In the Holy Land 9781463207915

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C 11 l - H C H

OK

Till'.

II O l . Y

SKl'l'

I.CIIKIS—INTKRIOK. r a ¿ t »8.

IN THE HOLY LAND.

By the

REV. ANDREW Minister

THOMSON, D.D.,

of Broughton

Place Church,

Edinburgh.

jVlTH jSlGHTEEN pNGRAVINGS.

GORGIAS PRESS 2002

F.R.S.E.,

First Gorgias Press Edition, 2002. The special contents of this edition are copyright 2002 by Gorgias Press LLC. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States of America by Gorgias Press LLC, New Jersey. This edition is a facsimile reprint of the original edition published by T. Nelson and Sons, Edinburgh and New York, 1882.

ISBN 1-931956-70-7

GORGIAS PRESS

46 Orris Ave., Piscataway, NJ 08854 USA www.gorgiaspress.com

Printed and bound in the United States of America.

P R E F A C E.

W O centuries ago, when the witty Fuller imagined himself to be challenged for writing his " Pisgah-sight of Palestine," he anticipated objectors by remarking in his Introduction that " it never disheartened St. L u k e to write his Gospel, forasmuch as many had taken in hand to set it forth before."

W e fear that such an answer would scarcely be held

sufficient in these days, when books upon the H o l y L a n d are so very abundant, and when not a few of them are so very excellent j more especially as we m a k e no pretensions to have been a scientific explorer, but were merely out on a short clerical furlough after a long and laborious pastorate, and could do little more than skim the surface of the land as the summer swallows do the bosom of the lake.

Still even this class of travellers, if

they only look around them, have their uses.

T h e r e are tens

of thousands in every Christian country to whom Palestine is a field of sacred and inexhaustible interest, because it was the theatre of those events which form the foundation of

their

highest hopes, and of those lessons which feed and purify their inward life.

T h e s e welcome faithful descriptions of such scenes

and objects, and have ready echoes in their hearts for the enthusiasm of the narrator if it has only the ring of truth about it. A n d it seems next to impossible for any one who knows something of the Bible, and who has a fair measure of the power of

IV

PREFACE.

observation, to spend even a week in Palestine without being able to record some custom a m o n g the people, or to observe s o m e feature in the scenery, that shall b e f o u n d to shed new or increased light u p o n some s e n t e n c e of the W o r d of God.

To

h a v e d o n e some little service in these ways, is a b o u t the measure of our claims to attention. T o what an e x t e n t Palestine has, a l m o s t up to the p r e s e n t day, c o n t i n u e d to b e a comparatively u n e x p l o r e d country, is proved by the fact that t h e most westerly b r a n c h of the J o r d a n was only discovered within t h e p r e s e n t c e n t u r y ; a n d that only two m e n — L i e u t e n a n t M o l y n e u x of t h e British N a v y Board, a n d L i e u t e n a n t L y n c h of the A m e r i c a n N a v y — h a v e scientifically surveyed the river from the L a k e of Galilee to t h e D e a d Sea, a n d m a d e the world

for t h e

first time aware of its

unique

geographical features, especially in its tortuous windings, the n u m b e r of its r a p i d s and cascades, the d e e p depression of its c h a n n e l , and the singular impetuosity of its course.

A n d how

m u c h that is u n k n o w n c o n t i n u e s to invite the p a t i e n t explorer, a n d promises to reward him with a rich harvest, may be gathered from the long list of Scripture places given by Professor Porter of Belfast, that h a v e n o t yet b e e n identified. P r o b a b l y , however, we should never have written a p a g e of this volume, had not such m e n as the late Dr. K e i t h J o h n s t o n , o n e of the greatest o r n a m e n t s of geographical science, as h e was o n e of the humblest of Christians, b o t h pressed u p o n us the duty of e x p a n d i n g the s u b s t a n c e of our j o u r n a l into a b o o k , a n d kindly offered to revise our c h a p t e r s as they were written. T h e friendly urgency of the late Sir J a m e s Simpson also helped us to decision.

The

contents

of the v o l u m e h a v e

a p p e a r e d in a serial f o r m , — t h e greater part in the

already "Family

T r e a s u r y , " s o m e c h a p t e r s in the " S u n d a y M a g a z i n e , " a n d a few p a r a g r a p h s in the " D a y of R e s t . " I n our notices of the E x p l o r a t i o n s in J e r u s a l e m , and of the ruins of the d o o m e d cities on the n o r t h of t h e Galilean lake, of

v

rn F. FA CE.

which Tell H u m is in every respect the centre, we have mingled with the results of our own observation many of the facts supplied by the Palestine Exploration Fund

in its " Quarterly

Paper," and especially in that exceedingly valuable collection of papers contained in " J e r u s a l e m Restored." Our enjoyment in our joumeyings was much enhanced by our having as our fellow-traveller, Professor Milligan of Aberdeen. We cannot withhold ourselves from recording that it was one of our highest privileges, also, to have as our companion and friend during the whole of our travels, the late Dr. Deutsch of the British Museum,—a prince among Semitic scholars, a man of fine genius, of noble enthusiasm of research, of exalted aims, and most generous heart.

It is impossible not to mourn that a

scholar of such rare gifts and extraordinary attainments did not live long enough to fulfil the great promise of his early manhood. It is probable that in the midst of so many points of detail there may be found some mistakes, but once more we hold over our head the shield of our old historian : " For the manifold faults herein I doubt not but the ingenious reader (finding in Palestine six cities of refuge by God's own appointment, for the safeguard of such as slew one unawares without malice prepense), will of his own bounty build a seventh in his own bosom for my protection takes !"

when guilty of

involuntary

mis-

C O N T E N T S.

I.—ars Camp—Alexandria past and present— French influence—Mixed population—The running courier [i Kings xviii. 46;— Polygamy and morality—Journey to Cairo—Mud-villages [Ezck. viii. 8 ; Matt, vi. 19]—Pigeon-houses [Isa. lx. S]—Onion-fields [Num. xi. 5]—Ill-assorted animals at the plough [2 Cor. vi. 1 4 ] — E n t r a n c e into Cairo 13

II.—cfront ihc iJjjnuniits to ¿iopp.t. First impressions of Cairo—The bazaars [ J e r . xxxvii. 21] — The donkey-boy — Curious police regulations—View from the Citadel—Mosque of Mohammed Alt'—Popular superstition—.Mosque of Sultan Hassan—Croups at the fountains—Way to the Pyramids—Prince of Wales—Egyptian task-masters [ E x . iii. 7 ; — T h e Pyramid of Cheops—The Sphinx—Speculations—V ie-v from the Pyramids— Unique position of Egypt in prophecy and history—The Nile—Egypt of the future [Isa. xix. 22)— Kaihvay to Suez—Despotism—Appearance of Suez—Crossing an arm of the Red Sea—Ride into the desert—The mirage—Oasis—"Fountains of the desert " (Ex. xv. 23]—M. de Lesseps—A family picture—Emblem of the gospel—Miraculous passage imagined—Grand Suez Canal—A sand-storm—Port Said—Illness—The Russian steamer—Scene on deck—Lying off foppa 25

III.—(Dur ¿Ucent to J e r u s a l e m . View of Joppa from the sea—Mischievous loatwn—Biblical associations [2 Chron. ii. 1 6 ; Jonah i. 3 ; Acts ix. 36)—Historical associations—Sources of modern prosperity— Elders sitting in the gate (Ruth iv.]—House of Simon the tanner—The outlook towards the sea [Acts x.]—Correlation between the events of Scripture and the scenery of Palestine—Ritter—The foppa gardens—The reckless rider—The Pasha's road — The Sharon valley—The soil and the scenery (Dent. xi. 1 0 - 1 2 ] — T h e riderless horse—A difficult)—'The land of the Philistines [Zcch. ix. ^\—I.ydda—Eneas and Dorcas—Fuller and Faber—The convent of Ramleh—Scene in the courtyardMonkish cookery and lenten fare—a Scottish nobleman doing penance—The midnight sky of Palestine [Gen. xv. 5] 45

co.vvvì.vrs.

Vili

I V . — " SLUthin I h g ©¡tics, (D J e r u s a l e m . " RamUk in the morning light—Is it thArimathea of Joseph ?— The start for Jerusalem —Scepticism and half kno7vledge—A Scripture difficulty solved [Luke ii. 43-45]— Irrepressible fertility—Testimony of old travellers—Entrance on mountain scenery —I.adron—Amwas—Rash inductions—Ajalon—Gibeon—Upper and iVether Bethhoron—The scenery and the inspired narrative fJoshua x . J — M i d - d a y repast—Our one-eyed dragoman—" Excelsior"—Ancient fertility of the land—Voltaire and Bayle—Coming fertility, how and whenf (Isa. xxxii. 13]— The Waldenses—Peculiar shape of the mountains—A bit Gosh—Kirjath-jearim—The true Emtnaus— Alpine experiences—Scenes clustering with histories—A ludicrous adventure— —Absorbing expectation—First look of Jerusalem—Visions of the past—Tarrying at the J a f f a Gate—" Within thy gates, O Jerusalem." 60

V.—¿ttoiicvn J e r u s a l e m . Mount Olivet by moonlight—The wall of Jerusalem—Its principal gates—The Dunt;gate—[2 Cliron. xxix. i6J— The Golden-gate—Valleys of Jehoshaphat, lIinuom,anu Gihon—Natural strength of the ancient city—Circle of mountains, inner and outer IPs. exxv. 2 ) — P r i n c i p a l quarters—Rigid distinctions—Probable number of inhabitants— The Je-us in Jerusalem [Ps. cii. 1 4 ] — J n v i s h synagogues [Ps. cxxxvii.J— Order of worship [Luke iv. 16-20\—Nationalities [Acts vi. 9I—The sparrow and the swallow [Ps. lxxxiv. 3]—Ilishop Gobat—A Sabbath on Mount Zion—An evening in the bishop's house [Ps. Ixxii. 16J—The Prussian deaconesses—Estimate of Bishop Gobat's labours—Evangelical agencies for Palestine—Activity of the Jesuits— Challenge by Dr. Barclay to Monsignor Capel—Tables d'h'tte—Scenes of proselytism —How the inhabitants are supported—I mpoverished look of the city—'The glory departed [}cr. xxvi. 1 8 ; Micali iii. 12)—Strange police regulation: Lanterns by night —.NVtt'j of robbery outside the walls—Miserable look of the encampment and of t/u victims—The Jews' Waiting-place [I,ukc xiii. 35J—Scene on the Passover week [Lam. ii. 1 ; iv. 1]—Rabbi Akiba—I.ight from the bosom of darkness [Isa. xxxvii. 3 1 ; R o m . xi. 1 5 , 2 3 ]

77

VI.—¿Here about (Jerusalem. Incredible traditions—The Empress Helena and the Church of the Holy Sepulchre— The Latin Easter—Visit to the church—Scenes at the entrance—Passing the Turkish guards—The stone of unction—Different portions of the structure—young priests as guides—Piling up of wonders—Traditional Calvary—The rent rock— Description of the empty sepulchre—One of the worshippers—Sentiment and superstition—The various scenes of the passion enacted—Turkish soldiers keeping orderPlaintive music—Procession—Life-like image of Christ crucified—Dramatic sermon — The taking down from the cross—Monsignor Capel exhorting Protestant heretics—Procession from Calvary to the sepulchre—Influence of the spectacle—Greek Easter as described by others—Docs this church contain the real scenes of the crucifixion and the resurrection ?—Reasons for doubting, topographical and historical — Wisdom of Providence in this uncertainty—Visit to the lepers' tents—Hours in Gethsemane. .nj

VII.—jiiounti about J e r u s a l e m . The brook Kidror:—Happy scenes when it begins to flow—'The four monuments—Their probable age—Teaching custom—Valley of Jehoshaphat—The Jews' burying-ground — Ugly adventure [Mark v. 1 - 3 ] — T h e fountain of the Virgin—Ascent to the village

CONTENTS.

ix

of Siloam [i Kings xi. 7; Luke xiii. 4]—Bedouin maidens—The domestic hand-mill [Matt. xxiv. 41]—The fountain and pool 0/ Siloam [John vii. 37, 38]—" The kings gardens"—En-rogel [1 Kings i, 9]—Valley 0/Hinnom [1 Kings xi. 7]—Probable scene 0/ yudas's suicide [Acts i. 18, 19]—Sepulchre of David—Plain of Rephaim—The Lower and Upper Gihon—A ruined aqueduct—Tower of David [1 Sam. v. 9}— Modern uses—Lively scenes near the Jaffa-gate—Sepulchres of the kings—The siesta—Prevalent conjecture in Jerusalem about the place of the crucifixion—Recent murder—Road to Anathoth—Traditional grotto of Jeremiah—Subterranean quarries—Probable uses [1 Kings vi. 7]—Adventures—Sunset from the Mount oj Olives—Gates shut—" Backsheesh." 113

VIII.— from the Pyramids— Unique position of Egypt in prophecy and history—The Nile—Egypt 0/ the future [Isn. xix. 22]— Railway to Suez—Despotism—Appearance of Suez—Crossing an arm of the Red Sea—Ride into the desert—The mirage—Oasis—"Fountains of the desert" [Ex. xv. 21I—.1/. ile Lesseps—A family picture—Emblem of the gospel—Miraculous passage imagined—(¡rand Suez Canal—A sand-storm—Port Said—Illness—The Russian steamer—Scene on deck—I-ying off Joppa.

E have s p o k e n of C a i r o as of t h e E a s t , E a s t e r n . this quality is g r a d u a l l y d i m i n i s h i n g .

The

But

influence

of E u r o p e is telling o n its a r c h i t e c t u r e , its c u s t o m s , a n d its c o s t u m e s , a n d t u r n i n g t h e p i c t u r e s q u e i n t o t h e prosaic. The

wave f r o m t h e W e s t

m o d i f y i n g everything.

is s w e e p i n g

over

everything

and

W h e n shall t h e wave of a p u r e Christi-

a n i t y sweep away its false religion a n d a h u n d r e d o t h e r evils with it, a n d , like t h e w a t e r s of E g y p t ' s b e n e f i c e n t river, d e p o s i t in t h e m i n d s of its p e o p l e t h e e l e m e n t s of a r e n e w e d life, the g e r m s of highest blessing I Still, C a i r o c o n t i n u e s to b e t h e m o s t O r i e n t a l of all the g r e a t cities of E g y p t , a n d our k n o w l e d g e of this s o o n d r e w us o u t from our hotel to a stroll a m o n g its bazaars.

Generally, the

streets which c o n t a i n t h e s e s h o p s of E a s t e r n traffic are very n a r r o w ; so m u c h so, t h a t it is o f t e n with g r e a t difficulty a n d m u c h need for m u t u a l a c c o m m o d a t i o n t h a t two p e r s o n s riding

26

TIIE STREETS

AND

on donkeys can pass cach other.

BAZAARS.

T h e s t o r e y s of t h e h o u s e s as

they ascend project more and more, a n d at length the highest s t o r e y s o n t h e o p p o s i t e s i d e s c o m e so n e a r , t h a t , o n

looking

up, you can only see the

custom

narrowest

l i n e of s k y ;

a

w h i c h , t h o u g h p e r h a p s n o t so f a v o u r a b l e t o v e n t i l a t i o n , e f f e c t ually p r o t e c t s b o t h t h e i n h a b i t a n t s a n d t h e p a s s e n g e r s f r o m t h e t e r r i b l e r a y s of a vertical sun. W e n o t i c e d t h e s a m e a p p a r e n t u n c o n s c i o u s n e s s of t h e m a r c h of t i m e a n d w a n t of " p u s h " in t h o s e c r o s s - l e g g e d m e r c h a n t s as in t h e i r b r e t h r e n of A l e x a n d r i a ; near

them

in t h e i r o w n

t h o u g h w h e n we sat

down

posture, and proceeded to bargain-

m a k i n g , t h e i r d r e a m y e y e s s p e e d i l y o p e n e d , a n d t h e y m a d e it very evident that they were wide awake.

T h e practice referred

t o in c e r t a i n of t h e " b o o k s of t h e P r o p h e t s " a l s o d r e w o u r a t t e n t i o n , — a s it a f t e r w a r d s d i d in o t h e r l a r g e cities of t h e E a s t . — o f whole streets being devoted artisanship and merchandise.

to o n e particular kind

of

O n e was entirely o c c u p i e d with

t a i l o r s ; a n o t h e r w i t h t h e m a k i n g of b r a z e n u t e n s i l s ; a t h i r d w a s e n g r o s s e d with t h e m a n u f a c t u r e a n d s a l e of r u d e , q u a i n t mirrors;

while in a f o u r t h , i n n u m e r a b l e n i m b l e f i n g e r s w e r e

b u s y a l m o s t a t t h e s a m e m o m e n t with t h e m a k i n g a n d selling of silken tassels. I t will n o t g r e a t l y s u r p r i s e o u r r e a d e r s t h a t , a m i d t h e n o i s e of s h o u t i n g c a m e l - d r i v e r s a n d d o n k e y - b o y s , of c u r i o u s l y v a r i e d street-calls, their

and

everlasting

the

incessant

importunity

" bucksheesh," and

of

beggars

wandering,

with

without

an

i n t e r p r e t e r o r g u i d e , in t o r t u o u s s t r e e t s t h a t s e e m e d t o o b e y n o law b u t t h a t of c o n f u s i o n , we s o o n f o u n d o u r s e l v e s in a n inextricable labyrinth.

B u t t h e d o n k e y is t h e c h e a p a n d p o p -

ular c o n v e y a n c e of C a i r o ; a n d t h r o w i n g o u r s e l v e s o n t o

the

b a c k of t h e first we m . t , a n d s i m p l y n a m i n g o u r h o t e l t o t h e q u i c k - w i t t e d b o y - d r i v e r , w e l e f t t h e rest to h i m . of

conveyance,

however,

which,

in

such

I t is a m o d e

narrow,

crowded

streets, r e q u i r e s skilful p i l o t a g e ; for y o u r legs a r e in

much

THE DOXKC Y-IiO Y.

27

danger of getting entangled with some passing object when you are at your full speed, and of either doing harm or getting harm.

T h e r e is often an impish love of mischief, too, about

the boy who is driving the animal from behind, which makes him indifferent about the rider, if he can only save his donkey. H e leaves it to the rider to see all dangers ahead.

We remem-

ber how an admired friend, some years before, when cantering along one of these streets at full speed, found himself and his donkey suddenly landed in a deep pit which had been opened, an hour or two before, in the middle of the street.

O u r friend's

irritation was increased when, on extricating himself from the ugly hole, he found all the interest and sympathy of the driver and the passers-by given to the ass, which they kindly examined and stroked, while he was left to gather himself up as he best might.

We suspect the K o r a n contains no parable like

that of the Good Samaritan. We were told, in one of our walks a b o u t Cairo, of some curious features in its police arrangements which worked effectually in preventing deeds of violence.

E a c h of the principal

crafts has a sheikh or chief who keeps his eye on the m e m b e r s of his own fraternity, and, knowing them all, secures the detection and punishment of offenders a m o n g them.

Moreover, the

whole city is divided into eight wards, under a separate police inspection ; and as the greater n u m b e r of the streets have no thoroughfare, and have gates guarded by a sentinel, which are closed at an early hour of the night, escape is next to impossible.

T h e n the administration of justice, though corrupt in

civil cases, is pure in criminal matters ; while punishment is certain, prompt, and terrible.

T h e consequence is, that Cairo,

whatever may be the measure of its offences in other respects, is more free from deeds of violence than many E u r o p e a n cities. In the case of some of our greatest cities, there is no elevated point from which we can look on them so as to include them in one view; they can only be seen in detail.

But in

28

VIEW

FROM

THE

CITADEL.

Cairo, its lofty C i t a d e l gives y o u this advantage.

It was built

b y the famous Saladin of the C r u s a d e s on a lateral ridge of the Mokattam

hills, at an elevation of a b o u t

t w o hundred

and

fifty feet a b o v e the level of the city, which it is more fitted to c o m m a n d than to p r o t e c t , — a s M o h a m m e d A l i more than o n c e discovered during his energetic but turbulent reign.

Certainly

the view from this grand e m i n e n c e is the noblest in E g y p t , and one o f the most m e m o r a b l e in all the East.

T h e vast city,

with its population of more than three hundred thousand persons, lies m a p p e d at your feet, every o b j e c t distinctly defined and clear in its colouring in the singularly pure Breaking the m o n o t o n y of the brown

flat-roofed

atmosphere. surface, there

are spacious and verdant g a r d e n s ; gorgeous p a l a c e s ; beautifully a d o r n e d public fountains ; t o m b s of the mighty d e a d , as large, in s o m e instances, as had been their habitations when living ; o c c a s i o n a l sycamores and palms casting their w e l c o m e shadows ; and, most characteristic of all, four hundred m o s q u e s scattered

over the

city and

rising

d o m e s and tall, white, airy minarets.

high with

their

swelling

L o o k i n g westward,

fields

of I n d i a n - c o r n , g r o v e s of palms, gardens of orange-trees, intermixed with sweet-scented limes and feathery bananas, spread a w a y in the direction of O l d b a n k s of the great river. itself, the islets;

mysterious,

C a i r o , and d o w n towards the

And

there is the resplendent river

beneficent

Nile,

dotted

with

verdant

while little boats, w i n g e d with white lateen sails, are

steering their way in the midst of them, up the stream.

Vil-

lages g l e a m i n g out here and there from an ambush o f trees give life to the l a n d s c a p e b e y o n d the river.

A n d yonder, at

the distance of five miles, are the mighty P y r a m i d s , the different courses of stones which c o m p o s e the e n o r m o u s structures, with the Sphinx rising from the sand near them, traceable with the n a k e d eye ; and b e y o n d the

Libyan

mountains,

Libyan wilderness.

these, closing up the view, are

stretching

away

into

the

illimitable

MOSQUE

OF MOHAMMED

AI J.

" lieyoml t h e d e c a y Of that colossal w r e c k , b nmdle.ss and bare, T h e lime a n d level s a n d s stretch far a w a y . "

L o o k i n g t o t h e e a s t w a r d of C a i r o , t h e r e is n o t h i n g b u t

sandy

waste,—dreary desolation. T h e r e w a s o n e o b j e c t of m u c h i n t e r e s t within t h e i n c l o s u r e of t h e C i t a d e l — t h e M o s q u e of M o h a m m e d Ali, a s t r u c t u r e n o t so r e m a r k a b l e for t h e p u r i t y or b e a u t y of its a r c h i t e c t u r a l style, as for t h e c o s t l i n e s s of its m a t e r i a l , e v e r y p a r t of it, e x c e p t its o u t e r wall, c o n s i s t i n g of O r i e n t a l a l a b a s t e r . t h a t w h i l e M o h a m m e d Ali o c c u p i e d

W e were informed

t w e n t y y e a r s in its e r e c -

t i o n , h e w o u l d n e v e r a l l o w it t o b e e n t i r e l y f i n i s h e d , f r o m t h e d r e a d p r o d u c e d b y a p o p u l a r p r o p h e c y t h a t w h e n t h e last s t o n e was laid h e s h o u l d

die.

W e f o u n d a f t e r w a r d s t h a t this is a

c o m m o n f o r m of p o p u l a r s u p e r s t i t i o n a m o n g r u l e r s all o v e r t h e East— t h e S u l t a n of T u r k e y n o t e x c e p t e d — a n d t h a t t h e y t h e r e fore always k e e p on h a n d

some unfinished building.

At

the

t i m e w h e n we e n t e r e d this g o r g e o u s s t r u c t u r e , t h e w o r s h i p p e r s were few, p r o b a b l y n o t m o r e t h a n six s c a t t e r e d

over a

t h a t was c a p a b l e of c o n t a i n i n g as m a n y t h o u s a n d s .

place

W e walked

silently o v e r t h e r i c h l y c a r p e t e d floor to t h e C a a b a - s t o n e w h i c h indicates the direction every mosque, and

of M e c c a , s u c h as is t o b e f o u n d

towards which every M o s l e m

p r e s e n t h a s his e y e a n d

his b o d y t u r n e d .

Jn all

in

worshipper likelihood,

this is a p r a c t i c e b o r r o w e d b y t h e M o h a m m e d a n s f r o m t h e a n c i e n t J e w i s h w o r s h i p , for it is n o w well k n o w n t h a t t h e r e was a s t o n e in e v e r y s y n a g o g u e — b o t h in J u d e a itself a n d in f o r e i g n countries—which

pointed

J e r u s a l e m a n d its t e m p l e ;

t h e w o r s h i p p e r in t h e d i r e c t i o n

of

a n d it w o u l d a l m o s t a p p e a r as if

t h e n o b l e exile D a n i e l m u s t h a v e h a d s o m e p r o v i s i o n of t h i s kind

in his d w e l l i n g in B a b y l o n , w h e r e h e p r a y e d

and

gave

t h a n k s b e f o r e his C o d t h r e e t i m e s a d a y , with his w i n d o w o p e n a n d his face t u r n e d t o w a r d s J e r u s a l e m . T h e r e was o n e o t h e r m o s q u e w h i c h s t o o d

o u t very p r o m i -

3o

Tin:

PKIXCE

or-

WAI.ES.

nently before us as beheld from the Citadel, r e m a r k a b l e fox the elegance of its proportions a n d the elaborate b e a u t y of its decorations, the pride of every M o s l e m heart in Cairo, which we visited later in the d a y — t h e M o s q u e of Sultan H a s s a n .

It

was built of stones brought from the Pyramids, a n d a d o r n e d at an expense sufficient to have drained the resources of a province.

T w o majestic fountains in front of this thing of beauty

— a t which, when we saw them, m a n y Moslem votaries were p e r f o r m i n g their sacred washings a n d purifications—were equal in elegance to the m o s q u e itself, a n d in a d m i r a b l e keeping with it.

T h e r e was a kind of aristocracy or inner sect a m o n g those

engaged in their ablutions, who m o n o p o l i z e d the purer fountain.

F o r sanitary reasons, we should certainly have j o i n e d

them in their preference.

W e were also struck with the fact

here, as in many other places seen by us subsequently, that a m u s e m e n t jostled a n d elbowed d e v o t i o n — f o r the open space around t h e sacred house, the square of the R o u m a y l e e , was the favourite resort of half the idlers of Cairo, who never wearied in looking on the exploits of native tumblers a n d the tricks of magicians and Syrian jugglers, or in listening to the songs of N u b i a n musicians a n d the improvised tales of A r a b i a n storytellers. All the time since we had entered Cairo, we had been fretting with a secret impatience to visit the oldest of all h u m a n m o n u m e n t s ; a n d the next m o r n i n g we gave the reins to our impatience, and were off to the Pyramids.

T h e presence of the

Prince of Wales in Cairo had been the occasion of greatly increasing the facilities and comforts of this pilgrimage.

In honour

of the heir to England's throne, the K h e d i v e had

improvised

a carriage-road all the way from his capital to t h e P y r a m i d s . Instead of the old system of d o n k e y s a n d drivers a n d dragomen, with a stock of provisions, a n d even, in some instances, a c o m p a n y of a r m e d followers, we set off in an open carriage with one fine, dark, tall N u b i a n for o u r guide.

Crossing t h e

TIIE

PYRAMIDS.

31

Nile by a bridge of boats, we hurried on, sometimes on open, exposed parts of the road, and sometimes through long and shady avenues of acacia-trees.

A t some points on the way the

road was still in course of being improved, and men were in the act of planting and watering y o u n g trees on either side of it.

W e observed that every gang of workers had a task-master

over them with a thick cudgel in his hand, which was not a mere idle b a d g e of office, but meant for u s e ; and we thought of the H e b r e w bondsmen

toiling thus under a broiling sun,

making bricks of mud such as that around us, and their lives made bitter to them under a far heavier bondage and more unrelenting task-masters.

W e were able to drive up so near that,

sitting in our vehicle, we could touch the lowest stones of the Pyramid.

But the eye of our Nubian guide was turned

another object than the wonderful pile.

to

A m o n g that motley

jabbering multitude scattered at its base, he saw a Nubian dark as himself, a native of the same mud-village a thousand miles up the Nile.

T h e recognition was simultaneous, and the next

moment the two brothers had fallen on each other's neck, and were locked

in each other's embrace.

T h e r e was

another

Bible reminiscence here. A n d those were the Pyramids of Egypt, the oldest and most stupendous human structures in the world !

T h e most com-

petent authorities on such matters have fixed the date of the erection of the principal P y r a m i d — t h a t

of C h e o p s — a t 2500

years n.c., which carries us back to within a few generations of the D e l u g e ; so that the builders may be imagined to have shaken

hands

with

the

sons

of

Noah.

The

Pyramid

of

Chephren bears the marks of greater skill in its masonry, and therefore probably arose a few ages l a t e r ; and though it is not quite so broad at its base as its neighbour of C h e o p s , yet, from being built on a loftier natural platform, it appears, when seen from certain points, to be higher than the other.

But the chief

notice of pilgrims is generally turned to the older pile, as being

32

THE srinxx.

the first that is a p p r o a c h e d

from

C a i r o , a n d , like the

elder

brother in an E a s t e r n f a m i l y , h a v i n g " the e x c e l l e n c y of dignity and the e x c e l l e n c y of p o w e r . "

A t first we had the e x p e r i e n c e

c o m m o n to most visitors, of finding s o m e difficulty in believing in the vast p r o p o r t i o n s assigned to it, as c o v e r i n g at its base twelve acres ; but, as we w a l k e d round it, a n d l e a n e d upon its lower b l o c k s a n d l o o k e d up to its a p e x , our incredulity melted a w a y without our needing the a d d i t i o n a l test of mensuration. W e w a l k e d aside for a little to the f a m o u s S p h i n x , which, indicating equal b o l d n e s s of c o n c e p t i o n with those great P y r a m i d s , g a v e e v i d e n c e not only of m a s o n i c skill, but of the g e n i u s of the sculptor.

I n length it is 1 4 3 feet, while it m e a s u r e s 1 0 2

feet round the f o r e h e a d ; t h e w h o l e — w i t h the e x c e p t i o n of the p a w s a n d a portion of the b a c k — b e i n g chiselled out of the solid rock.

W a s that c o l o s s a l figure, with its h u m a n h e a d a n d

lion's b o d y , an o b j e c t of worship ? representation of

O r was it an

the king, as uniting

w i s d o m and p o w e r ?

emblematic

in himself the highest

T h e fact that u n d e r its breast a n d be-

tween its e n o r m o u s p a w s there is a little t e m p l e with its altar, f r o m w h i c h incense must h a v e a s c e n d e d

into the e x p a n d e d

nostrils of the i m a g e , s e e m s rather to f a v o u r the f o r m e r conj e c t u r e , though it is not inconsistent with the o t h e r ; while the e m b l e m a t i c theory receives c o u n t e n a n c e f r o m the long a v e n u e s of s p h i n x e s that h a v e b e e n d i s c o v e r e d in other parts of

Egypt.

I m a g i n e those h e a p s of stones a n d debris, the a c c u m u l a t i o n of m o r e than four millenniums, to h a v e been carried a w a y from a r o u n d the b a s e of the two great P y r a m i d s , that they are again e n c a s e d in g r a y granite from Sinai, or in red p o r p h y r y from the M o k a t t a m hills, a n d a s e c o n d S p h i n x p l a c e d on the other side of the b r o a d path leading up to them, and we a p p r o a c h nearer to the s p e c t a c l e of those e n o r m o u s m a s s e s as the first generations l o o k e d on them. A n d w h o built those T i t a n i c structures, and what was the design of their builders ?

T h e s e are questions that h a v e been

SPECUI.A

7I0XS.

33

r e p e a t e d s i n c e t h e F a t h e r of h i s t o r y , m o r e t h a n t w o years ago, looked t h o u g h t t h e m old.

up

on

thousand

t h o s e s a m e t i m e - d e f y i n g piles, a n d

E v e n c o u l d it b e s h o w n t h a t c e r t a i n

astro-

n o m i c a l p r i n c i p l e s h a d b e e n r e c o g n i z e d in t h e i r e r e c t i o n , this, we h u m b l y s u g g e s t , w o u l d n o t w a r r a n t t h e c o n c l u s i o n t h a t t h e y h a d b e e n b u i l t for a s t r o n o m i c a l uses, a n y m o r e t h a n t h e p l a c i n g of a s u n - d i a l o n t h e c o r n e r of s o m e m o d e r n

mansion

would

p r o v e t h a t t h e h o u s e h a d b e e n built for t h e m e a s u r i n g of t i m e . We

have listened

exposition

of

his

to

Professor

Smyth's

theory—which

singularly

represents

the

ingenious

Pyramid

of

C h e o p s as r e a r e d for a half s a c r e d use, a s t h e d e p o s i t o r y of t h e s t a n d a r d m e a s u r e b o t h for l i q u i d s a n d for solid admiration, but without conviction. position

which regards t h e m

bodies—with

T h e old a n d p o p u l a r sup-

as r o y a l t o m b s

or

monuments

c o n t i n u e s b y far t h e m o s t p r o b a b l e , e s p e c i a l l y w h e n it is c o n s i d e r e d t h a t h u m a n r e m a i n s h a v e a c t u a l l y b e e n f o u n d in s o m e of t h e s m a l l e r P y r a m i d s .

Perhaps the ambitious structure on

t h e plain of S h i n a r m a y h a v e s u p p l i e d t h e first h i n t t o t h e m e n who planned

t h e m , in w h i c h c a s e , a s q u a i n t F u l l e r

marked,

" they are

Babel."'

O n this s u p p o s i t i o n , with t h e n a m e of t h e

that erected

them

the younger to

brethren

his o w n g l o r y b u r i e d

of in

has

re-

the Tower

of

monarch

impenetrable

o b l i v i o n , w h a t a m o n u m e n t a r e t h e y a t o n c e of h u m a n

power,

folly, a n d c r i m e ! Yet these mountain structures, which were almost

contem-

p o r a n e o u s in t h e i r e r e c t i o n w i t h t h e b e g i n n i n g of h u m a n history, a n d m a y very p o s s i b l y b e s t a n d i n g at its c l o s e , s u g g e s t more than one conclusion. human

rule a s s u m e d

T h e y prove at how early a period

the form

of g i g a n t i c

despotisms.

We

learn f r o m H e r o d o t u s t h a t t w e n t y t h o u s a n d m e n , r e l i e v e d e v e r y t h r e e m o n t h s , w e r e e m p l o y e d for t w e n t y y e a r s in e r e c t i n g t h e o n e P y r a m i d of C h e o p s .

T h e e n e r g i e s of a w h o l e n a t i o n w e r e

b e n t for so l o n g a p e r i o d , a n d its r e s o u r c e s d r a i n e d , t o g r a t i f y t h e m a d a m b i t i o n of o n e of t h e earliest of t h e P h a r a o h s .

And

34

POSITION

OF EGYPT

IN

HISTORY.

they also place it b e y o n d d o u b t that E g y p t must have been o n e of t h e first peopled countries, as well as o n e of the earliest cradles of the arts.

T h e r e must h a v e b e e n s o m e t h i n g m o r e

than m e r e b r u t e s t r e n g t h — a c o n s i d e r a b l e k n o w l e d g e of s o m e of the great m e c h a n i c a l laws, as well as of the rules of m a s o n r y — t o b e able to raise those h u g e b l o c k s to their place, and to rear those P y r a m i d s .

appointed

A n d when we find a m o n g

Egypt's earliest tomb-paintings a n d i m p e r i s h a b l e frescoes, pictures of the s h o e m a k e r ' s knife, of the weaver's hand-shuttle, a n d of the whitesmith's b l o w p i p e as it is used in our own days, we c a n n o t a d m i t that t h e r e is a s h a d e of e x t r a v a g a n c e in those lines of the old b a r d , — " E r e y e t the h e r o e s of D e u c a l i o n ' s blood P e l n s g i a peopled with a glorious brood, T l i c fertile plains of K g y p t

flourished

then,

P r o d u c t i v e cradle of the first of m e n . "

A n d now looking down from the P y r a m i d s u p o n Egypt, it was impossible not to be struck with its u n i q u e position in the religious history of the world.

F r o m t h e earliest times, d o w n

through t h a t l o n g series of ages in which a divine revelation was being given to the world through the m e d i u m of the chosen people, E g y p t s t a n d s forth in history as the chief a n t a g o n i s t a n d the u n c h a n g i n g e n e m y of the C h u r c h of ( i o d .

W e except

the period of J o s e p h , when the patriarch J a c o b a n d his family found a s u n n y refuge in G o s h e n ; b u t how few g e n e r a t i o n s elapsed before their house of refuge b e c a m e their h o u s e of b o n d a g e , a n d Israel in t h e brick-kilns b e c a m e t h e most cruelly oppressed

and

quence, b e c a m e

down-trodden t h e vast

of

theatre

slaves!

Egypt,

in

conse-

on which the m o r e awful

attributes of G o d were m a n i f e s t e d , just as P a l e s t i n e b e c a m e the selected scene in which the w o n d e r s of his grace should revealed.

be

T h o s e ten plagues in which a whole nation was

p u n i s h e d , a n d s h a m e p u t u p o n their false divinities through the very form of the miraculous j u d g m e n t s , awfully c u l m i n a t i n g in

POS/TIOX

/.V

PROPHECY.

35

the death of every first-born in the land and in the destruction of the proud P h a r a o h and his armed charioteers in the R e d Sea, were unapproached in their terrific scale of retribution in any of the older nations of the world.

And yet this long line

of ever darkening and deepening j u d g m e n t s taught the guilty people and their rulers no lesson of repentance.

All through

the centuries of the Jewish Church and the periods of the prophetic revelation, Egypt appears either as the tempter or as the persecutor of Israel, dividing the guilt, in this respect, with the Babylonian and Assyrian monarchies to the east of the sacred land. N o burden therefore reads more darkly in the " b o o k s of the Prophets " than that of Egypt.

T h e r e is a minuteness of de-

tail, a graphic picturing, an intensity of colouring, an adaptation to the characteristic customs of the people and to the characteristic features of Egyptian scenery, in such elaborate predictions as those in the nineteenth chapter of Isaiah and in certain passages of Ezekiel, that cannot be exceeded.

These

were spoken and placed on record when Egypt was still in the meridian of her power, and contending with the great monarchies on the b a n k s of the E u p h r a t e s and the Tigris for the supremacy of the nations.

A n d yet they have all been fulfilled.

With Gibbon and Volney as involuntary witnesses, and modern Egypt looked down upon by us from the Pyramids, we behold events corresponding not only to every line but to every letter of the inspired oracles.

T h e harmony is startling.

When we

read in those prophets that Egypt should " b e c o m e the basest of nations," that " there should no more be a prince of the land of Egypt," that the country should b e c o m e " d e s t i t u t e of that whereof it was f u l l ; " and when we place side by side with these oracles the facts that during the long ages of the M a m a luke supremacy her rulers were imported strangers and slaves —that for two thousand years no native prince has ever sat upon her throne, but its sovereignty has often been sold to the

THE

36

XII.E.

highest b i d d e r — t h a t the papyrus and the flax and the manufacture of

fine

linen which were

once her glory h a v e now

vanished, and the land which was once, with Sicily, the granary of the R o m a n empire, is scarcely able to supply b r e a d to its own inhabitants,—it would be madness to call such things as these

accidental

coincidences.

Reason

says,

Here

are

the

words and the working of H i m w h o " knoweth the end from the beginning." It would, however, be an utter mistake to say that this state of things has been produced by a direct curse from

Heaven

upon the land.

accom-

God

usually punishes nations, and

plishes his prophecies regarding them, by allowing their sins to work out their own natural consequences.

T h e curse lies in

the ignorance, the false religion, the p r o f o u n d moral debasement, and the exhausted energies of the people.

T h e y are so

d e b a s e d as not to be conscious of their debasement.

A l l the

natural resources of the country are just what they were when Pharaoh's daughter and her maidens c a m e down to glass themselves in the great river.

W e turn from gazing on those use-

less P y r a m i d s to look down on that munificent gift of G o d to E g y p t — t h e mysterious, silent, solitary Nile.

It is this which

creates E g y p t , annually renews it, fecundates it, saves it from being swallowed up by the all-encircling ocean of sand.

This

m a k e s it as unique in its physical geography as we h a v e seen it to b e in its history.

T h e singularity does not consist in the

mere fact of the annual inundations of the life-giving stream, for the same thing takes place with the L a Plata, the A m a z o n , and indeed with all great rivers whose source is within

the

t r o p i c s ; but in this further fact, that as there is scarcely any rain-fall

in E g y p t , its fertility entirely d e p e n d s on the Nile.

Wherever it reaches, there are verdure and a b u n d a n c e , and " F^vpt joy.-; lr.T.c:ith l!ic spreading wave." Meyond its influence is the reign of desolation.

But then, by

RAILWAY

TO SUEZ.

37

the increase and extension of canals for inland conveyance, and still more for irrigation, and by the use of machinery lur raising the water above its natural level, whole sandy provinces might be reclaimed, and dreary deserts Goshens.

turned into smiling

T h e r e is an almost miraculously exuberant fertility

in the mud of the Nile when it is shone upon by an sun.

Egyptian

It is scarcely extravagant to say that the river is " a

solution of Ethiopia's richest regions, and the vast country is merely a precipitate."

T h e cucumber and the melon-shoot

have sometimes been known to grow twenty-four inches in as many hours.

There

are extensive districts which cheerfully

yield a rotation of four crops in the same year.

T h e date-palm

alone is to the Egyptian what the reindeer is to the poor Laplander; supplying him at once with milk and food, cordage and fuel, basket-work and clothing.

A n d there are budding pro-

phecies which keep alive the hope that temporal prosperity will return to this land when her people have welcomed the higher blessing.

" T h e Lord shall smite and heal i t ; and they

shall

return to the Lord, and he shall be entreated of them, and shall heal them" Early on the following morning, we were off by railway to Suez, a long journey of 1 8 0 miles, through a region that was almost entirely desert.

T h e old camel-road must have been

drearier still, for there is only one tree visible in its long track of desolation.

T h e railways of E g y p t are the property of the

K h e d i v e , and are under his entire m a n a g e m e n t ; and we had an experience of his railway rule on this journey that did not increase our love for absolute and irresponsible government.

It

so happened that he was to cross our line some time on that day, and no train was allowed to approach his point of transit until he had passed.

T h e consequence was, that we were kept sitting for

hours under a burning Egyptian sun, at a station whose neighbourhood was so infested by reptiles that we could almost believe tiiat Cleopatra must have obtained from it her deadly asp.

3?

MIRAGE

OF THE

DESERT.

Suez stands at the head of the R e d Sea, on its western shore. T h e r e is nothing beautiful about it, looking out, as it does, upon a broad ocean of yellow sands and a narrow stripe of green water.

But it has an interest to Englishmen as the point

of embarkation or of landing for passengers to or from our Indian possessions; and we confess to having had a feeling of greater nearness to h o m e when, on looking two miles down the gulf, we saw a little fleet of ships at anchor, with the unmistakable British build about them. Our principal object in diverging thus far out of our way to Palestine, was to enjoy a day's ride into the desert on

the

route to Sinai, so far as the traditional wells of Moses.

We

crossed in a boat a little arm of the R e d Sea, taking mules and muleteers with us for our trackless desert-ride. On our right, about a mile and a half distant, the sea stretched itself out before us, gradually swelling into a breadth of apparently a b o u t six miles, mountains of considerable elevation and abruptness rising on its further side.

I m m e d i a t e l y in front

of us, and towards the east, as far as the eye could reach, there spread an illimitable sea of sand.

O u r sure-footed

animals

carried us forward with a fair a m o u n t of speed, the sandy path beneath their feet sounding crisp as snow when the frost has been keen.

T h e r e was no a p p e a r a n c e of vegetation, save, at

intervals, a little tuft of coarse grass struggling to live, and scarcely succeeding.

An occasional lizard, yellow as the sand,

and sickly, m a d e us wonder how it contrived to pick up a living under such disadvantages. by something more exciting.

But our ride was diversified Twice, in the course of four

hours, we were so fortunate as to see a mirage of the desert. T h e r e appeared to rise suddenly before us at some distance, as if by an enchanter's wand, a blue sparkling lake, with men riding on camels at its brink.

At times the riders advanced a

little way into the lake, and the water splashed around the camels' feet.

T h e deception seemed so beautifully real, that it

THE FOUNTAINS

OF A/OSFS.

