Palestine, or, the Holy Land: From the Earliest Period to the Present Time

by Michael Russell

CHAPTER VI.

Description of the Country South and East of Jerusalem.

Garden of Gethsemane; Tomb of Virgin Mary; Grottoes on Mount of Olives;
View of the City; Extent and Boundaries; View of Bethany and Dead Sea;
Bethlehem; Convent; Church of the Nativity described; Paintings; Music;
Population of Bethlehem; Pools of Solomon; Dwelling of Simon the Leper; Of
Mary Magdalene; Tower of Simeon; Tomb of Rachel; Convent of John; Fine
Church; Tekoa; Bethulia; Hebron; Sepulchre of Patriarchs; Albaid; Kerek;
Extremity of Dead Sea; Discoveries of Bankes, Legh, and Irby and Mangles;
Convent of St. Saba; Valley of Jordan; Mountains; Description of Lake
Asphaltites; Remains of Ancient Cities in its Basin; Quality of its
Waters; Apples of Sodom; Tacitus, Seetzen, Hasselquist, Chateaubriand;
Width of River Jordan; Jericho-Village of Rihhah; Balsam; Fountain of
Elisha; Mount of Temptation; Place of Blood; Anecdote of Sir F. Henniker;
Fountain of the Apostles; Return to Jerusalem; Markets; Costume; Science;
Arts; Language; Jews; Present Condition of that People.

In proceeding from Jerusalem towards Bethany, the traveller skirts the Mount of Olives; or, if he wishes to enjoy the magnificent view which it presents, both of the city and of the extensive tract watered by the Jordan, he ascends its heights, and at the same time inspects the remains of sacred architecture still to be seen on its summit. As he passes from the eastern gate, the Garden of Gethsemane meets his eyes, as well as the tomb which bears the name of the Blessed Virgin. This has a building over it with a pretty front, although the Grecian ornaments sculptured in marble are not in harmony with the pointed arch at the entrance. It is approached by a paved court, now a raised way, leading from the Mount of Olives over the Brook Kedron. The descent into it is formed by a handsome flight of steps composed of marble, being about fifty in number and of a noble breadth. About midway down are two arched recesses in the sides, said to contain the ashes of St. Anne, the mother of Mary, and of Joseph her husband. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, the visiter is shown the tomb of the holy Virgin herself, which is in the form of a simple bench coated with marble. Here the Greeks and Armenians say mass by turns, and near it there is an humble altar for the Syrian Christians; while opposite to it is one for the Copts, consisting of earth, and entirely destitute of lamps, pictures, covering, and every other species of ornament. Chateaubriand tells us that the Turks had a portion of this grotto: Buckingham asserts that they have no right to enter it, nor could he "learn from the keepers of the place that they ever had!" whereas the author of the Anonymous Journal, from which we have already quoted, states distinctly that "there is a place reserved for the Mussulmans to pray, which at the Virgin's Tomb one would not expect to be much in request." So much for the clashing of authorities on the part of writers who could have no wish to deceive!

There are various other grottoes on the acclivity of the hill, meant to keep alive the remembrance of certain occurrences which are either mentioned in the gospel, or have been transmitted to the present age by oral tradition. Among these is one which is supposed to be the scene of the agony and the bloody sweat; a second, that marks the place where St. Peter and the two sons of Zebedee fell asleep when their Master retired to pray; and a third, indicating the spot whereon Judas betrayed the Son of Man with a kiss. Here also is pointed out the rock from which our Saviour predicted the sack of Jerusalem and the destruction of the Temple,—that dreadful visitation, of which the traces are still most visible both within and around the walls. The curious pilgrim is further edified by the sight of a cavern where the apostles were taught the Lord's Prayer; and of another where the same individuals at a later period met together to compose their Creed. On the principal top of the Mount of Olives,—for the elevated ground presents three separate summits,—are a mosque and the remains of a church. The former is distinguished by a lofty minaret which commands an extensive prospect; but the latter is esteemed more remarkable, as containing the piece of rock imprinted with the mark of our Saviour's foot while in the act of ascension.

But the view of the venerable metropolis itself, which stretches out its lance and sacred enclosures under the eye of the traveller, is still more interesting than the recapitulation of ambiguous relics. It occupies an irregular square of about two miles and a half in circumference. Eusebius gave a measurement of twenty-seven stadia, amounting to nearly a mile more than its present dimensions; a difference which can easily be explained, by adverting to the alterations made on the line of fortifications by the Saracens and Turks, especially on the north-west and western extremities of the town. Its shortest apparent side is that which faces the east, and in this is the supposed gate of the ancient Temple, shut up by the Mussulmans from a superstitious motive, and the small projecting stone on which their prophet is to sit when he shall judge the world assembled in the vale below. The southern side is exceedingly irregular, taking quite a zigzag direction; the south-western entrance being terminated by a mosque built over the supposed sepulchre of David, on the elevation of Mount Zion. The form and exact direction of the western and northern walls are not distinctly seen from the position now assumed; but every part of them appears to be a modern work, and executed at the same time. They are flanked at certain distances by square towers, and have battlements all along their summits, with loopholes for arrows or musketry close to the top. Their height is about fifty feet, but they are not surrounded by a ditch. The northern wall runs over ground which declines slightly outward; the eastern wall passes straight along the brow of Mount Moriah, with the deep valley of Jehoshaphat below; the southern wall crosses Mount Zion, with the vale of Hinnom at its feet; and the western wall is carried over a more uniform level, near the summit of the bare hills which terminate at the Jaffa gate.[100]

Turning towards the east, the traveller sees at the foot of the hill the little village of Bethany, so often mentioned in the history of our Lord and of his personal followers; and at a greater distance, a little more on the left, he beholds the magnificent scenery of the Jordan and the Dead Sea.

