be wondered how geographers should come to
differ so much about it ; or for what reason Adrichomius should place them both
on the same side of the valley of Sichem."t

An old Italian traveller, Pietro della Valle, traversed this same district in the year
1616. Having described the coimtry around as most beautiful and fertile, he says,
" that he found the city Napolosa exceedhigly well inhabited." J According to Dr.
Clai-ke's account, a great improvement must have taken place in the external ap-
pearance of Sichem since the time of Maundrell. " The view of this place," says
the former, " much surprised us, as we had not expected to find a city of such mag-
nitude in the road to Jerusalem. It seems to be the metropolis of a very rich and

* Travels, Part II. p. 508. Buckhardt says, that tlie villages belonging to this district can raise an
ai'my of five thousand men. He adds, they are a restless people, continually in dispute with each
other, and frequently in insurrection against the Pasha. Djezzar never succeeded in completely sub-
duing them ; and Junot, with a corps of fifteen hundred French soldiers, was defeated by them.

P. :U2.

+ Journey from Aleppo to Jerusalem, 1697, March 24th.

t Habitata horicslamenle. Viaggi di Pietro della Valle, U Pellegrino. Roma, 1662, p. 322.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

113

extensive country, abounding with provisions and all the necessary articles of life,
in much greater profusion than the town of Acre. White bread was exposed for
sale in the streets, of a quaUty superior to any that is to be found elsewhere through-
out the Levant. The governor of Napolose received and regaled us with all the
magnificence of an Eastern sovereign. Refreshments of every kind known in the
country were set before us ; and when we supposed the hst to be exhausted, a most
sumptuous dinner was brought in."

"There is nothing in the Holy Land," continues the writer, " finer than the view
of Napolose, from the heights around it. As the traveller descends towards it from
the hills, it appears luxuriantly embosomed m the most dehghtful and fragrant
bowers ; half concealed by rich gardens and by stately trees, collected into groves,
all around the bold and beautiful valley in which it stands. Trade seems to flourish
among its inhabitants. Their principal employment is in making soap ; but the
manufactures of the town supply a very widely extended neighbomhood, and they
are exported to a great distance upon camels. In the morning after our arri\ al,
we met caravans coming fi-om Grand Cairo, and noticed others reposing in the large
olive-plantations near the" gate."

Pietro della Valle states that Sichem, in his time, was the principal seat of the
Samaritans ; but that there was a saying common amongst the Jews, that, in what-
ever place they made their abode, they could never reach to the number of ten
families.*

The same Pietro della Valle used great efforts while at Sichem to obtain a
copy of the Scriptures in use among the Samaritans. The French ambassador at
Constantinople had earnestly requested him to spare no pains in seeking to make
this acquisition ; and Pietro remarks, that he had good reason for this anxiety on
the subject, for that in those ancient copies of the Scriptures, written in the Sama-
ritan character, the pure and faithful sincerity of the text might be preserved in
passages which, it was possible, had been corrupted by the Jews since the deatli ol"
Christ. Maundrell was also engaged in some interesting inquiries while at Sichem.
" Upon one of these mountains, Ebal or Gerizim," he says, " God commanded thi'
children of Israel to set uj) great stones, plastered over and inscribed with the body
of their law; and to erect an altar, and to offer sacrifices, feasting and rejoicing
before the Lord. But now whether Gerizim or Ebal was the place appointed for
this solemnity, there is some cause to doubt. The Hebrew Pentateuch, and ours
from it, assigns Mount Ebal for this use, but the Samaritan asserts it to be Gerizim."

Respecting this matter, Maundrell entered into conversation with the chief-priest
of the Samaritans. This priest, it is said, " pretended that the Jews had maliciously
altered their text, out of odium to the Samaritans, putting for Gerizim, Ebal, upon
no other account, but only because the Samaritans worshipped on the fonner moun-
tain, which they would have, for that reason, not to be the true place appointed by

• Viaggi, p. 323.

2 6

114 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

God for his worship and sacrifice. To confirm this, he pleaded that Ebal was the
mountain of cursing ; (Deut. xi. 29 ;) and in its own nature an unpleasant place;
but, on the contrary, Gerizim was the mountain of blessing, by (Jod's own appoint-
ment, and also in itself fertile and dehghtftil ; from whence he inferred the proba-
bility that this latter must have been the true mountain appointed for those reli-
gious festivals ; and not, as the Jews have corruptly written it, Ebal. We observed
it to be in some measure true, that which he pleaded concerning the nature of
both mountains ; for though neither of the mountains has much to boast of as to its
pleasantness, yet as one passes between them, Gerizim seems to discover a some-
what more verdant, fi-uitful aspect than Ebal. The reason of which may be, because,
fronting towards the north, it is sheltered from the heat of the sun by its own shade ;
whereas Ebal, looking southward, and receiving the sun that comes directly upon
it, must in consequence be rendered more scorched and urn'ruitful. The Samaritan
priest could not say that any of those great stones which God directed Joshua to
set up were now to be seen in Mount Gerizim ; which, were they now extant, would
determine the question clearly on his side." * Like Pietro della Valle, Maundrell
was unsuccessful in his attempt to obtain a copy of the Samaritan Pentateuch ; he
adds, however, a circumstance which gives us but a poor idea of the value oi' the
priest's knowledge ; for he says, " The priest showed me a copy of the Samaritan
Pentateuch, but would not be persuaded to part with it upon any consideration.
He had likewise the first volume of the English Polyglot, which he seemed to
esteem equally with his own manuscript."

When Mr. Elliott visited Nablouse,t he was shown in the synagogue of the
Samaiitans a copy of the Pentateuch on two rollers, which the priest and others
declared to be the oldest manuscript in the world. According to their statement,
it was written by Abishua, the son of Phinehas, the son of Eleazer, the son of
Aaron. Mr. Elliott says that it bears marks of great age, and is patched in differ-
ent places ynih pieces of parchment. " Some of the learned," he adds, " are of
opinion that it is only a transcript from Ezra's copy, written agam in the old
Hebrew or Phoenician letter, out of which Ezra transcribed it into that of the Chal-
deans, then first adopted, and since commonly used by the Jews. Others are dis-
posed to regard it as an independent record, which has been preserved ever since
the days of Jeroboam, first by the ten revolting tribes, and subsequently by the
Samaritans."

The opinions here alluded to respecting the copy of the Pentateuch in use among
the Samaritans, have been modified and multiphed in the course of critical debate.
But of late years, the value assigned to the decision of the learned German scholar
Gesenius, has almost silenced the controversy. According to the inquiries of this
profound critic, the Samaritan copy of the five books of Moses possesses no value
as a guide in determining the correct reading of the ancient Scriptures. But still

* Jonmey, p. 60, t Travels, vol. ii. p. 397.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. II5

it is a precious relic of antiquity ; and, differing so little as it does, and that in no
important matter, from the Hebrew Pentateuch, it affords an unquestionable testi-
mony to the general integrity of the Bible as we now possess it.

It is only in Nablouse that Samaritans, properly so called, are now to be found.
But, few as they are iu number, they retain all the peculiarities of their ancestors
and illustrate, in a very remarkable manner, some of the most interesting passages
of the New Testament. During the middle ages, their existence as a distinct people
appears to have attracted little notice. ITiey shared with the other inhabitants of
Palestine the evils which war, and its attendant convulsions, brought upon the land ;
nor was it tUl the latter half of the sixteenth century, that European scholars began to
feel any curiosity respecting their character or customs. Julius Scaliger, a man of
great enidition, led the way in the inquiries now commenced. He impressed upon
the minds of contemporary scholars, the importance of obtaining a copy of that por-
tion of the Scriptures which the Samaritans possessed in the original character ;
the character, that is, which the Hebrews used before the captivity ; after which, as
is well known, they employed that of the Chaldees. Scaliger's wish was furthered
by the old Italian traveller whom we have quoted, Pietro della Valle. This zealous
and devout pUgrim, as he loved to call himself, after fjdling to procure a copy of the
Samaritan Pentateuch at Cairo, Gaza, or Nablouse, was rewarded for his labour bv
obtaining at Damascus both a copy of the Pentateuch itself, in the Samaritan
character, and also a Samaritan version of that portion of Scripture.* Our own
venerable Archbishop Usher procvu'ed at great expense six copies of this Penta-
teuch ; and ten others were subsequently obtained by English scholars, or through
their instrumentality.

It is an interesting fact, that the Samaritans have listened eagerly, at dif-
ferent times, to reports respecting the existence of remnants of their race in other
parts of the world. At present it is said, the only Samaritans in the world are
at Nablouse ; and their number amounts to no more than eighty persons.t Several
were formerly to be found in Cairo, and various provinces of the East ; and it was at
one time reported that traces of them were discovered in European countries.
A correspondence was commenced with the Samaritans of Nablouse and Cairo
by the indefatigable Joseph Scahger. His letters were answered ; but such was
the imperfect means of communication in those times between distant countries,
that more than twenty years elapsed before the epistles written by the Samaritans
reached the hands of any one competent to give them to the public.

Rather more than sixty years after the death of Joseph Scaliger, Robert
Huntington,! who, like Maundrell, was chaplain to the English factory at Aleppo,

* The former of these he gave to tlie French ambassador, who sent it as a present to the fathers
of the Oratoire de Saint-Honor^. Memoire sur I'Etat Actuel des Samaritains, par M.deSacy,
p 14.

t Elliott. Travels, vol. ii. p. 392. t Memoire sur I'Etat des Samarit; p. 16.

1J6 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

made a journey to Jenisalem, and entered, on his arrival at Nablouse, into a long
conference with the Samaritans of that city. The interest which he appeared to
take on the subject of their worship and customs, struck the Samaritans with
astonishment, and they asked him if there were any Israehtes in his own country.*
He replied in the affirmative ; but it is somewhat difficult to understand in what
sense he gave this answer ; whether, that is, he understood the word Israehte in its
most extended sense ; or, whether he really believed that there were at that time
Samaritans in the British isles. Having, however, heard his reply, they put a
manuscript in his hand, and their surprise was redoubled when they saw that he
could read their characters. Con\'inced by this circumstance that there were
Israelites in England, they had also no longer any doubt but that these Israelites
were their brethren. Huntington, taking advantage of this notion, advised them
to write to these their supposed brethren ; to state to them the principal points oi
their religion, especially those which distinguished them from the Jews ; and to
send with their letter a copy of the Law written in the Samaritan character.
They immediately gave him the latter, and eight days after, sent the letter after him
to Jerusalem which they had written to their brethren in England. Both the
letter and the manuscript were subsequently transmitted to Thomas Marshall, the
learned rector of Exeter College, Oxford. This accomplished scholar answered the
letter, and the Samaritans were sufficiently encouraged by the notice which they
received, to continue the correspondence for several years. Ludolf, a learned
Gennan of Francfort, also opened a correspondence with them in 1684, and two
letters were received by him, written in the Hebrew language, but the Samaritan
character.

After a long interval, during which this interesting subject was almost entirely
neglected, the attention of European scholars was again directed to the inquiry,
by the zeal of M. Gregoire, a French prelate, who obtained from the various
consuls sent by his government to the East, in 1808, many valuable notices
respecting the state of the Samaritans. The communications which passed between
the persons employed by the French authorities and the Samaritans, were at length
committed to the care of the celebrated orientalist, de Sacy. On these he founded
a memoire, and certain questions, which he addressed to the Samaritan priest,
Salameh, son of Tobias ; and the answer which he received affords the best infor-
mation we can expect to obtain respecting this remarkable people. t

From the abstract which M. de Sacy has given of the matters contained in the

* A very curious account of the Samaritans is given by Sir John Maundevill, in his " Voiage and
Travaile," written in the fourteenth centui-y. lie speaks particularly of their belief in only one God ;
of their holding the Bible, " after the letter, and using the Psautere as the Jewes doe ; of their
regarding themselves as the right sons of God, and being liis best beloved among all other folk ; and
of their believing that to them belongeth the heritage which he has appointed for his beloved
children." He also mentions their difference of dress, and their red turbans. C. ix. p. 109.

t Jlemoire, p. 37.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. jjy

priest's letter, we learn that the Samaritans retain in all its strictness, the beUef in
only one God, to whom alone they render divine worship. The reports which had
been spread accusing them of having a dove on their altar, or on the curtains or
cover of the Law, and to which they were said to bow, are indignantly confuted ■
and the priest demands, how it is possible we should admit such an abomination
into the house of God ?

To the inquiry which M. de Sacy made respecting then- continued use of sacrifices
he received for answer, that that part of their worship had, with one exception
ceased, since the end of the time of grace, and the disappearance of the Tabernacle.
It is added, that their pontiffs, the priests of the family of Aaron, have substituted
for the oblation of sacrifices the recital of certain prayers, which they have com-
posed for the use of the faithfiil, and to enable them to honour God, and pray
rightly for mercy, and the pardon of their sins. But the sacrifice of the Passover is
still observed with all its rites. It can only be legitimately offered on Mount
Gerizim ; but about twenty-five years before the period when Salameh's letter was
written, the Samaritans were prevented ft-om ascending this mountain, and they have
since then offered the sacrifice within the city, encouraging themselves with the
belief, that it forms a part of the holy place. In the act of kiUing the victim they
turn themselves towards the moimtain. They do the same in their solemn prayers,
because that mountain, they say, is the house of the Almighty, the tabernacle of His
angels, the place of the presence of His majesty, and the place appointed for sacrifices.
To the question, whether the paschal lamb must be of any particular kind no
Answer was given ; but to that respecting the bitter herbs eaten with it, Salameh
repUed, that the Samaritans eat it with bitter herbs and unleavened bread.

Many learned men, says M. de Sacy, have supposed that the Samaritans do not
believe in angels, or in a resurrection, aud eternal rewards and punishment. He
therefore, put direct questions on these subjects. On the first, Salameh answers
We believe in the holy angels, which are in heaven." On the latter, he says
" With regard to that wliich you observe in relation to the dead, that they will arise
at the day of judgment, we acknowledge the truth of this doctrine." This is
followed by a quotation fi-om one of their prayers, and by passages from the Sono- of
Moses ; the only testimony, it is observed, which, receiWng the Pentateuch, and not
the other Scriptures, they could adduce in illustration of their behef

The inquiries which M. de Sacy made as to their notions of the Messiah were
very imperfectly satisfied. They appear to have confounded the Shiloh promised
as a conqueror and deliverer, with some enemy of their race. Some have supposed
that Solomon, others that Christ was pointed at, in their allusions to this subject ;
but they evidently share with the Jews the darkest of prejudices in reference to the
Saviour of the human race.*

* Memoires sur I'Etat actuel des Samaritains.

118 THE CHRISTIAN IN PAT.ESTINK.

Of their notions respecting the law written in their own pecnhar character, we
have already spoken. Some other points of less importance are noticed in the
Memoir drawn up by M. de Sacy. Thus, in respect to marriage, they appear to be
very doubtful as to the lawfulness of polygamy. Yielding to the corrupt influences
o? their age and country, they permit a man to marry two wives in the first
instance ; but if either of these wives die, the widower must remain for the rest of
his hfe contented with the one left, unless she also die, when he is again permitted
to make a double marriage.* A peculiar sacredness is considered to pertain to
their houses and synagogues. The latter retain more of the character of the
ancient tabernacle than the Jews allow to their synagogues. This, perhaps, may be
accounted for partly by the circumstance above alluded to, the proximity of the
citj' of the Samaritans to Mount Gerizim ; and still more by the belief prevaihng
among them, that their priests are regularly descended from the family of Aaron.

When, in the correspondence last alluded to, they were informed that none of
their brethren now existed in any European country, they replied that such could
not be the case ; for that a hundred years back they had received information of
many of their race and communion dwelling in a land which they named Askenaz,
supposed to be Genoa, or some part of Germany. There is something sad and
affecting in the passionate desire of this littlere mnant of a once mighty people to
prove themselves not alone in the world. Happy would it be for them were the
light to dawn upon their darkness, and lead them to the true Israel of God !

While Napoli, Nablouse, or Sichem, is itself thus interesting as reminding us of
the times when it was the capital t of a still powerful, though degenerate people,
the mind contemplates with a far deeper interest, the pastoral scenes by which it is
surrounded, and over which the spirit of old tradition broods with so holy a delight.
It was in its green valleys, on the sunny slopes of its hills, and along its fertile
plains, that the fathers of God's chosen people fed their flocks, | Fountains and
rivulets without number irrigate this verdant tract of land ; and it was this, it is said,
which Jacob rejoiced, with his last blessing, to bestow upon Joseph, when after assming
him that God would bring him back to the land of his fathers, he added : " I give
thee a portion above thy brethren ; which I took out of the hand of the Amorite with
my sword and with my bow."§ And here repose the remains of Joseph, the greatest of
the characters in the ancient history of the world, when compared with kings and
statesmen. His sepulchre is in the narrow valley, between Gerizim and Ebal, just
outside the city, and occupying a portion of the ground purchased by Jacob of
Hamor, the father of Shechem. II A small mosque points out the spot, venerated,
it is said, with equal ai'dour by Jews, Samaritans, Mussulmans, and Christians.1I

* Memoires, p. 57.

f This it became after tlie fall of Samaria. The present town is generally believed to occupy a
position further westward in the valley than tha ancient Israelitish city. Schubert, Reise in das
Morgenland, b. iii. p. 142.

J Gen. xxxvii. 12. § Gen. xlviii. 21, 22. Gen. xxxiii. 19. H Maundrell, Elliott.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. HQ

Other tombs are also pointed out to the devout notice of the pilgrim. Eleazar the
son of Aaron, and Joshua, that mightiest, hohest, and most victorious of captains,
were here gathered to their fathers; and as the mind contemplates their last restin-'-
place, it is stirred with a profound feeling of the past ; of the ages in which
the instruments of divine power had more of the lustre about them of a divine
heroism.

Jacob's well is on the road to Jerusalem, about twenty minutes distance from
the town, at the extremity of the valley of Shechem. Maundrell says : " If it
should be questioned whether this be the very well which it is represented to be,
seeing it may be suspected to stand too remote from Sychar for women to come so
far to draw water, it is answered, that probably the city extended further this way
in former times than it does now, as may be conjectured from some pieces of a very
thick wall, still to be seen not far from hence. Over the well there stood formerly a
lai-ge church, erected by that great and devout patroness of the Holy Land, the
Empress Helena. But of this the voracity of time, assisted by the hands of the
Turks, has left nothing but a few foundations remaining.* The well is covered at
present with an old stone vault, into which you are let down through a very
strait hole ; and then removing a broad flat stone, you discover the mouth of the
well itself. It is dug in a firm rock, and is about three yards in diameter, and
thirty -five in depth ; five of which we found full of water. This confutes a storj'
commonly told to travellers, who do not take the pains to examine the well, namely,
that it is dry all the year round, except on the anniversary of that day on which our
blessed Saviour sat upon it, when it bubbles up with abundance of water."

Pietro della Valle, who visited the spot above eighty years before Maundrell,t
describes the well as almost entirely hidden and buried by the rubbish which the
people of the neighbom-hood had thrown over it, to prevent their cattle from falling
in. I Mr. Elliott found it dry, and partially choked with the ruins of the building
said to have been built by Heleua. He adds his reasons for beUeving it to be the
well by which our Lord conversed with the woman of Samaria. " First," he says,
"springs supplied by mountain-streams generally find their exit in a valley.
Secondly, our Lord was travelling from the holy city into Galilee, when he halted to
refi-esh himself, ani must necessarily have passed this way. And, thirdly, the
scene of his conversation with the woman is placed near Sychar, which, there is
little doubt, stood on the hill, directly above the reputed well."§ Dr. Clarke says,
eloquently, " The spot is so distinctly marked by the evangelist, and so little liable

• The venerable Bede describes the well .as at that time within a church built in the form of a
cross ; and in the year 740, Bishop Willibald performed his devotions in the sacred edifice. Brocardns
in 28.3, mentions the fountain, but not the church. Quaresmius, Historica Elucidatio, t. ii. lib. vii. c v.

t Journey, p. 61. * Viaggi. b. ii. p. 325.

§ Travels, vol. ii. p. 330. Those who are interested in the early history of the church, will feel an
additional degree of veneration for Sichem, arising from the fact that it was the birth-place of the ve-
nerable Justin Martyr.

120 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

to uncertainty from the circumstance of the well itself, and the features of the
country, that if no tradition existed for its identity, the site of it could hardly be
mistaken. Perhaps no Christian scholar ever attentively read the fourth chapter of
St. John without being struck with the numerous internal evidences of truth which
crowd upon the mind in its perusal. Within so small a compass it is impossible to
find in other writings so many sources of reflection and of interest. Independently
of its importance as a theological document, it concentrates so much infoi-mation,
that a volume might be filled with the illustration which it reflects on the history
of the Jews, and on the geography of their country. The journey of our Lord from
Judaea into Galilee ; the cause of it ; his passage through the territory of Samaria ;
his approach to the metropolis of this country ; its name ; his arrival at the Amorite
field, which terminates the narrow valley of Sichem ; the ancient custom of halting
at a well ; the female employment of drawing water ; the disciples sent into the city
for food, by which its situation out of the town is obviously impUed ; the question
of the woman, referring to existing prejudices which separated the Jews from the
Samaritans ; the depth of the well ; the oriental allusion contained in the expression,
living water ; the history of the well, and the customs thereby illustrated ; and the
worship upon Mount Gerizim ; all occur within the space of twenty verses."*

But affecting as are the associations connected with the view of Sichem, there is
one feeling which they excite more powerful than all the rest. Neither the dispen-
sations of Providence, nor the calls of Divine love, have availed to move the proud
hearts of the people inhabiting that city set upon a hill. They are a monument and
a spectacle to the world of error the most unteachable ; of misfortunes the most
aflflicting. From age to age their numbers have been decreasing ; like the soil on
the ouce beautiful terraces which the storms of successive ages have worn away,
leaving but the bare rock, the families of Israel have been swept along by the flood
of time, or the desolating stream of war and revolution. There was nothing to build
them up ; and all that is left of them is but the remnant which seems, like Ebal
or Gerizim, only spared to mark a particular province in the Divine dispensations.
Through this, they have a root and foundations which no stonn can shake ; and as
the bare rock, with the dews of heavenly blessing upon it, may once more rejoice in
beauty, so may this now despised race again prove their title to reverence as a part
of God's elect people, and take their station among the hosts of Israel.

* Travels, vol. il. p. 516. Schubert also very beautifully describes the whole of the scenerv abont
Sithem. Reise in das Murgenland, b. iii. p. 152.

FROM SAMARIA TO JERUSALEM.

The Chevalier d'Arvieux remarlcs, in the account of his journey through Samaria,*
that he was stnick mth the apparently defenceless state of the towns and villages.
Upon inquirj-, however, he found that they were not so absolutely without protection
as he had imagined. Not being able to environ themselves by walls and fortifications,
they had dug broad, deep trenches in every direction by which the marauding
Arabs were likely to approach them. Over these trenches the_y had laid a light
covering of reeds and straw, upon which they carefully strewed a thin covering of
garden-mould, and seeds of the wild flowers common to the fields and valleys of the
neighbourhood. The position of these trenches, or the narrow path by which they
might here and there be passed in safety, was carefiilly concealed fi'om all strangers.
ft was a very perilous attempt, therefore, to approach one of the apparently unpro-
tected little villages which lay embosomed among these romantic mountains. The
most skiUU horseman finding the ground giving way beneath him, in vain endeavoiu"ed
to recover his path, and both horse and rider lay helpless in the ditch.

But this simple mode of defence has long proved of no avaU against the various
invaders of the unhappy people. While a traveller was examining, some few years
back, the ruins of Sebaste, one of the crowd asked him if many Franks would come
to see these ruins ; " Yes," he answered, jestingly ; " so many, that if each were to
take a stone, there would be none left." " The more the better," was the rejoinder
on the part of the native : and such, it is said, was the feeling generally pervading
the population of the country.

The road from Sichem to Jerusalem passes through the valley formed by Mount
Gerizim and Mount Ebal, names so remarkably connected with the early history of
Israel. " It shall come to pass, when the Lord thy God hath brought thee into the
land whither thou goest to possess it, that thou shall put the hlesning upon Mount
Gerizim, and the curse upon Ebal."t And, " It shall be when ye be gone over
Jordan, that ye shall set up these stones, which I command you this day, in Mount
Ebal, and thou shall plaster them with plaster. And there thou shall build an
ahar unto the Lord thy God; an altar of stones." And fmlher: "These shall
stand upon Mount Gerizim to bless the people:" "and these shall stand upon
Mount Ebal to curse."t Joshua also " built an altar unto the Lord God of Israel in

• Memoires, t. ii. + Deut. xi. 29. J Deut.xxvii. 4— 13.

2 I

]22 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

Mount Ebal :" " an altar of whole stones, over which no man had lift up any iron ;
and they offered thereon burnt offerings unto the Lord, and sacrificed peace-
offerings." On the stones thus set up, a copy of the law was inscribed. " And all
Israel, and their elders and oflacers, and tlieir judges, stood on this side the ark,
and on that side, before the priests the Levites, which bare the ark of the covenant
of the Lord, as well the stranger, as he that was bom among them ; half of them over
against Mount Gerizim, and half of them over against Mount Ebal." *

How awful is the present solitude of these venerable mountains, compared with
the scene which they exhibited when thus crowded with the countless throngs of
Israel ! how terrible the changes which have befallen that people since the time
when, with such solemn pomp, they beheld the ark of the Lord passing through
their ranks ; and heard those blessings and curses pronounced which were to deter-
mine not only their own fate, but that of their most distant posterity !

Travellers agree in describing the valley, and the plain into which it opens, as
singularly fertile. Maundrell mentions having passed two villages on the right
hand, in his way to a place which he calls Kane Leban, four hours distant from
Nablouse. The khan stands on the eastern side of a delicious valley, and opposite
to it is the village of Leban, supposed to be the Lebonah of Scripture.f From this
place the road becomes more mountainous and rocky ; and at the end of about two
hours the traveller reaches the ruins of a village and monastery, which tradition
speaks of as marking the spot where Jacob rested, and " where he had his stony
couch made easy by that beatifying vision of God, and of the angels ascending and
descending on a ladder reaching from earth to heaven." %

Leban marks the boundary between Samaria and Judaea; and the country
between this place and the supposed site of Bethel offers remarkable proofs of the
natural capabilities of the country. From a spot surmounted by ruins, and thence
called Attel, or " the Heap," the entire slopes of the hills, for a distanc^e of ten hours,
are or have been laid out in teiTaces from the base to the summit. Few of them
are properly kept up ; but those which are, indicate plainly what inexhaustible re-
sources the people might derive from the land if they tended it with proper care, and
under the blessing of Heaven. The rock, according to Mr. Elliott, is of a kind
easily converted into soil ; which being arrested by the terraces, constitutes long
naiTow gardens, the produce of which, exposed to the genial waimth of the sun, is
rapidly matured, and an abundant increase obtained. " ^Mien the country," he adds,
" was filled, as formerly, with an overflowing population, every terrace doubtless
was cultivated, and in their hills the countless hosts of Israel found both security
from invasion, and the means of support; but when the land fell under the

* Joshua, viii. 30 — 3.S. Eusebius, contrary to the received opinion, asserted that Ebal and Geriziic
are not near Sichem. Quaresiiiius, t. ii. lib.vii. c. Wii.

t Judges xxi. 19. + Maundrell, v. 6:!.

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THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 123

curse of the Almighty, the terraces became dilapidated, and the soil gradually
formed on the slopes was washed down by the first abundant rain, so that the hills
once clothed with vineyards, fig-trees, and olives, then ceased to present to the
eye anything but their own arid rocks."* Almost the same account is given by the
earlier travellers. The most striking contrast is also represented as existing between
the rich country about Sichcm, described by some writers as the garden, the para-
dise of the land, and the neglected hills and valleys of Jndsea.

Between Leban and Bethel is the village of Sindschil, inhabited only by Turks
and Arabs. The German traveller, Schubert, describes the situation of this remote
spot as presenting the most enchanting scenery.f Being hospitably allowed to
make his bed for the night in the fore-court of the mosque, he contemplated, by the
last rays of the evening sun, the magnificent amphitheatre of mountains which rose
towering in the distance, their awful subhmity only softened by the lovely valleys
which here and there penetrate their depths. In the north-west, embosomed
among the hills, lay Silun, the Silo of Scripture ; and whose name and situation
alike betoken peace. Here, fi'om the time of Joshua to that of Samuel, the
tabernacle remained fixed, and Israel assembled to worship before the Lord ; and
here was the scene of that sweetest of the chapters of history, in which the voice of
God is described as working its miracles on the almost infant heart. J

Silo, according to the old geographer, Adrichomius, is the loftiest mountain in
the circuit of Jerusalem. It was sunnounted by a city of the same name ; and
there might still be seen, in his time, the ruins of an ancient altar. Another old
writer says, that on leaving Michmas, the traveller descends into a valley, in which
there is a large caravansary. Just outside the door of this building is a fountain of
living water, affording comfort and refreshment to the pilgiims who pass that way.
To the right of this, and not far distant, is Silo, where, he adds, lay the ruins of a
church and altar. §

Whether so much credit is due to the traditions which point out this spot as the
ancient Silo, is fairly questioned by modem writers. Dr. Robinson, who visited the
village of Seilun, speaks with great confidence of its being the Shiloh of Scripture.
His guide had spoken of this place as lying to the north-east of Sindschil, or
Sinjil, and stated that there was a saying among his people, that if the Franks were
to visit it, they would deem it of such importance as not to leave it in less than a
day. "The proofs," he adds, "that SeOdn is actually the site of the ancient
Shiloh, lie within a very small compass ; and both the name and position are
sufficiently decisive. The full form of the Hebrew name was appai-ently Shilon, as
we find it in the Gentile noun Shilonite ; and Josephus writes it also both Silo and
Siloun." In support of this opinion, we have the passage in the book of Judges, in

• Travels, vol. u. p. 409. f Schubert, Reise in das Morgenland, b. iii. p. 130.

X 1 Sam. iii. /". g Quaresmius, t. ii. lib vii. c. iv. p. 797.

124 THE CHRISTIAN IX PALESTINE.

which Shiloh is said to be " on the north side of Bethel, on the east side of the
highway that goeth up from Bethel to Shechem, and on the south of Lebonah ;"* a
description which closely answers to the present site of Seiliin.

Anata, or Anathoth, the birth-place of the prophet Jeremiah, is found among the
mountains about four leagues from Jerusalem. Once celebrated as a city of refuge,
and a place of some strength, it is now a poor \'illage, but still enjoys some of the
advantages attending its situation in the midst of a tolerably fertile district.
Maundrell and other writers speak of the ruins of several towns or villages, which
they passed in the direct road from Samaria to Jerusalem. Not even a conjecture
is ventured as to the names or history of these places, with the exception of the few
to which tradition has assigned a doubtfril species of new existence. But there is
an historical value in the scattered remains of the once proud city, defying, with its
towers and bastions, the hosts of the enemy ; in those of the once happy village
surrounded by its corn-fields, its oUve-groves, and vineyards. As we contemplate
these relics of the past, we feel what countless sorrows must have been suffered by
the multitudes who took no part in the struggle of contending powers ; who had no
knowledge even of the great question at issue ; of the nature of the antagonism
characterizing the conflicting principles of their civihzation and their religion. It is
natural for travellers to confine their attention to the spots on which they can
discover traces of ancient grandeur; or to which history has given an especial
interest ; but the ruin of nameless multitudes ; the scattered remains of cities which
were too happy, too secure, to be much noticed ; these are the things which most
deeply impress a really thoughtful mind with sad convictions of the power of time
and change ; of the helplessness of the human race, when placed in opposition to
that power, except it can bring to its aid the blessing and the grace of Heaven.

From the village of Suidschil, or Sinjil, the road leads over a rocky precipice to
Beer. This is said to occupy the site of the ancient Michmas.f Its situation, on
the southern slope of a hill, gives it a pleasant aspect ; and a copious fountain
imgates the valley below. The existence of a ruined church on the mountain has
encouraged the belief that it was here the mother of our Lord first discovered his
absence from the company, on their return from Jerusalem. On one of the
neighbouring heights stood the city of Gibeon ; for some time the consecrated
city of the covenant ; and the place in which King Solomon offered up his noble
prayer, not for riches, or length of days, but for wisdom. Another celebrated site
is also shown at no great distance from Beer, to the south-west. This is the
Ramali of Samuel. Here there is a mosque, said to inclose the tomb of the
venerable prophet. " It is covered," says Mr. EUiott, " with a coffin, according to
the Mahommedan custom, and thei'e is little doubt that the holy man was born,
died, and was buried on this mount, which for three thousand years has retained
his name." The significant appellation of Rama was, in old times, Ramathaiin

* Cliap. xxi. 1!). t Oi- Beeroth, Schubert, Reise in dans Jforgenland, li. iii. p. IQo.

v..

■s

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THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 155

Sophim, " the heights of the lookers-out ; " this being the most favourable point,
among the mountains of Ephraim, for observing the movements of an enemy. And
here it was that the prophet judged Israel with so righteous a rule ; here it was that
he erected an altar unto the Lord ; that the people gathered around liim when they
desu-ed a king to rule over them ; and that Saul was so wonderfully brought to the
prophet, when the time arrived for his exaltation to the throne of Israel*

The view from the mountain is said to be noble and extensive. To the north,
close at its base, is Jib, the Gibeah of Saul. In the north-west, under a chain of
low hills bounding the vale of Sharon, is Bother, or Hethoron ; and beyond the vale,
on the sea-coast, stands Jaffa, the ancient Joppa. In the middle of the plain, due
west, is the representative of Arimathsea. In the south-west is seen Modin, the
burial-p ace of the Maccabees ; towards the east, is the site of the ancient Anatlioth,
the birth-place of Jeremiah ; and, crowning the landscape with its sacred interest,
in the south-east, Mount Olivet intimates the vicinity of the holy city.f

A controvers}' was commenced in very early times, respecting the identitv of the
site, commonly pointed out as that of Bethel, with the actual position of the ancient
city. It has been a favourite notion of the Jews, that it was on Mount Moriah
Jacob enjoyed the sublime vision which induced him to call the place where he
passed that memorable night, the house of God, or Bethel. This opinion, however,
has been wholly rejected by Christian commentators ; it being expressly stated in
Scripture, that the neighbourhood of Luz was the scene of Jacob's vision. St.
Jerome and Eusebius affinn that Bethel was the ancient city here mentioned ; and
describe it as formerly belonging to the tribe of Benjamin, being situated on the
right hand of the road from Jerusalem to Neapohs, or Sichem, and near the twelfth
milestone. But it is shown that Luz was in the tribe of Ephraim ; and Quaresmius
having settled this point observes, that while it is uncertain whether Bethel was on
the right or l(;ft side of the road, whether it was near to, or far from Sichem, it is
evident, that it was between the latter city and Shiloh.l Reland obser%-es that
Bethel was in the tribe of Ephraim, but on the confines of Benjamin ; and this
statement he illustrates by several quotations from Josephus. The Itinerary of
Jerusalem describes it as lying on the left-hand from Sichem to that city. Some
authors also state, that the stone which the patriarch made his pillow, was placed
in the second temple, and formed the support of the aik. After the destruction of
the city, the Jews, it is reported, still fondly wept around this stone, which the
Mohammedans, with no less veneration, placed as a sacred reUc in their mosque.§

.According to Dr. Robinson, the site of Bethel is found in the present village of
Beitin. The ruins in the immediate neighbourhood of this place occupy a space of
three or four acres, on the summit of a hill. They consist of the remains of a

* Quaresmius, t. ii. lib. vi. e. v. p. 727. t Travels, vol. ii. p. 413.

: Elucidaiio Tem-c Sauctae, lib. vii. c. iii. § Palsestina, t. ii. lib. iii. p. C37.

'i E

126 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

square tower, and of several churches. These relics betoken the former existence
on this spot of some populous and important town. But all now is solitude.
Two hving springs of water, and a verdant grass-plat supply the place of the
busy mart. " Here," says Dr. Robinson, " we spread our carpets on the grass for
breakfast, by the side of these desolations of ages. A few Arabs, probably from
some neighbouring village, had pitched their tents here for the summer, to watch
their flocks and fields of grain : and they were the only inhabitants. From them
we obtained milk and butter of excellent quality, and such as might have done
honoiu- to the days when the flocks of Abraham and Jacob were pastured on these
liills."

Proceeding along the direct road to the venerable capital, the traveller at length
reaches the elevated ground known by the significant appellation of Scopus, or the
watch-tower. It was from a spot hke this that the destined conqueror of Jerusalem
beheld, with such mingled awe and wonder, its massive walls ; its mighty towers and
bulwarks ; and, above all, its temple, resplendent still with an almost supernatural
glory. Full of beauty and pathos was the sentiment which both history and poetry
ascribe to the proud Roman as he contemplated the ruin which his own arm was
destined to inflict.

" How boldly doth it front vis ! how majestically !

Like a luxurious vineyard, the hill side

Is hung with marble fabrics, line o'er line,

Terrace o'er terrace, nearer still, and nearer,

To the blue heavens. Here bright and sumptuous palaces,

With cool and verdant gardens interspers'd ;

Here towers of war that frown in massy strength.

While over .all hangs the rich purple eve,

As conscious of its being her Last fareweU

Of light and glory to that fated city.

And as our clouds of battle, dust and snioko

Are molted into air, behold the Temple,

In undisturb'd and lone serenity.

Finding itself a solemn sanctuary

In the profound of heaven ! It stands before us,

A mount of snow fretted with golden pinnacles ;

The very sua, as though he worshipped there,

Lingers upon the gilded cedar roofs ;

And down the long and branching porticos,
. On every flowery-sculptured capital,

Glitters the homage of his parting beams.

By Hercules ! the sight might almost win

The offended majesty of Rome to mercy." *

Travellers of all ages and nations have agreed in describing the emotions with
which they first beheld Jerusalem as characterized by profoinid awe; and cold

* Milman's Fall of Jerusalem, p. 7.

THK CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 127

indeed must be the heart, ill-informed the mind, which the contemplation of such
a city could fail to excite or elevate. The history of every other place sinks into
insignificance when compared with that of Jerusalem. There the glory of a
kingdom was consecrated, in the growth and fall of which we see, as on a dial-
plate, the hours marked at which providence completed the several parts of its
most important designs.

Nor is it from the past only that Jerusalem derives its awfid and pathetic grandeur.
Wliile other nations and their cities appeal to the page of history, and must
depend upon what is written there for the amount of reverence which we render
them, God's ancient people and Jerusalem can point to a scroll far more sublime
than any record of history ; they can appeal to the divine page of prophecy, and
show that there their power, and glory, and beauty are recognized as having as real
an existence in the ages to come as in those which are past. It is this, its wondrous
destiny connecting its name with all that is yet to come, which gives to Jerusalem,
poor and afflicted as it is, so solemn an aspect. He who contemplates it from the
neighbouring heights, and feels the power of the dispensations which were cradled in
its sanctuary, seems still to behold Jerusalem as invested with unearthly pomp. But
when the vision of the future rises before him, and the Jerusalem, which once was in
bondage with her children, only passes away, that the new Jerusalem may occupy
its place with heavenly splendours, his soul is impressed with a feeling of admira-
tion which well repays him for all the toils and difficulties of his pilgrimage.