39

was with difficulty wc could reason ourselves into the belief of its unreality. We knew how science had accounted for the phenomenon even in such remarkable instances as the Fata Morgana of the Strait of Messina and the Spectre of the Brocken in Germany. But it was only by our riding up to the spot that the illusion was entirely dispelled. At length, after four hours' riding, a green oasis appeared at no great distance, at the sight of which our little mules pricked up their ears and quickened their pace. We found it to consist of two inclosures, probably about five acres in extent, surrounded by hedges woven with dried palm-leaves. It con tained palms and fig-trees, pomegranates and tamarisks; and in the midst of these, and shaded by them, several fountains, in one of which, especially, the water bubbled up in great force, helping to irrigate and keep green a large space around it. Were these the fountains to which Moses came with his emancipated pilgrims on the third day after their wondrous passage through the neighbouring gulf, and where, by a miracle, he turned the waters into sweetness] The answer to this question depends upon another which, in spite of all that has been written on the subject, remains to this hour unsettled, Where is the point of the miraculous passage of the Hebrew host and their emergence on the sandy wilderness? The opinion has for a good while been gaining ground, that this branch of the Red Sea extended, at the period of the Exodus, much further inland and eastward. M. De Lesseps, the latest writer on the subject, believes that he traced convincing evidence of the presence of this sea a long way eastward in the line of his canal, and even professes to have identified, on the margin of the " Iiitter Lakes," the scene of the miraculous deliverance. Should this theory turn out to be correct, it will rather increase the likelihood that these are the actual Marah fountains. The little spot was curious, however, apart from those sacred associations which are supposed by many to hang around it

EMBLEM

4°

OF THE

GOSPEL.

W e f o u n d h u m a n e n t e r p r i s e a n d d o m e s t i c life e v e n h e r e .

One

f a m i l y lives in a h o u s e p r i n c i p a l l y b u i l t of p a l m - b r a n c h e s a n d t h a t c h e d wit.i p a l m - l e a v e s — p a r t i a l l y t h a t c h e d o n l y , for in t h e m i d d l e of t h e h o u s e t h e r e w a s an a c a c i a f l o u r i s h i n g a n d rising t h r o u g h t h e roof, w i t h a b e a u t i f u l w h i t e d o v e p e r c h e d o n o n e of its t o p m o s t b r a n c h e s , a n d a m u s k e t h a n g i n g f r o m a n o t h e r . T h e m a s t e r is a L e v a n t i n e , h a s a wife a n d a p r e t t y b o y , contrives to gain a precarious livelihood

and

f r o m s u c h visits as

ours, a n d a l s o f r o m h u n t i n g g a z e l l e s a n d o t h e r g a m e o v e r t h e surrounding desert. Outside the inclosure, on a sandy e m i n e n c e a b o u t a hund r e d y a r d s d i s t a n t , t h e r e w a s a l a r g e f o u n t a i n with a m a j e s t i c old p a l m b e n d i n g o v e r it.

W h e n we g o t u p t o it, a c o m p a n y

of B e d o u i n s w e r e s t a n d i n g on its f u r t h e r s i d e g i v i n g t h e i r c a m e l r drink.

The

salutations between

them and ourselves had

t h e g r a v e e l a b o r a t i o n of t h e d a y s of t h e p a t r i a r c h s .

al!

It hap-

p e n e d r a t h e r s t r a n g e l y t h a t all t h e f o u r q u a r t e r s of t h e g l o b e w e r e a t t h a t m o m e n t r e p r e s e n t e d at t h i s well in t h e

desert.

T h o s e swarthy B e d o u i n s represented Asia, the m u l e t e e r s w h o m \\c h a d b r o u g h t f r o m S u e z w e r e c h i l d r e n of A f r i c a , o u r c o m p a n i o n a n d o u r s e l f s t o o d s p o n s o r s for E u r o p e , a n d a n A m e r i c a n artist, w h o h a d j o i n e d o u r g r o u p , for A m e r i c a .

The

fountain

b e c a m e t o us a n e m b l e m of C h r i s t ' s g o s p e l with its i n e s t i m a b l e b l e s s i n g s , for t h e r e w a s a m p l e r o o m a r o u n d it for all, a n d t h e r e was water enough a thousand

t i m e s o v e r t o s l a k e t h e t h i r s t of

the whole many-coloured company. O n o u r r e t u r n to Suez, we k e p t n e a r e r t o t h e sea, anil tried t o i m a g i n e t h e s c e n e of t h e m i r a c u l o u s p a s s a g e of t h e I s r a e l i t e s . In t h e m o u n t a i n s o p p o s i t e , rising like a wall n e a r to t h e s h o r e , we c o u l d see o p e n i n g s o r g o r g e s h e m m e d in by hills a n d prec i p i c e s o n e i t h e r side, a l o n g w h i c h t h e b a n n e r e d

multitude,

g u i d e d a n d g u a r d e d b y t h e pillar of fire, m a y h a v e a d v a n c e d t o w a r d s t h e s w e l l i n g sea.

W e c o u l d i m a g i n e t h e I s r a e l i t e s , at

t h e w o r d of M o s e s , a d v a n c i n g t o w a r d s t h e p e b b l y s a n d , w h e n

MIRACULOUS

PASSAGE

OF RED

SEA.

41

the waves o p e n e d before them, and the myriad hosts marched through as on a rocky p a v e m e n t , the obedient waters high like walls of crystal on either side.

rising

T h e feet of the last

pilgrim have scarcely touched the sand of the A r a b i a n

desert,

when the waters close on the pursuing chariots of E g y p t with their horses and riders, and the whole army of E g y p t perishes with its king in one watery grave.

W e could imagine Miriam

and her maidens sounding the loud timbrel and moving in the sacred dance on the neighbouring sands, and singing their song of triumph in praise of that most stupendous miracle which wrote itself indelibly in the poetry of the H e b r e w s , and struck terror into the hearts of the surrounding nations at the thought of " a G o d who was able to deliver after this s o r t . " On the following morning, we left Suez for Port Said, hoping to find an early opportunity of crossing from thence to the Iloly Land.

T h e first three hours of our j o u r n e y were by rail

to Ismailia, where, entering a small steamer, we sailed across the

" Bitter

Lakes,"

and

proceeded

C a n a l towards the Mediterranean shore.

along the G r a n d

Suez

W e naturally looked

with much interest upon this stupendous triumph of engineering skill, which public opinion is rapidly c o m i n g to regard as not only a grand feat of modern enterprise, but an benefit to the world.

immense

I t is impossible to withhold high admi-

ration from the man whose genius planned it, whose energy a c c o m p l i s h e d it in the f a c e of a thousand difficulties, physical, political, and

financial,

and whose hopeful enthusiasm

sank when prophecies of failure were at the loudest.

never

In length

nearly 1 0 0 miles, in depth 26 feet, in width at the bottom 7 2 feet, and on the surface 1 9 6 feet, it links the

Mediterranean

with the R e d S e a , and shortens the sea-path between E n g l a n d and the E a s t 7 5 0 0 miles.

With India, as so vast and rich a

portion of the British empire, to no country in the world is it so important commercially and politically as our own.

When

we look back upon those useless P y r a m i d s , the work of des-

THE SUEZ

42 potism,

the

monument

of an

CAA/AL. ambition

t h a t outwitted

and

b e f o o l e d itself, and c o m p a r e t h e m with a g r a n d h u m a n work like this, whose

t e n d e n c y is to e x p a n d the c o m m e r c e

and

increase t h e wealth of the world and to p r o m o t e the brotherh o o d of nations, it is impossible not to feel that in the two we h a v e a m e a s u r e of h u m a n progress, and that in the long interval the world has been b e c o m i n g wiser a n d better. But n o t h i n g can ever m a k e this canal picturesque.

The

ugliest canal in H o l l a n d has now a n d then a r e d e e m i n g feature, b u t this is the veriest realization of d r e a r i n e s s a n d On either side it is s a n d — a l l sand.

monotony.

O n e traveller describes

certain places on its b a n k s as r e n d e r e d gay a n d brilliant by innumerable

flocks

of rosy pelicans, scarlet

snow-white spoonbills.

flamingoes,

and

A n d we d o not question his accuracy.

But on the d a y of our voyage, we had e x p e r i e n c e of a phenomenon

which m a d e the dreariness m o r e dreary, a n d

every bird in n a t u r e to a distance.

drove

T h i s was a s a n d - s t o r m , in

which the sand blew a n d drifted all a r o u n d us, as in a violent fall of snow when the wind h a s risen to a gale.

W e are now

writing with a snow-storm b e a t i n g against o u r windows, b u t this is n o t h i n g to t h e blinding, choking, stupefying effect of a storm when the s a n d s of the desert are rained pitilessly u p o n us.

E y e s a n d ears, nose a n d m o u t h , all b e c o m e foul or gritty.

T h e pilot of our little vessel stood peering through the t e m p e s t , as we have seen s h e p h e r d s in our own land when the snow was played with by a whirlwind, often at a loss to k n o w w h e r e h e H a d this state of things c o n t i n u e d for a fortnight, M.

was.

I.esseps would h a v e n e e d e d to c o m m e n c e digging his canal anew.

Travellers on their way through the A r a b i a n desert to

M o u n t Sinai, on s o m e rare occasions e n c o u n t e r such storms. T h e best-equipped caravan finds difficulty in toiling on against it.

T h e Bedouins, with their h e a d s c o v e r e d with shawls a n d

their b a c k s turned to the storm, leave the c a m e l s to their own guidance, and the p a t i e n t a n i m a l s c o n t i n u e m o v i n g straight

A SABBA

TU A T PORT

SAID.

43

forward, now and then throwing their long necks sideways to avoid the tempest.

T h e whole thing was unpleasant enough

while it lasted, but what was this to the experience of travellers when that " angel of death," the fiery simoom, " spreads his wings on the b l a s t " !

Before we reached Port Said the evening

had become beautifully calm, and the Egyptian moon looked down upon us in most serene brightness from a cloudless sky. Port Said is the rapid creation of the same enterprise that has produced the canal.

T e n years since, it consisted ot a few

miserable shanties, and all its fresh water was brought from a place thirty miles distant across the lake Menzalch in little A r a b b o a t s ; now, its water is brought in pipes, and it has many other of the conveniences of a European city, with a population exceeding 10,000. To-morrow, March 2 1 , was the Sabbath-day, and we had hoped to find our " pension," which looked out so pleasantly on the bright sea, turned into a little sanctuary j but the long fast and the wearisome sail through that howling wilderness laid prostrate with dysentery.

us

T h o s e were the first hours of sad-

ness since we had left home.

But a good Samaritan appeared

in the afternoon, in the person of a generous M . P . , a member of the Wesleyan Church, who had been our fellow-passenger on the previous day, and who brought us a native medicine which he had obtained in Cairo.

T h i s soon restored us, and proved

invaluable to many others in our subsequent wanderings.

At

noon on the Monday a Russian steamer hove in view, and in a few hours later had us out of sight of Egypt, promising to land us at J o p p a early on the next day. with a many-tongued and motley

T h e ship was crowded

company.

Pilgrims from

many countries were on their way to J e r u s a l e m to celebrate the Latin Easter.

J e w s reclining on the deck on little strips of

carpet, were going up to keep the

Passover.

easily have taken up their bed and walked.

They

could

It was a calm

clear night ; but the captain lost his way, and in the morning

44

JOPPA

WITHIX

SIGHT.

we were considerably north of our landing-place. see not far off the ruined harbour o f the R o m a n beyond, the forest-crowned

W e could Cajsarea :

promontory of C a rind, and that

broad, white, majestic mountain, rising like a wall many thousand feet to the sky, was the snowy I l e r m o n — a grand, welcome, unexpected vision.

It was therefore near mid-day before

we cast anchor and lay off J o p p a .

III. (Dur View of Joppa from

Ascent

the sen—Mischievous

to

Jerusalem.

boatmen—Biblical

associations

16; Jonah i. 3 ; Acts i*. 36]—Historical associations—Sources 0/modern Elders sitting in the gate [Ruth ¡v.]—House 0/ Simon the tanner—The wards the sea [Acts x.J—Correlation between the events of Scripture and

[a

Chron. ii.

prosperity— outlook tothe scenery of Palestine—Hitter—The Joppa gardens—The reckless rider—The Pasha's road — The Sharon valley—The soil and the scenery [Dcut. xi. 10-12]—The riderless horse—A difficulty—The land of the Philistines [Zech. i*. 5 ] — L y d d a — E n e a s and Porcas—Fuller and Faber—ihe convent of Ramleh—Scene in the courtyard— Monkish cookery and lenten fare—a Scottish nobleman doing penance—The midnight sky of Palestine [Gen. xv. 5].

U R landing at J o p p a h a d n o spice of a d v e n t u r e a b o u t i t ; for t h o u g h our ship cast a n c h o r a b o u t a mile from t h e shore, t h e sea was comparatively calm, a n d we had n o n e of the agony of conscious danger, which m a k e s the next m o m e n t ' s sense of safety d o u b l y sweet.

W e h a d time,

therefore, as the j a b b e r i n g A r a b b o a t m e n rowed us t o the landing-place, to realize the main features of the picture t h a t lay before us. That

narrow sandy b e a c h

stretching far southward

from

J o p p a is the shore-line of the country of the Philistines, who were alternately the persecutors a n d t h e t e m p t e r s of the people of I s r a e l — t h o r n s in their eyes, a n d snares to their feet.

The

waves of the sea at certain places still dash u p to t h e ruins of their crumbling castles, a n d to the long desolate temples of their idol-gods.

T h o s e sandy downs, again, stretching n o r t h -

ward to the Bay of Acre, which remind us of t h e d u n e s of H o l l a n d or of our own Lincolnshire, a n d which are the h a u n t (429) 4

46

MISCHIEVOUS

BOATMEN.

of m a n y a graceful gazelle, conceal behind them what was once the exuberantly fertile valley of Sharon ; and those mountains which bound our view inland are the hill country of J u d a h , rich alike in reminiscences of peace and of war, of bannered hosts and of quiet " loopholes of retreat."

A n d that J o p p a

itself, to which every stroke of the oar is bringing us nearer, built upon a conical mountain, and rising in tiers of streets to its summit—which is crowned with a half-ruined Turkish citadel — l o o k s imposing and even picturesque as beheld from the sea. But what an entrance to the landing-place !

A strip of water,

apparently not more than forty feet wide, with jagged rocks on either side, as if eager for the work of destruction, is your only passage.

W h a t must be the danger in a rough sea, when one

unskilful stroke of the oarsman

might impale the boat on

either rock, and send everything to the b o t t o m ]

Hundreds

have perished in this way within a few yards of land, with no newspaper to record the catastrophe.

T h i s treacherous port,

with its usually foaming surf, has been well described as the " true sea-monster which has devoured many an A n d r o m e d a , for whose deliverance no gallant Perseus was at hand."

Even

in calm weather, like to-day's, there was a swell h e r e ; and the mischievous boatmen kept us tossing for a time between the points of the two ugly rocks, hoping that our fears or our impatience to land might perhaps better their bargain.

But we

looked stolid and were inexorable, and the disappointed rascals allowed us at length to plant foot in Palestine. Experiences like these, as well as care for our luggage, which many in that swarthy, bare-legged multitude had an unpleasant fondness for handling and lifting, as well as the miniature Babel in the midst of which we found ourselves, were by no means favourable to sentiment, and indeed m a d e us for the time very prosaic and matter-of-fact.

It was only when, pass-

ing through an ancient archway, and ascending by blind alleys and narrow steep lanes incredibly filthy, we were welcomed

BIB LI CA I. ASSOC 1.1

TIOXS.

47

into the house of the English consul, that we became gratefully awake to the fact that the desire and the dream of a lifetime had begun to be realized.

As we looked forth from the con-

sul's house, which stood high on the crest of the mountain, the Biblical

associations connected with

before us.

Joppa

passed

rapidly

Without going so far back as Pliny, who would

m a k e this place antedate the Deluge, we are safe in regarding it as one of the oldest towns in the world.

W h e n the land was

first divided a m o n g the tribes by Joshua, it was granted to D a n under the n a m e of J a p h o — " Why did D a n remain in ships?"— and all down through nearly three millenniums, it has been the sea-port of Jerusalem and the chief western sea port of Palestine.

Cedars and pines which had been felled on the slopes

of L e b a n o n for the building of both temples were b o r n e on floats to this place, and carried up on waggons to Jerusalem. It was here that the rebellious J o n a h found the ship a b o u t to sail for Tarshish, in which he took flight from his unwelcome mission ; only to be pursued, however, by the storm as God's angry messenger, and cast on shore, as God's prisoner, by the sea-monster.

H e r e in the earliest Christian times Dorcas plied

her nimble needle, and m a d e coats and garments for its widows and orphans " whilst she was with them," for " the lantern of men's good deeds cast the best light when carried before them, and done in their lifetime."

A n d here also, when her useful

life was cut short too soon, she was restored by miracle to her weeping beneficiaries.

And down somewhere on that shore,

where the white surf is now playing with the sand, Peter once dwelt in the house of Simon the tanner, and was favoured with that teaching vision which told him that, under the new dispensation, the Gentile was to stand on an equal platform of privilege with the Jew. And historical associations mingle with and succeed these sacred recollections.

For J o p p a has seen the prowess of Mac-

cabaean patriots, has stood the brunt of R o m a n assaults, has

48

ELDERS SITTING

IN THE GA TE.

shuddered and bled under Saracen domination, has risen to fresh life under the more h u m a n e rule of the Crusaders, and, after sinking almost out of notice for ages, has in later times startled the world by those wholesale massacres, of which it b e c a m e the scene under the first N a p o l e o n , which have left stains upon his character which no chemist's or sophist's art will ever wash out.

A traveller, writing two centuries ago,

records that " of this great city at this day only two old towers d o survive."

But its soap manufactories, its cultivation of silk

in the neighbouring gardens and in mulberry orchards that stretch northward for some miles, the a b u n d a n c e and unrivalled excellence of its fruits, and, above all, the fact that it is the gate of entrance for pilgrims from the West to Jerusalem, have once more gradually raised it from its ruins, so that it is now supposed to n u m b e r a population of six thousand.

Of these, by

far the greater n u m b e r are M o h a m m e d a n s ; more than a thousand are Christians of the various Eastern c r e e d s ; there are a few Jews, with an unusual sprinkling of those adventurous vagabonds who a b o u n d in all sea-ports. W e were told that at the northern gate of J o p p a , which is its only entrance landward, there might still be seen, amid the noise of braying donkeys and wrangling Arabs, the cadi or native judge, surrounded by white-bearded elderly men, hearing causes and dispensing a kind of rough summary justice, such as was seen in the gate of Bethlehem in the days of the sorrowful N a o m i and the manly Boaz.

It was one of those sights

which we should have specially enjoyed, but we arrived too late in the day for witnessing it. By the help of the consul, however, we found a trusty guide to the traditional house of Simon the t a n n e r ; and we lost no time in visiting it, as we h a d arranged to proceed in the afternoon on our way to Jerusalem so far as Ramleh.

T h e r e is a

fountain near the house, which is affirmed to have been useful in Simon's c r a f t ; and we saw a solitary fig-tree beginning to

HOUSE

OF SIMON

TIIE

49

TANNER.

send forth its b u d s a l o n g the gable-wall.

W e a s c e n d e d by a

well-worn stair t h r o u g h a succession of storeys, a n d

emerging

from the half-darkness by a k i n d of o p e n t r a p - d o o r u p o n t h e flat

roof, l o o k e d

forth

upon

the d e e p

blue

spreading, as if inimitably, to the west. actual h o u s e of Simon t h e t a n n e r ?

Mediterranean,

And

was this the

Of course not.

But it m a y

j u s t as p r o b a b l y b e s t a n d i n g on the site of the h o s p i t a b l e craftsm a n ' s h o u s e as any other.

Suppose, as s o m e h a v e suggested,

that his tan-work m u s t h a v e b e e n outside t h e town, still his residence m a y h a v e b e e n in it.

A n d to s o m e such roof as this

in J o p p a , P e t e r must often h a v e a s c e n d e d to p r a y ; from s o m e such point as this h e must have looked out on t h a t v e r y s e a ; on s o m e such spot as this h e must h a v e b e h e l d that vision which so enlarged his m i n d , a n d was to him as a newly-written page in the volume of revelation. A n d there was a divine fitness in t h e choice of such a s c e n e for such a c o m m u n i c a t i o n .

H i s b a c k was t u r n e d u p o n J u d e a ;

he was looking in the direction of " the isles of t h e G e n t i l e s ; " and doubtless his t h o u g h t s far outstripped

his n a t u r a l

sight

when the heavenly message, w r a p p e d in s y m b o l , told him that those Gentiles were now to b e " fellow-heirs a n d p a r t a k e r s of the same promise in Christ by the gospel."

T h e D e a n of West-

minster has wrought out this idea with m u c h ingenuity a n d beauty.

But he h a s s t o p p e d short in its application half-way.

T h e r e was a d o u b l e c o m m u n i c a t i o n

from the skies.

Simul-

taneously with that to P e t e r at J o p p a was t h a t to Cornelius t h e centurion at Caesarea, the o n e R o m a n sea-port of which also looked out towards t h e far west.

Palestine,

A n d there was a

m a r k e d felicity in the a r r a n g e m e n t that the key which was to o p e n wide the d o o r of the Christian C h u r c h to t h e G e n t i l e world should b e put into the a p o s t l e ' s h a n d s at the o n e place, a n d that the door should actually b e o p e n e d by him at the other. Few things, indeed, m o r e strike the mind of a traveller in

SCRIPTURE

5°

AND

SCENERY.

t h e H o l y L a n d t h a n the way in which t h e e v e n t s

recorded

in Scripture, a n d the scenery in the m i d s t of which they are said

to h a v e

a n d all the

occurred,

fit

minuter o u t w a r d

fact ever recurring

into

each

incidents

other.

The

locality

perfectly tally.

in new forms, at o n c e

The

startles a n d

de-

lights you, and you receive a d e e p e n e d conviction that

the

record must be true.

W e h a d n o t e d this impression m o r e than

o n c e in our j o u r n a l ; a n d since our return h o m e , we h a v e b e e n gratified in finding it so strongly expressed in t h e pages of t h e G e r m a n Ritter.

S p e a k i n g of the Sinai P e n i n s u l a , he says, " W e

have also discovered a r e m a r k a b l e correlation

between

the

events which are said to have transpired there, a n d t h e scene where they transpired.

A n d it is j u s t as strikingly t h e case,"

he adds, " in P a l e s t i n e ; a n d t h e g e o g r a p h y of the country, as we find it to-day, is the strongest t e s t i m o n y of the truth of that history which p u r p o r t s to e m a n a t e thence.

T h e n a t u r a l scenery

of P a l e s t i n e s p e a k s with b u t o n e voice in favour of t h e B i b l e ; every word of the sacred narrative receives its best interpretation by b e i n g studied in c o n n e c t i o n with the place w h e r e it was recorded.

N o o n e can trace, without joy and wonder,

the

verification which g e o g r a p h y pays to the history of the H o l y Land.

So strong is the a r g u m e n t d r a w n t h e n c e , that the m o s t

subtle dialectician is baffled by it, and is e n t r a p p e d in the n e t which his own sophistry has spun."

W e shall see m o r e of this

as we p r o c e e d . I t was some hours yet b e f o r e sunset when, h a v i n g engaged a temporary

dragoman

with horses a n d mules, we left J o p p a ,

i n t e n d i n g to s p e n d t h e night in o n e of the c o n v e n t s of R a m l e h , a b o u t nine miles distant.

W e slowly steered o u r way a m o n g

multitudes who were k e e p i n g holiday outside the walls, and h a d e x t e m p o r i z e d b a z a a r s erected for the sale of nuts a n d fruits, nond e s c r i p t c o n f e c t i o n s and cooling d r i n k s ; a n d we were soon down on t h e level path.

O u r way then led through t h e m i d s t of t h e

f a m o u s g a r d e n s b e h i n d J o p p a , which were fenced in on either

A RECKLESS

side by lofty h e d g e s of the prickly pear. ing forth its t e n d e r buds.

51

RIDER.

T h e fig-tree was send-

T h e orange, t h e citron, the lemon,

the apricot, the p o m e g r a n a t e , the a l m o n d , were all in their vernal glory.

T h e air was soft a n d b a l m y with m o r e than

"Sabean odours."

M u c h of t h e wealth of J o p p a is o b t a i n e d

from these gardens, a n d m u c h of their p r o d u c e is e x p o r t e d to E u r o p e , a n d reserved for royal b a n q u e t s .

T h e light sandy soil

is favourable to the g r o w t h of the trees a n d to the size a n d delicacy of the fruits, a n d the trees are k e p t u n d e r perfect irrigation b y the c o n s t a n t working of h u n d r e d s of Persian waterwheels, which bring u p water in a b u n d a n c e from what m a n y believe to b e a vast s u b t e r r a n e a n river which percolates silently b e n e a t h into the n e i g h b o u r i n g sea.

T h e c o n d i t i o n s of culture

must b e exceptionally favourable, for when trees from these g a r d e n s are t r a n s p l a n t e d to o t h e r places a n d s u b j e c t e d to the same t r e a t m e n t , t h e fruit speedily degenerates. A s we were riding a l o n g at a m o d e r a t e pace, a y o u n g m a n , gaudily dressed after the native fashion, r o d e furiously past on a fiery steed, w h o m we were to meet with again in o t h e r circumstances b e f o r e our day's j o u r n e y was e n d e d .

We have spoken

of a road, a n d t h e r e are f r a g m e n t s of the way u p from J o p p a to J e r u s a l e m which have s o m e claim to b e so described.

The

P a s h a has m a d e his first a t t e m p t at r o a d - m a k i n g on this route. But, like all his o t h e r a t t e m p t s in the direction of civilization, it has been spasmodic, fitful, reluctant, a n d h a s s t o p p e d short whenever his e x c h e q u e r t h r e a t e n e d to b e c o m e a little shallow. Vou have, therefore, r o a d - m a k i n g in all its degrees on this first j o u r n e y — s o m e places finished, m a n y m o r e half-finished, a n d therefore intolerably rough a n d impassable, and others little more than m a r k e d off, and scarcely t o u c h e d as yet by the s p a d e or the m a t t o c k .

W e u n d e r s t o o d t h a t an o m n i b u s of r u d e con-

struction, a n d without springs, h a d o n c e or twice a t t e m p t e d t h e j o u r n e y on this abortive road to and from J e r u s a l e m , and that it had d o n e its work with difficulty in the course of a week.

THE VALLEY

52

OF

SHARON.

T h e passengers must surely h a v e b e e n b r i b e d t o travel by it. O n e d a y on it might h a v e served as a severe p e n a n c e for any refractory m o n k in the R a m l e h c o n v e n t , where we were h o p i n g to s p e n d t h e night.

But this is the only r o a d within the b o u n -

daries of the H o l y L a n d , as t h a t w o n d e r f u l o m n i b u s is its only wheeled conveyance.

A f t e r to-morrow we must b e c o n t e n t to

ride on p a t h s that owe everything to natural c a u s e s : u p o n hard, uneven r o c k s ;

among boulder

stones

and

scraggy

bushes;

u p o n m o u n t a i n ledges with d e e p ravines far b e n e a t h , on which a false step would be destruction ; in t h e dry b e d s of m o u n t a i n t o r r e n t s ; a n d s o m e t i m e s even in gravelly c h a n n e l s where t h e water is yet

flowing.

Alpine passes are child's play to s o m e of

those giddy rides which await us on t h e way down to J e r i c h o a n d in the region of the D e a d Sea.

N e r v o u s p e o p l e of either

sex h a d b e t t e r satisfy t h e m s e l v e s with d o n k e y - r i d e s in Egypt, or with the luxuries of a Nile b o a t up to the First Cataracts. But h o w delightful to us was that first a f t e r n o o n in the H o l y Land !

T h e air was wonderfully exhilarating.

Then

every-

thing was new, and s e e m e d to h a v e a h u e of s a c r e d n e s s u p o n it.

K e e p i n g generally aloof from the P a s h a ' s unfinished path,

we r o d e briskly along on the green-sward, a n d b y the b a n k s of sparkling s t r e a m l e t s m a k i n g their sweet music, with wild flowers of every form a n d colour rising a b o v e the k n e e s of our horses, even t o our stirrups.

N o w o n d e r at this luxuriant h e r b a g e ;

for we were skirting along the valley of S h a r o n — t h e n a m e in Scripture for a b u n d a n c e a n d b e a u t y — a n d it was fertile a n d joyous yet, even after centuries of neglected culture a n d c o n sequent decay.

L o o k i n g a r o u n d , we c o u l d see b r a i r d e d

fields

in some places, p l o u g h m e n turning u p the soil in others, a n d h e r e a n d t h e r e villages glittering on c o m m a n d i n g with t h e

ever-present

p a l m waving

a b o v e the loftiest houses.

eminences,

in the a f t e r n o o n

breeze

I t was impossible, with o u r recol-

lections of E g y p t so fresh in our memories, n o t t o b e r e m i n d e d of the c o n t r a s t b e t w e e n t h e two countries

traced

so

many

THE RIDERLESS

HORSE.

53

thousand years before, in a few bold touches, and yet with so much discriminating accuracy, by the p e n of Moses,

when

C a n a a n was still only t h e land of p r o m i s e to t h e Israelites. " T h e land, whither thou goest in to possess it, is not as the land of Egypt, from whence ye c a m e out, where t h o u sowedst thy seed, and wateredst it with thy foot, as a g a r d e n of herbs. But the land, whither ye go to possess it, is a land of hills a n d valleys, a n d d r i n k e t h water of the rain of heaven.

A land

which the L o r d thy G o d careth f o r : the eyes of the L o r d thy G o d are always u p o n it, from t h e b e g i n n i n g of the year even u n t o the end of the y e a r . " But our e n j o y m e n t was suddenly interrupted by seeing the horse which had passed us less t h a n an h o u r before, feeding riderless on the green-sward, a n d its rider lying on the g r o u n d , at n o great distance, motionless, a n d a p p a r e n t l y d e a d .

His

eyes were closed, b l o o d was oozing from his m o u t h , a n d it was only after the repeated application of stimulants that we could discover any signs of r e m a i n i n g life. dreadfully s t u n n e d .

T h e p o o r lad h a d b e e n

But what struck us most was, t h a t although

several natives passed q u i t e n e a r us while we were doing our best to restore him, n o n e of t h e m could b e i n d u c e d to stand and help us.

T h e r e was a glance of curiosity from a safe

distance, and then a " p a s s i n g by on the o t h e r side." like s h a d o w s f r o m t h e great parable.

I t was

I t was impossible

to

guess w h e t h e r they were afraid of b e i n g c o m p l i c a t e d in s o m e way with the accident, or w h e t h e r all h u m a n i t y h a d b e e n driven out of t h e m .

W e were sadly at a loss what to do.

W e could

not leave the m a n alone, p e r h a p s to perish from want of care ; and yet, if we delayed m u c h longer, t h e c h a n c e s were that we should not only b e b e n i g h t e d , b u t should find the c o n v e n t full. At length we saw two m e n a p p r o a c h i n g with a d o n k e y , a n d drew their a t t e n t i o n b y signs to the helpless youth, whose h e a d was meanwhile Giuseppe.

held

gently u p b y

o u r faithful

dragoman,

W e used every measure short of physical force to

PI1ILISTIA

54

IN TIIE

DISTANCE.

m a k e t h e m stop, a n d the sight of m o n e y which we offered then) to " take charges with him," had a wonderful effect in c h a r m i n g their s o m e w h a t dubious h u m a n i t y i n t o action.

T h e half-dead

m a n was placed by us on the b a c k of the d o n k e y , held on by o n e of the natives on either side, a n d b o r n e away to t h e nearest village.

T h e episode did n o t e n c o u r a g e us to a t t e m p t " feats

of noble h o r s e m a n s h i p . " W e had an experience this a f t e r n o o n which was m o r e than o n c e r e p e a t e d in s u b s e q u e n t parts of our t r a v e l s , — t h e mortification of leaving unvisited districts of Biblical interest which were out of t h e c o m m o n

route of visitors.

From

elevated

points in the finely u n d u l a t i n g region t h r o u g h which o u r path now lay, it was possible to look into t h e b o r d e r of t h e Philistines ; b u t every step was m e a n w h i l e b e a r i n g us f u r t h e r away from it.

W e should have liked to w a n d e r for a few days in a

territory whose older m e m o r i e s were so interwoven with the exploits of Samson a n d with the history of the ark of G o d , and to h a v e visited the seats of those five satrapies, and those h o m e s of giants a n d m e n of r e n o w n , whose energy a n d military prowess scarcely s u c c u m b e d before any p o w e r b u t that of D a v i d a n d his mightier son.

W e should have liked especially to visit the

busy m a r k e t of m o d e r n Gaza, with the sturdy i n d e p e n d e n c e of a border city;

a n d to h a v e passed to A s h k e l o n , o n c e

the

proudest city of the lords of the Philistines, a n d now with its ruined walls inclosing ruined houses and tangled g a r d e n s , its lofty theatre a desolation, its c o l u m n s of gray granite that h a d given a look of g r a n d e u r to its formerly busy h a r b o u r lying prostrate and lashed by the i n v a d i n g sea, a n d all for m a n y a past age a b a n d o n e d by every h u m a n being as if it were an accursed t h i n g ; — a n d

in the

two places

to h a v e

seen

the

p r o p h e c y of Zechariah a c c o m p l i s h e d to the letter in b o t h its parts, that " the king should perish from Gaza, a n d A s h k e l o n should not be inhabited."

A n d , b e y o n d this, we should h a v e

liked to verify by personal observation t h e r e m a r k a b l e state-

I.

YDDA.

5.5

ment m a d e to us by an eminent traveller in respect to the average height of the modern inhabitants of Philistia.

It is

understood that the average tallness of a native of Syria or Palestine is five feet eight inches. height of the modern feet?

Philistine

Can it be true that the is considerably above

six

T h i s is a fact fertile in matter for speculation, and

curious in reference to the inhabitants of a land which boasted of its giant races so early as the entrance of the Israelites into Canaan. While we are endeavouring to digest this mortification, our notice is turned to a village towards the north-east, on which the slanting rays of the descending sun are shining brightly, and to which a road had forked off some little time before.

It

is the L y d d a of Scripture, and the Diospolis of J e r o m e and Eusebius as well as later writers. in the times of the Crusaders.

It was great a n d important It is now a very poor village,

embosomed in the midst of rich gardens, whose undying fruitfulness n o neglect can entirely repress.

It is an object of

Christian interest from the fact that it was here that

Peter

cured the palsied Kneas of his long malady of eight years; and that to this place the sorrowing messengers from J o p p a brought the intelligence to the same apostle of the death of Dorcas, which bore him as with winged feet across the

intervening

miles to her death-chamber, and e n d e d in her resurrection to life. It

is interesting

to contemplate together those two early

Christian disciples, who were almost simultaneously the subject of the apostle's miraculous power.

D o e s not the one represent

the service of suffering, and the other the service of action ? We are apt to prefer the working disciple before the patient one enduring in silence. are not in our hands.

I3ut the golden balances of H e a v e n

W h o can tell by which of the two God

was most glorified and Christ best served ? T o Englishmen this little Sharon village has, besides, another

FULLER

56

AND

FABER.

kind of interest, as b e i n g the birth-place, a n d containing in t h e c o r n e r of a half-ruined m o s q u e t h e t o m b , of St. George, t h e tutelar saint of E n g l a n d , whose f a m o u s legend, as t r a m p l i n g o n the dragon, has, after an interval of s o m e reigns, b e e n restored on certain of our English coins.

O l d Fuller lets o u t his wit,

a n d p e r h a p s also s o m e of his wisdom, on this p o p u l a r legend, when h e adverts to t h e c o i n c i d e n c e b e t w e e n it a n d the story of Perseus a n d A n d r o m e d a , of which the neighbouring J o p p a is the scene : " All I will a d d is (I h o p e without offence) this ensuing parallel.

I n J o p p a the valour of P e r s e u s is c e l e b r a t e d

for freeing A n d r o m e d a , d a u g h t e r of K i n g C e p h e u s , tied with chains to the rocks, from the fury of a sea-monster to which she was exposed.

I n L y d d a the puissance of St. G e o r g e is re-

m e m b e r e d for delivering the nameless and only d a u g h t e r of a certain K i n g of L i b y a from a fiery dragon, to w h o m she was tendered

by lot to b e d e v o u r e d .

I t is pity," h e

continues

slyly, " these two stories should b e p a r t e d a s u n d e r , which will b o t h in full latitude b e believed together. nearer, the two places or two reports.

H a r d to say whether H e t h a t considers the

r e s e m b l a n c e of their c o m p l e x i o n s will c o n c l u d e

Fancy

the

father, Credulity the m o t h e r , of b o t h ; t h o u g h we n e e d not presently reject all the story of St. G e o r g e for i m p r o b a b l e circumstances

appendant

fictitious

thereto."

for s o m e

Reland

and

others, in their eagerness to separate the germ of fact f r o m t h e drapery which p o e t r y h a s woven r o u n d it, h a v e g o n e

much

further back, as is well k n o w n , in their speculations, and h a v e t h r o w n out the idea that the story a b o u t A n d r o m e d a a n d P e r s e u s originated

from some

confused account

of J o n a h a n d

the

whale which had r e a c h e d the G r e e k s through sailors of Tarshish. If any o n e will look into the pages of F a b e r , in his " I l o r a j Mosaicas," h e will find that imagination

has played quite as

wildly with s o m e of the traditions of the Deluge. W e were benighted before we r e a c h e d the c o n v e n t gate at Ramleh.

O u r efforts at surgery with the u n h o r s e d rider had

DINNER

AND

PENANCE.

57

delayed us much longer than we had counted on ; but this inconvenience was not to be measured against the satisfaction of having helped to save the life of a fellow-man, w h o m we had found wounded and half dead.

T h e courtyard of the c o n v e n t

was crowded with pilgrims, many of them of a very unpilgrimlike appearance, and representing more than half the nations of

Europe ; and they scanned with staring curiosity the last

arrived.

T h e mules and horses stamping in the court m a d e it

difficult for us even to move.

It was a new thing for us to be

served at dinner by barefooted and tonsured monks, girded with ropes, and as speechless as if they h a d been under a vow of silence. But those travellers are not to be envied who arrive at these houses with a keen appetite, especially when it is late in the evening, and the locusts that have preceded them have dined. W e had a truly lean and lenten fare, which did us in

love

with

ecclesiastical

cookery

not

or monkish

make larders.

T h e r e was a pleasure, however, in thinking that the dronish, monotonous life of these poor men was broken in upon during some weeks of the year by a stream of restless spirits from the outside world.

It is not the first time that we have seen a

monk in some remote n o o k of a hospice like this, devouring a newspaper with more than

the gusto

with which we had

vainly tried on that evening to devour our meagre, ill-cooked dinner. W e wonder whether those m o n k s k e e p a j o u r n a l ; for, if so, they could have recorded that, a few weeks before, in the court of that same convent, a certain rich and amiable Scottish nobleman, the latest and most splendid pervert to R o m a n i s m , might have been seen walking up and down for hours, stripped to the waist and barefooted, evidently performing some severe penance. W e acknowledge to have felt intense mortification at this description, received from a friend and eye-witness : for this penance implied a confessor and a soul-director behind it a l l ; and

THE MIDNIGHT

SKY.

it s e e m e d studiously imposed for the p u r p o s e of b r e a k i n g t h e spirit of a m a n of r a n k a n d e d u c a t i o n into u n q u e s t i o n i n g o b e d i ence, not to Christ, but to the C h u r c h , a n d of c r u s h i n g out of him the last e m b e r s of that holy fire of true P r o t e s t a n t i s m which m a k e s us " c a l l n o m a n M a s t e r u p o n e a r t h . " W e contrived, before turning into o u r stifling dormitory, to walk out into the solitude a n d d a r k n e s s a n d look u p into the midnight sky.

H o w glorious s e e m e d those m a n y m a n s i o n s of

our great F a t h e r ' s h o u s e ! enlarging sight.

It was a purifying, soothing, soul-

T h o s e s o u t h e r n latitudes favour t h e star-gazer,

a n d , as it were, increase a n d b r i g h t e n t h e revelation m a d e by t h e visible h e a v e n s .

N o w o n d e r t h a t such a vision k i n d l e d at

o n c e t h e soul of p o e t r y and devotion in the soul of t h e boyp o e t w a t c h i n g his father's flocks by night u p o n the hill-sides at Bethlehem.

W e h a d stood in the g a r d e n s a r o u n d Geneva, and

looked u p into its evening sky mirroring itself in t h e n o b l e lake beneath.

W e had leaned on o n e of the bridges over the A r n o

at F l o r e n c e , a n d w o n d e r e d at the silvery glory of t h e Italian firmament,— " H c s p a n g l c d w i t h t h o s e isles of l i g h t So wildly, spiritually bright."

But that sky of Palestine has a diviner glory still.

N o t only d o

the o r b s seem far more n u m e r o u s , a n d new constellations b e a m down u p o n you, b u t the whole impression is different.

We

have seen it noticed by s o m e travellers that t h e stars a p p e a r to b e m o r e s e p a r a t e d from the sky, a n d not to b e so m u c h like lights fixed upon a solid p a v e m e n t as like g o l d e n l a m p s s u s p e n d e d from the blue canopy, or floating in ether, u n d e r t h e g u i d a n c e of a h a n d that is invisible, b u t o m n i p o t e n t .

T h i s is true.

And

therefore we could well u n d e r s t a n d h o w mightily such a vision must have helped the faith of A b r a h a m , and given an imperishable distinctness and reality to t h e p r o m i s e when J e h o v a h " b r o u g h t him forth abroad " from his tent at midnight, a n d said, " L o o k now towards heaven, a n d tell the stars if thou b e able to n u m -

IS THIS A RIM ATI IF. A?

59

ber t h e m : a n d H o said u n t o him, So shall thy seed b e . "

The

old h a b i t s of the s t u d e n t c a m e b a c k strongly u p o n us, as we lay a w a k e o n our bed t h a t night, a n d m u s e d on t h e m a n y a n a l o g i e s b e t w e e n all true believers a n d t h o s e lights of h e a v e n .

A n d we

glided g r a d u a l l y into s l e e p over t h e u n s o l v e d q u e s t i o n : " I s this R a m l e h i n d e e d t h e A r i m a t h e a of J o s e p h , the counsellor?"

W e shall see.

honourable

IV. "cHithin

ATIUJ

(Gates,

CO

Jerusalem."

Ramleh in the morning light—Is it th)

¡3

104

0 THE fi CONJE C TURES.

over the place of Christ's sepulchre a temple to the Paphian Venus, how was it that when the E m p r e s s H e l e n a came eagerly searching for the sepulchre, she did not find her information in this circumstance, but was obliged to draw it out by torture, in her own imperial way, from a few u n h a p p y Jews who were ready to purchase their liberty and their lives by an easy falsehood, which the credulous old Empress was even more ready to swallow than they were to invent 1 Let us notice in connection with these reasonings the fact that those travellers who have d o n e so m u c h to cast doubt upon the genuineness of the traditional scene of the resurrec tion, are quite as much at variance with each other in their attempts to associate the all-important event with some other spot.

Dr. Robinson conjectures that it must have been on the

road leading from the D a m a s c u s or the Jaffa g a t e ; more recent travellers give their reasons for preferring an open space outside St. Stephen's-gate, which is to this day a place of burial, and looks down towards Gethsemane.

D o not all these facts

lead to the conclusion that it was the intention of Providence, for the wisest and most beneficent ends, to withhold from us this knowledge ?

H e who " knew what was in man " concealed

the place where he had buried Moses, that the Israelites might not be tempted to turn it into a scene of superstition.

A n d on

the same principle, it appears to have been ordered that the spots on which the most m o m e n t o u s events in the life of Christ occurred, should

be veiled

in uncertainty.

Great

natural

objects in Palestine, such as mountains, and rivers, and lakes, and valleys—the knowledge of which helps to confirm our faith, and to illustrate the Scriptures—are capable of being identified ; but minute objects which would be almost certain, if known, to be abused to purposes of superstition, are left undiscoverable. W e know M o u n t Olivet, but we cannot tell where are the veryspots on the mountain where our R e d e e m e r retired to pray. We can identify I'ethanv, but not with certainty the green-sward

THE LEPERS'

HUTS.

near to it from which Christ a s c e n d e d to heaven.

W e are n o

more able to declare with c o n f i d e n c e where was the t o m b of Christ, than where was the grave of Moses. us off from t e m p t a t i o n s to superstition.