There are two roads from Jerusalem to Bethany; the one passing over the Mount of Olives; the other, the shorter and easier, winding round the eastern side of it. This village is now both small and poor, the cultivation of the soil around it being very much neglected by the indolent Arabs into whose hands it has fallen. Here are shown the ruins of a house, said to have belonged to Lazarus whom our Saviour raised from the dead; and, in the immediate neighbourhood, the faithful pilgrim is invited to devotion in a grotto, which is represented as the actual tomb wherein the miracle was performed. The dwellings of Simon the Leper, of Mary Magdalene, and of Martha are pointed out by the Mussulmans, who traffic on the credulity of ignorant Christians. Nay, they undertake to identify the spot where the barren fig tree withered under the curse, and the place where Judas put an end to his life, oppressed by a more dreadful malediction.

There is no traveller of any nation, whatever may be his creed or his impressions in regard to the gospel, who does not make the usual journey from the Jewish capital to Bethlehem the place of our Lord's nativity. The road, as we find related, passes over ground extremely rocky and barren, diversified only by some cultivated patches bearing a scanty crop of grain, and by banks of wild-flowers which grow in great profusion. On the way the practised guide points out the ruined tower of Simeon, who upon beholding the infant Messiah expressed his readiness to leave this world; the Monastery of Elias, now in possession of the Greeks; and the tomb of Rachel, rising in a rounded top like the whitened sepulchre of an Arab sheik. "This," says the honest Maundrell, "may probably be the true place of her interment; but the present sepulchral monument can be none of that which Jacob erected, for it appears plainly to be a modern and Turkish structure." Farther on is the well of which David longed to drink, and of which his mighty men, at the risk of their lives, procured him a supply; and here opens to view, in a great valley, that most interesting of all pastoral scenes, where the angel of the Omnipotent appeared by night to the shepherds, to announce the glad tidings that Christ was born in Bethlehem.[101]

As there was another town of the same name in the tribe of Zebulon, the Bethlehem that we now approach was usually distinguished by the addition of Ephrata, or by a reference to the district in which it was situated. The convent which marks the place of the Redeemer's birth was built by Helena, after removing the idolatrous structure said to have been erected by Adrian from a feeling of contempt or jealousy towards the Christians. At present it is divided among the monks of the Greek, Roman, and Armenian sects, who have assigned to them separate portions, as well for lodging as for places of worship; though, on certain days, they may all celebrate the rites of their common faith on altars which none of them have been hitherto allowed to appropriate. There are two churches, an upper and a lower, under the same roof. The former contains nothing remarkable, if we except a star inlaid in the floor, immediately under the spot in the heavens where the supernatural sign became visible to the wise men, and, like it, directly above the place of the Nativity in the church below.

This last is an excavation in the rock, elegantly fitted up and floored with marble, and to which there is a descent by a flight of steps through a long narrow passage. Here are shown a great number of tombs, and among them one in which were said to be buried all the babes of Bethlehem murdered by the barbarous Herod. From hence the pilgrim is conducted into a handsome chapel, of which the floors and walls are composed of beautiful marble, having on each side five oratories, or recesses for prayer, corresponding to the ten stalls supposed to have been in the stable wherein our blessed Saviour was born. This sacred crypt is irregular in shape, because it occupies the site of the stable and the manger. It is thirty-seven feet six inches long, eleven feet three inches broad, and nine feet in height. As it receives no light from without, it is illumined by thirty-two lamps, sent by different princes of Christendom; the other embellishments are ascribed to the munificent Helena. At the farther extremity of this small church there is an altar placed in an arcade, and hollowed out below in the form of an arch, to embrace the sacred spot where Emmanuel, having laid aside his glory, first appeared in the garb of human nature. A circle in the floor composed of marble and jasper, surrounded with silver, and having rays like those with which the sun is represented, marks the precise situation wherein that stupendous event was realized. An inscription, denoting that "here Jesus Christ was born of the Virgin Mary," meets the eye of the faithful worshipper.

Hic de Virgine Maria Jesus Christus natus est.

Adjoining the Altar of the Nativity is the Manger in which the Infant Messiah was laid. It is also formed of marble, and is raised about eighteen inches above the floor, bearing a resemblance to the humble bed which alone the furniture of a stable could supply. Before it is the Altar of the Wise Men,—a memorial of their adoration and praise at the moment when they saw the young child and Mary his mother.

This edifice, says the Vicomte de Chateaubriand, is certainly of high antiquity, and, often destroyed and as often repaired, it still retains marks of its Grecian origin. It is built in the form of a cross, the nave being adorned with forty-eight columns of the Corinthian order in four rows, which are at least two feet six inches in diameter at the base, and eighteen feet high, including the base and capital. As the roof of the nave is wanting, these pillars support nothing but a frieze of wood, which occupies the place of the architrave and of the whole entablature. The windows are large, and were formerly adorned with Mosaic paintings and passages from the Bible in Greek and Latin characters, the traces of which are still visible.

The top of the church affords a fine prospect into the surrounding country, extending to Tekoa on the south and Engedi on the east. In the latter place is the grotto where David, a native of Bethlehem, cut off the skirt of Saul's garment. There is also the convent of Elias, in which is said to-be a large stone still retaining an impression of his body. Between this point and Jerusalem Mr. Buckingham was struck with the appearance of several small detached towers of a square form built in the midst of vine-lands. These, he learned, were for the accommodation of watchmen appointed to guard the produce from thieves and wild beasts; hence explaining a passage which occurs in the Gospel according to St. Mark:—"A certain man planted a vineyard, and set an hedge about it, and digged a place for the wine-fat, and built a tower, and let it out to husbandmen."[102]

It is painful to find that the same animosity which attends the claims of the several sects of Christians at Jerusalem for the possession of the Holy Sepulchre disgraces their contentions at Bethlehem for the Grotto of the Nativity. A few years ago, during the celebration of the Christmas festival, at which Mr. Bankes was present, a battle took place, in which some of the combatants were wounded, and others severely beaten; and in the preceding season the privilege of saying mass at the altar on that particular day had been fought for at the door of the sanctuary itself with drawn swords.