JERUSALEM.— THE HOLY SEPULCHRE.

Jerusalem presents at a distance an appearance more in accordance with its
ancient glory, than its present poverty and debasement. Its walls and gates still
betoken the warlike strength of other days; and when the e^enijig sun sheds its
purple glory on the various domes and towers which crowd uiaon the scene, the
stranger is disposed to question whether he can really be contemplating the captive,
desolate city, whose fate he has been so prepared to moum. But it is after having
iamihaiized ourselves with the more remarkable objects within tlie city, that we
shall be best able to contemplate, in imagination, from some one or other of the
neighbouiing heights, this monument of God's deahngs with his people ; this
hieroglyphic inscription on the rock of ages which would defy the most ingenious of
interpreters, but lor the key to its meaning existing in the Bible.

The great northern road fiom Sichem to Jerusalem tenninates at the gate of
Damascus, known in Arabic by an appellation signifying "the Gate of the Pil-
grims;" and called, at different times, "Abraham's Gate," "the Gate of the
Column," and, " the Gate of the Beloved." Passing through this celebrated portal,
a beautiful specimen of Saracenic architectm-e, the traveller finds himself within the
walls of the holy city, the object, probably, of a pilgrimage commenced with anardom*
to which the sentiments gi^■ing birth to other undertakings, however important, bear
not the remotest resemblance.

It is interesting, however, to observe the various feelings with which different
strangers have traversed, for the first time, the streets of Jerusalem, One traveller
speaks of his having experienced a sort of collapse, from the over-strained emotions
with wliich he had looked forward to the realization of his wishes. Dr. Robinson
had a happier sense of the fulfilment of his prayers. " The feelings," he says, " of a
Christian traveller on approaching Jerusalem, can be better conceived than de-
scribed. Mine were strongly excited. From the earliest childhood, I had read of and
studied the localities of this sacred spot; now I beheld them with my own eyes ; and
they all seemed famihar to me, as if the realization of a former di'cam. I seemed to
be again among cherished scenes of childhood, long unvisited, indeed, but dis-
tinctly recollected ; and it was almost a painful inteiTuption when my companion,
who had beevi here before, began to point out, and name, the various objects in
view."

Another writer, long familiar with Jerusalem, says, " The Christian who approaches

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 129

Jerusalem for the first time will probably be disappointed to find that his emotiong,
on the first sight of a city associated in his mind from his earliest infancy with all
that is most sacred, are so much less intense than he imagined possible, when he
thought on them at a distance. The truth is, the events transacted here are so great
in every view, that the mind cannot at once grasp them, but is, as it were, stupified
by the eflfort. Tt takes time to realize the truth, that this is the home of Scripture
history, the cradle of the Christian chiu-ch. But the feeling of attachment to the
holy city and its sacred localities will soon be found, and will be deepened by
time to a calm satisfaction, a peaceful resting in it as the home of one's affections,
which no other spot on earth can impart. For there is a halo about Jerusalem, an
atmosphere which one drinks in, not only on the mountains around, but even amid
its crumbling ruins, which has an untold charm ; and he who shall have resided
there for months or years, and has known what it is to suffer in body and in mind,
amid the scenes of His sufferings, such an one alone can appreciate the privilege
of a residence in Jerusalem."*

But notwithstanding the interest with which travellers in general have sought
the holy city, their manner of describing its locaUties, and the venerable objects
which it contains, is almost as various as if they contemplated it firom the different
elevations of a different faith. From the language employed and the temper
displayed, some would seem to have visited it with no other desire than that of
exercising a vain ingenuity, or showing their disregard for the traditions of anti-
quity; others have yielded their feelings and their judgment imphcitly to the
current tales of a superstitious people ; and some have devoted themselves, almost
to weariness, to the unprofitable task of endeavoming to settle the disputes which
have arisen between these very opposite classes of inquirers. It is always painful
to find the thoughts disturbed by controversy, when they would fain rest in quiet
contemplation on the objects of reverential regard. In few cases can the truth of
this be felt more keenly than in that of Jenisalem. Uncertainty there is destructive
of associations the most treasured, the most desired.

There is, however, little difficulty in accounting for the angry tone in which some
of the writers most entitled to our esteem have spoken of long-established traditions.
These popular stories are often in such violent opposition to geography and history,
that no traveller commonly well informed on the subject can listen to them without
mingled surprise and vexation. But the writers alluded to have, in many cases,
allowed the pride of learning, or ingenious observation, to carry them too far.
They have overlooked or despised probabilities, because they were occasionally
successful in detecting some palpable falsehood.

The obsen^ations of Chateaubriand on this subject are deserving of great atten-
tion. " The ancient travellers," he says, " were extremely fortunate. They weie

* WiUianis. The Holy City, part iu 429.

130 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

not obliged to enter into all these critical disquisitions. In the first place, they
found their readers impressed with a religion which never contends against truth.
And, secondly, it was a prevailing conviction, that the only way of seeing a country
as it is, is to see it with all its traditions and recollections. It is, in fact, with the
Bible in his hand, that a traveller ought to visit the Holy Land. If we are deter-
mined to carry with us a spirit of cavil and contradiction, Judaea is not worth our
o-oing so far to examine it. What should we say to a man who, in traversing
Greece and Italy, should think of nothing but contradicting Homer and Virgil ?
Such, however, is the course adopted by modem travellers ; eHdently the effect of
vanity, which would excite in us a high idea of our own abihties, and, at the same
time, fill us with disdain for those of other people."

Schubert, the German traveller has, excellently described his impressions on the
first morning after his arrival in Jerusalem. He had taken up his lodging in the
Latin Convent of St. Salvator, and the first gleam of dawn was only struggUng in
the sky when he arose firom his couch, and ascended the flat roof of the monastery.
The moon had not yet set, and the ])ale light of the early morning minghng with its
beams, gave a mild and beautiful distinctness to the surrounding objects. " It has
always been one of my greatest pleasiures m travelling," says this interesting waiter,
" to see the day break in a strange land, and a strange city. It seems to wake as
out of the thoughts which formed the dream of yesterday, and the day before ; and
it bears, as it were, the brightness of those thoughts upon its brow But where
could the morning-dream, connecting itself with the past, be more impressive or
exciting, than when tabernacled in the brightness of the dawn, sweeping over the
Mount of Olives, the Vale of Gethsemane : over Moriah and Golgotha ? " *

Almost everything was still strange and new to him ; but as he looked around,
his eyes rested, as if long familiar with those sacred objects, on the Mount of Olives,
and the Church of the Ascension, in the east. To the south-east, he could trace
the deep valley of the Kidron, in tlie direction of the Dead Sea ; and the faint out-
line of the heights belonging to the mountains of Pisgah. On the south was the
hilly country of Hebron ; and in the opposite direction, the road to Ramla and
Joppa on the left, and that to Nazareth and Damascus on the right. As the
light of the morning increased, the Mosque of Omar, occupying the site of the
Temple, rose proudly among the surrounding buildings ; and nearer at hand, tlie
Church of the Holy Sepulchre.

The impressions made on the mind by a long study of sacred history, or even by
a contemplation of Jerusalem in the hour of deep repose, as above described,
receive a sort of rude shock when the stranger, on first treading its streets, finds
himself surrounded by a noisy, busy throng, engaged, like all the rest of the world,
in buying and selling, and the other every-day occupations of life. Such was the

• Roise in das Morgenland, h. ii. s. 449,

-,1

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. I3J

uneasy, startling sensation produced on Schubert's mind, by the contrast between
his morning contemplation, and the actual appearance of Jerusalem, that he felt he
says, like a child, who having just lost his father, and being full of sorrow, can hear
from a neighbouring house, the bustle of life, the rude and jesting talk of the day.

Among the chief objects of attraction to the pilgrim, of whatever age or country,
the Church of the Holy Sepulchre has ever been the foremost. A vast body of evi-
dence, both historical and traditional, exists to prove that the spot on which this
edifice stands is really that which was consecrated by the burial of our Lord. The
main argument of those sceptical inquirers, who would set aside the common beUef
of so many generations of pilgrims, rests on the circumstance, that both Golgotha
and the place where the body of our Lord was entombed were without the walls of
the city. But the Church of the Holy Sepulchre is within the walls ; and it is, there-
fore, triumphantly asked, how can any faith be given to the ordinary tradition ?
Dr. Clarke was one of the first of modem travellers to give weight to this and
similar objections. But this amiable writer often allowed himself to be carried
away by the indignation which he felt at the absurdities of monkish tales. He
appears to have forgotten, on many occasions, that where there is much error and
absurdity, there may stiU be something which is true ; that the accumulation of
superstitious traditions does not necessarily imply the error of an older and more
venerable belief.

The best abstract of the arguments on both sides which we have met with, is
tliat given by Mr. Elliott. " If there be a difficulty," he says, " in beheving the
identity of the reputed, and the real site, some thinking minds find it equally
difficult to disbelieve. On the one hand, it is urged that since the crucifixion the
site of the city itself is altered, and the clue lost ; but that, at any rate, the real
sepulchre was outside the walls, which the pretended one never could have been;
and that it was an excavation in a rock, not a tomb above ground. To these
objections it is answered, first, that the testimony of Eusebius, Lactantius, Sozo-
men, Jerome, Nicephorus, Cyril, Theodoret, and other early writers, coinciaes with
the tradition. Secondly, that Adrian, who reigned in the beginning of the second
century, erected a statue of Jupiter on the site of the holy sepulchre, and another
of Venus on Calvary, in order to defile those places made sacred by Christians
that the statues existed till the days of Constantino, whose mother, Helena, substi-
tuted for that of Jupiter, a church, which, though subsequently destroyed, was
rebuilt within forty years, and was never doubted to have stood on the foundations
of the present structure Thirdly, that it is easy to account for what was once ' a
cave in a rock'now appearing on the surface ; for, as related by Gibbon, Hakim,
the third of the Fatimite Caliphs, who styled himself 'the visible image of the Most
High,' regarding Christ as a rival, took great pains to destroy the original sepul-
chre, obliterating the ' cave in the rock,' which property constituted it ; and this
could only have been done by cutting away the suriounding mass. Tlie advocates

182 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

of the authenticity of the tradition further urge, that the trace, if lost, must have
been lost during the sixty years which intervened between the destruction of the
city by Titus and the erection of Adrian's statue ; which is highly improbable,
since the sepulchre was pre-eminently venerated and much resorted to ; a fact
established by the desire of the emperor to desecrate it."

These facts can scarcely be set aside by the scoff of the sceptic, or the doubts of
the too timid inquirer. But it is added, " When the circumstances of the early
Christians are considered ; the frequent cavils of the Jews to disprove the Messiah's
resurrection, and the pertinacity with which his disciples maintained it; their
hopes of future happiness based thereon ; their boldness, even to death, and their
zeal, rising superior to aU worldly considerations, it seems hardly possible that
within the period of a single generation — the scene of that great event should be
forgotten ; that men who endangered life to attest the resuiTection of their
Lord, honouring above every other the spot where it occurred, and having that
spot within their reach, should have suffered its identity to become a matter of
doubt."

To the argument derived, as mentioned above, from the position of the sepulchre ;
it is answered, " The force of this presumptial evidence is not destroyed by the
objection, that consistently with the topographical description of ancient Jerusalem
by Josephus, the reputed sepulchre could not have been, as Christ's was known to
be, without the walls ; for so many unsuccessfiil efforts have been made to reconcile
that description with existing appearances, that they must now be regarded as irre-
concilable. The conclusion seems inevitable, that Josephus is not perfectly
con-ect, or that he has not been cleai-ly apprehended ; or else that the surface of the
ground has undergone such changes in the course of nearly two thousand years,
that what were small valleys and mounds in liis day, have now ceased to be such ;
and that, consequently, his description cannot be applied to the present face of
natmre." Still further : " The accuracy of the tradition regarding the site of the
crucifixion does not necessarily affect that regarding the holy sepulchre ; and
when it is argued, that the modem Calvary is not sufficiently high to answer our
ideas of a hiU, it may fairly be replied, first, that Scripture nowhere states that
Calvary was a hUl; and, secondly, that the objection is irrelevant, for the
authenticity of the one statement is not necessarily connected with that of the
other. The site of the tomb may be correctly laid do>vn, while that of the cruci-
fixion, at some little distance from it, may now be lost." Helena, anxious to
comprise both spots within the compass of a handsome edifice, and giving too
limited a meaning to the words of St. John,* might have sacrificed truth to ambi-
tion ; and, correctly estimating the site of the sepulchre, have ascribed to Calvary a

* " Now in the place where He was crucified there was a garden ; and in the garden a new sepulchre,
wherein was never man yet laid." John xix. 41.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 133

fictitious existence, where she wished it to be found, namely, in the church of lier
own erection." *

The Litest and most ingenious writer on the other side is Dr. Robinson. t He
gives great weight to the argument respecting the situation of the real sepulchre,
without the walls of the city ; and he details with skilful minuteness the results of
the examination which he personally made, to determine the original extent of
ancient Jerusalem. Summing up the particulars of his topographical inquiry, he
says, " All goes to show that the second wall must have extended further to the
north than the site of the present church. Or, again : if we admit that this wall ran
in a straight course, then the whole of the lower city must have been confined to a
small triangle ; and its breadth between the temple and the site of the sepulchre,
a space of less than a quarter of an English mile, was not equal to that of many
squares in London and New York. Yet we know that this lower city at the time
of the crucifixion was extensive and populous ; three gates led from it to the
temple. And ten years later, Agrippa erected the third wall, far beyond the limits
of the present city, in order to shelter the extensive suburbs, which before were
unprotected. These suburbs could not well have arisen within the short interval of
ten years ; but must aheady have existed before the time of our Lord's crucifixion.
After examining all these circumstances repeatedly upon the spot, and, as I hope,
without prejudice, the minds of both my companion and myself were forced to the
conviction, that the hypothesis which makes the second wall so run as to exclude
the alleged site of the holy sepulchre, is, on topographical grounds, untenable and
impossible. If there was prejudice upon my own mind, it was certainly in favour of
an opposite result ; for I went to Jerusalem strongly prepossessed with the idea that
the alleged site might have lain without the second wall."

To the grand historical argument, the testimony of ancient authors, and the con-
tinued chain of tradition, this able writer answers by suggesting doubts as to the
data upon which the argument is constructed. He even questions whether any
particular veneration was felt for the sepulchre in the apostolic times ; and denies
the truth of the position, that the first Christian churches were without the walls of
the city, and escaped the common destruction when Titus besieged the city. The
argument connected with the erection of heathen temples and idols on the sacred
spot is disposed of hi a similar way; and our author concludes his reasoning by
quoting parallel cases of tradition, especially that which is said to have existed
in ancient times respecting oiu: Lord's ascension fi-om the Mount of Olives, and
which, he says, was endently founded on error. To the question, Where, then, are the
true sites of Golgotha and the sepulchre to be sought ? he answers, that all seaich must
probably prove in vain. " We know nothing more from the Scriptures than that
they were near each other, without the gate, and nigh to the city, in a firequented

* Travels in the Three Great Empires. t Biblical Researches, vol. ii. p. 64.

2 M

184 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

spot. This would favour the conclusion, that the place was probably upon a great
road, leading from one of the gates ; and such a spot woidd only be found upon the
western or northern sides of the city, on the roads leading towaids Joppa or
Damascus."

But, deserving of respect as are the opinions of such a traveller as Dr. Robinson,
some of his arguments are founded on assumptions which it requires no learned
ingenuity to justify oiu- questioning. Thus when he supposes that because no
mention is made by the apostles of their reverence for the grave of our Lord, they
felt no sentiment of this kind, he evidently adopts a very illogical conclusion.
There is so much uncertainty, again, respecting the actual position or extent of
ancient Jerusalem, that it seems, at least, as dangerous to adopt a theory founded
on a modern plan of the city, as to receive a very old and venerable tradition.*

It would be far fiom consistent with the design of this work to enter into the
minute topographical investigations to which the controversy respecting the holy
sepulchre has given birth. The arguments of Dr. Robinson have been ably
examined by a late wiiter,t whose impressions are all on the side of that belief
which would leave us in the quiet enjoyment of our old associations. Having traced
the course of the second wall, he asks, " And where now does it leave the Church of
the Holy Sepulchre ? " To this he answers, " In the angle formed by the first and
second wall, ' nigh unto the city,' and ' without the gate,' probably in ' a place where
there were gardens ;' for the gate of Gennath, (that is, the gate of the gardens,) led
into this quarter ; and where we know there were tombs ; for the monument of John
the high-priest was in the angle described by that fact. And it is surely a won-
derM confirmation of the Christian tradition, that these cncumstances, incidentally
recorded by a Jewish writer with a totally different view, should all concur in
showing not merely the possibihty, but even the probability of its truth. If unde-
signed coincidences are worth anything in such arguments, the holy sepulchre is
justly entitled to the fiiU benefit of these, which it is impossible for scepticism itself
to suspect."

The history of the edifice about which so many disputes have existed may be
thus briefly told. It was erected, as has been so often stated, by the mother of
Constantiue ; and, as is believed, on the spot which contains the cave in which our
Lord was entombed. The discovery, it is further asserted, of the true cross gave
an additional sanctity to the space aroiuid ; and the cave, the massive rock which
rent when the Saviour said, " It is finished ! " and the eminence on which the cross

* Quaresmius gives a copious collection of testimonies in support of the received account. It is evi-
dent that in the minds of sucli men as Bede, and other writers of the middle ages, not a doubt existed
but that tlie reports of the pilgrims from the Holy Land might be safely depended on. Elucidatio
Terrjo Sanctai, lib. v. e. ix.

t The Kev. G. Williams, late cliaplain to Bishop Alexander. See "The Holy City; or. Historical
i>nd Topographical Notices of Jerusalem," part ii. c. i. p. 289.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 135

was fixed, were all encased in marble, and enclosed within the walls of the church.
No cost was spared to render the building answerable to the wealth and piety of
those by whom it was planned. It continued to be the admiration of Christians till
the year 614, when the Persian conqueror, Chosroes, amid other acts of barbarian
ferocity, burnt the venerable edifice to the ground. But this could neither harm
the sanctity of the spot, nor injure that which alone had originally pointed it out to
the reverence of the faithfiil. The church was accordingly rebuilt in 628, by the
Emperor Heraclhis ; and when the Caliph Omar became master of Jerusalem, he
was so far fi-om injuring the sacred pile, that he protected it by his commands, and
honoured it by acts of personal piety. From this period it remained safe for 370
years, when it was assailed by Hakem, the Egyptian caliph. It was, however, soon
after repaired; and was preserved fiom any material accident till the year 1808,
when it was utterly destroyed by fire, the flames sparing nothing in their ravages
but the ornaments about the holy of holies, or the tomb itself. Notwithstanding
the oppression endured by the Christians in the East, and the poverty under which
the greater number of them groan, then- ardent zeal prompted them to commence
the immediate reconstruction of the church. Thus it has risen again in all its
ancient grandeiu", and in the very form in which it had for so many ages inspired
the rapturous veneration of devout pilgrims.

Of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre as it existed two centuries back, we have
admirable accounts in the journals of Sandys and Maundrell, men whose acuteness
was indisputably as great as Dr. Clarke's, or that of any other modem traveller, but
whose genuine English and Protestant feeling was no hinderance to the flow of devo-
tional thought, or to their sympathy with those who had no wish but to live and die
amid the scenes consecrated by their Saviour's presence. Hanng expressed his grief
at beholding the enemies of Christ lords of his sepulchre, the venerable Sandys
begins his description of the spot by observing, that, "to make the foundation even
in a place so uneven, much of the rock had been hewn away, and parts too low
supplied with mighty arches : so that those natural forms were utterly deformed,
which would have better satisfied the beholder ; and too much regard had made
them less regardable." He adds: "The roof of the temple is of a high pitch'
curiously arched, and supported with great pillars of marble ; the outward aisles
galleried above ; the universal fabric stately and sumptuous." *

That which follows is strikingly characteristic of the temper, sedate and en-
lightened, but fen'ent and devout, which gives so much both of pathos and value
to the writings of our older travellers. " After we had disposed of our luggage in a
pait of the north gallery belongmg to the Latins, the confessor offered to show us
the holy and observable places in the temple ; which we gladly accepted, he
demanding first if devotion or curiosity had possessed us with that desire. So thai

* A Relatiou of a Journey begun IBIO, third edit. 1627, lib. iii. p. 6!.

130 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

for omitting Pater-Nosters and Ave-Marias, we lost many years' indulgences,
which every place doth plentifully afford to such as affect them, and contented
ourselves with an historical relation."

The account which Sandys gives of the church, and of the various objects to which
his attention was directed, agrees remarkably with that of modem travellers : like
them, he tells us, that the first relic of antiquity which engaged his notice was a
marble slab just before the door of the church, level with the pavement, and sur-
rounded by a brass railing. This stone, it is said, covers that upon which
Nicodemus anointed the body of our Lord. At each end are placed three enor-
mous wax candles ; and beautiful silver lamps, the votive gifts of various convents,
cast their symboUcal light on the honoured spot. The Stone of Unction, as it is
called, still remains ; but some of the objects spoken of in the earlier descriptions
were destroyed, or changed in appearance, by the fire of 1808. This is the case
with regard to the tombs of Godfrey of Bouillon and his brother Baldwin, which
originally adorned the Chapel of St. John, the far end of which, according to
Sandys, is close to the foot of Calvary. On the left side of the altar of this chapel
is a cleft in the rock, in which the monks pretend the head* of Adam was found,
adding, with more of pathos than truth, that the father of the human race, being
aided by the sprit of prophecy to foresee where Christ would be crucified, desired
to be buried there, that his bones might be sprinkled with the real blood of the
Saviour. Over this, it is added, are the chapels of Mount Calvary, ascended on the
north side by twenty steps ; the highest hewn out of the rock forms a part of tlie
passage, and is obscure and very narrow. " The floor of the first chapel is
checkered with diverse coloured marbles ; not to be trod upon by feet that are shod.
At the east end, under a large arched concave of the wall, is the place where our
Saviour did suffer ; which may assuredly be thought the same ; and, if one place be
more holy than another, reputed in the world the most venerable. He is void of
sense that sees, beUeves, and is not then confounded with his passion. The
rock there riseth half-a-yard higher than the pavement, level above, in form of an
altar, ten feet long and six broad, flagged with white marble ; as are the arch and
wall adjoining. In the midst is the place where the cross did stand, lined with
.silver-gilt, and embossed. This they creep to, prostrate themselves thereon, kiss,
salute; and such as use them sanctify therein their beads and crucifixes. On
either side there standeth a cross, that on the right side in the place where the
good thief was cmcified ; and that on the lefi where the bad, divided from Christ
by the rent of the rock, (a figure of his spiritual separation,) which clove asunder in
the hour of his passion."

It is evident from this account, that Sandys was strongly impressed with the

* From this circumstance the monks would have it, that the place derived its name of Calvary,
Golgotha, or the place of a skull.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. ) 37

truth of the old tradition. He appears also to have examined with attention the
character of the place itself; for, speaking of the cleft in the rock, he says, "The in-
sides do testify that art had no hand therein ; each side to other being answerably
rugged ; and these were inaccessible to the workman. This place bclongeth to the
Georgians, whose priests are poor, and accept of alms. No other nation says mass
on that altar, over which there hang forty-six lamps, which bum continually. On
the selfsame floor, of the selfsame foim, is that other chapel, belonging to the
Latins, divided only by a curtain, and entered through the former. In the midst of
the pavement is a square, inchased with stones of different colours, where Christ, as
they say, was nailed upon the cross. This place is too holy to be trod upon.
They wear the hard stone with their soft knees ; and heat them with their fervent
kisses; prostrating themselves, and tumbling up and down with an over-active zeal."

The chapels thus spoken of crown the summit of the rock. Close at hand is
another little chapel, built, it is said, on the spot where Abraham offered up his son
Isaac. The existence of this and other supposititious memorials of the past, is
unhappily prejudicial to the genuine associations belonging to the place. Thus^,
while we may easily give credit to the tradition which points out the site of our
Lord's crucifixion and bmial, it is difficult to yield assent to the guide who tells
us, that about twenty paces to the west of Calvary is the spot on which the Virgin
Mary and St. John stood contemplating the Divine Sufferer: that a little way from
the sepulchre itself, the precise spot may be seen where our Lord appeared to
Mary Magdalene; and the other where he appeared to his mother, over which is the
chapel, called the Chapel of the Apparition. Tradition has run riot in thus pre
tending to point out positions which, in the very nature of things, could derive no
particular note or mark from the incidents alluded to. The crucifixion, on the
other hand, was a public event ; the spot on which it took place was likely to be
remembered by a vast number of the spectators ; and the place and circumstances
of the entombment were too remarkable to be unnoticed by either friends or
enemies.

Thus the Church of the Holy Sepulchre is contained within a cloistered circle, the
lower portion of which is divided into several chapels, while that above affords a
lodging for the numerous monks engaged in the service of the sanctuary. " This
round," says the old traveller, " is covered with a cupola, sustained with rafters of
cedar, each of one piece ; being open in the midst, hke the Pantheon at Rome.
Just in the midst, and in the view of heaven, stands the glorified sepulchre, a hun-
dred and eighty feet distant from Moimt Calvary ; the natural rock sunnounting
the soil of the temple, abated by art, and hewn into the form of a chapel, of greater
length than breadth, and ending in a semicircle, all flagged with white marble.
The hinder part being something more eminent than the other, is environed with
ten small pillars adjoining the wall, and sustaining the cornice. On the top, which
is flat, and in the midst thereof, a little cupola, covered with lead, is erected upon six

2 N

138 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

double, but small Corinthian columns of polished poiphyry. The other part, being
lower than this by the height of the cornice, smooth above, and not so garnished on
the sides, serving as a lobby, or portico to the Ibrmer, is entered at the east end.
Before the door is a long pavement, erected something above the floor of the
chuiTh, included between two white marble walls, not more than ten feet high, con-
sisting of the selfsame rock, and containing within a concave — about three yards
square — the roof hewn compass ; all flagged throughout with white marble. In the
midst of the floor there is a stone, about a foot high and a foot and a half square,
whereon they say that the angel sat who told the two Maries that our Saviour was
risen. Eut St. Matthew saith that he sat upon the great stone which he had rolled
from the mouth of the sepulchre, which, as it is said, the empress caused to be con-
veyed to the Church of St. Saviour, standing where once stood the palace of
Caiaphas."

From this chapel a passage, about three feet high and two broad, cut through the
rock, and furnished with a stone door, leads into another cave about eight feet
square, and the same in height, the rocky roof being lined with beautiful white
marble. On the north side of this little chapel is the sacred tomb, about a yard in
height, and so encased in marble as to form an altar, sufficiently large to enable
three persons to unite in their devotions at its foot. Latins, Greeks, Armenians,
Copts, and Abyssinians regard it as a privilege to be allowed to suspend their lamps
over this most venerateil of altars. Seven lai'ge silver, and forty-four smaller lamps*
are kept perpetually burning, and aflbrd an apt emblem of the ceaseless devotion
which, in their successive services, the monks ofl'cr up, day and night, in the neigh-
bouring chapels.

To the accuracy of the description , given by Sandys of the holy sepulchre, as
existing in his time, Maundrell, who visited it between eighty and ninety years later,
bears willing testimony .f He, however, examined the church carefully for himself,
and tells us that he foimd it less than one hundred paces long, and not more
than sixty wide, but that it was so contrived as to contain imder its roof twelve
or thirteen sanctuaries, marking particular circumstances in the sufierings and
resurrection of our Lord. These he mentions: as, first, the place where Jesus was
derided by the soldiers ; secondly, where they cast lots for his garments ; thirdly,
where he was shut up, while they dug the hole in which to fix the cross ; fourthly,
where he was nailed to the tree ; fifthly, where the cross was erected ; sixthly,

• Of these the old French traveller says, " Thirty belonged to the Catholics ; and the rest to the
other nations who had the privilege of worshipping in the church." — Voyage de la Terre Sainte, 1657..
p. 93.

t " Our learned and sagacious countryman, Mr. Sandys, whose description and draughts, both of this
church and also of the other remarkable places in and about Jerusalem, must be acknowledged so
faitliful and perfect, that tliey leave very little to be added by after comers, and nothing to be cor-
rected." Friday, March 26, 1697.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 139

where the soldier stood who pierced bis side ; and so on, each spot being sur-
mounted by an altar, and regarded as a station for the exercise of some especial act
of devotion. In galleries round about the church, and in little buildings annexed
to it on the outside, Maundrell saw the apartments which had been formerly occupied
not only by Latins and Greeks, but by Syrians, Armenians, Abyssinians, Georgians,
Nestorians, Cophtites, Maronites, &c. ; almost everj' Christian nation having, in
earlier times, maintained a small society of monks in the Church of the Sepulchre,
and the Turks assigning to each society its proper quarter. All but four of these
brotherhoods had forsaken the church in Maundrell's time, not being able to pay
the heavy rent demanded of them by the Turks. The Latins, Greeks, Armenians,
and Cophtites had still their lodgings in the building ; but of these the last named
had only one poor representative ; and the Armenians were so much in debt that it
was supposed they must soon follow the example of those who had already forsaken
the place. The daily employment of the monks who were enabled still to enjoy the
much-coveted privilege of a residence in this sanctuary, was to trim the lamps, and
make devotional visits and processions to the several altars in the church. " Thus,
it is said, they spend their time, many of them four or six years together ; nay, so
far are some transported with the pleasing contemplations in which they here enter-
tain themselves, that they will never come out to their dying day, burying them-
selves, as it were, alive in our Lord's grave."

The appearance of this remarkable place, it has been already observed, is little
altered by the destnictive fire of 1808. Mr. Elliott says, " It is an oblong structure,
about fifteen feet by ten, roofed in with a handsome ceiling, corresponding to the
richness of the silver, gold, and marble which decorate its interior." The inner
apartment, which Sandys represents as eight feet square, is also described by the
later traveller, as lined with verd-antique, and just large enough to allow four
persons to stand by the side of a plain white sarcophagus of the ordinary dimensions.
Many a devout pUgrim has expressed his wonder and delight, that when all the rest
of the edifice was like a raging furnace, even the stones and marble pUlars crumbhng
into dust beneath the fury of the flames, the very cui-tams about the holy tomb
remained unsinged

A traveller * whose descriptions are always lively and interesting, having spoken
of the other remarkable places in the circuit of the church, thus describes the
Chapel of the Cross. " Descendiug twenty-eight broad marble steps, the visitor
comes to a large chamber, eighteen paces square, dimly lighted by a few distant
lamps, the roof being supported by four short columns with enormous capitals. In
front of the steps is the altar, and on the right a seat, on which the Empress Helena,
advised by a dream where the true cross was to be found, sat and watched the
workmen who were digging below. Descending again fourteen steps, another

• Stephens. Incidents of Travel, cliap. xxviii.

]40 THE CHBISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

chamber is reached, darker and more dimly hghted than the first, and hung with
faded red tapestry. A marble slab, beaiing on it a figure of the cross, covers the
mouth of the pit in which the true cross was found. The next chapel is over the
spot where our Saviour was crowned with thorns ; and under the altar, protected
by an iron grating, is the very stone on which he sat. Then the visitor arrives at
Mount Calvary. A narrow marble staircase, of eighteen steps, leads to a chapel
about fifteen feet square, paved with marble in mosaic, and hung on all sides with
silken tapestry, and lamps dimly burning. The chapel is divided by two short
pillars, hung also with silk, and supporting quadrangular arches ; at the extremity is
a large altar, ornamented with paintings and figures ; and under the altar a circular
silver plate, with a hole in the centre, indicating the spot in which rested the step of
the cross. On each side of the hole is another, the two designating the places
where the crosses of the two thieves were erected. And near by, on the same
marble platform, is a crevice about three feet long and three inches wide, having
brass bars over it, and a cover of sUk." Removing the covering, our traveller saw,
by the aid of a lamp, a fissure in the rock, which, it is said, was rent asunder, as
mentioned above, at the moment when our Saviour expired. Descending to the
floor of the chiu-ch, he saw this rent still more distinctly, and opposite to it a
monument, covering, marvellous to be said, the head of Adam !

Having thus accomphshed the tour of the church, the visitor returned to the holy
sepulchre itself. Taking off his shoes on the marble platform in front, he was ad-
mitted by a low door ; and in the centre of the first chamber beheld, as in the
earher accounts, the very stone which, it is pretended, x\as rolled away fiom the
mouth of the sepulchre. Again stooping, and lower than before, he entered the
inner chamber, the hoUest of holy places. " The sepulchre," he says, " is a marble
sarcophagus, somewhat resembling a common marble bathing-tub, with a lid of the
same material. Over it hang forty-three lamps, which bum without ceasing, night
and day. The sarcophagus is six feet and one inch long, and occupies about one
half of the chamber; and one of the monks being always present to receive the gifts
or tribute of the pilgrims, there is only room for three or four at a time to enter.
The walls are of a greenish marble, usually called verd-autique."

Such is the description of the holy sepulchi-e, given by Mr. Stephens, and it is
well worthy of observation that it closely agrees with those of a much earlier date.
There is every reason, indeed, to believe that the spot, so venerated by the
Christians of the East in the present day, has undergone no material alteration
smce the period, when it was first nsited by the hosts of pUgrims, who were ready to
shed their blood to deliver it from the hands of the infidel. How it acquired such
sanctity in the eyes of those devoted worshippers it would be difficult to explain, if
we did not go back to a very remote tradition; and it would be still more difficult to
explain the origin of such a tradition, if utterly without foundation; if directly
opposed to the truth.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINK. 141

But, unhappily, in tliis, as in almost all cases of a similar kind, the devotion to the
outward object was in direct antagonism to the principles in which it ought to have
its birth. The worship due to the Saviour is given to his supposed sepulchre.
Contemplations which should have inspired obedience, end in a wild and profane
fanaticism.

Nothing can be more distressing thcin the agreement in this respect between the
accounts given by travellers visiting the holy sepulchre, so long back as the time of
Maundrell, and those of our own times. " That," says the writer referred to,
•' which has £dways been the great prize contended for by the several sects, is the
command and appropriation of the holy sepulchre ; a prinlege contested with so much
unchristian fiiry and animosity, especially between the Greeks and Latins, that
in disputing which party should go into it to celebrate mass, they have sometimes
proceeded to blows and wounds, even at the very door of the sepulchre, miuglrng
their own blood with their sacrifices ; an evidence of which fury the father-guardian
showed us in a great scar upon his arm, which he told us was the mark of a wound
given him by a sturdy Greek priest, in one of these unholy wars."*

Now let us compare this with what is occurring among the worshippers at the
holy sepulchre in our own days. " Oui- ^asits to the Church of the Sepulchre were
frequent, as we happened to be present in Jerusalem during the ' holy week' of both
the Latins and the Greeks, one of which immediately followed the other. Once in
three years they occur together ; the second year they succeed each other, as on
this occasion ; and the third, an interval of seven days elapses between the termi-
nation of the one and the commencement of the other. It is when both parties
require access to the tomb at the same, or nearly the same time, that the most dis-
graceful scenes are witnessed. The church is then crowded to excess by pilgrims,
all anxious to obtain the best places, and scuffling for them without shame or awe;
so that children, women, and even men, are often killed. But accidents constitute
the least melancholy part of the drama. With or without provocation, the opposite
parties, animated by religious hate, and impelled by their priests, proceed to
blows ; the hallowed shrine is stained with the blood of murderers and the mur-
dered ; and Turkish soldiers are forced to interfere, and drag violently from the
fray Christian combatants ; nay, Christian priests, wielding their bludgeons over the
sepulchre of the Prince of Peace ! Could anything rival the horror of such a scene,
it would be that inspired by the conduct of the Turks themselves. Accustomed to
regard Christians as dogs, and to detest them as idolaters ; too long habituated to
the riots and murders of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre ; and justly consider-
ing the pilgrims and priests who figure there as among the most foolish and
degraded of their race, the indignities they inflict on them know no bouuds. If a
Turk of rank, or a Frank gentleman wish to pass through the crowd, a kowass will

* Journey from Aleppo to Jemsalem, March 26.

2 O

142 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

precede him with a stick, dealing his blows right and left with a mercilessness
which makes the beholder shudder ; and the hierarchy at the very altar crouch and
bleed under the strokes of the infidel."*

The contemplation of such proceedings, amid such scenes, arouses in the mind a
mingled feeUug of surprise, indignation, aud sorrow. But if so painful an emotion
is excited by the conduct of Christian worshippers at the supposed tomb of their
Lord, what ought we not to feel when the offence is committed, not against an ima-
gined or symbolical sanctity of place, but against the Living Truth, the eternal
holiness of the Saviour ? Yet how much readier are we to express our horror in the
one case than in the other ! so evident is it, that, in another form, he who most
prides himself upon his enlightenment may offend against the truth as much as
these infatuated worshippers ; for if he feel more offended at their hiconsistency than
at the inconsistency of the world, he sets a higher value upon the decencies of an
outward rehgion, than on its doctrines and its spirit.

* Elliott, p. 449.

VIA CAPTIVITATIS—GETHSEMANE— MOUNT OF OLIVES—

VIA DOLOROSA.

On the outside of the eastern wall of the city is the road which, leading from the

place, where our Lord ate the last passover with his disciples, to Gethsemane

and the Mount of Olives, and thence to the house of Caiaphas, has been called the Via

Captivitatis, the Path of the Captivity. It runs close to the Valley of Jehoshaphat ;

and the old writers enumerate ten stations rendered peculiarly venerable by some

circumstance connected with the history of our Lord's passion.* The beginning of

this road passes through that part of the valley which has been called the Valley of

Gehinnon, dividing Mount Sion from " the Mountain of Offence," so named, because

Solomon there sacrificed to Chemosh and Molech ; and by Christians called " the

Mountain of 111 Counsel," because there the Pharisees took counsel against Jesus to

put him to death. In this once beautiful, but now melancholy valley, those awful

exhibitions of idolatry took place, in wliich all natural feeling, the direst of sacrifices,

was given up to the dread voice of the spirit of evil. It was here that parents made

their children to pass through the fire to Molech ; and that Tophet resounded with

the mingled shrieks of these human MCtims, and the wildest uproar of maddened

superstition. When king Josiah brake down the idol to which this terrible worship

had been rendered, Gehenna was appointed to be a receptacle for dead carcases, and

all the filth of the city. The fires which were continually kept burning to consume

this filth ; the heavy volumes of smoke rolling along the rocks, and broken only by

the flames which glared redly through it, gave an unspeakable honor to the scene ;

and hence our Lord, in alluding to the place of final punishment, calls it Gehenna.

On the south side of this valley, near its union with the Valley of Jehoshaphat,

some way up on the side of the mountain, is Aceldaina, or the Field of Blood,

the place to biuy strangers in. When Sandys visited this spot it still retained its

ancient character. In the midst was a large squaie inclosure ; the south side being

walled by the natural rock, flat at the top, and equal with the upper level. This was

furnished with little cupolas, through the openings in which the bodies were let

down to their appointed resting-place. "Through these openings," says Sandys,

" we might see the bottom, all covered with bones ; and certain corses but newly

let down ; it being now the sepulchre of the Armenians. A greedy giave, and great

* Quaresniius, Elucidatio, t. ii. lib. iv. p. 150.