G o d would cut

M o r e o v e r , he would

prevent us from localizing a religion which was designed to b e universal.—from a t t a c h i n g that k i n d a n d m e a s u r e of interest to places which can only properly b e l o n g to t h e facts of which those places were the scene, from materializing the spiritual, a n d from in any degree enchaining, as it were, in a t e m p l e m a d e with h a n d s t h a t religion which is destined to turn the whole earth into a t e m p l e of God. I I o w different from all the g a u d y tinsel and tawdry finery a n d unreality of which we had witnessed so m u c h in that h o u s e of superstition, was the spectacle which we b e h e l d on a following day, when, w a n d e r i n g a little way outside the walls of the city, we c a m e u p o n the dwellings of the l e p e r s !

It is quite n e a r to

Zion-gate, a n d within an arrow-shot of the traditional t o m b of David.

T h e r e was n o terrible reality which we saw in J e r u -

salem equal to this.

T h e place is s e p a r a t e d f r o m all o t h e r

h u m a n habitations, a n d consists of a r u d e court of inclosure, containing a b o u t

twenty miserable huts or kennels.

At t h e

sound of our voices a n d footsteps t h e lepers c a m e o u t into the sunlight, clamouring, with most u n e a r t h l y sounds, for charity. It was a horrid picture that u n h a p p y b a n d , looking as if a triple curse had fallen on them.

D e a t h was visibly eating t h e m away.

S o m e were of a liver colour, o t h e r s white as snow, formed.

-all de-

H a n d l e s s a r m s were held out to u s ; half c o n s u m e d

limbs were o b t r u d e d ; c o u n t e n a n c e s wofully d e f a c e d a n d eyeless were t u r n e d up to u s ; a n d cries c a m e o u t from palateless m o u t h s t h a t were wildly imploring a n d i n h u m a n .

T h e old law

which prohibited the leper from touching or drawing n e a r to a clean person was scrupulously regarded by t h e m , so that, even when they begged, they stretched out to us little iron cups, into which we might d r o p our alms.

T h e r e was n o possibility ot

THE

MOSQUE

OF

OMAR.

resisting the appeals of such wretchedness as this. flections

Various re-

occurred to us as we looked on those rotting wrecks of

our humanity.

We were struck anew with the wisdom of the

Levitical law in its provisions for the isolation and treatment of lepers, being evidently adapted to restrict the disease within the narrowest limits.

W e saw, with deepened impression, with

what instructive fitness leprosy has been employed in Scripture as the emblem of sin—hereditary, contagious, ever tending to increase, and incurable except by the power of God.

And we

bore away from the spectacle a deeper sense of the infinite compassion and divine power of Christ.

O n e look at a leper assures

you that no power but God's can cure such ingrained and malignant disease as this.

But Jesus did it, not disdaining even to

touch with his gentle hand the loathsome sufferer, and sending him away to the temple to give God the praise. But there was one place in Jerusalem which we had yet to visit, " the most sacred spot in the M o h a m m e d a n world next to Mecca, the most beautiful structure for M o h a m m e d a n worship next to C o r d o v a ' ' — t h e M o s q u e of Omar, known in Moslem speech as the " D o m e of the R o c k , " or the " N o b l e Sanctuary." We shall n o t minutely record those accurate measurements 01 its size which are to be found repeated by so m a n y writers, or attempt to play with the phraseology of architecture.

W e shall

be satisfied if, by a few sentences, we succeed in conveying a clear impression of its position and appearance, though every picture that one sees of Jerusalem makes him more or less familiar with it.

O n the summit of M o u n t Moriah, which has

been artificially levelled, there spreads the noble inclosure of the H a r a m , consisting, it is believed, of thirty-five acres more or less.

T h i s inclosure is the most beautifully green of any spot

in or around Jerusalem.

Its beauty is much increased by soli-

tary olives, planes, and cypresses, by graceful fountains, and praying-places exquisitely adorned in the peculiar style of Arabian architecture.

Nearly in the centre of this H a r a m is a raised

VIEW

FROM

THE MOUNT

OF OLIVES.

107

platform, to which entrance is found by four richly-ornamented g a t e w a y s ; and on this platform, with a pavement, in some places of marble and in others of white polished limestone-rock, rests this grand cathedral of the Mohammedan faith.

In shape,

it is an octagon, each side of which measures sixty-seven feet. Its walls, rising in successive storeys to a height of more than a hundred feet, are adorned with variegated marble of elegant and intricate pattern.

A b o v e , there rises a beautiful bulbous-shaped

dome of blue, surmounted by a glittering crescent.

T h e r e is a

gracefulness of proportion and a light airy elegance about it, to which we saw nothing to compare in all the East. our impression even when near it.

T h i s was

But our admiration of the

whole picture was deepened when we afterwards gazed upon it in an afternoon from the distance of the Mount of Olives. Every sound was hushed, and there it seemed to r e s t — " In u n d i s t u r b e d a n d lone s e r e n i t y , I' i n d m g itself a solemn s a n c t u a r y In the p r o f o u n d o f h e a v e n . "

Its beautiful green-sward, dotted and shaded, here and there, with some solitary tree of darker hue, its exquisitely carved marble fountains, its praying-niches and places for reading and meditation, its veiled women in dresses of pure white moving over the scene, and appearing and disappearing like creatures from the spirit-world, its turbaned men bending or laid prostrate in the various acts of Moslem worship, the noble dome of the Mosque rising grandly in the centre of all, and giving back in many-coloured glory the splendours of the western

heaven,

altogether presented one of the most unique pictures in the world. We were admitted to its interior, but it was not equal in furniture or in majestic proportions to the Grand Mosque at Cairo, which we had already seen, or to the Church of St. Sophia at Constantinople, which we were yet to s e e ; and it contained nothing of special interest, unless some of our readers should

IOS

TIIE UNHEWN

ROCK.

find an exception in the m a r k of M o h a m m e d ' s footsteps, or in t h e finger-prints of the angel Gabriel ! I n the south-west corner of the H a r a m

there

is

another

m o s q u e of m u c h smaller dimensions, El Aksa, which is app r o a c h e d f r o m the D o m e of t h e R o c k by a paved f o o t p a t h passing through an a v e n u e of cypress-trees.

Originally a Chris-

tian c h u r c h built in the sixth c e n t u r y b y the E m p e r o r Justinian, it passed into the h a n d s of the followers of the false p r o p h e t at the period of the Saracen c o n q u e s t .

W h e n the C r u s a d e r s con-

quered a n d recovered J e r u s a l e m , it again b e c a m e a Christian church, a n d , designated by t h e m " the T e m p l e of Solomon,' 1 gave its n a m e Templars.

to

those

military

ecclesiastics,

the

Knights

I t would b e m o r e a d m i r e d were it f u r t h e r distant

f r o m the o v e r s h a d o w i n g M o s q u e , which k e e p s it u n d e r per petual eclipse.

It is like a violet growing beside a sun-flower.

I t was not, however, the M o s q u e a n d its a t t e n d a n t

beauty

which gave to this inclosure in our eyes so p r o f o u n d an interest, a n d m a d e us wish to linger on it for h o u r s ; b u t the belief, which there seems n o g o o d reason to dispute, that it really covers the site of the a n c i e n t Jewish T e m p l e , with its a p p u r t e n ances.

T h e t h o u g h t of this m a d e us turn our back u p o n the

M o s q u e , a n d w a n d e r again a n d again in silence over what had o n c e b e e n holy g r o u n d .

A s we sought shelter in the shadow

formed by a venerable cvpress-tree, our a t t e n t i o n was t u r n e d to a mass of u n h e w n rock of great size rising a b o v e t h e surface, a n d which had evidently r e m a i n e d through t h o u s a n d s of years, amid all the signs of h u m a n art a n d exquisite o r n a m e n t everywhere a r o u n d it, u n t o u c h e d a n d u n c h a n g e d . chisel h a d ever fallen u p o n it.

N o mallet or

W h y was this ?

T h e r e must

surely h a v e b e e n s o m e mighty reason for leaving it thus unc h a n g e d , when everything else was c h a n g e d , — r e m a i n i n g to this h o u r the highest n a t u r a l point on M o u n t Moriah.

It seemed

reasonably p r o b a b l e , as s o m e h a v e suggested, that either on this very spot, or n e a r it, A b r a h a m had reared the altar a n d

" IIOL Y

G

R

O

U

N

D

1

0

9

kindled the fire for the sacrifice of Isaac, when his uplifted h a n d was stayed and arrested by t h e angel's voice.

N o r could it b e

far from this that O m a n the J e b u s i t e h a d his threshing-floor, a n d was engaged in threshing w h e a t when the plague was desolating J e r u s a l e m .

"Then

t h e angel of the L o r d c a m e a n d

stood by the threshing-floor, having a drawn sword in his h a n d , stretched over J e r u s a l e m . "

F r o m the hill of Zion on the oppo-

site side, over the Tyropaean Valley, David beheld the vision, and prostrating himself with his elders before the L o r d , h a s t e n e d , u n d e r the direction of the p r o p h e t G a d , to build an altar a n d to offer sacrifices.

" And David bought the threshing-floor for

six h u n d r e d shekels of gold, offered burnt-offerings a n d peaceofferings, and called u p o n the Lord ; a n d the L o r d answered him from heaven by fire u p o n the altar of burnt-offering.

And

the Lord c o m m a n d e d t h e angel, a n d he put u p his sword again into the sheath thereof."

A r o u n d this m e m o r a b l e rock Solomon

afterwards erected his T e m p l e ; and some have v e n t u r e d t h e bold c o n j e c t u r e t h a t on this u n h e w n mass, so rich in sacred m e m o r i e s even then, he reared the altar of burnt-offering.

If

there is any truth in these conjectures, then it rises t o something m o r e than probability that this very inclosure on which we now stood, was t r o d d e n for m a n y a century by t h e feet of prophets a n d m e n of G o d ; a n d that at length it witnessed m a n y of the miracles a n d e c h o e d m a n y of the lessons of the great T e a c h e r himself, as he walked u p o n it followed by g r o u p s of wondering listeners, a n d " s p a k e as never m a n spake."

Few

scenes, therefore, in all the world, cluster with so m a n y hallowed associations.

W e felt that this spot belonged especially, and

by a kind of inalienable right, t o t h e Christian C h u r c h .

And

as we turned round a n d saw the gilded crescent on the t o p of the Mosque, or looked forth a n d b e h e l d the crescent-ensign waving from the T u r k i s h citadel, we cried out in spirit, " H o w long, O Lord, how long !" As we returned from this great scene, a n d looked down to

no

POOLS

OF />/•' THF.SDA

AND

OF II FZFR'IA

H.

the north of the T e m p l e area, we noticed a deep chasm, which, we were told, marked the ruins of the ancient pool of Bethesda. If it be indeed this, how has its glory departed !

Only a few

of the porches can now be traced where the sick were laid, and in one of which Christ healed the impotent man who had been afflicted " f o r thirty and eight years."

T h e r e are n o gurgling

waters now, or descending angel to impart to them healing virtue ; but nettles, and weeds, and rubbish, cover and pollute the hospital in which God himself was the h e a l e r . — T h e pool of Ilezekiah, which we also visited, does credit to this day, after the lapse of more than two thousand years, to the engineering skill and patriotic energy of that pious king whom c o m m e n tators usually describe as pliant and passive, but who was really one of the most active m o n a r c h s that ever sat on the throne of Judah.

I n its uninjured state, that immense reservoir could

have held water for the supply of half Jerusalem.

At this hour

the principal baths of the city are filled from it. W e have now noticed the chief places that were visited by us within the walls.

But there was one place without the walls

to which we m a d e frequent visits during our city wanderings, and which exercised over us, during the whole time of our stay in Jerusalem, an irresistible fascination. to the Garden of Gethsemane. to it.

W e refer, of course,

Let us describe our first visit

Going out of the city by St. Stephen's-gate, we passed

through the midst of a M o h a m m e d a n burying-ground, which comes up almost to the gate.

It was a Moslem holiday, and

multitudes of women and children were sitting at picnics among the t o m b s ; for this people have no sensibility or awe at the neighbourhood

of death.

T h e y are merry and festive with

their dead sleeping a few inches beneath their feet.

N o t many

steps forward brought us to the brow of a precipice ; and looking down a few h u n d r e d yards, we saw, at the foot of that part of Olivet which comes nearest to Jerusalem, the solemn garden stretched out before us.

W e had no inclination now to advert

GETHSEMAKE.

to the fact that the traditional scene of Stephen's m a r t y r d o m was almost at our side. beneath.

O u r eye was rivetted on the one spot

Descending by a winding rocky path, we crossed the

empty channel of the Kidron by a little bridge ; and then, going up a few paces, and knocking at a door in the lofty gray wall by which the garden is surrounded, we were received by one of the m o n k s to whose care the garden is committed. are assiduously cultivated within the sacred

Flowers

inclosure,—the

wild-rose, the passion-flower, with rosemary, wormwood, and other symbolical h e r b s ; b u t those eight old olive-trees, with their enormous girths and fantastically gnarled branches, were really the only objects that we looked upon.

T h e y can be

historically certified as twelve hundred years old ; and as it is one law in the natural life of the olive that it sprouts again after it has been cut down to the level of the ground, on the supposition that this is the real Gethsemane, there is nothing improbable in the imagination that those patriarchal olives may have grown from the very trees which

shaded

the place of our

R e d e e m e r ' s ineffable soul-agony and sweat of blood. the supposition unlikely ? to doubt too much.

And is

It is surely possible on these matters

T h e strong acid of modern criticism some-

times tries to consume real gold.

T h e limits of the original

garden must have been a good deal more extensive; but many things combine to favour the belief that this inclosed portion of Olivet formed a part of it. T h e evangelical narrative distinctly indicates that the place was reached by our Lord and his disciples almost immediately after they had crossed the Kidron ; and the chain of clear, unwavering tradition from the days of Eusebius downwards, links us to the same locality.

A n d there are two facts which

so exactly fit in to this opinion as not a little to confirm us in the belief that this was indeed the veritable garden of the agony. Does it not seem obvious from the Gospel histories, that on the evening of his mysterious soul-conflict, when " it pleased the

THF. TRUE

I I 2

GARDEN.

F a t h e r to bruise h i m , " our L o r d sought for d a r k n e s s as well as silence ?

A n d as it was then full m o o n , this was the o n e place

over which the n e i g h b o u r i n g rocks on t h e J e r u s a l e m side of the K i d r o n gorge would cast a long a n d d e e p shadow, a n d aiding that of the olive-trees, would m a k e the awful r e t i r e m e n t c o m plete.

T h e n , when J e s u s is represented as saying to his disciples

at the e n t r a n c e to the g a r d e n , " A r i s e , let us b e going : see, h e is at h a n d that d o t h b e t r a y m e , " it would a p p e a r

that

his

e x p e c t a n t eye must have seen from that point the exit of J u d a s and his ruffian-band, bearing lanterns a n d torches, from o n e of the eastern gates, or their c o m i n g r o u n d the c o r n e r of the wall ; and it is r e m a r k a b l e that the s a m e view can b e from t h e midst of those aged olives now.

commanded

It was n a t u r a l that

with these convictions we should a b a n d o n ourselves for a time to t h e influence of the retigio loci—the the scene. natured

sacred associations of

W e k e p t ourselves carefully aloof f r o m the good-

m o n k s , with their puerile legends, a n d sitting down

alone, u n d e r what s e e m e d the oldest of the olive-trees, t o o k the evangelist L u k e for o u r only guide. memorable and momentous human redemption.

W e t h o u g h t of that most

of all nights in

the

history of

W e t h o u g h t of the prostrate form of the

Son of G o d , of his " strong crying and tears," of his i n t e n s e soulanguish, of his sweat of blood, of that most glorious t r i u m p h of resignation to the will of his F a t h e r which earth ever witnessed, and of that love to his people, which m a n y waters could not q u e n c h or m a n y floods drown.

W e e n t e r e d into t h e spirit

of those words of the h y m n , — " Go to d a r k G e t h s e m a n c , Ye t h a t feci the T e m p t e r ' s p o w e r ; Y o u r R e d e e m e r ' s conflict see, W a t c l i with him one bitter h o u r : T u r n not from his griefs a w a y ; I.earn of Je>us Christ to p r a y . "

M a n y a time afterwards, we c a m e to the brow of the precipice b e f o r e St. Stephen's-gate, a n d gazed silently down into the garden.

M a y ( i e t h s e m a n e b e green in our m e m o r y for ever !

VII.

Pounb about Jerusalem. The brook K ijron—IIappy scent's ivhett it begins to flo'o—'/>!-l'\\ K i n ^ s i. 9 ] — I ' a t b e y of H innom\t K i n ^ s xi. 7 ] — P r o b a b l e scene of Judas s suicide [ Ai u i. i 3 , 1 9 ] — S e p u l c h r e 0/ David—Plain of Rephaitn—'The Tower and Upper Cihon—A ruined aqueduct—Tourer of David [2 S a m . v. 9—Modern uses—Lively scenes near the Jaffa-gate—Sepulchres of the kings—The siesta—J'revalent conjecture in Jerusalem about the place of the crucifixion—Recent mierder—Road to Anathoth — 'Traditional grotto of Jeremiah—Subterranean quarries—Probable uses [1 K i n y s vi. 7 J — A d v e n t u r e s — S u n s e t from the Mount oj Olives—Gates shut—" Rucksheesh."

V ^ i f i i E d e v o t e this c h a p t e r mainly to o b j e c t s of B i b l i c a l inilVft/li

terest that were visited b y us i m m e d i a t e l y outside the

1

walls of J e r u s a l e m ,

literally

a n d g o i n g round a b o u t h e r a n d

"walking

about

Zion

this, with the e x c e p t i o n 0/

s o m e notices of the e x p l o r a t i o n s of C a p t a i n W a r r e n a n d his intelligent fellow-labourers, shall b e our last c h a p t e r 011 the H o l y City.

W e h a v e the more satisfaction in c o n d u c t i n g

such

a

circuit, that we c o m e into c o n t a c t with a greater n u m b e r oi natural o b j e c t s that can be identified with certainty as h a v i n g sacred m e m o r i e s

hanging

around

t h e m ; a n d that the

struc-

tures of man's erection outside the walls h a v e not so g e n e r a l l y been destroyed b y the plough of human c o n q u e s t , or r e n d e r e d difficult to verify by the w o r s e plough of a too

remorseless

criticism. T h e r e is a bridle-path close to the walls, on which it would

II \

THE BROOK

K1DR0X—HAPPY

SCENES.

b e possible for o n e on the b a c k of a mule to perforin the circuit in a brief s p a c e of t i m e ; b u t t h e r e would b e little benefit from this, b e y o n d a s o m e w h a t rough and u n c o m f o r t a b l e lesson in riding.

If our chief e n d was to b e gained, of s h e d d i n g light

upon the Scriptures a n d m o r e fully a p p r e c i a t i n g Scripture allusions by m e a n s of o b j e c t s that lay o p e n to a little research on every side, it was necessary that we should s p e n d a good part of our time in walking in the d e e p valleys by which t h r e e parts of the city are encircled. W e b e g a n , accordingly, in the c h a n n e l of the b r o o k K i d r o n , and p r o c e e d e d slowly down the valley of J e h o s h a p h a t .

The

c h a n n e l was q u i t e e m p t y , a n d even c o v e r e d with grass, so that in m a n y places it was not easy to trace the b e d of t h e t o r r e n t ; the fact being, that it is dry at this part nine m o n t h s in t h e year, b u t leaping out from its s u b t e r r a n e a n c h a m b e r s at a point a little south of J e r u s a l e m , it flows on in a comparatively narrow stream, d o w n past the C o n v e n t of M a r S a b a to the D e a d Sea. T h e r e have been persons that h a v e spent t h e winter and spring in J e r u s a l e m , who h a v e never seen water in this K i d r o n channel even in t h e rainy m o n t h s , a n d who h a v e therefore raised a d o u b t w h e t h e r its course at this part is n o t uniformly underground.

But those

seasons are e x c e p t i o n a l ; a n d t h e r e

are

o t h e r winters a n d springs in which the torrent courses t h r o u g h the valley with such force a n d volume as to r e n d e r even an a t t e m p t to cross it dangerous.

W h e n the cry is carried through

J e r u s a l e m in a morning, " T h e K i d r o n flows ! " it is heard with universal welcome, for it is a sure sign t h a t t h e h i d d e n fountains b e n e a t h are filled, a n d that there will b e n o scarcity of water d u r i n g all the s u m m e r m o n t h s .

T h e K i d r o n water is

then sold in t h e city like milk, a n d t h o u s a n d s c o m e crowding out from its various gates to k e e p holiday u p o n its b a n k s .

Tur-

b a n e d m e n sit u n d e r the olive-trees and s m o k e

long

tchibouks

their

or gurgling n e r g h i l e s ; white-robed w o m e n

regale

t h e m s e l v e s with fruits a n d s w e e t m e a t s ; children of b o t h sexes

THE gather

flowers

FOUR

MOXUME.XTS.

115

from the torrent's side, and splash in it merrily

with hands and feet at the point where it seems to leap into l i f e ; even the P a s h a with his suite rides along the margin of the sparkling brook as if to inaugurate its new birth, until the narrowing ground

m a k e s progress

d i f f i c u l t ; — a n d the genial

Miss Bremer, who once witnessed such a j o y o u s spectacle, adds this other touching feature to the picture, that even the poor lepers, catching something of the general j o y , c o m e out from their

miserable dwellings, and

sitting on

some

far-off emi-

nence, cry aloud for alms, in the hope that the general gratitude and gladness of the people will bring them a larger meed of charity. W e pass a little way down the gorge, and, on the eastern side of the K i d r o n c o m e upon a cluster of four monuments that at once arrest our attention. of A b s a l o m , of

the martyred

T h e s e are the reputed tombs Zecharias,

of

the g o o d

J e h o s h a p h a t , and of the apostle J a m e s the J u s t .

King

The

most

remarkable of these are the two fust, each of which is a single block sculptured out of the solid rock, and detached from i t ; and the monolith of A b s a l o m with its I o n i c pilasters, its gracefully ornamented frieze, and its conically-shaped summit expanding at the top into a (lower, is an elegant and erection.

striking

T h e r e are strong historical and architectural reasons

for calling in question the authenticity of every one of these monuments.

T h e explicit statement of Scripture that the ashes

of K i n g J e h o s h a p h a t were laid with honour in the royal sepulchres in the city of D a v i d , is dead against the notion that this is his tomb.

What probability is there that such an elaborate

and unique structure would be permitted to be erected to one like Zecharias, who, though he was a true martyr, at the time of his death had power and popular feeling running him?

against

A n d can this valley of the K i d r o n be the " K i n g ' s d a l e "

in which A b s a l o m erected his pillar, to perpetuate his name, when he knew that he should have no posterity ? 9

A t the same

116

THE

VA L L /•: V OF JEIIOSIIA

PI!A T.

time, the architectural style of these i m p o s i n g structures carries us s o m e centuries b a c k b e y o n d the Christian era.

A n archaeo-

logist of E u r o p e a n reputation, w h o was of our p a r l y in this a n d m a n y other excursions, a f t e r e x a m i n i n g the exterior of all these piles, a n d c r e e p i n g through an aperture into o n e of them, where he h a d to c l e a r his w a y with a long-pointed stick from centip e d e s a n d other horrid reptiles, fixed their d a t e at a b o u t 2 0 0 y e a r s n.c.

B u t even this d a t e m a k e s them very old ; a n d though

the o c c a s i o n of their erection r e m a i n s u n k n o w n , we h a v e entire s y m p a t h y with the o b s e r v a t i o n of our shrewd a n d

learned

friend, the a u t h o r of " T h e L a n d a n d the H o o k , " that the simple fact that they must h a v e b e e n s t a n d i n g very m u c h as they n o w a p p e a r w h e n our

L o r d w a s on

the earth, a n d that he must

often h a v e l o o k e d on them a n d s p o k e n of them, invests

them

with a special a n d s a c r e d interest. A s both J e w s and M o h a m m e d a n s firmly b e l i e v e that this is the actual A b s a l o m ' s pillar, they are a c c u s t o m e d , w h e n e v e r they pass it, to cast a stone at it as a testimony against filial disobedience, and to teach their children to d o the s a m e ; the conseq u e n c e of which broken

is, that h e a p s of stones are g a t h e r e d in a

p l a c e n e a r its summit, a n d

a m u c h greater

number

which had either r e b o u n d e d or m i s s e d the aperture, are scattered around its base.

A f t e r all, is it not one principal use of

m o n u m e n t s to e x p r e s s a n d p e r p e t u a t e p u b l i c sentiment i are not a s h a m e d

We

to record that w e a d d e d our stone to the

heap. O u r eye w a s next attracted to i n n u m e r a b l e white slabs that s e e m e d to p a v e the side of O l i v e t a g o o d w a y a b o v e a n d a r o u n d these m o n u m e n t s ; a n d on passing a m o n g them, w e f o u n d that they m a r k e d the g r o u n d which, for m a n y a c e n t u r y , h a d the principal and f a v o u r i t e b u r y i n g - p l a c e of the J e w s .

been

Believ-

ing, as e v e r y J e w d o c s , that the valley of J e h o s h a p h a t b e n e a t h is to be the scene of the resurrection a n d of the g e n e r a l j u d g ment, and

that those w h o are b u r i e d in other p l a c e s

must

UGI.Y

117

ADVEX1UKE.

s o m e h o w pass u n d e r g r o u n d in o r d e r to reach this scene of universal gathering, they prefer this as their last resting-place a b o v e all others, in order that they m a y e s c a p e t h e u n p l e a s a n t ordeal of s u b t e r r a n e a n travel, a n d be the first to welcome their heavenly King.

It is said that they are obliged to pay a large sum for

the privilege of being buried here.

W e were even assured that

i n t e r m e n t was not allowed to the p o o r J e w until after s u n s e t , — " I!y (lie glimmering moonl.caiu'.N tliuky light, Or the lantern dimly burning." T h e g r e a t e r n u m b e r of the graves, which are very shallow, are d u g p e r p e n d i c u l a r l y in the e a r t h ; a g o o d m a n y are hollowed slant-wise out of the r o c k ;

b u t a slab of limestone

polished uniformly indicates t h e

simple

slightly

sleeping-place.

We

spent s o m e time in w a n d e r i n g a m o n g t h o s e graves, a n d deciphering the old H e b r e w inscriptions, which generally told little more than the n a m e a n d age of t h e deceased.

W e did not

meet with a single J e w in all that wide-stretching

cemetery

looking over u p o n the site of the a n c i e n t T e m p l e , where the old worship h a d so long b e e n d e a d t o o ; a n d we had learned by this time easily to distinguish the c o m m o n J e w , n o t only by his indestructible typical features, b u t by his usual dress of thick fur cap, and light, loose, flowing robe, and his o n e corkscrew curl c o m i n g clown on o n e side of his face, a n d d e d u c t i n g s o m e w h a t from its look of manliness. from our reverie b y a n o t h e r presence.

But we were a w a k e n e d T w o or t h r e e

stones,

thrown with m u c h force, alighted u n p l e a s a n t l y n e a r u s ; and in looking in the direction in which they had come, we saw a man, almost q u i t e n a k e d , a n d evidently a maniac, angrily away.

skulking

H e had b e e n dwelling in o n e of the e m p t y rock-

tombs, a n d we h a d disturbed him in his ghastly cell.

It was

impossible not to b e r e m i n d e d of the d e m o n i a c long ago a m o n g the rock-graves of G a d a r a . D e s c e n d i n g again into the valley a n d skirting along the base of M o u n t Moriah, we c a m e in less than a q u a r t e r of an h o u r to

I'll J , AGE

OF SI LOAM.

a large pool of water, known in these days as the " Fountain of the Virgin."

I t is reached by two flights o f steps c o n s i d e r a b l y

below the ground-level, and is evidently fed, through a subterranean passage, from aqueducts or fountains far b a c k in the T e m p l e - m o u n t ; and, like the classic fountain o f Y a u c l u s e , it has this peculiarity on which no research or s c i e n c e has yet shed satisfactory light, that it e b b s and flows like a tide, though the periods o f its

fluctuation

are irregular.

A s it has not been

identified with any o f the fountains n a m e d only lingered

for a few m o m e n t s

in Scripture, we

on its margin, to see

the

people filling their quaint pitchers and goat-skin p o u c h e s from it, which they were doing in c o n s i d e r a b l e numbers. But the cluster of houses, somewhat further down, and on the opposite side o f the ravine, presented m o r e to interest us.

It

was the village o f Siloam, situated a little way up the steep rocky side

o f the

southern

extremity of Olivet, called

the

" M o u n t o f Offence, - ' because here S o l o m o n , in the latter and inglorious years o f his reign, gave way to idolatrous practices, " building a high place for Chemo.sh, the a b o m i n a t i o n o f M o a b , and for M o l o c h , the a b o m i n a t i o n o f the children o f A m n i o n , " " Oil thai opprobrious h i l l , — Audacious neighbourhood."

O n c e it must have been a place o f s o m e i m p o r t a n c e , a kind o f fashionable suburban v i l l a g e ;

for Pharaoh's daughter and

S o l o m o n ' s queen had a palace here.

E v e n in our Lord's times

we c o n c l u d e that it must have c o n t a i n e d large and imposing public b u i l d i n g s ; for it was here that that tower o f Siloam fell by which eighteen persons p e r i s h e d , — a n event which was reported to our L o r d as the news of the day, and on which he suspended great religious lessons and moral warnings for all times.

B u t it is now a miserable and confused collection of

huts, inhabited by half-savage Bedouins, who live for the most part on

plunder,

and

help

around J e r u s a l e m unsafe.

to

m a k e all the

neighbourhood

EEDOU/A'

MA IDEXS—DOMESTIC

HAXD-MIIL.

11 9

We clambered up to it with s o m e difficulty ; and with more difficulty we picked our way in the midst of noisome heaps and of

ugly

mongrel

dogs

which

resented

our

intrusion.

The

weather had b e c o m e hot, and many of the villagers had already migrated, according sepulchres summer

in

the

to

their custom,

neighbourhood,

residence.

But

it was

to

the

which

not yet

empty

were a

cave-

to be

deserted

their

village.

Listening, we heard a sound from one of the houses, which we guessed to be that of a hand-mill on which corn was being ground

for the

afternoon's meal.

W e entered, after h a v i n g

used the ceremony of k n o c k i n g more than once, and found a young woman seated on the earthen floor, and busily at work with her mill.

She showed

no sign of alarm at the rather

sudden apparition ; but interpreting our wishes, took off the upper circular stone, s h o w e d us the iron pivot in the lower stone on which it revolved, and also the hollow slant by which the meal escaped after it was ground.

A s we were e x a m i n i n g

it, and remarking to our friends on its close resemblance to the H i g h l a n d querns preserved in some of our antiquarian museums at

home, a second

opposite

girl

entered, and sitting

down

side, and laying hold of the well-worn

0:1

the

handle, the

little mill went round more rapidly and merrily than ever.

We

were struck with the attention to ornament which these y o u n g Bedouin women showed in their very humble spheres.

Their

arms were tattooed in various places, their nails were d y e d red, and each bore upon her wrist what seemed a thin bracelet of silver, evidently old and worn, the cherished heirloom of m a n y a Bedouin generation.

But what struck us most of all was the

fact that this grinding at the mill was still the work of females, as in the times of C h r i s t ; and that on the slopes of that same mountain on which a mile distant, H e

this

village

nestled, p r o b a b l y

not

half

had spoken those prophetic words, when

seeking to give his disciples a vivid impression of the suddenness of the destruction that was to break upon J e r u s a l e m when

120

I-OUXTAIN

AND POOL OF SII.OAM.

her h o u r h a d come, " T w o w o m e n shall b e grinding at the m i l l ; t h e o n e shall be t a k e n , and the o t h e r left." T h i s was the village of Siloam, b u t where were the fountain and the pool called by the s a m e n a m e ?

There, further down

in the valley, at the base of O p h e l a n d at the m o u t h of the Tyropoean, where it begins to divide b e t w e e n M o u n t s Zion a n d Moriah.

L e t us pilot our way down to t h e m along that slant-

ing path.

T h e f o u n t a i n c o m e s (lowing softly and silently out

from b e n e a t h a rock that rises precipitously fifty feet a b o v e your h e a d , — i t s waters clear as crystal, a n d deliciously cool. J o s e p h u s e n a b l e s us to assure ourselves that it is t h e actual streamlet of which Isaiah speaks, as " the waters of Shiloah that g o s o f t l y ; " a n d c o m i n g forth as it a p p e a r s to d o from beneath

t h e rocky m o u n t a i n on which

the Jewish

Temple

stood, our great Milton is n o t less graphically a c c u r a t e when lie sings of it as " Siloah's brook that flowed Fast by ihc oracle of God. " I n d e e d , we might claim for Milton what the D e a n of W e s t minster has with just a d m i r a t i o n claimed for K e b l e , t h e wonderful power of accurately representing, even in the m i n u t e r lines of form a n d more delicate colours, the image of s c e n e s on which their bodily eyes h a d never looked.

I t would b e possible

to p r o d u c e lines anil e p i t h e t s as felicitous in this respect from the " P a r a d i s e R e g a i n e d " as from the " Christian Y e a r . " I t h a d long b e e n u n d e r s t o o d that a zigzag t u n n e l c o n n e c t e d the waters that supplied this Siloam stream with the " F o u n t a i n of the Virgin," a n d o n e fruit of C a p t a i n W a r r e n ' s e x p l o r a t i o n s has been to place this b e y o n d all d o u b t . actual fountain

of

which

the

beautiful

h a n d e d down from earliest Christian

T h i s then is the tradition

has

times, that during

been the

seven days of the " F e a s t of T a b e r n a c l e s , " a procession of priests c o m i n g out from J e r u s a l e m every m o r n i n g with a golden pitcher, and filling it with water from this living rill, carried it

THE A'/.YC'S

I2I

GARDENS—EX-ROGEL.

amid t h e music of t r u m p e t s and c y m b a l s , of psalteries a n d harps, and p o u r e d it upon t h e sacrifice in the T e m p l e .

Ad-

vancing a few paces inwards, we c o m e to a pool in which the waters are g a t h e r e d before e m e r g i n g from t h e r o c k into the sunlight, and to which the blind Gospel was c o m m a n d e d

man

s p o k e n of in

John's

by Jesus, a f t e r h e had a n o i n t e d

his

eyes with the clay, to " go a n d wash, t h a t h e might receive his sight."

W e can imagine him led down that flight of r o c k y

steps by t h e h a n d of s o m e little boy ; b u t he would n e e d n o h a n d to guide him as h e went b a c k again to the city with restored vision a n d a d o r i n g gratitude. W h e n the stream h a d flowed s o m e yards out from t h e rock, we saw n u m b e r s

of women from t h e

neighbouring

washing clothes in the pure rocky c h a n n e l .

Siloam

T h e n c e it flowed

to a singularly fertile spot called " the K i n g ' s G a r d e n s , " where, divided into a t h o u s a n d irrigating rills, it gave life a n d vigour to n u m e r o u s fruit-trees, vegetables, and flowers, r e n d e r i n g this the most p r o d u c t i v e spot in t h e n e i g h b o u r h o o d of J e r u s a l e m . Were these g a r d e n s in a n y way c o n n e c t e d , in the palmy days of Jewish history, with the p a l a c e of S o l o m o n ' s q u e e n in that Siloam n e a r at h a n d ?

Is it even e x t r a v a g a n t to c o n j e c t u r e

that in their g r a c e f u l beauty, when art put forth all its strength a n d skill to help nature, these gardens, in their inclosed retirem e n t a n d e x u b e r a n t E a s t e r n a b u n d a n c e , m a y have supplied to the royal p o e t s o m e of the g o r g e o u s imagery in t h e S o n g of Songs ? W e now a p p r o a c h the point at which the valley of I i i n n o m , which forms the southern

b o u n d a r y of J e r u s a l e m ,

intersects

the valley o f J e h o s h a p h a t ; a n d not far from this p o i n t , we turn aside to a n o t h e r fountain of extraordinary d e p t h , the of Old T e s t a m e n t history, or Well of J o a b .

l

'Kn-rogel"

T h e r e seems no

good reason to d o u b t that it m a r k s the s c e n e where A d o n i j a h was ripening his conspiracy a n d h o l d i n g high festival with J o a b and the other leaders of his rebel faction, when

they were

12 2

I/LWYOM.

s t a r t l e d by t h e loud s h o u t of t h e loyal m u l t i t u d e in t h e neighb o u r i n g city, easily h e a r d at this d i s t a n c e , which f o l l o w e d t h e proclamation

of S o l o m o n as king, a n d

in a m o m e n t

turned

t h e i r a m b i t i o u s h o p e s to t e r r o r a n d d e s p a i r . I t is r e m a r k a b l e to w h a t a n e x t e n t this valley of

Ilinnom

w h i c h we a r e n o w a s c e n d i n g , is a s s o c i a t e d with s o m e of t h e d a r k e s t a n d m o s t r e v o l t i n g p a s s a g e s in t h e history of t h e J e w s . I n s o m e p a r t of it, u n d e r t h e i d o l a t r o u s k i n g s of J u d a h , t h e foul a n d cruel w o r s h i p i n f a n t s were p l a c e d

of M o l o c h was m a i n t a i n e d , in which

in t h e r e d - h o t a r m s of t h e idol, a n d

the

s h r i e k s of t h e little victims w e r e d r o w n e d by t h e b e a t i n g of d r u m s a n d c y m b a l s , a n d by t h e s h o u t s of m a d d e n e d w o r s h i p p e r s . A n d c e r t a i n l y t h e r e w e r e p o r t i o n s of t h e valley w h i c h a p p e a r e d , as we s t o o d a n d

looked

on

them, to have

been

scenically

a d a p t e d for s u c h i n f e r n a l orgies, j u s t as a p a i n t e r of o u r o w n t i m e s would c h o o s e s o m e wild m o o r for t h e s c e n e of a m u r d e r or a witches' d a n c e . never

penetrated,

which s e e m e d barrenness.

G l o o m y recesses, i n t o w h i c h t h e s u n l i g h t with

blackened

to b e a r o n

them

cliffs, a n d

beetling

t h e c u r s e of a n

crags

everlasting

W e r e c o l l e c t t h a t o n e traveller, w a n d e r i n g a l o n e

in this p a r t of H i n n o m , w a s so d e p r e s s e d b y t h e m e r e s c e n i c i n f l u e n c e of t h e s p o t , t h a t h e w a s g l a d to e s c a p e f r o m it b a c k to t h e city, a n d t o listen a g a i n to t h e s o u n d of h u m a n voices. I I o w fitting it was t h a t , in t h e b e t t e r t i m e s of J e w i s h history, this a c c u r s e d s p o t , b e a r i n g u p o n it t h e d e e p e s t s t a i n s of h u m a n wickedness, was chosen

as t h e p l a c e i n t o w h i c h all t h e offal

a n d a b o m i n a t i o n s of J e r u s a l e m w e r e cast, to b e c o n s u m e d b y ever-gnawing worms,

or

destroyed

smoking and burning day and

by

night.

fires

that

were

kept

And

c a n we w o n d e r

t h a t it c a m e to b e s p o k e n of b y t h e old p r o p h e t s , a n d by o u r Lord

himself, as t h e very t y p e a n d

s h a d o w of t h e p l a c e of

t o r m e n t , " w h e r e their w o r m d i e t h n o t , a n d t h e i r fire is n o t quenched !" " Tujihet lhcr.ee Ami black Gehenna caHcJ, the lype of hell."

A CF.LDAMA. W e still pass on through a kind of c h a m b e r of horrors, or valley of the shadow of death.

F o r on our left there rises an

eminence marked along its sides by y a w n i n g cavities, which were once elaborately formed tombs, but which now only afford an occasional shelter for shepherds with their little flocks, when they would e s c a p e the storm, or shelter themselves from the glare and fire of the noon-day sun.

I t is n a m e d the '' Hill of

E v i l C o u n s e l , " from the tradition that the house of C a i a p h a s the high priest stood on it, and that it was the place where the priests and rulers conspired to destroy J e s u s , and where J u d a s entered with them into his guilty pact of blood.

S o m e scraggy

olives overhang a precipitous part of this hill, and one of them is pointed out as the actual tree from which the traitor hanged himself.

T h i s is a g o o d deal too circumstantial.

But suppos-

ing this part of H i n n o m to h a v e been the scene of the suicide, it fits in exactly to the narrative in the A c t s .

T h e r e are places

with overhanging trees of various kinds, at which the rugged rock rises sheer up to forty or fifty f e e t ; and supposing an individual to be suspended by the neck from a branch of one 01 those trees, there is nothing improbable in the branch breaking, in his falling b o d y being torn by some j a g g e d projecting stone as he descended, and in his being dashed to pieces by the hard rock at the bottom.

T h e potter's field, which was purchased

with the thirty pieces of silver, is shown on the same eminence. We found its soil to be clayey as we w a l k e d over i t ; and if you ask any potter in J e r u s a l e m where he finds his material, it is ten to one that he will direct you to this very A c e l d a m a . W e were now under strong temptation to diverge f r o m the lower line of the valley, and, ascending M o u n t Zion on our right, to visit a little mosque near the highest point of the mountain outside the city walls, which is said, with the cluster of buildings around it, to cover the sepulchre of D a v i d and his most illustrious successors on the throne of J u d a h .

But we had

looked on it once already ; and we found it so guarded

by

124

GUION.

M o h a m m e d a n jealousy, that we seemed almost grudged a look. W e should have run the hazard of being torn to pieces, had we attempted an entrance.

W h e n will our brave explorers find

access to those royal graves?

P r o b a b l y not until the Crescent

ensign has been taken down from yon neighbouring citadel for ever. W e continued our course in the bottom of the valley, which now expanding into fertile fields and little knots of trees, began to verify Milton's words, which up to this point had sounded strangely i n a p p l i c a b l e : " t h e pleasant vale of I i i n n o m . "

We

could see on our left the verdant plain of R e p h a i m , the scene and prize of many an ancient c o n f l i c t ; while on our right Zion, bearing on its sides little strips of brairded corn, towered aloft as the natural acropolis of the sacred city.

W e came u p o n

the ruins of the Lower Gihon, formerly an i m m e n s e reservoir or artificial lake for supplying Jerusalem with water, but whose bottom was now grown all over with grass, on which donkeys and mules were quietly feeding.

T h e U p p e r Gihon is of larger

proportions, and a good deal further from the city ; but it has not been rendered quite useless even by the neglect of thousands of years ; for it contained several feet of w a t e r ; and some were bathing in it, and others leading down animals to drink.

Soon

after, we crossed the road leading from the Jaffa-gate to Bethlehem, and passed some straggling pillars of that princely aqueduct by which water had been conducted, in the days of the Kings, from Solomon's pools beyond Bethlehem to Jerusalem ; and after a few minutes more of hard and weary climbing, we were standing and looking in at the Jaffa-gate. Look at that black old weather-beaten tower on your right h a n d , very near its entrance. objects in all Jerusalem.

It is one of the most interesting

T h e houses around, and even the

old walls of the city on which its shadow falls, appear quite m o d e r n beside it.

We believe it to be the tower H i p p i c u s of

I l e r o d ; in which case it is one of the four structures which

TOWER

OF

DAVID.

Titus caused to be left untouched when he reduced every part of Jerusalem to ruins, in order to give those who might visit what was once Jerusalem, some notion of the strength of the city which he had taken and destroyed.

But then H e r o d did

not raise this tower from its foundations, but upon a portion of the old tower of D a v i d — t h e strong fortress with which the valiant king guarded and strengthened himself when, with the help of J o a b , he had at length wrested this part of -Mount Zion from the Jebusites, and m a d e it the impregnable stronghold of his capital.

T h e lower portion of the structure is evidently

much older than the r e s t ; it belongs to a n o t h e r style of masonry, and is probably the oldest structure in J e r u s a l e m — older even than the foundations of the T e m p l e .

It carries our

thoughts away back almost to the beginnings of the H e b r e w monarchy.

David's mighty m e n

have leaned

stones, and gone their sentinel rounds a b o u t them.

upon

those

From the

massive summits of that tower, when it stood in its entireness and strength, H e z e k i a h ' s chiefs have watched the m o v e m e n t s of Sennacherib's

splendid

hosts.

T h e shadow of Jesus

of

Nazareth has often fallen on it, as lie passed by. Even to this day, this old tower of David is not without its uses.

C a n n o n s are fired from it at the first glimpse of every

new moon, and also at sunset during the M o h a m m e d a n fast of R a m a z a n , to let the faithful know that they have now permission to break their long day's fast, and to recover their good temper, with which, it is said, hunger makes sad havoc. But we must keep outside the gate, which is the busiest of all the entrances to Jerusalem.

Looking out upon t h e rising

ground which stretches away to the north of it, we behold a lively picture. people—the

T h a t is the favourite pleasure-ground of the public park and p r o m e n a d e

of J e r u s a l e m ; for

even this melancholy city does not all sit in sackcloth.