Dr. Clarke, whose skepticism in regard to the holy places in the capital has been already mentioned, grants that the tradition respecting the Cave of the Nativity is so well authenticated as hardly to admit of dispute. Having been always held in veneration, the oratory established there by the first Christians attracted the notice and indignation of the heathens so early as the time of Adrian, who, as is elsewhere stated, ordered it to be demolished, and the place to be set apart for the rites of Adonis. This happened in the second century, and at a period in the emperor's life when the Grotto of the Nativity was as well known in Bethlehem as the circumstance to which it owed its celebrity. In the fourth age, accordingly, we find this fact appealed to by St. Jerome as an indisputable testimony by which the cave itself had been identified. Upon this subject there does not seem to be the slightest ground for skepticism; and the evidence afforded by such a writer will be deemed sufficient for believing that the monastery erected over the spot, and where he himself resided, does at this day point out the place of our Saviour's birth.[103]

Nothing, observes a late traveller, can be more pleasing, or better calculated to excite sentiments of devotion, than this subterranean church. It is adorned with pictures of the Italian and Spanish schools, representing the mysteries peculiar to the place,—the Virgin and Child, after Raphael; the Annunciation; the Adoration of the Wise Men; the Coming of the Shepherds; and all those miracles of mingled grandeur and innocence. The usual ornaments of the manger are of blue satin, embroidered with silver. Incense is continually smoking before the cradle of the Saviour. "I have heard an organ, touched by no ordinary hand, playing during mass the sweetest and most tender tunes of the best Italian composers. These concerts charm the Christian Arab, who, leaving his camels to feed, repairs, like the shepherds of old, to Bethlehem, to adore the King of Kings in his manger. I have seen this inhabitant of the desert communicate at the altar of the Magi with a fervour, a piety, a devotion unknown among the Christians of the West." No place in the world, says Father Neret, excites more profound devotion. The continual arrival of caravans from all the Nations of Christendom—the public prayers—the prostrations—nay, even the richness of the presents sent thither by the Christian princes—altogether produce feelings in the soul which it is much easier to conceive than to describe.[104]

It may be added, that the effect of all this is heightened by an extraordinary contrast; for, on quitting the grotto where you have met with the riches, the arts, the religion of civilized nations, you find yourself in a profound solitude, amid wretched Arab huts, among half-naked savages and faithless Mussulmans. This place is nevertheless the same where so many miracles were displayed; but this sacred land dares no more express its joy, and locks within its bosom the recollections of its glory.

Bethlehem has usually shared the vicissitudes of Jerusalem, being, both from its situation and the nature of the relics which it contains, exposed to the rage or cupidity of barbarian conquerors. It fell under the power of the Saracens when led by their victorious calif; but for seven centuries it has been guarded by a succession of religious persons who, it has been said, suffer a perpetual martyrdom. In the time of Volney, they reckoned about six hundred men in this village capable of bearing arms, of whom about one hundred were Latin Christians. The necessity of uniting for their common defence against the Bedouins, and the still morn relentless agents of despotism, has in many instances prevailed over points of faith, and induced the monks to live on good terms with the Mohammedans. Mr. Buckingham assures us, that at present the town is equal to Nazareth in extent, and contains from 1000 to 1500 inhabitants, who are almost wholly Christians. Dr. Richardson gives the number at 300, an estimate, we should imagine, considerably below the actual population. The men are robust and well made, and the women are among the fairest and most handsome, that are to be seen in Palestine.

The neighbourhood of Bethlehem presents a variety of objects too important to be passed without a slight notice. The Pools of Solomon, connected, it is probable, with a scheme for supplying Jerusalem with water; are usually visited by the more enlightened class of travellers, who combine in their researches a regard to the arts as well as to the religion of Judea. These reservoirs are four, in number, being so disposed, says Maundrell, that the water of the uppermost may descend into the second, and that of the second into the third. Their figure is quadrangular; the breadth is the same in all, amounting to about ninety paces. In their length there is some difference; the first being one hundred and sixty paces long, the second two hundred and the third two hundred and twenty. They are all lined with masonry and plastered. The springs whence the pools are supplied seem to have been secured with great care, having, says the author of the Journey from Aleppo, "no avenue to them but by a little hole like to the mouth of a narrow well." Through this hole you descend directly about four yards, when you come to a chamber forty-five feet long and twenty-four broad, adjoining to which there is another apartment of the same kind, but not quite so large. Both these rooms are neatly arched, and have an air of great antiquity. The water, which rises from four separate sources, is partly conveyed by a subterranean passage into the ponds; the remainder being received into an aqueduct of brick pipes, and carried by many turnings and windings among the mountains to the walls of Jerusalem. The monks of Bethlehem are perfectly convinced that it was in allusion to this guarded treasure, so valuable in Palestine, that Solomon called his beloved spouse a "sealed fountain."

Of the aqueduct here mentioned some traces are still to be detected in the intermediate space, and denote an acquaintance with the principles of hydraulics which we could not have expected among Hebrew architects. It was constructed all along upon the surface of the ground, and framed of perforated stones let into one another, with a fillet round the cavity, so contrived as to prevent leakage, and united together with so firm a cement that they will sometimes sooner break than endure a separation. These pipes were covered with an arch, or layer of flags, strengthened by the application of a peculiarly strong mortar; the whole "being endued with such absolute firmness as if it had been designed for eternity. But the Turks have demonstrated in this instance, that nothing can be so well wrought but they are able to destroy it; fur of this strong aqueduct, which was carried formerly five or six leagues with so vast expense and labour, you see now only here and there a fragment remaining."[105]

In a valley contiguous to Bethlehem are the remains of a church and convent which were erected by the pious empress over the place where the angels appeared to the shepherds. Nothing has survived the desolation to which every edifice in Palestine has been repeatedly subjected but a small grotto wherein the heavenly communication was vouchsafed to the simple keepers of the flock.