144 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE

enough to devour the dead of a whole nation ; for they say, and I believe it, that
the earth thereof, within the space of eight and forty hours, will consume the flesh
that is laid thereon. In the rock about there are divers sepulchres, and some in use
at this day, having great stones rolled against their mouths, according to the ancient
custom. Beyond, on the point of the hill, a cave hewn out of the rock, consisting
of several rooms, is said to have hidden six of the apostles in the time of Christ's
passion ; first, without doubt, made for a sepulchre, and afterwards ser^-ing for a
hermitage." *

The brook, or torrent of Kedron, which once ran, deep and rapid, through the
Valley of Gehinnon and Jehoshaphat, was fed not only by waters from the moun-
tains, but by the pools and fountains in its neighbourhood. The old geographer,
Adrichomius, describes it as permeating scenes of great beauty and fertility ; its
murmurs delighting the ear; and the pleasant woods and gardens, on its banks,
charming the eye. t No traces of this sylvan lovehness now exist. In the summer
Kedron is dry; and in the winter it rolls Along a path of gloom jnd desolation.

According to Doubdan, J and other writers, the Valley of Jehoshaphat runs
between Mount Sion and Mount Moriah, on which the western portion of the city
is built, and the Mount of Olives and the HUl of Off'ence, towards the east. Its
length from north to south is about two thousand paces ; and its depth in reference
to the town, from two hundred to two hundred and fifty; in regard to Mount
Olivet, from five to six hundred feet. At one part, it is only just broad enough to
form a channel for the brook Kedron ; but it enlarges as the mountains retreat, and
for a short space is two or three hundred paces wide. This valley of tombs and
shadows, § has been called at different times, the Valley of Kedron, because of the
dark torrent for which it affords a channel ; and the Royal Valley, because it was
once the scene in which kings and nobles delighted to contemplate the richest, as
well as the most solemn, features of nature. Its more common name it has derived
either from the circumstance that king Jehoshaphat constructed his tomb amid its
quiet shades, or, as St. Jerome supposes, from the words of the prophecy, " I will
also gather all nations, and will bring them down into the Valley of Jehoshaphat, and
will plead with them there for my people, and for my heritage Israel, whom they
have scattered among the nations, and parted my land." ||

Both Jews and Turks, and even Christians, have for many ages believed that this
Valley of " the Judgment of the Lord," the hteral meaning of Jehoshaphat, will be

* Relation of a Jonmev, lib. iii. p. 186. 1627.

t In cujus utraque ripa multae, denssp, ac fi-actiferse crescebant arbores : qnarum amsena fades, unk
cum -incinis hortis, qui limpidissimis aquis Cedron, irrigabantur, obambulantium oculos animumqne
amaenabat. Elucidatio, t. ii. p. 155.

+ Le Voyage de la Terre S;iinte, p. 261. 1657. § Schubert, Reise in das Jlorgenland, b ii. p. oi'.K.

II Joel iii. 2. Quaresmius takes pains to show that the gathering spoken of will not be confined to
the narrow valley itself, but will extend to the circumjacent region. Elucidatio, t. ii. lib. iv. p. 154.

1' '^9- r-Er:

THK CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 145

the scene of the great assize. This notion, it has been supposed, derives additional
credibility from the words of the angels, who, when our Lord had ascended into
heaven, proclaimed that he shall so come again, as he had been seen to go into
heaven;* justifying the belief, that having ascended from Mount Olivet, he will
reappear there, sun-ounded by a glorious assemblage of saints and angels, and
proceed to the judgment of the nations gathered together in the vaUey beneath.

The Valley of Jehoshaphat has been, from time immemorial, a place of burial
for the Jews. Tradition here points to the spot in which the remains of the Virgin
Mary were solemnly entombed ; and over which the Empress Helena built a magni-
ficent church. About eighteen paces from the brook Kedron, towards the east, is a
square tomb, siurounded by a pyramid, and this is supposed to contain the ashes of
the prophet Zacharias, who was slain between the temple and the altar. The Jews,
it is said, fast on the anniversaiy of his death, and visit this tomb, prostrating them-
selves before it with tears and lamentations.

At a little distance from this tomb, is that of Absalom. Many of the Jews sup-
pose that that rebeUious son of David was not buried there, but died beyond Jordan,
and had only a heap of stones for his monument.t It is the common custom, how-
ever, of the passer by, whether Jew or Turk, to cast something at the tomb, and
utter a malediction on the name of Absalom for his filial ingratitude. The tomb,
which is said to have been constructed by David, is sixteen feet square, being
ornamented with ten pillars, and four pilasters with Doric architraves, and a heavy
dome. The whole, like that of Zacharias, is cut out of the solid rock, and stands
distinct from the surrounding mass. The tomb of Jehoshaphat is near that of
Absalom, cut in the rock, and presenting the appearance of a church.

A little beyond these remarkable sepulchres, and at the foot of Mount Olivet, is a
spot which requires no monument built with hands to render it sacred in the eyes
of Christians. This is the Garden of Gethsemane ; in which the same characteristics
of solitude and gloom fill the mind with awe, as in the time of our Lord. Even the
most sceptical of travellers are not disposed to question the identity of this place
witli the scene of the Redeemer's agony. Eight olive-trees, of immense growth, and
unknown antiquity, still connect the present with the past by the strongest of associ-
ations ; and cold indeed must be the heart which owns the worth of salvation, but
can fail, in the Garden of Gethsemane, to feel anxious to glorify its author with
sacrifices of love and obedience.

Gethsemane is to the Valley of Jehoshaphat, hke the conclusion of some melan-
choly chapter in a history of great events. The tombs of kings, princes, and
prophets, bring before the mind a mighty, though condensed, narrative of the
most wonderful occurrences. But human sin and folly infected the whole current
of life, as thus flowing on in the dark channel of ancient dispensations. When the

* Eugene Roger, La Terre Sainte, liv. i. p. 149. t Idem. p. 158. 1664.

•2r

146 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

hour was come for the judgment of the world, the accumulated mass of ill pressed
with all its weight upon the innocent brow of man's heroic Saviour. Gethsemane, as
the scene of his agony, has an aspect of gloom and sadness far deeper than that of
he Valley of Jehoshaphat, though pre-eminently the place of tombs. This valley is
described as exhibiting a desolate appearance ; the west side being a lofty lime-
stone cUff, supporting the walls of the city ; while the east is formed by the Mount
of Olives, and the Mount of Offence, so called, we have seen, fi-om its being the scene
of Solomon's idolatry. These hills are of a dv-11 red colour, and destitute of verdure,
except in the few spots where the rock affords a scanty nourishment for the wUd olive,
the \-ine, and the hyssop. In other parts, the nakedness of the overhanging cliffs is
concealed by the ruins of chapels, oratories, and mosques ; and the channel of
Kedron, derives a strange look fi-om the little stone bridge thrown across its
exhausted tori-ent Everything in tlie neighbourhood of the valley is sad and
still. " From the dulness of Jerusalem," says Chateaubriand, " whence no smoke
arises, no noise proceeds ; from the soUtude of these hills, where no lidng creature
is to be seen ; from tlie ruinous state of all these tombs, overtlirown, broken, and half
open ; you would imagine that the last trump had already sounded, and that the
Valley of Jehoshaphat was about to render up its dead."

The fountain of Siloa springs from the foot of Mount Sion, and waters a portion
of the Valley of Gehinnon. A few minutes distant from tlie fountain Is the pool of
the same name, the former still pouring forth a placid stream, but the latter being
nothing better than a stagnant reservoir. It was from this pool, in ancient times,
that the water necessary for the service of the temple was drawn. On the last day
of the feast golden vessels were employed for this purpose, and to this the words of
Isaiah may be supposed to allude : — " With joy shall ye draw water out of the wells
of salvation." * It was to the pool of Siloam that our Lord sent the blind man,
whose sight he restored, to wash ; and a church formerly existed on the spot in
commemoration of the miracle. In the immediate neighbourhood, also, of this pool
is the place where the prophet Isaiah is said to have suffered his cruel martyrdom,
being sawn asunder. Tradition further reports that he was buried under the
oak Rogel, replaced by a wliite mulberry tree ; and close by, in former times, might
be seen the ruins of the tower which fell upon the eighteen persons, respecting whom
our Lord asked, " Think ye that they were sinners above all the men that dwell in
Jerusalem ? " f

The Mount of Olives, as we have seen, is only separated from Jerusalem, by the
Valley of Jehoshaphat. Thus St. Luke describes it as distant a Sabbath day's jour-
ney . From its summit, Jerusalem is seen in all its varied extent, imagination filling up
the now desolate spaces with the proud structures which once crowded upon the
sight. The mountain has three distinct summits ; of which the centre is the highest.

* Chap. xii. 3. t Luko siii. 4.

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THE CHRISTIAN" IN PALESTINE. J 47

Upon each, it is said, some idolatrous temple was erected in the time of Solomon,
the loftiest being devoted to the worship of Ashtaroth. The piety of Josiah oblite-
rated all traces of these abominations ; and Mount Ohvet has been contemplated for
ages as the appointed scene of the noblest events. St. Augustine speaks of it as
the fiiiitfid mountain, the mountain of balm and perfumes ; the mountain of anoint-
ing ; and as consecrated by our Lord's frequent presence ; by his prayers, his exhor-
tations, his tears and watchings. St. Jerome calls it the mountain of the three lights ;
and observes that it was here our Lord, when asked by his disciples what would be
the signs of his coming, gave that awful account of the future judgment, which still
remains for the warning and edification of his people. It was here he was met hj
the multitude bearing palms and olive-branches, when he was preparing to enter
Jerusalem ; and it was from the summit of this hill that he ascended into heaven in
the sight of his astonished, but rejoicing, disciples.

Every step, almost, which the pilgrim sets in the ascent to the top of this
hallowed mountain, brings before him some legendary memorial of our Lord, or his
disciples. The traditions are characteristic of the ready faith of eai'ly travellers.
Thus a httle beyond the sepulchres of the prophets, and a short way up the moun-
tain, twelve arched vaults are shown, marking the place in which, it is said, the
apostles dwelt when tliey settled the grand outlines of the Christian profession.
Sixty paces higher up is the spot on which our Lord sat when uttering his prophecy
respecting the fall of Jenisalem. To the right of this is that which he rendered
memorable Dy a second time dictating the great pattern of prayer to his disciples.
Higher up is the place where the Virgin Mary is said to have been informed by an
angel that her death would happen in three days ; while the summit is still marked
by remains of the structures which ancient piety erected in honour of circumstances
much more credible than these creations of imagination. " So commanding,"
says Dr. Clarke, " is the view of Jerusalem from this mountain, that the eye roams
over all the streets, and around the walls, as if in the survey of a plan, or model
of the city. Towards the south appears the Lake Asphaltites, or the Dead Sea,
a noble expanse of water, seeming to be within a short ride of the city, but the real
distance is much greater. I>ofty mountains enclose it with prodigious giandeur.
To the north are seen the verdant and fertile pastures of the Plains of Jericho,
watered by the Jordan, whose course may be distinctly discerned." So also Mr.
Stephens : — "The olive still maintains its place on its native mountain, and now grows
spontaneously upon its top and sides, as in the days of David and our Saviour. In
a few moments we reached the summit, the view fi-om which embraces, perhaps,
more interesting objects than any other in the world. The Valley of Jehoshaphat,
the' Garden of Gethsemane, and Uie City of Jerusalem, the Plains of Jericho, the
Valley of Jordan, and the Dead Sea." This traveller, like others, adds, that on the
top of the mountain is a miserable Arab village, in the centre of which is a small
octagonal building, erected, according to tradition, over the spot from which our

148 TUE CHRISTIAN IX PALESTINE.

Lord ascended. Monkish tradition has made the most of this belief. The print of
the Saviour's foot was left, it is said, upon the rock. This mark is enclosed in a sort
of marble frame ; and some pilgrim or the other may always be seen devoutly
engaged in taking impressions of it on wax.

From the ruins of a monastery on one of the most commanding points of the biU,
" the whole city," says Mr. Stephens, " lay extended before me like a map. I
could see and distinguish the streets, and the whole iDterior, to the inner side of the
further wall. And oh ! how different from the city of our Saviour's love. Though
even then but a mere appendage of imperial Rome, it retained the magnificent
wonders of its Jewish kings, and pre-eminent even among the splendid fanes of
heathen worship, rose the proud and magnificent temple. Centuries ago that
temple was a heap of ruins. In the prophetic words of our Saviour, not one stone
was left upon another; and, in the wanton spirit of triumph, a conquenng general
drove his plough over its site. For years the very site lay buried in ruins ; till the
Saracen came with his tenible war-cry, 'The Koran or the sword!' and the great
Mosque of Omar, the holy of holies, in the eyes of all true Moslems, now rears its
lofly dome upon the foundations of the temple of Solomon."

But, impressive as is the spectacle thus brought before us, when connected with
recollections of the past, Jerusalem, as seen firom the point here spoken of, pre-
sents in itself no feature of interest or grandeur. " The Mosque of Omar," says
Mr. Stephens, " was the only object that reUeved the general dulness of the city ;
all the rest was dark, monotonous, and gloomy." And again : " All was as still as
death; and the only sign of life that I could see, was the straggling figure of a
Mussulman, with his slippers in his hand, stealing up the long court-yard to the
threshold of the mosque." While, however, the scene contemplated from the
mountain has imdergone so sad a change, the mountain itself, retaining its ancient
name, stands like an imperishable monument ; a mighty pillar, on which some im
mortal being has painted in symbols the history of the past We still seem to see
David passing with his melancholy troop of followers over the brook Kedron ;
ascending the mount, weeping, with his head covered and his feet bare, and the
whole multitude, lik3 their king, poining out their soul in tears.* In the fulness of
time, another spectacle presents itself; and the Son of David, he whose throne shall
endure for ever and ever, appears on the mount alone, or with some few poor fol-
lowers, to pray and prepare himself for the cross. And still another scene in the
eventfid drama; and the proud Roman, surrounded by generals and counsellors, in
all the pomp of war, stands on the spot where David wept, and Jesus prayed and
prophesied.

On descending the Mount of Olives, and passing the stone bridge over the brook
Kedron, the pilgrim reaches by a steep path the supposed site of St. Stephen's

• 2 Sam. sv. -23 —32, " And Da^id went," &:c.

G.j^m /// //f' '//'.

/ --''/%Vi;i/^'

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. IJft

martyrdom. The flat tablet of rock is still shown on which his blood is said to Iilvc
been shed ; and close at hand is the gate known by his name. Here too is the
pool of Bethesda, but retaining only two of its porches ; and hard by is another
avenue, which, like the Via Captivifatis, has long been regarded as sacred.

This is the Via Dolorosa, the road along which our Lord passed to Calvary, and
which tradition has marked with so many tender memorials of his patience and suf-
ferings. Thus, the spot is shown where he is said to have fallen under the weight of
his cross. In a ruined gallery is a two-arched window, at which Pilate is believed
to have stood when he pronounced the memorable words, as he presented Jesus to
the people, "Behold the man!" About a hundred paces beyond this, are the
remains of a church, built on the spot where the mother of our Lord met him, and
felt the first agonizing throb, which fulfilled the prophetic warning, that " a sword
should pass through her own soul also." Sixty paces further on, where the street
meets with that which leads to the Damascus gate, Simon the Cyrenean, coming out
of the country, met the throng, and was compelled to bear the cross, under which
Jesus was again sinking. A little to the left of this stood the crowd of weeping
women, to whom our Lord said, " Weep not for me, ye daughters of Jerusalem ; but
weep for yourselves, and for your children." The next object of veneration is the
place where it is said Veronica dwelt, the pious woman who, seeing our Lord's face
covered with the blood which streamed from his wounded brows, gave him a napkin,
and was rewarded with a miraculous impression of his countenance on the cloth.
At the end of the street are the remains of the ancient gate, in former times known
as the Gate of the Jebusites, and the Gate of Judgment, it being that through which
criminals commonly passed to the place of execution. Here our Lord entered
upon the open path to Calvary, the foot of which is said to have been about eight
hundred paces from the house of Pilate.

It requires no skill in criticism to prove the incredibility of traditions like most of
these. But neither the present state of Jerusalem itself, nor the character of the
larger portion of its Christian inhabitants, either in this or past ages, could be fairly
understood, without some mention of the places to which this visionary sanctity has
been given by an erring piety.

Most of the sites which enjoy this species of reverence have been adorned by
chiurches, more or less interesting according to the traditions with which their names
are connected. Of these edifices some are now in niins, but others retain many
traces of their early grandeur. Among the latter are those buUt on the spots for-
merly occupied by the prison in which St. Peter was confined ; by the house of
Mary, tlie mother of John Mark ; and by that on which the venerable James the
Great suffered martyrdom.

This last-mentioned church is said to have been built by the kings of Spain,
who also founded the monastery, if this account be true, for the use of Spanish
pilgrims. It has, however, been long in the possession of the Armenians, the wealth

150 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

and dignity of whose religious orders tend materially to preser^'e the foundation in
its original state. The cupola which surmounts the church and is open at top, hke
that of the holy sepulchre, is supported by four noble pillars. Behind one of these
pillars is a little chapel, sumptuously decorated ; and beneath the altar is the stone
upon which, it is said, the holy martyr was beheaded, by the command of Herod.

Travellers agree in describing the Armenian monks as having the appearance of
men, who know well how to maintain and enjoy their privileges. A similar testi-
mony is borne to the character of the numerous pilgrims of the same nation, who
come ut) to Jerusalem to keep the holy week.

■^

•^

MOUNT ZION AND MOUNT MORIAH— AGRA AND

BEZETHA.

On the mention of Mount Zion, the image of Old Jerasalem rises to view, with all
the circumstances of its ancient pomp and glory. But independent of the associa-
tions which give so much of interest to the locahty, it has an importance which
every inquirer recognises, when endeavouring to form any probable conjecture of the
plan, or extent, of the city in by-gone times. The four hills are still traced which
secured to Jerusalem, from age to age, its most remarkable features ; its indehble
characteristic as a city which might become waste and desolate, but could not be
forgotten. These eminences are Mount Zion, Mount Moriah, Acra, and Bezetha.
On each, the patient eye of inquirj- has discovered some trace of the past, and the
valleys which divide the one from the other serve, though indistinctly, to mark the
several quarters of the city. It is a matter of controversy, however, whether the
hills now designated by the above names be strictly entitled to the reverence with
which they are viewed. Of Moriah, it is said, there seems to be the least, of Zion
the most doubt. The former occupies the south-west, the latter the south-east
corner of the city ; Acra and Bezetha being on the north-west and north-east.

Mount Zion, if coiTectly traced, is partly within, and partly without, the walls of
the modem city. The foundations of the palace of David may still, it is supposed,
be viewed on its rocky brow. Hete too was the house of Caiaphas, the high-priest ;
and here is pointed out the spot on which the house stood in which our Lord
celebrated his last passover ; while close at hand are the supposed sepulchres of
David and Solomon. About fifty paces from the Coeuaculum, once stood the
the house, replaced by a church, in which the disciples were assembled on the
day of Pentecost. And here, it is said, Peter preached the sermon which was
attended with such glorious results ; and the apostles assembled when they held the
first council of the Christian Church. These sites were anciently inclosed by
churches and chapels, the gift of princely piety to the devout spirit of the age.
Mosques and monasteries have successively occupied the same spots ; and, at
present, a large portion of the Jewish population have their miserable habitations on
this once palace-crowned eminence.

The natural position of Zion ; its superior height to that of the surrounding eleva-
tions ; and the noble view wliich it commanded, gained it celebrity in the most

152 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

ancient times* Such was the strength of the citadel with which it had heen
crowned, in the remotest ages, that the Israelites found themselves unable to drive
the Jebusites, who inhabited it, from their hold. David having made himself master
of the fortress, regarded it as the very centre of his own peculiar city, as the first
and best fruits of his conquests. Antiochus Epiphanes gained possession of this
stronghold of Zion through the infamous treachery of Menelaus; and it remained in
the hands of this most cruel enemy of the Jewish nation, till the Maccabees nobly
reasserted the honour of their race. Acra challenges, in some points, this historical
importance of Mount Zion ; but there seems good reason to believe that it was
around this venerable mountain, that the fiercest of those struggles took place
which ended in the ruin of the nation. Much depends, it is considered, on deter-
mining the correct position of these two hills. Some writers, the learned Relandt
observes, place Zion to the North, and Acra to the South. But this opinion he
confutes, by a careful comparison of certain passages in Josephus.J Whatever
their position in this respect, they were only separated from each other by a
narrow valley, long known by the name of Tyropceon, or " The Valley of the
Cheesemongers." Of the two hills, that which contained the upper city, he states,
was considerably the higher, answering to the general descriptions of Zion ; while
Acra, on which the lower city was built, is represented as shaped " Uke a moon when
she is horned." Bezetha, the other mountain named in the latter history of Jerusalem,
was first brought within the circuit of the walls by Agrippa, and being soon covered
with buildings, received its appellation of " The New City." But this hill, with Moriah
and Ophel, another rocky eminence, are regarded as forming one connected moun-
tain ridge. According to the Jewish historian, Bezetha was situated over against
the " Tower of Antonia ;" and such was the dread entertained of its proximity
to the fortress, that the rulers of the time had a deep valley, or trench, dug, to pre-
vent the army of an enemy, should he gain this height, from passing over to Zion.
In speaking of the three walls by which Jerusalem was surrounded, Josephus says,
that the oldest of the three was hai-d to be taken, both on account of the valleys and
of the height of the hill on which it was built. It was also, he adds, of gi-eat
strength ; for David and Solomon, and the following kings, were very zealous in
keeping up this portion of the fortifications. This wall commenced at the tower of
" Hippicus," and extended as far as the "Xystus," some place, it is supposed, cf
public amusement, or assembly, and joining the council-house, ended at the west
cloister of the temple. But tracing it in a western direction, and ft'om the same point,
it passed through a place called " Bethso," to the gate of the Essenes. It then,
took a southward direction, above the fountain of SUoam ; whence it again inclined
towards the east, at Solomon's Pool ; and reached as far as a place called " Ophlas,"

* Quaresmius Elucidatio, Terras Sanct. t. ii. p. 117. + Reland, Palsestina, t. ii. lib. iii. p. 846.

X Wars, b. vi. c. vi. c. viii.

K.t>

^^a^sismmmmmiM

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. ) 53

where it joined the eastern cloister of the Temple. The second wall, it is said
began at the gate called " Gennath," which belonged to the first wall; encompass-
ing the northern quarter of the city, and reaching as far as the Tower of Antonia.
Of the third wall, it is stated, that it commenced at the Tower of Hippicus •
whence it extended to the northern quarter of the city, and the Tower of Psephinus.
It then continued for a considerable distance, passing the tomb of Helena, queen of
Adiabene, and the sepulchral caverns of the kings. Making a sharp angle at what
was called " The Monument of the Fuller," it joined the old wall at the Valley of
Kedron.

The third was begun by King Agrippa ; but fearful of exciting the suspicions of
Claudius Caesar, he left the work to be completed by bolder architects. The
magnificence of the design, and the strength of Jerusalem as a fortress, may be well
imagined from the account which Josephus gives of the wall, and the towers by
which both this and the older parts of the fortifications were crowned. The wall
was ten cubits wide and twenty high. Above this, it had battlements two cubits,
and turrets three cubits high, so that its whole height was actually twenty-five
cubits. The stones which connected the parts of this wall together, were twenty
cubits long and ten broad, which never, it is said, could have been easily under-
mined, either by iron tools, or other instruments of war. Ninety towers were planted
along this enormous wall. They are described as being twenty cubits in height,
and the same in breadth ; solid as the wall itself, and rivalling in the beauty of the
stones, and the niceness with which they were compacted, the exquisite building of
the temple. Above the towers, were rooms of great magnificence; and others above
them, with cisterns to receive rain-water. " It was all of it wonderful," adds the histo-
rian, in a manner expressive of intense admiration. Yet was the Tower of Psephinus
elevated above it, at the north-west comer, and there Titus pitched his own tent; ibr,
being seventy cubits high, it both afforded a prospect of Arabia at sun-rising, and of
the furthest limits of the Hebrew possessions by the sea westward. This tower was
octagon in fonn. Opposite to it rose that of Hippicus; and close by were two others,
erected by Herod, and exceeding, it is said, by their vastuess, strength, and beauty,
all that the habitable earth had seen. The Tower of Hippicus, the remains of which
are still contemplated with astonishment, was twenty-five cubits in length and breadth,
and thirty in height. It was a solid mass of masoniy, composed of huge stones.
But above this there was a reservoir twenty cubits deep ; then a house of two
stories, rising to the height of twenty-five cubits, with battlements two, and
turrets three cubits high ; so that the entire height was eighty cubits. The
Tower of Phasaelus was ten cubits higher, and at the top were elegant cloisters,
richly ornamented chambers, and a bath, so that it had all the appearance of a
royal residence. Another tower, which Herod buUt to the memorj' of Mariamue, as
he did those above described, in honour of his friend Hippicus and his brother
Phasaelus, is mentioned by the historian. This was not of such vast proportions ;

2 K

154 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

but it was still more superbly ornamented ; and afforded a melancholy proof of the
vain efforts which the wretched monarch was makmg to quiet his remorse by doing
honour to Mariamne's name.

Close to these towers, which were on the north side of the wall, stood the royal
palace. Such was the splendour of this edifice, that the historian confesses his
inability to describe it in any adequate terms. No cost or skiU had been spared in its
construction. It was surrounded by a wall thirty cubits high ; and had guest-cham-
bers sufficiently large to contain a hundred beds. Nothing could exceed the
magnificence of the furniture, the decorations of the walls and ceilings, or the
beauty of the gold and silver vessels. It is worthy of remark, that at the time when
Josephus wrote so glowingly of the Palace on Mount Zion, of the grandeur of the
edifice itself, and of the lovely gardens inclosed within its walls, he had become
familiar with the magnificence of Rome, and with the sweetest of Italian scenes.
But not even the imperial capital, it seems; not the most verdant of Ausonian
groves and valleys, could bear comparison, in his mind, with the remembered glories
of Zion.

Mount Moriah, which rises ' to the north-east of Zion, is still regarded by the
Jewish Rabbis as the spot on which Abraham offered up his son Isaac. Christian
writers are also generally inchned to support the same opinion. But some dispute
the identity of the mountain, rendered so venerable by the great parent-act of faith,
with that on which the temple reared its majestic firont. The summit of Moriah did
not originally afford an area sufficiently large for the purposed edifice. King Solo-
mon, therefore, erected a wall on the east side, and by means of huge embank-
ments, obtained the required space. The same method was pursued with the other
sides of the hill, where additional room was needed, and thus the narrow ridge of
rock afforded a surface sufficient for the most magnificent structure in the world.

It is on the less celebrated hill of Akra, that the Church of the Holy Sepulchre
stands ; while Bezetha is only distinguished, even by tradition, as the supposed site
of the house of Anna, and of the palace of Herod Agrippa.

The inquiries which have been instituted by modem travellers respecting the
extent of the Temple, and the probable remains of its gigantic foundations, are
highly interesting, and certainly not without their use. But we must pass by such
speculations, to describe the objects which at present constitute the most remark-
able features of Jerusalem. Of these, the Mosque of Omar, occupying the sacred
site of the temple, is, next to the Holy Sepulchre, though for very different reasons,
the most interesting.

This far-famed building is not so much a single mosque, as a collection, or group
of mosques. Its proper name. El Haram, signifies a temple, a place, that is, conse-
crated by the especial presence of divinity. The Mussulmans, we are told, reeogni e
only two temples, as such ; that is, their celebrated mosque at Mecca, and the
Mosque of Omar at Jerusalem. Both these edifices have a peculiar sanctity in their

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. I55

eyes ; and both are closed, by the strictest laws, against Jews, Christians, and all,
in short, who do not profess the faith of the Koran. The ordinary mosques are
known, in Arabic, by a word signifying simply, " a place of assembly ;" they are
regarded with respect, but are not supposed to be the abode of divinity. Hence,
though the appearance of infidels is never agreeable to a pious Mussulman, the gate
of the mosque is closed by no law against them. They are permitted to enter, if bear-
ing the proper official order ; but in the case of the mosque at Mecca, and that of
Omar, the highest officer of the state dare not give an infidel permission to enter. A
violation of the law in respect to these edifices, would be viewed in the light of a
horrible sacrilege ; the order would be despised ; and the unhappy bearer, at-
tempting to employ it, would be toni to pieces by the multitude.

El Haram forms the south-east angle of the city, and occupies, it is believed, the
exact site of the ancient temple. The Mussulman historians describe the latter
building as measuring one thousand five hundred and sixty-three feet in length,
and nine hundred and thirty-eight in breadth ; whereas the present measures one
thousand three hundred and sixty-nine feet in length, and eight himdred and forty-
five in breadth

It forms a vast court, or closed area, and is entered by nine gates, of which five
are on the west side, one on the north-west, and three on the north. There are
no gates on the east or south, these sides of the mosque being closed by the city
walls, which here overhang the precipices of the brook Kedrou, and the ravine
which separates Mount Zion to the south.*

The principal part of the edifice is composed of two magnificent masses of
building, which might be regarded as separate temples, but for their contiguity,
and symmetrical relation to each other. Of these grand divisions of the mosque,
the one is called El-Akxa, and the other El-Sahhnrn.

El-Aksa consists of seven naves, which are supported by pillars and columns.
The centre nave is terminated by a splendid cupola. Two other naves open to
the right and left of the main body of the building, which is approached by a
portico of seven arcades in front, and one in depth, resting on massive square
pillars. The central nave is about 162 feet long, and 32 wide ; the seven arches
on which it rests being slightly pointed, and supported by cylindrical pillars,
without architectural proportion, and the chapiters of which are capriciously
covered with decorations belonging to no order. The fourth pillar, to the right,
is octagonal, of large dimensions, and called the pillai- of Sidi Omar.

The walls rise to the height of thirteen feet above the arches, with two rows ot
twenty-one windows in each. Those of the upper line are seen fi-om without, the
central nave being higher than the rest. The other range of windows opens upon
the interior of the building. A circular wall, somewhat higher than a man, de-

■ Voyages d'Ali Bey, t.iii. c. \-i. p.

130.

156 TUE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

fends the entrance to the three naves on the left, which are set apart for the women.
The cupola is supported by four grand arches, resting on square pillars, decorated
by fine columns of brown marble. The structure itself is spherical, with two lines of
windows, and is ornamented with paintings and beautiful golden arabesques. Be-
tween the cupola and the end wall is a space of about eight feet ; and there it is
that the monhar is placed, or the tribune for the preacher on Fridays. In the wall
at the end of the nave, the mehereb is also seen ; and it is here that the Imaum
stands whose duty it is to direct the worship of the people. It is a niche orna-
mented with a frontispiece of various beautiful marbles, the most remarkable of
which, are six small columns of red and green. The collateral naves of the
cupola are also supported by columns of brown marble, of the same kind as that
of the columns wliich support the middle arches. The aisle which branches to the
left, at right angles to the bottom of the central nave, is formed of a very low and
simple vault. Here, it is said, the Caliph Omar, that pattern of Mussulman piety,
was wont to perform his devotions. It is supposed to be about 72 feet long. Just
beneath the cupola, on the right, fronting the monhar, is the place appointed for the
singers. It is constructed of wood, but supported by several small pUlars of different
coloured marbles. At the side of the monhar is a niche, decorated with ornamental
wood-work. It is called the Place of Christ, and is used as a sacristy ; the Imaum
issuing from this room, in great pomp and ceremony, when about to perform the
solemn services of the Friday. In the entrance nave to the left, near that of the
Caliph Omar, is a kind of chapel or niche ornamented with marble, and which is
designated as the Gate of Mercy.

Immediately in front of the principal gate of the Aksa, is a noble causeway,
two hundred and eighty-four feet long. In the middle is a beautiful marble bason,
with a fountain in the Ibrm of a shell. At the end a magnificent flight of steps
conducts to the .Sahhara ; and the whole appearance of this pai-t of the mosque is
calculated to inspire admiration for its beauty and extent. But contrasted with all
this grandeur, are several buildings of the most wretched description, raised against
the left side of the Aksa, and intended as residences for the numerous officers en-
gaged in the ser\'ice of the mosque.

The other division of the temple, called El-Sahhara, derives its name from the
rock in the centre, about which so many wonderful things have been told, and
which is consequently an object of the profoundest veneration among the devout
Mussulmans. The edifice rises from a vast platform of four hundred and sixty feet
in length, from north to south, and three hundred and ninety-nine in width, fi'om
east to west, being elevated about sixteen feet above the general plane of the
Haram. It is ascended by eight flights of steps ; and in the middle of this marble
platform stands the Sahhara, the form of wliich is octagonal, each side measiuing
sixty-one feet. The four gates by which the worshippers enter are variously
ornamented. That on the south, has a noble portico, supported by eight marble

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. I57

pillars of the Corinthian order. Those on the other three sides are surmounted
with fine timber-work, suspended, and without any columns. From the centre rises
the superb cupola, which forms so conspicuous an object in the views of Jerusalem.
It has two rows of large windows ; and is supported by four huge pillars, and
twelve splendid columns.

The central circle of this remarkable edifice is surrounded by two octangular
concentric naves, separated from each other by eight pillars, and sixteen columns,
of the same order and size as those of the centre, and of the finest brown marble.
The roofs, like those of other parts of the building, are flat, but covered with
ornaments in exquisite taste, with mouldings of marble and gold. The capitals
of the columns are of the composite order, richly gilt. The total diameter of the
edifice is said to be about one hundred and fifty-nine feet, that of the cupola being
about forty-seven feet, and its height ninet3'-three.

To indicate its peculiar sanctity, the plane of the central circle is raised three
feet above that of the surrounding naves ; and is enclosed by a lofty and magni-
ficent railing of iron, gilt. Within this mysterious round stands the sacred rock,
called El-Sahhara-Allah.

This object of Mussulman veneration resembles the segment of a sphere, and
rises, it is said, upon a mean diameter of thirty-three feet. Its surface retains its
natural appearance, and is unequal and rugged. There is, however, a sort of
hollow on the north side ; and this is said to have been formed by the Christians,
who broke oflP the part which is wanting, and endeavoured to carry it away. But
the tradition says, they were defeated in their attempt. The mass of rock became
invisible ; and it was afterwards found in two pieces, which were carefijlly preserved
by the Mussulmans, and placed in some other part of the temple.

According to the Mohammedan notion, the Sahhara-Allah is the place whence,
with the single exception of El-Kaaba, or the house of God, at Mecca, the prayers
of men ascend most acceptably to heaven. " It is on this account," says Ali Bey,
" that all the prophets, since the creation of the world, to the time of the prophet
Mohammed, have come hither to pray ; and that even now the prophets and angels
gather together in invisible troops, to make their prayers on the rock, exclusive of
the ordinary guard of seventy thousand angels, who pei-petually surroimd it, and
who are relieved every day."

The same writer thus repeats the tradition so firmly believed in by the more de-
vout of his supposed brethren. " On the night when the prophet Mohammed was
carried away from Mecca by the angel Gabriel, and transported in a moment through
the air to Jerusalem, upon the mare called El-Borak, which has the head and neck
of a beautiful woman, a crown, and wings, the prophet, after leaving El-Borak at
the gate of tlie temple, came to ofier up his prayer upon El-Sahhara, with the other

• Voyages d'AU Bey, t. iii.c. iv. p. 140.

158

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

prophets and angels, who having saluted him respectfully, yielded to liim the place
of honour. At the moment when the prophet stood upon El-Sahhara, the rock, as
if sensible of the pririlege of bearing so sacred a burden, depressed itself, and,
becoming like soft wax, received the print of his foot upon the upper pait, towards
the south-western border. This print is now covered with a kind of cage, formed
of gilt wire, worked in such a manner that the print cannot be seen on account of
the darkness within, but may be touched >vith the hand, through an opening, left
for that purpose."

Ah Bey adds, that behevers, after having touched the print of the sacred foot,
proceed to sanctify themselves by passing the hand which touched it over the face
and beard.

In the interior of the rock is a cave. To this people descend by a staircase on the
south-east side. The room below is about eighteen feet square, and eight feet high
in the middle ; its roof being rough and iiTegular. To the right, at the bottom of
the staircase, is a small marble tablet, inscribed with the words, El-Makam Soiili-
man, or 77*6 Place of Solomon. To the left is another, inscribed, El-Makam Da-
oud, or The Place of Dacid. A cavity on the south-west side of the rock is called
The Place of Abraham. Other niches are called The Place of Gabriel, and The
Place of Elias. In the roof of the room, exactly in the centre, is a cylindrical
aperture, penetrating almost the whole thickness of the rock, and about three feet
in diameter. This is named The Place of the Prophet.

A wooden fence, about ten feet in height, surrounds the rock itself, and above
this is a gorgeous canopy of red and green silk, suspended over the whole by
means of pillais and columns. Ali Bey states that from what ho himself could
discover, the mass of the rock is composed of a reddish-white marble. Near the
north side of the rock, embedded in the pavement, is a small piece of beautiful
waved green marble, about fifteen inches square, and fastened down by gilt nails.
This, it is said, is the gate of paradise. From several holes in the marble, it is
supposed to have been originally fastened down by a larger number of nails. The
tradition is, that they were pulled out by the devil, when he thought to invade
paradise, but was prevented in his design by the impossibihty of removing the
the nails which still remain.

The Sahhara is externally incrusted with different kinds of marble to half its height ;
little square bricks of different colours forming a coating for the remainder. Each of
the octagons is furnished with five large windows, of splendid painted glass, in ara-
besques. At the distance of a few feet from the Sahhara, and towards the east, facing
the Gate of David, is a fine oratory, its roof supported by eleven antique columns of
reddish calcareous stone, considered to be very precious. A magnificent little cu-
pola adorns the centre of the oratory, and this is also supported by six columns of
the same material. Ali Bey expresses it as his opinion that these columns, and those
in the Sahhara itself, are remains of the ancient temple of Solomon. A niche

.§^

i-VFTi^linKi. ■'HVC--

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 159

between two of the colunms, and forming a place of prayer, is especially reverenced
as the tribunal of David. Numerous little edifices, connected with the main
building, are rendered sacred in the eyes of the Mussulmans by different traditions,
or by their dedication to some religious purpose. They appear, however, to
detract in no slight degree from the general grandeur and beauty of the edifice
itself. Some of the traditions connected with these places are sufficiently startling.
Thus, a subterranean vault, kept strictly under lock and key, is said to be the spot
where the prophet, when he reached Jerusalem, after his midnight journey through
the air from Mecca, alighted from El-Borak. The iron-ring, it is said, is still in
the wall, to which he tied the mare, before he entered the temple to take his part
in the devotions of the angels and prophets. Ali Bey supposes that here was
anciently one of the gates of the temple; the upper part of a magnificent portal
being still visible, a portion of it consisting of a single stone twenty feet long.

The space between the west side of the court El-Sahhara and El-Aksa, is
occupied by several square platforms, raised two or three feet above the level of the
court. They are paved with beautiful marble, and each has a niche for the Imaum,
whose office it is to direct the prayers of the faithfiil. Between the platforms, and
in other parts of the great court of the temple, are several cisterns, the margins
of which are ornamented with marbles, columns, and cupolas. These cisterns
serve as reservoirs for the rain-water, which being collected in sufficient quantities
is then distributed among the people by the regidar water-carriers. According to
common report, the entire area of the Aksa is undermined ; and a staircase is
spoken of, near the principal gate, by which a descent is occasionally made to the
vast vaults beneath.