Chil-

dren and youths are riding on swings stretched from tree to tree.

At different spots on the green grass are groups of Mos-

r 26 lem

/ / VUL Y SCEA'ESwomen,

white

THE J A/EI

draperied,

and

• GA TE.

somewhat

transparently

veiled, who have c o m e out to sun themselves in the

bright

April afternoon, and beneath that intensely blue canopy of sky. T h e y are surrounded by children, and served by dark-visaged female slaves.

A little lamb, which has evidently been domes-

ticated, forms part of almost every group, and is a great favourite with the children, exceeding even them in its merry gambols. T h e y have brought basket-loads o f provisions, and confections in a b u n d a n c e ; and overtopping all are those big golden oranges from the gardens o f J o p p a , carrying a little well of nectar in each of them. T h e r e is no deep valley now until we reach the Damascusgate ; and as we move onward, there are many tokens, in ruined cisterns and the foundations o f old houses, that, in the clays of Jerusalem's prosperity, the city must have extended in this direction a long way beyond the existing walls.

W e are aware that

some interesting remains, called " the Sepulchres o f the Kings,'' are about a mile to the northward.

W e have heard of the exqui-

site friezes that adorn their entrance, with the beautifully carved flowers and grapes, and other devices ; and we would willingly go, and " with torch in hand " explore those royal receptacles of the dead.

But we are thoroughly fatigued ; and as we wish

to accomplish our circuit of Jerusalem to-day, we must meanwhile go and invite rest.

Besides, we know that these are not

the sepulchres o f the kings of B i b l e story.

And here is the

Damascus-gate, where you cross the northern road to Sychar and the far-distant Damascus.

W e enter, and pass through the

bazaar of the M o h a m m e d a n quarter, with its little heaps of t o b a c c o , and coffee, and dried fruits; and in a few minutes are

asleep in

our quiet,

scrupulously

clean,

earthen-floored

chamber. Within an hour and a half we were again on our f e e t ; for there was one part o f the circuit of the wall—that extending Irom St. Stephen's to the Damascus-gate—which we had yet to

SUPPOSED

SCEXE

OP THE

CRUCIEIXOW

a c c o m p l i s h , a n d this m u s t b e d o n e b e f o r e sunset. b y the f o r m e r g a t e , w e n o w t u r n e d

127

P a s s i n g out

our face eastward

up

the

K i d r o n , or J e h o s h a p h a t v a l l e y , k e e p i n g g e n e r a l l y in t h e b r i d l e p a t h n e a r t h e wall.

T h e r e is h e r e a r a t h e r e x t e n s i v e a n d l e v e l

space of ground between the wall and the w e f o u n d s o m e o f the m i s s i o n a r i e s longest

resident

in J e r u s a l e m ,

and

fixing

Kidron gorge;

savans w h o had upon

this

as

G o l g o t h a , w h e r e the L o r d o f G l o r y w a s c r u c i f i e d .

a s it

been

the

real

Supposing

the w a l l t o h a v e b e e n c a r r i e d in t h e s a m e c o u r s e in o u r times

and

is n o w , t h e c o n j e c t u r e a p p e a r s far f r o m

Lord's

unlikely.

T h e r e w a s r o o m e n o u g h n o t o n l y for t h e t h r e e c r o s s e s , b u t for the c r o w d i n g m u l t i t u d e , a n d for all the h o r r i d a g e n c i e s a n d acc o m p a n i m e n t s o f c r u c i f i x i o n ; a n d the p r i e s t s c o u l d , in this c a s e , h a v e c o m e out f r o m the n e i g h b o u r i n g malice on the d y i n g agonies, until

temple and

the s u p e r n a t u r a l

d r e w its a w f u l c u r t a i n o v e r t h e s c e n e . Olivet

across

the narrow

gorge

darkness

I n this c a s e , a l s o , that

would

echo

S u f f e r e r ' s d y i n g s h o u t o f v i c t o r y , " I t is f i n i s h e d ! W e understood

f e a s t e d their

back

the

great

It is f i n i s h e d ! "

that the p r i n c i p a l o b j e c t o f interest in this

s e c t i o n o f t h e c i t y w a l l w a s the r e m a r k a b l y e x t e n s i v e q u a r r y to which

there

was access

from

some

part

of

it ; a n d

as

e n t r a n c e w a s k n o w n b y us t o b e n a r r o w , a n d w e h a d

the

neither

g u i d e n o r g u i d e - b o o k to h e l p us in the s e a r c h , w e h a d n o little d i f f i c u l t y in d i s c o v e r i n g it.

We

r e c o l l e c t t h a t at o n e p o i n t

in

o u r p r o g r e s s , o n p u t t i n g a s i d e s o m e r a n k grass, w e c a m e u p o n an a p p a r e n t o p e n i n g in t h e wall o n a l e v e l w i t h t h e w h i c h w e at o n c e c o n j e c t u r e d m u s t b e t h e e n t r a n c e .

ground,

W h a t was

our h o r r o r to find, i n s t e a d , the d e a d b o d y o f a m a n w h o h a d evidently been

murdered

not long b e f o r e , — t h e murderer

not

h a v i n g h a d t i m e to b u r y his v i c t i m , a d o p t i n g , in his h a s t e fear, this r e a d i e s t

method

of

concealment !

Was

this

poor benighted traveller, w h o s e steps the stealthy B e d o u i n

or

some had

t r a c k e d a l m o s t to the v e r y g a t e s , a n d t h e n rifled a n d slain h i m i In o u r o w n c o u n t r y , o u r i m m e d i a t e c o u r s e w o u l d h a v e b e e n to

123

sun y 7-:A'Á',! .VEA X Q UA RRIES.

inform the public authorities; and it was with s o m e reluctance that w e did violence to our English instincts, and resolved to do nothing.

W e should certainly have failed, had we inter-

fered, to arouse the T u r k i s h authorities to energetic inquiry ; or if we had succeeded in stimulating s o m e s p a s m o d i c action about a matter so c o m m o n , we and our friends would been complicated with the tragedy.

have

It was easier to determine

thus, than to rid our imaginations afterwards of the stiff and blood-stained picture. M o v i n g on again, and looking far down into the valley with its dark through

olive-gardens,

we could distinctly

trace

a

pathway

them, which we knew to mark the road to " poor

A n a t h o t h , " the birth-place of J e r e m i a h the prophet.

A n d as

we began to turn round gradually towards the north, there was pointed out to us on the other side the traditional grotto or c a v e where that tenderest of the prophets, " whose eyes were as a fountain of tears," is said

to have penned

his

Lamen-

tations. But where, we had begun impatiently to ask, was the opening into those underground quarries, which were affirmed by those who had in some degree explored them, to undermine nearly the whole of J e r u s a l e m ?

B e h i n d an enormous heap of rubbish,

almost within sight of the Damascus-gate, we at last alight on the true entrance ; and, b a c k i n g in on all fours and with

some

difficulty, we d r o p down some two or three feet on an equally vast hill of debris within.

W e h a v e brought some lucifer-matches

with u s ; and having lighted our candles, and affixed the end of a line of cord to a stone near the entrance, we gradually unwind it as we proceed i n w a r d — f o r we m a y chance to lose our reckonings in the windings of the labyrinth, and a hold of this will help us to find our way out.

A n d now, when we h a v e got down to

the level, what a spectacle

opens up before us as our eyes

b e c o m e accustomed to the dim light!

A subterranean quarry

stretches a w a y interminably before u s — m a n y h a v e said even to

SPIRITUAL

ANALOG

129

Y.

the distance of the T e m p l e area — while u n e x p l o r e d

labyrinths

spread into the u n b r o k e n darkness on either side.

A t some-

what irregular distances, rough massive pillars h a v e b e e n left standing to support the natural roof, which rises b e t w e e n thirty and forty feet a b o v e our h e a d s — s u c h

as m a y b e seen in our

salt or c o a l mines at h o m e ; and b e t w e e n these the n u m b e r o f stones which h a v e been e x c a v a t e d , if h e a p e d together, w o u l d be sufficient to build a s e c o n d metropolis. notice

how, in some

instances,

immense

It is curious to blocks have

been

partly separated from the rock, and e v e n shaped, but the process never c o m p l e t e d . the mason had been

T h e r e is e v i d e n c e on every side that here with

his h e w i n g instruments and

polishing tools, as well as the quarryman, and that in countless instances the stones must h a v e been carried forth all fashioned and prepared for their appointed place in the building. chips, that would b e sufiicient to load ten thousand

Minute waggons,

lie in heaps on every side, such as we are familiar with in the masons'-sheds at home.

Surely there is n o improbability in the

c o n j e c t u r e that this was one of the principal quarries that supplied the material for S o l o m o n ' s T e m p l e ; and that in those numerous recesses, lighted b y openings from a b o v e , those stones were polished

and prepared

by cunning

hands, w h i c h

were

afterwards to be silently laid in their predestined place in the sacred house, where " NTo h a m m e r s f e l l , n o p o n d e r o u s a x e s r u n g ; I . i k e s o m e tall p a l m t h e m y s t i c f a b r i c s p r u n g . "

" F o r the house when it was in building was built of

stone

made ready before it was brought t h i t h e r ; so that there

was

neither h a m m e r nor axe, nor any tool o f iron heard in the house when it was in b u i l d i n g . " which the fact suggests heavenly Church.

in

L e t us w e l c o m e the a n a l o g y

reference

to

the

temple

of

Its living stones must all be polished

beautified, on the earth b e n e a t h , b y the g r a c e of the

the and

Divine

Spirit and the discipline of P r o v i d e n c e , ere the g o o d angels bear

SL'XSET

FROM

THE MOUXT

OF

OLIVES.

t h e m u p , a n d t h e y a r e laid b y t h e h a n d s of t h e g r e a t B u i l d e r in t h e i r o w n c h o s e n p l a c e in t h a t h o u s e in w h i c h e v e r y s t o n e is a r e d e e m e d soul. T h e r e a r e h i n t s in J o s e p h u s w h i c h f a v o u r t h e s u g g e s t i o n t h a t this s u b t e r r a n e a n

d e s e r t s e r v e d a n o t h e r use in t h e l a t e r

times

of J e w i s h h i s t o r y , a n d b e c a m e t h e last d e s p e r a t e p l a c e of r e f u g e for t h o u s a n d s of J e w s d u r i n g t h e c l o s i n g d a y s of t h e siege of Jerusalem by Titus.

C o u l d t h o s e s t o n e s s p e a k o u t of t h e r o c k ,

w h a t tales c o u l d t h e y tell of g n a w i n g h u n g e r , of a b j e c t t e r r o r , of wild h o p e , of i m p o t e n t r e v e n g e !

N o t so t e r r i b l e its sights,

h o w e v e r , as t h o s e w h i c h w e r e w i t n e s s e d in t h a t I l i n n o m valley o n t h e o t h e r s i d e of t h e city t h r o u g h w h i c h w e h a d

wandered

in t h e m o r n i n g , w h i c h w a s so filled with h e a p s a n d h i l l o c k s of t h e d e a d a s t o m a k e e v e n t h e R o m a n l e a d e r w h e n h e saw t h e m alternately shudder and weep. Looking around

us, we c o u l d see i m m e n s e m a s s e s of r o c k

t h a t h a d fallen l o n g a g o f r o m t h e r o o f ; a n d e v e n a t t i m e s , in t h e d e a t h like s i l e n c e of t h e p l a c e , w e c o u l d h e a r t h e fall of smaller fragments. danger.

T h i s e x p l o r a t i o n , w e saw, w a s n o t w i t h o u t

I t was n o t l o n g , t h e r e f o r e , ere, f o l l o w i n g t h e g u i d a n c e

of o u r c o r d , w e s a w a little p e n c i l ray of light w h i c h t o l d

us

w h e r e t h e e n t r a n c e was ; a n d it w a s s o m e relief t o find ours e l v e s a g a i n u n d e r t h e s a f e r roof of t h e b r i g h t sky. W e s u p p o s e it m u s t h a v e b e e n in p a r t t h e c o n t r a s t of t h i s d a r k n e s s t h a t m a d e us wish t o finish o u r d a y b y r e t r a c i n g

our

s t e p s a l o n g this p o r t i o n of o u r w a l k , a n d g o i n g u p to w a t c h t h e s u n s e t f r o m a p o i n t o n t h e M o u n t of Olives.

W e yielded

to

t h e i m p u l s e ; t h o u g h w e n e e d e d all o u r s p e e d t o b e in t i m e

to

look on the descending luminary.

But it was i n d e e d a g l o r i o u s

vision, in w h i c h t h e c l e a r a t m o s p h e r e h e l p e d t o p r o d u c e n o v e l effects a n d

to

p a i n t o b j e c t s w i t h h u e s of e x q u i s i t e

beauty.

W i t h w h a t d i s t i n c t n e s s t h e p a r t i n g l u m i n a r y b r o u g h t i n t o view d i s t a n t villages — t h e w h i t e t o m b of s o m e old p r o p h e t — g r a y rocks protruding here and there from the green surface — and

"

Bi'Ck'SIIKESII."

e v e n t h e g r a c e f u l o u t l i n e of s o m e s o l i t a r y t r e e !

W h a t a glory

fell u p o n t h o s e m o u n t a i n s of J u d a h , a n d o n m a n y a

summit

s a c r e d in S c r i p t u r e s t o r y , t h e e f f e c t e v e r c h a n g i n g as t h e g r e a t orb dipped nearer and nearer to the Mediterranean !

There

was a n o t h e r S u n w h o s e s e t t i n g w a s o n c e s e e n f r o m this O l i v e t , b u t w h o r o s e on t h e t h i r d d a y n e v e r t o set a g a i n . But w e h a d b e e n f o r g e t t i n g in o u r e n t h u s i a s m t h a t t h e g a t e s of t h e city w e r e c l o s e d a t s u n s e t ; a n d a n i g h t o u t s i d e t h e walls w a s likely t o h a v e m u c h m o r e of a d v e n t u r e in it t h a n c o m f o r t . W e h a s t e n e d b a c k ; a l e a r n e d f r i e n d , h o w e v e r , a s s u r i n g us t h a t s u n s e t d i d n o t b e g i n a t t h e literal d i s a p p e a r a n c e of t h e s u n , b u t o n l y w h e n t h r e e s t a r s w e r e visible in t h e sky. of-fact T u r k i s h g u a r d s h a d beautiful tradition. was shut.

What

But our matter-

evidently no appreciation

of this

W h e n we c a m e u p t o St. S t e p h e n ' s - g a t e , it w e r e w e to d o ?

We

could

have

endured

h u n g e r f o r a n i g h t , b u t n o t t h e c o l d , w h i c h a t t h i s s e a s o n of t h e year often sinks before midnight many degrees below the freezi n g - p o i n t ; a n d if a few p r o w l i n g B e d o u i n s f o u n d us u n a r m e d , we w e r e c e r t a i n , at t h e least, t o b e r o b b e d a n d s t r i p p e d .

We

c a l l e d a l o u d with all o u r voices, b u t t h e r e w a s n o r e s p o n s e f r o m within ; t h o u g h we n e v e r d o u b t e d

t h a t all t h e w h i l e t h e g u a r d s

were s t a n d i n g i n s i d e t h a t r u g g e d , o l d w o o d e n o u r plight.

gate, e n j o y i n g

A t length the talistnanic word " b u c k s h e e s h " gave

t h e m b a c k t h e i r p o w e r s of h e a r i n g a n d s p e e c h , a n d t h e y indicated their willingness to c o m e to terms.

Our patience

sorely tried in r e d u c i n g t h e i r d e m a n d s t o a r e a s o n a b l e of p i a s t r e s .

was

number

W e b e g a n to f e a r t h a t t h e y w o u l d o n l y a l l o w o n e

of us to e n t e r a t a t i m e , a n d t h a t t h e y w o u l d d e m a n d for e a c h w h a t t h e y h a d e n g a g e d t o a c c e p t f o r us all. firmly

W e therefore held

b y e a c h o t h e r , a n d , w h e n t h e g a t e was o p e n e d , p u s h e d

in with s u c h a s u d d e n f o r c e t h a t t h e rascals, w h o h a d t h e very trick we f e a r e d , g a v e way.

intended

W e threw down the stipu-

l a t e d piastres, w h i c h s h o n e m o r e b r i g h t l y in t h e e y e s of t h o s e m o s t u n s e n t i m e n t a l T u r k s t h a n all t h e s u n s e t s in t h e world, i'--';

10

VIII.

t ihou lain for a ^ e s , ¡roll-bound A s with a curse. T h u s art thou d o o m e d to lie, Vet not for e v e r . "

I62

JERUSALEM

THE

GOLDEN.

N o ; there is a limit to this burden, even in the very bosom of the prophecy.

It has been truly said that not R o m e , but Jeru-

salem, is to be the Eternal City.

Christianity shall yet c o m e

back to her birth-place, and she shall bring every other blessing in her hand when she brings herself, the first and best of all— good government, agriculture, commerce, science, art, order, wealth, peace.

The

dew shall

yet descend

Carmel shall yet laugh with a b u n d a n c e . non shall yet clap their hands.

on

Hermon.

T h e cedars of Leba-

Zion shall yet ring again with

the psalms of her own king and bard, and Jerusalem shall become the praise of the whole earth.

" T h e sons of them that

afflicted thee shall come bending u n t o t h e e ; and all they that despised thee shall bow themselves down at the soles of thy f e e t ; and they shall call thee, T h e city of the Lord, T h e Zion of the Holy O n e of Israel.

Whereas thou hast been forsaken and

hated, so that no man went through thee, I will m a k e thee an eternal excellency, a joy of many generations. hasten it in its time."

I the Lord will

X.

(Dur p b c to

ficthlchcm.

Semes on the -tui)—Convent of Elias—First sight of JSethlehe/n [Micah v. 2 ] — B e a u t i ful tradition—Rachel's tonth ¡ G e n . x x x v . 1 6 - 2 0 ] — L i g h t on the liible [ J e r . x x \ i . 1 5 : .Matt. ii. 17, i S J — A picture [ L u k e x. z i | — Scenes 0/ Ruth's history [ R u t h ¡., ii.]— Modem salutations—David the shepherd—Unconscious education [1 S a m . xvi. 20I —Entrance into Hethlehem—Appearance of its streets—Church of the Xativity— Cautious recc/>tion—Cave of the Xativity — ¡'reliabilities—Early records—Public khans—Song of the shepherds [ L u k e ii. 8 - 1 4 ] — W o r s h i p of the Magi [Matt. ii. 9 - 1 1 : —''Massacre pf the / unocents"—Jerome's oratory—The Lady Paula—Chanting of the Creek

monks — A

market

in

lohich

ive are

gardens [ E c c l c s . ii. 4 - 6 ; — Q u e e n of Sheba—Mistake Card ens of I 'rtas.

the only

purchase

corrected—Mr.

Solomon's Meshiillam—

E had lingered over the scenes of the Agony, the Crucifixion, the Resurrection, and the Ascension ; and we had yet to visit the place which was associated with the glorious mystery of the Incarnation of Christ.

T h a t was a

day to be ever afterwards noted in our memory with a white mark, which brought us to the birth-place of I l i m who was to be the Light and H o p e of the world. As Bethlehem was two hours, or six miles, distant from Jerusalem, this was an excursion only to be accomplished on horseback.

Passing out by the Jaffa-gate, and winding by a rough

zigzag path down the gorge of I l i n n o m , we were soon out into the open upland country, and moving almost directly southward. T h e r e were no roads, in our English sense of the w o r d ; but there were twenty narrow paths to choose between. limestone-rock

usually protruded

itself, and

T h e bare

formed a

very

uneven p a v e m e n t ; but at intervals there were little patches of

C0.XVF.X7 OP EI J,IS.

164

soil c o v e r e d with wild-flowers, in which the ranunculus a n d the scarlet a n e m o n e a b o u n d e d , such as must often h a v e delighted the e y e of H a s s e l q u i s t , the a m i a b l e m a r t y r - b o t a n i s t of Palestine. A n d there were b l o s s o m i n g g a r d e n s not far off on either side, in which y o u c o u l d hear the song of the native bullfinch, with its scarlet crest around its bill.

M u l t i t u d e s of red-legged partridges

also crossed our path at t i m e s ; — a n d these sights and sounds, with the refreshing air a n d the bright sunlight, m a d e our ride, even apart from its chief o b j e c t , most e n j o y a b l e . A little m o r e than m i d - w a y f r o m J e r u s a l e m , we passed the G r e e k c o n v e n t of Elias.

It is a large and i m p o s i n g structure,

surrounded b y high walls which also inclose attractive g a r d e n s , a n d it p r o f e s s e s to m a r k the spot w h e r e E l i j a h f o u n d shelter u n d e r a juniper-tree on his flight to the desert.

B u t the sacred

narrative, which places the s c e n e where the wearied a n d d e j e c t e d p r o p h e t lay d o w n -to rest, a n d p e r h a p s

to die, a long

day's

j o u r n e y further southward, is directly in the f a c e of this tradition.

We b e l i e v e there is less of fiction in what is usually re-

ported of the hospitality of the c o n v e n t . A little-beyond this s a c r e d house, a n d at a s h a r p turn in the road, we lost sight of J e r u s a l e m , B e t h l e h e m b r o k e on our view. meeting-place

between

earth

and

at the s a m e

moment

T h a t , then, had b e e n the great and

h e a v e n — the

spot

where

divinity a n d h u m a n i t y b e c a m e o n e in the person of our incarnate L o r d !

W e reined in our horse, a n d stood still for a time

to look 011 it.

It stretches a l o n g the crest of a mountain of

c o n s i d e r a b l e h e i g h t , — t h e C h u r c h or C o n v e n t of the

Nativity,

with its c o n n e c t e d buildings, c o v e r i n g the loftiest part of the e m i n e n c e , a n d l o o k i n g , at the distance f r o m which w e then saw it, a great deal m o r e like a fortress than a church.

Vineyards

and olive-gardens e l a b o r a t e l y terraced, a n d , as they a p p e a r e d to us through our glass, c a r e f u l l y cultivated, stretched d o w n the sides of the mountain from the village to the v a l l e y far beneath. As

it filled our m i n d s with its g r a n d l y s a c r e d memories, we

RACHEL'S

TOMB.

'65

could not help addressing it aloud in those words of Micah : " But thou, Bethlehem Ephratah, though thou be little a m o n g the thousands of Judah, yet out of thee shall H e c o m e forth unto me that is to be ruler in Israel : whose goings forth have been from of old, from everlasting."

We thought that if that

little town, because of an event which once took place in it, could thus be invested with an interest which for nineteen centuries had drawn to it innumerable pilgrims from every part of the earth, and gathered around it the thoughts of the human family, might there not be worlds in like m a n n e r a m o n g the countless s t a r s — " little a m o n g

the t h o u s a n d s " of the sky—

which held a somewhat similar place, because they had been the chosen scene of great divine manifestations, a n d which angels, in their flights through the universe, often paused to look upon ? W e met with various traditions respecting places on this road, the greater number of which were puerile and absurd enough. But one seemed to us to possess a kind of mystic beauty which a poet like Quarles, or even George H e r b e r t , would have readily turned into a spiritual allegory.

T h e y show you a fountain at

which the wise men from the East lay down greatly dispirited, because their guiding star had not been seen by them for many days.

But as they stooped down to the fountain to quench

their thirst, they saw the friendly light reflected in its w a t e r s ; and welcoming again the divine token, followed on in the path which it illuminated, and were soon after bending and worshipping before the " D e s i r e of all n a t i o n s " who had come. But what is that white cupola-roofed building which we see at some little distance to our right i

It is the t o m b of Rachel

the wife of J a c o b and the mother of Joseph and Benjamin.

We

are now on the very scene of which we read so far back in the Book of Genesis, that " when there was a little way to come to Ephrath, Rachel gave birth to a son."

" And it came to pass

as her soul was in departing (for she died), that she called his

LIGHT

ON THE HIII I.E.

n a m e lienor, i ; b u t his f a t h e r called h i m B e n j a m i n .

And Rachel

died, a n d was buried in the way to E p h r a t h , which is B e t h l e h e m . A n d J a c o b set a pillar u p o n h e r g r a v e ; t h a t is t h e pillar of R a c h e l ' s g r a v e u n t o this d a y . " has often b e e n d e s t r o y e d

T h e c o v e r i n g over the g r a v e

a n d rebuilt since

that

time;

the

p r e s e n t erection is in the well-known S a r a c e n i c styie of archit e c t u r e ; b u t all travellers are a g r e e d t h a t h e r e for o n c e we h a v e certainty, a n d t h a t this b u i l d i n g really m a r k s t h e spot where that m o t h e r of p a t r i a r c h s was

buried.

T o Jewish

women,

especially, it is, to this day, o n e of t h e m o s t sacred p l a c e s in Palestine.

T h e y believe R a c h e l to b e the t y p e of m a t e r n i t y in

its suffering a n d love, a n d to h a v e t h e p o w e r of i n v o k i n g blessings on t h e i r children on t h e earth.

A n d t h e r e f o r e , a t every

new m o o n they g a t h e r a r o u n d her grave, a n d

b y songs

l a m e n t a t i o n s put h o n o u r on t h e m e m o r y of their ancestress.

and

illustrious

T h e r e is o n e familiar p a s s a g e in J e r e m i a h which

w a r r a n t s this typical a p p l i c a t i o n of R a c h e l ' s n a m e .

It is q u o t e d

by t h e evangelist M a t t h e w , a n d used by him to d e s c r i b e H e r o d ' s m a s s a c r e of t h e i n f a n t s in B e t h l e h e m a n d all its b o r d e r s , in o r d e r to c o m p a s s t h e d e s t r u c t i o n of H i m w h o was r e p o r t e d h a v e b e e n r e c e n t l y b o r n K i n g of t h e J e w s - - " I n R a m a there

a

voice

heard,

lamentation,

and

weeping,

and

to was

great

m o u r n i n g , R a c h e l w e e p i n g for her c h i l d r e n , a n d would n o t b e c o m f o r t e d , b e c a u s e they are n o t . " fitness a n d Matthew,

poetic is

But we suspect the e x t r e m e

b e a u t y of this q u o t a t i o n , a s

in g e n e r a l

only

half seen.

Rama

applied is

by

usually

i m a g i n e d to refer to t h e R a m a of S a m u e l , a great way distant. But t h e r e is a p l a c e with ruins a n d rubbish on it, which lies b e t w e e n R a c h e l ' s t o m b a n d B e t h l e h e m , which is called

Rama

at this day, a n d which m a n y s u p p o s e to h a v e b e e n a k i n d of s u b u r b a n village or d e p e n d e n c y of t h e little m o u n t a i n

capital.

L e t it b e r e m e m b e r e d that H e r o d ' s m a s s a c r e is expressly said to h a v e e x t e n d e d to the " coasts," or b o r d e r s , a r o u n d B e t h l e h e m , a n d that this R a m a m u s t t h e r e f o r e h a v e b e e n within the b l o o d y

sc/:x/-:s

OF

Rcrrrs

landmark ; and then

we have

touching

Rachel,

picture

of

HISTORY.

167

the wonderfully the

sublime

representative

of

and

Hebrew

mothers, aroused from her t o m b by those inhuman deeds and infant shrieks, and weeping with inconsolable grief over the tyrant's stroke that has made her childless. As we approached nearer to B e t h l e h e m , we met a considerable stream o f people going up to J e r u s a l e m .

Probably, the

fact that it was the E a s t e r week was drawing many to the city, and to the scenes which were being enacted in the Church of the I l o l y Sepulchre.

Our notice was particularly attracted by

one little company.

A husband and wife, cleanly and comfort-

ably dressed, were travelling with one beautiful child.

The

child was placed in a small cot or cradle on the back o f a goodnatured donkey, which evidently did not feel its load to be burdensome, and which was neatly adorned by a saddle covered with red m o r o c c o leather, and thickly padded in order to m a k e the seat of the infant more comfortable.

O n e o f the parents

walked on either side o f the animal, watching his every motion, lest their little one should receive any harm.

W e liked the

picture o f young parental love, and o f that smiling creature knitting

in

one

the

two

hearts

by a n o t h e r

bond.

W a s it

unnatural or irreverent that, in the circumstances, we should have called to mind J o s e p h and M a r y going up with

their

wonderful child by the same road so long ago, to " p r e s e n t him before the L o r d " ? W e were now so near B e t h l e h e m that we could look straight down into the broad valley that lies between the gardens o f the town and a range of lofty hills which bounds it northward, the far-off purple-tinted mountains o f M o a b forming its apparent limit to the east.

Down in the valley, there seemed to spread

before us the whole scene of the inimitable story o f the B o o k of Ruth—that

exquisite miniature representation o f divine

pro-

v i d e n c e — t h a t sacred drama with its beginning, its middle, and its end.

T h e land near us

part o f which had quite recently

MODERN

SALUTA

T10XS.

b e e n u n d e r t h e p l o u g h , w h i l e o t h e r p a r t s w e r e g r e e n with

the

b r a i r d of w h e a t or b a r l e y — was u n i n c l o s e d , as in t h o s e o l d e n t i m e s so m a n y t h o u s a n d y e a r s s i n c e .

It scarcely required an

effort of f a n c y t o fill u p t h e s c e n e a g a i n with its living f i g u r e s , — to p i c t u r e t h e h o n e s t , m a n l y B o a z fields; maidens

the

jocund

gleaning

reapers behind

plying

d o w n on t h o s e their

t h e m ; while

busy Ruth,

paternal

sickles; the

poor

beautiful

s t r a n g e r f r o m M o a b , m i n g l e s silently with t h e m , a n d

gathers

h a n d f u l s in h e r a m p l e veil, to b e t a k e n h o m e t o N a o m i b e a t e n o u t at n i g h t f a l l .

and

W e could even imagine ourselves to

h e a r t h e k i n d l y s a l u t a t i o n s t h a t p a s s e d at i n t e r v a l s b e t w e e n t h e g e n i a l y e o m a n a n d his d e p e n d e n t s : " T h e L o r d b e w i t h t h e e , " and, " T h e

T-ord b l e s s t h e e , " e x a c t l y c o r r e s p o n d i n g w i t h

the

" A l l a h m ' a k u m " of o r d i n a r y g r e e t i n g s in t h e s a m e r e g i o n n o w . W e w e r e t o o e a r l y in t h e s e a s o n t o w i t n e s s a B e t h l e h e m h a r v e s t , t h o u g h t h e b a r l e y c r o p w a s e x p e c t e d t o r i p e n in a few w e e k s , a c c o r d i n g t o t h e o r d e r i n d i c a t e d in t h e B o o k of R u t h .

B u t we

were assured that every m i n u t e custom painted on that

olden

c a n v a s r e m a i n s u n c h a n g e d , e v e n t o t h e o c c a s i o n a l r u d e n e s s of the

modern

fellahin t o t h e u n p r o t e c t e d

Bethlehemites are a turbulent race, and

gleaners;

for t h o s e

w h e n riots o c c u r in

J e r u s a l e m a t t h e a n n u a l festivals, t h e y a r e usually t h e f o r e m o s t a n d m o s t f e a r l e s s in t h e fray. A n d as w e t u r n e d a n d l o o k e d o n t h o s e n e i g h b o u r i n g

hills,

with t h e i r s t e e p s i d e s a n d c r a g g y s u m m i t s , a n d s a w t h e b r o w s ing g o a t s a n d s h e e p , h o w e a s y it w a s t o i m a g i n e t h e y o u t h f u l son of J e s s e w a t c h i n g his f a t h e r ' s flocks u p y o n d e r , a n d at n i g h t g a z i n g u p with his p o e t ' s e y e u p o n t h e b e a u t i f u l m o o n a n d t h e silent s t a r s !

I t w a s q u i t e t h e s c e n e r y w h i c h s u i t e d for t h e

n a t u r a l e d u c a t i o n of t h e f u t u r e p o e t - k i n g of I s r a e l . indeed believe that nature can p r o d u c e a poet.

W e d o not It is c e r t a i n

that even unfavourable outward circumstances are unable

to

r e p r e s s t h e " f a c u l t y d i v i n e ' ' w h e r e it exists in m u c h

strength.

T h e 1a t e J a m e s M o n t g o m e r y w r o t e s o m e of his b e s t

coniposi-

DA VID

THE

SHEPHERD.

169

tions when looking out from a clingy apartment on a dull brick wall in Sheffield.

But nature can d o much in developing a

poet, in exercising his imagination, and in storing his mind with visions of beauty and g r a n d e u r ; and it is to the point to notice that the poet whom we have named, always wrote best after an excursion a m o n g the finest scenery in Warwick or Derbyshire. We cannot d o u b t that God silently educated David among those scenes on which we were then looking, for his great work as the chief poet and psalmist of the Church for all t i m e ; for men of his t e m p e r a m e n t receive some of their best and most lasting lessons outside the walls of schools and universities. From those hills he could see at the same m o m e n t the Mediterranean and the D e a d S e a ; he could look down upon the scenes of soft beauty and a b u n d a n c e around Bethlehem, and out upon the wild g r a n d e u r of the distant m o u n t a i n s ; while he could witness the rapid changes of the seasons and the terrible war of the elements, and hear the voice of God in the roll and crash of the thunder, with allusions to which his psalms abound. A n d there was an education by external nature beyond this. T h e life of a shepherd in those scenes was one of constant hardship and peril.

The

lion and

the bear which

lurked

a m o n g those rocks, or down near the course of those mountain torrents, were a formidable vermin to deal with, and had often to be encountered single-handed ; not to speak of occasional raids of Ishmaelites up from the desert, or of Philistines from the west stealing along those long gorges of which Bethlehem was the centre, and hungering for plunder, if not thirsting for blood.

Experiences like these familiarized the young shepherd

with daring adventure, and drew out in him fertility of resource; while his frequent search after a lost lamb or kid would m a k e him acquainted with all the surrounding regions, would prepare him for the time, not many years distant, when, as the prophetic king of Israel, he would be hunted for his life by the jealous

170

EXTA'.IXCE

I.XTO

BETHLEHEM.

ami ignoble Saul over all that part of Southern J u d e a , and lie would find the advantage of his knowledge of every inaccessible spot, and natural hiding-place, and narrow mountain-pass where a few brave and true men would be able to resist a thousand. It is a fact worth noting that the presents which Jesse sent by David to Saul, when he was called away from his adventurous shepherd-life to become a minstrel before the king and dispel his moods of melancholy, arc the most common products of the district at this hour, such as we should expect to be sent to a sheikh or chief in that neighbourhood now.

" Jesse took

an ass laden with bread, and a bottle of wine, and a kid, and sent them by David his son unto Saul." We were now entering Bethlehem.

Its n a m e signifies " the

house of bread ; " and it is rather curious that the first sound we heard, as we passed through its gate, was the cheerful one of the grinding of a mill.

T h e little town is said to contain about

four thousand inhabitants, the greater n u m b e r of whom are Christians of the Greek Church.

I t is indeed the most Christian

town in Palestine, and contains so few of the followers of M a h o m e t , that it has not even a Moslem quarter.

W e were

struck by its general look of respectability, the comparative superiority of its houses in respect of structure and comfort, and the many picturesque and lively groups of people whom we saw in its principal street as we rode along on our way to the convent.

Was it some such group as one of these that recognized

the sad and widowed Naomi, as she reappeared suddenly at some corner, after her long absence of ten years ?

L o n g before

our visit to the H o l y L a n d , Lieutenant Van de Velde had informed us of the contrast in cleanliness and comfort observable throughout all Palestine between a Christian and a M o h a m medan village ; and every week of our journeyings confirmed his representation.

Even a very imperfect form of Christianity

lifts a people far above the Moslem standard.

When we com-

CHURCH

OF THE

KATIVITV.

pared the Christian Bethlehem with the Moslem mud-village of New Jericho, which we saw a few days afterwards, we felt that we were looking upon a state of existence as widely apart as that between a Norwegian cottage and a H o t t e n t o t ' s kraal. .But here we were, at last, at the door of the Church of the Nativity, beneath whose roof, it is affirmed, " Mary brought forth her first-born Son.''

T e n clamorous Bethlehemites offered

to take charge of our quiet ultra-phlegmatic A r a b horse.

We

had some doubts, as we selected one strong fellow for the custody of our charger, with our good saddle and bridle from Scotland, whether we should ever see them again—each of the ten seeming ready to contend for the poor animal as his own lawful prize.

But there was nothing for it but to run the

hazard. An iron gate is opened cautiously, by which only one person can enter at a time ; and the roof is so low at the entrance that you almost need to bend double in order to gain admission. In all this, it was easy to discern precautions against sudden surprises from Bedouins and others who might have covetous thoughts about the treasures within.

T o diminish the clanger

of angry collisions between the different Churches, the sacred house is divided a m o n g the Greek, Latin, and Armenian Christians, to each of whom separate parts of the structure are assigned as places of worship and dwellings for the monks.

In

the portion which has been allotted to the Greek communion, you are shown a marble star on the floor, corresponding, as the monks tell you, to the point in the heavens where the supernatural luminary shone, and directly over the scene of the nativity in the subterranean church beneath.

With your curio-

sity quickened, you descend fifteen steps, and are conducted through a long passage into what was originally a cave or grotto cut out of a limestone-rock on the ridge of the mountain against which this part of the convent a b u t s ; and this, you are assured, is the scene of our R e d e e m e r ' s birth.

It is an apartment of

I'A'DBA B/f. I TIES. moderate size and height, everywhere lined and marble.

floored

with

It is illuminated by thirty-two golden lamps, which

are kept burning day and night, all of them the gift of Christian princes.

T h e precise spot of the nativity is indicated by a

glory in the floor composed of marble and jasper, and encircled by a wreath of silver, around which these words are inscribed, Chris/its

natus est" ( H e r e Jesus

Christ was b o m of the Virgin Mary).

I lie de Virgine Maria, Jesus

An altar infixed in the

rock spreads over it.

T h e original manger is reported to have

been carried to R o m e ; but at the distance of seven

paces

another manger is shown, carved out of marble, a n d corresponding in shape and size to the original.

In front of this is the

so-called altar of the Magi, on which incense is kept continually burning. Is this then the actual spot where the Saviour of the world was born, and divinity condescended to b e c o m e enshrined in our humanity?

T o judge dispassionately on this question, it is

necessary that we first dismiss from our minds the thought of all those misplaced ornaments and monkish inventions with which the place is deformed, and every sign of simplicity and humiliation so completely obliterated, and that we endeavour to reproduce the lowly picture so graphically traced for us by the pen of Luke.

But when we have d o n e this, and looked at

the evidence which speaks in favour of this spot, we feel that it cannot be dismissed lightly.

We must distinguish between late

inventions and those early authentic d o c u m e n t s out of which history obtains some of her most precious and reliable materials. Now, it is a fact that Justin Martyr, writing somewhat more than a century after the event, and from his native town of Sichem, only forty miles distant,—familiar, we may presume, with the country and with its fresh local traditions,—is most distinct and unhesitating in his statement that the scene of our Lord's birth was in a rock cavity in this old city of David. T h e fact was repeated through the following centuries by Origen,

PUBLIC

KHANS.

»73

Eusebius, J e r o m e , a n d o t h e r s of t h e early Christian f a t h e r s ; a n d m a n y ages before the days of J e r o m e , this spot was m a r k e d off a n d inclosed within a sacred building as the shrine of t h e Nativity.

W h a t facts are there to set over against these a n d to

displace t h e m ?—more especially when it is r e m e m b e r e d that in that region, then as now, n a t u r a l or artificial c a v e r n s hewn out of the white limestone-rock were frequently taken a d v a n t a g e of in the formation of h u m a n h a b i t a t i o n s ? A s we read the inspired narrative of o u r L o r d ' s birth in t h e light of E a s t e r n scenes a n d customs, it seems to a m o u n t to this.

T h e r e was a public k h a n or caravanserai in B e t h l e h e m

in those days for the a c c o m m o d a t i o n of strangers.

W e never

saw such a k h a n in m o d e r n Palestine ; b u t we a f t e r w a r d s f o u n d shelter in o n e a m o n g the L e b a n o n m o u n t a i n s .

We remember

there was a court in t h e centre, w h e r e our mules a n d h o r s e s rested a n d fed.

A r o u n d this court t h e r e were little a p a r t m e n t s

or cells where travellers could eat a n d sleep.

But s o m e t i m e s

also, as Dr. K i t t o mentions, b e h i n d those a p a r t m e n t s , a n d on a lower level, there were stalls or recesses where cattle could b e sheltered.

I t was p r o b a b l y to such a place in B e t h l e h e m that

J o s e p h a n d M a r y c a m e , late in the evening, and wearied with their long j o u r n e y from N a z a r e t h . the h o u s e already occupied.

T h e y f o u n d every room in

W h a t were they to d o at t h a t late

hour, for it was t h e only caravanserai in the little town 1 T h e r e was a n a t u r a l cave or a r c a d e f o r m e d out of t h e rock, in which the horses a n d mules of strangers s o m e t i m e s received their provender.

T h i s was divided i n t o a n u m b e r of r e c e s s e s ; a n d in

o n e of these, c u r t a i n e d off from the rest, t h e y o u n g virginm o t h e r found quiet in t h e h o u r of h e r e x t r e m i t y ; a n d

her

sorrow was soon t u r n e d into great joy by the birth of H i m " in whom all the n a t i o n s of the earth were to b e blessed."

What

a scene for the birth of the P r i n c e of Life ! for him w h o was "in

t h e form of G o d " to " t a k e u p o n him

servant !" (420)

13

the

form of a

SOA'G OF THE

174

SHEPHERDS.

" Wrapt in his swaddling bands, And in his manger laid, T h e hope and glory of all lands Is come to the world's aid. N o peaceful home upon his cradle smiled ; Guests rudely went and came where slept the royal child."

M e a n w h i l e o n e of those strange contrasts were occurring which m a r k e d t h e whole of Christ's earthly life, a n d which were n o t a b s e n t from the last a n d d a r k e s t scene of all.

I n a plain a b o u t

a mile to t h e east of Bethlehem, where h u m b l e s h e p h e r d s were w a t c h i n g their flocks at midnight, a herald-angel a n n o u n c e d to t h e m the first tidings t h a t the world's great Deliverer h a d c o m e ; a n d i n n u m e r a b l e minstrel-angels s p r e a d i n g in r a d i a n t r a n k s far u p into the sky, sang his natal h y m n in those glad strains whose responses were given b a c k f r o m heaven, a n d whose e c h o e s still reverberate through t h e e a r t h in all Christian hearts : " Glory to G o d in t h e highest, a n d o n earth p e a c e , good-will toward men."

T h o s e s h e p h e r d - w a t c h e r s were p r o b a b l y simple, holy

m e n , w h o h a d b e e n trained in those B e t h l e h e m solitudes to devotion, and w h o h a d long waited, with straining m e n t a l eye a n d earnest soul, for the " C o n s o l a t i o n of I s r a e l . " profound

wisdom

in t h e fact t h a t

they should

T h e r e was have

been

h o n o u r e d to receive t h e earliest t i d i n g s , — s h e p h e r d s f r o m t h e lips of angels, — r a t h e r than t h e p r o u d a n d wrangling leaders of t h e Jewish sects, w h o would h a v e a b u s e d the t r u s t

A n d while

they have left their flocks a n d g o n e to B e t h l e h e m to w e l c o m e to e a r t h the L o r d of h e a v e n , a n d to worship at his feet, t h e r e are o t h e r s from a far-off land n o w j o u r n e y i n g across the m o u n tains of J u d a h , w h o shall soon b e h e r e with their fragrant a n d golden g i f t s — t h e representatives of science, " t h e first f r u i t s " of t h e Gentile world.

I t has b e e n shrewdly said t h a t it is t h e

s a m e o r d e r still: simplicity first; and science next, c o m i n g with its crowns to lay t h e m d o w n before H i m on whose h e a d t h e r e shall b e m a n y crowns. " Those who have bowed untaught to Nature's sway, And they who follow truth along her star-paved way."

JEROME'S ORA TOR Y.

'75

W e were guided to other places of interest under the roof of this immense pile.

From the supposed tomb of the infants

slaughtered by the command of Herod, we turned away with an incredulity which almost tempted us to question what was true.

But there is no reason to doubt that the cell shown as

the oratory of J e r o m e was really the apartment where

that

learned father produced his Latin translation of the Scriptures known as " the Vulgate," and where he also wrote his Commentary.

It is interesting to remember that he

mentions,

when writing on the prophecy of Amos, that he could see from the window of his apartment that T e k o a — s i x miles d i s t a n t — which had been the herdsman-prophet's birth-place, and where he had seen his visions and dreamed his dreams.