On the way back to Jerusalem the traveller is induced to leave the more direct route, that he may visit the Convent of St. John in the Desert. This monastery is built over the dwelling where the Baptist is supposed to have first seen the light; and accordingly, under the altar, the spot on which he was brought forth is marked by a star of marble bearing this inscription:—

"Hic precursor Domini Christi natus est."
Here the forerunner of the Lord Christ was born.

The church belonging to this establishment has been described as one of the best in the Holy Land, having an elegant cupola and a pavement of Mosaic, with some paintings. But the appearance, nevertheless, is poor and deserted, as if its votaries were few, and but little concerned in preserving its ancient grandeur. The account given of it by Sandys will amuse the reader by the simplicity of the narrative as well as by the deep interest the good man felt in the various scenes which passed before him:—"Having travelled about a mile and a halfe farther, we came to the cave where the baptist is said to have lived from the age of seven until such time as he went into the wilderness by Jordan, sequestered from the abode of man, and feeding on such wilde nourishment as these uninhabited places afforded. This cave is seated on the northern side of a desert mountaine,—only beholden to the locust-tree,—hewne out of the precipitating rock, so as difficultly to be ascended or descended to, entered at the east corner, and receiving light from a window in the side. At the upper end there is a bench of the selfesame, whereon, they say, he accustomed to sleeps; of which whoso breaks a piece off stands forthwith excommunicate. Over this, on a little flat stand the ruins of a monastery, on the south aide, naturally walled with the steepe of a mountain; from whence there gusheth a living spring which entereth the rock, and again bursteth forth beneathe the mouth of the cave,—a place that would make solitarinesse delightful, and stand in comparison with the turbulent pompe of cities. This overlooketh a profound valley, on the far side hemmed with aspiring mountains, whereof some are cut (or naturally so) in degrees like allies, which would be else unaccessibly fruitlesse; whose levels yet bear the stumps of decayed vines, shadowed not rarely with olives and locusts. And surely I think that all or most of those mountains have bin so husbanded, else could this little country have never sustained such a multitude of people. After we had fed of such provision as was brought us from the city by other of the fraternitie that there met us, we turned towards Jerusalem, leaving the way of Bethlehem on the right-hand, and that of Emmaus on the left. The first place of note that we met with was there where once stood the dwelling of Zachary, seated on the side of a fruitful hill, well stored with olives and vineyards. Hither came the blessed Virgin to visit her cousin Elisabeth. Here died Elisabeth, and here, in a grot, on the aide of a vault or chapell, lies buried; over which a goodly church war erected, together with a monastery, whereof now little standeth but a part of the walls, which offer to the view some fragments of painting, which show that the rest have been exquisit. Beyond and lower is Our Lady's Fountaine (so called of the inhabitants), which maintaineth a little current thorow the neighbouring valley. Near this, in the bottome and uttermost extent thereof, there standeth a temple, once sumptuous, now desolate, built by Helena, and dedicated to St. John Baptist, in the place where Zachary had another house, possest, as the rest, by the beastly Arabians, who defile it with their cattell, and employ to the basest of uses."[106]

It is a point still unsettled, whether the food of him who was sent to prepare the way consisted of fruit or of insects; the name locust being indiscriminately applied to either, and both being used by the inhabitants of Palestine. There is less doubt in regard to the opinions of the early Christians, who were unanimous in the belief that the Baptist lived on the produce of a particular tree which still abounds in the desert. Nay, the friars at the present day assert, that the very plants which yielded sustenance to the holy recluse continue to flourish in their ancient vigour; and the popish pilgrims, says Mr. Maundrell, who dare not be wiser than such blind guides, gather the fruit of them, and carry it away with much devotion.

But we must not permit the interesting associations of Bethlehem to detain us any longer in its vicinity. We proceed now towards the extremity of the Dead Sea; whence, after having visited the most remarkable scenes on its western shore,—the mouth of the Jordan and the position of Jericho,—we shall return to the capital by a different route.

After having satisfied his curiosity in church and convent, the traveller turns his face southward to Tekoa and Hebron, those remoter villages of the Holy Land. The former, which was built by Rehoboam, and is distinguished as the birthplace of Amos the prophet, presents considerable ruins, and even some remains of architecture. It appears to have stood upon a hill, which Pococke describes as being about half a mile in length and a furlong broad. On the north-eastern corner there are fragments of an old building, supposed to have been a fortress, while about half-way up the accent there are similar indications of a church now in a state of complete dilapidation. There is preserved, however, a large font of an octagon form, composed of red and white marble; as also pieces of broken pillars consisting of the same material.

Farther towards the south, various manifestations present themselves of ancient civilization, the traces of which are most distinctly marked by places of worship and numerous strongholds. The traveler just named mentions a ruined castle called Creightoun, situated on the side of a steep hill, and a church dedicated to St. Pantaleone. At a little distance there is an immense grotto, which is said on one occasion to have contained 30,000 men; and hence it is conjectured to be one of those retreats in the fastnesses of Engedi to which David fled from the pursuit of Saul. About two miles farther, in a south-eastern direction, is the Mount of Bethulia, near a village of the same name; a position which is thought to agree with that of Beth-haccerem, specified by Jeremiah as a proper place for a beacon, where the children of Benjamin were to sound the trumpet in Tekoa.[107]

There is a tradition that the knights of Jerusalem, during the Holy War, held this strong post forty years after the capital had fallen. It is a single hill, and very high; and the top of it appears like a large mount formed by art, being defended by a double line of fortifications and several towers, which in a rude state of warfare might be pronounced almost impregnable. At the foot of an eminence towards the north there are the remains of a magnificent church as well as of other buildings. On a slope a little farther west there is a cistern connected with a pond, which appears to have had an island in it, and probably some structure suited to the supply of water. These works were also encompassed with a double wall; and it is said that two aqueducts may still be perceived terminating in the basin, one from the Sealed Fountain of Solomon, and another from the hilly district which stretches between Bethlehem and Tekoa.