It is interesting to contrast the course of the Mussulman pilgrim* in Jenisalem,
with that of the Christian ; and this we are enabled to do by the narrative of the
intelligent traveller, to whom we are indebted for so good an account of the Mosque
of Omar. When a Mussulman pilgrim, he says, arrives at Jerusalem, his first
object is to visit the temple. On entering the edifice, he is immediately conducted
to the part of the building called the Throne of Solomon. Here he says a prayer,
before the Gate of Mercy, giving a small sum of money, intended for the schcik of
the temple. He then proceeds to the place called El-Sirat, and ascending a flight
of steps, again performs his devotions. From this spot, his attention is directed to
one of the eight staircases leading to the platform of the Sahhara ; and the arches
over which arc said to contain the invisible but eternal balance, in which the

• We shall, perhaps, somewhat mar the reader's satisfaction, in supposing tha* he is really being
accompanied through the Mosque of Omar by a true Mussulman, when we tcU him that AU Bey was
no other than the learned and enterprising Burckhardt. But for all the purposes of real information,
this wonderful orientalist may properly be regai-ded as a Mussulman; for his acquirements were such
that his disguise was impenetrable. The question, however, must often painfuUy rise to the mind,
How could he retain that disguise in some situations without a fearful offence against truth ?

IGO THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

actions of men will be weighed at the day of judgment. Close by, is the invisible
bridge, which is described as sharper than the edge of a sword. Over this, it is
said, faithful believers will glide rapidly as lightning, in their way to paradise ; while
the wicked, in endeavouring to pass it, will fall into the bottomless abyss which yawns
beneath. Another prayer being repeated, the pilgrim at length reaches the
Sahhara, and, performing his devotions by the mysterious rock, invokes the prophet,
and sanctifies himself by touching the supposed print of the sacred foot. He is
now prepared to enter the cave of the rock ; and nothing, it is said, can be more
vexatious than the pain attending the traversing of the court which leads to the
several spots pointed out as sacred. There is no proper path to these stations, and
the court being thickly covered with thistles and thorny plants, the pilgrim, who
is obliged to walk barefoot, pays no small penalty for every act of devotion which
he performs.

Ali Bey having fulfilled his supposed duty in respect to the temple, and given all
the required alms, on the very day of his arrival in Jerusalem, was conducted the
following morning to the sepulchre of David. He describes the edifice which
covers the tomb as having the appearance of an ancient Greek church. On
entering the building, his guide led him along a gallery running to the left, and
leading to the sepulchre, which is inclosed by several doors and railings of iron.
The monument itself is described as a kind of bier, covered with fine silk stuffs, of
different colours, and richly ornamented.

Our traveller next visited in succession the various spots rendered venerable to
the Mussulman, as well as to the Jew and the Christian, by ancient tradition.
"The Mussulmans," he says, "offer up their devotions in all the holy places
consecrated to the memory of Jesus Christ and the Virgin, except the church
of the sepulchre. This is the only spot generally accounted sacred, the holiness of
which they refiise to acknowledge. Their reason for doing so is founded on the
well-known article of their creed ; according to which they suppose that Christ did
not really die, but that, imposing his likeness on Judas, the traitor was crucified in
his stead."

The description which this distinguished orientalist gives of Jerusalem cor-
responds in most particulars with that of later travellers. He speaks in melan-
choly tones of the general want of intelligence among the people, to whatever class
of religionists they belonged. " As in the case of Mecca," he says, " the sciences
have enturely vanished from Jerusalem. There formerly existed large schools
belonging to the Haram ; but scarcely a trace even of these institutions now exists.
A few small schools, where children of every form of worship learn to read and
write the creed of their respective rehgion, are the only seminaries now existing.
The grossest ignorance prevails even among persons of high rank, and who seem>
on a first interview, to have received an accomplished education."

Of the females Ali Bey gives the following unflattering portrait. " I observed

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 161

but veiy few handsome females. On the contrary, they had mostly that bilious
appearance so common in the East ; a pale citron colour, or a dead white, like
plaster, or paper. Sometimes, but very rarely, I saw one with a fine colour. They
fix a white fillet round their faces, which gives them the appearance of walking
corpses. Their cheeks are puffed, their noses slender ; and very commonly their
under lip is thicker and more prominent than the upper. Tlieir eyes are regular,
but without vivacity, and very different fi-om those of the women of Arabia,
which sparkle with fire. They are also ungraceful, and generally melancholy.
Such is the miserable picture, unfortunately but too true, of the women of
.Jerusalem." *

Of the few European travellers who have penetrated into the interior of the
Mosque of Omar, one of the most successful was Dr. Richardson. Not possessing
the resolution, the peculiar accomplishments, or, perhaps, the facile mind and
conscience of Ali Bey, he notwithstanding succeeded in gaining a view of the
mysterious sanctuary. For his admission, he was indebted to the gratitude of a
patient, who ventured upon showing his regard in this somewhat questionable and
perilous manner. " On our arrival at the door," says Dr. Richardson, " a gentle
knock brought up the sacristan, who, apprized of our intention, was within waiting
to receive us. He demanded rather sternly who we were, and was answered by my
black conductor in terms no less consequential than his own. The door imme-
diately edged up, to prevent as much as possible the light from shining out ; and
we squeezed ourselves in with a gentle and noiseless step, although there was no
person near, who could be alarmed by the loudest sound of our bare feet upon the
marble floor. The door was no sooner shut, than the sacristan, taking a couple of
candles in his hand, showed us all over the interior of the building, pointing, in the
pride of his heart, to the elegant marble walls, the beautifully-gilded ceiling, the
well where the true worshippers drink and wash, with which we also blessed our
palates, and moistened our beards ; the paltrj- reading-desk with the ancient
Koran ; the handsome columns, and the green stone with the wonderfiil nails. As
soon as we had completed this circuit, pulling a key fi-om his girdle, he unlocked
the door of the railing that separates the outer from the inner part of the mosque,
which, with an elevation of two or three steps, led us into the sacred recess. Here
he pointed out the patches of mosaic in the floor ; the round flat stone which the
prophet carried on his arm in battle. He also directed us to introduce one hand
through the hole in the wooden box, to feel the print of the prophet's foot, and
through the posts of the wooden rail, to feel as well as to see the marks of the
angel Gabriel's fingers (into which I carefully put my own) in the sacred stone which
occupies the centre of the mosque ; and firom which it derives the name of Sahhara,
or Locked-up, and over which is suspended a fine cloth of green and red satin."

• Voyages d'Ali Bey, t. iii. c. vii. p. 179.

2 T

162 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

The cavern described by Ali Bey was not opened for Dr. Richardson's inspec-
tion. He continued his survey, therefore, of the other parts of the edifice, as well
as the imperfect light of a few lamps would allow him. " Tlie columns and curio-
sities," he says, " were counted over again and again ; the arches were specially
examined and enumerated, that I might be sure of not missing or forgetting any of
them. Writing would have been an ungracious behaviom*, calculated to excite a
thousand suspicions, which next day would have served to swell the current of the
city gossip, to the prejudice both of myself and my friend. Having examined the
adytum, we once more touched the footstep of the prophet, and the finger-prints of
the angel Gabriel, and descended the steps, over which the door was immediately
secured."

Dr. Richardson was subsequently permitted to visit the mosque in the daytime.
His account agrees with that of Ali Be}', in the picture which it aflbrds of the
general extent and magnificence of the edifice. But there is one thing evidently
wanting in such descriptions ; the power, that is, of association ; the mingled rich-
ness and force of delineation, which can only spring from a deep feeling of affec-
tionate reverence. The picture of a religious edifice, drawn by one who has no
sentiment of awe or love connected with its mysteries, can never be depended upon.
However correct the outline, or gorgeous the colouring, it will not represent the
primitive idea ; the living thought and passion, to which the temple owes its form
in the eyes of those who really worship within its courts. Though our curiosity,
therefore, may be in some degree gratified by the accounts of travellers, penetrating
the closed sanctuary, stealing through courts and vaults which were sealed against
their approach, the information which we gain from them is of little real worth.
We still see but the wood and stones of the edifice ; and the picture presented to
us would be repudiated by any one whose associations were mixed up with its
name and history. It is the awe of invisible spirits ; of angels and prophets, per-
forming their constant service about some mysterious relic, which gives to the
temple at Mecca, as well as to that of Jerusalem, its peculiar grandeur in the eyes
of the Mussulman. The unbeliever forces his way into the sanctuary. He finds
nothing in it to repay him for the toil or the danger which he has encountered. But
while he is wondering how any of the forms or symbols, which he sees around him,
should ever have inspired such veneration, the worshipper in the temple looks on
the whole as invested with a splendour which justifies him, as it justified his fore-
fathers, in regarding the structure as worthy of angelic admiration.

The accounts given by different travellers of the antiquities of Jerusalem,
generally indicate both acuteness, and religious earnestness. But they are far too
various to furnish any distinct information to a reader not willing, or prepared to
enter into minute investigations. The happiest state of mind in respect to subjects
of this kind, is that in which the past is most readily connected with the present,
not by the degree of certainty attached to a tradition, or an argument, but by the

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 163

force of pious love ; by that faculty of the soul which gives to its associations a
glory, a substance, and reality which can never belong even to the most assured
convictions attending mere research.

Were it not for this, neither Rome, Athens, nor Jemsalem would be able to
exercise so powerful a fascination on thoughtful minds. It is not to antiquarian
research ; but to what the natural feelings of elevated souls have done for them,
that they owe their long renown. Though every stone, or marble column, could
be assigned its proper place in the rmned temple; though the steps of time
could be traced so exactly back, that they might lead us up to the very cradle of
the sublimest events, how little should we gain by all this, unless there were some
one near us, to lift up the veil which would still conceal the noblest part of the
truth — the spirit, as it were — of the great fact which it was the desire of our hearts
to contemplate ?

It is impossible to read what even the best and most ingenious travellers have
said of Jerusalem, without discovering how.little satisfied they felt when summing up
the result of their inquiries. So long as they allowed their minds to delight in the
rich enjoyment of such thoughts as the scenes around them were calculated to
excite, the best object of their pilgrimage seemed answered. But as soon as they
became occupied with minute topographical inquiries, .Jerusalem appeared to vanish
away. It no longer retained its sacred character. The spell of association was
broken ; and for the city of the great king, which had so long been enshrined in
the memory, the mind had nothing to contemplate but doubtful relics, each of
which was in its turn to be subjected to some new process of inquiry.

Had we nothing left to cherish our early love for this most venerable of cities,
but the accounts of travellers, its name would soon cease to awaken any powerful
emotion. But it has a glory of its own ; and Jerusalem is still itself Neither the
sword of the conqueror ; neither the plough-share, nor the ravages of time, can
destroy its wondrous identity, or change its destiny. It is among cities what a
sen-ant of God is among men. All the storms and billows of life may pass over
him. But while " the outward man decays, the inward man is renewed day by
day." The disposing of its lot is of the Lord ; and unlike Babylon, or Nineveh,
raised to serve a temporary purpose in the plan of providence, Jemsalem belongs
to the permanent portion of the Divine system, and can never cease to be, till all
that which is visible and symbolic shall be swallowed up in the sm^assing glories of
an eternal reality.

PLACES OF NOTE ROUND JERUSALEM.

The country immediately round the walls of Jerusalem presents an aspect of soli-
tude and desolation. Cultivation has done but little to clothe its barren hills ; and
though here and there some patches of verdure may be discovered, the scene, taken
in its general features, is one which impresses the heart with a sort of feeling that
here natiu-e has, for some mysterious purpose, been commanded for a while to with-
hold her blessing. No houses are to be seen crowning the hills, or giving a
sweet home character to the little brooks and valleys beneath them, as in other
countries. All is lone and sad; and the pilgrim on leaving the streets of Jerusalem,
seems to be entering upon an unpeopled world.

Within a short distance, however, of the city, little towns and villages exist, the
names of which are still venerable to the reader of sacred history. The intervening
solitude may well be regarded as giving the pilgrim time for pious meditation.

On leaving the city by the gate of Jaffa or Bethlehem, the traveller passes a
bridge, having to his left the hill of Evil Council. The road, which is rocky, and in
several places almost impassable, runs to the left, nearly parallel with the valley of
Rephaim. It is rendered interesting to the believer in traditions, by the numerous
objects which present themselves on the way. Thus, at a short distance from the
city, he is shown the supjiosed remains of the house of Simeon. A little further on is a
Terebinth tree, under which the Virgin Mary rested with the infant Jesus, when about
to present him in the Temple. Scarcely less affecting is the beUef, that the fountain
may still be pointed out by which the Wise IMen of the East were reclining, when
they again saw the star, and " rejoiced ^Nnth exceeding great joy." Some way further
on is the Chapel of Habakkuk ; the Monastery of Elias ; and, lastly-, Rachel's tomb.

Most of the early travellers believed the monument which surmounts this sacred
spot, to be an ancient erection. It is a small square edifice, built of stone, and
ornamented with a dome, presenting the appearance of an ordinary Turkish monu-
ment. No one now supposes it to be anything more than the tomb of some Maho-
metan saint. But Dr. Robinson* acknowledges that the general correctness of the
tradition which has fixed upon this spot as the burial-place of Rachel, cannot be
properly called in question ; and Chateaubriand,t in speaking of the locality, says,
" We perceived in the mountains, for night had come on, the lights of the village of

* Bililical Eescarclies, vol. i. p. 322. t Travels, vol. i. p. 3/6.

V- '

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fe'?.s".^:i.^aTiyCTTgj>r<^ <,

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THE CHRISTIAN IX PALESTINE. J65

Rama. Profound silence reigned around us. It was doubtless in such a night as
this, that Rachel's voice suddenly burst upon the ear: 'A voice was heard in
Rama ; lamentation and bitter weeping ; Rachel, weeping for her children, refused
to be comforted, because they were not.'* The Rama here alluded to is now a
poor and almost deserted village. Its situation upon a lofty eminence, about ten
minutes' distance from the main road, renders it an object of interest in this lonely,
mountainous district. Some remains of ancient edifices indicate its former import-
ance ; and there seems little reason to doubt but that here stood the city which,
with Gibeah and Geba in its neighbourhood, was a place of consequence in the
time of the Judges ;+ and was alluded to by Isaiah when he said: 'They are
gone over the passage. They have taken up their lodging at Geba; Ramah is
afraid ; Gibeah of Saul is fled.'" |

Bethlehem is two hours' journey from Jerusalem. The mention of its name
carries the mind far back into the depths of sacred history. As Bethlehem-Judah,
so called to distinguish it from the Bethlehem in Zabulon, it existed in the
remotest times ; and though never numbered among the larger, or more important
cities of the nation, it was celebrated from the earliest ages for the richness of its
pastures and its corn-fields. Hence its well-known epithet of Ephraiah, or the
fertile; and the frequent mention made, in the accounts of travellers, of the beauty
of the s>irrounding country. Bethlehem was the native city of several of the great
men of Israel; as of Boaz,§ Obed, Jesse, and the far more distinguished David.
But even the wonderfiil man who united in himself the two different characters of
the victorious monarch and the sweet Psidmist of Israel, could not have given it a
claim to the sublime designation of the prophet: "Thou, Beth -lehcm Ephratah,
though thou be little among the thousands of Judah, yet out of thee shall he come
forth unto me, that is to be ruler in Israel ; whose goings forth have been from of
old ; from everlasting."||

No doubt has has ever been entertained among Christians respecting this birth-
place of our Redeemer. An oratory, such as the poverty of primitive times could
afibrd, was early erected on the spot where the rude manger is supposed to have
stood in which the infant Saviour was laid. This, it is said, was destroyed by the
emperor Adrian, and an idol desecrated the place of prayer, so dear to the devout
pilgrim. H At the instance of the empress Helena, Constantine built a church
here ; but according to some authors, the emperor Justinian demolished this, to
make room for a more sumptuous edifice, and which, it is believed, survived all the
storms of the middle ages.**

* Jtatt. ii. 17. Jer. xxxi. 15. + Judges xix. 13. J Isaiuli x. 29.

§ See the book of Eutli. || Jlicah v. 2. Matt. ii. 6.

n St. Jerome says, referring to the practice of the women who came here to weep before the image
of Adonis : " In specu, ubi Christus quondam vagiit, veneris amasius plangebatur."
** Le Pere Naud, Voyage Nouveau, lib iv. p. 400.

•2 r

160 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

This venerable structure stands a little beyond the northern extremity of the
present town of Bethlehem. It is situated within the walls of a monastery, belong-
ing to the Armenians, and occupying a rocky eminence of considerable extent.
The view from the cloister embraces the Jordan, the shores of the Dead Sea ; the
hiU of Tekoah, and the wUdemess of Engeddi. No church in Palestine can rival
this of Bethlehem in antiquity;* and few equal it in beauty of decoration. Fifty
marble colmnns serve to adorn the different parts of the edifice. Splendid mosaics
fonnerly covered its walls ; and tablets, containing a summaiy of the canons passed
at the seven general councils, were placed ui conspicuous parts of the nave. Near the
altai- of the Three Magi, a marble star points out the direction in which the star in
the heavens appeared to them; and a flight of fifteen steps conducts the pilgrim
to the cave in the rock in wliich oiu: Lord was bom. This grotto is thirty-nine
feet long, eleven broad, and nine high. The walls and the floor ai-e covered with
marble. Thuty-two lamps are kept constantly burning; and a slab of white marble
bearing a silver glory, and the inscription, Hie de virgine Maria Jesus Christus
natus est, mai'ks the most sacred spot in this venerable cavern. A manger of white
marble ; an altar ; and some paintings, form a part of its decorations ; while to add
to the deep and tender feelings with which the Christian traveller can hardly fail to
be impressed, the solemn tones of an organ, and the plaintive chant, fall upon his
eai' like the voices of ancient days.

" Nothing," says the eloquent author of the Genius of Christianity, " can be
more pleasing, or better calculated to excite sentiments of devotion, than this sub-
terranean chm-ch. It is adorned with pictures of the Italian and Spanish schools.
These pictures represent the mysteries of the place; the Virgin and Child, after
Raphael ; the Annunciation ; the Adoration of the Wise Men ; the Coming of the
Shepherds ; and all those muacles of mingled grandem- and innocence. The usual
ornaments of the manger are of blue satin embroidered with silver. Incense is con-
tinually smoking before the cradle of the Sa^dour. I have heard an organ, touched
by no ordinary hand, play, during mass, the sweetest and most tender airs of the
best ItaUan composers. These concerts charm the Christian Arab, who, leaving
his camels to feed, repairs, like the shepherds of old, to Bethlehem, to adore tlie
King of kings in his manger. I have seen this inhabitant of the desert communi-
cate at the altar of the Magi, with a fervour, a piety of devotion, unknown among
the Christians of the West. ' No place in the world,' says Father Ncret, ' excites
more profound devotion. The continual anival of caravans from all the nations of
Christendom ; the public prayers ; the prostrations ; nay, even the richness of the
presents transmitted by the Christian princes, altogether produce feelings in the
soul, which it is much easier to conceive than describe.' It may be added, that the
eflfect of all this is heightened by an extraordinary contrast; for on quitting the

* Karl Von E.iumer, PalistiiKi, p. 309.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 107

crypt, where you have met with the riches, the arts, the religion of civilized nations,
you find yoiu-seU" in a profound solitude, amidst wretched Arab huts; among half-
naked savages ; and faithless Mussulmans. This place is, nevertheless, the scene
where so many miracles were displayed ; but the land dares no longer express its joy,
and locks within its bosom the recollections of its glory."*

At a little distance from the cave of the Nativity, is that in which St. Jerome passed
so many years of study and devotion. Among the numerous pictures which the
history of early C'lrristianity presents to the mind, few can equal in interest, or
beauty, that of this holy man, pondering in his little cell, over the Hebrew Scrip-
tm'es. With a mind as acute and capacious, as it was devout. Saint Jerome had
retreated from the world in the prime of manhood ; and despising the corniiJtions
and low ambition which he discovered even among churchmen, had resolved to
spend the remainder of his life in solitude. But it was not in selfish repose that he
wished to pass his days. He had a vocation as important as that of the most con-
spicuous characters of the age. The word of God was then but imperfectly known
to the great body of Christians. Few could read the Greek manuscripts of the New
Testament ; fewer still the Hebrew of the Old. A very imperfect Latin version of
the Scriptures existed ; but it was little respected. Saint .Jerome knew the wants
of the people. He understood how important it was that both they and the clergy
should have the means of a ready a])peal to God's word. He felt these convictions
to be a call; and from thenceforward he gave himself up to the labour of collation
and translating. Securing the aid of the most able men in Palestine, he travelled up
and down the country, collecting information, and seizing upon every opportunity
which offered for improving himself in the critical study of Hebrew. When he had
good reason to believe that his knowledge was sufficient for the purpose, he set
himself down in his cave, and with the Hebrew manuscripts before liim, began that
version of the Scriptures which supplied the Churcli, for so many ages, with the
light of divine revelation. Had the Christian world, indeed, been ready to employ
the means of knowledge with which St. Jerome thus supplied it, those long seasons
of darkness, which break like yawning chasms, the succession of evangelical ages,
would never have occurred. Posterity, and even oiu- own times, jealous as we are
in the cause of Scriptural truth, entertain little regard for Saint Jerome in propor-
tion to that which he deser\es. The Latin version which he made for his days was
as precious as that of Luther for the Germans, or that of Wickliffc, or of Tindal and
Coverdale, for England. Who then can think, without a feeling of reverential love,
of Jerome in his cave at Bethlehem ? of that wise and foreseeing spirit which
taught him to devote his life and his genius to such a labour ?

But Jerome mingled with the severest labours of the scholar, those of tlie most
devout and active of Christians. His cave at Bethlehem was sought by crowds of

* Travels in Palestine, part iii.

168 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

pilgrims, who liad either from choice or necessity fled from the agitated pro\'iuces
of the West. Jerome gave them counsel, and, as far as possible, relieved their
wants. When his resources failed, he mingled his tears and his prayers with those
of his afflicted brethren, and taught them by his own example, at how little cost a
man may live, and how sublimely independent he may be of the world, when he has
experimentally learnt the great truth, " Man shall not live by bread alone, but by
everv word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God."* The delight which he
experienced in his solitude, surrounded by so many objects of sacred memory, is
fervently expressed in the letters which he addressed to his friends. Impressed
with the feeling thus inspired, he exclaimed, " O wdderness, always covered with
the flowers of Jesus Christ ! O solitude, where the stones that are made use of to
build the city of the Great King, are to be found ! O, happy retirement, where
men may have familiar conversation ^yith God ! What are you about, my brother,
in the world? How long will you dwell under the shadow of houses? When will
you leave the prison of smoking cities ? What do you fear in these solitary places'?
Is it poverty ? Jesus Christ calls the poor happy. Does labour alarm you ? Can
he that takes a part in the public games be crowned before he has fought ? Do
you fear hard diet ? A lively faith dreads not hunger. Do you shrink from the
thought of lying on the bare gi-ound ? Remember that Jesus Christ rests there
with you. Are you terrified at the extent of this wild and awful solitude ? Paradise
is open to you."

Jerome lived to a gieat age. When death approached, he said to his friends and
scholars who gathered round him : " Do you come to announce that the hour of my
departure is at hand ? O, happy news ! Precious is the moment which will render
me for ever free ! Death has no terrors but for the wicked. Christ having endured
it, the believer may rejoice even in the midst of a thousand tortures. Do you wish,
my friends, to find it such as I thus describe it ? Exercise repentance ; mortify
your passions ; learn to hate j'ourselves, and to love only Jesus Christ : you will then
one day experience bow sweet it is to die, when a man has known how to live well."
Such were the sentiments which Jerome had leai-nt.in his cave at Bethlehem. He
was buried near the spot where he had spent so many years of his hfe. His grave
is still pointed out. Near it are those of his two friends, Paula, and her daughter
Eustochiura, ladies, according to what we learn of them from his own writings, of
extraordinary virtue, and whose example in the way of active chaiity, shows, like
that of Jerome's own, how little these early saints thought of allowing even a life of
ascetic retirement to justify a neglect of Christian duties.

Bethlehem and its inhabitants have had their full share of the afflictions which
have fallen upon the country at large. Though the population consists entirely ol
Christians, it is far from distinguished for its meekness or tranquillity. The Beth-

* Matt. iv. 4.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. lt;9

lehemites were foremost in the struggle of 1834 ; and they suffered accordingly
when the Egyptians triumphed.

It is by the gate of Saint Stephen that the traveller enters on the road to Bethany.
After passing the brook Cedron, and reaching the garden of Gethsemane, the path
turns to the right, and forms for some way a steep ascent, till it descends into a
valley on the left. It was a little beyond this that our Lord beheld the fig-tree,
upon which he pronounced his malediction, constituting it as a sign, not only of
the reprobate nation which had so long despised the riches of the goodness of (Jod;
but of all who should, in whatever age of the world living, remain unfruitful under
the dew of his blessing. The village of Bethany is about half-an-hour distant from
Jerusalem.* It is inhabited by a few poor Arabs. The objects of interest are the
supposed sites of the house of Martha and Mary, and that of Mary Magdalene.
The grave of Lazarus is also pointed out. A descent by thirty steps leads into the
cavern ; and a little altar marks the spot in which he is said to have reposed, when
the voice of Him who is the resurrection and the life reached his startled spirit, and
brought it back to the fast corrupting body.

Bethany was regarded with great veneration by the early Christians, and a church
existed there in the fourth centur)'. At a somewhat later period, an extensive
monastery was founded in Bethany ; and in the twelfth century, queen Melisinda,
the consort of Fulco, king of Jerusalem, established a convent there, and placed at
its head her sister Jutta as abbess. The peculiar advantages enjoyed by this insti-
tution soon rendered it celebrated as one of the noblest and wealthiest in Palestine.
Jutta's rank added no sliglit grace to her virtues in the popular estimation ; and
even pious souls could behold with peculiar delight a king's daughter devoting her-
self to the ministry of holy things. The convent had been founded, according to
the spirit of the age, with the feehng that its royal benefactors would secure to them-
selves, by this act of devotion and munificence, the abundant blessing of Heaven.
Such were the gifts and endowments poured upon this favoured institution, that it
not only surpassed other similar establishments in riches, but enjoyed a greater
degree of opulence than the most flourishing of the Syrian churches.f Possessing
certain territorial rights, it received a large income from Jericho, and the surround-
ing lands. The appearance of the convent corresponded to its wealth. Jewels and
precious stones glittered on the sacred vessels of its altars, and on the robes of its
ministering priests. A lofty tower, built with singular care, and remarkable for its
strength as a fortress, rose above its walls, and betokened the power which could be
employed against any enemy who might dare to approach the precincts of the
sanctuary. For some few generations, this magnificent convent retained the cha-
racter for mingled piety, splendour, and romance, imposed upon it by the spirit and
circumstances of the age. With the troubles which came upon the kingdom of Je-

• Karl von Eaumer, Paliistina, p. 305. t Wilken, Geschichte der Kreuzzuge, b. ii. p. 617-

•2 X

170 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

msalcm it rapidly declined ; and in the course of two or three centuries from its
foundation it had wholly disappeared.*

The fate of this interesting monastery was that of most of the institutions of the
middle ages in the Holy Land. They rose in the strength of that spirit of fervent
devotion which gave grandeur and beauty to whatever it created. But with the
decUne of the faith, to the energies of which they owed their existence, they were
deprived of the shield which guarded them. The ordinary elements of change then
began to operate with full force upon their walls and bidwarks : the innermost
recesses of the sanctuary were laid open to the rude hand of the destroyer; and not
a trace remained after a few ages, of that peculiar and- solemn majesty which
originally belonged to the monuments of the early dominion of the Christians in
Palestine.

Some places of less importance than those above described lie within a little dis-
tance of their locality. Thus, the ancient Bethphage is spoken of as situated
between Bethany and the scene of our Lord's ascension. But not a trace can be
discovered of its former celebrity-t The loose stones which lie about are the
remains of the most ordinary kind of buildings ; but the situation of the original
village must have been highly romantic. It derived its name from occupying a
spot just at the mouth of the wUd, deep valley running at the bottom of the Mount
of Olives. Tradition speaks of it as the place to which the priests delighted to
■ retire in ancient times to refresh themselves after their fatiguing services in the
Temple. According to another account, it was here that the victims, intended for
sacrifice were kept, till the time arrived for conveying them to Jerusalem ; and
hence the pious ingenuity of some of the old travellers have found a reason for onr
Lord's proceeding from this village, when about to offer up himself as a sacrifice
for the sins of the world. Thus also the custom was introduced by some of the
monastic orders, of making a solemn procession, on Palm-Sunday, from Bethphage
to the holy city. The pride and jealousy of the Mussulmans obliged the friars to
aboUsh this ceremony. 'When the ambassador of France, in the early part of the
eighteenth century, sought permission of the Turkish government to renew the
practice, his request was graciously granted; but the governor of Jerusalem earnestly
persuaded him not to expose either his own person, or the lives of the monks, to the
fury of the people, by such a proceeding. The advice of the governor, we are told,
was prudently taken.

Solomon's Pools, already described, he to the south of Bethlehem. To the
south-east may be seen the ruins of a castle, built probably in the times of the
Crusades, and occupying a rocky eminence; near which stood the ancient Thekoa,

* The German traveller Schubert, says, that he nowhere about Jerusalem saw so many pilgrims
from various countries of the East assembled together, with an appearance of amity, as in the poor
Lttle village of Betliany. Reise in das Moigenland, b. ii. p. 570,

t Karl von Raumer, Palilstina, p. 305. Pere de Naud, Voyage Nouveau, lib. iii. p. 277.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 171

built by Rehoboam, and the native place of the prophet Amos. There too he was
buried, and the remains of a chiu-ch still point out the place of his sepulture.*

By pursuing the road for a short way to the north-west of Bethlehem, we reach
the valley rendered so remarkable by the destruction of the host of Sennacherib :
" And it came to pass that night, that the angel of the Lord went out, and smote in
the camp of the Assyrians an hundred four score and five thousand." f

Here is situated the village of Buteschella,! which is supposed to occupy the site of
the ancient Bezech, a royal city of the tribe of Judah. It is considered one of the
most beautiful spots in the whole district, and, by a strange superstition on the part
of the Tui-ks, the Christian inhabitants of the place are left to enjoy its beauties
undisturbed. According to the common belief of the Mussulmans, no one belonging
to their faith can live in Buteschella more than two years. At the end of that
period, some fatal spell which has been pronounced there against the followers of
the prophet will take effect; and the terror thus inspired is found to be a most
powerfid defence for the Greeks and others who have made this village their home.

About a league and a half distant from Buteschella, at the foot of the mountain
of Bethsur, tradition points out the fountain in which, it is said, Philip baptized the
eunuch. A church formerly stood here, but it is now in ruins; and it seems to be
a matter of doubt whetlier the tradition referred to is worthy of belief.^ The valley
itself is called the Vale of Eshcol, and at the further end, on a gentle ascent, the
vineyard is shown which early travellers fondly believed was the same as that from
which, in the days of Moses, the spies gathered the grapes which they carried to the
tents of their countrymen. Close by is the little village of St. Philip, or Elwalige ; and
about a mile distant, stands the convent of St. John the Baptist, in the midst of the
desert known by his name. Pococke visited this spot, and gives a particular
account of the objects which have contributed to render the neighbourhood interest-
ing to Christians from the earliest period of their faith. " The convent is situated,"'
he says, " on a low hill, among the mountains, and-is governed by a guardian. It
is occupied by about fourteen monks ; and the church is said to be built on the
spot where Zachariah's house stood, in which Saint John the Baptist was born.
The altar is finely adorned with relief's. We went to visit the remarkable places in

* Schubert, Reise in das Morgenland, b. iii. p. 26. t 2 Kings xix. 35.

t Eugene Roger, La Terre Saincte, liv. i. p. 181. Karl von Raunicr, Paliistina, p. 312.

§ Karl von Raunier, Paliistina, 179,180. (note.) Dr. Robinson says, " Tliis certainly cannot have
been the water at which the eunuch was baptized ; for he was driving in his cliariot towards Gaza, and
never could have passed on this route." — Biblical Researches, vol. i. p. 320. Sandys says, " It seemeth
strange unto me, that a chariot should be able to pass those rocky and declining mountains, where
almost a horse can hardly keep footing." — P. 182. Pococke observes, "that the way does not seem
passable for wheel-carriages;" but adds, "that there is a very good road on tlie other side of the
valley." — P. 45. Karl von Raumer strongly opposes Dr. Robinson's notions ; and says, " that to seek
the place of the eunuch's baptism at Tell El-Hasi, is to contradict the Scripture narrative, and a tra-
dition which has prevailed from the eaihest days of Christianity." — Beitnige zur Bibhscheu Geo-
graphie, p. 49.

172 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

the desert, which chiefly consists of high hills, enclosing deep and narrow valleys.
Oiir course was southward along the valley for half-a quarter of a mile, to the
fountain of the blessed Virgin ; of which, it is said, she drank during the three
months she stayed here. We then went up the side of a hill, at the end of the
vallev ; and having ascended a little way, came to the church which is said to be
on the spot where the country-house of Zachariah stood ; the other before-men-
tioned being his house in the town. Here, they say, the blessed Virgin lived three
months ; and the stairs are shown, on which they have a tradition, that Elizabeth
met her. They lead to a grot, which, they say, was their habitation at that time.
We then turned to the west ; and went along the side of a hill, having a valley to
the right ; and saw a stone on which, it is said, Saint John preached. Going about
a mile fiurther, we came to the grot of St. John, to which, they sav, Elizabeth fled
with him, on the cniel desire of Herod to destroy the young children. Tradition
says, that Ehzabeth died when he was three years old ; and that he continued to
inhabit this giot, till he was thirty years of age ; when he went into the desert, near
Jordan, to preach and baptize. We went higher up the hill, a little further to the
west, and came to a large grotto, which they call the sepidchre of Elizabeth. On the
hill, opposite to the grotto of St. John, is a village which, if I mistake not, they call
the village of St. John, or of the desert; and to the north-west, is a village on a lofty
hill, called Zerba, which, some say, was Modin, where the Maccabees were bom and
interred ; but this seems to be an error, as that place was in the tribe of Dan. In
this desert there are many caroub-trees, which bear a fruit like a bean ; but it is
flatter, and has small seeds in it. They eat the shell of it, when it is dry, which is
very agreeable. It is supposed that this is the locust on which Saint John fed, and
not the cassia Jistula, which has been shown for it, and does not grow in the
countr)'. Some, however, are of opinion, that the locusts which he fed on, were
those insects preserved with salt. The Arabs, it is said, eat them, in some parts at
this time ; and the opinion is conflrmed by the Arabic trjuislation of the passage in
the gospel, though there might be a tree of that name."*

Few passages could be selected from the writings of the venerable Sandys, "Poet
and Traveller," more characteristic of his genius, than his account of John the
Baptist's grotto. "This cave," he says, "is seated on the northern side of a desert
mountain, (only beholding to the locust-tree,) hewn out of the precipitating rock, so
as diflicult to be ascended, or descended to; entered at the east comer, and re-
ceiving light from a window in the side. At the upper end there is a bench of the
self-same rock, whereon, as they say, he accustomed to skep : of which whoso
breaks a piece ofi", stands forthwith excommunicate. Over this, on a little flat, stand
the niins of a monastery, on the south side, naturally walled with the steep of the

* Description of the East, Observations on Palestine, vol. i. p. 46. Eugene Roger, La Terre Saincte,
liv. i. 'p. 183.
+ A Relation of a Journey, 1615, lib. iii. p. 183.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 173

mountain ; from whence there gusheth a living spring ; which entereth the rock, and
again burstcth forth beneath the mouth of the cave, a place that would make solita-
riness delightful, and stand in comparison with the turbulent pomp of cities. This
overlooketh a profound valley, on the far side hemmed with aspiring mountains." *

Among the rocky fastnesses of this district, but somewhat nearer the supposed
site of the ancient Tekoa, is a place called " the Labyrinth," or in Arabic Elmaama.
The mountains here rise almost perj^endiculai'ly above the valley ; and the cavern,
which has given a name to the spot, is supported by huge natural pillars, the roof in
several places presenting the appearance of domes. A common tradition prevails,
that thirty thousand people once found shelter in this vast grotto from the pesti-
lential blasts of some hot, tempestuous wind, which seemed to sweep the land hke a
messenger of destruction. t The peculiar character of this district, and the grotto
thus described, has given rise to the belief that it was one of the strongholds oi
Engaddi, in which David sought shelter from the pursuit of Saul ; and that here
might be the very cave in which David cut off the skirt of his furious persecutor. J It
is objected, § however, to this opinion, that the real AduUam is enumerated among
the cities of the plain of Judah ; and that both Eusebius and Jerome place it in
the vicinity of Eleutheropolis, to the west of the mountains.

* A Relation of a Journey, 1615, lib. iii. p. 183.

t Poeofke, Description of the East, vol. ii. p. 41.

t Eugene Roger : La TeiTe Saincte, liv. i. p. 177. Pococke, vol. ii. p. 42.

§ Robinson, vol. ii. p. 175. Schubert supports the common opinion, and refers both to the general
appearance of the fastness, and to the remains of a little Christian church formerly standing here.
Reise in das Morgenland, b. iii. p. 32.

JERICHO AND THE DEAD SEA.

After passing by Bethany, and the fountain, at which it is said Christ and his
apostles drank, in their journey between Jerusalem and Jericho, the road leads past a
mosque, which the Arabs are said to believe marks the mysterious spot near which
the great lawgiver of the Jews was buried. " Having ascended a hill to the north,
and proceeded about two miles, we came," says Pococke, " to a small round valley,
called the field of Adonim or Adomin, that is to say, the ' field of blood,' because,
according to common report, frequent murders and robberies were committed there ;
and those who look at the parable in St. Luke as referring to an actual occurrence,
suppose that the person who was going from Jerusalem to Jericho, "was robbed here,
though the narrative may allude to any part of a road remarkable for robberies. We
found this vale and the hUls about it covered with grass. Ascending a hUl, we came
to a ruined khan ; and a little further up, to another, where, it is said, pilgrims
formerly lodged the first night from Jerusalem, this being considered about half
way to the river Jordan. We then passed by another vale ; and passing over a
rocky mountain, had a view of the plain of Jericho, which is part of the great plain
on both sides of Jordan, extending fi-om the lake of Tiberias to the Dead Sea."
The whole of the road here is peculiarly wild. Rocky precipices and watercourses
oblige the pilgrim to pursue his path with caution.* But natui-al objects of surpass-
ing grandeur everywhere meet his eye ; and as he looks towards the west he beholds
that long range of gloomy mountains known by the name of the Quaraiana, because
it was among them, according to early beUef, our Lord passed his forty days of
fasting, and the terrible season of temptation. " This," says Pococke, " seems to
be the chain of hills mentioned by Josephus,t as extending from Scythopolis
towards Tiberias, to the further end of the Dead Sea, and possibly as far as
Idumaea."!