Nor is there

any cause to question that that recess contains the tomb of the noble R o m a n matron, the Lady Paula, the friend of Jerome, who sought refuge from the riot and luxury of R o m e in the inn in which her Lord was born ; more especially " as she ever loved privacy and a sequestered life, being of the pelicans' nature, which use not to fly in

flocks

who built and endowed

three monasteries at Bethlehem,—in her " immoderate bounty" more than impoverishing her own children, and giving occasion to Fuller's shrewd remark : " Sure none need be more bountiful in giving than the sun is in shining, which, though freely bestowing his beams on the world, keeps notwithstanding the body of light to himself ; yea, it is necessary that liberality should as well have banks as a stream." But what cheerful music is that which we hear from some part of this great house — rapid, distinct in every note, and yet softened by distance ? Greek Church.

It is the chanting of the monks of the

Their worship is more gladsome than that of

any other o f the Churches represented beneath this r o o f ; just as we noticed that, in their temples in other lands, they usually preferred bright colours upon their walls, and streams of light flowing in upon them.

T h e hymns of the Greek Church in

I 76

CHANTING

OF THE GREEK

MONKS.

celebration of the Nativity are very ancient and numerous — much more so, it is remarkable, than those on the Crucifixion ; and we could almost have believed those lines which Miss Bremer has presented in an English garb to have formed the refrain of that to which we were now listening: " T h y birth, O Christ Jesus our God, H a s caused new light to arise on the world; And they come, the star-worshippers, I!y a star guided, to thee."

What a sudden revulsion of thought and feeling we experienced when we emerged through the iron gate into the open air !

Our extemporized groom had been faithful, and

was waiting patiently for his piastres.

But specimens of all the

manufactures of Bethlehem were instantly pressed upon us by a whole noisy troop of Bethlehemites : carved olive-wood from the neighbouring

gardens ; mother-of-pearl

with beautiful

tracery from the R e d Sea, beads and rosaries made of oliveberries, cups and vases formed of stones from the Dead Sea or the Jordan, or of red-spotted marble from quarries near Jerusalem. It was like a fair in which we were the only hapless purchaser. How much we wished that we could have extended our ride three miles southward, and have visited the famous pools and gardens of Solomon.

From the days of Maundrell to our own,

travellers have been almost unanimous in identifying these as the places of which that most magnificent of Jewish monarchs writes: " I made me great works; I builded me houses; I planted me vineyards; I made me gardens and orchards, and I planted trees in them of all kinds of fruits; I made me pools of water to water therewith the wood that bringeth forth t r e e s ; " and in which, as Leighton says, " he set Nature on the rack to confess its uttermost strength for the delighting and satisfying of man."

His three pools or gigantic cisterns, so disposed

that the waters of the uppermost may descend into the second, and those of the second into the third, are among the few human works in which actual inspection usually exceeds expec-

SOLOMON'S tation.

GARDENS.

177

One traveller, seeking to give an impression of their

extent and magnitude, declares that the surface occupied by them is such that he could not find any point at which all the three could be comprised within one angle of vision ;

and

another informs us that one of them when full would float the largest man-of-war that ever ploughed the ocean.

From Solo-

mon's own words, we should conclude that those colossal structures were partly designed for supplying his neighbouring royal gardens with the means of irrigation, saturating his trees wit 11 that constant moisture which in such a climate is necessary to fruitfulness.

But, beyond this, they were intended for the chief

water-supply of his capital; and the aqueduct which he also constructed for connecting the pools with Jerusalem can still be traced in some places, following the many sinuosities of the intervening mountains—certain noble fragments especially appearing as you ascend from the Valley of Hinnom near to the Jaffa-gate.

Were these a part of the glory of K i n g Solomon,

which, when the Queen of Sheba beheld, " there remained no more spirit in h e r " ? M a n y travellers have been greatly mistaken in confining the gardens of Solomon within one narrow valley in the neighbourhood of the pools, and have thus created difficulties for themselves.

T h e saying has been repeated a hundred times in

varying phrase, from Maundrell downwards, that " if Solomon made his gardens in the rocky ground which is now assigned to them, he demonstrated greater power and wealth in finishing his design, than wisdom in choosing the place for it." scientific observation

13ut

has done much in the department of

horticulture since that grand old traveller's days, and has discovered that " t h e loose, gray, calcareous gravel from those rocky surfaces possesses a fertility exceeding all other kinds of soil for the production of fine fruits."

A n d many things favour

the belief that the area included in Solomon's culture had more of the dimensions of a deer-forest than of a common orchard j

•73

GARDENS

OF

URTAS.

that the whole of that region, c o m p r e h e n d i n g m a n y hills a n d valleys, was o n e vast b l o s s o m i n g a n d fragrant g a r d e n ; a n d that, s t a n d i n g on s o m e c o m m a n d i n g e m i n e n c e such as the flat roof of S o l o m o n ' s own summer-palace, you m i g h t h a v e seen o n e valley filled with the

fig-tree,

a n o t h e r s h a d e d with

the

clustering vine, a n d a third d a r k e n e d by the olive, or bright with t h e scarlet

b l o s s o m s of t h e p o m e g r a n a t e , — t h e

whole

supplying t h e outward imagery of that spiritual love-dialogue between the C h u r c h a n d her divine H u s b a n d , the gorgeous " S o n g of Songs."

I n c o n f i r m a t i o n of this, Mr. M e s h u l l a m m e n -

tions that t h e heights a n d hollows in t h e whole of this neighb o u r h o o d still b e a r n a m e s that reveal their a n c i e n t cultivation a n d fertility—such a s " peach-hill," " nut-vale," a n d "

fig-vale."

In all likelihood, the g a r d e n s of t h a t enterprising agriculturist of U r t a s c o v e r a portion of t h e old royal o r c h a r d s ; a n d o n e friend has noticed with delight to w h a t an e x t e n t the living picture which Mr. M e s h u l l a m has r e p r o d u c e d in t h a t s c e n e — in its singing-birds, a n d sparkling streams, its apricots, a n d p e a c h e s , a n d figs, a n d v i n e s — c o r r e s p o n d s with t h e d e s c r i p t i o n s of S o l o m o n in his Canticles.

T h e l a b o u r s of this singularly

gifted Christian J e w in his farm at U r t a s h a v e placed b e y o n d d o u b t t w o things — that t h e old a b u n d a n c e is yet sleeping in t h e soil of P a l e s t i n e ; a n d that it n e e d s n o miracle, b u t skilled industry with its e n c h a n t e r ' s w a n d , a n d with G o d ' s blessing, to bring b a c k t h e b e a u t y a n d the t e e m i n g wealth of t h e earliest ages of the H e b r e w m o n a r c h y .

While t h e respect a n d confi-

d e n c e with which h e has inspired t h e s u r r o u n d i n g

Bedouin

tribes, causing t h e m n o t only to leave his p r o p e r t y u n m o l e s t e d , b u t to treat him as a friend a n d often to c h o o s e him as an umpire, h a s shown that even they are c a p a b l e of b e i n g c o n ciliated a n d t a m e d by g o o d t r e a t m e n t , b y persevering justice, a n d kindness.

firmness,

I s h m a e l and I s a a c o n c e wept a n d em-

b r a c e d each o t h e r over their father's grave : shall n o t d e s c e n d a n t s o n e day e m b r a c e over Israel's resurrection ?

their

XI. H o t o n at the xlcab ^ c a . Keport of robberies—Increase of escort—Awkward squad—Coing wn to Jericho—The thorny crown—Scene of the great parable [ Luke x. 30]— Oriental brigands—Wildness of the scenery—/¡rook Cherith{>, (1 Kin«* xvii. (>]—Place of the temptation— Quarantana—Old Jericho—Fountain of Elisha ¡2 Kings ii. 19-22]—Historic memories [Joshua vi, ; 2 Ki:i(;s ii. 2 , 3 , 1 5 ] — L a t e r Jericho [Mark x. 46; L u k e xix. 5]— A't-jc Jericho—Marks of earlier fertility—The Jericho theatre—A modern Tillage — Tropical climate—The Jordan—High mass—An incident that is a discord—Look of the river—A protest—Full stream |Jos!ui:i iii. 14-17 ; Ps. cxiv. 5 ; M a t t . iii. 15-17! — The Dead Sea—First impressions—Flight of wild ducks—Reign of desolation—• Problems—Lieutenant Lynch—Engedi—The Fssenes—Off to Mar Saba—Hirds in the wilderness—With the monks and the birds—History of the convent—Suggestions—Convent-bell at midnight—Biblical illustrations [Gen. xxiv. 1 ••), 20].

U R last excursion from Jerusalem was by the Jericho road to the J o r d a n and the D e a d Sea.

As our in-

tention was to m a k e a considerable circuit, so as to return by the Convent of Mar Saba, this journey was certain to occupy the greater part of three days.

On the evening before

we set off, the tidings were reported to us in our little hotel, with much gravity, that a party had been attacked on the line of our route near to the J o r d a n , only two days before.

e

found, on inquiry, that while there was some truth in the report, there was a good deal of exaggeration in the details; and all that we did was to increase the n u m b e r of our Bedouin e s c o r t ; for while by this time we had got accustomed to false alarms, we well knew that the road over which we were a b o u t to travel was the most dangerous in Palestine—at least on the western side of the Jordan.

Our guard, when it appeared the next

THE THORNY

CROWN.

morning, was of a somewhat ragged description ; most innocent of soap or of pipe-clay; each man carrying a long musket, whose barrel was strengthened by a number of brass rings fixed round it, reminding one of a broken limb that had been carefully bandaged ; and the chief carrying the additional distinction of a sabre dangling at his side, and two enormous pistols stuck in his belt, with handles like the heads of little bull-dogs. Winding rapidly round the southern point of Olivet, and turning eastward past Bethany, of which we obtained a parting glimpse, we began our descent towards Jericho.

T h e evangeli-

cal writers are strictly true to the facts of geography,—as they are indeed in every other instance,—when they speak of "going down " from Jerusalem to Jericho ; for you descend quickly all the way, the plain of the Jordan in which old Jericho stood being three thousand feet below the mountain-level of Jeru salem.

On the earlier part of our journey, we were greatly

interested by repeatedly coming on a shrub or bush having tangled branches with sharp spikes more than an inch long.

It

is traditionally named as the species of bush from which our Lord's thorny crown was woven ; and it has been not inaccurately represented in some of the pictures of the Old Masters. Certainly, when such a cruel garland was fastened around the temples, and still more when the head was stricken, the wounds must have been deep, and the suffering great. As we advanced, the signs of vegetation became scantier, and the road more wild, intricate, and difficult.

We now

became impressed with what has so often been noticed,—the exquisite propriety with which this path had been chosen by our Lord as the scene of his great parable of " the good Samaritan."

" A certain man went down from Jerusalem to

Jericho, and fell among thieves, which stripped him of his raiment, and wounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead."

There were twenty places on our way where we could

imagine the scene to have been enacted, as it has often indeed

BROOK

ClIERITII.

(?)

181

been r e p e a t e d in its d a r k e r features since Christ's days. m e n t i o n s o n e place as familiarly k n o w n n a m e of the red or b l o o d y road.

Jerome

in his times by the

Again a n d again, we passed

on a narrow path b e t w e e n high, black, frowning rocks, c o m i n g u p o n s h a r p angles, b e y o n d which a b a n d of r o b b e r s c o m p l e t e l y h i d d e n might h a v e been waiting with p o i n t e d muzzles to give us a b l o o d y welcome, or to receive us into a snare from which there would b e n o escape. a m o u n t a i n - p a s s even in

I t would b e difficult to imagine C a l a b r i a m o r e suitable

b r i g a n d s t h a n this J e r i c h o r o a d

for

is for t h e O r i e n t a l

Italian robber.

A t o n e s h a r p narrow turn, we c a m e u p o n a c o m p a n y of Arabs, with their spears in rest a n d their m a t c h l o c k s in their h a n d s , who glared u p o n us with their fierce covetous e y e s ; b u t they did us n o harm.

W e were n o t unwilling, however, b y a m o r e

rapid pace, t o put a mile or two between us a n d such thievishlooking characters, especially as they m i g h t h a p p e n to c h a n g e their m i n d . A t length, we g o t out from those r o c k y zigzag paths, and moved

cautiously a l o n g

t h e sides of high m o u n t a i n s , f r o m

which we l o o k e d d o w n into wadys of almost terrific d e p t h .

The

heat was g r e a t ; the soil c h a l k y ; everything b a k e d a n d withered; c h a n n e l s t h a t h a d n o t long since b e e n t h e b e d of m o u n t a i n streams, h a d b e c o m e so dry that we m i g h t h a v e lain down and slept in t h e m with safety.

O n e of these w a d y s was so d e e p ,

a n d the part of the m o u n t a i n below us so precipitous, t h a t it was s o m e t i m e s dizzying to look downwards, a n d o n e false s t e p would h a v e b e e n certain

destruction.

W e noticed, however,

that while t h e r e was n o t so m u c h m o i s t u r e as a d r o p of dew on the sides of t h e m o u n t a i n , there was a b r o o k of c o n s i d e r a b l e v o l u m e a n d b r e a d t h flowing at t h e b o t t o m of the valley, thickly covered in m a n y places with o l e a n d e r - b u s h e s , which grew o n either side of it, b u t in other places o p e n a n d clear, m o v i n g o n with a steady c u r r e n t of s o m e force.

W h a t rivulet was t h i s ]

I t s m o d e r n n a m e is K r i t h ; a n d the m o r e we thought, t h e m o r e

IS2

PLACE

OF THE TEMPTA

TIOX.

we were inclined to c o n c u r in the j u d g m e n t of m a n y travellers of authority, t h a t this was the actual b r o o k Cherith, on whose b a n k s the p r o p h e t E l i j a h was sent to hide himself f r o m t h e vengeance of A h a b d u r i n g the first period of the t h r e e years of famine.

L o o k i n g at the various natural conditions of the scene,

it was impossible to imagine a n y place m o r e w o n d e r f u l l y fitted to b e t h e refuge of t h a t fearless " p r o p h e t of

fire."

m a r k e d this to our friend w h o was riding n e a r us. itself was almost inaccessible.

W e re-

T h e place

T h e b r o o k c o n t i n u e d to

on, as if secretly fed by s o m e inexhaustible f o u n t a i n ,

flow when

everything a r o u n d for m a n y miles looked as if it h a d c o m e o u t of a n oven.

T h o s e thickly-tangled oleander-bushes would not

only supply a m o s t grateful shade, b u t m a n y a d a r k covert in which

Elijah

might

elude

discovery.

Only one

condition

s e e m e d wanting to fill u p the narrative in the Second B o o k of Kings.

A s we said this, a n u m b e r of ravens rose from the very

spot, a n d sailed u p past us i n t o t h e sky.

" T h e r e , " we ex-

claimed, " are t h e great-grandchildren by t h o u s a n d s of generations of t h e r a v e n s t h a t were Elijah's miraculous

purveyors!"

" F o r t h e r a v e n s b r o u g h t him b r e a d a n d flesh in t h e morning, and bread and

flesh

in t h e e v e n i n g ; a n d h e d r a n k of t h e

brook." W h e n we h a d r i d d e n for m o r e t h a n four hours, we c a m e u p o n a region of extraordinary solitariness a n d desolation, t h e place a m o n g the m o u n t a i n s of J u d e a which an old and highly p r o b able tradition has fixed u p o n as t h e scene of our L o r d ' s temptation.

first

It is n o t merely what Milton has pictured it,— " A barren desert, fotmtainlcss and dry,"—

b u t like a place to be s h u n n e d ; a spot on which the very dews of h e a v e n would r e f u s e t o fall—confused, blasted, j u d g m e n t stricken.

M a u n d r e l l long since truly described it as " so torn

a n d disordered as if the earth had here suffered s o m e great convulsion, in which its very bowels had b e e n t u r n e d

outward."

QUARANTANA. D i m mists h u n g over it, like s o m e u n w h o l e s o m e

exhalation.

H i t h e r c a m e that " g l o r i o u s E r e m i t e , " led of the Spirit, t h a t h e might fast for forty days, and at the e n d of that season " b e t e m p t e d of the devil."

I t was the c h o s e n battle-ground of

single c o m b a t b e t w e e n the a u t h o r of our ruin a n d H i m who h a d c o m e to be the a u t h o r of o u r r e d e m p t i o n . a n d a l o n e h e fought."

" A l o n e he fasted,

S a t a n c o n q u e r e d t h e first A d a m in a

garden ; h e was now to b e c o n q u e r e d by t h e s e c o n d A d a m in a d e s e r t ; and b y this, a n d t h e greater victory u p o n t h e g a r d e n was to b e recovered a n d

Calvary,

re-entered—something

i m m e a s u r a b l y b e t t e r t h a n the paradise that had b e e n lost was to b e regained.

Is it p r e s u m p t u o u s to say that all external

tilings in that m o m e n t o u s conflict were in favour of the t e m p t e r ? — t h e exhausted b o d y of our R e d e e m e r , t h e long solitude which had cut him off from all h u m a n s y m p a t h y , the depressing influe n c e of t h e scenery ; even the p r e s e n c e of t h e wild beasts, o n e would think, must h a v e a d d e d to t h e h o r r o r s of t h e

scene.

But there was n o o p e n i n g for Satan's d a r t s in that sinless spirit. " T h e P r i n c e of this world c a m e , a n d h a d n o t h i n g in h i m . " I t was a positive relief to

turn away from this weird-like

spot, a n d , soon after, to look d o w n u p o n the b r o a d plain of J e r i c h o on which t h e sun was s h i n i n g — t o trace the v e r d a n t line of the J o r d a n now so n e a r — t o gaze on t h e m o l t e n mirror of the D e a d Sea at a greater d i s t a n c e — a n d to m a r k t h e play of purple light u p o n the distant hills of A r a b i a a n d Palestine.

Southern

Passing d o w n by a comparatively easy descent, we

were soon out u p o n the plain, a n d gazing b a c k towards the rugged

mountain-land

over which

we had

been

travelling.

T h e r e , straight before us, was the m o u n t a i n of Q u a r a n t a n a , by which the range is t e r m i n a t e d

- w h i t e , rugged, a n d n a k e d , ris-

ing sheer u p from the plain to a height of fifteen h u n d r e d feet. I t is far from unlikely that it is the " e x c e e d i n g high m o u n t a i n " which was the scene of our L o r d ' s second t e m p t a t i o n , a c c o r d i n g to L u k e ' s order, from which the baffled adversary, next seeking

134 to awaken

FOUNTAIN

OF

ELISHA.

in his p u r e b o s o m t h e fires of unholy a m b i t i o n ,

" showed him in a m o m e n t of time the k i n g d o m s of the world and all the glory t h e r e o f , " — " l i y w h a t s t r a n g e p a r a l l a x , or optic skill Of vision multiplied t h r o u g h air, or glass Of telescope, w e r e fruitless to i n q u i r e . "

T h e r e are cells a n d caves all u p the sides of the m o u n t a i n , in which s o m e of t h e m o r e d e v o u t C o p t i c a n d Abyssinian Christians c o n t i n u e t o k e e p their Q u a r a n t a i n , or forty days of fasting, before going u p to k e e p E a s t e r at J e r u s a l e m . B o u n d i n g eastward over t h e plain, a n o t h e r mile b r o u g h t us to the fountain of Elisha a n d the ruins of old J e r i c h o .

There

seems n o r e a s o n for d o u b t i n g t h a t this is t h e a c t u a l fountain which was miraculously h e a l e d of its u n w h o l e s o m e

qualities

a n d its brackishness, at the request of the p e o p l e of J e r i c h o , b y t h e p r o p h e t Elisha.

It is a n o b l e well to this day, gurgling

forth at o n c e with b r o a d , bright, vigorous s t r e a m .

An

old

traveller of two centuries ago describes it as flowing i n t o a large reservoir or basin, an

i m m e n s e palm-tree b e n d i n g over t h e

b r i m m i n g lakelet, a n d himself a n d a party of forty taking their a f t e r n o o n meal on t h e margin u n d e r t h e palm's grateful shade. T h e r e is n o t h i n g of this a m e n i t y now, for t h e energy of t h e B e d o u i n s always goes forth in the direction of destruction ; b u t its waters are r e f r e s h i n g — t h e sweetest, it is said, in P a l e s t i n e — a n d so a b u n d a n t that o u r wearied horses p l u n g e d at o n c e i n t o the m i d d l e of t h e m a b o v e their knees. A n d if this was the m e m o r a b l e Elisha-fountain, t h e n a r o u n d us, in t h o s e pillars of b r o k e n - d o w n a q u e d u c t s — i n those fragm e n t s of p o t t e r y a n d hewn stones c r o p p i n g u p t h r o u g h the s o i l — a b o v e all, in those i m m e n s e pyramidal m o u n d s of d e b r i s — we b e h e l d the ruins of t h e a n c i e n t J e r i c h o of J o s h u a ' s times, " h u g e city a n d high-towered."

W i t h s o m e difficulty we climbed

t h r o u g h the m i d s t of the loose debris to the ridge of the m o u n d , a n d sought to call u p s o m e of the historic pictures associated

HISTORIC with Old Jericho.

MEMORIES.

185

A mile or two eastward, b e t w e e n us a n d t h e

J o r d a n , must h a v e b e e n t h e

temporary

resting-place

of

the

children of Israel after their m i r a c u l o u s passage of the sacred stream.

A r o u n d the lofty walled city which h a d stood on this

spot, t h e chosen m e n of Israel h a d m a d e their daily c i r c u i t — t h e priests, b e a r i n g t h e mysterious ark, m o v i n g in f r o n t of t h e m ; a n d on t h e s e v e n t h clay, at the shout of the p e o p l e a n d the s o u n d of t h e trumpets, t h e strong r a m p a r t s h a d fallen flat to the g r o u n d , a n d G o d h a d p u t into their h a n d s the glorious first-fruits

of C a n a a n i t i s h c o n q u e s t .

N o r was it possible f o r us

to forget, as we l o o k e d u p a l o n g t h e valley that s t r e t c h e d northward to Bethel, t h a t d o w n that very way Elijah m u s t have c o m e with his loving minister Elisha on that e v e n t f u l day w h e n h e was to b e taken u p ; t h e y o u n g p r o p h e t s from their college at J e r i c h o following him at s o m e distance, a n d , f r o m a vantageg r o u n d n o t far off, b e h o l d i n g his s u d d e n h e a v e n w a r d a s c e n t in t h e chariot of fire. T h e J e r i c h o of our L o r d ' s t i m e s — w h e r e blind B a r t i m e u s a n d his c o m p a n i o n received their sight, a n d where Zaccheus, little of stature, c l i m b e d

u p into the l o w - b r a n c h e d

sycamore

to

escape the pressure of the eager crowd, a n d to h a v e a b e t t e r view of the m e e k P r o p h e t as h e p a s s e d b e n e a t h — lay n e a r e r to t h e m o u n t a i n , a n d can still b e traced b y those t o k e n s of m a n ' s labour a n d residence which so unequivocally m a r k t h e site of the perished cities of the East. O u r servants had, s o m e time before, left us for R i h a , or N e w Jericho, a mile and a half southward, in t h e n e i g h b o u r h o o d of which they were t o pitch our tents a n d h a v e everything in readiness for us.

W e followed in the line of the

sparkling

streamlet which flowed from the f o u n t a i n of Elisha, a n d g a v e life a n d b e a u t y to a s o m e w h a t b r o a d margin of trees on either side of it.

T h e Ain D u k — a n o t h e r fountain, from which a

s e c o n d rivulet p o u r e d i t s e l f — a n d a s t r e a m issuing f r o m the W a d y K e l t , also m a r k e d their course by similar strips of green ;

i86

NEW

JERICHO.

and there were little cultivated spots and pleasant knots of trees visible at wide intervals : but, in its general aspect, this plain of Jericho was bare and desolate.

A n d yet this same region,

stretching from the shores of the D e a d Sea away up to Bethel, and from tlx; Jordan to the mountains of Judah, had once been the very garden of Palestine.

T h e former culture of the sugar-

cane is to this day revealed by the ruins of old sugar-mills that are seen in many places, especially in the line of streams and aqueducts.

T h e vine and the fig-tree flourished here in their

congenial soil ; corn and indigo abounded.

H e r e the oposal-

bum wept its tears of fragrant, healing balsam, which was sold in R o m e for twice its weight in s i l v e r ; and Jericho rejoiced through many centuries in its favourite name of " the C i t y of Palms."

The

luxurious

Cleopatra coveted

this region,

and

received it at length from her enslaved lover, Mark A n t o n y , as her splendid dowry.

T h e last of the H e r o d s came here to die,

and tried in vain to forget his misery in its matchless beauty. A n d all this ancient glory and Eden-like a b u n d a n c e m a y yet c o m e back again.

Irrigation from those little dancing r i v u l e t s —

and, above all, from the neighbouring Jordan, with its extraordinary w a t e r - p o w e r — a l o n g with skilled industry and the protection of a truly paternal government, would produce a speedy resurrection of all the earlier beauty and fruitfulness. o n c e man is changed

When

in Palestine, its soil will be renewed :

" U p o n the land of my people will c o m e up thorns and briers, until

the Spirit be poured from on high."

T h e silvery stars were shining down

beautifully upon our

tents before we had dined, and we were resolving on an early rest for our wearied bodies, when we were startled by visitors from the neighbouring M o s l e m village of R i h a , bearing rude lanterns and thick branches of trees, and looking most debased and villanous.

T h e y were about eighteen in number, and we

were a little Uneasy to learn in what this sudden apparition was to terminate.

Arranging themselves in a line, and

closely

THE JERICHO

THEATRE.

187

wedged to each other at a b o u t twelve p a c e s d i s t a n t from us, they m o v e d to a n d fro, s t a m p i n g with their feet a n d clapping with their h a n d s ; to all which they k e p t time by wild m o n o t o nous sounds, which gradually increased in loudness.

By degrees

they c a m e n e a r e r ; at length so n e a r as to b r a n d i s h the thick b r a n c h e s in our faces, a n d to yell in our ears with cries the very opposite of musical.

All this we e n d u r e d without the least

sign of resistance or look of f e a r ; for h a d we shown either of these, t h e y would n o d o u b t h a v e p r o c e e d e d to m o r e u n p l e a s a n t liberties.

A t length t h e cry of " b u c k s h e e s h " i n t e r p r e t e d all

these p e r f o r m a n c e s ; a n d with t h e p r e s e n t of a few coins, we thought savages.

we h a d

rid

ourselves

rather

cheaply

of the

filthy

But they h a d scarcely g o n e when there a p p e a r e d a

similar c o m p a n y of w o m e n , who went t h r o u g h t h e s a m e exhibition, only with shriller cries a n d m o r e horrible grins. s e c o n d " b u c k s h e e s h " disposed of t h e m also.

But

A

the two

ungainly c o m p a n i e s h a d r o b b e d us, in our e x t r e m e weariness, of a precious h o u r of rest.

W e were n o t without a p p r e h e n s i o n

that, after they h a d t a k e n m e a s u r e of our a p p a r e n t

strength,

visits of a worse form would d i s t u r b us d u r i n g t h e n i g h t ; b u t through the watchfulness of o u r guards, or for s o m e o t h e r reason, we were left u n m o l e s t e d . W e rose early the next morning, a n d getting u p to the top of a m o u n d , l o o k e d d o w n u p o n t h e miserable village f r o m which our swarthy e n t e r t a i n e r s h a d c o m e t h e night before.

I t s houses

were a b o u t twenty-four in n u m b e r : they were built a n d roofed in with m a t t e d b r u s h w o o d , stone, and clay, and looked m o r e like pig-sties t h a n h u m a n habitations.

much

A thick h e d g e of

s o m e d e n s e prickly s h r u b f o r m e d their wall of defence.

The

i n h a b i t a n t s c o u n t as B e d o u i n s of the agricultural class, but are, in fact, prowling robbers, to w h o m farming is only a s e c o n d resort.

T h e i r religion is a c o m p o u n d of M o h a m m e d a n i s m a n d

foul superstition : a n d it is affirmed that the vices of S o d o m have clung for four t h o u s a n d years to the p e o p l e of this region, ¡129) 14

TROPICAL

CLIMATE.

just as the bitumen has never been

separated

from its soil.

Nothing, in fact, had a look o f innocence in that wretched place except the beautiful white doves which c o o e d upon its roofs and flew constantly in and out o f its dwellings. Not far from this village there were little plots of trees and corn-fields ; and we had time to notice the astonishing advance of vegetation in this region as compared with Jerusalem.

that

around

T h e r e the fig-tree had only begun to send forth its

first tender s h o o t s ; here it was covered with foliage.

T h e r e we

had left the corn little more than in the blade on the slopes of Mount Zion ; here, though it was only the first day in April, it was the time of harvest, and some o f the corn was already reaped.

In a ride o f little more than five hours, or at a dis-

tance from Jerusalem o f fifteen miles, we had suddenly passed into the climate of the tropics.

T h i s is the case in the southern

extremity o f the J o r d a n , and in the deep G h o r through which it rushes to the Dead Sea.

W e recollect hearing an eminent

(raveller mention that he found flowers growing in this part of Palestine similar to those which abound in some o f the hottest districts of India, and that many of the birds were the same as those which he had met with in the African Sahara.

It is a unique

fact in the physical geography of the world, that, in a country of about an equal area with Wales, there exist all the principal climates of the earth.

Down towards the embouchure of the

J o r d a n , there are the temperature and the natural

productions

o f the t r o p i c s ; in Samaria the climate is not unlike that of the south of England or the centre o f F r a n c e ; while north, upon the loftier sides of L e b a n o n , you meet with many o f the plants and animals o f the frigid zone, and c o m e upon the region of eternal snow, realizing the poet's picture of " sainted L e b a n o n , " " W h o s e h e a d in w i n t r y g r a n d e u r t o w e r s . And whitens with eternal sleet : W h i l e s u m m e r , in a v a l e o f

flowers.

Is sleeping rosy at his f e e t . "

It is more than a devout fancy which recognizes divine wisdom

TUE

189

JORDAN.

in selecting a c o u n t r y of such varied scenery a n d climate as the c e n t r e of a revelation which was designed to b e u n i v e r s a l ; for it has t h e r e b y been secured that t h e pictures a n d poetical allusions with which the Scriptures a b o u n d , shall be intelligible by the universal world. W e had b e c o m e i m p a t i e n t to reach t h e J o r d a n , which we knew was little m o r e t h a n three miles distant from us eastward ; a n d o u r refreshed horses, s e e m i n g to share in o u r impatience, galloped quickly with us over t h e plain, which was crisp with sand, or c o v e r e d with s a m p h i r e and o t h e r m i n u t e plants.

More

than o n c e we rose in o u r stirrups, h o p i n g to catch t h e first glance of an o b j e c t that was like a sacred p o e m t o o u r s o u l ; but the singularly d e e p depression of its c h a n n e l , a n d the trees which thickly lined it on either side, effectually hid it from us until we were a l m o s t on its margin.

But t h e r e it was at length

— t h e J ordan ! the J o r d a n ! " — r u s h i n g impetuously onward like a war-horse t o the Sea of D e a t h .

But as we were finding o u r

way from t h e higher level down through tangled s h r u b s and thick grass to the river's brink, we were startled by a spectacle which, of all things in t h e world, we h a d least e x p e c t e d to see. It was M o n s i g n o r C a p e l again.

Beside a c l u m p of trees a

w o o d e n altar was erected, with six tall wax-candles and guttering u n d e r a mid-day sun.

burning

A stout priest, c o n s t a n t l y

fanned by an a t t e n d a n t , was p e r f o r m i n g what s e e m e d

high

m a s s ; the clever ecclesiastic was kneeling at t h e d i s t a n c e of a b o u t a yard ; and the Scottish marquis, b a r e h e a d e d , was also kneeling a g o o d way f u r t h e r back.

A little A r a b boy, m o v e d

a p p a r e n t l y by pity, tore down a b r a n c h from a n e i g h b o u r i n g tamarisk-tree, and began to fan away the m o s q u i t o e s from the e x p o s e d head of the y o u n g peer.

W e t u r n e d away with pity

of a n o t h e r kind. T h i s part of the J o r d a n is t h e scene of t h e a n n u a l immersions of pilgrims from all parts of t h e world, a n d the traditional spot where J o h n the Baptist performed his baptisms.

A

THE RIVER

IN FLOOD.

c o n s i d e r a b l e stretch of t h e river is visible from o n e p o i n t ; a n d t h e wild laurel, the arbutus, the pistachio, the willow, the aspen, a n d the t a m a r i s k , form a richly variegated fringe to its b a n k s , a n d a most w e l c o m e protection from the sun's rays, which, without t h e m , would b e almost intolerable.

W e confess our-

selves u n a b l e to j o i n with those who h a v e r e c o r d e d their first impressions of this sacred stream in words of d i s a p p o i n t m e n t a n d strong depreciation.

W e a f t e r w a r d s c a m e u p o n t h e river

at p o i n t s in its u p p e r c o u r s e ; a n d there, flowing with m o d e r a t e current a n d over a rocky b o t t o m , it r e m i n d e d us, even in its music, of o n e of o u r own Scottish streams.

W e h a v e seen a

p a i n t e r seize u p o n s o m e t h i n g m u c h less p r o m i s i n g at h o m e , a n d call it picturesque.

But w h e r e we n o w stood, t h e river

was a h u n d r e d feet b r o a d , a n d ten feet d e e p almost f r o m its b r i n k ; a n d , rushing a n d swirling on with irresistible speed, it gave

us t h e impression of g r a n d e u r

and

might.

The

last

epithet we should h a v e t h o u g h t of applying to it was that of " insignificant."

O n e strong A r a b , h a v i n g stripped himself a n d

b o u n d a n inflated goat-skin r o u n d his loins, flung himself into the current.

I n spite of all his efforts, it

with the s p e e d of a cork.

floated

him d o w n

A s h e was by n o m e a n s an expert

in steering his course, it was only t h r o u g h a b e n d in t h e river with s o m e o v e r h a n g i n g branches, t h a t h e was saved f r o m b e i n g carried away.

N o d o u b t t h e J o r d a n was now in flood, for it

was the harvest season in its n e i g h b o u r h o o d , a n d true to its old c u s t o m as r e c o r d e d in Old T e s t a m e n t story, it still " overflows its b a n k s all t h e time of h a r v e s t a n d

t h o u g h there are n o

lions in P a l e s t i n e now, it had driven by its swellings m a n y a leopard and wild b o a r f r o m their lair a m o n g its r e e d s a n d willows. T h e nearest trees still d i p p e d their lowest b r a n c h e s in its current, a n d we could

trace the r e c e n t water-mark

higher, so that we saw t h e river to a d v a n t a g e .

feet

But even with

these concessions, we can only a c c o u n t for the " t o n i n g d o w n " of s o m e

some

remarkable

travellers, by supposing that

they

HOL V

MEMOA'/ES.

191

had visited the river at a m u c h less favourable season o f the year, or that they had c o m e with extravagantly excited expectations. But there were grand and holy memories c o n n e c t e d with the Jordan which, as we stood and silently g a z e d , seemed to shed a w o n d r o u s glory over it.

N o t far from the p l a c e where

we

then w e r e — f o r it was " o v e r against J e r i c h o " — i t s waters had been miraculously divided, as the feet of the white-robed priests bearing the ark t o u c h e d its brink ; and while the ark stood in its m i d d l e channel, the triumphant hosts o f Israel, more than a million strong, had passed over on dry ground. thee, O Jordan, that thou wast driven b a c k ?"

" W h a t ailed M a n y a century

afterwards, at the touch of E l i j a h ' s mantle, twice in one day it had separated its waters and m a d e a p a t h — f i r s t for the heavens u m m o n e d prophet, and next for his m e e k minister and successor.

In some quiet eddy hereabouts, John had baptized his

thousands, having proclaimed to them, as they sat in eagerly listening crowds in that Jericho plain b e y o n d , the c o m i n g of the K i n g and his k i n g d o m , and the necessity of repentance in order to his meet reception.

A n d in the same place, it is pro-

bable, there had met the forerunner and the K i n g , the representative o f the old dispensation with the A u t h o r and H e a d of the new ; and while John had poured on his head the baptismal stream, the act of c o n s e c r a t i o n had been i m m e d i a t e l y ratified b y the v o i c e of the F a t h e r from the midst of " the

excellent

glory," and by the visible d e s c e n t upon him of the H o l y Spirit without measure.

T h a t o n e event will m a k e the J o r d a n the

chief of all rivers while the world stands. T h r o u g h how m a n y ages h a v e the poetry and the prayers of Christians m a d e the passage of this river the favourite e m b l e m of the believer's death !

W a s it unnatural then, that, as we

turned away from its brink, our thoughts sought utterance in those words of the h y m n , — T o Jordan's b a n k s w h e n e ' e r w c curne. A n d hear the swelling w a t c ^ roar,

THE

i 92

DEAD

SEA.

J e s t i s , c o n v e y us s a f e l y h o m e T o f r i e n d s not lost, but g o n e b e f o r e . "

W e were soon mounted and on our way to the D e a d which was more than an hour and a half distant.

Sea,

F o r a time we

kept near the course of the J o r d a n , which, as we could observe through occasional

openings in the bright green foliage that

skirted its b a n k s , flowed around looked truly beautiful.

many a wooded

islet,

and

A t length we struck more in a south-

westerly direction, and passed through a region that b e c a m e ever

more

and

more

bare

and

desolate

as

we

advanced.

B l a c k e n e d sand-hills, and vast m o u n d s that might h a v e been the tombs of the giant sinners of S o d o m , were our landmarks.

dismal

O n e has said that we might imagine cities looking

thus " in the subterranean k i n g d o m of h e l l . "

A t all events,

there was a kind of pictorial k e e p i n g in the fact that such a pathway as this should have been our road to the D e a d Sea. Y e t the first impression p r o d u c e d on us, when we sat down on its northern shore and l o o k e d along its surface, was not of that g l o o m y description

which

so

many

have

experienced.

T h e r e it spread, like a smooth mirror, reflecting the radiance of the bright sun a b o v e , which shone out from a cloudless s k y that was beautifully blue.

W e have seen lakes in Switzerland,

and even nearer h o m e , whose first influence upon us was much more depressing.

I t is the facts and associations

connected

with it, that d o so much to spread a black pall o v e r our spirit as we k e e p gazing on it.

In all that far-stretching inland s e a —

twice as long and broad as our own L o c h L o m o n d — t h e r e is not a single living thing.

T h e old fiction has indeed long since

been disproved, that n o bird can fly over it without being poisoned b y its sulphurous e v a p o r a t i o n s ; and we ourselves saw eighteen wild ducks accomplish the feat unharmed, and alight at the mouth of the J o r d a n . almost never to be seen shores.

floating

But it is a fact that birds are on its waters, or feeding on its

Y o u look in vain for the white-winged sea-gull or the

J

PROBLEMS.

93

twittering swallows that follow the caiques on the bright waters of the Bosphorus.

N o boat ever skims its s u r f a c e ; for why

should the fisherman drop his net into a sea that is without life ? It is a kind of liquid wilderness.

Floral life is not entirely ab-

sent, for we plucked one of the most beautiful flowers we saw in Palestine, a b o u t the distance of a yard outside the water-mark oi the D e a d Sea.

But vegetable life is exceedingly rare, a n d the

mountains that hem in the lake like ramparts on either side, are barren, igneous, and black, only capable of sustaining a few sickly plants ; while the reeds that grow at the mouth of the few streams that flow into it are encrusted with salt, and look as if they were m a d e of coral.

All along its shores, as far as the eye could

reach, there was neither village, nor human habitation,

nor

human b e i n g ; for the A r a b keeps at a distance from its sickly shores, even more than he would from a ghost-haunted ruin or a spot that was accursed.

T h e n the traveller is unable to rid

himself of the thought that those sullen waters float over the graves of the guilty cities that were miraculously

destroyed

because of their moral abominations, and that the very region has the wrath of God against sin visibly ploughed into it and written on it.

T h e contrast was indeed great between this and

the Sea of Galilee, on whose shores it was afterwards our delight to linger—bright and joyous with life, and almost every association connected with which was rich in lessons of purity, or in memories of the miracles of Christ's love. T h e various problems that have so long hung over this mysterious sea, seem now to be approaching solution. the site of the four cities of the plain 1

Where was

And, keeping in view

the information supplied by the sacred narrative, what was the manner of their destruction?

All m o d e r n investigations con-

verge to the conclusion that the cities stood on a portion of land beyond the well-known ford which is now the south-eastern extremity of the lake, and which is comparatively shallow. T h e y were built on soil that was bituminous, and

therefore

ENGEDI.

194

i g n e o u s ; the stones themselves were of the s a m e material, obtained

from the n e i g h b o u r i n g s l i m e - p i t s ;

a fiery shower of

sulphur mingled with lightning would b e e n o u g h to set the whole circle of cities in flames, a n d these b u r n i n g d o w n to t h e water's edge, the waters would rush in and c o m p l e t e the desolation, a n d , as it were, d o t h e work of burial after death.

I s it

a m e r e c o n j e c t u r e that b r o k e n pillars are still visible through the t r a n s p a r e n t waters when they are low, and that these are s o m e parts of the u n c o n s u m c d skeletons of the r e p r o b a t e cities ? We saw t h e D e a d Sea in its least u n f a v o u r a b l e aspect, a n d t h e e x t r e m e gravity of its waters m a k e s it less liable to b e tossed by s t o r m s t h a n our c o m m o n inland seas.

But it can b e angry

even to t e m p e s t , as the h e a p s of b a t t e r e d a n d b l a c k e n e d driftwood n e a r us m a d e evident. ing d e m o n i a c after all.

I t was only a b o u n d a n d sleep-

T h e e x p e r i e n c e of L i e u t e n a n t L y n c h ,

when it was black with gloom and s h a k e n by a hurricane, and from which his a d v e n t u r o u s crew only e s c a p e d destruction as by a hair's-breadth, might h a v e served as a s u b j e c t for the pencil of G u s t a v e D o r e , or for a scene in t h e " I n f e r n o " of D a n t e . T h e r e was o n e spot far d o w n on t h e western side of this m e l a n c h o l y sea, to which we felt ourselves almost irresistibly drawn.

T h i s was t h e g a r d e n of Engedi, m e m o r a b l e in the

r e c o r d s of D a v i d ' s youthful heroism.

W a s that the beautiful

oasis on which a stream of light was n o w falling, as if it were carrying down to it s o m e of heaven's " selectest influences " i I t is a lofty plateau m a n y h u n d r e d feet a b o v e the n e i g h b o u r i n g lake.

A n o b l e f o u n t a i n gushes forth f r o m it, a n d after spread-

ing v e r d u r e a n d b e a u t y all a r o u n d it, d e s c e n d s in a succession of c a s c a d e s to the salt sea so far b e n e a t h .

F o r two centuries

before the a d v e n t of our R e d e e m e r , a n d for s o m e ages after, it had b e e n the quiet retreat of the Essenes, the purest a n d m o s t b e n i g n a n t sect of E a s t e r n ascetics a n d mystics t h a t h a d ever withdrawn f r o m the world.

While c h a r g e a b l e with the c o m -

m o n mistakes of all r e c l u s e s , — t h a t of m a k i n g light of the divine

MONASTERY

OF MAR

SABA.

195

institution of the family, a n d with c o n f o u n d i n g isolation from their race with separation from evil,—these m e n were neither idle n o r selfish.

C l o t h e d in white g a r m e n t s , the e m b l e m of

that inward sanctity which they sought, these a m i a b l e a n c h o r i t e s mingled meditation a n d worship with earnest work.

T h e y cul-

tivated gardens, e x t r a c t e d healing simples f r o m the h e r b s t h a t grew a r o u n d t h e m ,

sought to a c q u i r e skill in surgery,

m o t e d health in their c o m m u n i t y by strict a t t e n t i o n

pro-

to the

m a x i m s of t e m p e r a n c e a n d cleanliness, a n d sent little colonies o u t from their society t o practise t h e healing art, n o t only into the n e i g h b o u r i n g regions, b u t as far westward as the b a n k s of the Nile.

W e r e n o t these s o m e of the children of the dawn,

who were waiting to welcome the fully risen S u n ?

One

is

curious to k n o w w h e t h e r they ever held intercourse with Christ, or with his great f o r e r u n n e r dwelling in the desert n o t far oft", whose m e a t was locusts a n d wild h o n e y ! are silent on this question.

T h e gospel histories

But C h u r c h history informs us that,

before t h e s e c o n d century, this interesting p e o p l e f o u n d all their vague longings satisfied in t h e c o m m u n i o n of Christian believers. W e were to s p e n d the e v e n i n g of this long d a y at the M o n astery of M a r Saba, which was s o m e hours distant, a n d it was m o r e t h a n time to turn away from t h e sad, silent shore.