In reference to the tradition that the knights of Jerusalem held the garrison of Bethulia forty years, Captain Mangles remarks, that the place is too small to have contained even half the number of men which would have been requisite to make any stand in such a country; and the ruins, though they may be those of a place once defended by Franks, appear to have had an earlier origin, as the architecture seems to be decidedly Roman. There can be little doubt, indeed, that it is one of the works of Herod the Great; and its distance does not differ much from that of Herodium, which is described by Josephus as being about sixty furlongs from the metropolis. The delineation of the hill, too, by the same historian, corresponds with the Mount of the Franks; and when he adds that water was conveyed to it at a great expense, we cannot permit ourselves to question the identity of Herodium and the fortress of Bethulia.[108]

Hebron, Habroun, or, according to the Arabic orthography followed by the moderns, El Hhalil, is considerably removed from the usual track of pilgrims and tourists. An accident or quarrel once excited the indignation of the inhabitants against the Franks, who during a long course of time were dissuaded by the Monks at Jerusalem from extending their researches beyond Bethlehem. Sandys could only report, apparently on the information of others, that Hebron was reduced to ruins; but he adds, there is a little village seated in the field of Machpelah, "where standeth a goodly temple, erected over the burying-cave of the patriarchs by Helena, the mother of Constantine, converted now into a mosque." Without minutely analyzing the topography of this rather credulous author, we may repeat the assurance which he gives relative to the existence of the imperial monument dedicated to the memory of Abraham and his immediate descendants. M. Burckhardt, who saw it in 1807, bears testimony to the fact that the sepulchre, once a Greek church, is now appropriated to the worship of Mohammed. The ascent to it is by a large and fine staircase that leads to a long gallery, the entrance to which is by a small court. Towards the left is a portico resting upon square pillars The vestibule of the temple contains two rooms; the one being the tomb of Abraham, the other that of Sarah. In the body of the church, between two large pillars on the right, is seen a small recess, in which is the sepulchre of Isaac, and in a similar one upon the left is that of his wife. On the opposite side of the court is another vestibule, which has also two rooms, being respectively the tomb of Jacob and of his spouse. At the extremity of the portico, upon the right-hand, is a door which leads to a sort of long gallery that still serves for a mosque; and passing from thence is observed another room containing the ashes of Joseph, which are said to have been carried thither by the people of Israel. All the sepulchres of the patriarchs are covered with rich carpets of green silk, magnificently embroidered with gold; those of their wives are red, embroidered in like manner. The sultans of Constantinople furnish these carpets, which are renewed from time to time. M. Burckhardt counted nine, one over another, upon the sepulchre of Abraham. The rooms also which contain the tombs are covered with rich carpets; the entrance to them is guarded by iron gates, and wooden doors plated with silver, having halts and padlocks of the same metal. More than a hundred persons are employed in the service of this temple; affording, with the decorations and wealth lavished upon the structure, a remarkable contrast to the simple life of the venerable man to whose memory it is meant to do honour.

If the description given by Sandys in the seventeenth century was correct, we must conclude that Hebron has subsequently enjoyed a period of improvement. According to the traveller whom we have just quoted, it contains about four hundred families, of which about a fourth part are Jews. It is situated on the slope of a mountain; has a strong castle; can boast abundance of provisions, a considerable number of shops, and some neat houses. The whole of the country between Tekoa and Hebron is finer and better cultivated than in the neighbourhood of Jerusalem; while the sides of the hills, instead of being naked and dreary, are richly studded with the oak, the arbutus, the Scottish fir, and a variety of flowering-shrubs.

Beyond this point the information of Europeans ceased until about twelve years ago, when the desert which stretches between the Sepulchre of Abraham and the Dead Sea was entered by Mr. Bankes, Mr. Legh, and Captains Irby and Mangles. After a journey of three days from Hebron towards the south, the travellers were informed of extensive ruins at Abdi in the Wilderness. On turning their faces to Kerek, the object of their search, the road led in the direction of the Lake Asphaltites, through a country which, although well cultivated, was extremely uninteresting. They observed a variety of ruins, with some subterranean tombs in the neighbourhood, denoting the existence of an ancient town; when, after having advanced eight or nine miles farther, they found themselves on the borders of an extensive desert, entirely abandoned to the wandering Bedouins. Near the point at which this change of aspect begins is a place called by the natives Al-baid, where there is a fountain in the rock and a pool of greenish water.