Some ruined buildings and grottos are met with in this part of the road. A little
chapel which stands in the neighbourhood of the latter, is accounted so sacred that
even the Christian pilgrim is not ordinarily allowed to enter it. It is supposed to
mark the spot on the mountain where our Lord stood when the devil showed Him

• « ■

'Jordan runneth well nigh thirty miles from Jerusalem. The way thither by Bethany made long
and troublesome by the steep descents and labyriiithiau windings, being to the judgment of the eye
not the fourth of the distance." — Sandys, p. 197.

t De Bello Jud. iv. 8. J Observations, vol. i. p. 31.

"1^

THB CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 175

all ihe kingdoins of the world and the glory of them. Not far fi'om this is the
fountain of Elisha, now a comparatively shallow spring, but the water of which
is said to be soft and tepid.

Jericho is situated little more than a mile from this fountain, the waters of which
were liealed and made fruitful by the prophet, in answer to the prayer of the in
habitants of the neighbouring city. A square tower is seen, which tradition pre-
tends stands on the site of the house of Zacchaeus ; and by a still larger demand
upon credulity, the tree is shown on which he is said to have climbed to see Christ.
The village, which is generally supposed to occupy the place of the ancient Jericho,
consists of a few unimportant buildings, and has, in itself, no pretensions to the
veneration of the pilginm. In former times, the country round this city was cele'
brated for its fertility and lloral beauty. " It was a city of fame," says Sandys,
speaking of Jericho, " beautiful in her palms, but chiefly proud of her halsamuvi, a
plant then thought particular unto Jurie, which grew most plentifully in this valley,
and on the sides of the western mountains which confine it ; growing upright, and
yeai-ly pruned of her superfluous branches. In the summer they lance the rind with
a stone, (not to be touched with Steele,) but not deeper than the inward film, for
otherwise it forthwith perished ; from whence those fragrant and precious tears did
distil which now are only brought us from India."* The same old author remarks,
that there remained two orchards planted with this precious shrub, in the days of
Vespasian, and that a battle was fought to protect them against the efforts of the
Jews to deprive the enemy of the fragrant spoil. Such was the value set upon the
balsam of Jericho, that both Pompey and Titus presented it in their triumphs as an
especial emblem of the value of their victories.f

Among later travellers, Dr. Robinson has given the most careful and interesting
account of Jericho and its environs. J According to the narrative of this always
instructive writer, the present village of Eriha, " a degenerate shoot, both in name
and character, of the ancient Jericho," is situated in the midst of a vast plain,
and is strikingly like some of the villages in Egj'pt. The surroiniding country
is naturally fertile; and might, by careful cultivation and imgation, be made
abundantly productive- But Dr. Robinson states that it is now almost desert;
while the \'illage itself is the most miserable and filthy that he met with in
Palestine. " The houses, or hovels, are merely four walls of stones taken
from ancient ruins, and loosely thrown together, with flat roofs of com-stalks
or brushwood, spread over with gravel." These miserable buildings, it is added,
stand in irregular positions, at large intervals from each other, each being sur-

• Travels, lib. iiu p. 198.

+ " This countr)'," says Josephus, " also produces honey froin bees. It also bears that balsam wliich
is the most precious of all the fruits in that place. Cypress-trees, also, and those that bear myrobala-
num ; so that he who should pronounce this place to be di\-ine would not be mistaken, so many trees
being produced here which are rare and of the most excellent sort." — De Bello Jud. lib. iv. c. 8.

i Biblical Researches, voL ii. p. 279.

I'O THE CHRISTIAN I.\ PALESTINE.

rounded by a 3'ai'd, enclosed with a liedge of the dry, thorny boughs of tlie nubk.
The whole village is hedged round in a similar manner, the branches of the plant
thus employed forming an impenetrable barrier to the attacks of any ordinaiy
assailant. Only one solitary palm-tree, it is said, now rears its head near the spot
where once stood the "city of palm-trees;"* and wanting must the mind be in
thought, which can reflect even on this single circumstance without feeling how
solemn a thing it is for a city, a people, or nation to disregard the decrees of the
Most High !

The atmosphere of Jericho is hot aud heavy. In the journey between Jerusalem
and this place, a distance computed at about five or six hours, the traveller passes*
it is said, " from a pure and temperate air, into the sultrj^ heat of an Egyptian cli-
mate." This is readily accounted for by the fact, that Jericho and the valley of
the Jordan, are situated several hundred feet below the level of the sea ; and even
three thousand feet lower than Jerasalem. At ten o'clock in the forenoon, while
sitting under a retired and spreading fig-tree, near running water, and with a refi-esh-
ing breeze blowing around the spot, Dr. Robinson found the thermometer, in the
shade, standing at 86°. The heat in the tent, he adds, notwithstanding the breeze,
and the partial obscuring of the sun, became insupportable. At two o'clock in the
afternoon the thermometer rose to 102°; while another under the shade of a fig-tree
stood at 91°.t So unhealthy is Jericho considered, that few strangers can resist its
influence for more than a few weeks ; and, according to the Arabs, to lodge a single
night in the village is often found a dangerous experiment. Notwithstanding, there-
fore, the beauty of the surrounding scenes, and the fine corn-fields in the neigh-
bourhood, an air of melancholy pervades the place, and the stranger cannot help
reflecting on that solemn denunciation; "And Joshua adjured them at that time,
saying, Cursed be the man before the Lord, that riseth up, and buildeth this city
Jericho : He shall lay the foundation thereof in his first-bom, and in his youngest
son shall he set up the gates of it." X The warning thus solemnly pronounced was
sufficient to deter ambition or avarice from daring to re-occupy the accursed site ;
but in the days of King Ahab " did Hiel the Beth-elite build Jericho. He laid the
foundation thereof in Abiram his first-born ; and set up the gates thereof in his
youngest son Segub, according to the word of the Lord, vvliich he spake by Joshua
the son of Nun." § Hiel's sin seems to have consisted in his daring attempt to
falsify the divine word, or resist the decrees of providence. A city in this imme-
diate neighbourhood, spoken of as " the City of Palm-trees," existed in the time of
the Judges ■ If and it is mentioned by name in the reign of David. Whether this

* Deut. xxxiv. 3. Judges i. 16.

t This remarkable fact is mentioned by Dr. Robinson ; bnt lie remarKS that the real AduUam is
enumerated among tlie cities of the plain of Jmlah ; aud Eusebitis aud Jerome place it in the vicinity
of Eleutheropolis, west of the mountains. Vol. ii. p. 175.

t Joshua vi. 20. § 1 Kings xvi. 34. H Judges iii. 13.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. ] 77

city occupied the same site as that of a later period, may be matter of doubt ; but
there seems no question as to the abandonment of the locality on which the ancient
Jericho was built. It was probably considered a sufficient proof of reverence for the
denunciation pronounced by Joshua, that the accursed spot was avoided ; but if
that which travellers state respecting the present state and character of the inhabi-
tants of Jericho be true, the divine blessing has not been bestowed on those who
have ventured so near that which ought to have been consigned to desolation. In
no part of Palestine does greater licentiousness of manners prevail than among the
people of Riha; and sloth and poverty are their characteristic attendants.

Schubert observes that in the immediate neighbourhood of the little fortress, or
tower, fragments of pillars and broken architraves may still be seen ; but he con-
fesses that the pilgrim Ln vain endeavours to determine to what buildings they may
have belonged. Somewhere in this locality stood the Amphitheatre and Hippo-
drome in which Herod displayed the magnificence of his taste, and wliich he would
fain have made the scene of an act scarcely paralleled even in the stories of ancient
tyranny. ''SMiile raving under the tortures of his dying agony, he had still sufficient
command of reason to plot the massacre of the most eminent men of his nation.
By his direction they were to be invited to a feast in the Amphitheatre ; and as soon
as his death took place, the swords of his guards were to be drawn upon them, and
sacrifice them to his insatiable hatred of mankind.* To the north of the village are
some ruins, supposed to be those of Phasaelis, a tower built by Herod, and so
named after his brother, Phasaelus ; or of the fortresses, Thrax and Taurus, also
erected by Herod for the defence of the district.

From the summit of a jutting precipice, overhanging the neighbouring valley, a
noble view is obtained of the plains of Jericho, watered by the fountain of Elisha,
and extending to the green banks of the Jordan. Was not Gilgal situated near this
spot ? it has been asked. Though now not a trace can be discovered of that
ancient city, the pious traveller attaches a deep interest to its name. It was a type,
says Schubert, of Jerusalem itself; the first resting-place of the ark of the cove-
nant. There, the hosts of Israel celebrated their first passover in the land or
promise, and renewed the covenant of their fathers with Jehovah. Like Bethel,
Gilgal was a place where the powers of the spiritual world drew near to the inhabi-
tants of this lower sphere. There it was, that the prince of the hosts of the Lord
appeared to Joshua ; that the schools of the prophets, of Ehjah and Elisha, were
established ; that Samuel judged the people. But so entirely has eveiy relic of
Gilgal disappeared, that, important as it once was, it is now even questioned,

• He called for his sister Salome, and her hushand Ale.xis, and thus addressed them : " I know well
enough that the Jews will keep a festival at my death. But I can secure mourners, and a spUndid
funeral, if you will obey my commands. Send for soldiers ; encompass these men that are now in
custody, and slay them as soon as I expire. Then will all Judjea, and especially their families, weep,
whether they will or no." — De Belle, lib. i. c. xxxiii.

178 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

wliether there ever existed any city so called ; and whether the name was not that of
a district, rather than of a town or village.* Whatever it might have been before the
Babylonish captivity, it is certain that after that period, Gilgal was no longer known
among the great cities of the land.t Its position is very distinctly stated by the
sacred writer : " The people came up out of Jordan on the tenth day of the first
month, and encamped in Gilgal, in the east border of Jericho." t Neither tradi-
tion, however, nor the present inhabitants of the valley of the Jordan, can afford any
inforaiation as to the fate of Gilgal.

The road from Jericho to the banks of the Jordan, is described as presenting
many lovely scenes of fertility. Corn-fields, and flowery thickets, still afford proofs
of what the land was, when it first displayed its glory to the people whose it was by
divine inheritance and covenant. The song of birds, the cheerful note of the lark,
the pathetic warbling of the nightingale, the munnurs of the winds and waters,
mingling together in exquisite harmony, serve to give an inexpressible chann to the
thoughts of the pilgrim as he pursues his solitary way. At the distance of about
an hour and a half from Jericho,§ the banks of the Jordan are seen covered with
thick bushes and trees, the water here and there sparkling between them, and
awakening a multitude of solemn associations in the mind of the traveller. He be-
holds, in imagination, the hosts of the Lord passing over the bed of the stream
to take triumphant possession of their land. As this magnificent pageant passes
away, his eye seems to rest upon the form of Elijah, at that solemn moment when,
conversing with his servant Elisha, "he took his mantle, and wrapped it together,
and smote the waters;" and when as they still went on, " there appeared a chariot
of fire, and horses of fire, and parted them both asunder: and Elijah went up by a
whirlwind into heaven ;"|| and then upon the enraptured Elisha, gazing after the
wondrous and glorious vision, and exclaiming, " My father, my father ! the chariot
of Israel, and the horsemen thereof."1I Nor will even tliis magnificent pageant in
the progi-ess of heavenly dispensations, satisfy the memory. It feels that some-
thing still sublimer is to come ; and there, accordingly, the eye of faith rests on
the form of the Redeemer, submitting to the baptism of John, while the visible
power of truth and divine love, and the voice of the Eternal Father, proclaim his
glory.

* Biblical Researches, vol. ii. p. 287. Josephus says that the word Gilgal denotes liberty ; and that
the place was so called, because the people having passed over Jordan, regarded themselves as freed
from the miseries wliich they endured in Egypt, and in the wilderness. Whiston observes, "I agree
here with Dr. Bernard, and approve of Josephus's interpretation of Gilgal for Liberty." — Josephus's
Antiq. b. V. c. i. s. 11.

+ The Gilgal mentioned in Nehemiah xii. 29 ; and in 1 Mace. ix. 2, is supposed to have been that
near Antipatris, in the western plain. — lb. 287.

+ Joshua iv. 19.
Schubert, Reise in das Morgenland. Dr. Robinson states the distance to be about two hours.
Researches, vol. ii. p. 287

II 2 Kings ii. 8—11, 11 2 Kings ii. 12.

-sw

^V'

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 179

Pilgrims ill all ages, and from all nations, have flocked devoutly to the banks oi
the Jordan, and have experienced a holy delight in contemplating the scenes amid
which the Saviour was first manifested to his people. The road liom this part of
the river to the Dead Sea is wild and rugged. Lovely as is the spot knonn
as the bathing-place of the pilgrims, the path immediately beyond it is utterly void
of interest. The river itself, which, at the point described, is about thirty paces
broad, and adorned with sylvan beauty, soon narrows to ten paces, and becomes a
shallow, muddy stream, running between banks of barren sand, and presenting not
a single feature of its earlier grandeur. Mr. Stephens says, that he followed its
course as nearly as the cracks and guUies of the road would allow ; that for the last
tvvo or three miles it runs between perpendicular banks of sand, from five to ten
feet high ; and that then its waters become corrupted by the pestiferous influence of
the bituminous lake, in which it soon after is lost.*

Nothing in nature is associated with more painful imaginations than the Dead
Sea. Its name conjures ujj a troop of spectral forms rising from the gloomiest of
the graves of buried ages, and telling of the darkest of their deeds. The power of
such scenes to affect the mind, is singularly felt on the shores of this melancholy
lake. Not a thought, it is probable, of anything that is bright or good, ever
mingled itself with the feelings excited by the contemplation of its silent and
mysterious depths. Strange stories have been told of what its waves conceal ; and
of the glimpses which the stranger wandering on its shore has sometimes caught of
the doomed cities beneath. However little the credit due to these vague and un-
certain traditions, they serve to increase the awe which the general character of the
scene inspires. The bold course of modern entei-prise will probably mark out, be-
fore any distant time, a path around this sea. But, hitherto, it has continued so
engulphed in gloom and mystery, that its further shores are as little known as the
innermost deserts of Africa. Nor is it only since the dark ages, or since the time
when no interest was felt in exact geographical inquiry, that the Dead Sea, has so
awakened curiosity without the prospect of its being satisfied. Ancient authors
speak of it in language which shows that it had been the subject of investigation
among the learned men of their age. Strabo alludes particularly to the traditions
which prevailed respecting it in his time ; t and Diodorus Siculus describes it with
all the terrible characteristics assigned it by the most awe-stricken of later writers.
" The shores of the lake are so burning hot," he says, " by reason of the beds of sulphur
in which they abound ; and the stench which arises from the brimstoue, and the
bituminous masses sent up from the lake, is of such a dreadful natme, that the inha-

* Incidents of Travel, chap, xxxii.

t " Ut lis fides haberi posse videatur, quaj ab indigenis prsedicantnr in hoc loco tredecim urbes
olim habitatas fuisse, quaruni caput Sodoma adhuc sexaginta stadiorum habcat superstitum ambitum :
terrae autem treraoribus et ignis aquaiumque calidarum et bituminosarum ac sulphureanim eruptione
extitisse lacum, saxa ignem concepisse, uibiura alias absorptas, alias ab iis, quicunque fugerc potue-
i-unt derelictas."— Georg. lib. xvi. p. 1087. Ed. Ox. 1807.

ISO THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

bitants of the neighbourhood are very unhealthy and short-lived."* Josephus, after
speaking of the properties of the lake, and of the vast quantity of bitumen which it
produces, adds, that the country round about it, now arid and waste, was once a
happy land, glorious both for its fertility, and its wealthy cities. The marks of the
divine fire, by which it \vas scourged for the sins of its inhabitants, might still be
traced ; the shadows of the ancient cities had not altogether vanished ; and the
apples of Sodom afforded an emblem which the rudest mind could not fail to under-
stand, t

Le Pere de NaudJ twice visited the shores of the Dead Sea, and in the course of
his pilgrimage became acquainted with the pious abbot of the Monasteiy of St.
S.aba. This venerable old man had spent a large portion of his hfe on the shores of
the Dead Sea, and from him Le Pere de Naud learnt some interesting particulars
respecting the country around it. The abbot told him, that he had been enabled
some few years before, to make the circuit- of the lake, under the guidance of the
friendly Arabs who occasionally visited his monastery. As he was pursuing his
journey along the western side of the sea, he saw a number of those trees, spoken
of by the ancients, as the trees of Sodom. They were about the height, and had
the general appearance of fig-trees. The fruit which they bore were of the colour
and form of hmes, and its beauty tempted both the eye and hand. No sooner, how-
ever, did the traveller grasp the prize, than its deceptions character was discovered.
In some cases, the apparently delicious fruit was dry and empty as a sponge ; in
others, the arid skin broke, and a mass of black dust poured out. § The good
abbot on being shown one of the common maps of Palestine, informed Le Pere de
Naud, that the Dead Sea was not correctly described in the chart; that the southern
extremity of the lake was not terminated in a point, but that it consisted of a small
body of water, fonning a sort of oval, and connected with the rest of the lake by a
very narrow channel. He added, that the water was here so shallow as scarcely to
reach above the knee of a person fording it ; and that the plains immediately be-
yond, were bounded by mountains of salt.

Some interesting accounts were given by the abbot respecting the inhabitants of
the district on the other side of the lake. The country at some Uttle distance to
the East, was rich and fertile ; containing several villages, and affording numerous
proofs of its having been fonuerly under Christian domination. Churches were still
existing ; and the people for the most part, professed themselves behevers in the
gospel. So little care, however, had been taken of these members of the church,

* Lib. xLx. c. vi. t De Bell. lib. iv. c. viii. J Voyage Nonvean, liv. iv. p. 379.

§ Eugene Roger also mentions tlie same trees, as growing on the western side of the lake.— La
Terre Saincte, liv. i. c. xvii. p. 187. Pococke says that he saw nothing of this kind, and hazards the
conjecture that these apples of Sodom may be pomegranates, which having a tough, hard rind, and
being left on the trees two or three years, the inside may be dried to dust, while the outside still
retains its beautiful and blooming look. — Observations on Palestine, vol. ii. part i. p. 37.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 181

that they were entii'ely dependent for what instruction they received, and even for
the rite of baptism, on the evangelical charity of the monks of Santa Saba. If the
districts about the Dead Sea, should ever become better known, no kind of infor-
mation would be more acceptable to the religious reader, than that which might
encourage the hope, that some traces of Christian faith are yet to be discovered in
those regions. Could the expiring flame be revived ; could the light of divine truth
he kindled along the shores of the Dead Sea, few are the minds which would not
feel the singular power of the gospel, in this its antagonism to the gloom of nature,
and the darkest terrors of sin.

Different accounts are given as to the extent of the lake. By some authors it is
described as only thirty miles in length ; by others as forty : but the common and
more correct estimate of its extent gives its measurement as from forty-five to fifty
mUes in length, and about ten in breadth. A much more important difference pre-
vails in the accounts of the atmosphere, and general character, of the district.
Most of the old wiiters speak of its waters as emitting pestilential vapours, and of
the soU as exhibiting signs of sulphureous fires, burning like an unquenchable fur-
nace beneath its surface. Wliile no living thing has ever been seen in the waters
of this lake, so it has been often asserted that the birds, which attempt to wing their
flight to its opposite shores, are suffocated by the noisome air which they meet in
their passage.

But these traditionary statements receive little support from travellers who have
visited the locality with the intention of desciibing only what they saw. Dr. Robin-
son, in speaking of a thicket near the south-east comer of the sea, states that birds
in great numbers were to be heard there, and that he saw them frequently flying
over the lake. In another place, he says, that he was not less surprised than de-
lighted to hear in the midst of these desolate solitudes, the morning song of innu-
merable birds. The trees, the rocks, the air, resounded with "the carols of the
lark, the cheerful whistle of the quail, the call of the partridge, and the warblings of
many other feathered choristers ; while birds of prey were soaring and screaming in
front of the cliffs above." * Mr. Stephens also bears testimony to the same fact.
" Almost at the moment," he says, " of my turning from the Jordan to the Dead
Sea, notwithstanding the long-credited accounts that no bird could fly over without
dropping dead upon its surface, I saw a flock of gulls floating quietly on its bosom ;
and when I roused them with a stone, they flew down the lake, skimming its sur-
face, till they had carried themselves out of sight." t

A similar contradiction is given to the common behef, that the country around is
rendered uninhabitable by the pestilential vapours exhaled from the sea. " We
were for five days," says the former of the writers quoted above, " in the vicinity of
its shores, and nowhere perceived either noisome smell, or noxious vapour arising

* Biblical Researches, voL ii. pp. 219, 239. t Incidents of Travel, chap, xxxii.

3 A

182 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

from its bosom." The information derived from the Arabs living in the neighbour
hood, or frequently traversing its shores, tended in the same way to contradict the
received tradition. But the acknowledged unheal tliiness of the district ; the gloom
which frequently, though not always, prevails in the atmosphere; and the awful
wildness and steriUty of the hills which hang louring around, justify the imagina-
tion in using the saddest tints, when drawing a picture of this mysterious region.

One of the most affecting stories connected with the enterprising devotion of tra-
vellers, is that which describes the fate of the unfortunate Costigan. The memory
of a man is deserving of profound respect, when he has been found possessed of
that peculiar energy which leads him to peril even life to accomplish an object
believed to be good and great. Had this enthusiastic Irish wanderer in the
Holy Land, employed his earnest spirit in some more practical imdertaking, his
name might have been ranked among those most honoui-able in the annals of
humanity. But even as it was, he ought not to be forgotten. The shores of
the Dead Sea were invested in his thoughts with a peculiar interest. He felt that
while they were unknown, something was wanting to the illustration of a gi'eat
historical mystery ; and that to penetrate the gloom in which time, tradition, and
religion had involved the region, was well worth the risk which might attend the
experiment.

Costigan had been long in the East when he resolved upon the execution of the
project which so intensely occupied his mind. With a patience and courage cha-
racteristic of such natures, he had conveyed a small boat, which he purchased at
Beyroot, from that city to the shores of the Dead Sea. His only companion was an
old Maltese sailor. Assisted by him, he launched his little vessel on the watei s of
the silent sea. Unhappily he did not live to record the results of his voyage. The
Maltese sailor told the story of their adventure with simplicity ; and though he was
too little acquainted with the more interesting points of inquiry to afford any im-
portant information, he told enough to inspire us with profound sympathy for his
master. Their voyage round the lake occupied eight days. They landed everj'
night, and slept on shore, except on one occasion, when the suspicious appearance
of some Arabs on the mountains induced them to moor their vessel beyond reach of
gim-shot. The substance of the information given by the Maltese was, that they
crossed and re-crossed the lake several times, and that the result of their frequent
sounding with a line of one himdi'ed and seventy-five brachia (about six feet each)
was, that the deptli of the sea often varied, within a few boats' lengths, from twenty,
to thirty, forty, and even eighty brachia. It was only once that they could find no
bottom with their line, and this appears to have been accounted for by the existence
of a spring. But the most interesting part of the statement was that which referred
to certain ruins, said to have been discovered in the course of the voyage. Accord-
ing to the sailor, they met with ancient remains in foiu: different places ; and at one
spot Mr. Costigan beheved they had found the ruins of Gomorrah. An island sup-

-!.\

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. jgg

posed to exist at the further end of the lake, was discovered to be a mere optical
delusion, created by a tongue of high land, casting its shadows so as to produce the
singidar effect which has deceived so many travellers.

Among other particulars, the Maltese related to Mr. Stephens, that the boat, with
no one iu it, floated a palm higher above the water than on the Mediterranean •
that Costigan lay on the waves and picked a fowl ; that their voyage being made iu
the month of July, it was dreadfully sultry from nine to five, and that when the
north wind, which blew every night, arose, the lake was more tempestuous than the
Gulf of Lyons. During the first five days of the voyage, Costigan had cheerfiilly
shared the toil of rowing. On the sixth, he began to show the deadly effects of the
heat. Their fresh-water was now exhausted. On the seventh they were obliged to
drink that of the lake. The next day they were near the head of the sea ; but the
Maltese himself was no longer able to hold an oar. He strove, however, to make
some coffee ; and a sudden breeze springing up, they hoisted a sail, for the first
time, and, in a few hours, their little skiff reached the extremity of the lake. But it
was too late. Costigan was in a dying state. The Maltese laid him on the shore,
and then hastened off to procure assistance from Jericho. Some Arabs found the
expiring traveller. They would have left him to his fate; but an old woman
who had hastened from Jericho on the first intelligence she received of the sick
man, made two of her sons convey him to her hut. There she tended his last hours
with the watchfulness of a mother ; and poor Costigau blessed her with his dying
breath.

A pilgrimage to the Dead Sea is usually connected with a visit to the convent of
Santa Saba. It lies half-way between the Dead Sea and Jerusalem, and occupies
the ravine of the brook Cedron, which is said to be, in this place, three or four
hundred feet deep.

The monastery of Santa Saba has been celebrated for many centuries as one of
the most remarkable in the East. It is surrounded by solitudes, the savage features
3f which long attracted the melancholy anchorites of the middle ages. The rocks,
which here rise to a great height, are rent in several places, aud form natural cells
or grottos. In these wild retreats, crowds of pilgrims from various parts of the
world, took up their abode, till, enamoured of the visions which the strange quietness
and security of the region afforded, they regarded it as the happiest of homes.
There were formerly, it is said, as many as ten thousand of these anchorites inhabit-
ing the clefts of the rocks at Santa Saba.* The monastery itself stands on the brow
of a steep hill, and at the distance of two or three hundred paces is a deep cavern,
in the midst of which rises the fountain of Santa Saba, famous for its copious and
salubrious stream, and for the miraculous manner in which it is said to have first
poured forth its waters at the prayer of the saint.

• Naud, Voyage Nouveau, lib. iv. c. svii. p. 446.

184 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

Though the monastery of Santa Saba is no longer the centre of such a vast
community of ascetics, it is still an interesting and remarkable establishment. Tra-
vellers unite in describing the wild and solemn scenery by which it is surrounded
as inspiring them with awe. " It was night," says one of them, " when we arrived ;
and groping our way by the uncertain light of the moon, we arrived at the door of
the convent, a lofty and gigantic structure, rising in stories of terraces, one above
the other, against the sides of the mountain to its very top ; and then crowned with
turrets, which, from the base where I stood, seemed like the tower at which the
wickedness of man was confounded, striving to reach to heaven." Ascending two
or three flights of steps, the stranger climbed up a ladder, crawled through a little
door which just admitted of his passage, and immediately found himself in the midst
of more than a hundred Greek pilgrims. A monk then conducted him again up
two or three flights of steps to another apartment. This belonged to the superior,
and there cofl'ee was prepared for the weary traveller ; after partaking of which, he
was shown by flights of steps leading further up the rocks to a little chamber, the
neatness and comfort of which were in striking contrast with the wild, dreary, and
oppressive gloom which reigned without. And such, it may be worth while to ob-
serve, is the power of man to make a home, and to furnish it with many of the
truest comforts and delights connected with the name, in the darkest comers of the
waste-howling wilderness. The most terrific forms of nature ; the saddest asso-
ciations of the past, readily yield their stem power over the heart, as soon as
but an image of home, or of the safety and quietness which belong to it, rises to the
mind.

From the summit of a tower which stands on the side of the beetling cliff", the
noble convent presents the appearance of an amphitheatre, its terraces crowning
several ridges of rock, while in the opposite mountain may still be seen the caverns
which fonned the abodes of the ancient anchorites. Blue pigeons, it is remarked
by Chateaubriand, now build their nests in these deserted grottos, as if to remind
the traveller by their sighs, their innocence, and gentleness, of the saints who for-
merly inhabited these retreats. An old palm-tree also, growing out of the side of a
jutting rock, affords a beautiful emblem of the peaceful triumphs which are some-
times gained where the dew of blessing can be hardly looked for. Most readers
will sympathize in the sentiment expressed by the eloquent French traveller, when
he found that worldly passions and interests could penetrate even into the cells of
Santa Saba. " I cannot," he says, "recollect without a feeling of pain, that one of
the monks began to talk of pohtical affairs, and to reveal to me the secrets of the
court of Russia. 'Ah! father,' said I, 'where will you seek peace, if you cannot
find it here?'"

Mr. Bartlett says with truth, that the scenery about Santa Saba, and the convent
itself, may be better described by the pencil than the pen. By referring to the view
of the monastery, it will be seen that it is defended by a lofty wall. Of this ouly

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 185

one portion is represented, but it completely surrounds and encloses the building,
except where the nature of the precipices renders such a defence unnecessary.
The dome of the church ; the terraces and cells are seen bej-ond ; and the principal
buildings front the bold rocks of the opposite side of the glen. In the distance, the
eye discerns the sandy heaps of the desert, beyond which lies the Dead Sea,
beneath its canopy of gloom and mystery.

HEBRON AND ITS ENVIRONS.

The antiquity of Hebron connects its name and history with the most remote ages.
It is first mentioned in the account of Abraham's survey of the magnificent inherit-
ance which his faith gained for his posterity. " Arise," said the Lord, " walk
throngh the land, in the length of it, and in the breadth of it : for I will give it unto
thee. Then Abram removed his tent, and came and dwelt in the plain of Mamre,
which is in Hebron."* From the expression here employed, we find that Hebron
was originally the name of a district; but in the book of Numbers t it is expressly
stated, that " Hebron was built seven years before Zoan in Egypt." It was also
known, in ancient times, as Kirjath-Arba, for, " Sarah died in Kiijath-Arba, the
same is Hebron in the land of Canaan ; and Abraham came to mourn for Sarah,
and to weep for her." J Abraham himself, and Isaac, were buried with Sarah, " in
the cave of the field of Machpelah, before Mamre : the same is Hebron, in the land
of Canaan." § The neighbourhood had been rendered venerable to the patriarch
by the wonderful manifestations which he received there of the divine presence :
" The Lord appeared unto him in the plains of Mamre : and he sat in the tent-door
in the heat of the day." 1|

When Joshua was pursuing his triumphant course tnrough the promised land, the
king of Hebron was one of the five princes who united to oppose his progress.
Hoham's fate, and that of his territory, was soon determined ; and in the distribution
of the land, Hebron was assigned to Caleb at his particular desire, and because that
he had, " wholly followed the Lord God of Israel." By a subsequent arrangement,
the city of Hebron was given to the priests, the fields and the villages still remain-
ing the exclusive possession of Caleb. Hebron was also made one of the cities of
refuge, and in later times it became renowned, as the residence of David, who
estabhshed himself there, at the commencement of his reign, by divine appoint-
ment : " And the time that David was king of Hebron, over the house of Judah, was
seven years and six months." U At the end of that period, he was made king over
Israel as well as Judah, and the seat of royalty was transferred from the old
mountainous city of Hebron to the hill of Zion.** It appears now to have sunk

* Gen. xiii. 17, 18.

t Numbers xiii. 22. Zoan or Tanis, was the capital of Lower Egypt, and a city of extreme an-
tiquity.
X Gen xxiij. 2.. ^ Gen x-xiii. 19. Il Gen. xviii. 1. H 2 Sam. ii. 1 — 11 ** 2 Sam. v. 1—8.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 187

into comparative insignificance, tiU it was made the scene of Absalom's unnatural
insurrection.* Rehoboam regarded it as fitted to become one of the strong-holds
of his kingdom, and fortified it according to the best rules of ancient art.

The veneration entertained for Hebron, as the dwelling place of the patriarchs,
and as consecrated by their tombs, continued unabated through every age of Jewish
history.t " There is no land more excellent than Egypt," said the Rabbis ; " for it
is as tlie garden of the Lord ; nor is there in Egypt any place more excellent than
Zoan, as it is said, ' Her princes were in Zoan ; ' and yet Hebron was seven times
nobler, rocky as it was, than Zoan." It was also a common saying, " Rams from
Moab, lambs from Hebron ; " and when the appomted minister of the Temple as-
cended its battlements to announce the first davra of day, and the hour for the morn-
ing sacrifice, his answer to those who asked, " Is it fight ? " was, " The morning is
seen as far as Hebron." This mention of Hebron was made, it is said, that the
virtues of those who were buried there, might be remembered at the daily sacrifice.!
It was even believed by some of the Jews, that Adam directed his remains to be
deposited near Hebron. " After my death," they represent him as saying, " men
will come, perhaps, and take my bones to worship them. But I will hide my
body very deep in the earth, in a cave within a cave." Hence the sacred spot
refen-ed to is called the Cave Machpelah, or the Doubled dice.

As the birth-place of John the Baptist, Hebron possesses a further claim to the
admiration of the Christian pilgrim. Venerable as is the ancient terebinth-tree, the
oak of Mamre, under the shade of which Abraham is said to have reposed; and in-
teresting as it is to contemplate the cave, to which tradition so confidently points as
that which contains the dust of the father of the faithful, the name of John the
Baptist awakens profounder feelings than those excited by even the oldest tradi-
tions. The light of the new day was looked for towards Hebron ; and the splendour
of the dawn overspreading the moimtains, was nobly typical of the first rays of that
dayspring from on high," which was " to give light to them that sit in darkness, and
in the shadow of death." §

This ancient city was a place of importance in the middle ages. Its position
gave it the command of an extensive range of country; and the Crusaders regarded
it as one of their richest prizes. Hence it was conferred by Godfrey of Bouillon,
in a moment of great joy, on the bold and pious Gerhard of Avesnes. This noble
Christian wanior had been left as a hostage in the little town of Arsui; on the sea-

* 2 Sam. XV. 9, 10.

t Josephus says : " The people of the country assert that it is older, not only than any city of the
land, but than Mempliis in Egypt ; and accordingly its age is reckoned at two thousand three hundred
years. Tliere is also there shown, at the distance of sL\ furlongs from the city, a very large turpen-
tine-tree ; and report goes that this tree has continued ever since the creation of the world." — Bell.,
lib. iv. c. ix.

t Lightfoot's Works, vol. .x. p. 97. § Luke i. 78, 79.

188 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

shore ; and there, with others, suffered the most cruel treatment on the part of the
Mussulmans. Godfrey hastened to besiege the place. At the instant when he was
about to attack the walls, he saw Gerhard of Avesnes bound to the mast of a ship,
and exposed at the point of the fortifications where the besiegers must make their
fiercest assault. Bold as was Gerhard, his heart fainted when he saw that he must
perish by the weapons of his brethren. He called with a loud and piercing cry to
Godfrey, by whom he was tenderly beloved, to save him from such a fate. But the
duke exhorted him to look with joy on the martyr's death; and to rest assured that
it was not want of friendship wliich induced him so to speak, for that the life of his
own brother Eustace, would have been regarded by him as of less value than the
capture of Arsuf.

The assault was immediately commenced, and as the deadly shafts flew around
him, Gerhard, strengthened by the words of Godfrey, quietly and gladly resigned
himself to martyrdom, only beseeching the duke, as a last act of friendship, to give
his favourite horse and knightly accoutrements to the sen-ants of the Holy Se-
pulchre. Scarcely had this request passed his lips, when his body was pierced by
ten darts ; and a few minutes after, the great wooden tower, in which the foremost
of the besiegers were carrying on the attack, took fire, and the Christian army was
thrown into irrecoverable confusion. Godlrey was accordingly obliged to raise the
siege, leaving not only Gerhard of Avesnes, but several other of his bravest knights,
victims to the fury of the enemy. Nothing more was heard of Gerhard, and his
name was already placed among those of the martyrs. Arsuf, unable to resist the
successive attacks of adventurous knights, at length opened its gates to Godfrey,
and this event was followed by a season of profound tranquillity. The Emir of
Askalon manifested the most friendly dispositions towards Godfrey. Each vied
with the other in showing some instance of kindness and confidence. One day, a
strange knight, mounted on a stately horse, arrived from Askalon, and rode imme-
diately, as charged with important intelhgence, to salute the duke. Great was the
joy, not only of Godfrey, but of the whole Christian army, when in the person of
the strange knight was discovered Gerhard of Avesnes. The Mussulmans, it ap-
pears, had been struck with generous admiration at the fortitude which he dis-
played ; and when it was found that his wounds were not mortal, they sent him to
the Emir of Askalon, by whom he was treated with that species of heroic hospitality
which the Saracens knew so well how to exercise.*

It was while full of delight at the recovery of his lost friend, that Godfrey be-
stowed upon him the Castle of Abraham, as Hebron was then called, with the
adjacent lands. But Gerhard appears to have enjoyed his fief for only a short
period. The Castle of Abraham is spoken of as having been a few years after
in ruins. Its subsequent history is involved in obscurity. The establishment

* Wibsen, Geschichte der KreuzzUge, t. ii. p. 40—44. Michaud Histoire dea Croisades, t. ii. p. 7.

i
i

THE CHEISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 189

of an Episcopal see in the district shows that hopes were entertained of its forming
a flourishing branch of the Christian Church in Palestine. But the conquests of
Saladin reduced the new see to a mere name, and Hebron has, therefore, had but a
verv transitory connexion with Christendom, at any period of its liistory. Pilgrim-
ages were made to Hebron in the fourteenth century, the pious travellers taking it
in their way to Jerusalem, when they journeyed direct to that city from Mount
Sinai through the desert. It was probably to meet the necessities of the concourse
of strangers thus arriving at Hebron, that the hospital was established, spoken of in
the chronicles of those times. This magnificent institution, so noble a proof of the
charity of the thnteenth and fourteenth centuries, is said to have opened its gates to
the poor and suffering, to the stranger and afflicted, of whatever country, or religion,
he might be. Twelve hundred loaves of bread ; a proportionable supply of other
food, and of oil, were everyday dispensed to the numerous dependents on its
bounty.

Other routes to Jerusalem becoming more acceptable to travellers, Hebron
was but rarely visited during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Of late
years, it has been frequently resorted to by Europeans ; and, a rare circumstance in
the accounts of the Holy Land, they generally agree in the belief that the present
town occupies the same site as the ancient Hebron, or Castle of Abraham. The
Chevalier d'Arvieux, who visited it about the middle of the seventeenth centurj',
describes his journey from Bethlehem to Hebron, a distance of seven leagues,
with great particularity. Ha\ing passed by some of the places already described,
he left the main road about a league from Hebron, and proceeded along the ^alley
of Mamre, to the spot where Abraham dwelt. There he saw the foundations, and
some remains of the walls of a buOding, supposed to have been the church erected
by the bishop of Jerusalem in the days of Constantine. On approaching the city,
his guides pointed out to him what was traditionally said to be the well of Jacob,
and also a vineyard denominated the field of Damascus, from which, according to
an old legend, the red earth was taken of which Adam was made. On similar
authority, the grotto is shown in which he dwelt after the expulsion from Paradise ;
and where he wept over Abel, whom his brother slew at the end of this valley.

D'Arvieux supposes the ancient Hebron to have occupied a hill to the north, the
site having been changed in the course of the various revolutions to which the city
had been exposed. A strong castle on one of the adjacent heights indicated the
former military character of the place. This castle when Dr. Robinson visited He-
bron in 1838 was partly in ruius; and it is probable that the general aspect of
the city may have been considerably changed within the last century. The present
town is built along a deep and narrow valley, and is divided into three parts, olive-
grounds and well-watered gardens separating the one quarter from the other.