The

way was even m o r e steep and d a n g e r o u s t h a n t h a t of our morning ride, while the h e a t of the sickly region took all energy out of us.

I t s e e m e d almost an u n d u e h a z a r d i n g of life to ride far

u p a l o n g t h e s t e e p sides of a m o u n t a i n with r o a d s that scarcely supplied a foothold for the a n t e l o p e , a n d from which you looked d o w n into a gorge that was d a r k at n o o n d a y f r o m its narrowness and d e p t h .

U g l y black

lizards and slimy

b a s k e d in the rays of that sun of

fire.

centipedes

A t length we got into

t h e line of the K i d r o n , from which we k n e w t h a t we were on t h e right course to the c o n v e n t which was to b e our welcome goal for t h e night.

L o o k i n g down u p o n the rocky sides of the

[)

Aright not those fifty able-bodied [ •')

198

BIBLICAL

ILLUSTRA

TIO.YS.

ecclesiastics have done something to effect a friendship with the Bedouins as well as with the birds, and to give them at least the elements of k n o w l e d g e 1

It is said that there are

30,000 Ishmaelites, dwellers in tents, from Syria to the banks of the Nile, w h o are utterly ignorant, and truly " wild men." Our last experience of M a r Saba, however, was a pleasant one. A s we lay awake in our tent far b e y o n d midnight, unable to sleep from the too great excitement of the previous day, the bell of the convent rung through the wilderness with such a sweet, solemn, heavenly sound as raised our thoughts upward, and brought to our recollection those lines of H e r b e r t : — " S w e e t e s t of sweets, I thank y o u ; w h e n displeasure D i d through m y body wound my mind, Y o u t o o k m e t h e n c e , a n d in y o u r h o u s e o f p l e a s u r e A d a i n t y l o d g i n g me a s s i g n e d . "

Our journey to Jerusalem next morning, along the V a l l e y , had little about it of adventure.

Kidron

But we met

with

some things that added to our stores of Biblical illustration. A t o n e point, we came upon a large village of nomade Bedouins, dwelling in their black tents.

F o r the first time, we encountered

a shepherd playing on his reeden pipe and followed b y his flock.

H e was leading them to a fountain from which a maiden

was, meanwhile, drawing water with a rope, and pouring it into a

large

stone trough.

She

was

not

quite so beautiful

as

Rebecca. In the afternoon of the same day, we bade a last farewell to Jerusalem.

XII. I t

Jacob's

©ell.

/'rearing to tea:e Jerusalem—The caralaitie—Farnvetl—The city's resurrection— Enjoyment—Lodges in vineyards [ Isa. i. 8J—Watch-towers [I.uke xiv. s8¡—lie the t —Site of ancient Bethel—Abraham's migrations—Interview -with Lot—Minute accuracy [Gen. xiii. 10]—Jacob's dream [Gen. xxviii, 15]—Jacob's filiar [Gen. xxviii. 1 .S-2?]—Jeroboam's rival temple—Prophecy 0/ Amos v. 5—Site and scenery of At I Josh. vlii. 20]—Ride to Shiloh —Means of identifying it—Solitariness—Sacredness — //annah, Samuel, and Eli [r Sam. ¡.-¡v.]—Stolen luizrs [Judges ,\xi. 11—(hi to dye ha r—Unspent blessing of Jacob [Gen. xlix. 22-26)—Adventure—Jacob's Il'cil— Defaced condition—Causes—Topographical notices [Gen. xxxiii. 19]—Questions— Mausoleum of Joseph [Josh. sxiv. 32]—Jesus at Jacob's vell—Gcrizim; "this mountain" [John iv. 21]—/'lain of Machima [John iv. 35J—/¡canty of the region— I'anaticism of the people—V»expected ~tricóme.

E T E R our early morning ride from the Convent of M a r Saba, we spent some busy hours in preparing for our final departure from Jerusalem, which we were to leave in the afternoon.

Our party had now been increased to

eleven, and we had engaged a permanent dragoman to conduct us from Jerusalem to Beyrout, and to supply us with provisions, tents, horses, mules, and servants,—with

everything, in fact,

that was necessary for tent-life and for a pilgrimage of many weeks in the East.

We found it expedient to have a regular

contract with our dragoman, which should be subscribed by both of us, and sealed in presence of the British Consul with his own seal and o u r s ; the arrangement being, that one half of the stipulated sum should be paid him at once, and the other half at the conclusion of the journey if it should be found that he had honestly kept by his engagement.

Every week's experi-

200

THE

CAVALCADE.

e n c e showed us the wisdom of this course.

E v e n when

the

A r a b might b e t e m p t e d to trifle with his s p o k e n promises, he pays great respect to the same p r o m i s e when h e has sealed it witli his own s e a l ; a n d the whole a r r a n g e m e n t b e i n g a wonderful help to a t r e a c h e r o u s m e m o r y , p r e v e n t e d endless disputes, a n d gave us m u c h greater security t h a n we should otherwise have h a d for the g o o d b e h a v i o u r of our guide. A s we w e n d e d our way t h r o u g h the M o s l e m q u a r t e r of the city a n d

passed

northward

through

the Damascus-gate,

we

p r e s e n t e d a r a t h e r f o r m i d a b l e a p p e a r a n c e , our fifteen servants enlarging o u r party to twenty-six.

There

were

thirty-seven

horses, mules, a n d d o n k e y s b e a r i n g our eight tents, our cookingapparatus, our luggage, and the g r e a t e r part of our provisions for m a n y weeks ; so t h a t N i j i m , our chief d r a g o m a n , curvetting on his rather sprightly A r a b steed in front of our cavalcade, and aware that h e h a d m a d e a good bargain for himself that would leave him a c o n s i d e r a b l e margin of profit when he r e a c h e d his h o m e in Beyrout, showed an e x c u s a b l e a m o u n t of self-satisfaction. M e n h a v e often r e m a r k e d on the sadness that c a m e over their spirit when they were looking on s o m e interesting or sacred o b j e c t for the last time.

W e r e m e m b e r how

eloquently r e c o r d s this e x p e r i e n c e when look at

Mount Ararat,—that

humanity.

old

Kitto

taking his farewell

harbour

of

our

wrecked

W e were thus s a d d e n e d into silence when, turning

r o u n d at a s h a r p angle on t h e road at s o m e distance northward, we believed ourselves to b e taking o u r last glance at Jerusalem.

W h e n we h a d first looked on it s o m e weeks before,

its marvellously c h e q u e r e d history h a d rapidly passed b e f o r e our m i n d like the scenes in a p a n o r a m i c picture, a n d now we stood trying to forecast its future.

W e r e all the u n a c c o m p l i s h e d

oracles in which the n a m e of J e r u s a l e m a p p e a r e d , to b e interp r e t e d in a spiritual sense as referring to the C h u r c h of Christ 1 Would n o t this captive d a u g h t e r of Zion yet arise, and shine,.

THE

CITY'S

K'ESUA'RECTI

OX.

201

and shake oft" her dust, and again put on her beautiful garments Would not the place where the gospel seeds were first sown, b e c o m e the granary and treasure-house of their richest fruits ? It seems certain that the Jews shall one clay return to their own land and capital, and that this return is somehow to be associated with the taking away of their thick veil of unbelief and their conversion to C h r i s t ; and what will Palestine and Jerusalem b e c o m e when risen Israel comes back to her own.

Per-

haps that old gray shrunken city may b e c o m e the meeting-place of all the Churches from all lands, and the glory of the whole earth.

W e are certain of the spiritual resurrection of the Tew ;

we hope even for the material restoration of Jerusalem. " O h lh.it some angel m i ^ h t a t r u m p e t s o u n d , At which the C h u r c h , falling upon h e r face, Should c r y so loud until t h e t r u m p w e r e d r o w n e d , A n d by t h a t c r y , of h e r d e a r I.ord obtain T h a t your sweet sap m i g h t c o m e again ! "

We were to rest that evening at Bethel, and as it was more than three hours distant from Jerusalem, all our time would be needed to reach it before sunset.

But it was a pleasant journey.

T h e r e was something exhilarating in the cooler air after the sultry atmosphere of the Jericho plains and the shores of the Dead Sea from which we had come.

We were pleased, too, at

the novelty and adventure of the wandering tent-life on which we were now entering in earnest.

T h e n our dragoman was

garrulous and communicative, a n d much inclined to give his scanty vocabulary of English words a good a i r i n g ; and we in turn had many things to ask of him which it was useful to know as early as possible on our journey.

While our way led

frequently past gardens and orchards that contrasted pleasantly with the parched mountain-sides of the J u d e a n desert, and the narrow sombre streets of the old city which we had left behind us. It was on this road that our attention was first drawn

to

those lodges or booths in gardens and vineyards to which allu-

LODGES AXD

202

WATCH-TOWERS.

sion is m a d e , m o r e t h a n once, in the p r o p h e t i c

Scriptures.

T h e y s t a n d on elevated places, a n d are c o m p o s e d of r u d e poles interwoven with the leafy b r a n c h e s of t r e e s , — a coarse sometimes withers.

serving

the purpose

of the foliage, which

D u r i n g the fruit-seasons, a solitary person,

mat soon

usually

old or decrepit, is placed in t h e m , for t h e p u r p o s e of w a t c h i n g against the d e p r e d a t i o n s of thieves or animals, a n d giving the alarm to stronger men.

N o t h i n g could h a v e b e e n m o r e

fitly

c h o s e n by a p r o p h e t as t h e e m b l e m of instability, or of desolation and desertion, t h a n o n e of those miserable sheds.

I t was,

therefore, with a true poet's eye t h a t I s a i a h used it as the vivid picture of J u d a h when wasted, forsaken, a n d

depopulated:

" T h e d a u g h t e r of Zion shall b e left as a lodge in a g a r d e n of cucumbers."

T h e watch-towers in the midst of t h e vineyards

which we occasionally saw on the s a m e j o u r n e y , are of a m u c h m o r e e l a b o r a t e a n d stable construction, b e i n g built of stone, and s o m e t i m e s rising to the height of forty or fifty feet, so as to c o m m a n d from their summit, w h e r e the w a t c h sits, t h e whole of the s u r r o u n d i n g country.

D u r i n g t h e busy weeks of the

vintage-season, t h e greater n u m b e r of t h e workers dwell in the hollow interior of these watch-towers.

But it is n o t every

proprietor of a vineyard that can afford to erect such expensive structures.

If h e b e a p r u d e n t m a n , h e will " sit down

and c o u n t the cost."

first

O u r L o r d was therefore, a c c o r d i n g to his

c u s t o m , taking a d v a n t a g e of c o m m o n

observation to extract

from it his higher lessons, w h e n h e e m p l o y e d t h e m a n " w h o had b e g u n to build a tower a n d was n o t able to finish it," as t h e representative of foolish and short-sighted improvidence. J u s t while t h e sun was setting, we rapidly pitched our tents on a grassy plot in a hollow valley on the margin of the site of a n c i e n t Bethel, with its surrounding p a s t u r e - g r o u n d s . could yet

see at s o m e

little d i s t a n c e

Beitun, the

We

modern

Bethel, a M o s l e m town built on a narrow shelving g r o u n d between two valleys, a n d with a few tail waving p a l m s inter-

203

BETHEL.

spersed a m o n g its white houses a n d d o m e s , which help to m a k e it picturesque.

T h e n a m e of Bethel h a d a mighty c h a r m for

us, a n d we were i m p a t i e n t to visit it ; b u t the silvery stars were already marshalling fast in the sky a b o v e us, a n d we must b e c o n t e n t to wait until the early morning, ere we walked over those scenes which had long a g o b o r n e the footprints n o t only of patriarchs a n d seers, b u t of m o r e heavenly visitants.

We

shrink from o b t r u d i n g our m o r e private religious services u p o n t h e n o t i c e of our readers.

I t is e n o u g h to say that from this

evening onwards, t h r o u g h all our journeyings, t h e voice of u n i t e d prayer went u p nightly from m o r e than o n e of our tents to the " G o d of Bethel." Soon after sunrise on the following morning, we h a d climbed u p to the table-land where was t h e site of a n c i e n t Bethel.

A

m o r e m o d e r n town m u s t h a v e b e e n built on it since, for over a c o n s i d e r a b l e e x t e n t of g r o u n d there are the distinct traces of Christian architecture, a n d even of medieval

sculpture,—there

is a half-ruined Greek church a m o n g o t h e r s ; but, mingling with these, there are t h e equally u n m i s t a k a b l e f r a g m e n t s of older f o u n d a t i o n s a n d structures, revealing the ruins of o n e of the oldest and most sacred cities in the world. A s we w a n d e r e d over m a n y acres of this region, everything we saw was in perfect h a r m o n y with those various p a r t s of O l d T e s t a m e n t story of which Bethel a n d its n e i g h b o u r h o o d were the scene.

T h e pasture-ground was unusually rich—wild flowers

mingling in a b u n d a n c e with the nutritious grass, a n d supplying food t o n u m e r o u s flocks of s h e e p and goats.

Nothing could

b e m o r e natural than that A b r a h a m , in his various migrations, should more than o n c e have tarried

long in such a region,

especially when he f o u n d that its water-supply was quite as a b u n d a n t as its pasturage.

I n o n e place two vigorous foun-

tains s e n d forth their bright streams, to which w o m e n from the neighbouring town were c o m i n g forth on that very m o r n i n g with pitchers on their heads, to draw water.

W a s it at all un-

204

ABRAHAM

AND

LOT.

likely that Sarah and her maidens had many a time plunged their pitchers into those very springs ?—or that that large ruined cistern which was supplied from those fountains, and which bore the marks of very ancient

H e b r e w masonry, was the

favourite place to which Abraham and his shepherds brought their sheep and oxen, and asses and camels, to drink?

I t must

also have been somewhere hereabouts that, when the flocks and herds of A b r a h a m and Lot had so much increased that even this luxuriant pasture-land was too narrow to sustain them both, A b r a h a m proposed a friendly separation between them, and gave Lot his choice of all the surrounding region as far as the eye could reach.

" T h e n , " we are told, " Lot lifted up his

eyes, and beheld all the plain of J o r d a n , that it was well watered everywhere, before the Lord destroyed Sodorp and Gomorrah, even as the garden of the Lord, like the land of Egypt, as thou comest unto Zoar."

Now the plain of J o r d a n is not generally

visible from this Bethel table-land : but there is one grassy mound of some height on which one can stand at this day, and, looking eastward, can clearly trace the verdant margin of some miles in breadth through which the J o r d a n flows, and by whose waters its fertile holms are irrigated ; and its grassy exuberance is only equalled at this day by the glorious vegetation which, less than a month before, we had delighted to trace from the tops of the Pyramids, skirting as with a line of emerald the b a n k s of the Nile.

A n d may we not imagine the majestic

patriarch standing with his less magnanimous nephew on this very mount, when Lot accepted his uncle's generous conditions, ajid m a d e choice of that well-watered plain which afterwards cost him so dear ? Large stones arc scattered in profusion over m a n y parts of this pasture-land in the midst of which old Bethel once stood ; and many a travelling Bedouin at this day makes a pillow of them, and sleeps soundly when his eyes have b e c o m e weary of gazing up into the midnight sky.

T h e r e was therefore no un-

JACOB'S

205

DREAM.

l i k e l i h o o d in the w e a r i e d J a c o b , w h e n he w a s

flying

f r o m the

r e s e n t m e n t o f his b r o t h e r E s a u , m a k i n g a b e d o f t h o s e and

flowers,

a n d p i l l o w i n g his h e a d o n o n e o f t h o s e

herbs

smooth

b o u l d e r s w h i c h lay all a r o u n d h i m r e a d y for his p u r p o s e . w h a t a d r e a m w a s his ! heaven—the

A

ladder

glory of Jehovah

stretching

visible at its

from earth

But to

summit—bright

a n g e l s a s c e n d i n g a n d d e s c e n d i n g o n its g o l d e n steps — a n d a voice

from the

midst

of

the excellent glory, addressing

the

e n t r a n c e d d r e a m e r in w o r d s o f p r o m i s e a n d c o m f o r t , that inc l u d e d in t h e m e v e r y article a n d b l e s s i n g o f t h e o l d c o v e n a n t . A n d , as g o o d F u l l e r o n c e said, " It m a t t e r s n o t h o w h a r d our b e d , if so h e a v e n l y our d r e a m s . " e a r t h l y g r o w t h or fashion.

T h a t was a dream of no

I t was, in fact, a bright p a g e of

divine r e v e l a t i o n ; for G o d , w h o h a s e m p l o y e d d i v e r s m a n n e r s o f c o m m u n i c a t i n g with m e n , a c c o r d i n g t o their

circumstances

a n d m e n t a l state, c h o s e d r e a m s a n d v i s i o n s as t h e earliest of t h e m all.

I t assured J a c o b of t h e m i n u t e n e s s a n d t h e c o n -

s t a n c y o f p r o v i d e n t i a l c a r e ; it s y m b o l i z e d

the m e d i a t i o n

of

J e s u s C h r i s t , w h i c h is G o d ' s w a y t o us, a n d o u r w a y t o G o d , b y w h i c h a c c e s s h a s b e e n o p e n e d for our p e r s o n s a n d into

the g r a c i o u s

divinely-inspired

presence

of

the

dream, dreamed

sward, c o m m a n d e d

Highest. somewhere

How on

prayers has

this

that grassy

the h o m a g e o f all the arts, a n d

mingled

from the b e g i n n i n g w i t h t h e p a i n t i n g a n d the p o e t r y , t h e archit e c t u r e a n d the sculpture, not to say the m u s i c a n d the e l o q u e n c e , of Christendom ! M a n y a y e a r a f t e r w a r d s , J a c o b r e t u r n e d to this s a m e m e m o r a b l e s p o t to fulfil the v o w w h i c h h e h a d m a d e o n t h e

morning

w h e n t h e p l a c e h a d b e e n t o h i m as " the g a t e o f h e a v e n , " — rearing an altar t o the L o r d o n the pillar w h i c h h e h a d a n o i n t e d , a n d on w h i c h his h e a d h a d rested w h e n h e d r e a m e d his g r e a t dream.

T h a t pillar in d u e t i m e b e c a m e a s a n c t u a r y , a n d the

s a n c t u a r y b e c a m e s u r r o u n d e d b y a l a r g e city, w h e r e the tribes o f t e n h e l d their stated a s s e m b l i e s w h e n the J u d g e s ruled.

IJut

206

THE RIVAL

TEMPLE.

how did Bethel's gold at length b e c o m e d i m !

When Jeroboam

revolted a n d f o r m e d his n o r t h e r n k i n g d o m , he e r e c t e d in Bethel, at t h e s o u t h e r n e x t r e m i t y of his rebel territory, o n e of his golden calves, a n d p l a c e d a t e m p l e over it that should rival in magnitude and

outward

splendour

that of J e r u s a l e m .

We

never got an a d e q u a t e impression of the b o l d impiety of this act until, l o o k i n g s o u t h w a r d while we were w a n d e r i n g over t h e site of Bethel, we u n e x p e c t e d l y saw J e r u s a l e m , with its M o s q u e of O m a r a n d a large p o r t i o n of its n o r t h e r n a n d eastern wall, clearly outlined before us in the m o r n i n g l i g h t

I t then ap-

p e a r e d that J e r o b o a m ' s rival t e m p l e h a d b e e n placed defiantly within sight of J e h o v a h ' s own temple, a n d t h e city where h e had chosen t o record his n a m e .

A p r o p h e t of the L o r d had

stood in J e r o b o a m ' s presence, a n d at t h e h a z a r d of his life h a d foretold t h e destruction of the rebel a l t a r ; an e a r t h q u a k e , as h e spake, r e n d i n g it in two, a n d giving terrific s a n c t i o n t o his words of d o o m .

T h r e e h u n d r e d years after, t h e pious y o u n g

J o s i a h came, razed t h e altar to the g r o u n d , bruised its s t o n e s to powder, a n d polluted t h e place on which it s t o o d , b y b u r n i n g on it the b o n e s of those false priests w h o h a d ministered b e f o r e it.

M e a n w h i l e t h e p r o p h e t A m o s h a d p r o n o u n c e d the b u r d e n

of t h e d e g e n e r a t e c i t y — " Bethel shall c o m e to n o u g h t ; " a n d in those scattered ruins a m i d which t h e g o a t s were

peacefully

browsing, a n d in those old vaulted f o u n d a t i o n s which h a d b e e n the u n d i s t u r b e d h a u n t of owls a n d j a c k a l s for so m a n y centuries, we read for t h e h u n d r e d t h time in P a l e s t i n e t h a t " n o t o n e word which G o d h a t h spoken shall fall to t h e g r o u n d . " W e k n e w that t h e site of Ai lay s o u t h w a r d n o t far off, for t h e careful e x a m i n a t i o n of V a n d e V e l d e h a d raised into high probability t h e c o n j e c t u r e t h a t the Tell-el-hajar of t h e natives a n s w e r e d exactly to all t h e r e q u i r e m e n t s of the Scripture narrative r e s p e c t i n g Ai.

It is worthy of notice t h a t t h e very n a m e ,

" the m o u n t of the h e a p of stones," c o r r e s p o n d s with what the sacred story says of it after its destruction : " A n d J o s h u a b u r n t

SITE

AND SCENERY

OF A I.

207

Ai, and made an heap of it for ever, a desolation unto this day."

Was this descriptive name branded on its calcined ruins

in Joshua's time, and has it lived through all the changes of thousands of years, during which it has been rebuilt and has perished a g a i n ]

It would have been interesting to trace, with

our open Bible in our hand, the scene of the ambush of Joshua's men when they lay concealed from the unsuspecting Aites, and to mark the spot where the H e b r e w leader stood with spear in hand, silently directing by well-understood signs the movements of both parts of his army, until the flaming city assured him of a second victory.

But the morning was ad-

vancing ; our dragoman was impatient; and the way was far to Sychar, which we must by all means reach before nightfall, and where we had determined to keep Sabbath on the following day.

A n d Shiloh, not exceeded in sacred interest even by

Bethel, was to be visited by us on our way northward, though it lay some distance out of our course. It was a delightful ride of three hours and a half to the ruins of this old sanctuary, which for so many centuries had been holy ground.

I n many places the country was finely undulat-

ing and even hilly, but on the hilly slopes there were gardens of the olive, the fig, and the mulberry tree often reaching to the summit.

T h e s e were walled and terraced with some industry

and skill, and men in considerable numbers were clearing the ground of weeds and doing other services of a cheerful husbandry.

We seemed to ourselves to have been brought nearet

home by such homely s i g h t s ; and yet more, when we beheld the wild thyme, the wild rose, and the honeysuckle which here and there carpeted our path, and appeared to look upon us lovingly, like old familiar faces.

But there were many other

flowers in that rich region which were quite new to us both in form and c o l o u r ;

some of them of rare beauty, which

we

dismounted to gather and take home with us to Scotland ; though sometimes at the risk of losing our impatient

Arab

20S

S H I LO i l .

s t e e d , whose l a t e n t t a s t e for b o t a n y had e v i d e n t l y n e v e r

been

developed. A f t e r t h r e e hours, we diverged from t h e m a i n path to visit the ruins o f S h i l o h .

T r a v e l l e r s with the B i b l e as their guide-

b o o k , s h o u l d h a v e n o difficulty in identifying t h e s p o t ; for n o t o n l y d o e s t h e m o d e r n n a m e o f t h e p l a c e , S i l o or S i l o a n , h a n g o u t a g u i d i n g light, b u t t h e t o p o g r a p h i c a l n o t i c e s o f it in t h e B o o k o f J u d g e s a r e s o r e m a r k a b l y s p e c i f i c as to leave y o u in a b s o l u t e c e r t a i n t y a b o u t its locality.

W e a r e told that S h i l o h ,

t h e r e s t i n g - p l a c e o f t h e a r k in t h e days o f t h e J u d g e s , was " on the n o r t h side o f B e t h e l , on t h e east side o f t h e highway t h a t g o e t h up from B e t h e l t o S h e c h e m , a n d on t h e south o f L e b o n a h . ' ' T h i s fixes S h i l o h a s s t a n d i n g s o m e w h e r e b e t w e e n B e t h e l

and

L e b o n a h on t h e c o m m o n r o u t e to S h e c h e m , — n o t , h o w e v e r , on t h e very highway, b u t s o m e w h a t t o t h e right as you j o u r n e y northward.

Our

experience

exactly

corresponded

with

this.

A f t e r travelling for t h r e e h o u r s in a n o r t h e r l y d i r e c t i o n

from

B e t h e l , we t u r n e d a s i d e o n t h e right t o t h e ruin c a l l e d

Silo,

after visiting w h i c h we c a m e b a c k t o t h e old r o a d .

S o o n after

this, we p a s s e d on t h e left E l - L e b b a n , t h e L e b o n a h o f Scripture, a n d

proceeded

straight

on

o u r way t o

Nablous — the

S h e c h e m o f the Old T e s t a m e n t , the Sychar of the New,

the

Flavia Neapolis of R o m a n conquest. O u r b y - p a t h s o o n b r o u g h t us i n t o a g l e n o r valley, a t

the

e x t r e m i t y o f w h i c h was an e m i n e n c e o f s o m e h e i g h t which we a s c e n d e d a m i d tall grass a n d t a n g l e d s h r u b s , — f i n d i n g on

its

s u m m i t what s e e m e d a half-ruined and roofless m o s q u e , w h i c h was c o v e r e d a n d s h a d e d b y a Syrian o a k with e n o r m o u s b r a n c h e s w h o s e l e a v e s were beautiful a n d fresh with t h e earliest g r e e n ot spring.

As t h e o a k r o s e h i g h e r t h a n t h e m o s q u e , we c l i m b e d

t h e wall, and, u n d e r t h e w e l c o m e s h a d o w o f t h e old tree, t o o k a survey o f t h e w h o l e s u r r o u n d i n g region.

I t was

mountainous

on every side, b u t t h e hills h a d e v e r y w h e r e a p a r c h e d a n d white l o o k a b o u t t h e m , the b a r e l i m e s t o n e r o c k protruding in

many

SO/. ITA

209

RIXESS.

p l a c e s ; though it was easy, through our g l a r e s ,

to discover

signs that in earlier days they had been terraced a n d cultivated to their highest points, and that the w h o l e district must at one period h a v e been c o v e r e d with verdure and enriched with the choicest fruits.

T h e r e was, i n d e e d , an almost oppressive silence

and solitude about the place, for we did not hear a

human

voice, nor were we able to trace a single village within our whole range of vision.

H o w different it must h a v e b e e n in

those ages w h i c h immediately chosen

followed the entrance of the

p e o p l e into the promised

land!

At

this place,

the

tribes of Israel assembled to receive from Joshua, in the presence of E l e a z a r the high priest and other heads of the nation, their allotments of the territory which had just been c o n q u e r e d from the Canaanites, as we find recorded in the B o o k of Joshua, that wonderful " d o o m s d a y b o o k " wealth.

of the

Hebrew

common-

T o this selected spot, also, the ark of G o d had

been

borne up from Gilgal on the plains of Jericho, immediately after the conquest, and placed within its curtained t a b e r n a c l e ; and here it had rested through four centuries, nearly up to the beginning of the H e b r e w monarchy.

T h i s formed the grand distinc-

tion of Shiloh a b o v e all other places in the land, that it was so long the ecclesiastical metropolis of Israel, the earthly dwellingplace of H i m w h o m even the h e a v e n of h e a v e n s c o u l d

not

contain, the centre-point of Jewish worship, the annual gathering-place of the u n b r o k e n tribes, to which they c a m e up to k e e p holy festival unto the Lord. It

seemed

to us far from unlikely that this e m i n e n c e

on

which we were then resting was the actual site of the tabernacle, and that the dwellings of the priests and the other

sacred

personages may h a v e clustered along its sides d o w n into the valleys beneath.

S o m e travellers of distinction h a v e declared

t h e m s e l v e s unable to discover any fitness in the selection of this spot and region as the seat of the tabernacle, and centre of the ritual services of the H e b r e w s .

the

T h e r e has been

SACRED.VESS.

2tO

a

flippancy

of r e m a r k

on

this subject

that

has offensively

savoured of irreverence, a n d that h a s t o o m u c h r e m i n d e d us of t h e u n d e v o u t a s t r o n o m e r w h o criticized the planetary system which h e did n o t u n d e r s t a n d .

E v e n when we are n o t able to

discern t h e reasons of a divine a r r a n g e m e n t , it would b e utter p r e s u m p t i o n in us to affirm that it was not, after all, the best. But as we l o o k e d a r o u n d us, we imagined that we could see m o r e than o n e reason why this Sliiloh was, for so long a period, t h e chosen spot w h e r e " G o d should place his n a m e there." It has b e e n r e m a r k e d that it stood as n e a r as possible to t h e c e n t r e of t h e k i n g d o m , a n d was t h e r e f o r e t h e m o s t c o n v e n i e n t for access b y all the tribes, even for those on the eastern side of J o r d a n .

T h e n supposing the t a b e r n a c l e to h a v e crowned

this e m i n e n c e , it could easily b e seen from every point in t h e s u r r o u n d i n g country, even from afar.

I t is encircled by a n

a m p h i t h e a t r e of hills all loftier than i t s e l f ; and when the myriads of worshippers c a m e s t r e a m i n g t o w a r d s it at the seasons of sacred festival, from every c o r n e r of t h e land, we m a y imagine t h e m to have pitched their tents on those mountain-sides, so that their straining eyes c o u l d at any m o m e n t see the place where J e h o v a h c o m m u n e d with his people, a n d the mysterious glory s h o n e a b o v e the mercy-seat.

As the place, moreover,

was evidently designed to b e a school of the p r o p h e t s , where holy m e n might pursue their studies in quietness, t h e r e was wisdom in the a r r a n g e m e n t that this college of seers and sacred teachers should s t a n d aloof from the c o m m o n t h o r o u g h f a r e , a n d that its " c a l m retreat and silent s h a d e " should afford a ready refuge for such as were longing for " a closer walk with God."' W e could n o t forget, as we sat b e n e a t h t h e s h a d o w of that v e n e r a b l e oak, that s o m e of the most beautiful a n d t o u c h i n g Old T e s t a m e n t pictures m u s t have h a d their s c e n e n e a r to where we were then resting.

H i t h e r H a n n a h , that " w o m a n of

a sorrowful spirit," h a d c o m e t o plead within G o d ' s own sanctuary, that h e would take away h e r r e p r o a c h ; a n d hither, four

SUBLIME

SUBMISSION.

211

years afterwards, she h a d r e t u r n e d a grateful m o t h e r , leading h e r infant Samuel, " a s k e d of the L o r d , " to a c k n o w l e d g e answered prayers, a n d to p e r f o r m h e r vows in giving u p her son to the life-long service of the tabernacle.

H e r e the w o n d r o u s

p r o p h e t - b o y had found within those hallowed precincts a yet b e t t e r h o m e than hers, h a d b e e n visited in his holy c h i l d h o o d by h e a v e n l y visions, a n d sent o n awful messages t h a t must even h a v e m a d e the lips of age to quiver.

Within that cur-

tained h o u s e h e h a d daily " P o u t e d t o w a r d s t h e k i n d l i n g skies H i s clcar a d o r i n g melodies,"

a n d h a d grown u p to b e t h e greatest, t h e m o s t incorruptible, a n d the last of Israel's J u d g e s .

A n d how distinctly t h e con-

t e m p o r a r y picture of aged Eli stood out b e f o r e us, with c o u n t e n a n c e so m a j e s t i c a n d yet so s h a d o w e d a n d s a d , — c l e a r in his m o r a l sense, yet feeble a n d vacillating in his will,—reaping in t h e flagrant sins of his sons t h e bitter reward of his parental i n d u l g e n c e , — i m p e r f e c t a n d yet real a n d true, shining m u c h in his hours of affliction by his sublime submission, and shining m o s t of all in t h e h o u r of d e a t h , when, sitting on a stool a n d leaning against o n e of the posts of the tabernacle, he waited eagerly for the tidings of the conflict b e t w e e n Israel a n d the Philistines,—sorrowed when h e h e a r d t h a t t h e b a t t l e h a d g o n e against his people, sorrowed yet m o r e when h e learned t h a t his ignoble sons had perished in t h e struggle, b u t when h e was told that the ark of the L o r d was t a k e n , o w n e d that this loss to his nation a n d d i s h o n o u r to his G o d was the heaviest stroke of all, and fell clown b r o k e n - h e a r t e d to the earth. A b o u t a q u a r t e r of an h o u r southward from this old restingplace of the tabernacle, t h e r e is a fountain m a k i n g everything green a r o u n d it, which tradition p o i n t s to as t h e scene of a m e m o r a b l e passage in Jewish history, which finds its rough resemblance

in t h e early R o m a n

annals.

Processions

and

sacred d a n c e s largely intermingled themselves with the m o r e

212

UXSPENT

NLESSLYG

OF

JACOB.

devout observances of the annual Jewish feasts.

During one

festival season, multitudes of H e b r e w maidens were engaged in a festal dance on the green-sward around this well, when crowds of Benjamites, concealed in the neighbouring vineyards, suddenly rushed upon them, and bore two h u n d r e d of them away to be their wives.

I t was not an act of guilty passion, but, as it must

have seemed to them, a terrible necessity; and they could plead, at least, in palliation of their deed of violence, that they were encouraged to it by the heads of Israel, and that it saved a whole tribe from ignominious extinction. Passing through a narrow wady, in which we could still see the traces of a winter torrent, we were soon again on the highway to Sychar.

At every mile of our progress northward, the

country improved in beauty and fruitfulness.

Villages were

frequent, cresting some knoll or eminence, or half hidden a m o n g groves of olives; corn-fields dotted the more level p l a c e s ; and little sparkling rills danced and m a d e music across our path. We were now, in fact, in the country of Samaria, and in the old territory of the tribe of Ephraim, the most fertile region in all Palestine.

It was not in vain that the aged Jacob, whose

dying vision " Dili a t t a i n T o something like prophetic strain,"

had p r o n o u n c e d his blessing on the two sons of Joseph, and especially upon Ephraim the younger, giving him " the chief things of the mountains," corn, and vine, and olive, a n d figtree all nourishing in a b u n d a n c e amid those everlasting hills ; for there, far-stretching on our right hand and left, was the unspent virtue of the patriarch's benediction.

It

somewhat

marred our e n j o y m e n t of the rich country and the sunny afternoon, to find two men from a village that we passed suddenlyattempting to seize our horse's bridle, with the evident intention of levying black-mail; but they missed their aim, and cantering off, we did not give them a second opportunity.

A

7 / COB'S

WE I.I. .

2 13

range of hills of considerable height now began to rise before us, at some distance, like a w a l l ; and apparently standing at their eastern extremity,

there was a bright

mountain

that

towered like a giant-sentinel above them a l l ; while beyond, as if terminating a second range, we could see part of another mountain covered with thick shadows, a n d apparently quite as high.

When we heard their n a m e s from our guide, we looked

towards them with d e e p e n e d interest, for these were mounts Gerizim and Ebal, clustering with old historic memories, and between which lay Sycliar, our resting-place for some days to come.

I n an hour after, we were riding through the midst of

tall flowers under the shadow of Gerizim, a n d conducted by our guide to a broad level spot covered with large stones, which looked down on a vast plain that stretched away eastward.

What place was this? we asked of our guide with some

impatience.

It was Jacob's W e l l !

We confess to a temporary feeling of extreme disappointment.

T h e r e was no spot in all Palestine which could so cer-

tainly be c o n n e c t e d with the presence of the incarnate Son of God.

W e could say with undoubting assurance : On this very

spot Jesus had sat and conversed.

F r o m this very point he

had looked forth on the scenes on which we were now looking, which were no doubt unchanged in their g r a n d natural features. But while we knew from the notices of many travellers that the well had been greatly injured, we were not prepared for such a complete defacement of the old picture as this.

We

had

thought of curb-stones around the ancient fountain to which maidens might yet come down at times from Sycliar with their earthen pitchers, and their ropes to draw with, " for the well was d e e p . "

Multitudes of huge stones lay littered and con-

fused all around, some of them broken pillars of granite, which, far back in the days of Kusebius and the Empress H e l e n a , may have supported the basilica that then covered and inclosed the fountain ; and in the centre of all this desolation, there was a U-"-

SCFXF

OF FJ. IJA // S SA

CR1FICF.

h i d e t h e m s e l v e s in t h e t o p of C a r m e l , J e h o v a h will search a n d take them out thence." T o o u r m i n d , L i e u t e n a n t V a n d e Y e l d e has entirely

suc-

c e e d e d in i d e n t i f y i n g " t h e b u r n t p l a c e " as the s c e n e of E l i j a h ' s sublime sacrifice in which t h e question was r e d u c e d to experim e n t , " W h o is t h e G o d

T h e s c e n e p r e s e n t s every c o n d i -

tion which is r e q u i r e d by t h e m i n u t e l y g r a p h i c n a r r a t i v e in the e i g h t e e n t h c h a p t e r of t h e First B o o k of K i n g s .

First, t h e r e

is a vast n a t u r a l a m p h i t h e a t r e , which we m a y i m a g i n e to h a v e b e e n c o v e r e d with m y r i a d s of e a g e r s p e c t a t o r s s u m m o n e d t h e s p o t by t h e a u t h o r i t y of A h a b .

to

T h e n a p l a t f o r m rises a

few feet high t o w a r d s t h e c e n t r e , o n which we m a y

suppose

Klijah t o h a v e r e a r e d his altar, a n d a r o u n d which h e d r e w t h e t r e n c h e s which were a f t e r w a r d s to b e filled with water.

About

two h u n d r e d a n d fifty feet lower d o w n , t h e r e is a large a n d d e e p f o u n t a i n a r c h e d over by an o v e r h a n g i n g rock, a n d f u r t h e r s c r e e n e d f r o m t h e s u n ' s rays by t h e thick foliage of an a n c i e n t oak.

F r o m this t h e water c o u l d easily b e b r o u g h t in barrels

of c o n v e n i e n t size, a n d p o u r e d i n t o t h e t r e n c h e s a n d u p o n t h e a l t a r a n d t h e d r i p p i n g sacrifice.

The

c l i m a x of t h e

scene

arrives when, a f t e r the f r a n t i c Baal priests h a v e for h o u r s inv o k e d their g o d in vain, t h e c a l m a n d solitary E l i j a h , s t e p p i n g forward a n d c o n f r o n t i n g t h e m , p r a y s for t h e divine signal of a c c e p t a n c e , a n d t h e m o m e n t a f t e r w a r d s , t h e awe-stricken t h o u s a n d s , with e x p e c t a t i o n

strained

to t h e u t m o s t , b e h o l d

the

flame d e s c e n d i n g f r o m t h e b l u e h e a v e n a n d c o n s u m i n g at o n c e the sacrifice a n d t h e altar.

T h e K i s h o n flows at t h e foot of

the m o u n t a i n , a n d there, on a g r e e n m o u n d , w h o s e margin is w a s h e d by t h e s t r e a m , a n d w h o s e t r a d i t i o n a l n a m e is " t h e hill of t h e p r i e s t s , " t h o s e ministers of idolatry w h o h a d misled the people, are s l a u g h t e r e d , — t h e i r b l o o d in a few h o u r s to c r i m s o n t h e K i s h o n , when, a f t e r the c o m i n g rain, it rolls again in full current

t o t h e sea.

A f t e r this awful t r a g e d y on t h e river's

brink, Elijah a s c e n d s again to the s c e n e of his great t r i u m p h ,

AI/Airs

CHARIOT.

259

a n d A h a b with him, p r o b a b l y to j o i n in the a c c u s t o m e d feast a f t e r t h e sacrifice.

And now the prophet who had

brought

d o w n fire f r o m h e a v e n b y his prayer, p l e a d s for rain to revive t h e long weary a n d p a r c h e d l a n d ; a n d his s e r v a n t is sent u p t o a loftier e m i n e n c e f r o m which t h e M e d i t e r r a n e a n — t h e q u a r t e r from which t h e r a i n s of P a l e s t i n e c o m e — c a n

b e seen, with

d i r e c t i o n s to r e p o r t t h e earliest sign of t h e c o m i n g blessing. W e f o u n d , on a s c e n d i n g to a higher p o i n t t h a t rose a little t o the west of t h e p l a c e of sacrifice, t h a t t h e M e d i t e r r a n e a n

came

into view in five m i n u t e s , so t h a t it would n o t b e long until the s e v e n t h r e p o r t told of " the little cloud n o bigger than a m a n ' s h a n d " t h a t was rising f r o m t h e sea.

Klijali k n o w s t h e sign

w e l l ; a n d as A h a b ' s c h a r i o t s t a n d s waiting d o w n at t h e b a s e of C a r m e l , t h e p r o p h e t ' s s e r v a n t now b e a r s to him t h e

urgent

r e q u e s t to m a k e h a s t e a l o n g the plain to J e z r e e l , w h o s e we c o u l d dimly descry f r o m " t h e b u r n t place.''

site

Hut why d o e s

the p r o p h e t d e s c e n d the m o u n t a i n also, a n d run all the way beside t h e king's b o u n d i n g c h a r i o t until it e n t e r s t h e p a l a c e gate ?

T h e a c t i o n which m a n y , n o t u n d e r s t a n d i n g , h a v e won-

d e r e d at as lowering t h e p r o p h e t ' s dignity, was a m o s t touching r e v e l a t i o n of his zeal for the L o r d G o d of hosts.

He, no

d o u b t , e x p e c t e d t h a t , after such a direct t e s t i m o n y from H e a v e n , t h e r e would b e an i m m e d i a t e r e n u n c i a t i o n on t h e p a r t of A h a b a n d all his court of t h e worship of idols, a n d a r e s t o r e d allegia n c e t o the true G o d .

T h e terrible d i s a p p o i n t m e n t of the

m o r r o w , w h e n a price was set on his h e a d , d r o v e h i m

into

d e s p o n d e n c y , his life s e e m e d a failure, " h e o n l y was left," a n d he lied into t h e d i s t a n t wilderness a n d wished to die. W h e n we r o d e t h r o u g h

Nazareth to our tents a m o n g the

olives, four h o u r s a f t e r o u r leaving C a r m e l , t h e sun was disappearing behind

t h e highest ridge of t h e m o u n t a i n , a n d

the

m u e z z i n - c r y from t h e t o p of t h e little m o s q u e was calling t h e few M o h a m m e d a n s in N a z a r e t h to prayer.

XV.

M

the s k a of €>alilcc.

f oing to the gra:'C to iveep—/'recession of mourners f j c r . ix. 1 7 ; — / ' ill. ige of Conn Its appearance— Women at the fountain—Scene of the miracle— /'he earthen jo » • J o l m ii. 1 - 1 1 J — P i l g r i m s on their zoay to Jerusale m—Their encampment—Sonc after sunset [IN. ut my

Father

F o r the bread o f G o d

is he which c o m e t h down from heaven and giveth life unto the world." O n e solid gain to sacred archaeology was made by Captain Wilson, in his verifying the usual style and structure of the ancient s y n a g o g u e s ; for they appear to have been constructed according to a c o m m o n plan, and this Capernaum-synagogue gives us a distinct and definite conception of them all.

W e were able

in part to confirm the accuracy o f his description by personal observation, especially by comparison with another ruin, a large portion o f whose walls was yet standing.

I t s form is rectangular,

its largest dimensions being from north to south.

Its interior

is divided into four aisles by four rows of columns, the intercolumnar spaces not being very w i d e ; and the entrance is by three doors opening from the south.

I m a g i n e the form

of

J e s u s moving in the midst o f those tall columns, or the president of the synagogue looking down from his place into that countenance which, without exaggeration or metaphor, might

GADAR.l. have been

2S5

described as " the human face divine."

Modern

discovery has thus dispelled the very c o m m o n illusion that the ancient synagogue was destitute o f all architectural o r n a m e n t ; and it may fairly b e held as having proved that the J e w s of our Lord's times did not interpret the second

commandment

with such an excess of literality as to hold themselves forbidden to m a k e any representation o f o b j e c t s by sculpture, as many of the

more fanatical followers of M o h a m m e d

precept at the present day.

understand

On the Capernaum

the

synagogue

there was also found sculptured what seemed a reed in high relief,

which

was regarded

as

meant

to

represent

Aaron's

rod that budded ; while on the walls and columns of other synagogues there were discovered, elegantly carved, the sevenbranched candlestick, bunches o f grapes, festoons of vine leaves, and even the paschal lamb. Standing on an elevated point among the ruins, and looking through a powerful glass along the eastern side of the lake, it was not difficult, with the help of our dragoman N e j i m , who had explored

the whole region with Wilson, to identify the

district o f Gadara, and even the ruins of Gergesa, the villagecapital o f the district, which the evangelists mention as the scene of the destruction o f the herd of swine.