The travellers, at some distance from this halting-place, arrived at a camp of Jellaheen Arabs, who told them that in years of scarcity they were accustomed to retire into Egypt,—a practice which seems to have been handed down from the days of the patriarchs, or dictated by the same necessity that compelled the family of Jacob to adopt a similar expedient. At the distance of eight hours from Al-baid, in a deep barren valley, are the ruins of an old Turkish fort, standing on a solitary rock to the left of the track. Farther on the cliff is excavated, at a considerable height, into loopholes; where it is probable a barrier was formerly established for levying a certain duty on goods and travellers. The place is called El Zowar, or El Ghor. From hence a gravelly ravine, studded with bushes of acacia and other shrubs, conducts to the great plain at the southern extremity of the Dead Sea; bounded at the distance of eight or nine miles by a sandy cliff at least seventy feet high, which forms a barrier to the lake when at its greatest elevation. The existence of that long valley which extends from Asphaltites to the AElanitic Gulf was first ascertained by Burckhardt; and the prolongation of it, as connected with the hollow of the Jordan, has been considered as a proof that the river at one time discharged its waters into the eastern branch of the Red Sea. The change is attributed to that great volcanic convulsion mentioned in the nineteenth chapter of Genesis, which, interrupting the course of the river, converted into a lake the fertile plain occupied by the cities of Adma, Zeboim, Sodom, and Gomorrah, and reduced all the valley southward to the condition of a sandy waste.[109]

But, having reached the shores of the Dead Sea by an unfrequented path, we have no guide to the examination of the wild country which rises on either side of it; we therefore prefer the more wonted route which leads to its northern border, near the mouth of the Jordan and the site of the ancient Jericho. Avoiding, at the same time, the track of the caravan from Jerusalem through the hilly desert which intervenes, we shall accompany the Vicomte de Chateaubriand from Bethlehem through the interesting Valley of Santa Saba.

On leaving the Church of the Nativity the traveller pursues his course eastward, through a vale where Abraham is said to have fed his flocks. This pastoral tract, however, is soon succeeded by a range of hilly ground, so extremely barren that not even a root of moss is to be seen upon it. Descending the farther side of this meager platform two lofty towers are perceived, rising from a deep valley, marking the site of the Convent of Santa Saba. Nothing can be more dreary than the situation of this religious house. It is erected in a ravine, sunk to the depth of several hundred feet, where the brook Kedron has formed a channel, which is dry the greater part of the year. The church is on a little eminence at the bottom of the dell; Whence the buildings of the monastery rise by perpendicular flights of steps and passages hewn out of the rock, and thus ascend to the ridge of the hill, where they terminate is the two square towers already mentioned. From hence you descry the sterile summits of the mountains both towards the east and west; the course of the stream from Jerusalem; and the numerous grottoes formerly occupied by Christian anchorites.

In advancing, the aspect of the country still continues the same, white and dusty, without tree, herbage, or even moss. At length the road seeks a lower level, and approaches the rocky border which bounds the Valley of the Jordan; when, after a toilsome journey of ten or twelve hours, the traveller sees stretching out before his eyes the Dead Sea and the line of the river. But the landscape, however grand, admits of no comparison to the scenery of Europe. No fields waving with corn,—no plains covered with rich pasture present themselves from the mountains of Lower Palestine. Figure to yourself two long chains of mountains, running in a parallel direction from north to south, without breaks and without undulations. The eastern or Arabian chain is the highest; and, when seen at the distance of eight or ten leagues, you would take it to be a prodigious perpendicular wall, resembling Mount Jura in its form and azure colour. Not one summit, not the smallest peak can be distinguished; you merely perceive slight inflections here and there, "as if the hand of the painter who drew this horizontal line along the sky had trembled in some places."

The mountains of Judea form the range on which the observer stands as he looks down on the Lake Asphaltites. Less lofty and more unequal than the eastern chain, it differs from the other in its nature also; exhibiting heaps of chalk and sand, whose form, it is said, bears some resemblance to piles of arms, waving standards, or the tents of a camp pitched on the border of a plain. The Arabian side, on the contrary, presents nothing but black precipitous rocks, which throw their lengthened shadow over waters of the Dead Sea. The smallest bird of heaven would not find among these crags a single blade of grass for its sustenance; every thing announces the country of a reprobate people, and well fitted to perpetuate the punishment denounced against Ammon and Moab.

The valley confined by these two chains of mountains displays a soil resembling the bottom of a sea which has long retired from its bed, a beach covered with salt, dry mud, and moving sands, furrowed, as it were, by the waves. Here and there stunted shrubs vegetate with difficulty upon this inanimate tract; their leaves are covered with salt, and their bark has a smoky smell and taste. Instead of villages you perceive the ruins of a few towers. In the middle of this valley flows a discoloured river, which reluctantly throws itself into the pestilential lake by which it is engulfed. Its course amid the sands can be distinguished only by the willows and the reeds that border it; among which the Arab lies in ambush to attack the traveller and to murder the pilgrim.[110]

M. Chateaubriand remarks, that when you travel in Judea the heart is at first filled with profound melancholy. But when, passing from solitude to solitude, boundless space opens before you, this feeling wears off by degrees, and you experience a secret awe, which, so far from depressing the soul, imparts life and elevates the genius. Extraordinary appearances everywhere proclaim a land teeming with miracles. The burning sun, the towering eagle, the barren fig-tree, all the poetry, all the pictures of Scripture are here. Every name commemorates a mystery,—every grotto announces a prediction,—every hill reechoes the accents of a prophet. God himself has spoken in these regions, dried up rivers, rent the rocks, and opened the grave. "The desert still appears mute with terror; and you would imagine that it had never presumed to interrupt the silence since it heard the awful voice of the Eternal."

The celebrated lake which occupies the site of Sodom and Gomorrah is called in Scripture the Dead Sea. Among the Greeks and Latins it is known by the name of Asphaltites; the Arabs denominate it Bahar Loth, or Sea of Lot. M. de Chateaubriand does not agree with those who conclude it to be the crater of a volcano; for, having seen Vesuvius, Solfatara, the Peak of the Azores, and the extinguished volcanoes of Auvergne, he remarked in all of them the same characters; that is to say, mountains excavated in the form of a tunnel, lava, and ashes, which exhibited incontestable proof of the agency of fire. The Salt Sea, on the contrary, is a lake of great length, curved like a bow, placed between two ranges of mountains, which have no mutual coherence of form, no similarity of composition. They do not meet at the two extremities of the lake; but while the one continues to bound the valley of Jordan, and to run northward as far as Tiberias, the other stretches away to the south till it loses itself in the sands of Yemen. There are, it is true, hot springs, quantities of bitumen, sulphur, and asphaltos; but these of themselves are not sufficient to attest the previous existence of a volcano. With respect, indeed, to the ingulfed cities, if we adopt the idea of Michaelis and of Büsching, physics may be admitted to explain the catastrophe without offence to religion. According to their views, Sodom was built upon a mine of bitumen,—a fact which is ascertained by the testimony of Moses and Josephus, who speak of wells of naphtha in the Valley of Siddim. Lightning kindled the combustible mass, and the guilty cities sank in the subterraneous conflagration. Malte Brun ingeniously suggests that Sodom and Gomorrah themselves may have been built of bituminous stones, and thus have been set in flames by the fire from heaven.