Among the objects which most interest present travellers, are the ancient reser-
voirs, one of which Dr. Robinson regards as probably the pool spoken of in the

190 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

account of David's slaying the assassins of Ishbosheth: "And Da\'id commanded
his young men, and they slew them, and cut off their hands and tliek feet, and
hanged them up over the pool in Hebron. But they took the head of Ish-
bosheth, and buried it in the tomb of Abner in Hebron."*

The great Mosque, or Haram, at Hebron, is interesting as one of the most exten-
sive edifices of the kind in the East ; but more especially as erected over the spot
supposed to contain the bodies of the patriarchs. It is commonly believed that the
empress Helena caused a magnificent church to be erected over the tomb of Abra-
ham. This structure long remained as an evidence of her piety and munificence ;
and though it now forms pai-t of a Turkish Haram, enough may be traced of the
original design to prove what confidence was placed in the truth of the ancient tra-
dition. Never, indeed, could such costly edifices have been reared, except by
those who fully trusted to the accoimts which consecrated the soU, and rendered it
dear to their souls. Deceived they might be, but their own condctions must have
been deep and intense ; nor is it always easy to understand how, with many ad-
vantages for carrying on inquiry, and certainly not wanting in ordinary acuteness,
the pilgrims of early ages should have been so fi-equently in error as modern travel-
lers imagine.

Ali Bey, taking advantage of the disguise which enabled him to penetrate the
recesses of the mosque at Jerusalem, traversed, in a similar manner, the courts of
the Haram at Hebron. He describes the ascent to the temple which contains the
sepulchres of Abraham, and his family, as a noble staircase, leading to a long gal-
lery, which is entered by a small court. On the left is a portico, supported by
square pillars. In the vestibule ai'e two rooms, the one to the right containing the
sepulchre of Abraham, and that to the left the sepulchre of Sarah. Between two
large pillars, in the body of the church, is a small structure sxunnounting the tomb
of Isaac, while a corresponding one, on the opposite side, covers that of Rebecca.
Crossing the court, euiother vestibule is seen. This contains the sepulchres of
Jocob and his wife ; and at the extremity of the portico of the temple, connected
with a spacious gallery, is a room in which the sepulchre is placed which received
the remains of Joseph, when brought by his people firom Egypt.

These sepulchres are covered with carpets of the finest silk, richly embroidered
with gold. Those of the patriarchs are green ; and those of their wives crimson.
They are fimiished by the sultans of Constantinople ; and AU Bey mentions, that
he coimted nine, lying one over the other, upon the tomb of Abraham. The en-
trances to the rooms which contain the sepulchres, are guarded by iron gates, and
wooden doors, plated with silver, the bolts and locks pertaining to them being of
the same metal.

The Chevalier d'Arvieux found it impossible to gain a sight of the tombs. They

• 2 Sam. iv 12.

X
^

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 191

are inaccessible, he says, to both Christians and Jews ; and, according to him, even
the Turks dare scarcely approach them, lest they should suffer loss of sight for
their presumption, such having been the fate of some, it was asserted, who had
shown themselves too curious. There is an opening, however, into the first cavern,
which may thus be partially viewed by the help of torches ; and here Christians and
Jews, and pilgiims from every nation may be seen at their devotions.

The jealousy with which the sepulchres of the patriarchs were thus guarded by
the Turks, has not abated since the times of d'Arvieux. This is strikingly shown
in the following narrative.* " Agreeably to an engagement with the governor and
tlie sheikh, they arrived a little before nine, accompanied by their suite, and the
chiefs of the Portuguese and German synagogues. The party being assemlded,
coffee, pipes, and other refreshments were served with all due attention to Eastern
etiquette. But little time was spent before all was in readiness for our departure.
We were soon mounted: Ibrahim, our janissaries, and soldiers escorting us, and
many of our brethren following on foot, all eager to obtain admission to a sight of
the venerated spot, where repose the patriarchs, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. As
we proceeded through the streets, many a proud Mussulman eyed us with jealous
scrutiny. The inhabitants of Hebron differ from their turbaned brethren of Jeru-
calem, and other cities. Much of urbanity and kindness are discernible in the
conduct of the latter, while the former, strutting about, or seated on the side of the
streets, seem only anxious to show the pride, and exercise the violence, of con-
querors. On arriving at the gate of the mosque, we found a great crowd assembled,
and consisting chiefly of Turks, among whom was a dervish, the sound of whose hide-
ous cries, as he shook his head, and tossed his arms furiously about, his whole ap-
pearance rendered doubly frightful by a dark grizzly beai'd, was almost enough to
terrify a bolder heart than mine. To his hideous yells, as we continued to approach,
were added those of the multitude ; but, encouraged by the governor and the cadi, who
led the way, we dismounted, and gained an entrance. It was soon apparent, how-
ever, that the authority of office exercises little influence here. A turbulent throng
of Mussulmans was collected in the interior of the mosque, and they were soon
joined by the raving dervish. In the meantime, the noise outside continued to in-
crease, and the Jews, who were anxiously waiting to obtain a sight of the burial-
place of their revered forefathers, experienced the most violent insults. The
moslem, with pale face, pointed to an iron door, saying, it was that which led to
the interior of the cave. But the rage of the Turks, and the howling of the derxisli,
now became more violent than ever ; and we decided that it would be prudent to
retire, without attempting a further entrance. We accordingly retreated as we had
advanced; the governor and the cadi, with their ofiicers, preceding us. On leaving
this scene of fanatic fury, the governor attempted some apology for what had

* Notes from a Private Journal (not published) by Lady Montefiore, 1844, pp. 302-6.

192 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

occurred, observing that it was impossible for him to check the violence of religious
enthusiasm. This might be true ; but, as governor of a town, he should have known
better the extent and force of his authority, and not have allowed us to encounter
so much confusion and alann."

The environs of Hebron are picturesque, and remarkable for fertility. Its gar-
dens and orchards produce the richest fruit ; and the green valley which leads to its
gates is known by the characteristic title of " the Vale of Flowers." Pomegranates,
figs, and apricots, from the gardens of Hebron, vie with the choicest produce of
those of Damascus, while the vineyards still bear their purple clusters rejoicingly,
as in the days when the vale of Eshcol was first explored by the descendants of
Abraham.* Even the interior of the city exhibited signs of plenty. Dr. Robinson
says, " that he and his companions were struck not only with the excellence and
cheapness of the fruits exposed for sale, but with the butchers' stalls, and the
abundance of mutton hung out, the fatness and delicacy of which would not have
disgraced an English farmer." Some manufactories, and especially one of glass, are
carried on at Hebron ; and though the town, like all others in the East, affords
sufficient instances of poverty, its inhabitants in general are far less wretched in their
state or appearance, than those of Jerusalem. This was still more the case before
the year 1834, when Ibraham Pasha punished the daring opposition of the He-
bronites to his arms, by levelling a great part of the city with the dust. " Hebron,"
says Mr. Stephens, " bears no traces of the glory of its Jewish king. Thunder and
lightning, and earthquakes, wars, pestilence, and famine, have passed over it : and
a small town of white houses, compactly buUt on the side of the mountain, a
mosque and two minarets, are all that mark the ancient city of Hebron." t

Very different accounts are given of the population ol Hebron. By some writers
it is estimated at ten thousand ; while others speak of it as amounting to only half
that number. It must be difficult, however, to obtain any veiy correct account of the
population of a place which consists, for the most part, of wretched lanes, and nar-
row little streets, as crowded as they are dark and filthy. Few travellers, it is pro-
bable, would visit Hebron but for its interesting locality. AVith the exception of
the outer walls of the Haram, not a single stracture exists to excite curiosity. Dr.
Robinson supposes that this remarkable wall formed the enclosure of the patriarchal
sepulchres in the earliest ages.J Josephus speaks of moimmeuts existing in
Hebron in his time, formed of the most beautiful marble, and wrought with great
skill and elegance. § As it is not probable that the Jews would leave these precious
remains of remote times unprotected, so there seems good reason to believe, that
the walls, which bear so many signs of great antiquity, were part of the outer edifice
as it existed before the Christian era. Their form is that of a parallelogram ; the
length being about two hundred feet, and the breadth about one hundred and fif-

* Num. xili. 23. f Incidents of Travel, c. xxv. X Biblical Researches, toI, ii. p. 437.

§ Bell. lib. iv. c. ix. s. 7. Antiii. lib. i. c. 14.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 193

teen. The architecture resembles that seen in the remains of the ancient temple at
Jerusalem, the walls being built of stones of huge size, hewn in the same manner as
those found in the holy city. Sixteen square pilasters on each side, and eight at
each end, form the external support of the walls, which rise to the height of fifty or
sixty feet. The height of the walls has been still fiuther increased, by the anxiety
of the Mussulmans to prevent the possibility of any intrusion upon their privity.
No windows exist in any part of the structure ; and its appearance is well calcu-
lated to excite those feelings of curiosity, which naturally arise where remote anti-
quity, rehgion, and tradition seem to hallow the spot. Mr. Bartlett says, "The
architecture of this singidar structure is very perplexing. The excellency of the
masonry is far from indicating a rude, or early origin; while the cornice, or capital,
unlike anything of the kind in Greek, or Roman architecture, is certainly neither
Christian, nor Saracenic." The superior part of the wall is furnished with battle-
ments and loop-holes, the angles being crowned with minaiets. " Above this wall,"
it is added, " may be seen the roof of what appears to be a basilica of Byzantine
architecture," the roof, that is, of the mosque, or Haram, built over the ancient
sepulchres.

3 D

FROM HEBRON TO PETRA.

It is only of late years, after the lapse of many ages, that the rocky wildernesses of
ancient Edom have been traversed by the step of a European traveller. The
flowery vales of Hebron might win the most wandering spirit to repose : the deso-
late tracks which lie beyond them, might daunt the boldest from entering their
gloomy labyrinths. Two thousand years have cast theii- weight of shadows over
Bozrah; over the graves of the people who made their nest "high as the eagle;"
and the words have been fulfilled, even to the letter, which proclaimed, " Thou
shalt be desolate, O mount Seir, and all Idumaea, even all of it : and they shall know
that I am the Lord,"*

Petra, or, as in the Hebrew Scriptures, Selah,t was the capital of the Edomites.
It is mentioned by the latter name in the account given of Amaziah's conquest,
where it is said, that " he slew of Edom, in the valley of salt, ten thousand, and took
Selah by war, and called the name of it Joktheel unto this day."| The wealth, power,
and mihtarj' glorj' of Idumaea, filled the hearts both of the people and its princes with
the loftiest notions of theii- greatness. They believed themselves destined to brave the
storms and revohitions of ages ; to be as immovable as the gigantic rocks around
them: and they seemed almost justified in believing that, though time and change
might level other mighty cities with the dust, then- magnificent Petra, which spread
along the valley as if it had existed from the first, identical with the everlasting hills,
could never be overthrown.

But while such were the proud hopes of Idumaea, divine wisdom had already-
pronounced its sentence : " My sword shall be bathed in heaven. Behold it shall

come do\\'n upon Idumaea and upon the people of my curse to judgment

The Lord hath a saciifice in Bozrah, and a great slaughter in the land of Idum^a."
Then, speaking of the general desolation of the land, the prophet adds : " From
generation to generation it shall lie waste : none shall pass through it for ever and
ever. But the cormorant and the bittern shall possess it : the owl also and the
raven shall dwell in it ; and he shall stretch out upon it the line of confusion, and
the stones of emptiness." And further: "Thorns shall come up in her palaces,

* Ezek. XXXV. 15.

+ Both words signify a rock: a name descriptive of the situation of the city, and of the character of
the surrounding country.
J 2 Kings xiv. 7.

CRt»T C-*
or E D ■

P E

OUNDPLANOF >\\

THE CHRISTIAN IX PALESTINE. J95

nettles and brambles in the fortresses thereof; and it shall be an habitation of
dragons, and a court for owls. The vnld beasts of the desert shall also meet with
the wild beasts of the island, and the satyr shall cry to his fellow : the screech owl
also shall rest there, and find for herself a place of rest. There shall the great owl
make her nest, and lay, and hatch, and gather under her shadow. There shall the
vultui'es also be gathered, every one with her mate."*

After a hundred years had passed away since the delivery of this awful prediction,
the word of the Lord was thus again heard denoiuicing Idumaja : " Thy terrible-
ness hath deceived thee, and the pride of thine heart, O thou that dwellest in the
clefts of the rock, that boldest the height of the hill. Though thou shouldst make
thy nest as high as the eagle, I will bring thee down from thence, saith the Lord.
Also Edom shall be a desolation. Every one that goeth by it shall be astonished,
and shall hiss at all the plagues thereof." t

These prophecies were fulfilled to the letter. The powerful and haughty people;
their mighty city and rock-built fortresses, were swept away by the breath of the
divine displeasure, and only such relics were left of them as might best display the
irresistible strength of the word and righteousness of God.

It would be a useful but melancholy exercise of historical skill, to trace the
decline of such a city as Petra, from one stage of decay to another, till it lay over-
whelmed in ruins, crumbling beneath the onward step, dark and temble, of
heavenly providence. But we can only observe its downward progi-ess at wide and
distant periods. Long after the posterity of Edom had ceased to be a people, the
ancient capital of their land was a vast and splendid city. Even in the times when
Jerusalem was trembling at the signs of its approaching overthrow, Petra seemed
still capable of defying the hosts of enemies by which it was surrounded, and of
even rendering help to its more powerful alHes. The sources of its wealth were, at
one time, apparently inexhaustible. It was through Petra that the commerce of the
old world found its securest channels. Thus it is stated, that while the communica-
tion with Egypt was kept up by the Arabians, and before the Red Sea was covered
with the fleets of Ptolemy, Petra was the common centre of commercial intercourse.
" From Petra, the trade, carried on with the interior of Arabia, branched off in various
directions, to Egypt, Palestine, and Syria, through Arsinoe, Gaza, Tyre, Jerusalem,
Damascus, and other routes, all terminating on the Mediten-anean.| And further:
Petra was the point to which all the Arabians traded fi-om the three sides of their
vast peninsula. Here we find the Ishmaelites from Gilead,§ conducting a caravan
of camels loaded with the spices of India, the balsam and myrrh of Hadramant ;
and, in the regular course of their traffic, proceeding to Egypt for a market."

* Isai. xxxiv. 5—15. + Jer. xlix. 16, 17-

t Vincent's Commerce and Navigation of tlie Ancients in the Indian Ocean, vol li. p. 260.

§ Gen. x.x."ivii. 25.

j96 THE CHRlsriAX IN PALESTINE.

Thou''h the transaction here spolten of, adds Dr. Vincent, took place more than three
thousand years ago, it resembles, in aU respects, the passage of a caravan across
the desert in the present times.

Idumcea, it was obserred by Volner,* had not been visited, in his day, by any
modem traveller, well as it deserved to be explored. He had learnt by common
report that traces existed there of a vast and wealthy population. Nor ought this,
he says, to create astonishment, for Pelra was the country of the Nabathaeans, the
most powerfiil of the Arab race, and of those Idumaeans who in the last age of
Jerusalem, and when Titus was advancing against it, assembled at once thirty
tiiousand men to increase the garrison.

It has been well remarked, that we ought to regard it as a very valuable circum-
.stance, that an infidel writer, like Volney, should have, unknowingly, contributed a
most important species of evidence to the truth of prophecy. " That the Idumaeans
were a populous and powerful nation long posterior to the deUvery of the pro-
phecies; that they possessed a tolerably good government; that Idumaea contained
manv cities ; that these cities are now absolutely deserted ; and that their ruins
swarm with enormous scorpions ; that it was a commercial nation, and possessed
highly frequented marts ; that it forms a shorter route than an ordinary one to
Judaea, and yet that it had not been visited by any traveller, are facts all recorded, or
proved to a wish, by this able but unconscious commentator."+

Such were the accounts given of Petra, and its neighbourhood, before any tra-
veller of later times had ventured to penetrate its recesses. At length the bold and
devoted Burckhardt determined to prosecute his journey to Wady Mousa, the
native appellation of this remarkable district. He did not expect, however, to be
able to explore it with sufficient minuteness to satisfy either his own curiosity, or
that of others. " I was without protection," he says, " in the midst of a desert
where no traveller had ever before been seen ; and a close examination of these
works of the infidels, as the antiquities are called, would have excited suspicious that
I was a magician in search of treasures. Future travellers may visit the spot under
the protection of an armed force : the inhabitants will become more accustomed to
the researches of strangers ; and the antiquities of Wady Mousa wiU then be found
to rank amongst the most curious remains of ancient art." J

But though Burckhardt visited Petra under the disadvantages here spoken of, his
account of the monuments seen along the valley was sufficient to convince other tra-
vellers of the deeply interesting character of the country. He was not certain that
the ruins which he had discovered were those of the ancient Petra; but he rea-
soned on the high probability of their being so ; and subsequent investigations have
proved the correctness of his conclusions. Of the general aspect of the spot, he

* Voyage en Syrie et Egypt pendant 1783-5, t. ii. p. 317.
t Keith, Evidence from Prophecy, Art. Idumxa. J Travels in Syria and the Holy Iiand, p. 422.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 197

says, " That the position of the city had been well chosen in point of security ; for
it might be defended by a few hundred men, against the attacks of a large army.
But the communication with the neighbourhood must have been verj' difficult and
inconvenient, owing to the nanow and rocky nature of the passes leading to the
valley. The summer heats, also, must have been excessive, the spot pointed out as
the site of the city being surrounded, on all sides, by lofty, barren cliffs, which, while
they concentrate the rays of the sun, effectually prevent the circulation of the
westerly winds. I saw nothing," says Burckhardt, "in the position that could
have compensated the inhabitants for these disadvantages, except the river, the
benefit of which might have been enjoyed as well, had the town been built
below Eldjy. Security, therefore, was probably the only object which induced the
people to overlook such inconveniences, and to select so singular a position ibr
a city."

This enterprising traveller having thus opened a path through the valley of Petra,
others soon began to regard the investigation of its numerous relics, as promising
results sufficient to repay any amount of toil or danger. We have accordingly
been furnished with ample detsuls respecting the present appearance of this remark-
able locahty. Most of the later travellers in the holy land have extended their
course to JVadi/ Moiisa ; and their several accounts agree together in representing
the scene which they there beheld as affording the most striking illustrations of the
Scripture record.

The journey from Hebron to Petra is one of constant and strange excitement.
It leads through a countrj' so little known, that every hill, and watercourse, and
glen, seems to claim the traveller's notice, as marking his progress into a land where
all things have been forgotten. Carmel* is reached in about three hours from
Hebron. An historical interest is attached to its name, as the scene of Saul's re-
bellion after his victorj' over the Amalekitesjt as that of David's early wanderings
and perilous adventures ; and as ha%iug bordered on the possessions of the wealthy
but foohsh Nabal, the husband of the beautiful and prudent Abigail.:!: But no
mention had been made of this place since the time of the Crusades, and it would
probably soon have been whoUy forgotten but for the almost accidental mention of
it under the name of Kurmul, by the German writer Seetzen. It is singular that
such a place should have been so lost even to tradition. Dr. Robinson states that
he had nowhere met with ruins of greater extent; and according to his description
of their general character, there must once have existed here a city of considerable
importance. §

As the traveller continues to piu-sue his route, the scenery becomes more and
more savage. Having passed through the country of the Jehalin, which anciently

* The reader need scarcely be reminded that the Carmel here spoken of, is far distant from the
Carmel which rises from the fertile plains about Acre.

+ 1 Sam. .XV. 12. J 1 Sam. xxv. 2. % Bibheal Researches, vol. ii. p. 196.

.3 E

198 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

pertained to the south of Judah, he enters upon a desolate tract of land, here and
there marked bv the ruins of cities, all record of which has been lost for ages.
Beyond the intervening wilderness of rocks, he catches a view of the southern extre-
mity of the Dead Sea, with the misty valleys which run down to its shores. At
length he enters upon a dark and narrow ridge of land, known by the name of
IJsdum, and extending almost to the marshes of the sea. The whole of this region
exhibits the most singular characteristics. It is for some distance one solid mass
of rock-salt. Though covered for the most part with layers of limestone, the mas-
sive salt is often seen above this slight covering, and appears in a pure, crystal-
lized fossil form, in precipices several hundred feet in length, and forty or fifty in
height. *

The solemnity of the scenes through which the traveller passes is not less
striking than their wildness. In describing one of the deep gorges of the mountains,
along which he and his companions were slowly winding their way, Dr. Robinson
says, " The evening was warm and still ; we, therefore, did not pitch our tents, but
spread our carpets on the sand, and lay down, not indeed, at first, to sleep, but to
enjoy the scene, and the associations which thronged upon our miuds. It was
truly one of the most romantic desert scenes we had yet met with, and I hardly re-
member another in all our wanderings, of which I retain a more lively impression.
Here was the deep broad valley in the midst of the Arabah, unknown to all the
civilized world, shut in by high and singular cliffs: over against us were the
mountains of Edom : in the distance rose Mount Ilor in its lone majesty, the spot
where the aged prophet-brothers took of each other their last farewell ; while above
our heads was the deep azure of an oriental sky, studded with innumerable stars
and brilliant constellations, on which we gazed with a higher interest from the
bottom of this deep chasm. Near at hand were the flashing fires of our party ; the
Arabs themselves in their wild attire, all were at supper round one bowl ; our
Egyptian ser\'ants looking on ; one after another rising and gliding through the glow
of the fires ; the sheikh approaching and saluting us ; the serving of coffee ; and
beyond all this circle, the patient camels lying at their ease, and lazily chewing the
cud."

As the traveller proceeds, Mount Hor becomes a more distinct feature in the
solitary landscape. This mountain belongs to the huge rocky tract of hills, known
by the general name of Mount Seir, first spoken of in Genesis, where it is said, that
" Chedorlaomer, and the kings with him, smote the Horites in their Mount Seir,
unto El-Paran, which is by the wilderness ;"t and there too Esau dwelt, for "Jacob
sent messengers before him, to Esau his brother, unto the land of Seir, the country

* Biblical Researches, vol. ii. pp. 481-5. The whole of Dr. Robinson's account of his journey
through this district is very interesting and v.aluable, in a geograpliical, as well a.9 in a Biblical, point of
view.

t Chap. xiv. G.

THE CHBISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 19il

of Edom."* Mount Hor rises in stern, majestic grandeur from the midst of this
gloomy region, towering hke a giant in the midst of giants, and appearing to the
eye of imagination, as if placed in the centre of the wilderness to rule the subject
solitudes by which it is suiTounded. It was on Mount Ilorf that Aaron, by God's
own appointment, took off the priestly garments, and died. A circular dome, on
the summit of the mountain, is supposed to mark the spot where his remains were
deposited. Mr. Stephens who ascended the mount, at the hazai'd of his life,
describes the tomb as a building about thirty feet square, containing a single
chamber. In front of the door is a stone, somewhat like a tombstone, and covered
with a pall of faded red cotton, now in shreds and patches. Another stone stands
at the head of this monumental slab, and here the Mussulman offers up his sacri-
fices in honour of the name and memory of Aaron. " The stone," says our tra-
veller, "was blackened with smoke, stains of blood, and fragments of burnt brush
were still about it, all was ready but the victim ; and when I saw the reality of the
preparations, I was very well satisfied to have avoided the necessity of conforming
to the Mussidman custom. A i'ew ostrich eggs, the usual ornaments of a mosque,
were suspended from the ceiling, and the rest of the chamber was perfectly bare.
After going out, and from the very top of the tomb surveying again and again the
desolate and dreary scene which presented itself on every side, always tenninating
with the distant view of the Dead Sea, I returned within ; and examining once more
the tomb and the altar, walked carefully round the chamber. There was no light
except what came from the door ; and in groping in the extreme coiner on one
side, my foot descended into an aperture in the floor. I put it down carefiilly, and
found a step, then another, and another, eddently a staircase leading to a chamber
below. I went down tUl my head was on the level of the floor, but could see no-
thing. All was dark."

The difficulty of obtaining a hght ; the agony of suspense and curiosity which
the traveller experienced when he found that the usual means of obtaining one had
been forgotten by his servant; the joy which he felt when, by the aid of his pistol,
he set lire to a pile of dry brush and cotton rags, which lay at the foot of the altar;
all this is described by Mr. Stephens in a manner which shows how deeply an
adventurous traveller is imbued with the sentiment of romance.

A light, however, being kindled, both master and servant seized a torch,
and descended into the vault. At the foot of the steps, they entered a narrow
chamber, at the fxirther end of which was an iron grating, with an opening in the
centre. This grating guarded the niche in the rock, said to be the tomb of Aaron.
" I tore aside," says Mr. Stephens, " the rusty grating, and thiiisting in my arm up
to the shoulders, touched the hallowed spot. The rocks and mountains were echo-
ing the discharge of my pistol, like peals of crashing thunder ; and while, with the

• Chap, xxxii. 3. + Num. xx. 22—28.

200 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

burning brand in one hand, I was thrusting the other through the grating, the deaf-
ening reverberations seemed to rebuke rae for an act of sacrilege, and I rushed up
tlie steps like a guilty and fear-struck crimiual. Suddenly I heard from the foot of
the mountain a quick and irregular discharge of fire-arms, which again resounded
in loud echos through the mountains. It was far from my desire that the bigoted
Mussulmans should come upon me, and find me with my pistol still smoking in my
hand, and the brusii still burning in the tomb of the prophet ; and tearing off a
piece of the ragged pall, we hurried from the place, and dashed down the mountain
on the opposite side, with a speed and recklessness that fear only could give. If
there was room for question between a scramble or a jump, we gave the jump ;
and when we could not jump, our shoes were off in a moment, one leaned over the
brow of the precipice and gave the other his hand, and down we went, allowing no.
thing to stop us. Once for a moment we were at a loss; but Paul, who, in the ex-
citement of one successful leap after another, had become amazingly confident, saw
a stream of water, and made for it, with the glorious boast, that where water
descended, we could. And the suggestion proved con-ect, although the water found
much less difficulty in getting down than we did. In short, after an ascent the
most toilsome, and a descent the most hare-brained and perilous it was ever my
fortune to accomplish, in about half-an-hour we were at the base of the mountain,
but still hunying on to join our escort."*

At a short distance from Wady Mousa, the traveller enters the somewhat popu-
lous village of Eldjy, situated in the midst of hills, the sides of which exhibit agree-
able signs of fertility and cultivation, while the neighbouring valley is watered by a
copious stream. It was here that Burckhardtt began his inquiries respecting the
antiquities of Wady Mousa ; and from the appearance of several large hewn stones
hing about the village, he conjectured that some citj' might anciently have existed
in this part of the valley. A little beyond the village, and where the ^■allev be-
comes narrow, he found a large sepulchral vault, with a handsome door, hewn in
the rock. Other tombs of a similar kind were also discovered about this spot ; and
a few hundred paces fiirtlier on, where the vallej' seemed almost closed in by lofty
rocks, he came to a chasm which fonned the bed of a broad and rapid torrent.
This chasm is spanned by a bridge, still entire, and below which, the rocks are
adorned with elegant sculptures. After proceeding along the valley for about
twenty minutes, he reached a spot, where the passage opened, and the bed of
another stream joined that already spoken of Here, on the side of the perpendi-

* Incidents of Travel, chap. xxii.

t Travels in Syria, p. 420, When Seetzen made his journey in 1806, he was anxious, he says, to
discover Petra,but was told that it was distant one day's journey from Karrak. He afterwards heard
from the bishop of Karrak, at Jerasaleni, that it 'vaa two leagues from the Dead Sea. This learned
traveller, therefore, never reached Wady Mousa.— Brief Account, &.(.., published for the Palestine
Association, 1810.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 201

cular rock, immediately opposite the entrance to the main valley, he suddenly dis-
covered the magnificent mausoleum, the situation and beauty of which were so ca.-
culated, he says, to astonish the traveller, after having been so long traversing a
gloomy and almost subterraneous passage through the rocks.

This wonderful monument is called by the natives Pharaoh's Castle. It is gene-
rally understood, however, to have been a sepulchre rather than a palace ; and
great, it is observed, must have been the opulence of the city, which could dedicate
such monuments to the memoiy of its rulers. A solemn lesson it is, remarks the
celebrated French artist, whose designs first made us really acquainted with the
wonders of Petra, to find that the true name of the founder of such monuments as
these has utterl)' passed away.

The impression conveyed by the descriptions of those who first explored the
Wady Mousa, leads to the notion, that the position occupied by the ancient city
was enclosed on all sides by perpendicular cliff's. But it is bounded only on the
east and west by the rocky heights, the view to the north and south being compara-
tively open. So strange and wild, however, is the surrounding scenery, that,
astonishing as are the sculptm'cd rocks, the castles, and sepulchres which have been
framed out of the solid sides of the mountains, it has been questioned by some tra-
vellers, whether deserved the greater admiration, these monuments of the past, or the
sublime features of the region, still presenting, as it has ever done, the impress of an
almost supernatural grandeur.

Exceeding iu beauty the edifice before spoken of, the structure known by the
Arabic name of El-Khuzneh, or " The Treasure," occupies a spot the magnificence
of which is said to be unequalled by any of the scenes most familiar to the imagina-
tion for their surpassing sublimity. " All at once," says Dr. Robinson, " the beauti-
ful fa5ade of the Khuzneh burst upon our view, in all the delicacy of its first chisel-
ling, and in all the freshness and beauty of its soft colouring." It was not the par-
ticular character of the architecture in itself; not the purity of the style, or the
nature of the ornaments ; but the beauty of the whole in its general effect, which so
charmed the observer. " I was perfectly fascinated," says the writer above quoted
" with this splendid work of ancient ai"t in this wild spot ; and the idea of it was up-
permost in my mind during the day, and all the night. In the morning, I returned,
and beheld it again with increased admiration. There it strands, as it has stood for
ages, in beauty and lonelmess. The generations which admired and rejoiced over
it of old, have passed away, The wild Arab as he wanders by, regards it with
stupid indifference or scorn ; and none are left but strangers from far distant lands
to do it reverence. Its rich roseate tints, as I bade it farewell, were hghted up and
gilded by the mellow beams of the morning sun ; and I turned away fi-om it at
length, with an impression which will be effaced only at death."*

* Biblical Researches, vol. ii. p. 519.

3 F

202 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

Other travellers speak in similar terms of the singular beauty which these won-
derful structures derive from the splendid hues of the rock in which they are
formed. " The whole stonj' rampart," says Mr. Stephens, " which encircled the
city, was of a peculiarity and beauty that I never saw elsewhere ; being a dark
ground, with veins of white, blue, red, purple, and sometimes scarlet and light
orange, running through it in rainbow streaks ; and within the chambers, where
there had been no exposure to the action of the elements, the freshness and beauty
of the colours in which these waving lines were drawn, gave an effect hardly inferior
to that of the paintings in the tombs of the kings at Thebes. From its high and
commanding position, and the unusual finish of the work, this house, if so it may be
called, had no doubt been the residence of one who had strutted his hour of brief
existence among the wealthy citizens of Petra. In front was a large table of rock,
forming a sort of court for the excavated dwelling, where, probably, year after year,
in this beautiful climate, the Edomite of old sat under the gathering shades of
evening, sometimes looking down upon the congregated thousands, and the stirring
scenes in the theatre beneath, or beyond upon the palaces and dwellings in the area
of the then populous city."*

The theatre alluded to in this passage is wholly hewn out of the rock. This
must have been a work of immense labour. According to the measm-emcnts given
by Irby and Mangles, the diameter of the podium is one hundred and twenty feet,
the number of seats is thirty-three, and that of the cunii three. There was no break,
it is added, and there were, therefore, no vomitories. Laborde states that the place
of the stage could be easily traced ; but Irby and Mangles lament that, this portion
of the theatre having been built, and not excavated, the whole had fallen, the bases
of four columns only remaining of the interior of the edifice. These authors all
agree in remarking the singular fact, that the theatre is siurounded by sepulchres.
' Every avenue leading to it is full of them ; and it may be safely asserted, that a hun-
dred of those of the largest dimensions are visible from it.' Strange must have
been the dispositions of the people who could so habituate themselves to the idea
of death, as tranquilly to contemplate its abodes from the benches of a theatre ! t

Considerable doubt is entertained as to the character, or design, of some of the
excavations of Petra. Burckhardt regarded El-Khuzneh as a magnificent tomb.
By other writers it is confidently described as a splendid residence. The same re-
mark appUes to several other excavations. One especially is spoken of. It pre-

* Incidents of Travel, chap. xxi. " Quel est done ce peuple qui ouvrait la montagne pour y apposer
ainsi le sceau de sa force et de son genie ? Et quel est ce climat qui dore de ses rayons les formes
gracieuses de ces sculptures sans pemiettre h ses hivers d'en rompre les vives aretes, d'en amoindrir
le haut relief? " — Voyage de I'Arabie I'ctrce par Laborde, p. 57.

+ A Journal of Travels, chap. viii. Laborde, Voyage, p. 5G. Burckhardt considered that the
theatre was capable of holding about three thousand spectators. He found the area fiUed up with
gravel, brought down by the winter torrents. — Travels, p. 427. Lord Lindsay says that the theatre is
grander than might be supposed from Laborde's Sketch. — Letters, vol. ii. p. 35.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 203

sents a front with four windows, with a large and lofty doorway in the centre. In
the interior, is a chamber near sixty feet in length, extending across three of the
windows, and the door ; while at the lower end, the fourth window seems to have
belonged to a very small sleeping-room. This is said to be, in appearance, the
most important of all the excavated residences in the valley ; but it is wholly desti-
tute of any external ornament. The entrance to it is by a narrow path, or shelf,
cut out of the side of the mountain. Other dwellings of au inferior character are
connected with it ; but it would be difficult to tell whether some of the grottoes, as
described by Irby and Mangles, were intended for the dead or the living. The
greater number of them are near au angle of the mountain, where the bed of the
river passes into a narrow defile. Along the rugged sides of this path of the tor-
rent is " a sort of excavated suburb, consisting of very small and mean chambers,
set one above another, without much regularity, hke so many pigeon-holes in the
rock, with flights of steps, or narrow inclined planes leading up to them." The
main wall and ceiling only of some of them are in the solid rock; the fronts
and partitions being formed with cement, and exhibiting but bad specimens of
masonry.*

The largest of the sepulchres as described by these travellers had originally three
stories, the lowest story being ornamented with four portals, divided by large
columns. In the second and third stories, the facade was decorated with eighteen
Ionic pillars. The rock not being of sufficient height for the entire elevation, a
part of the upper story was formed of masonry, and this for the most, has yielded
to time, and the action of the atmosphere. Of the four chambers on the basement
floor, the distribution and arrangement are said to be very different. They have no
communication with each other, but each offers convincing proofs of its original
adaptation to sepulchral purposes. Near this excavation is another, of great in-
terest and beauty. Though generally symmetrical in its form, it presents irregida-
rities which can only be accounted for on the supposition, that, as the chambers
within were in nowise connected with each other, they were intended to become
the tombs of different famiUes, and were, therefore, decorated according to individual
taste.

A triumphal arch, and some other monuments indicative of the extent and
grandeur of the ancient city, are also spoken of by the travellers to whom we are
indebted for our knowledge of Petra. But the most important next to El-Kliuzneh,
is an excavated temple called " The Deir." This stnicture stands in a remote part
of the valley, and is only reached by a narrow and difficult path, running along a
ravine of the wildest character. The Deir is hewn out of the face of the rock, and
occupies the highest range of the mountain crags. Its facade is said to be wider
than that of El-Khuzneh. In the three compartments into which the upper part is

* A Journal of Travels, chap. viii.

204 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE

divided, are niches intended for statues; and the entire surface of the monument is
covered with various species of ornaments.

But. ambitious as the architect of this structure, if so it niaj- be called, seems tc
have been to load it with decorations, the interior exhibits, like that of El-Khuzneh,
the utmost degree of plainness and simplicity- It consists of only one large square
chamber, the walls of which are smooth and unbroken, except by a single arched
niche, which is- approached by two or three steps on each side, and may be sup-
posed, from its appearance, to have been intended for an altar.* That it was once
so occupied is rendered probable from the traces which may still be discovered of a
cross; and though there is little doubt that the place was originally devoted to
heathen worship, there is every reason to believe that it was used as a chapel by
llie Christians who dwelt about these valleys in the middle ages.

Impressively grand and beautifid as are the several characteristics of the vale of
Petra, they are rendered still more so by the peculiar richness of the foliage, which
covers many portions of the rocks, filling the wildest nooks of the ravine with the
deepest-tinted verdure of oriental summer, and casting over the whole a sadly beau-
tiftU, a sweet and solemn aspect of immortality in the midst of ruin. In describing
one of the romantic passes through the narrowest part of the valley, Lord Lindsay
says, " Lofty crags, almost perpendicular, tower on each side ; deep fissures yawn-
ing in their breasts, tufted with evergreens, and single isolated rocks guarding the
pass like centinels. The road winds through a thick wood of sedder, an-ah, ole-
ander, and accacia-trees, besides others of which I know not the names, presenting
every shade of green." t Of a similar spot, Irby and Mangles say, "The screaming
of the eagles, hawks, and owls, which were soaring above our heads in considerable
numbers, seemingly annoyed at any one's approaching their lonely habitations,
added much to the singularity of the scene. The tamarisk, the wild fig, and the
oleander grow luxiniantly about the road, rendering the passage often difficult. In
some places they hang down most beautifully from the cliffs and crevices where
they have taken root. The cape-plant was also in luxuriant growth." J

The language of Mr. Stephens still more strongly depicts the marvellous mixture
of grandeur, beauty, and sadness which characterize Wady Mousa- For about
two miles, he says, the valley nms between precipitous ranges of rocks, the height
of which varies from five hundred to a thousand feet. In some places two horsemen
could barely pass abreast. Between these overhanging precipices a noisy, foaming
stream dashes along, like a lion escaped from the toils. On the rocky sides of
the cliffs wild fig-trees, oleanders, and ivy were giowiiig in dense luxuriance, many
hundreds of feet above the head of the traveller, while far beyond the highest pinnacle
of the mountains, the eagle was screaming, as rejoicing in his power to look down
upon the crumbling ruins of man's proudest efforts, and on the evanescent glory ot

" Biblical Researches, vol. ii. p. 537. t Letters, vol. ii. p. 41. t Journal, cli

lap.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 205

even nature herself. Speaking of the principal temple in the valley, Mr. Stephens
says, " Even now that I have returned to the pursuits and thought-engrossing inci-
dents of a life in the busiest city in the world, often in situations as widely different
as light from darkness, I see before me the fa5ade of that temple. Neither the
Coliseum at Rome, grand and interesting as it is, nor the ruins of the Acropolis at
Athens, nor the Pyramids, nor the mighty temples of the Nile, are so often present
to my memorj-."

The danger and difficulty attending a visit to Petra have been stated by all the
travellers who have hitherto accomplished it. Burckhardt foimd himself watched at
every step ; and the moment he turned out of the direct path to examine one of the
monuments, his guide exclaimed, "I see now clearly, that you are an infidel, who
have some particular business amongst the ruins of the city of your forefathers.
But depend upon it, we shall not sufler you to take out a single para of all the
treasures liidden here, for they are in our temtory, and belong to us." Nothing
could convince the Arab that the traveller had come, inspired only by cmiosity, to
explore the antiquities of the valley. The idea was rooted in the minds of the
people generally, that the strangers who sought to examine the ruins were the de-
scendants of the former inhabitants of the region, and were preparing to claim both
the lands and the hidden treasures of the sepulchres. To this was added a beliel' that
many of these visitors were possessed of magical powers, and that it was, therefore,
hardly sufficient to watch their movements ; for, according to the common notion, the
well-skilled magician has only just to look at the spot where the gold and silver are hid,
to enable him by his spells to abstract it at his leisure, or to compel the guardian of
the treasure to appear before him, and spread the precious store at his feet.* It is
of little use to invite the Arabs to see whether any attempt be made to look for
money; they immediately answer, "Of course you will not dare to take it out before
us ; but we know that if you be a skilful magician, you will order it to follow you
through the air, to whatever place you please." Burckhardt states that even the
most liberal-minded Turks of Syria reason in the same manner, and the more tra-
vellers they see, the stronger is their conviction that their object is to search for
treasures. Maon delayl, " He has indications of treasure with him," is an expres-
sion continually heard.