\Yc believe the

place was first certainly verified through its name by our acute namesake at Ueyrout.

And it is remarkable that, while the

ground is usually level for some distance from the lake, there is one point in the vicinity o f Gergesa where the higher ground protrudes with a rapid slope into the waters, so that it seems certain that this was the steep place down which the maddened brutes ran so violently, and perished in the sea.

It is thus that

careful and patient research is gradually fixing the spots of Biblical interest, and attesting the accuracy of the sacred writers. It has been severely remarked that Urn K e i s s , which in one of our modern dictionaries o f the Bible has been named as the scene o f this extraordinary incident, would have required the

zS6

C/IORAZI.V?

swine to have taken a hard gallop of three miles before tumbling into the lake ! The

same successful explorer discovered two remarkable

tombs at the northern extremity of T e l l - H u m , which still bear the distinct marks of having been " whited sepulchres." A valley passes down to the lake near C a p e r n a u m ; and entering this by what seem the outlines of an ancient street, and moving northward, you c o m e in an h o u r — t h a t is, at two and a half miles d i s t a n t — u p o n another remarkable heap of ruins, to which the natives give the n a m e of Keraseh.

It is the same place

which was mentioned by P o c o c k e long ago as Gerasi, and in later times by Richardson u n d e r the n a m e of C h o r a z i ; and guided by the name, and also by the suitableness of the position, it seems natural to conclude that this is Chorazin, the last in the triplet of woe-stricken cities.

M a n y of its houses, built

of the almost indestructible basalt, were found to be so complete when

excavated, as to afford a very clear

conception

of the plan a n d style of private houses at the time when Christianity

dawned

upon

Palestine.

They

were

generally

square, and varied considerably in s i z e ; the largest thirty f e e t

being

T w o columns, passing down the centre, supported

the roof—which was flat, as in modern houses.

T h e doorway

opened in the centre, and there were several windows about a foot in length and half a foot in width. were divided into four chambers.

T h e larger houses

Is it unlikely that it was

some such house as one of these that formed for a time the earthly dwelling-place of the Saviour of the world ? W e were n o t unwilling, after toiling and stumbling all the morning a m o n g ruins, a n d tearing our way through the midst of thorns and briers, to get out once more into the open country, and to pursue our uninterrupted course to Safed, which was shining on its proud eminence far above us, without a single cloud upon its head.

\Ve had not ridden far when we c a m e upon a

scene which greatly interested us.

We were passing through a

PARABLE

OF THE

287

SOWER.

newly-ploughed field, and " a sower had come forth to sow." E v e r y part of the picture in the parable of the Sower, which our Lord delivered to his disciples down on the margin of the neighbouring lake, was enacted and visible before us.

There

was the beaten path 011 which some particles of seed had fallen, which were speedily picked up by multitudes of wild birds. There was the rocky ground with its thin layer of earth upon it.

A n d here and there were dwarfish thorn-bushes which the

husbandman had not grubbed up, and which, growing with the growth of the corn-stalks among them, would ultimately choke and destroy them.

A n d then there were large patches of deep,

loamy soil which might be expected to yield a various abundance.

Our Lord

could

thus easily have found the whole

drapery of his great parable in the immediate neighbourhood of the spot on which it was spoken, ever linking his spiritual lessons with those familiar doings of common life which occupy " T h e talk M.U1 h o l d s w i t h w e e k - d a y m a n , in t h e h o u r l y w a l k O f the w o r l d ' s b u s i n e s s . "

We reached Safed early in the afternoon, after a toilsome ascent of twelve miles in which every step was a strain upon our patient horses; and we pitched our tents in an olive-garden from which we could look down even upon the lofty mountaincity itself.

The

grand

old citadel,

originally built by

the

Saracens, and which exchanged hands again and again during the varying fortunes of the wars of the Crusaders, is the highest point from which to look out upon the country; but it had been so riven by the terrible earthquake of 1 8 3 7 , and was so inconvenient to ascend, that we preferred leaving it to the vultures which seemed waiting there for another long festival of human blood, and to gaze down upon the immense panorama from Safed itself.

I t commands the most extensive view to be

obtained from any point within the circle of Palestine.

We

were considerably more than two thousand feet above the level

288

SAFED.

of the Galilean lake which we had left in the morning, and fully twelve miles from its s h o r e s ; ami yet, as it spread its bright mirror in placid loneliness, incased in its green framework of hills, it seemed so very near, that we could h a v e imagined an expert slingor to have sent a stone from S a f e d into its waters. It mirrored the graves of buried cities, for T i b e r i a s was the only habitation of living men that we could see upon its shores. F a r in the east were the U a u r a n mountains, wrapped in hazy gloom ; nearer were the green pastoral hills of Gilead.

More

directly southward, familiar objects rose up before us which we had left for e v e r — t h e cone-shaped T a b o r , with little I l e r m o n , and the hills of S a m a r i a b e y o n d the plain of E s d r a e l o n ; and as

the

eye

moved

westward, it fell on the

promontory

wooded G a r m e l , and caught glimpses of the dim shores.

of

Phenician

E v e n in its desolation and d e c a y the words of the

prophet c a m e to our lips, " I I o w beautiful is thy land, O E m manuel."

W e felt that there was a scenic fitness in the J e w i s h

tradition which has fixed on this as the place where the Messiah is to set up his throne, when he c o m e s to take possession of the k i n g d o m of his fathers, and to rule the world. It was impossible to stand where we did and not remember that this very S a f e d had been the scene of one of the most terrific tragedies of modern times, when " G o d arose to shake terribly the earth."

On the evening of the first day of J a n u a r y

1 8 3 7 , this mountain-city was visited by an earthquake swallowed up six thousand human beings in an hour. not a single old house in the modern town.

which

T h e r e is

T h e old houses

were either shivered into fragments, or went down

into that

yawning grave when the stable earth heaved like an angry sea, or was convulsed like s o m e strong creature in its agony.

What

harrowing scenes of half-buried men and women dying and putrefying by slow d e g r e e s ; and of faint voices, heard through the openings and crevices by those shuddering on the surface, who could give them no relief!

But we confess that, in reading the

THE EAR TlIQl 'Ah'E. n a r r a t i v e of t h o s e woes, it was n o t

2S9

the suffering t h a t

most

s h o c k e d us, b u t the e x h i b i t i o n s of h u m a n selfishness a f t e r t h e e a r t h q u a k e h a d d o n e its d r e a d f u l work, w h e n t h e becoming

survivors,

i n d i f f e r e n t to e a c h o t h e r ' s sorrows, c o n t e n d e d

for

t h e t r e a s u r e for which they s e a r c h e d in r e n t s a n d crevices a n d a m o n g r u i n e d buildings, with all t h e ferocity with which t h e wolves a n d

vultures were

horrid b a n q u e t of d e a t h .

meanwhile quarrelling

over

their

T h e d e s p a i r which is t h e effect of

s u d d e n j u d g m e n t s , i n s t e a d of m a k i n g m e n p e n i t e n t , s o m e t i m e s m a k e s t h e m fiendish, as h a s o n c e m o r e b e e n seen in t h e terrible n i n e d a y s of the C o m m u n e in Paris. " T h e r e is no !ove ¡11 m a n ' s o b d u r a t e h e a r t : It does nut feel for man : t h e n a t u r a l bond Of b r o t h e r h o o d is severed as the tl.ix T h a t falls a s u n d e r at the touch of fire."

T h e o n e g l e a m of s u n s h i n e which lighted u p t h a t d o u b l e d a r k ness c a m e f r o m t h e P r o t e s t a n t missionaries a t B e y r o u t ,

who

h a s t e n e d in the d e p t h of winter to t h e s c e n e , a n d with t h e i r e x t e m p o r i z e d h o s p i t a l s r e a r e d b y their own h a n d s , a n d with all t h e a p p l i a n c e s of m e d i c i n e , surgery, a n d cordials, relieved a world of suffering, a n d s h o w e d s o m e t h i n g of the t r u e spirit of the g r e a t H e a l e r w h o s e n a m e t h e y bore. I t is a r e m a r k a b l e fact t h a t t h o u g h Safed is n o t m e n t i o n e d , or e v e n a l l u d e d to, in t h e O l d T e s t a m e n t , a n d it has n o c o n n e c t i o n at a n y p o i n t with a n c i e n t J e w i s h history, it h a s b e c o m e o n e of t h e f o u r sacred cities of t h e J e w s in P a l e s t i n e . s i n c e the e a r t h q u a k e , w h e n nearly all its i n h a b i t a n t s

Even

perished,

J e w s h a v e c r e p t to it f r o m t h e n o r t h e r n s h o r e s of Africa, a n d f r o m every p o i n t in E u r o p e , f r o m Spain t o R u s s i a ; a n d o u t of its p r e s e n t p o p u l a t i o n of six t h o u s a n d , t h r e e t h o u s a n d are und e r s t o o d to be of the h o u s e of Israel, a n d t h e s e o b s e r v e in t h e i r s y n a g o g u e s t h e s a m e d i s t i n c t i o n s of n a t i o n a l i t y as we h a v e s e e n in m o d e r n J e r u s a l e m .

A g o o d l y n u m b e r of t h e m p e r f o r m t h e

work of t h e scribes of old, a n d o c c u p y t h e m s e l v e s in copies of the L a w

making

A n d n o t h i n g can e x c e e d t h e b e a u t y a n d .

290

ME/RON.

scrupulous accuracy of their w o r k m a n s h i p .

Every precaution

is used to secure the m o s t perfect exactness.

E v e r y page must

c o n t a i n the s a m e n u m b e r of lines, a n d every line t h e s a m e n u m b e r of letters.

A single failure in this would vitiate an

entire c o l u m n of the work.

I t is an inherited excellence f r o m

which the J e w s h a v e n e v e r d e g e n e r a t e d since they first b e c a m e the c h o s e n c u s t o d i e r s of t h e oracles of G o d .

A m o n g the many

severe c h a r g e s which Christ b r o u g h t against t h e m as a people, h e n e v e r b l a m e d t h e m with u n f a i t h f u l n e s s to this great trust. T h e i r scrupulosity has, in fact, p a s s e d into s u p e r s t i t i o n ; b u t G o d h a s m a d e even this to praise him. I n all their sacred cities, also, the J e w s a p p e a r to pay a c r e d i t a b l e a t t e n t i o n to t h e e d u c a t i o n of their young. s o m e t i m e in o n e of their schools.

W e spent

T h e old teacher, with his

long white beard, his n o b l e forehead, and n o s e " spectaclebestrid," a p p e a r e d

as if h e h a d walked o u t f r o m a picture

of o n e of the old I t a l i a n masters.

H e used a n iron p o i n t e r

to g u i d e his pupils as they r e a d b e f o r e him, o n e b y one, o u t of the T a l m u d .

T h e h e a d of e a c h pupil was c o v e r e d b y a linen

c a p which fitted closely to it.

A s they read, they s w u n g their

b o d i e s to a n d fro, a n d with a singing a c c e n t that a l m o s t a p proached

to c h a n t i n g ; a n d as often as they b l u n d e r e d , t h e

v e n e r a b l e p e d a g o g u e i n t e r r u p t e d t h e m with an air of w o n d r o u s authority, as if h e were fully conscious t h a t h e was t h e o n e ruler of that little world.

T h e m o r e learned a m o n g their r a b b i n s

have m a n y curious fancies a b o u t their Messiah, which prove t h a t t h e veil over their m i n d s has b e e n r e a d j u s t e d b u t n o t

taken

away. T h e r e was a place of peculiar interest lying in a hilly r e g i o n c o n s i d e r a b l y out of o u r direct way n o r t h w a r d , to which we were t e m p t e d to diverge o n our leaving Safed on t h e following morning.

T h i s was M e i r o n , t h e W e s t m i n s t e r A b b e y of the

Jews, w h e r e a r e shown t h e t o m b s of m a n y of their m o s t illustrious teachers and miracle-workers, s o m e of t h e m dating even

JEWISH

291

CARNIVAL.

earlier than the birth of Christ.

T o us t h e m o s t interesting

a m o n g t h e m a n y sepulchres was t h a t of Ilillel, the h e a d of o n e of the two great rival rabbinical schools that waged their loud logomachies at t h e close of J u d a i s m , and the r e p u t e d g r a n d f a t h e r of that Gamaliel a t w h o s e feet Saul of T a r s u s h a d sat for years as an a r d e n t a n d a d m i r i n g disciple. out of t h e solid rock, a n d was of great size.

I t was cut

But m o r e h o n o u r

s e e m e d to b e p u t on the t o m b s of t h o s e w h o united to their p r o p h e t i c a l office the gift of miracles, and l a m p s were b u r n i n g b e f o r e t h e m day a n d night.

kept

H a d we b e e n a fortnight

later in our visit, we should have witnessed the a n n u a l Jewish carnival at these t o m b s , to which we were told t h o u s a n d s cong r e g a t e in t h e m o n t h of May, c o n v e r g i n g to this r e m o t e m o u n tain-village from a l m o s t every nation u n d e r heaven, and bringing the varied c o s t u m e a n d speech of l a n d s as far a s u n d e r from e a c h o t h e r as t h e e q u a t o r from the poles.

There

is

scarcely a n y t h i n g of t h e n a t u r e of a religious e l e m e n t in these f e s t i v a l s ; the time b e i n g c o n s u m e d in eating a n d drinking, in d a n c i n g a n d m i m i c s w o r d - c o m b a t s p e r f o r m e d to t h e s o u n d oi music a n d t h e c l a p p i n g of h a n d s , a n d n o t u n m i x e d with t h a t levity a n d excess which gave occasion to t h e scathing r e b u k e s which t h e old p r o p h e t s a d d r e s s e d to their fathers.

O n e promi-

n e n t a n d expensive part of the c e l e b r a t i o n is t h e b u r n i n g o gifts, and especially of rich shawls, d i p p e d in oil to m a k e t h e m b u r n t h e m o r e brightly, in h o n o u r of the d e a d . W e were glad to c o m e out at length from t h e d a m p a n d darkness of these old t o m b s into the o p e n air a n d t h e daylight, a n d to turn our faces towards C e s a r e a Philippi, t h e most northerly town in Palestine, which we h o p e d to reach on t h e following day. I n the a f t e r n o o n we c a m e u p o n a p l a c e of m u c h Biblical i n t e r e s t — K e d e s , t h e a n c i e n t K a d e s h - N a p h t a l i , o n e of the royal cities of t h e C a n a a n i t e s , a n d o n e of the six Cities of R e f u g e of the H e b r e w s .

I t stands on a plain, in a c o n s i d e r a b l y elevated

mountain-region, a n d has n e a r it two great

structures m o r e

292

A',/ DESII-XAPI!

T. I I.I.

than half in ruins, displaying so m u c h architectural skill a n d o r n a m e n t as well as freshness, that we should imagine t h e m to have belonged to the period of the R o m a n supremacy.

We

thought of it as the c o n v e n i e n t rallying-point of Iiarak b e f o r e his conflict with J a b i n .

But it was m o r e interesting t o r e m e m -

ber that it was o n e of those sanctuaries which the discriminating h u m a n i t y of t h e old Jewish law provided as a refuge for those who h a d slain a n o t h e r unwittingly.

I t s central position,

and the fact that it was visible f r o m a great d i s t a n c e a n d in almost every direction, ad mirably fitted it for its c o m p a s s i o n ate uses.

W e imagined the terrified man-slayer straining a n d

p a n t i n g along the plain, with the a v e n g e r of b l o o d close o n his steps, a n d the m a n gratefully c o n s c i o u s of safety t h e m o m e n t that h e stood within its open gates. N o t long after leaving K e d e s , our way led through a narrow gorge which was singularly g r a n d a n d solitary. by t h e green margin, a n d s o m e t i m e s in t h e

We rode

p e b b l y b e d , of

a bright j o y o u s s t r e a m , h e m m e d in on either side by richly w o o d e d m o u n t a i n s that rose far into t h e sky a n d s e e m e d to shut out the whole world.

T h e solitude a n d the silence were

extraordinary, t h o u g h they were pleasantly relieved at intervals by the sight of g o a t h e r d s leading their flocks on green

spots,

and m a k i n g rude music to t h e m on their r e e d e n pipes.

It

s e e m e d the very place for a hermit to h i d e himself in from t h e shock of the world's conflicts, with its " b o u n d l e s s of s h a d e . "

contiguity

O t h e r persons had a n t i c i p a t e d us in this j u d g m e n t ;

for n e a r t h e e n t r a n c e to this natural s a n c t u a r y we c a m e u p o n a village with a n u m b e r of peak-roofed cottages, c o n t a i n i n g

a

colony of A r a b s who had fled hither all t h e way f r o m Algiers to escape the d u b i o u s benefits of F r e n c h discipline a n d drill. A few hours' riding on the following m o r n i n g b r o u g h t us u p to a lofty ridge, from which we l o o k e d forth u p o n o b j e c t s that rivetted our a t t e n t i o n .

B e n e a t h us was the extensive plain of

H u l e h , the scene of A b r a h a m ' s rescue of Lot, and of his vie-

THE

IVA r/'KS

OF

lory over the five confederate kings.

MEKOM. It was clown also some-

where in that marshy plain that Joshua, by one of those sudden, impetuous, irresistible onslaughts which were characteristic of his m a n n e r of assault, swept before him with terrible destruction the combined myrmidons under Jabin, king of Ilazor, and in one day secured for Israel the whole of the northern part of Canaan.

At the southern extremity of the valley was the L a k e

of I l u l e h , the Samachonitis of Josephus, the " waters of Mer o m " of Old T e s t a m e n t story ; u n a p p r o a c h a b l e by us because of its dangerous swamps, but the choice refuge of the larger aquatic birds and of almost every wild animal that has its habitat in Palestine.

W e noticed herds of lean buffaloes plunging and

disporting themselves, after their own ungainly fashion, in its mire and a m o n g its rushes.

T h e stork and the heron are there

in their element, and even the pelican is sometimes seen — " I ' y the ruslsy f r h i ^ r d Ijauk W h e r e t;row t h e w i l l o w a m i t h e o s i e r d a n k . "

T h e aromatic reed, the cane, and the calamus a b o u n d in its marshes.

I n the colder m o n t h s of the year the lake shrinks

into the dimensions of a pond, being not more than five hundred paces in circumference.

But in March and the beginning

of April, when the snows on I l e r m o n have begun to melt into innumerable rills, and the different branches of the J o r d a n rush down in brimful channel, it extends to seven miles in width, and covers a large portion of the Iluleh plain.

It is then that

the wild beasts, dislodged from their lairs a m o n g the tall reeds by the sudden increase of the waters, appear in formidable numbers, mightily enraged at being driven from their hidingplace.

O n e meeting a panther, or even a wild boar or a

buffalo, in such circumstances, would have no difficulty in understanding how the picture should have been employed in more than one place in Scripture, as the emblem of mingled rage and s t r e n g t h , — " c o m i n g up as a lion from the swellings of J o r d a n . ' ' T h e figures and allusions in the poetical books of the Bible,

HUN IN.

294

everywhere reflect the scenery and the natural history of Palestine.

T h e y are indelibly stamped upon them, like the old Abra-

hamic features upon the Jew.

T h e y bear the impress of the

Jordan-land quite as distinctly as the earlier poetry of T e n n y s o n does the imagery of the fens of Lincolnshire, or that of Scott does of the heathy moors, the rugged mountains, and the green glens of Scotland. Still keeping above the plain, a n d moving northwards, we came u p o n a fortress of extraordinary magnitude and strength, known in m o d e r n days by the n a m e of I i u n i n .

T h e inhabit-

ants of the miserable village of the same n a m e have their houses in a narrow corner of the mysterious and moat-encircled pile; a n d there is ample room in the e n o r m o u s ruin for their expanding, should they be

multiplied a hundredfold.

various styles of architecture traceable in the building

The have

not a little puzzled archaeologists; but the Phenician masonry visible here and there, places beyond doubt the great antiquity of some parts of it.

Some say that it is Beth-roboh ; even the

Canaanitish I-Iazor puts in a dubious claim. Descending by tortuous paths into the Iiuleli valley, we crossed the most westerly brancli of the J o r d a n as it comes down from the neighbourhood of Ilasbeiya, far up in the Lebanon.

I t is spanned by a bridge of three a r c h e s ;

but the

stream, when we passed it, was only flowing under the middle arch.

Soon after, we crossed a narrower stream, which formed

a second

tributary of

the sacred

r i v e r ; and

a few yards

beyond, we sat down to rest on a natural m o u n d u n d e r the far-spreading branches of a noble patriarchal oak that might have rivalled in size and foliage A b r a h a m ' s oak at Mamre. W e could now see that this second stream was fed from a little cup-shaped lake into which a noble fountain discharged itself. And beyond this fountain was a grassy tell, or m o u n d , littered with ruins, which has been identified as the site of the old city of D a n , the place where J e r o b o a m set up one of his golden

OAK'S OF BASH AN.

295

calves for the Israelites to worship, a n d which m a r k e d n o r t h e r n extremity of the tribal territories. these calves," r e m a r k s t h e sagacious

the

" T h e erection of

Fuller, " was p r e t e n d e d

for the ease of the people of Israel, to spare their tedious travel twice a year to J e r u s a l e m ; b u t in effect o c c a s i o n e d that they were sent a longer j o u r n e y on a worse errand, even into irrecoverable captivity.

T h u s to spare a step of piety, is to s p e n d m a n y

on t h e r o a d to misery." T h e n o u r way led us t h r o u g h an extensive region of great n a t u r a l b e a u t y a n d inexhaustible fertility. ancient

kingdom

of Bashan.

Almost

I t was part of the

every tree t h a t

had

b e c o m e familiar to us in Palestine grew here, except the p a l m — t h e myrtle, the a l m o n d , t h e a r b u t u s , the h a w t h o r n , t h e birch, a n d a b o v e all, a n d h o l d i n g firm a n d fast possession of its ancient

home,

the

oak of Bashan.

T h e r e was n o

tangled

u n d e r g r o w t h of b r u s h w o o d , b u t the trees cast their long shadows on a beautiful c a r p e t of green.

I t b r o u g h t to our r e m e m -

b r a n c e , even in its u n p r u n e d luxuriance, s o m e of the noblest parks of E n g l a n d with their ancestral baronial trees.

I n an h o u r

we had r e a c h e d Banias, t h e site of the a n c i e n t C e s a r e a Philippi, a n d h a d pitched our t e n t s in the midst of an extensive grove ot olives, and b e n e a t h the very s h a d o w of t h e mighty H e r m o n . I t is certainly o n e of t h e m o s t g r a n d a n d p i c t u r e s q u e places in all Palestine.

I m m e d i a t e l y b e h i n d , H e r m o n , t h e highest

p e a k of Anti-Libanus, rises to a height of ten t h o u s a n d feet, d e n s e l y w o o d e d on its side, a n d its s u m m i t d i a d e m e d with eternal snow p u r e as the azure sky a b o v e it.

I t s n a m e in

A r a b i c is Jebel-esh-Sheikh, the prince of m o u n t a i n s ; a n d it is well entitled, as it sits there solitary in its royal state, to b e thus r e g a r d e d as the M o n t Blanc of W e s t e r n Asia : — " T h e y crowned him long a g o O n a t h r o n e of rocks, w i t h a robe of clouds A n d a d i a d e m of snow i

T h e A r a b poets

have a beautiful saying, in allusion to the

I;,IX/,IS.

2ut this B a n i a s f o u n t a i n , which is t h e m o s t

eastward, s e e m s to h a v e b e e n r e g a r d e d in t h e days of J o s e p h u s as the true J o r d a n f o u n t a i n ; a n d u n d o u b t e d l y it is t h a t which a p a i n t e r would prefer as by far t h e m o s t p i c t u r e s q u e — t h e fit b i r t h - p l a c e of the m o s t sacred of all rivers.

F r o m a m o s s y rock

in the side of H e r m o n it gurgles forth p u r e a n d bright, a n d so strong that it is s o m e feet b r o a d a few y a r d s f r o m t h e s p o t where it leaps into light.

Again a n d again we k n e l t d o w n anil

d r a n k of its waters at their very source.

W e g a t h e r e d a few

s p e c i m e n s of " m a i d e n ' s - h a i r " fern that d i p p e d in its s p a r k l i n g current.

W e then followed its rapid c o u r s e t h r o u g h t h e m i d s t

of beautiful c r e e p i n g p l a n t s

and

waving o l e a n d e r s ,

little bridges a n d over b r o k e n c o l u m n s a n d r o u n d e d

beneath boulders,

until it leaped down by a succession of c a s c a d e s into m o r e level

298

' THOU ART

ground beneath.

PETER:

W e t h e n stood a n d t h o u g h t of this y o u n g

river as the e m b l e m of m a n y a life b e g i n n i n g p u r e a n d bright, b o u n d i n g on in b e a u t y a n d h o p e , spreading a faithful mirror to the sun-lit f i r m a m e n t , a n d b y night to the stars, b u t at length mingling with itself corrupting elements, b e c o m i n g turbid a n d violent, a n d losing itself at length in the Sea of D e a t h . I s this the region of H e r m o n to which David so pathetically refers in o n e of his psalms 1

A glance at s o m e parts of t h e

scenery strongly inclines us to answer, Yes.

H e pictures him-

self as h a v i n g b e e n driven by persecution to " the u t m o s t c o r n e r of t h e land," a n d as h a v i n g f o u n d a hiding-place, with a little b a n d of chivalrous followers, a m o n g t h e roots of H e r m o n .

His

refuge s e e m s to h a v e b e e n in a natural cave, a n d the time of his exile d u r i n g a season of storm, when a t h o u s a n d f o a m i n g cascades might b e heard leaping from the m o u n t a i n s , a n d the whole region s o u n d i n g with the d a s h a n d roar of calling u n t o d e e p . "

cataracts—"deep

T h e r e were n a t u r a l caves in a b u n d a n c e

not far from o u r tent a m o n g the olive-trees ; a n d t h o u g h in the calm of a beautiful a f t e r n o o n we could only h e a r the ripple of the J o r d a n as it issued from its rocky b e d , yet when we looked up, we c o u l d see the m o u n t a i n s e a m e d a n d scarred in m a n y places by t h e m a r k s of torrents, when the snows hail b e e n rapidly melting, or the t e m p e s t had b e e n let loose. But b e y o n d this, the region is a s s o c i a t e d , by m o r e t h a n o n e incident, with " D a v i d ' s Son a n d L o r d . "

T h e s e " c o a s t s " or

b o r d e r s of C e s a r e a Philippi were the m o s t northerly p o i n t to which Christ c a m e in his j o u r n e y s of m e r c y ; a n d to t h e r e a d e r of t h e Gospel narratives it still bears his indelible footprints. It was in this place, on P e t e r ' s declaring his faith in h i m as " the Christ, the Son of the living G o d , " that h e a d d r e s s e d h i m in t h o s e m e m o r a b l e words, " T h o u art Peter, a n d u p o n this rock will I build m y church, a n d the gates of hell shall n o t prevail against it."

But is it possible to d o u b t t h a t t h e eye of t h e great

M a s t e r a n d his disciples was t u r n e d , while h e s p o k e , to that

TRANSI'IGL'RA

TION SCENE.

299

Castle of lianias, standing upon its r o c k y base a thousand feet high and filling up the whole view eastward, and that he doubled the impression of his sayings, as he so often did, by surrounding them with the framework and casting on them the colouring of a natural picture 1 A n d all the hints in the Gospel histories give something bey o n d a mere likelihood to the belief that one of those peaks of I i e r m o n was the true scene of our Lord's transfiguration.

That

most sublime incident is declared to have occurred when he was with his disciples " in the coasts of Cesarea Philippi."

The

cone-shaped T a b o r , down on the borders of Samaria, has nothing in its favour b e y o n d a not very ancient tradition.

One

of those solitary I i e r m o n peaks was the true " holy m o u n t " to which Jesus ascended with his three favoured disciples a little before sunset.

W e stood for a time looking up, and wondering

much which of them it might be.

O n one of these

Jesus

appeared for a time enrobed in the heavenly b o d y of his ascension, when his raiment was whiter than H e r m o n ' s untrodden snow, and his countenance shone more brightly than that setting sun now going down in his strength.

It

not

merely

b e c a m e the meeting-place of the great lawgiver and the chief prophet of the older dispensation with the apostles of the new, but the spot where earth and heaven m e t ; while its solitudes echoed the sounds of that D i v i n e voice which spake from the midst of the dazzling glory-cloud, " T h i s is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased ; hear y e him."

H e r m o n b e c a m e in

that sacred, awful hour something more than the

" holy

of

holies." T h e next morning, we were to proceed

on our mountain-

journey through the L e b a n o n , and to leave Palestine behind us for ever.

XVII. )

T h e y are inclosed and separated 21

33 2

RHODES

FROM

THE

SEA.

from the rest of the ship's company, and herd together.

Their

soulless looks give one the impression that their minds must have ceased to grow after the age of ten or twelve.

T h e y are

not, however, without their full share of curiosity, as their frequent furtive glances into the saloon make evident.

The

waters have become a little rough as we have approached the shores of Asia Minor, but it is enough to make the Orientals miserable.

A gale is about the last thing in the world that

they would wish for.

T h e y leave it to the pale-faced men

from the West to sing— " l i e thou m y c h a r i o t , s t o r m y s e a . "

But by another morning we are lying off R h o d e s , not with time enough for a comfortable landing, but with ample opportunity for receiving a general impression of the little capital with its neighbourhood.

Several Turkish war-ships are anchored

at no great distance from us.

T h e whole appearance of R h o d e s

produces a greater sense of majesty than did that of Cyprus, and vindicates her old title of " Queen of the / E g e a n . "

The

town is fortified and surrounded by strong walls, and we can see from our ship the entrance which was once bestrid by that huge Colossus beneath whose legs the most tall-masted ships could sail.

T h o s e who have been on shore on a breathless

visit confirm the information of Fellowes and other travellers respecting the distinct marks which have been left on R h o d e s by the Knights of J e r u s a l e m ; though it is now eight hundred years since they were driven from the island, carrying honour and chivalry with them.

T h e arms of England and F r a n c e are

seen sculptured on many an ancient h o u s e ; and the castle continues in massive strength, under which 16,000 T u r k s fell, before the knights handed over their iron yet not ungenerous dominion to the Moslem.

T h e little minaretted capital is

circled on the land side by an eminence of considerable height, which is crested by windmills and trees, especially by the always

COS AND

SAMA.

333

picturesque palm ; while, further inland, mountains rise into the clouds to the height of more than four thousand feet. R e m e m b e r i n g the old pagan fable, intended to represent its delicious climate and its p e r f u m e d breezes, that J u p i t e r poured down upon this island a golden shower, it was with some regret that we were hurried away from it, and that soon after mid-day we saw it dwindle out of view. Our course now lay in the midst of islands of every size and shape, some of them rising high in pyramidal and even fantastic forms, and others retaining a comparatively low level; many of them so small that their entire outline could be traced, as if the sea were a map, and those islets the highly-relieved and richlycoloured

parts of it.

Classical and

Christian

strangely mingle in many of those islands.

associations

There, for example,

is Cos, the birthplace of Apelles and Pythagoras, so abounding in old heathen altars, that the inhabitants scoop them out for vessels in which to bruise their corn, and in whose little sea-port capital Paul must have spent a night on his third great missionary circuit.

And that larger island, which seems like one vast

mountain, its summit dark with clouds and nursing the thunder, when all the rest of the /Kgean is cloudless and serene, is Samos, where Paul touched, and perhaps preached, on the same eventful v o y a g e ; and which is memorable as the birthplace of Hippocrates and the scene of Herodotus' temporary exile, where he wrote some of the books of his delightfully garrulous history. But our highest satisfaction was reserved for the afternoon of that singularly beautiful d a y ; for an hour before sunset there was pointed out to us, beyond the shoulder of another island, the doubly sacred isle of Patmos. It continues to this day, in its external features, the " a s p e r rima i n s u l a " which ancient writers called it.

But, to our mind,

it shone in that bright sea with all the solemn g r a n d e u r of a temple.

As the scene of banishment for J o h n the beloved, as

the place from which the Heaven-sent messages were communi-

PA TMOS.

334

cated by the faithful apostle to the seven C h u r c h e s on that western seaboard, and where there passed before the seer, in a succession of symbolic visions, the history of the C h u r c h

of

Christ from the ascension down to the winding up of its history at the judgment, what scene approaches it, in the interest of its sacred recollections, out of Palestine ]

Between what spot of

earth and heaven was the intercourse so intimate and continuous?

T h e golden ladder which J a c o b saw for one brief night

at Bethel, here spanned the distance between the two worlds for many a day and night.

A s we brought the island nearer to

us b y means of a g o o d telescope, and saw it in the light of the western sun, we were able to appreciate the description of it b y Clarke, as " surrounded by an inexpressible brightness, seeming to float upon an abyss of

fire."

and

P r o b a b l y the D e a n of

Westminster has overstrained his ingenuity, in his endeavour to show how much the visions of John took their shape and colouring from the natural scenery and the physical p h e n o m e n a of this island-prison.

But much may be said in support of the general

principle on which his speculation proceeds.

I f we find the

descriptions which other inspired men give of the worship of heaven idealized from that of Solomon's T e m p l e , why may we not believe that John's visions were influenced in degree by the scenes of this natural temple of the yEgean ? noticed

It has been

that there was little in the sunrises and sunsets of

Ephcsus corresponding with the grand pictures of the A p o c alypse, but it was otherwise with what John beheld around Patmos.

in and

A s he l o o k e d down from one of its summits

on the ever-changing sea, he must often have seen it calm as a mirror at his feet, " as a sea of glass like unto c r y s t a l ; " or when the neighbouring volcanic mountain of T h e r a sent up its lurid flames,

how often must the d e e p have seemed " like unto a

lake of hre ! "

A n d again, when its dense s m o k e darkened the

heavens, the sun must have appeared " like sackcloth of hair," and the " moon as b l o o d . "

T h u s far, perhaps, we may safely

PA Y OF SM J 'KXA.

335

go with the accomplished traveller in supposing the natural phen o m e n a in and around this rugged isle to have been reproduced a n d enlarged in J o h n ' s symbolic pictures of the spiritual world ; and indeed the very circumstance connects the apostle all the more, in c o m m o n with the narrative part of his Apocalypse, with Patmos. It is a fact not without its interest, that this island continues to be, to the present day, the I o n a of the East.

I t s monastery,

seen from a great distance on one of its loftiest ridges, is a miniature university, to which youths come for the higher forms of instruction, from the Morea, from the shores of Asia Minor, and from many of the neighbouring islands.

T h e sacredness

with which the name of the beloved apostle still surrounds it, protects it alike from the exactions of the T u r k , a n d from the robberies of the pirate ; just as, in the Middle Ages, the convents were safe when the baron's castle was given up to the flame or the sword.

P e r h a p s its smallness may have something also to

d o with its i n d e p e n d e n c e ; and there does seem a mixture of poetry in the description

of one traveller which

represents

liberty as " springing up here, like the flower upon its native mountain." Before the dawn of the following day we were off Chios, " the isle of wines," over against which Paul had passed a night at anchor, on his return voyage from T r o a s to Cesarea. both received and landed goods.

We

I n d e e d , it was one of our

minor enjoyments to observe the commodities that were obtained from the various islands at which we t o u c h e d ; rich fruit and vegetables from one, poultry from another, earthenware of antique shape from a third, and flowers from a fourth.

In

the early morning we were sailing up the noble bay of Smyrna, skirted on either side by many-shaped mountains covered with woods that were green and beautiful.

Before n o o n we had

cast anchor in the midst of war-ships and merchant vessels from many lands, in the wonderfully spacious bay of Smyrna.

The

33 6

IVAA'DEK/XCS.

view of this capital of A s i a Minor, as obtained from the sea, was grand and

imposing.

S p r e a d i n g along the semicircular

tremity of the bay, it rises far up the sides of M o u n t minaret

and

cypress

intermingling, — a ruined

ex-

Pagus,

fortress,

its

ancient acropolis, with d i s m a n t l e d walls standing out on the summit against a clear sky ; while b e h i n d all this there is a farreaching circle of verdant hills.

W e noticed, with our glass, far

up M o u n t Pagus, a tall solitary cypress b e n d i n g o v e r s o m e obj e c t ; and on inquiry, w e found that it was the t o m b of P o l y c a r p . T h e r e is an extraordinary vitality in this city of Smyrna.

Ten

times it has b e e n destroyed, and as m a n y times it has risen from its ashes.

I t would not b e easy to c o m p u t e the times in which it

has b e e n shattered b y the e a r t h q u a k e and m o r e than d e c i m a t e d b y the p l a g u e ; y e t there it is, with more than 180,000 inhabitants, rapidly b e c o m i n g the c o m m e r c i a l rival of C o n s t a n t i n o p l e . T h e chief explanation of all this is to b e found in the fact that it is the natural e m p o r i u m of Eastern c o m m e r c e b y caravans from the E a s t and ships from the West, which ride in safety in one of the most tranquil and spacious b a y s in the world. O n landing we e x p e r i e n c e d a g o o d deal of that disenchantment which all must e x p e c t on a closer view of an Eastern c i t y ; but still we greatly e n j o y e d Smyrna.

M a n y tilings that drew

our attention, at o n c e told their own story.

T h e flags of so

m a n y foreign consulates, 011 the roofs of spacious houses

of

semi-European architecture that lined the shore, bore testimony to the importance and m a g n i t u d e o f the c o m m e r c e o f which this city was the centre.

A n d as w e passed from the

Frank

quarter to the interior of the city, which c o n t a i n e d the native population, the one-storeyed w o o d e n houses revealed the fact that the p e o p l e d r e a d e d the earthquake e v e n more than the conflagration.

We

liked

those

numerous

fountains

at

the

corners of the streets, with their elaborate carvings and A r a b i c inscriptions, fed by numerous a q u e d u c t s that m a k e S m y r n a the best-watered city in the East,-- the work, it is said, of an early

TUE CARA VAX

BRIDGE.

oo7

c o n q u e r o r , who did what h e could to b e a t His sword into a ploughshare.

It was thoroughly Oriental, too, to w a n d e r through

those crowded bazaars, their half-darkness relieved by t h e pencil rays of light which c a m e d o w n with such R e m b r a n d t - l i k e effects through occasional interstices in the r o o f ; a n d to see the grave old m e r c h a n t s s q u a t t i n g in the f r o n t of their little shops, their whole stock in t r a d e within easy reach of their o u t s t r e t c h e d arms.

A n d it was a fine trial of one's p a t i e n c e to b e obliged

to s t a n d for minutes, while a long procession of c a m e l s tied to e a c h o t h e r a m b l e d slowly past, arching their l o n g necks, with their noisy drivers " t a k i n g n o n o t e of time."

We

remember

to h a v e m e t in o n e of those narrow streets a m o s t " ragged r e g i m e n t " which had just r e t u r n e d from the war in Crete, going to b e d i s b a n d e d , a n d whose m e m b e r s h a d certainly quite as much the look of b a n d i t s as of soldiers.

F e w things

more

pleased us in the c u s t o m s of t h e p e o p l e t h a n the little cots m a d e of wood or stucco, p l a c e d between m a n y of their windows, to afford shelter for the martins a n d the s w a l l o w s — t h e expression of an a m i a b l e s e n t i m e n t in the T u r k towards the inferior creatures, which s o m e Christians might d o well to imitate. But t h r e e o b j e c t s especially interested us in Smyrna.

One

of these was the f a m o u s C a r a v a n - b r i d g e a little d i s t a n c e out of the city, which s p a n s the Meleus, from whose waters blind H o m e r may have drunk three thousand

years ago.

I t is at

o n c e the chief scene of festivity on all gala days to t h e Smyrniots, a n d the great t h o r o u g h f a r e of c o m m e r c e ; for all the rich prod u c e of the E a s t that is to b e s h i p p e d at S m y r n a m u s t pass along this bridge, and all the c a r a v a n s which pass t o w a r d s t h e East and pay toll here, acquire a right to p a s t u r e their camels in any part of the Sultan's dominions.

I t is a c o m m o n wish of

the p e o p l e , by which they express their idea of b e c o m i n g rich, that they might possess the value of what passes over this bridge in a single day. T h e r e was a higher form of satisfaction in our visit to the in-

THE PRUSSIAN

33»

DEA COX ESSES.

stitution of t h e Prussian deaconesses.

T h i s s e e m e d to us by

far the most powerful agency for religious g o o d at work in Smyrna.

U n q u e s t i o n a b l y t h e G r e e k C h u r c h , in its present

corruption and a p a t h y , is powerless against

Mohammedanism,

and the average T u r k is morally quite as g o o d a m a n as the Greek.

T h e m i n a r e t s will only diminish here, w h e n the Chris-

tianity has b e c o m e institution, reared

m o r e Christian.

But

in this

admirable

b y Christian b e n e v o l e n c e , a n d

presenting

the gospel in association with intelligence, purity, r e f i n e m e n t , cleanliness a n d happiness, we h a v e a silently aggressive and leavening power.

T h e r e are two h u n d r e d a n d twenty female

pupils, seventy-five of w h o m are boarders, a n d t h e r e m a i n d e r are day-scholars or half-boarders.

T h e r e is also c o n n e c t e d with

this, a n d sustained by its profits, an o r p h a n a g e c o n t a i n i n g thirtysix pupils.

J e w , Greek, A r m e n i a n , G e r m a n , F r e n c h , English,

and s o m e t i m e s T u r k , mingle in the same classes.

N o t only

are all the e l e m e n t a r y b r a n c h e s of e d u c a t i o n taught, b u t several of the m o d e r n languages a n d m u s i c ; a n d all is p e r v a d e d by a Christian element, a n d refined b y female influence.

Nothing

could b e b e t t e r t h a n the spaciousness a n d cleanliness of the a p a r t m e n t s , a n d the c o m p l e t e n e s s of t h e ventilation.

T h e r e is

a g a r d e n in the c e n t r e from which the various s c h o o l - r o o m s o p e n , so t h a t the breeze not only carries in with it g o o d air, but

fragrance.

The

love of

flowers,

which shows itself so

strongly in all classes in the East, is thus gratified a n d n u r t u r e d ; a n d this also is e d u c a t i o n , for, with A d d i s o n , we place this taste a m o n g the half-virtues. W e f o u n d a n o t h e r attraction in the t o m b of Polycarp, and in the association of t h e n a m e of t h a t most v e n e r a b l e of all the early Christian martyrs with the epistle f r o m t h e Christ to the C h u r c h of Smyrna.

ascended

A careful historical criticism,

which d o e s n o t use acids i n s t e a d of oils, has greatly increased the probability that this very P o l y c a r p was t h e angel or presiding minister of the C h u r c h at S m y r n a to which t h a t epistle was

TOMB

OF POL

YCARP.

339

w r i t t e n ; and this, best of all, accounts for the key-note of persecution to which, as has been happily said, " the epistle is set." A n d there seems just as little reason to doubt that that tomb, with its one dark cypress, half-way up M o u n t Pagus, to which we steered our way around rocks and stones, and up declivities which made an inconveniently near approach to the perpendicular, was the actual grave of that most saintly minister.

Mr.

W o o d , of the British M u s e u m , w h o found the name " Poluc a r p o s " on the first sarcophagus that he turned up in his excavations at Ephesus, suggested that it might have contained the martyr's d u s t ; but the name was c o m m o n over the East in those times, and we afterwards saw it on other parts of the Ephesian ruins. disturb.

T h i s is a tradition which there is no reason to

W e walked

across a hollow part of the

mountain

from the tomb to the scene of the martyrdom at the supposed entrance to the ancient stadium, and endeavoured to call up the scene as described by Eusebius and reproduced b y Milner. T h e r e was no shade of superstition or of excess about i t ; the departure of P o l y c a r p would have well beseemed one of the apostles.

U p o n being brought before the tribunal, the pro-

consul, respecting his dignity and his advanced age, and desirous to save his life, urged him, saying, " S w e a r , and I will release thee. Reproach Christ."

Polycarp answered, " Eighty and six years

have I served him, and he hath never wronged m e ; and how can I blaspheme my K i n g w h o hath saved me ?"

T h e pro-

consul then judging his efforts to be unavailing, sent the herald to proclaim in the midst of the assembly, " P o l y c a r p hath professed himself a Christian."

A t that hated name, the multitude

both of Gentiles and Jews unanimously demanded that he should be burned alive.