According to Strabo, there were thirteen towns swallowed up in the Lake Asphaltites; Stephen of Byzantium reckons eight; the book of Genesis, while it names five as situated in the Vale of Siddim, relates the destruction of two only: four are mentioned in Deuteronomy, and five are noticed by the author of Ecclesiasticus. Several travellers, and among others Troilo and D'Arvieux, assure us, that they observed fragments of walls and palaces in the Dead Sea. Maundrell himself was not so fortunate, owing, he supposes, to the height of the water; but he relates that the Father Guardian and Procurator of Jerusalem, both men of sense and probity, declared that they had once actually seen one of these ruins; that it was so near the shore, and the lake so shallow, that they, together with some Frenchmen, went to it, and found there several pillars and other fragments of buildings. The ancients speak more positively on this subject. Josephus, who employs a poetical expression, says, that he perceived on the shores of the Dead Sea the shades of the overwhelmed cities. Strabo gives a circumference of sixty stadia to the ruins of Sodom, which are also mentioned by Tacitus.[111]

It is surprising that no pains have been taken by recent travellers to throw light upon this interesting point, or even to learn whether the periodical rise and fall of the lake affords any means for determining the accuracy of the ancient historians and geographers. Should the Turks ever give permission, and should it be found practicable, to convey a vessel from Jaffa to this inland sea, some curious discoveries would certainly be made. Is it not amazing that, notwithstanding the enterprise of modern science, the ancients were better acquainted with the properties, and even the dimensions of the Lake Asphaltites, than the most learned nations of Europe in our own times? It is described by Aristotle, Strabo, Diodorus Siculus, Pliny, Tacitus, Solinus, Josephus, Galen, and Dioscorides. The Abbot of Santa Saba is the only person for many centuries who has made the tour of the Dead Sea. From his account we learn, through the medium of Father Nau, that at its extremity it is separated, as it were, into two parts, and that there is a way by which you may walk across it, being only mid-leg deep, at least in summer; that there the land rises, and bounds another small lake of a circular or rather an oval figure, surrounded with plains and hills of salt; and that the neighbouring country is peopled by innumerable Arabs.[112]

It is known that seven considerable streams fall into this basin, and hence it was long supposed that it must discharge its superfluous stores by subterranean channels into the Mediteranean or the Red Sea. This opinion is now everywhere relinquished, in consequence of the learned remarks on the effect of evaporation in a hot climate, published by Dr. Halley many years ago; the justness of which were admitted by Dr. Shaw, though he calculated that the Jordan alone threw into the lake every day more than six million tuns of water. It is deserving of notice, that the Arabian philosophers, if we may believe Mariti, had anticipated Halley in his conclusions in regard to the absorbent power of a dry atmosphere.[113]

The marvellous properties usually assigned to the Dead Sea by the earlier travellers have vanished upon a more rigid investigation. It is now known that bodies sink or float upon it, in proportion to their specific gravity; and that, although the water is so dense as to be favourable to swimmers, no security is found against the common accident of drowning. Josephus indeed asserts that Vespasian, in order to ascertain the fact now mentioned, commanded a number of his slaves to be bound hand and foot and thrown into the deepest part of the lake; and that, so far from any of them sinking, they all maintained their place on the surface until it pleased the emperor to have them taken out. But this anecdote, although perfectly consistent with truth, does not justify all the inferences which have been drawn from it. "Being willing to make an experiment," says Maundrell, "I went into it, and found that it bore up my body in swimming with an uncommon force; but as for that relation of some authors, that men wading into it were buoyed up to the top as soon as they got as deep as the middle, I found it, upon trial, not true."[114]

The water of this sea has been frequently analyzed both in France and England. The specific gravity of it, according to Malte Brun, is 1.211, that of fresh water being 1.000. It is perfectly transparent. The applications of tests, or reagents, prove that it contains the muriatic and sulphuric acids. There is no alumina in it, nor does it appear that it is saturated with marine salt or muriate of soda. It holds in solution the following substances, and in the proportions here stated:

Muriate of lime 3.920
Magnesia 10.246
Soda 10.360
Sulphate of lime .054

We need not add that such a liquid must be equally salt and bitter. As might be expected, too, it is found to deposit its salts in copious incrustations, and to prove a ready agent in all processes of petrifaction. Clothes, boots, and hats, if dipped in the lake, or accidentally wetted with its water, are found, when dried, to be covered with a thick coating of these minerals. Hence, we cannot be surprised to hear that the Lake Asphaltites does not present any variety of fish. Mariti asserts that it produces none, and even that those which are carried into it by the rapidity of the Jordan perish almost immediately upon being immerged in its acrid waves. A few shell-snails constitute the sole tenants of its dreary shores, unmixed either with the helix or the muscle.

It was formerly believed that the approach to Asphaltites was fatal to birds, and that, like another lake of antiquity, it had the power of drawing them down from the wing into its poisonous waters. This dream, propagated by certain visionary travellers, is now completely discredited. Flocks of swallows may be seen skimming along its surface with the utmost impunity, while the absence of all other species is easily explained by a glance at the naked hills and barren plains, which supply no vegetable food.