Few travellers have visited Petra in so lonely and unprotected a state as Burck-
hardt. Their perils have accordingly had a different character; but still they
would have been sufficient to appal men whose nerves had not derived a peculiar
tension from the mighty influence of long travel, and the growing force of curiosit}-,
or the spirit of inquiiy.

Money appears to be the main object with the Arab chiefs in their intercourse with
strangers. They have now probably given up the hope of discovering the treasures

* Travels, p. 428.

3 6

OQg THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

supposed to be hidden in the ancient monuments ; and seem resolved on compen-
sating themselves by making every traveller tributary to their power. Dr. Robinson
and his party were exposed to the exactions of the aged Arab chief, from whom
Irby and Mangles, twenty years before, suffered similar treatment. From the
accounts given by all those who have encountered the Bedouins about Wady
MoHsa, both discretion and courage seem necessary to ward off their attacks.
They now speak less of their apprehensions from the power of magii, than of
iheir right to claim a tribute of every one who sets foot upon the soil, whether
m the valley or on the desert, over which they roam. Mr. Stephens says, that
among all the pictures and descriptions of robbers and bandits he had ever seen,
none had struck him as " so unprepossessing as a party of desert Arabs coming
down upon the traveller on their dromedaries." But, he adds, " one soon gets over
the effect of their dark and scowling visages ; and, after becoming acquainted with
their weapons and bodily strength, a man of ordinary vigour, well armed, feels no
little confidence in himself among them. They are small in stature, under our
middle size, and thin almost to emaciation. Their breast-bones stand out very
prominently ; the ribs are as distinctly perceptible as the bars of a gridiron, and
their empty stomachs seem drawn up till they touch the backbone." So also their
weapons are said to be ugly enough, but far from really formidable. The sheik
was the only one in the party here spoken of who carried pistols, and they were not
in a state to be readily discharged. Swords and matchlock guns were the weapons
of the rest. The guns, it is observed, could not be fired till a light had been struck,
and this is not the work of a moment ; so that, says Mr. Stephens, " although these
inconvenient implements do well enough for contests with their brother Bedouins,
the odds are very much against them, when they have to do with a well-
armed Frank. Two pairs of good pistols, and a double-barrelled gun, would
have been a match (let the unintentional pun be pardoned) for all our matchlock
muskets."

The account given by Mr. Kinnear, who visited Wady Mousa in the year 1839,
shows that the dispositions of the Arabs were but little changed since the first
appearance of Franks in the country. He and his party had engaged the services
of the aged sheik Hussein, who was to accompany them, with a sufficient guard, for
4,500 piasters. The demand originally made by the sheik amounted to 11,250
piasters, or about ^112. When it was represented to him that he had taken other
travellers for half that sum, he coolly rephed, " The agreement was then made at
Musr, in the house of your consul : you are treating with me in the desert." On
arriving in the neighbourhood of Wady Mousa, Hussein desired the party to leave
their tents and luggage behind, that nothing might impede their retreat, should the
Fellaheen come upon them. When answered, that they would not leave a man behind,
nor even a tent-pin or a stick, the old sheik exchunied, " You are mad ; you are all
mad, all you Franks ; but 1 never heaid of such madness as this. Do you all v/ant

THE CHBISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 207

lo be killed ?" " What are these Fellahs," was the rejoinder, " that they should kill
us, when we are under your protection, sheik?" "Who are they?" he instantly
answered. " What are they ? May their lathers be accursed ! But you cannot do
this. I will not go. Other Franks leave all these arrangements with me, and so
must you." " See, O sheik," was the reply ; " we are under your protection, and not
under your command. We do not care what other Franks have done. We have
told you what we will do. Shall we say a thing and not do it ? " *

Having thus resolved upon pursuing their own course, the travellers set forward.
Hussein, finding his remonstrances useless, pointed out a naiTow path by which
those who were inclined might reach the valley on foot, sooner than it coidd be pos-
sible for the loaded camels to arrive. His instructions were followed ; but the tra-
vellers had not gone far before they were startled by loud shouts behind them; and
looking back they saw that they were pursued by a body of strange Arabs. These
were Fellaheen, of whom Hussein had given so terrific an account. They were
fifteen in number ; had a most savage expression of countenance ; were all anned
with guns, and each wore in his girdle the long, crooked, murderous-looking Arab
knife. Surrounding the travellers, they poured forth a torrent of the most tenible
threats, and declared that every kind of torture should be inflicted on the strangers
if they dared to proceed. But in a little while the whole affair was peaceably
arranged. The chief of the Fellahs represented that the travellers had no right
to enter his territory without paying him tribute. When asked what he demanded,
he asked for a thousand piasters ; but was made contented with three hundred.

This will serve to give the reader some idea of the annoyances and dangers en-
countered by the travellers who have extended their journey to this remote region of
Palestine. Mr. Bartlett, who visited Petra with as little protection as Burckhardt
himself, and contemplated its monuments with a similar earnest spirit, escaped
the worst perils of the route by not exciting attention to his progi-ess.

But whether alone or in company ; whether subjected to countless exactions and
dangers, or passing uninterrupted through the valley, every traveller speaks in the
same tone of profound wonder and delight, when recounting what he saw, what he
thought, and felt when contemplating its wild glens, its awful precipices, and mo-
numental cliffs. The peculiar tendency of the German Schubert's mind, inclined
him to give that mystic colouring to his description of these scenes which so well
harmonizes with their general character. He beheld in every object which pre-
sented itself to his observation as he travelled through this region, something
which spoke of ancient holiness and eteraal truth. He rejoiced at finding himself
on the borders of the land in which Job and his friends had their dwellings.
Nature, in her outward aspect, and in her own peculiar way, there reveals to the
meditative soul, the same great facts wliich are found recorded in the life of the

• Cairo, Petra, and Damascus in 1839, p. 124.

•208 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

patriarch.* The character of the scenery ; everything which has form and hfe in
that mysterious region, tells of dispensations when providence, employing symbols,
gave to whatever could awaken thought a more marvellous beauty or distinctness.
Thus the valluy of Petra is described as a gigantic hall, which nature has filled with
architectural forms peculiar to her own plastic and creative art. The walls of this
magnilicent saloon are covered with oriental decorations of the fairest hues; and
here may be seen the traces of genius, working from generation to generation, and
showing how it lias delighted, from the eai-liest ages, to pursue its labours in this
region of solemn wonders.

Koman artists, of the times of Hadrian and Antoninus Pius, are supposed to have
been the latest of those who here sought to harmonize the expression of human
sentiment with the primitive and eternal language of nature. The first who em-
ployed the energies of genius in this task, so worthy of its noblest powers, were
the descendants of those who " dwelt in the clefts of the rock ; who held the height
of the hill, and made their nest as lofty as the eagle." t

Such is Petra, — such is Wady Mousa, — the city and valley over which the
divine decrees so long suspended an impenetrable veil of obscurity. That the
veil has been drawn aside, so as to permit the inquirers of our age and generation,
to contemplate these sepulchral solitudes, to trace their sculptured depths and
labyrinths, may rightly appear to the thoughtful mind as one among many other
indications of the approach to the opening of a new era in the plans of providence.
It was not without design, that the scenes to which the revolutions of remote ages
had given a pecuUar interest should be closed to the observation of the world, while
characterized, for the most part, by an uninquiring, or an untractable, spirit of infi-
delity. Nor is it less designedly that these same scenes, connected as they are
with the march of prophetic events, should be again laid open, now that the
reviving power of faith is preparing the minds of men for a nearer and more thought-
ful contemplation of God's dealings with the human race. Though the eye might
rest in rapt amazement on Zion ; though it might survey with tender awe and emo-
tion the vale of Nazareth, the broad plain of Esdrajlon, and the sublime heights of
Tabor, all marked by traces of the one great plan of heavenly providence ; the view
would be incomplete, did it not extend to that region in which the Almighty dis-
played his severest judgments, and, cutting it off from the rest of the land, doomed
it to lie waste and dark, till the dawn of a new era should awaken hope even for
the desolations of Edom.

• Reise in daa Morgenland, b. ii. p. 417. t Ibid. p. 426. Jer. xlix. 16.

"•Ji

a
■s.

MOUNT SINAI AND THE SURROUNDING REGION.

It is when our thoughts have become familiar with the history of tlie Holy Land
and that of its people, in the various stages of their progress, that the mind can best
understand the sublime character of the events of which Sinai, and the region
around it, was the scene. Deep as must be the feeling of awe with which, under
any circumstances, the mysterious heights of this mountain are contemplated, the
sentiment will assume a grander tone when connected with that long line of associ-
ations, which link the giving of the law with all that is most important, not merely in
the single chapter, momentous as it is, of Jewish history, but in the universal
history of mankind.

The country which intervenes between Edom and the region of Sinai was, " that
great and terrible wilderness," that land of wonders, of chastisement, and instruction,
in which the wisdom of God ordained that his people should pass so many years of
probation. Numerous efforts have been made to determine the course pursued by
the Israelites in their wanderings. The difRculty of the subject is shown in the very
word here employed. It was not a journey which the Israelites were making; but
a long and painful progress through a region, the tortuous valleys, the wastes and
rugged hills of which were to be traversed and retraversed till the appointed season
of trial was fulfilled. Though the valuable inquiries, therefore, of such men as
llaumer, Schubert, Robinson, and some others, have served to point out the pro-
bable course of the people as to the main divisions of their route, it seems but a
doubtful speculation to endeavour to fix the exact path of their wanderings. The
intimation given of their being a second time at Kadesh, may suggest to us the pro-
bability of their having visited other placesmore than once, and by different routes.
It was said by the holy and heroic leader of the people in these memorable wan-
derings, " When we departed from Iloreb, we went through all that great and ter-
rible wilderness, which ye saw by the way of the mountain of the Amorites, as the
Lord our God commanded us. And we came to Kadesh-barnea. And I said unto
you. Ye are come unto the mountain of the Amorites, which the Lord our God doth
give unto us. Behold the Lord thy God hath set the land before thee : go up and
possess it. Fear not, neither be discouraged."* In the more particular mention of

• Deut.i. 19—21

3 H

210 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

llie places through which they passed, the sacred writer especially notes the wilder-
ness of Paraii. Thus it is said, " The children of Israel took their journeys out of
the wilderness of Sinai, and the cloud rested in the wilderness of Paran;"* and the
spies who had been sent to explore the land of Canaan, came, on their return,
to "Moses and to Aaron, and to all the congregation of the children of Israel unto
the wilderness of Paran, to Kadesh."t

From the manner in which the wilderness of Paran is thus spoken of, it is sup-
posed that it may have been the general name for the whole district, extending
from the Sinaitic range of mountains up to the borders of the promised land. It
would not be consistent with the natui'e or design of this work to enter into any
geographical details. We have only, therefore, to describe the main features of
the region which the traveller passes in pursuing his route from the country of the
Edomites to Sinai. The eaiiier portion of the way is through a sandy valley, dark
and desolate. As he continues his course, he finds himself approaching the
'Arabah, a plain, about four geographical miles in width, barren, and bordered by
lofty mountains. The soil is chiefly composed of sand, mixed with the debris of
granite, poi-phyry, and greenstone. | It is as baiTen for the most part as the desert.
In some few spots a little thin grass covers the ground, and here and there a kind
of broom, and other thorny shmbs, are found among the rocks. The 'Arabah is
supposed to be the way of the plain from Elath, and from Ezion-gaber, and foimed,
it is probably conjectured, the valley of the Jordan, before the destruction ol' the
cities of the plain. §

On arriving at the northern extremity of the Elanitic gulf of the Red Sea, the
anxious look of the wear)- traveller is greeted by the appearance of an ancient castle,
affording him the prospect of comfort and repose after his painful journey through
the waste 'Arabah. This is the famous fortress of Akabah : occupying it is sup-
posed, the site of Elath, and looking down upon the scene of many a stming event
both in the times of the Israehtes, and in those of the Crusaders. The castle,
which is said to have been built by the heroic Saladin, rises from the midst of a
grove of palm-trees ; and the wild scenery around is softened by an air of beauty,
strikingly contrasted with the character of the country a little beyond the fortress.
Schubert says, that he stood and contemjilated the shores of the sea, and listened
to its echoing waves, as the north wind impelled them between the cliffs, with a
feeling which was altogether strange and new. Close at hand, and lit up with the
dazzhng rays of the mid-day sun, lay the wonderful ruins of the rocky island
Jezirat Phaiauu, which the rulers of Idumaea and Israel, and those of Egypt, had at
different times covered with buildings. || Over other ruins by the sea, lying to the
north-west of the island, strewed like white bones along the clifls, rose a flock of
sea-gulls : to the north were the green palm-groves of Akabah ; behind, almost to the

* Num. X. 12. t Num. xiii. 26. J Schubert, Reise in das Morgeulaud, b. ii. p. 3!»(i.

§ Kinnear, Let. iv. p. 115. || Schubert, b. ii. p. 384.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINK. 2ll

east, appeared the steep path by which the pilgrim passes over the mountains ; while
in the west might be seen the opening into the desert of Tyh, the wilderness of
wandering, the giant-gates of the place of graves.

The little island of Jezirat Pharaun lies only about three hundred feet from the
shore, and looks as if it could be reached by means of the rocks which, at low-water,
are seen above the waves. It is formed of two conical hills, about one hundred
feet in height, and connected together by a narrow shp of low flat land. A ruined
wall runs round the whole circumference of the island, four squai-e towers, appa-
rently of Saracenic origin, intimating the care with which it was formerly defended.
An inner wall with turrets and loop-holes incloses a sort of citadel, and the entire
island has the air of one of the vast old castles, to which the traditions of the middle
ages lend so romantic a character. The few travellers who have explored the
island found several of the buildings on it separated from each other by strong
walls. In some of the chambers of the larger ruins are marble pUlars and tables ;
and it is hence supposed that, while at one time the island formed a strong military
hold, it was also occasionally tenanted at others by luxurious princes, and their
followers.*

It is probable that in ancient times this island was a place of considerable im-
portance. Traces have been discovered here of a well-constructed haven ; and as
this seems to be the only part of the northern end of the gulf which could afford a
safe anchorage for ships, it is believed by some writers that this was the site of
Eziou-gaber, where Solomon budt the ships with which he traded to the rich ports
of Ophir. In the middle ages, Jezirat Pharaun was known as the fortress of Ailah,
and when Ilainald, with a bold party of Crusaders, in the year 1182, made a sudden
descent on this district, he endeavoured to possess himself of the island as neces-
sary to secure his conquest.t In this attempt he was defeated by the rapid move-
ments of ^lalek el Adel, the brother of Saladin. Ships were conveyed by means of
camels from the port of Alexandiia to the coast of the Arabian Gulf, and Rainald
only saved himself by a speedy retreat.

The Castle of Akabah derives its importance from being one of the line of
fortresses established for the convenience of pilgiims from Egypt to Mecca.
Here, and in similar castles along their route, they find new stores of provisions ;
fresh supplies of water, and other helps to the accomplishment of their painful
jouraey. As a place of defence, it is sufficiently strong to defy the assaults of the
rude warriors who roam the neighbouring deserts, and who possess none of the
ordinary means of attempting a siege. But the accumulation of sand-hills on the
eastern side is daily lessening its security ; and some bold marauder of the wilder-
ness may sooner or later make it the object of a fierce adventure.

From Akabah, the accustomed path winds for some distance along the shore of

* Schubert, Reise in das Morgenknd, b. iL p. 378. t Wilkeu Gescliichte der Kreuzzuge, b. iii. p. 222.

•2 12 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

the gulf. The scenen- is strange and grand ; and in a few hours the road presents
every variety of stern sublimity and picturescjue loveliness. Having passed the in-
tervening mountains, the traveller enters upon the district of Huddra. " Never,"
says Lord Lindsay, " did 1 see such a dismal wilderness. It is neither mountain
nor valley, though the Bedouins call it both indifferently, but one vast mass of arid
rock; sometimes split into deep ravines, presenting perpendicular walls on either
side, and smooth as if cut down like a hay-rick, yet honeycombed in long, narrow,
parallel lines, resembling at a distance friezes of Egyptian hieroglyphics ; some-
times a succession of isolated rocks, crumbling, as it were, with decay, jagged as if
an ocean had torn its way between them, and generally shapeless, though one, as we
])assed it, singularly resembled a criosjihinx. I have not a doubt that Burckhardt is
right in his conjecture, that this is the Hazeroth of Moses, where Miriam — nay, the
very rocks look stricken with lepros3'." *

The singular and awful solemnity of these scenes favours the superstitions feeling
of the Arabs, who wander among them. Burckhardt, in speaking of the narrow
plain of Nomba, which rises here from the sea to the mountains, says " Ayd told
me, that in summer, when the wind is strong, a hollow sound is sometimes heard
here, as if coming from the upper country. The Arabs say, ' that the spirit of
Moses then descends from Mount Sinai, and in flying across the sea, bids farewell
to his beloved mountains.' "t Lord Lindsay himself says, "that as he commenced
the long ascent of the Wadv Sahal, strange whispering voices, without any visible
cause ot them, echoed among the rocks ; and he relates, that as they were passing
the 'Arabah, in momentary expectation of meeting the hostile tribe of the Jellaheens,
his companion, Mr. Ramsay, a man, he observes, of remarkably strong sight, and
by no means disposed to superstitious credulity, distinctly saw a party of horse,
moving among the sand-hills ; and though we met none," adds Lord Lindsay, " and
afterwards learnt that the enemy had already passed up the valley, I do not believe
he was ever able to divest himself of the impression."

Among the solitudes thus calculated to awaken in the soul every sentiment which
can connect its feelings with the belief in an unseen world, the wandering Arab
makes his temporary abode. Mr. Stephens says, "that among the barren and de-
solate mountains of this region, there is often to be found a small spot of ground
near some fountain, or little reservoir of water, known only to the Arabs, but ca-
pable of producing a scanty crop of grass, sufficient to furnish pasture for a few
camels, and a little flock of sheep or goats." There the Bedouin pitches his tent,

* Letters, vol. ii. p. 12. Dr. Robeitson says, " the determination of this point is perhaps of more
importance in bibUeal history, than wonld at first appear; for if tliis position be adopted for Haze-
roth, it settles at once the question as to the whole route of the Israelites between Sinai and Kadesh.
It shows, that they must have followed the route upon which we now were to the sea ; and so along
the coast, to Akabah; and thence, probably, through the great Wady el Arabah to Kadesh."— Vol. i.
p. 22.3.

t Travels in Syria, p. 517.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 213

and remains till tlie scanty product is consumed. He then packs up his few house-
hold goods, and seeks another pasture ground. The Bedouins are essentially a pas-
toral people. Their only riches are their flocks and herds ; their home is in the
wide desert, and they have no local attachments. To-day they pitch their tent
among the mountains ; to-morrow in the plain : and wherever they plant them-
selves for the time, all tliat they have on earth, wife, children, and friends, are im-
mediately around them. In fact, the life of the Bedouin, his appearance and
habits, are precisely the same as those of the patriarchs of old. Abraham himself,
the first of the patriarchs, was a Bedouin ; and four thousand years have not made
the slightest alteration in the character, or habits, of this extraordinary people.
Read of the patriarchs in the Bible, and it is the best description you can have of
pastoral life in the East, at the present day."*

This traveller, hke Lord Lindsaj-, and Schubert, t was deeply impressed with the
affecting solemnity of these solitudes. " How still ! How almost fearfully still !" he
says, " was the idea constantly present to my mind. The mountains were bai-e of
verdure ; there were no shrubs or bushes, and no rustling of the wind. The quiet
was like that of the ocean in a perfect calm, when there is not a breath of air to curl
a wave, or shake the smallest fold in the lazy sail that hangs useless from the yard.
Occasionally we disturbed a hare, or a partridge ; but we had not met a human
being since we left the convent. Once we saw the track of a soUtary dromedary,
the prints of his feet deeply bedden in the sand, as if urged by one hurrying with
hot haste— perhaps some Bedouin robber, flying to his tent among the mountains,
with the plunder of some desert victim. We followed it more than an hour; and
when we lost sight of it on the rocky road, I felt as if we were more lonely than
before."

It was among these desolate mountains; through these wild valleys and their
neighbouring plains, barren as the ocean itself, that the people of Israel had to pa^s
in their journey to the land of promise. The traveller as he now wends his way to
the scene of the first great event in then: history as a covenanted people, can hardly
fail to be struck with the singular fact, that it was through a region like this that
their mystical and typical course was to be taken. Here nature speaks to the eye
and ear, to the heart and spirit, in a language calculated to awaken the dullest soul ;
and sensual and guilty, indeed, must have been the human beings who could pass
through such a land, and not leai-n to weep, to meditate, and adore.

The immediate approach to Sinai is by a steep rocky valley. t As the pilgrim

* Incidents of Travel, chap. x\-iii. + Reise in das Morgenland, b. ii. p. 352.

t The difficulty of the ascent is well described in the picturesque language of the old pilgrim. " Erat
vero adscensus lubricus, et admodum prreruptus; ita ut plerumque manibus pedibusque reptare
oporteret : cjjus reptationis labor haud facile dixerim quam gravis quamque periculosus erat, ac
indigens robusto genu. Quippe quia degvavante viatore temere jacentes lapides concedebant, et in
adeceusu raptissimo (nisi fortiter fi.\isseinus pedem) diraoto uno lapide tota congeries devolvebatur,
ac in nos revebat." — Martini ii Baumgarten in Braitenbach Peregriuatio, p. 60.

.3 1

•214 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

winds his way up the rugged ascent, he feels that no length of time can divest such
scenes of their glory or sacredness. The mountains which once shook at the
presence of the Lord, will ever, to the eye of devotion, seem to bow their heads
beneath his step. Sinai affects the mind with sentiments of the profoundest awe.
It has not been visited by those crowds of strangers, the frequent concoiurse of
which has tended to lessen the solemnity of other sacred scenes. Solitude, gloom,
and grandeur, reign around; and the time-repeated echo of the thunder which
pealed among the heights of Sinai, when the " Lord came to prove"* his people,
is now the only sound which stirs the soul of the worshipper of God as he climbs
these mysterious paths.

Mount Sinai would probably have been unvisited even by the few travellers who
have explored its majestic summit, had not the piety of early ages made its recesses
the home of Christian devotion. The noble convent, which stands among the
steepest of its precipices, is equally celebrated for the grandem* of the scenes by
which it is surrounded, and for the hospitality of its inmates. It is reached by an
abrupt path, and the entrance is nearly thirty feet above the last step of the rock by
which the traveller makes his approach. The monks, on being informed of the
arrival of any one, usually let down a cord, and require the letters which the stranger
may have brought. If these satisfy the good fathers that the pilgrim deser\'es
their hospitality, a rope is let down ; the stranger secures himself by it as well as he
can, and he is then drawn up to the narrow entrance by the sturdiest and best
skilled of the convent porters. Few emotions are more pleasurable than those of
the traveller, who, after traversing a wild and toilsome patli, in which all his feelings
have been kept in a state of intense excitement, finds himself gi-eeted by friendl)'
countenances and friendly voices.

The monastery of Mount Sinai traces its origin to the sixth century, and was
erected by the liberality of the emperor Justinian. But the whole region had for
some ages before been the resort of Christian hermits. They there enjoyed that
separation from the world, that protection against vain intruders, or cruel persecutors,
which even the desert sometimes failed to afford; and Saint Nilus, and other
anchorets of like celebrity, passed many years of solitary devotion amid these stu-
pendous scenes. No sooner, however, had the fame of the primitive recluses
become dili'used among the churches to which they belonged, than others hastened
to fix their abode on Sinai. But this concourse of venerable men, simple as were
their manners, quickly attracted the notice of the Saracens. They were assailed
by these cruel enemies with as much ferocity as if they had been foreknown as the
brethren of a future race of Crusaders. The mangled bodies of the poor monks
long lay scattered among the rocks which had so often witnessed their devotion.

Another attack was made upon the monks of Sinai about twenty years after the
former, and accompanied with circumstances equally honnble and sanguinary.

• Exodus XX. -20.

THE CHRISTIAN IX PALESTINE. 215

These occurrences induced Justinian to lay the foundation of a monastery, the
strength and situation of which might enable even a body of simple and ))eaceable
monks to resist the assault of their enemies.* The plan of tlie edifice, its fitness
for lodging a numerous garrison, and the provision made to supply the inmates with
water, and other necessaries, in case of a siege, show how well the intentions of the
emperor were fulfilled. Caution is still felt to be necessary to guard the convent
against surprise. The only entrance, as we have seen, by which strangers are
admitted, is that high up the rocks, and to which they can only ascend by the aid
of the monks. A subterranean passage has been cut through the cliffs. This
conducts into the convent garden ; but it is carefiilly guarded at each end with a
massive iron-studded gate.f

But notwithstanding the care employed to defend the monastery, the Arabs, in
the time of Baumgarten, were still a ten'or to the monks.]: One of the brethren
told him that sometimes as many as fifty in a day would force their way into the
building, and seize upon whatever food they could find. The horror with which
the monks learned to look upon the Arabs, so fi"equently guilty of these violences
and excesses, induced them to exert their growing influence with the government,
to prohibit the future impositions of their troublesome vassals or neighbours. So
stringent was the rule instituted for this purpose, that, for many years, no Arab
was allowed to enter the garden. Such was the case up to a verj' late period ; but,
according to Dr. Robinson, the Arabs are not now so stiictly excluded from the
convent, or its precincts. The sheiks, and principal men, are said to be fi-eely
admitted into the garden, and sometimes even into the monastery. A number of
serfs are still dependent upon the establishment. Of these, several live within the
walls ; and such appears to be the poverty of the rest, and of the Arabs generally in
the immediate vicinity of the convent, that no apprehension is entertained respecting
them so long as a sufficient quantity of bread can be found to answer their hungiy
clamours. " The monks of Mount Sinai," says Mr. Stephens, " are now no longer
obliged to have recourse to carnal weapons for protection. Peace reigns between
them and the Bedouins ; and part of the price of peace is the distribution of two
thousand five hundred rolls of bread among the poor around the mountain. I did
not think so much of this price when I saw the bread — hard, black, and mouldy, and
such as the meanest beggar in our country would not accept from the hand of
charity. But the Bedouins took it, and thanked God and the monks for it."

The convent has been described as representing a httle fortified town. It is built
irregularly. This probably may be accounted for by its having been enlarged at

* It is stated that Justinian sent the monks a liundred vassals from the Red Sea, and as many
more from Egypt ; but these people destroyed each other in their furious contentions. The number of
vass.ils was at length reduced to about forty. — Pococke, Description of the East, vol. i. p. l.ii.

+ Schubert, Reise in das Morgenland, b. ii. p. 308.

* Mart, a Baumgarten Peregrinatio, p. 65. " Intus e.-^iguas et vileshahens structurss, quod hodie
prophani Saraceni pro suo voto regunt, diripiunt, pessundant."

OJg THE CHRISTIAN IX PALESTINE.

different times, or altered to suit the varying circumstances of its inmates. At one
])eriod the society consisted of more than a hundred members. Lord Lindsay states
that \\hen he visited the monastery, there were not more than twenty brothers to
take their seats in the spacious refectory. Every part of the buildkig, however,
exhibits some interesting proof of the care and zeal with which it has been guai'ded
against the ravages of time, as well as other enemies. The church is spoken of as a
beautiful structure.* Its richly ornamented roof is supported by massive granite
columns, and the dome of the choir represents in mosaic-work, supposed to be as
old as the times of Justinian, our Lord's transfiguration on the mount. The walls
are covered with the pictures of saints, among which are some very ancient specimens
of the old Greek style, so common in the middle ages. A splendid candelabrum,
presented by Elizabeth of Kussia, ornaments and lights the nave ; while the reading-
desks, which are of tortoiseshell inlaid with mother-of-pearl, afford further proofs
of the pious liberality employed in decorating this remote mountain sanctuaiy —
this monument of Christian devotion, the foundations of which are the rocks which
trembled at the first thunders of the law.

Tradition has been as busy among the crags and precipices of Sinai as in Jeru-
salem, or the "N'alley of Jehoshaphat. Thus a little chapel, within the walls of the
convent, is said to be erected on the very spot where the Lord appeared to Moses
in the burning bush ; t and a shrub is still growing behind the altar, to which the
monks point with reverential feelings, beheving it to have sprung from the roots of
that illuminated by the divine presence. The chapel itself is very gorgeously orna-
mented. On the altar lies a New Testament, in modem Greek, very superbly
bound ; and it may be hoped from this circumstance, and from the display of
copies of the Scriptures in other parts of the monastery, that, amid all their regard
for relics and traditions, the good monks have a i'ar profounder love for the piu-e
word of God.

The library is not supposed to be rich in manuscripts of any great antiquity or
value. Some, however, it contains which the scholar might examine with a fair
prospect of reward. A copy of Chiysostom, in several volumes, all written in the same
hand, is found here, and may, perhaps, be examined hereafter by some Benedictine
to the advantage of religious learning. Travellers also speak of a magnificent manu-
script of the Gospels, in capital, or uncial letters of gold, as a treasure of which the
fathers of the con\ent are justly proud. We have no account of the source from

* Pococke says that this church is probably a very perfect model of an ancient Greek church. The
east semicircle has round it three degrees of seats, like steps, and in the middle the archiepiscopal
chair. A variety of beautiful and costly marbles, brought hither from Damascus, are also mentioned
by this traveller; who further states, that the original marble pavement having been destroyed by the
Turks, looking for treasures, it was restored with great splendour by the archbishop Athanasius in the
seventeenth century. — Description of the East, vol. i. p. 150.

+ The traveller is expected to take off his shoes on approaching this venerated spot. — Lord Lindsay,
vol. i. p. 3-12. Schubert says, " It needed not the au.xious look of our aged guide to induce me to
take off my shoes here. I had already been led to do so by the words which He in the flaming bush
sjjoke to Moses."— Reisc, b. ii. p. 309.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 217

wliicli these literary relics have been derived. Their history would probably furnish
some very cuiious illustrations of the state of letters in the middle ages, and some
still more interesting proofs of the healthfulness and vigour of individual minds in
obscme comers of the earth, while the great masses of mankind were lying in
darkness.

The stranger who has time to linger among the courts of this mountain sanctuarv,
is often more amused than edified by the importance attached to objects for which
his cool and chastened imagination can feel no interest. Few, however, will fail to
experience some emotion as they contemplate the sarcophagus of Ann of Russia,
whose last and most ardent desire it was to have her remains deposited in this mo-
nastery. A solemn and sacred sentiment it must be which moves the heart, when,
surrounded by the fascinating scenes of the world, and long wedded to its habits
and luxnries, it pants for sohtude, and indulges the feeling that the repose even of
the mouldering frame will be more profound and happier, if it rests where silence is
only broken by prayer.

it is a curious circumstance that a httle mosque was built about three hundred
years ago close to the monastery. The annals of the institution record that it was
erected to give the spot a degree of sacredness in the eyes of the Turks, and so
prevent their making any destructive attack upon the buildings in the vicinity.

But nothing appears to have left a deeper impression on the minds of travellers
in these regions, than the exquisite beauty of the convent gardens. Here the
splendours of an oriental clime are blended with the freshest verdure of temperate
lands. The mountain breeze mm'niurs among the branches of cypresses and
orange-trees, reminding the northern pilgrim of his home, while contemplating the
product of the most ardent suns. Spring, when Schubert* visited these delicious
grounds, was pouring along the valley all the fulness of its strength. The almond-
trees and peach-trees had covered the paths with their falling blossoms. Every
breath of wind brought down a fresh shower of the tinted leaves. The apricot and
cherry-trees seemed only just opening into bloom; and pears and apples still
lay slumbering in the cradle of their fine large white buds, t In the midst of all
this beauty, rose the dark-green boughs of the cypress ; and in a recess of the
garden, low down in the valley, a httle wood of orange-trees mingled its odorous
sweetness with the cool breath of the waters collected in well-filled cisterns.

In speaking of Sinai, it should be observed, that great doubts are entertained
by bibUcal inquirers as to the exact portion of the region which ought to be re-
garded as Sinai. Horeb and Saint Catherine, are two connected elevations, and
may either of them lay claim to the distinctive appellation by which the range is
more generally known. According to the common accounts, Horeb occupies the

* Reise in das Jlorgenland, b. ii. p. 307.

+ Noch schliunmernd in der wiege der grossen, weissen Knospen lagen.

218

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

rioitliern, and Sinai the southern extremity of the ridge, both Siuai and Mount
Saint Catherine rising to a considerable height above Horeb. It is at the base of
this latter moantain that the monastery is situated, and on its capacious brow
rested the glory of the Lord, if the most intelligent travellers be right in their con-
jectures, at the giving of the law. The term Sinai was anciently appUed to the
whole region ; and hence there is no contradiction between the one statement, that
the law was given on Siuai, and the other, that Mount Horeb was the actual scene
of that august event. Thus it is said, " Mount Sinai was altogether in a smoke,
because tlie Lord descended upon it in fire ; and the smoke thereof ascended as
the smoke of a furnace, and the whole mount quaked greatly .... And the Lord
came down upon IMount Sinai, on the top of the mount."* But in the book of
Deuteronomy we read: "The Lord our God spake unto us in Horeb, saying. Ye
have dwelt long enough in this mount :"t and, " The day that thou stoodest before
the Lord thy God in Horeb, when the Lord said unto me, Gather me the people to-
gether, and I will make them hear my words, that they may learn to fear me all the
days that they shall live upon the earth, and that they may teach their children.
And ye came near, and stood under the mountain; and the mountain burned with
fire unto the midst of heaven, with darkness, clouds, and thick darkness." J

Clear, however, as these expressions are, the tradition of many ages has pointed
to the far loftier summit of Sinai, strictly so called, as the height upon which the
Lord descended, and conversed with his servant Moses. It has hence received
the appellation of Jebel Miisa, or the Mount of Moses ; and no doubt seems to
ha"e been entertained by the pilgrims of the middle ages, or of even a much earlier
period, that it was rightly so called. Mahometan tradition appears to have agreed
entirely with the Christian in this respect; and Dr. Robinson candidly acknow-
ledges the effect which the common beUef exercised on his mind. But having as-
cended the mount, his first emotion, he tells us, was one of disappointment. He
had hitherto retained a certain degree of feeling in favour of the opinion, founded
on the cuiTcnt tradition of at least fifteen centuries. The result, however, of his
examination of the locality was, that not the shghtest reason exists " for supposing
that Moses had anything to do with the summit which now bears his name."
He states, that the mount here spoken of is three miles distant from the plain on
which the Israelites must have stood ; and that it is hidden from it by the iutenen-
ing peaks of the Mount now known as Horeb.

Thus one of the most striking circumstances in corroboration of the opinion here
advanced, is derived from the fact, that the summit of Sinai, pointed out as that on
which divine wisdom displayed its presence more signally even than divine power,
overlooks no part of the plain on which the hosts of Israel are supposed to ha\e

* Exodus xjx. 18-20. t Chap. i. C. J Chap. iv. 10, 11.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 2l'J

been assembled. It may also be suggested, that there is no reason for supposing,
that a scene would have been chosen for the manifestation of the glory of the pre
sent Deity, the approach to which would have been prohibited by natural difficul-
ties. The style of the narrative leads to a contrary conclusion. Sinai, as now
pointed out, could scai-ceiy have been reached by the mass of the multitude joui--
neying through the wilderness. But there is a valley, with an open space, at the
foot of Horeb, sufficiently broad to have received the hosts of Israel. " We were
surprised, as well as gratified," says Dr. Robinson, " to find here, in the innermost
recesses of these dark gi'anite cliffs, this fine plain spread out before the mountain;
and I know not when I have felt a thrill of stranger emotion than when, in first
crossing the plain, the dark precipices of Horeb rising in solemn grandeur before
us, we became aware of the entire adaptedness of the scene to the puqjoses for
which it was chosen by the great Hebrew legislator. Moses, doubtless, during the
forty years in which he kept the flocks of Jethro, had often wandered over these
mountains, and was well acquainted with their valleys and deep recesses, like the
Arabs of the present day." *

Lofty and precipitous as is Sinai, Mount Saint Catherine rises to a far gi-eater
height. The ascent to its summit has been a trial of strength and devotion to tra-
vellers from the earliest times. Though covered almost to the very top \vith ver-
dure, it terminates in a rough, solid granite rock, defying the further ascent of the
pilgrim, unless his step derive singular firmness from the spirit of enthusiasm or ad-
venture. By a httle company of wanderers, inspired by some feeling of this kind,
a place of prayer was erected on the rocky pinnacle of the moimtain; and there
it still stands, after having braved with its rude walls the storms of unnumbered
ages.

The view from Mount Saint Catherine is vast and sublime. Immediately below
and around it, the huge crags of the sister mountains assume the appearance of
gigantic cities, with their Babel-like towers and monuments heaped up in tre-
mendous ruin. Looking beyond this wilderness of hills, the eye is able to trace
the forms of the distant Afiican mountains; the Gulf of Akabah, and even that of
■Suez. But indescribably sublime as are the heights of this mountain, they have
been almost unvisited by the spirit of tradition. The only legend of any note con-
nected with its scenes is that of the saint fiom whom it derives its name. During
one of the early persecutions, it is said, to which the Christians were subjected in
Egypt, Catherine, a beautiful and devout virgin, was seized among those who would
neither deny their faith nor flee. Having been tied to the rack, and exposed to
the most dreadful torture, the wheel broke. This, howe\er, only so far affected the
minds of tJiose charged with her execution, as to induce them to let her be be-

• Biblical Researches, vol. i. pp. l.')4 — 1/6.

OOQ THE CHRISTIAN IX PALESTINE.

headed. Before cousigning herself to death, she prayed that her body might be
saved from the hands of the heathen, and conveyed to Smai. Her prayer, it is
added, was heard. Angels bore her spotless frame to the sacred mountain, and
there, on the steep pathway to its highest peak, left it for a time to give an additional
sacredncss to the scene. But the monks of the neighboming valley resolved to
provide her a more gorgeous sepulture. They began the search for her remains,
and discovered them. As they were descending the mountain with the precious
burden, a sudden rustling of pai-tridges directed their attention to a little covert of
hawthorn-trees among the ledges of the rock. They entered the shade, and there
found for their reward a sparkling fountain of the coolest and purest water.