A s soon as the fire was prepared, the old

man stripped off his clothes and loosed his g i r d l e : but when they were about to fasten him to the stake, he said, " L e t me remain as I am, for l i e who giveth me strength to sustain the fire will enable me also, without your securing me with nails,

JOURNEY to remain unmoved in the

TO fire."

EPHESUS. This much was conceded, and

his sublime constancy astonished those who had piled the fagots. " A m a z e d t h e y c r y , ' W h a t spell is this, W h i c h turns his s u f f e r i n g s all to b l i s s ? ' "

In a little moment he found the promise to the angel of the Church in Smyrna accomplished in himself, " Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life." Ephesus was about fifty miles distant, and there was a railway connecting it with Smyrna, and the attraction drawing us to this seat of the first of the seven Churches of Asia now became irresistible.

But there were discouragements in the way \ for

brigands were known to be active in all the neighbourhood.

A

farmer's son had recently been seized by them, carried off to their horrid robbers' den, and only recovered by the payment of an exorbitant ransom of , £ 1 , 5 0 0 .

T h r e e of these scoundrels

had afterwards been caught by the soldiers of the Sultan, identified by the youth as belonging to the party that had stolen him, and promptly beheaded ; and as the Smyrniots are fond of the sensational as well as the better educated communities of the West, photographs of the ghastly heads were being sold in considerable numbers in the few shops in Smyrna that ventured to traffic in literature.

R e v e n g e was, therefore, likely now to

actuate the remaining brigands as well as cupidity; but though we had the strongest aversion to being bound and blindfolded by ruffians, and treated to their kind of hospitality, the mert possibility of such an unwelcome adventure was not sufficient to deter us. L a k e s and swamps swarming with birds, from the stork and the heron downwards, cultivated patches of land in the midst of wild commons,

hills rising sheer in many places to great

heights from the margin of the lakes, were among the chief features of the scenery.

Our glances at these were alternated

by recollections regarding Ephesus as one of the greatest centres of early evangelism.

T h e Temple of Diana, unsurpassed in

PA UL A T

EPIIESUS.

341

architecture, with o n e h u n d r e d a n d twenty-seven n o b l e c o l u m n s , each t h e gift of a king, c o n t a i n i n g n u m e r o u s pictures f r o m the pencil of Apelles, a n d sculptures from t h e chisel of Praxiteles, rich in u n t o l d treasures a n d votive offerings, with its splendid retinue of priests, its t h o u s a n d s of interested d e p e n d a n t s , a n d with m u l t i t u d e s c o n s t a n t l y crowding to it to worship from all q u a r t e r s of t h e world, h a d r e n d e r e d E p h e s u s , in P a u l ' s days, the very m e t r o p o l i s of P a g a n worship.

T o this city, " m a d

u p o n its idols," P a u l h a d c o m e a l m o s t alone, b e a r i n g his great message.

A w a r e of its i m p o r t a n c e , he h a d l a b o u r e d in it for

t h e s p a c e of two whole years ; and with such success as to s h a k e idolatry on its very t h r o n e , materially diminishing t h e traffic of t h e m a k e r s of silver shrines of D i a n a , turning into

penitent

disciples t h e

winning

practisers

of sorcery a n d

magic, a n d

towards himself the respect a n d protection of s o m e of t h e chief m e n of the city.

T h e r e he h a d e n j o y e d the h o m e l y fellowship

of Aquila and Priscilla, in whose w o r k s h o p h e h a d n o t disdained to toil for honest bread, a n d had been c h e e r e d by the m a n i f o l d ministries of the beloved Onesiphorus.

T i m o t h y had r e m a i n e d

b e h i n d when he left it, as the p e r m a n e n t p a s t o r of its thriving c h u r c h ; a n d it had b c c o m e the h o m e of the apostle J o h n in his old age.

I l o w t e n d e r Paul's recollections were regarding it

may b e g a t h e r e d from his m a t c h l e s s a d d r e s s to its elders w h o c a m e down to Miletus to m e e t him ; how highly he e s t i m a t e d its strength a n d piety a p p e a r s from that most heavenly of all his epistles which h e a d d r e s s e d to it.

H o w m u c h it was loved

a n d w a t c h e d by a greater than P a u l m a y b e read in the message to it by Christ from heaven. W h e n we r e a c h e d the miserable m u d village of Ayasolook, t h e m o d e r n E p h e s u s , we learned t h a t the b r i g a n d s h a d b e e n d e e p in their p o t a t i o n s d u r i n g t h e previous night, a n d that d r u n k e n n e s s had p r o b a b l y m a d e t h e m h a r m l e s s for s o m e hours to c o m e .

T h e first o b j e c t that a t t r a c t e d o u r n o t i c e when we

looked b e y o n d t h e village was a m o s q u e of large dimensions,

342

MOUNT

PRION.

which was named from St. J o h n .

I t had originally been a

Christian temple, built by the E m p e r o r Justinian in honour of the beloved disciple, upon the site o f an older church whose date went b a c k to the early Christians.

T h e famous Council

of Ephesus, with its two thousand bishops, met within its walls, and found ample a c c o m m o d a t i o n for themselves and their dependants.

But the central point of interest in connection with

ancient Ephesus was M o u n t Prion, a mile and a half distant. T h e first part o f our way to it was past a line of lofty marble columns, on the top o f each o f which, instead o f the usual capital, was a stork sitting on her nest, and more than covering the whole summit.

W e then walked along narrow paths, through

the midst o f tall rank grass or waving corn-fields, often stumbling over prostrate marble columns, or richly-carved sarcophagi, which had been brought to light by Mr. W o o d and his Arab e x c a v a t o r s ; keeping a sharp look-out all the while for serpents, which are so numerous here that there are men, with long hollow instruments, who devote themselves to their destruction.

Everywhere

underneath our feet there is the buried city ; for wherever excavations have been made, there have been found, not only the marks o f its existence, but o f its extent and splendour. W e are now wending our way around M o u n t Prion ; and it is evident that the principal public structures o f Ephesus were built around the sides, or at the foot o f this mountain ; while an ancient cemetery can still be traced upon its summit, where, tradition says, the ashes o f the beloved apostle were laid.

We

can say nothing indeed with certainty o f the locality o f Diana's temple, for hitherto it has baffled the researches of the excavator — t h e earthquake having probably made its grave very d e e p . * But with the help of the pencilled sketch with which Mr. W o o d supplied us we were able to identify the Forum, the

Market-

place, the Stadium, the Odeon with its marble seats still rising * N o t long after our visit, however, Diana's temple was discovered, and sculptures of preat a r d i x o l o g i c a l value sent by Mr. W o o d have added to the riches and attractions oi the British M u s e u m .

" PAUL'S

THEATRE."

343

a c o n s i d e r a b l e way up the sides of the m o u n t a i n ; a n d transcending everything else in m a g n i t u d e as well as in interest, the Great T h e a t r e , or, as it is popularly n a m e d , t h e T h e a t r e of St. Paul. T h e proscenium, which has only recently b e e n laid bare, is in g o o d preservation, with its magnificent entrance-gates a n d its s c u l p t u r e s ; a n d t h e whole of that extremity of the m o u n t a i n where it s t a n d s a p p e a r s to h a v e b e e n s c o o p e d out u p t o its summit to afford seats for t h e spectators.

T h e m a r b l e of which

the seats were f o r m e d h a s b e e n r e m o v e d by native V a n d a l s , b u t their places m a y still b e distinctly traced in the grassy shapes which remain, a n d rising up from the proscenium to the summit, they must h a v e b e e n c a p a b l e of h o l d i n g at least ten t h o u s a n d spectators.

I t was into this place that Gaius a n d Aristarchus,

t h e c o m p a n i o n s of Paul, were dragged ; a n d h e r e t h e m a d d e n e d m u l t i t u d e called for h o u r s together, " G r e a t is D i a n a of the Ephesians."

T h e theatre looks forth u p o n what was o n c e t h e

bay of E p h e s u s , in which, in the days of t h e city's greatness, a t h o u s a n d ships were often a n c h o r e d ; a n d the sight must h a v e b e e n magnificent, w h e t h e r of the c r o w d e d bay as seen from this e n o r m o u s a n d splendid edifice, or of the theatre a n d the m o u n tain with its circle of g r a n d structures, as seen b y the ships e n t e r i n g from the sea.

All these effects were evidently in t h e

design of the a r c h i t e c t ; and the whole proves on what a T i t a n i c scale of g r a n d e u r t h e public structures of those times were b o t h p l a n n e d and executed. R u i n now b e n d s to ruin.

But h o w m e l a n c h o l y is t h e

change!

T h e o n c e c r o w d e d bay is now a h e a p

of m u d covered with r e e d s and coarse grass, through which t h e C a y s t e r winds lazily, s e n d i n g u p exhalations laden with fever a n d pestilence. grave.

A r o u n d us for m a n y miles there is o n e vast

I t is not only b a r r e n n e s s we look u p o n , b u t s o m e t h i n g

t h a t is awfully desolate and j u d g m e n t - s t r i c k e n . I t was s o m e hours after sunset on a S a t u r d a y e v e n i n g when we got b a c k to Smyrna.

But t h e night was calm, and t h e sky

" sown with stars," a n d we glided easily from t h e shore to our

344

EVENING

SERMON—EPIIESUS

OF THE

FUTURE.

ship, through waters so very phosphorescent that, at every stroke of the oars, we seemed sailing in a sea of gold. On the following evening we preached in the saloon of the vessel to our English and American fellow-passengers, and to some Christian friends who had come on board from Smyrna to join us in our worship. We spoke of the founding of the Christian Church by Paul at Ephesus. We adverted to the special obstacles which the new religion had to encounter in that citadel of idolatry, with the honour of the city and the interests of so many of its inhabitants dependent on the continuance and supremacy of the old superstition. We spoke of the faith-sustained courage of that solitary man, in thus assailing the false religion in the midst of its most imposing splendours, and in its very tower of strength. We turned attention to the evidence given of the might and mastery of the gospel, in its constraining men like the Ephesian soothsayers to abandon profitable sins, and even to destroy the instruments by which they had won their unhallowed gains. We compared the high flood-tide of Christian life in the Ephesian Church when Paul wrote to it, with its begun decadence and diminished vitality when, in the next generation, the message came to it from Heaven, and we warned our hearers against resting in a traditional religion. We asked each one to inquire for himself whether, in a divine estimate of his Christian character, there would not be reason for more than one " Nevertheless, I have somewhat against thee." We noticed the fact that while the candlestick had been removed out of its place, it had not been extinguished, and never would be extinguished out of the world. And we expressed our longing for the time when the light of true Christianity would again be brought back to those beautiful regions, when Ephesus would recover her first love, and when true religion would bring in its train all the blessings of true civilization,—" Length of days in her right hand ; and in her left, riches and honour."

XIX.

En Constantinople. Constantinople as seen from the sen—Vinos /rom Constantinople—Enthusiasm toned der.vn—Turkish cemeteries—Moslem quarters—The religion of Mohammed and ivoman—Trequent conflagrations—Precautions against /ires— The imperial mosques — The Golden Horn—Scenes on the bridge—Polyglot city— The Sultan and his escort — The Jltivrer bazaar—Scripture phraseology—Mosque of Soliman—Outer court of Mosque 0/ Bajazet—Sacred do-.-es— li'ind-chasers—Mosque of St. Sophia—History -—Ez'angeltzing—Peciiy o f prejudices— The Jewish children—I'ebelc—College of the American Mission—Dr. Hamlin's house—Romantic story—Ancient hippodrome—• Old cistern—Khabdomancy (llo.sea iv. 12]—Dr. Millingen—Recollections of iiyron — What Constantinople might be.

~IIKN T we a p p r o a c h e d

C o n s t a n t i n o p l e in an A u s t r i a n

s t e a m e r f r o m B e y r o u t , on a bright m o r n i n g in month

of M a y , it struck us as t h e m o s t

of E u r o p e a n cities.

the

splendid

N o t even V e n i c e , " d a u g h t e r of t h e S e a , "

or F l o r e n c e , w a t e r e d by its b e a u t i f u l A r n o a n d g u a r d e d by its glorious A p p e n i n e s , so i m p r e s s e s y o u with a n i d e a of magnific e n c e as d o e s this capital of I s l a m , as you sail u p to it f r o m t h e Dardanelles.

T h e r e is n o city in t h e world to which t h e o c e a n

has b e e n so kind.

W i t h the Sea of M a r m o r a lying at its feet,

with the d e e p b u t n a r r o w inlet of t h e G o l d e n H o r n g o i n g u p far into t h e l a n d b e t w e e n t h e a n c i e n t S t a m b o u l a n d the vast s u b u r b s of G a l a t a a n d P e r a , with t h e n o b l e sea-stream of the B o s p h o r u s at o n c e s e p a r a t i n g a n d u n i t i n g its E u r o p e a n a n d its Asiatic shores, t h e sea m a y b e said n o t only to t o u c h it kindly, b u t lovingly to e m b r a c e

it.

E v e r y w h e r e t h e streets a s c e n d

directly from the waters to e m i n e n c e s of c o n s i d e r a b l e height, giving to its buildings all t h e a r c h i t e c t u r a l effect which is lost to

34^

CONSTANTINOPLE,

AS SEEN

FROM THE

SEA.

so many other great cities that are built on plains; for Constantinople, like Rome, is a city of seven hills.

Her imperial

mosques, with their vast domes and white, lance-like minarets; her palaces and other public buildings; the bright colours of her private houses; and, intermingling with these, trees of ever)' shade of green, in all the fulness and freshness of their early summer beauty—the mulberry, the mimosa of the Nile, the acacia, the Trebizond palm, the plantain, and, above all, the dark and stately cypress often casting its shadow on the shaft of the minaret whose top is bathed in silvery light;—all together make up a picture that is literally dream-like. These impressions would be deepened were one to place himself in one of those Eastern gondolas or caiqucs,—which seem rather made, however, for the immobility of the Oriental than for the mercurial temperament of the men of the West,—and to sail up the Golden Horn, with long reaches of the immense city on either side of him, until, at the " sweet waters of Europe," the bay narrows itself into the dimensions of a river. And still more, were he to ascend the sunny and sparkling Bosphorus.

For ten miles, its shores present a delightful and daz-

zling panorama.

T h e white summer palaces of the Sultan; the

summer residences of foreign ambassadors, merchant princes, and ministers of state ; villages nestling in little bays, or crowning the background of hills, and glassing themselves in the tranquil deep beneath ; gardens and orchards surrounding those villages as with a setting of emerald ;—there, not far off on the Asiatic side, the bay in which the fleet of England lay, and sternly kept the gates of the Black S e a ; and, further down, at the point of Scutari, the cemetery in which so many of our Crimean heroes " sleep well." And there is an added element to one's enjoyment when, placing himself on some lofty point of observation, he looks forth from Constantinople upon scenes that strangely mingle Christian and classic associations:—the regions of Bithynia,

ENTIIUS/ASM

347

TONED DOWN.

N i c o m e d i a , a n d Thessaly, the oak-clad Arganthonius, t h e Mysian O l y m p u s c r o w n e d with its eternal d i a d e m of snow, the Isles of the Princes, a n d t h e far-off Dardanelles.

W h i l e night

would present the s a m e o b j e c t s in soft a n d solemn grandeur, when-" T h e h e a v e n s in still m a g n i f i c e n c e look down O n the h u s h e d Bosphorus, w h o s e o c e a n - s t r e a m Sleeps w i t h its p a l e r stars ; t h e snowy crown Of far O l y m p u s , in the moonlight gleam Towers radiantly."

W e have observed even p e r s o n s with little of the habit of devotion a b o u t t h e m , elevated a b o v e their c o m m o n level b y such scenes, a n d exclaiming, " W h a t a beautiful world G o d has given to m e n ! " W h i l e it is impossible to obliterate t h e impressions thus m a d e by the grand a n d beautiful in external nature, the traveller n e e d n o t b e surprised if h e finds the high enthusiasm p r o d u c e d by a first

and s o m e w h a t distant view of C o n s t a n t i n o p l e

consider-

ably t o n e d down by a simple walk from his ship to his hotel. L e t him n o t w o n d e r if, while h e follows the " h u m m a l , "

or

porter, u p o n e of the steep, narrow, dirty, a n d u n p a v e d streets, he c o m e s u p o n a m o t h e r - d o g nursing a large family of whelps in a corner, a n d d e e m s it p r u d e n t to m a k e a wide b e r t h between himself a n d t h e suspicious mongrel.

A s t h e houses are

for the m o s t part half-extemporized structures of wood a n d m u d , it is not unlikely that his course will b e s t o p p e d by t h e ruins of a h o u s e that has just fallen a n d m a d e the street for t h e time impassable, or by the ravages of a scarcely-extinguished

fire.

Or, if he is so f o r t u n a t e as to e s c a p e these m o r e f o r m i d a b l e obstructions, s t r e a m s of camels carrying great stones or dirty rubbish, or porters bearing a heavy b u r d e n on a long p o l e stretched across the entire width of the street, a n d quite aware that for the time they arc " masters of the situation," will m a k e it necessary for him to shrink into t h e smallest d i m e n s i o n s of which h e is capable, in order to escape bruises, or s o m e t h i n g worse. (420)

E x p e r i e n c e s like these very m u c h help to d i s e n c h a n t -5

TURKISH

34«

CEME

TERIES.

one of his first glowing admiration, so that it is more than likely that by the time he has reached the door of his hotel, a good deal of the poetry of the morning shall have been turned into prose. Wandering forth after a short rest, we were not long in tracing the characteristic marks of Mohammedanism, as we had already found them in other parts of the Turkish Empire.

One

of these was not only the unwalled state of their cemeteries, and their presence in the centre of the most crowded thoroughfares—death obtruding itself and shaking hands with life—but the freedom and familiarity with which these burial-places are frequented by the people.

They are visited as persons would

go in this country to a public garden or a pleasure-ground. Moslem women come to them with their faces veiled in the usual " yachmash," apparently for no other purpose but to idle away an hour.

And both here and outside the walls of Jeru-

salem, we have seen picnics going on over graves, with the common measure of pleasantry, and with the viands spread out upon the tombstones!

We confess we have never been able

to reconcile ourselves to this mingled levity and seeming insensibility.

Does this behaviour, which is habitual with Mo-

hammedans, arise from their conceptions of Paradise, which represent its inhabitants as engaged in not very dissimilar forms of enjoyment]

There is a harsh discord here.

Our

belief in a resurrection makes us reverence all the more the dwellings of the d e a d ; and with all our high Christian hopes, there is an awe with which it seems natural that we should stand in a place of graves and look across the dark river. You wander further away from the Frank quarter of the city, into those quarters which are the recognized locality of the Turk.

Veiled females meet you, guarded by a eunuch.

And

those grated or latticed windows in the larger houses tell you that you are looking up on the harems of wealthy Moslems. It is here that we see one of the worst and most damnatory

MOHAMMEDANISM

AND

349

WOMAN.

features of Mohammedanism—a feature which inheres in its very existence.

Wherever the Moslem faith prevails, woman

is branded and degraded.

T h e mischievous influence extends

not only to those who are the actual inmates of the harem, but to those who may be introduced into it, and to the children who are the fruits of the harem life.

T h e conjugal relation, as

God meant it, is blighted and perverted by the religion of the Crescent.

Man is the woman's master, rather than her pro-

tector.

She is not his soul-mate, but the minister to his plea-

sures.

The history of a millennium has proved the system of

the false prophet to be the enemy of free thought, the obstructcr of science, the ally of despotism, the instrument of social stagnation ; but, perhaps, there is no aspect in which we can regard it in which it has wrought in so many forms of evil as in its violation of " Heaven's first law," in its sanction of polygamy. We have referred to the likelihood of a stranger who should walk along the streets of Constantinople soon coming upon the blackened marks of some recent conflagration.

T h e fact is

that the Turk lives in the constant dread of having his house burned over his head. T h e houses being built for the most part of wood, a little carelessness may occasion combustion; and when once the flames are kindled, there is no telling how far, in that dry atmosphere, their ravages may spread.

We have

heard it asserted by residents, that, what with the unsolid character of the buildings, and the frequency and extent of the conflagrations, there is probably not a private dwelling in the immense city that is a hundred years o l d ; few of them have stood for even half that period.

T h e consequence is that

measures of the most elaborate kind are used for the prompt discovery and extinction of fires.

Two of the most prominent

objects in Constantinople, which are sure to attract the eye of a stranger on account of their massiveness and giddy height, are the Galata and the Seraskier towers, the one on the right and the other on the left side of the Golden Horn.

These are

PRECAUTIONS

35°

AG.-II.VST

FIRES.

watch-towers, commanding a complete view of the whole city, where men are posted day and night to watch the first appearance of fire, and to give the alarm.

It is questionable, indeed,

whether this was the original design of their erection.

The

Tower of Galata was a place of defence for the Genoese merchants who long kept possession of that part of the city, and whose houses of merchandise clustered in safety around its base ; and that of Seraskier was reared to watch the approach of enemies, especially of the stealthy Tartar, who was accustomed to creep downward, and set fire to the ships that lay in the crowded harbour.

But now their only use is against the ravages

of an enemy that seldom sleeps long in Constantinople.

We

ascended the Seraskier Tower, and saw the watchmen taking the range of the whole city with large telescopes, and peering out with all the interest with which we have seen a pilot looking out into a storm.

T h e moment a burst of smoke or a jet

of flame is beheld issuing from a house, a basket is hung out from the top of the tower by day, and a lantern by night; cannons are fired; signals are given to indicate the quarter of the city in which the enemy has begun its desolating work ; and the alarming cry, " Stamboul hiangin var," echoes through the streets.

T h e chief officers of the Sultan are expected to be

speedily on the scene; and should the conflagration last for many hours, the Sultan himself must appear, even at midnight, to encourage the work of extinguishing the flames. O n e is tempted to ask whether the use of less combustible materials in building would not be a better mode of battling with this daily and terrible calamity.

T h e r e is a strange contrast between the fierce energy of

the T u r k during the fire, and his apparent apathy after it has done its destructive work—sitting among the black ruins upon his carpet, which is perhaps the only thing which he has saved from the desolation, and smoking his pipe !

Does his fatalism come

in as his gloomy solace ? or is he consoled by knowing that he must now begin to build ?

For there is a popular superstition,

SCE.VES

ON THE

35 1

BRIDGE.

in which the Sultan and his subjects alike share—that it is lucky to have some building always on hand, and that death is more likely to keep aloof from a man while his work is unfinished. But we must pass across the Golden H o r n to Stamboul, the old Byzantium, and look in upon some of the grand imperial mosques—the cathedral churches of Islamism.

On our way

along the pontoon bridge, which connects the new with the older city, we stand and look around us and listen.

What a

many-coloured and picturesque multitude streams past in both directions, indicating an extraordinary variety of nationality and sect.

There is the Effendi Turk, with his snow-white tur-

ban ; there are the blue-turbaned Jew and the black-turbaned G r e e k ; that is a Dervish in the gray conical-shaped h a t ; and that strong-limbed, white-kilted passenger, with the pistols in his belt, is an Albanian.

Perhaps the representatives of more than

thirty nationalities may pass you on that bridge within the space of half an h o u r ; and if you listen and distinguish, you will hear more languages during the same period than were spoken at Pentecost.

It is this which must render the labours

of the Christian missionary or teacher at Constantinople so exceptionally difficult, but which, after a certain measure of success has been reached, will make them proportionately productive, for the seeds will be carried forth into many lands, and will multiply themselves manifold. But as we continued to watch the human current, it suddenly stopped, and the bridge began to be densely lined on either side with soldiers.

On inquiring of a Turk near us what was

the cause of this, we were told that " the Butcher was coming." It was immediately explained that this rather uncomplimentary title was meant for the Sultan; and nothing was more natural than that we should begin to call up visions of wholesale massacres of former favourites who had fallen into disgrace, bowstringed with reason or without reason; or of suspected persons tied in sacks along with a serpent and a cat, and tumbled

352

THE SULTAN AND HIS

at midnight into the Bosphorus.

ESCORT.

W e were assured, however,

that the name was given in honour, as intended to describe the most awful prerogative of an Oriental despot, — the power of putting a certain n u m b e r of persons to death each day without giving a reason.

As it turned out that the Sultan was paying

his annual visit to the courts of justice, the title did not strike us as very happily chosen.

Little value is set upon time in the

East, and the Sultan was not punctual.

At length the prancing

of horses and the clank of arms told us that he was near.

The

escort was splendid in its richly-adorned officers and ministers of state, bestriding noble Arab steeds, a n d sitting on saddles covered with

cloth of gold.

One

personage,

fantastically

dressed, was pointed out to us as the court jester, whose office it is to utter wholesome truths in jest which might be resented if spoken by wise m e n in earnest.

A n d there was the Sultan

himself, with a plume of heron's feathers in his turban, knit together by a diamond clasp of great splendour, sitting in his carriage in dim isolation, like a demigod. from the people.

T h e r e were no cheers

But neither was there any of that abject

servility of posture which is practised even by grand viziers and pashas in the awful presence in the palace. O n our way to the mosques, it was impossible to avoid the fascination of the bazaars, in which the old Oriental customs continue much as they have been for many a century. seen something similar before both at Cairo a n d

We had

Damascus;

but those of Stamboul impressed us quite as much with their extent, variety, and wealth.

Lines of streets covered

and

painted, with their shops entirely open in front, stretch over many miles of the old city.

Almost every custom you notice

in them contrasts with the trading life of the West.

T h e shop-

keepers, sitting cross-legged, and smoking their long pipes or bubbling narghelis, seem indifferent about traffic, and everything

else that

is sublunary.

The

old practice

remains,

which we have noticed in some other cities, and of which

SCRIPTURE we

have

of

having

many

traces

whole

of merchandise.

PIIRASF.OLOG)'.

in

streets

the

devoted

Testament to

Scriptures,

particular

branches

T h u s there is a street for spices and per-

fumes, one for armour, one flowers,

Old

353

and so on.

for silver ornaments,

one for

We can see at a glance that Asia sup-

plies the material of this curiously-varied traffic far more than the manufactories of Manchester or Sheffield; and that they are m u c h more indebted for their attractions to caravans from Bagdad, and ships from the eastern shores of the Black Sea, than to vessels coming from the West, cither by the D a n u b e or the Dardanelles.

Constantinople, though built on the soil of

Europe, is Asiatic in its tastes.

Even its principal burying-

ground is across on the shores of A s i a ; as if its people could not rid themselves of the presentiment that one day they may have to leave Europe, and " r e t u r n to the place from which they came out."

We are not sure that the T u r k would be

willing, at whatever gain to convenience, to exchange his mode of traffic for that which prevails in the F r a n k quarter of the city.

T h e dim light of his bazaars makes it more difficult for

the purchaser to detect an imperfection or a flaw.

Our dis-

covery of a crack in a small bottle of perfume which we purchased, brought out a Scripture form of speech from our venerable-looking old merchant, for which we could almost have consented to be c h e a t e d : " T h a t be upon mine own head." T h e flower-bazaar is one of singular variety and beauty, and it brings out an amiable trait in the character of the Turk.

He

is a sincere lover of flowers, a n d spends an unusual proportion of his means in ministering to this passion. " links wedding his heart to nature."

T o him they are

H e seems to compensate

himself for his opposition to sculpture and other plastic arts by this amiable taste, which, like cleanliness, is surely one of the nearest neighbours to godliness. But already our thoughts have begun to wander from the bazaars of Constantinople to its mosques ; and, with the hot

354

THE IMPERIAL

MOSQUES.

sun beating on us, we are glad when wc at length reach the protection of the Mosque of Soliman the Magnificent.

There

are in all two hundred common mosques scattered over the city, and fourteen imperial ones,—to one of which the Sultan comes in state to worship every Friday, which is the Mohammedan Sabbath.

This, which we enter after having " p u t our shoes

from off our feet," was built three hundred years ago, and is the largest of them all.

Its vast proportions produce a sense

of a w e ; and those innumerable lamps which hang from the dome-shaped roof must produce, when lighted, an extraordinary effect, bringing up some of the most dream-like pictures of the "Arabian Nights."

On Friday, a sacred sheikh preaches from

an elevated platform to many thousands.

On common days,

about forty teachers are scattered over the immense carpeted floor; and seated on cushions, and each surrounded by about sixty hearers, they give instruction in the duties of morality and explain the Koran.

On every day the mosque is open as

a place of prayer for those who may choose to come and worship in it.

Let us make the frank acknowledgment that there

is something less repulsive to our mind in a vast and solemn structure like this, with no image in it, than in a Latin or Greek church, with images or pictures everywhere obtruded on our notice, avowedly to assist devotion, practically misleading, or dwarfing, or absorbing it.

There is something of

highest

sublimity in addressing a Being whom we believe to be present, though invisible.

Mohammedanism

has surely done some

good in its protest against all idols and image worship, and in holding up to view the fundamental doctrine of the unity of God.

But this is all that we are able to concede.

This grand

doctrine is useful mainly as the essential foundation of other truths necessary to be known in order to man's true peace and happiness.

It is not merely of God in his personality, but of

God in his relations to our fallen race, that we need to be instructed in a revelation.

And the Koran is silent on the fact

SACRED

DOVES.

355

of a finished atonement and a living intercessor. Christianity itself be without its Calvary?

What would

Mohammedanism

gives you an unfinished sentence, which the gospel of Christ has completed, not only declaring that " t h e r e is one God," but that there is " o n e Mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus." We shall not enter the next great mosque to which we are conducted—that of Bajazet; for we know that it is only a repetition of what we have seen, and there are sights enough to interest us in its outer court.

We find it crowded with articles

of merchandise and noisy with trade—spices and medicines, brightly-coloured cloths

from the looms of Asia, toys and

Oriental confections ; and even the petty money-changer is not wanting to complete the picture.

We are reminded of another

temple associated with a purer faith, and of One who drove the intruders out with his small whip of cords. But in one corner of this outer court, which is not occupied by these noisy traffickers, there is another sight.

Multitudes

of beautiful doves, almost literally appearing as if they had "wings of silver, and feathers of yellow gold," are seated upon shady trees; for this outer court, like that of the ancient temple at Jerusalem, is open to the sky above. not uncared for.

And they are

At intervals a man scatters corn on the pave-

ment, and they fly down without fear to pick it up.

It is not

by chance that they are there, or through the mere caprice of some one in power.

They are, in fact, sacred birds, as an

unwary Frank would speedily discover in blows, or something worse, did he dare to molest them.

They arc protected and

endowed in this way in memory of that well-known event in the history of Mohammed, when his pursuers came up in hot haste to the cave in which he lay concealed, and hesitated whether they should enter it in search of him.

A dove flying

out from the mouth of the cave at the moment, led them to conclude that he was not there ; and so they passed on, and

MOSQUE

OF ST.

SOPHIA.

the history of the world was shaped anew by that little incident.

T h e pigeon has been a sacred bird with the Moham-

medans ever since. They have a very different feeling in respect to another bird which every one meets with flying rapidly and in great numbers as he sails along the Bosphorus.

These birds are never seen

to rest, and, accordingly, one of their popular names is, " windchasers."

But the old doctrine of the transmigration of spirits

lingers in the E a s t ; and by many a Turk is it believed that the souls of wicked men who have died are inhabiting the bodies of these birds, and in this wear)' unrest are enduring their punishment.

They are therefore secretly spoken of as " souls in

torment." But the mosque of St. Sophia, to which wc next went, is surrounded with a unique interest.

It was not originally a

mosque, but a Christian temple, erected by the Emperor Justinian in the sixth century; and even this was built upon the ruins of an earlier Christian edifice that had been destroyed by fire, and which had many a time resounded with the rich and noble eloquence of St. Chrysostom.

Justinian sought to enrich

it with architectural spoils gathered from every part of the heathen world—columns of jasper from the Temple of Diana at Ephesus, pillars of marble from the Temple of the Sun at Palmyra, enormous urns of porphyry that held the " lustral waters " of idol-worship, brought from Pergamos, and turned into fonts for Christian baptism; while all the wealth of the Byzantine Empire and all the architectural skill of Byzantine art united in rearing a temple which many regard as exceeding in magnificence, not only St. Mark's at Venice, but St. Peter's at Rome. It is said that when the great enterprise was completed, Justinian exclaimed, with a gratitude in which there was some mixture of self-complacency, — " Glory be to God, who has esteemed me worthy to achieve a work so sublime ! Solomon!

I have surpassed thee."

Though

Oh,

Mohammedan

E VAXGELIZING—DEC A Y OF PREJUDICES.

357

jealousy has destroyed or disfigured the greater n u m b e r of its ornaments that had any Christian reference, it is understood that some very elaborate representations of scriptural subjects have been covered over rather than d e f a c e d ; and it is curious to notice on one of its doors an indubitable cross r e m a i n i n g ; while the pictures of the six-winged cherubim are still among the most prominent objects that " s h i n e through the scintillations of masses of gilded crystal in the galleries."

N o ecclesi-

astical structure, beheld in its interior, gave us a profounder sense of vastness than this, its lofty d o m e rising above you like a

firmament,

a n d its stately pillars, seen far off in the dim

light, appearing like gigantic stems of trees in a great forest. When is this noble structure to be recovered to Christian uses ? Of the evangelizing agencies which we found at work in Constantinople, one of the most active was devoted to the Jews.

This was conducted by missionaries of the

Scotch

Church in Haskioy, one of the largest suburbs, and by teachers generally from Scotland, in obscure places down towards the shore, in some of the poorest streets of Galata,

As the

language spoken by the Jews varies with the countries from which they have been gathered, the teachers have found a formidable difficulty in this confusion of tongues ; but being thoroughly in earnest, they have conquered it.

We

were

astonished at the amount of Christian instruction which the Jewish children were allowed by their parents to receive in the schools, and at the extent of their knowledge of the facts of the New Testament.

Probably the parents calculate that

their

children will retain the secular advantages of the schools, and that the Christian impressions and associations will be thrown off when they return to exclusively Jewish circles. not always the case.

But this is

A n d meanwhile, it is the unanimous tes-

timony of all the teachers that the prejudices of the young generation of Jews against Christianity are greatly diminished. T h e incredulity may continue in the case of the greater n u m b e r ;

35^

COLLEGE

OF THE AMERICAN

MISSION.

but the gall of the old fanaticism has been dried up.

One of

the most pleasant sounds we heard in Constantinople was that of a number of Jewish inquirers who had come by night for conversation with a humble evangelist, in whose house we were sitting.

Their discussion ended by their singing together

a number of Christian hymns in German.

This was the begin-

ning of motion among the dry bones. Certainly one of the most hopeful agencies we met with in the neighbourhood of this Moslem metropolis was the College of the American Mission, in the beautifully situated town of Bebek, about ten miles up the Bosphorus.

Besides training a

native Christian ministry, it gives a high-class scientific and literary education to its general students, this being pervaded by a Christian and Protestant element.

When we were there,

the number of students was seventy-five, and seventy of these were boarders.

There cannot be a doubt that this well-planned

and organized institution will attract towards it, in considerable numbers, Moslem youths of the higher families. to do this already.

It has begun

And as little can it be doubted that the

valuable concessions in favour of religious liberty, obtained from the Sublime Porte by Lord Stratford de Redcliffe, and the feelings in favour of England produced among the Turks by the events and the issue of the Crimean War, have greatly diminished the difficulty of access to the Mohammedan mind on the subject of Christianity.

But it is not any of the corrupt

Churches that have hitherto for the most part represented our religion in the East, that are to drive the false prophet from his scat of power.

It was a dead Christianity that Mohammed con-

quered, and it is neither a dead nor a grossly corrupted Christianity that is to drive him out. A philosophical Turk remarked lately to a Christian physician of eminence in Constantinople— " We do not fear the Latin Church with its images, or the Greek Church with its pictures and its ungainly and empty forms.

These can do nothing to shake the hold which the

DR. HAMLIN'S

Moslem faith has of the East.

HOUSE.

359

But we do fear, because we

respect, your simple Protestant worship of God without any material representation or m e d i u m ; and we dread the power and prevalence of your gospel which presents God as love." T h e large house at present occupied by the American college at Bebek, is only held by them in temporary possession.

They

are proceeding to erect, at the sole expense of one munificent American, a Mr. Roberts, a college - building on a high hill behind Bebek, which will be a landmark for every ship entering the Bosphorus from the Black Sea.

But there is a story

connected with the present house, told us by Dr. Hamlin, the able president of the college, which shows us how romance and generous impulses occasionally play their part even in Turkey. Just about a hundred years ago, two young men were engaged by their parents in assisting them in the shops respectively kept by them : the one was a tobacconist, the other a baker.

The

shops stood opposite to each other at the corner of one of the streets of Pcra, and the two youths meeting and conversing every day, grew up in intimacy which ripened into fast friendship.

By-and-by, however, the young tobacconist became im-

patient of weighing out lumps of " Latakia " and taking piastres in return; and one day he announced to his friend his intention to leave Constantinople, and try his fortune elsewhere, expressing his confidence that a grander destiny lay before him than that of tobacco-selling.

T h e young baker was inconsolable at

losing h i m ; but no argument or persuasion could drive him from his purpose.

H e went to a far-distant place in the

Turkish Empire, and in a few years all knowledge regarding him by His old friends was lost. tions of trust.

H e was received into situa-

H e became the secretary of a pasha ; and when

the pasha died, he became his successor.

H e was removed from

one pashalic to another of greater magnitude and importance. In thirty-five years he was raised to be Grand Vizier, and re-

360

ROMANTIC

STORY.

turned to Constantinople in possession of an authority and splendour only second to that of the Sultan himself.

H e was

now a man of years, with a long white b e a r d ; but through all the long interval, he had never forgotten the friend of his youth.

Was he still alive ?

O n e of the earliest acts of the new

vizier was to send one of his chief servants down to the corner of the old street in Pera, to inquire whether a baker with his friend's name still kept shop t h e r e ; and, if so, to tell him that the Grand Vizier commanded him immediately into his presence.

T h e baker was long before this time a married man

with numerous children, and the message went like a deathknell to his h e a r t ; for commands like this usually boded either imprisonment or death.

H e asked the servant, in terror, what

he had done to bring upon him such a message. cheated no man. balances.

H e had

H e had not used false weights or uneven

H e had not adulterated the flour with which his

bread was baked.

His neighbours were drawn into his house

by the noise of his lamentations and entreaties, as well as by those of his wife and children.

But the servant must obey his

orders, and take him with him by force if he longer refused to come.

H e w e n t ; and through the midst of numerous guards,

and of splendours almost regal, was led into the presence of the Grand Vizier.

H e was asked whether he was the baker

trading at the corner of a certain street in Pera.

H e acknow-

ledged that he was, at the same time protesting his innocence of any charges that might have been brought against him, and casting himself down at the Grand Vizier's feet. T h e n the vizier asked him whether he remembered the young tobacconist who had been his companion in the days of his early manhood, and who had suddenly gone from his side to court a better fortune far away.

D i d he not yet recognize the voice and the counte-

nance of the friend of his youth ?

T h e man looked u p — a l l his

fears fled; and in another moment the two men were locked in each other's arms.

It ended in the baker's being raised to the

nirroDRQME.

361

high office of chief treasurer to the Grand Vizier; and the present spacious building, occupied by the College of the American Mission at Bebek, is this chief treasurer's old summerhouse ! One is apt to be disappointed at the comparatively few remains of antiquity that present themselves in a city so large as Constantinople, and with so long a history behind it.

The

frequent and wide-spread conflagrations in part account for this; still more, the fact that this city has had so many conquerors and a corresponding succession of masters, each of whom did his utmost to obliterate the marks of his predecessor.

The

wreath of sand raised by the wave of one conquest has been cancelled by the next. The hippodrome, or ancient race-course, into which half the population of old IJyzantium used to pour itself, and where emperors watched the chariot-races as they would have done the issue of a great battle, retains around it scarcely even a lingering glory.

And the grand old cistern of

Stamboul, erected by Constantine, and said to have been capable of containing a supply of water sufficient for the wants of the city for sixty days, with hundreds of marble pillars supporting its spacious roof, is now a vast damp cellar, into which you descend by a rickety wooden stair, and in which some halfnaked men, moving about like the figures in Dante's " Inferno," where the very light is darkness, ply the humble art of ropespinning.

But we were fortunate in meeting with one specimen

of great antiquity and of considerable Biblical interest. This was a beautiful alabaster bas-relief, in excellent preservation, representing the ancient practice of rhabdomancy, or divination by rods.

There is one allusion to this form of

superstition in Hosea iv. 12, from which it appears that the revolted Israelites had adopted it, in common with so many other heathen practices: " My people ask counsel at their stocks, and their staff dcclareth unto them"

One mode of

divining by this means was to set up a number of rods in the

362

RHABDOMAXCY.

earth, and when they fell during the muttering of certain verses and incantations, to derive the wished-for presages from the direction of the fall.

But another method was for a person to

take a rod and measure its length by spans, saying each time alternately, " I will go—I will not g o ; o r , " I will d o — I will f o r b e a r ; " and then he decided, according to the alternative which was associated with the last span.

It is this second

method that is represented in the bas-reliefs we are describing. A woman is the diviner, and two persons are consulting her, and waiting her decision with an interest evidently not unmixed with fear.

This alabaster was drawn up a few years since by

some fishermen, from the Bosphorus near its entrance to the Black Sea, opposite the sacred promontory of Jupiter Ourios, on which was a temple to which mariners used to resort and pray for favourable winds. years before Christ.

It is supposed to date five hundred

It became the property of the venerable

Dr. Millingen, an eminent English physician in Constantinople. From the same good physician we received some recollections and impressions of Lord Byron, on whom he had attended during his last illness at Missolonghi.

There were some few

topics on which Byron could never touch in conversation without bitterness.

One of these was the harsh treatment he had

received in his youth from his mother, who with an excess of blandishment at one moment, taunted him the next with ingenious and most unmotherly cruelty because of his deformed foot.

This treatment seems to have given the first touch of

misanthropy to a nature that was originally not unkind or ungenerous; but, except when his path was crossed by this and one or two other spectres, his conversation was genial

and

sometimes playful. Though he was reserved in his references to the supreme subject of religion, yet, when he did allude to it, he showed an accurate acquaintance with the facts of Scripture; and, while unsettled in his convictions on many matters of Christian

RECOLLECTIONS

OF

BYROX.

363

belief, he would have resented the charge of infidelity as a slander and a wrong.

One of his sayings to Dr. Millingen was,

" S h o u l d I get well again, don't be surprised if I become a b i g o t ; " by which he evidently meant, a person with strong and definite beliefs.

But he appears to have had the sad conscious-

ness, beneath all his efforts at cheerfulness, that while he had won a great earthly immortality, he had not found solid rest, and was not like the eagle standing in sunlight on the rock, but rather like the bird wounded, and fluttering, and sinking over a dark abyss. One morning at breakfast, when there was a return of some of his earlier brightness, Dr. Millingen suggested that he might gratify his friends by writing a few verses.

H e received the

request kindly, at the same time declaring himself to be utterly untuned and unstrung for poetry.

H e retired, however, to

another apartment, and in a few hours returned with those wellknown verses, sorrowful alike in their retrospect and their forebodings, which proved indeed to be his last.

H e read them

with a thrill of emotion that lighted up his countenance as with fire, and made his whole frame quiver :— " 'Tis time this heart should be unmoved, Since others it has ceased to move ; Vet though I cannot be l>eloved, Still let me love. " M y days are in the yellow l e a f ; T h e flowers and fruits of love are gone ; T h e worm, the canker, and the grief Arc mine alone."

But our notes were to be of Constantinople.

We suppose

few can have looked at the unrivalled geographical position of this splendid city, without inquiring why it is not a centre of immeasurably greater power and influence.

Placed at the

point of junction between two great continents, within a few hours of the mouths of the Danube, not far from the valley of the Euphrates, holding in its hand the key of one of the doors of the Black Sea, and commanding the eastern gateway of the (429) 2G

364

WHAT CONSTANTINOPLE

MIGHT

BE.

Mediterranean, why is it not commercially and politically among the mightiest, instead of needing to be bolstered a n d guarded, like a sick man, by other nations?

Perhaps some would

answer, that nations a n d cities as often become great by conquering natural difficulties as by seizing natural

advantages.

Others, comparing what the proud city would be with what she is, have sarcastically replied, with Montesquieu, " G o d

per-

mitted that T u r k s should exist on the e a r t h — a people the most fit to possess uselessly a great empire."

Education, true Chris-

tianity, and liberty would m a k e Constantinople, in a century, the mistress of the sunny East, and the benefactress of three continents.

E n ì i e x

t o

p a s s a g e s

A L L U D K D TO OR

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ILLUSTRATED.

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366

IXDEX

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