Tradition has been far more busy in other parts of the region. The cave is still
pointed out in which Elijah is said to have dwelt, when, in obedience to the divine
admonition, he went, " unto Horeb, the Mount of God."* A deserted convent,
long known as the Convent of the Forty, preserves the memory of some holy men
who in the early persecutions fell martyrs to the savage tyranny of a heathen em-
peror. The gai'dens and orchards ai'ound this ruined convent are as blooming as
if it were still inhabited. An Arab and his family occupy its chambers, and till the
grounds for the fathers of the neighbouring monastery. Olive-trees, apricot and
apple-trees flourish luxuriantly in this sheltered spot ; and the silence wliich reigns
around, the solit;iry, deserted appearance of the place, seems to invest with a
species of mystery the beauty of its dehcious gardens. The verdure was so bril-
liant when Burckhardt visited it, and the blossoms of the orange-trees sent forth so
fine a perfume, that he was transported, he says, in imagination, fi'om the ban'en
cliffs of the wilderness to the luxurious groves of Antioch.t

The convent of Saint Elias is another deserted edifice of a similar kind. At
certain periods of the year, the monks visit it, and perform some religious ceremo-
nies. It is also the spot at which the pilgrims rest on their way to the summit of
Djebel Mousa; and Burckhardt saw on a large rock in the neighbom'hood, nume-
rous Arabic inscriptions engraved, he supposed, by pious travellers, three or four
hundred years ago. A curious popular tradition is spoken of by this writer as con-
nected with the ruined church on the Mount of Moses. The Arabs, he says, be-
lieve that the tables of the law are buried beneath the pavement of this building;
and they have an especial reverence for the place, because they also believe that
the rains which fall in the peninsula are under the direct control of Moses. But
the monks made use of this notion for their own advantage, and encouraged the
Arabs to entertain the idea that they possess a book, called the Taourat, which was
sent down from heaven to Moses, and upon the opening and shutting of which de-
pends the supply of rain. For a time, the reverence with which the supposed

* I Kings xix. 8. + Travels in Syria and the Holy Land, p. 569.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 221

power of the monks was regarded proved a safeguard to them against the exactions
of the Arabs. When a drought happened, they proceeded in a body to the Djcbel
IVIousa, and prayed for rain. If rain fell, it was attributed to the efficacy of their
intercessions. " But," it is observed, by a natural inference, " the Bedouins con-
cluded that if the monks could bring rain, they had it likewise in their power to
witlihold it ; and hence whenever a dearth happens, they accuse the monks of
malevolence, and often assemble tumultuously in order to compel them to proceed
to the mountain, and pray." Thus, some years since, a violent flood desolated the
country, and destroyed a great many date-trees. This took place soon after the
monks had performed the required senice on the mountain. A Bedouin, who had lost
his camel and sheep in the torrent, suddenly appeared before the gate of the con-
vent, and expressing his rage with many furious gestures, fired his gun at the
building. On being asked why he acted thus, he replied, " You have opened the
book so wide that we are all drowned." He was quieted, it is said, by presents and
kind treatment ; but on leaving the convent he begged the monks to be more care-
ful in fixture how they opened the Taourat.

In the nan'ow, stony valley, which Pococke* says was certainly the Vale of
Eephidim, near the Convent of the Fort}-, lies a huge mass of granite, which has
been regarded, for many hundred years, as a portion of the rock which Moses
struck with his rod. It is described as about twelve feet high, and of irregular
shape, but approaching a cube. Several apertures are seen on its surface, and it
was from these, it is said, the water gushed forth when the rock was struck.
Bm-ckliardt says that most of the fissures in the stone are plainly the work of art ;
but that three or four may be natural, and hence the original idea of attributing to
the whole a miraculous character. As to the present inhabitants of the convent, he
remarks, they must be acquitted of any fi-aud respecting it, for they conscientiously
beheve that it is the very rock from whence the water gushed forth. But in this
part of the peninsula, he adds, the Israelites could not have suffered from thirst.
The upper Sinai is ftdl of wells and springs, the greater part of which are peren-
nial ; and on whichever side the pretended rock of Moses is approached, copious
sources are found within a quarter of an hour of the spot where it hes.f

* Description of thft East, vol. i. p. 143.— But what, says Dr. Robinson, in direct opposition to the
learned old traveller ? " It is hardly necessary to remark, tliat there is not the slightest ground for
assuming any connexion between this narrow valley and Rephidim." So also, in contradiction of
what is stated by Burckbardt, &c., respecting the appearance of the fissures in the stone, Dr. Robinson
says, " The holes did not appear to us to be artificial, as is usually reported, although we examined
them particularly. They belong rather to the nature of the seam : yet it is possible that some of them
may have been enlarged by artificial means. The rock is a siuguhir one; and doubtless was selected
on account of this very singularity as the scene of the miracle."— Biblical Researches, vol. i. p. 166.

t So also Karl von Raumer, " Dieses gebirg Sinai wo die luft kiihl und rein, wo kein boser samnm
weht, quellen reichlich fliesseu." — Der Zug der Israeliten, p. 5.

3 L

222 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

It is not, however, the monks only who believe that the old tradition respecting
this rock is desen-ing of all possible credit. The Bedouins venerate it as much as
the fathers of the convent. They put grass into the fissures, in honour of Moses,
as they put grass upon the tombs of their saints ; grass being to them the most pre-
cious gift of nature, and hence, in their simple notions, the most acceptable offering
to the holy.

But the rock of Moses is not the only wonder of this kind, which the wild glens
and valleys about Sinai present. A little lower down the valley, from the spot
where the rock is seen, a small natmal excavation in the cliff is pointed out as the
seat of Moses. It resembles a chair, and tradition relates that there the patriarch
often rested from his toils, and employed himself in meditation. In all this there is
something which may readily associate itself with the images familiar to minds
affected by long solitude. The observations which Burckhardt makes on this sub-
ject are full of good sense and feeling. He warns the sceptical and haughty tra-
veller against indulging in the liasty ridicule of objects which old habits of thought
have associated with great principles, or great facts. Were the monks, or the poor
Bedouins, rudely forced to abandon then- present train of feeling, without receiving
a higher instruction than they have hitherto enjoyed, they would become atheists.
How melancholy a reflection is suggested by this remark ! Amid the scenes which
history consecrates by her subhmest records, the only alternative for those who
dwell among them is, superstition or atheism. Still, whatever the ignorance or
fanaticism of the monks of Sinai, in respect to things of this kind, they are uni-
formly spoken of by travellers as equally distinguished for their kindness and hos-
pitality, and their faithful performance of the duties of their profession. " Their
manner of living," says Pococke, " is very rigid, and kept more strictly to than in
any other convent. They never eat flesh ; and in Lent, nothing that is the produce
of flesh, as cheese, or the hke ; and they are permitted to eat oil, and shellfish only
on Saturdays, Sundays, and fast days, in Lent ; no Greek being allowed to eat any
other fish during that season. And any one maj' conclude how coarsely they fare,
when I hardly saw any other dishes there than rice Ul-dressed with oil, vinegar and
onions, and sometimes with onions and dried fish ; the same sort of fish dressed in
a soup, dried horse-beans sodden in water, salad, and cheese. They have two
severe fasts, which as many as can observe. They eat nothing from Thinsday
evening to Saturday in the afternoon, on Easter-eve ; and from Sunday evening to
.\sh-Wednesday in the afternoon."

Binrckhardt, a hundred years later, speaks in the same manner of the honest
devotion of the monks to the severest rules of their order. " Their disciphne," he
says, " with regard to food and prayer, is very severe. They are obliged to attend
mass twice in the day, and t\^-ice in the night. The rule is, that they shall taste no
flesh whatever, all the year round; and in then great fast, they not only abstain

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. iOQ

from butter, and every kind of animal food, and fish, but also from oil, and live four
days in the week on bread and boiled vegetables, of which one small dish is all
their dinner."* With regard to their devotional practices, Pococke says, that the
service of the Greek church was performed in the convent of Mount Sinai with
much greater decency than he had ever seen it in any other place, and probably, in
strictest accordance with the ancient rule of the Greek church. Their offices, he
adds, take up great part of their time. In Lent they rise at midnight, and perform
certain devotions ; and the sacrament is celebrated four times a week, from nine to
eleven, when they dine. Even at other seasons, they begin their services before
the dawn of day. Their evening devotions take place at four in the afternoon.
Tliese finished, they sup, and soon after return to rest, t

Tliis simple mode of life, combined with the excellent climate of the mountain, is
highly favourable to the good health and longevity of the monks. Many of them
live to a great age ; but it is not now common for those who enter the convent to
remain there more than four or five years. They are, for the most part, natives
of the Greek islands; and after the period mentioned generally return home, proud,
it is said, of having been sufferers among the Bedouins.

The monks of Sinai form a distinct order; and are properly under the government
of an archbishop, called in Arabic, the Reys. But his residence in the convent
would entitle the Bedouins to certain fees, which they can only demand when he is
present. He, therefore, resides at Cairo, where there is another convent belonging
to the same brotherhood ; and the monastery at Sinai is managed by a prior.

* Travels, p. 549. t Vol. i. p. 152.

FROM SINAI TO SUEZ.

The road by which the traveller leaves the solemn retreats of Sinai and Horeb, on
his way to Egypt, is varied for some distance, by the wild forms of the gigantic rocks,
which rise on either side. However erudite, he in vain endeavours to inteipret the
mysterious inscriptions which appear on the face of some of these rugged cliffs.
They may have been written by the teachers or the chroniclers of a people living
in the remotest generations ; they may speak of the fundamental principles upon
which the whole structure of ancient intelligence was based; or they may have been
engraven on the rock by a succession of solitary Christian travellers, each anxious
to leave some memorial, in signs then familiar to his brethren, of the faith which he
professed, and of the joys or sorrows which he had experienced on his pilgrim-path.

By degrees, the road opens into a broad, sandy valley. Some few spots of ver-
dure relieve the dreary expanse of desert, which seems to enlarge as the traveller
contemplates it, stretching between him and the homes of the peopled world.
He at length reaches the spot rendered interesting by the tradition that it was the
locality of one of the most stirring, but distressing events in the histor)-^ of the wan-
derings of the Israelites. Following the tract as marked by Scripture, Rephidim is
the first grand historical site at which the traveller arrives on his way fi-om Sinai to
Egypt. That Rephidim could not be far from Horeb is stipposed to be proved from
the circumstance, that the rock in Horeb was spoken of as the spot where Moses
might expect to witness a display of the divine power. Massah and Meribah,
Temptation and Strife, were the names which the place received from the evil dis-
positions here evinced by the Israehtes; and from the consequent chastisement,
perhaps, which they suffered in the attack of the Amalekites.*

But however carefully the learned travellers of later times have endeavoured to
trace the remarkable stations on this road, their success must be accounted very
doubtful. Where their language is not rendered obscure by the difficulty of the
subject, their statements are irreconcilably conflicting. It is well, therefore, for
the reader if he can content himself with knowing, that the interchange of mountain
and valley, of rocky labyrinths and sandy plains, still forcibly illustrates the Scrip-
ture narrative, where it speaks of the toils and perils of the wanderers.

* Karl von Raumer, Dor Zug der Israeliten, p. 29

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 225

Even in the midst, however, of the wilderness, and where so much uncertainty
prevails as to many of the most interesting points of inquiry, objects present them-
sehes upon the path of the pilgrim which often awaken trains of thought as in-
structive as they are affecting.

About nine hours' journey from the monastery of Sinai is the valley of Shomar.
Here there is a fine spring, rising in the midst of a romantic httle dingle formed of
date-trees, a fig-tree of gigantic size, and thick grass. On the side of the clifi
which overhangs the spring apjjear the ruins of a convent, the last, it is said, de-
serted by the monks foimerly inhabiting this district. Over Shomai-, the vast
granite mountain, which forms so remarkable a feature of the scenery here, rears its
brow in dazzling brightness above the surrounding rocks. The summit of this
mountain is inaccessible; but at two hundi-ed feet below the highest point, the Gulf
of Suez, and the neighbourhood of Tor, are distinctly visible. About five hours
from the latter place, to the north, is a lofty eminence, called the mountain of the
Bell. The side of this hill, next the sea, consists partly of a mass of very fine sand.
This, at certain seasons, falls with a strange, hollow sound, like the ringing of
mufSed bells ; and it is beUeved, among the Bedouins, that a convent is bmied be-
neath the sand; and that ever and anon its bells thus break the silence of the
wUdemess.

Mount Serbal is a still more important object to the traveller in the peninsula of
Sinai. The ascent is very difhcult, but was accomplished by Burckhai-dt ; who
says that he found the rock so smooth and slijjpery, as well as steep, that, though
barefooted, he was frequently obliged to crawl upon his belly to avoid being preci-
pitated below. One enormous mass of granite forms the summit of the eastern
peak, the smoothness of which, broken only by a few fissures, gives it the appear-
ance of the ice-covered Alps. At a little below the top, the sides of the peak are
formed of immense insulated blocks of granite, twenty or thirty feet long, and
which seem only just suspended, and ready to fall with hideous ruin into the adja-
cent valley. Traces of steps regularly formed are found higher up the mountain ;
and hence there was a time when this wild scene afforded a fa\ourite retreat for
many a devout pilgrim, or perhaps meditative scholar. Every rock almost bears
some inscription, now nearly illegible, but intimating that those who sought this
solitude regarded it, for some reason or the other, as a place consecrated to religion.
Burckhardt* was even induced to believe, from the appearance of the caverns and
inscriptions round about, that Mount Serbal was once the chief place of pil-
grimage in the peninsula.

Wady Feiran is a beautifiJ valley, stretching along fi-om the roots of Mount Ser-
bal. On the sides of the mountains by which it is inclosed, appear the ruins of
some ancient city. No record exists of this place. The numerous tombs in the

* Travels, p. 609.

3 11

•226 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

neighbourhood have long been tenantless ; and though traces may be discovered of
an aqueduct, and of towers, and extensive edifices, nothing is known of how the city
rose or how it fell.* The valley of Feiran is said to be the finest in the whole
country,t and exhibits a series of rich plantations, extending near four miles.
Among the date-trees, which here grow luxuriantly, are the rude huts of the Tebna
Arabs, skilled as gardeners. During the date-harvest, which lasts for some weeks,
tlie owners of the soil come and erect huts of palm-branches in the ^■alley, and
make their sojourn a season of great festivity. Wady Feiran is a continuation of
a similar valley, called Wady Sheikh. LabordeJ describes a pass in this valley as
characterized by the wildest grandeiu:. The cliffs, as they become lower, open
into a wider space, and a primitive granite mountain is then seen, which offers no
passage to the traveller but by a little opening between two perpendicular walls of
vast height. At a sharp turning in the defile, where the deep shadows of the
mountain are unbroken, and the voice of the traveller, and the crj' of the camel
come back in strange, mysterious echos, the eye of the Arab rests with reverential
awe upon an isolated rock, which is said by some to have formed the resting-place
of Moses, while feeding the flocks of Jethro ; and by others to have been that of Ma-
homet, while still only a camel-driver. Here, it is said, he was wont to sit and
meditate, and put into language the earliest of those visions which were to produce
such tremendous consequences among the people of the East.

The Wady Mokatteb has been celebrated among travellers, from very early
times, for its numerous inscriptions, and other remains of antiquity. Niebuhr was
especially instmcted by the king of Denmark to examine this spot : and he accord-
ingly made it a particular object in his journey between Suez and Sinai to discover
its locahty, and the nature of the inscriptions. But having called to his aid three
of the sheikhs, most familiar with the country, he found, to his smprise, that not one
of them spoke of Wady Mokatteb as meriting the fame which it had obtained
among European scholars. In this, the Ai-abs appear to have been sincere. The
inscriptions upon the rocks in the valley of :Mokatteb seem to be comparatively of
modern date ; and ^vould probably, if interpreted, afford no information of any
gi-eat interest. Yieldbg, however, to Niebuhr's determination to visit the place,
one of the sheikhs agreed to take him thither.§ The journey was accordingly com-
menced, but instead of conducting him to Wady Mokatteb, the Arab took him to
another district, named Sarbout-el-Cadem. Hence the discovery was made to Eu-
ropean travellers of a locality infinitely more interesting than that after which
Niebuhr was searching; and the remains about which, if their character were really
understood, might throw important light on some passages of early history.

■* Feiran itself was anciently a bishop's see.— Burckliardt, p. Ci;.

t Niebuhr, Keisebeschreibung, b. 1. p. 240. :J E.xplication des Planches, p. 44.

§ Reisebescbreibung, b. i. p. 222.

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 227

Niebuhr's own account of this spot is slight and imperfect. But he led the way
for others. Sir F. Henniker* visited Sarbout-el-Cadem, in 1822, and describes
the scene as resembling a churchyard. t A small temple, with several monumental
tablets, and a variety of upright stones, all more or less covered with hieroglyphics,
prove, beyond doubt, that the place was one of ancient sepulture. The most in-
teresting description both of the monuments, and of the surrounding scenerj', is
that given by Laborde. Having passed along a difficult moimtain pathway, he
reached a spot from which he could see the tombs, ' rising as so many phantoms
from the midst of the sombre and wild aridity of the desert.' Their antiquity, he
considered, must be very great. They extend over a space of about seventy-five
paces in length, and thirty-five in breadth. The stones, of which there are about four-
teen, are, for the most part, lying amidst heaps of dust, the remains of other monuments.
Besides the "temple, and other objects already mentioned, there are the fi'agments
of some Egyptian statues, traces of sepulchral chambers, and square capitals,
ornamented on each side by the head of Isis, so graceful in its expression, and with
its characteristic elongated eyes, and oxen-eai's.J

Many suggestions have been adduced to account for the existence of these monu-
ments in the midst of the wilderness. Laborde supposes that large mining opera-
tions may have been carried on here, in very remote ages, and that the tombs now
seen were those of the rich jDossessors of the soil. A more elevating notion is, that
here, in the times of Egyptian gi'andeur, was some well-known sanctuary ; and that
Moses himself may have referred to this locality, when he desired permission for
his people to go three days' journey into the wilderness. §

How gladly might we hnger in thought amid the scenes, where Israel gathered
their abundant supply of food from heaven ; or by those ancient wells, and living
waters, which still remind the jjilgiim, with such peculiar force, of the divine provi-
dence and goodness ! But we must hasten on. Ehm with its Tamarisk bushes ;
the well Howara, the supposed Marah of Scripture ; and the springs of Moses,
have all a charm for the mind, which knows the value of even a name which can
aid it in connecting the past with the present.

As the traveller approaches Bir Suez, a well in the desert surmounted by a sort ot
little castle, the view of the Red Sea gives rise to a new cun-ent of thought. On
the right appears the fortress of Attaka; and before him a town the aspect of which
is as sad as that of the wilderness.

Suez is supposed to occupy the site of an ancient and celebrated city, and thus
to have been known by the names of Arsince, Cleopatris, Clysmar, and Kolzum, as

* Notes during a Visit to Egypt, p. 245.

t So also, Neibuhr, wfio speaks of it as, " einen prachtigen Egyptischen todtenacker, p. 235.

t Explication des Planches, p. 43.

§ The idea was suggested to Dr. Robinson, by Lord Prudhoe.— Researches, vol. i. p. I IC

228 THE CHRISTIAN IX PALESTINE.

well as by its present appellation. Occupying a small promontory at the north end
of the Red Sea, it was formerly distinguished as a port, and might still be so, were
it not for the rapid increase of sand in its now almost ruined harbour. The present
town consists of two squares and two streets, one of which runs parallel to the quay
from east to west, while the other is formed of an iiTegular line of bazaars. For the
most part the houses are of the most wretched description. The principal buildings
are the palace of the governor, four mosques, and a mansion belonging to a rich
Arabian merchant. To these may be added the two klians, which are rendered
important by the continual influx of strangers, either proceeding to, or coming from,
various parts of the East. No appearance of gardens or fields exists near this me-
lancholy httle town. Not a patch of verdure is anywhere to be seen. The desert
comes up to the very walls, and even penetrates into the town itself, the broad
open spaces between the houses presenting the same aspect as the sandy, death-
like wastes of the sun-ounding neighbourhood. The great carrion-vulture, and the
wild dog of the desert, are the only living creatures seen about the place. But
gloomy as is the general aspect of Suez, it fi-equently exhibits a scene of bustle and
excitement which has led some travellers to compare it to those Italian cities which
are most frequented by strangers. t Thus, the Mograbin of Fez, the Syrian, the
native of Djidda, Cosseir, and Souakem, are here to be seen together, presenting
the most singular varieties of physiognomy and costume. The whole population,
it is said, seems to be composed of guides, or ciceroni, and the town has the appear-
ance of a camp, during the preparation for a march. It is interesting, however, to
find that, amid all this stir, the influence of an Eastern clime, the neighbouring
desert, and the sense of danger to be encountered by the strangers in their several
routes, throw an air of gravity and seriousness over the scene, not to be foimd in
the corresponding movements of a European town.

A good illustration is given of the manner in which the Arab guides treat with
those who require their services. A Turk with his two wives and three servants is
setting out for Gaza, but is determined not to give more than five piastres for each
camel. Hassan had agreed to conduct him ; but he now says that he is afi'aid of
meeting a certain Thyat, who had a quaiTel with his father sixteen years ago, and
who is now said to be on the road to Kerak. Shahoun had seen him traveUing to-
wards Nackel. Ah, just come fiom Sinai, states that he met Mousa, on his way
from Hebron, and that he had told him something about a certain Alouin. By this
means, the unfortunate traveller is kept in a state of perpetual agitation lest, at the
very moment of departure, he should be left without a guide, or be obhged to pay
an extravagant sum as an equivalent for the danger to which Hassan pretends he is
about to expose himself on his aceount.t

* Niebuhr remarks, tliat tlie town was very lively in his time, 1762, when the ships from Dsjidda
came into the port, or were preparing to set ■sail. — Beisebeschreibung, b. i. p. 230.
t Laborde Eng., pp. C7 — C9.

THK CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 229

The only good water with which the town is supplied is brought from the well of
Naba, six miles distant from Suez, among the hills on the Eastern side of the Gulf.
It is from this point that the mountain ridge, Er-Rahah, becomes conspicuous to
the U-aveller journeying towards !Sinai, one of the most romantic recesses about
wliich, is known as the Wady Er-llahali. At one time the Bedouins possessed
such power in the district, that whenever a dispute took place between them and the
governors of Cairo, they would place a guard over the well, and prevent the inha-
bitants from drawing their usual supply of water. It is said to have not imfre-
quently happened, even in time of peace, that a Bedouin girl would be found
in the morning sitting by the side of the well, and refusing to allow the water-
carriers to draw any water, unless they presented her with a new garment. They
dare not refuse her demand. If they had struck her, or attempted to remove
her by force, a war with her tribe would have been the consequence.* The
tyranny of the Bedouins has often been exceeded by the governors of the place.
In Pococke's time,t the chief authority was in the hands of a sheik. If he suf-
fered the least oflence, he prohibited water to be brought from the well of Naba,
and the people were obliged to diink the brackish water of the Beer-el-Suez, a well
lying about a league distant, to the north of the town. Hence the vast advantage
which the place would derive from a canal like that of Trajan, connecting it with
the Nile ; and the new prosperity which it might look for through the revival of
commerce, were the splendid conception of the ancient Sesostris accomplished, and
the two seas united.

* Burokhardt's Travels, p. 4GG. f Observations on Palestine, vol. i .p. 133.

3 N

CESAR^A-RHODES-ATHENS-KOME.

We may suppose the traveller in the Holy Land, as either ending, or beginning
his pilgrimage, when he anives at Suez. Of the pious and eloquent wiiters, whose
labours have furnished us with so much information, some commenced, and some
terminated their most interesting inquiries at this point. Instead then of pursuing
our course through Egypt, a country which is only second in interest to Palestine
itself, and which it would require as much space as we have already employed to
describe, we wiU suppose the pilgrim to retrace his steps to Jerusalem. From
thence, he may visit some of those spots not already named. As Emmaus ; still
sought by many a pious traveller, though tradition ventures not to speak of it with
its customary confidence; and the Klian-et-Tujjar, the Khan of the Merchants, a
place now in ruins, but situated in the romantic valley, between Mount Tabor and
Tiberias, and once the most frequented rendezvous of the wealthy of the land. And
Sanur, on its bleak, solitary hill in Samaria. This mountain fortress, though un-
mentioned in any of the earlier chronicles of the countiy, has a present interest,
from the miUtary importance attached to it in modern times. It was besieged for
two months, by the famous Jezzar, at the head of five thousand men, and remained
untaken. But, in 1830, Abdallah Pasha of 'Akka, to chastise its rebel chief, as-
sailed it with an Egyptian army, and left it a mass of ruins. How many a scene
might still persuade the traveller to linger on his way ! how frequently would he
pause, had he the liberty, as well as the feelings, which led the Pilgrims of former
ages to pursue their solitary path, regardless of aught but the solemnity of the
scene, and the thoughts of their own prayerful hearts ! There is one spot, however,
on the sea-shore, which will tend to leave impressed upon his mind whatever senti-
ment of sadness he may have experienced in the view of places once famous, but
now prostrate with the soil on which they stood. The name of Cesarsea, and this is
almost all which remains of it, except the scene which it once animated, immediately
recalls to mind the great events in the early progress of the gospel. Here it was
that the first Gentile convert* abode; that Philip the Evangelistf dwelt; that St.
Paul displayed the power of divine trath against the subtlest of uninspired orators,J
and that the wretched Herod Antipas,§ worshipped as a god, perished by the
most miserable of deaths.

Cesara^a was formerly known as Tunis Stratonis. Herod the Great saw how im-
portant it would be for the navigation of this part of the Mediterranean to form a
port here. He accomphshed his design with vast skill and magnificence ; and
named the new city after his imperial patron. It enjoyed, for a long time, both thf
* Acts X. t Acts nxi. a X Acts xxiv. § Acts xii. 19, 20.

-V

C\,

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 231

usual share of prosperity belonging to a city favourably situated for mercantile
purposes, and the further advantages derived from its being the resort of the richest
and most powerful men of the state. The revolution of ages has pressed heavily
upon Cesarsa, and it now exhibits httle more than a mass of ruins. " Perhaps,"
says Dr. Clarke,* " there has not been in the history of the world, an example of
any city that in so short a space of time rose to such an extraordinary height of
splendour as Cesarsea, or that exhibits a more awful contrast to its former magnifi-
cence. Not a single inhabitant remains. Its theatres, once resounding with the
shouts of multitudes, now only echo to the nightly cries of wild animals, roaming
after their prey. Of its gorgeous palaces and temples, enriched with the choicest
works of art, and decorated with the most precious marbles, scaix-cly a trace can be
discovered." Thus, as in so many other instances, Cesarsea, with all its pomp and
glory, would now want a place even in the common catalogue of cities, but for the
simple fact, that here a Roman soldier was taught the gospel, and tliat an apostle
of Christ bore witness to the divinity of his faith.

But when, at length, he takes leave of this land of sacred mystery and old re-
nown, the traveller wiU notice with far more than ordinary feelings, the scenes
which have derived a consecration from the presence of those who taught in the
name of the God and the Saviour, whose Spirit alone it was which gave holi-
ness and glory to Palestine. Thus meeting, here and there, with the foot-
steps of the first missionaries of the gospel, he will regard the harbour of
Rhodes t with a pecuhar interest, because within that port St. Paul rested in his
memorable voyage to Italy. The famous colossal statue, which was seventy cubits
high, and fifty fathoms wide, was thrown down centuries ago by a tenible earthquake.
A Jew of Alexandria purchased the brass, and loaded nine hundred camels with the
metal. Rhodes has since been distinguished as belonging to the Knights of St. John.
The remains of their fine old fortress correspond well with the chivalrous history of
the order ; and the Church of St. John, though now converted into a mosque, still ex-
hibits traces of the sumptuous character of the ancient edifice. Relics of the middle
ages ai-e to be found in every part of the city; but in its general appearance it retains
none of its classical splendour, and but little of the picturesque beauty of its medi-
aeval period. The palace of the gi-and master is a mere ruin, and the hospital has long
been coriverte d into pubhc granaries. This desecration of a building with which so
many recollections of early Christian benevolence are associated, is one of the most
melancholy consequences of the revolutions to which the city has been exposed.

The island of Rhodes is celebrated for the salubrity of its climate, and the fer-
tility of the soil. Its fine timber has rendered it, from the time of the Romans, a
place of great value to the maritime powers, into whose hands it has fallen. Oi its
gardens and orchards travellers still speak with poetical rapture. The air is laden
with perfumes ; and the most luxuriant tracts of Eastern lands are not more odo-
* Travels, vol. vi. p. 440. + Acts xxi. 1.

23*2 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

rous than the slopes of the hills in this beautiful island. Mount Artemira, which
rises from the centre of its fertile plains, eoiuniands a view of the Archipelago ; of the
shores of Africa; of the bold coast of Caramauia, and the romantic summit of Ida.

There ai-e two other places to be noticed for the reason already suggested.
Greece, in the time of the apostles, was the connecting link between the East and
West; between oriental mysticism and European philosophy. Anxiously, there-
fore, will the pilgrim on his way from Palestine, bend his gaze upon the shores of
that land where divine truth found its surest resting-place, before, in its onward
llight, it reached the nations and provinces which it was soon to bless and Olumi-
nate with its presence.

Athens, when visited by St. Paul,* had little of the character which it possessed
in earlier times. It was no longer the favoiured seat of freedom ; and the vain rheto-
rician had taken the place of those who, even when involved in error, panted after,
aud strove for, truth. But Athens was still great and beautiful. The memory of
her glory had not yet so passed away as to leave her hUls or her temples without
some gleam of splendour. Here and there too might be found among her people
men of eai'nest thought ; and it was for these that the apostle made his sublime ap-
peal to universal reason, and to primitive truth, when he preached on Mars' HiU,
and convinced Diouysius, the Areopagite. The eminence on which the memorable
occurrence here refen'ed to took place, rises at a little distance from the Acropolis,
the ancient citadel of Athens. It is a limestone rock, covered with scant verdure,
and formerly surmounted by rows of stone seats for the members of the court to
which it gave a name. Ages have passed away since any trace could be discovered
of the manner in which the tribunal was ananged ; but the abrupt and lonely hill,
and the stern aspect of the immediate localitj', correspond to all our traditionary
notions of the Ai'eopagus. The judges of this court were the most venerable men
in Greece ; no orator was allowed to disturb the unimpassioned course of their deli-
berations ; nor was it till the silence and darkness of night prevailed that they com-
menced their solemn labours. Crimes of the deepest dye were subjected to their
inquiry ; and the home of the Eumenides, the spirits charged with the infliction of
divine vengeance, was supposed to be in the midst of a solitary grove near where
the judges met.

It is matter of doubt, whether Saint Paul was called before the Areopagites to
give an accoimt of his jiroceedings ; or whether he chose the scene on which their
assemblies conferred so solemn a character, as the best suited for his own intended
discourse. From the spot on which he stood, the noblest memorials of Athenian
greatness were visible, while the hill itself, according to ancient authority, presented
many a symbol of the primitive genius of the nation. " Here," says Pausanias, " is
the altar of Minerva Areia, dedicated by Orestes, on escaping punishment for the
murder of his mother. Here, also, are two rude stones, upon one of which the

• Acts xvii. 16—22,

N
-^

. ^j..S^.ML-

THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE. 233

accuser stands, and upon the other the defendant. Near this place is a sanctuary
of the goddesses called Seranae, but whom Hesiod in the Theogonia names
Erinnyes. ^Eschylus represented them with snakes in theii- hair ; but here their
statues have nothing ferocious in their aspect ; nor have those of the other subter-
ranean deities here represented, namely, Pluto, Hermes, and the Earth. Here
persons acquitted in the court of Areopagus sacrifice ; and also others, both
strangers and citizens of Athens."*

There is another object in Athens, which may be properly alluded to in this
place, because its beauty and magnificence not only characterized, but probably
influenced, the mental state of the people whom the apostle visited. This is the
Parthenon, or temple of Minerva, the noblest edifice, perhaps, which art, in its sub-
limest mood, ever erected. It was constructed entirely of Pentelic marble, and
measured on the upper step of the stylobate, rather more than 227 feet in length, and
101 in breadth. Forty-six Doric columns ornamented its fronts and sides ; and at
either end was another interior range of six columns. The Parthenon, or the divi-
sion of the Cella properly so called, was 100 feet in length, and was hence denomi-
nated, the Temple of a huncbed feet, or Heccatompedum. Of the entire building,
Colonel Leate observes,t that its dimensions of 228 feet by 102, with a height of
66 feet to the top of the pediment, were sufficiently great to give an impression of
grandeur and sublimity, while this impression was left undisturbed by any obtrusive
subdivision of parts. There was nothing in the Parthenon to di\ert the spectator's
contemplation from the simplicity and majesty of mass and outline, which form the
most admirable characteristics of a Greek temple. In the hands of Phidias, and his
colleagues, the gravity of the Doric order was no obstacle to the decoration of the
ujjper parts of the edifice. Hence the statues and reliefs, as well as the archi-
tectural members, were enriched with various colours, giving them the effect of
pictures, as well as of groups of statuaiy, and affording the spectator a fresh source
of dehght. Thus the adornment of the building was continued to the roof. New
enrichments might be added; and hence, long after the edifice had been com-
pleted, rows of gilded shields were placed upon the architraves of the two fi-onts.
No Greek temple appears to have been ever so richly adorned with sculpture as the
Parthenon. In the midst of the temple rose the colossal statue of MineiTa. The
a;ti, or pedimeuts, were decorated with two compositions near eighty feet in length,
each consisting of about twenty-four statues of supernatural dimensions. Under
the exterior cornice were ninety-two groups, raised in high-relief, from the tablets,
four feet three inches square; and along the outside of the cella and vestibules
ran the beautifid frieze, 520 feet in length, representing the festival of the Pana-
thensea. Thus, viewing it in the whole, this wonderful structure seems to be

* Leake's Topography of Athens, vol. i. p. ICO. Clarke's Travels, vol. vi. pp. 2G2-298.
t Topography of Athens, vol. i. p. 333—337

•234 THE CHRISTIAN IN PALESTINE.

rightly described, as not merely the best school of architecture in the world, but as
"the noblest museum of sculpture, and the lichest gallery of painting."*

Great must have been the contrast between Athens, with its sumptuous heathen
temples, and Jerusalem, raising only its one altar of sacrifice to the one true God.
But still greater must have been the contrast between every scene familiar to the
native of Palestine, or dear to those who sought its shores, obedient to a holy faith,
and the city of the seven hills, the capital of the Gentile world, the first and the
greatest of cities, because the seat of all those varied powers which give to human
ambition its surest means of triumph. To the Christian who has tarried, even in
thought, amid the sacred memorials of a chosen people, in a promised land, Rome
must ever be interesting in this its ancient and historical contrast to Jerusalem.
While he surveys from the Capitol the site of the ancient Forum, now so desolate,
yet marked with unfading features of traditionary glory, he will feel that here was a
fitting scene for the most energetic of Christ's apostles to proclaim their mission.
Before them was the spot where the noblest of orators and the fiercest of dema-
gogues by turns enchanted and bewildered the multitude. On one side rose the
beautifiil temple of Concord ; on another, that of Jupiter Tonans. Close at hand
was the triumphal arch of Severus. A little beyond, appeared the Via Sacra, a
road consecrated to peace and sacred festivity; and, at the end of this, the vast
outline of the Coliseum, where the sanguinary shows of gladiators and wild beasts,
were soon to derive a deeper horror firom the sufierings of Christian martyrs.

On the side of the Capitol, whence this scene might be contemplated, was the
Mamertine prison. Within its gloomy walls, so it has been believed, both Saint
Peter and Saint Paul were for some time immui-ed. But how vain were the teiTors
of the persecutor when employed against men who had only left Jerusalem for
Rome, to subject the spirit of Rome itself to the power which animated their souls!
The Christian in Palestine will often dwell with devout wonder on the history of
that faith, which dawning in Nazareth and Capernaum, was so soon to diffuse its
refulgent hght over Athens and Rome ; and show, with its pure beams, the
darkness of their boasted splendour. And when, filled with solemn emotion, he
traverses the ancient ways, where the very sound of his footstep seems ready to
awaken some spirit of the past, how gladly will he resign himself to the power of
that benignant truth which is destined, in the revolution of ages, to give to what-
ever was glorioiis in Rome, Athens, or Jerusalem, a renewed and nobler existence !

* Wordsworth's Greece, p. 141.

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Complete in three useful volumes, royal quarto, cloth, filt, £4 4s.

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Marginal References. A New Edition, with an Introductory Essay, and numerous additional Notes, Critical, Practical, and Explanatory, by the
Kev. William Symington, D.D., Glasgow.

•«• The cheapest unabridged Edition of Scott published.

~TT.i-.T -^ „ ~-,» 'n roval ICmo., morocco, price 10s. 6d.,

NEW POCKET BIBLE, WITH SCOTT'S ABBIDGEI) COMMENTARY,

And Copious Marginal Headings, Ueferences. &c. Willi 28 illustrative Plates by artists of the highest celebrity.

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made on the Spot bv Mr. Bartlett, in I'iiO.

Containing the Old and New Testaments according to the Authorized Version, Illustrated by Original Views of the Scenery and Remarkable
Places in and around Jerusalem and the Holy Land, including accurate representations of the Scenes of the most important Events in Sacred
History, the Life and Labours of the Saviour, and the Journeys of his Apostles. With an Introductory Essay, and numerous Practical,
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PrcTORi\L Illustrations of the Sacred Volume have been long and deservedly
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appeared on this subject. The Publisher of the Illustrated Edition of the Rev.
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1 1 embraces a Collection of beautifully executed Views of all those spots made remark-
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every part of the City of Jerusalem, rendered sacred as the locality of the life and

miracles of the SaWour, as well as all those places afterwards visited by St. Paul and
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Now Publishing, in Parts at One Shilling. (Each Part containing Four highly-finished Engravings on Steel.)

In a Series of about One Hundred and Fifty Splendid Engravings, from Drawings made expressly for the "Work, by "W". H. Bartlett and
T. Allom, ^c. The Literary Portion eoiuprisos a Hi.-^torical and Descriptive Picture of Scotland, by William Beattie, M.D. Graduate of the
Univ. of Edinburgh; llember of the Hist. Institute of France ; Author of '* Switzerland," " The Danube," &c.

This Work contains upwards of One Hundred and Fifty Engravings, executed on
steel by the first enj^-ravers of the day, and, in every instance, after l)rawings made
upon tlie spot, and expressly for the Work. Neither pains nor expense have been
spared to render the series worthy of the extended pntronage which the Publishers
confidently hope to oliti-in. and which can alone repay their outlay in this nia,'nificent
undertaking The accuracy of detail, delicacy of finish, and fidelty to Nature of
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gil"ied pens of Scott and Burns, have not been negle<ted; the most picturesque
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The literary portion of this work will consist of Historical and Topographical
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Zi)t eftrii^tiait in ^alt^tint;

OR, SCENES OF SACRED HISTORY.

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" Whatever interest may be excited by the historj'or description of other countries,
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'■ 'The Christian in Palestine,' and 'Royal Gems from the Galleries of Europe.'
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" This book, in its own department, which we need not say is a deep y interesting
one, merits similar praise with the wrk which we have just noticed f H oyal Gems.']
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Dedicated to H.R.H. Albert Edward, Priiice of Wales.

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•»• The prest-nt is the ouly compk-fe and authentic edition of the ^Vorks of the
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things in God, with remarks upon some of Mr. Norris's Books — Ele-
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