The historian Josephus, who measured the Dead Sea, found that in length it extended about five hundred and eighty stadia, and in breadth one hundred and fifty,—according to our standard, somewhat more than seventy miles by nineteen. A recent traveller, to whose unpublished journal we have repeatedly alluded, remarks that the lake, when he visited it, was sunk or hollow, and that the banks had been recently under water, being still very miry and difficult to pass. The shores were covered with dry wood, some of it good timber, which they say is brought by the Jordan from the country of the Druses. "The water is pungently salt, like oxymuriate of soda. It is incredibly buoyant. G—— bathed in it, and when he lay still on his back or belly, he floated with one-fourth at least of his whole body above the water. He described the sensation as extraordinary, and more like lying on a feather-bed than floating on water. On the other hand, he found the greatest resistance in attempting to move through it: it smarted his eyes excessively. I put a piece of stick in: it required a good deal of pressure to make it sink, and when let go it bounded out again like a blown bladder. The water was clear, and of a yellowish tinge, which might be from the colour of the stones at bottom, or from the hazy atmosphere. There were green shrubs down to the water's edge in one place, and nothing to give an idea of any thing blasting in the neighbourhood of the sea; the desert character of the soil extending far beyond the possibility of being affected by its influence."[115]

The bitumen supplied by this singular basin affords the means of a comfortable livelihood to a considerable number of Arabs who frequent its shores. The Pasha of Damascus, who finds it a valuable article of commerce, purchases at a small price the fruit of their labours, or supplies them with food, clothing, and a few ornaments in return for it. In ancient times it found a ready market in Egypt, where it was used in large quantities for embalming the dead: it was also occasionally employed as a substitute for stone, and appeared in the walls of houses and even of temples.

Associated with the Dead Sea, every reader has heard of the apples of Sodom, a species of fruit which, extremely beautiful to the eye, is bitter to the taste, and full of dust. Tacitus, in the fifth book of his history, alludes to this singular fact, but, as usual, in language so brief and ambiguous, that no light can be derived from his description, atra et inania velut in cinerem vanescunt. Some travellers, unable to discover this singular production, have considered it merely as a figure of speech, depicting the deceitful nature of all vicious enjoyments. Hasselquist regards it as the production of a small plant called Solanum melongena, a species of nightshade, which is to be found abundantly in the neighbourhood of Jericho. He admits that the apples are sometimes full of dust; but this, he maintains, appears only when the fruit is attacked by a certain insect, which converts the whole of the inside into a kind of powder, leaving the rind wholly entire, and in possession of its beautiful colour.

M. Seetzen, again, holds the novel opinion, that this mysterious apple contains a sort of cotton resembling silk; and, having no pulp or flesh in the inside, might naturally enough, when sought for as food, be denounced by the hungry Bedouin as pleasing to the eye and deceitful to the palate. Chateaubriand has fixed on a shrub different from any of the others. It grows two or three leagues from the mouth of the Jordan, and is of a thorny appearance, with small tapering leaves. Its fruit is exactly like that of the Egyptian lemon, both in size and colour. Before it is ripe it is filled with a corrosive and saline juice; when dried, it yields a blackish seed that may be compared to ashes, and which in taste resembles bitter pepper. There can be little doubt that this is the true apple of Sodom, which flatters the sight while it mocks the appetite.[116]

In ascending the western shore, the traveller at length reaches the point where the Jordan mixes its muddy waters with those of the lake. Hasselquist, the only modern author who describes the mouth of that celebrated river, tells us that the plain which extends from thence to Jericho, a distance of more than three leagues, is, generally speaking, level, but uncultivated and barren. The soil is a grayish sandy clay, so loose that the horses often sank up to the knees in it. The whole surface of the earth is covered with salt in the same manner as on the banks of the Nile, and would, it is probable, prove no less fruitful were it irrigated with equal care. The stones on the beach, it is added, were all quartz, but of various colours; some specimens of which, having a slaty structure, emitted, when exposed to fire, a strong smell of bitumen, thereby denoting, perhaps, its volcanic origin.

There is a great want of unanimity among authors in respect to the width of the Jordan. The Swede whom we have just quoted relates, that opposite to Jericho it was eight paces over, the banks perpendicular, six feet in height, the water deep, muddy, warm rather than cold, and much inferior in quality to that of the Nile. Chateaubriand, again, who measured it in several places, reports that it was about fifty feet in breadth, and six feet deep close to the shore,—a discrepancy which must arise from the period of the year when it was seen by these distinguished writers.[117]

The Old Testament abounds with allusions to the swellings of Jordan; but at present, whether the current has deepened its channel, or whether the climate is less moist than in former days, this occurrence is seldom witnessed,—the river has forgotten its ancient greatness. Maundrell could discern no sign or probability of such overflowings; for although he was there on the 30th of March,—the proper season of the inundation,—the river was running two yards at least under the level of its banks. The margin of the stream, however, continues as of old to be closely covered with a natural forest of tamarisk, willows, oleanders, and similar trees, and to afford a retreat to several species of wild beasts. Hence the fine metaphor of the prophet Jeremiah, who assimilates an enraged enemy to a lion coming up "from the swellings of Jordan," driven from his lair by the annual flood, and compelled to seek shelter in the surrounding desert.

Jericho, which is at present a miserable village inhabited by half-naked Arabs, derives all its importance from history. It was the first city which the Israelites reduced upon entering the Holy Land. Five hundred and thirty years afterward it was rebuilt by Heliel of Bethel, who succeeded in restoring its population, its splendour, and its commerce; in which flourishing condition it appears to have continued during several centuries. Mark Antony, in the pride of power, presented to Cleopatra the whole territory of Jericho. Vespasian, in the course of the sanguinary war which he prosecuted in Judea, sacked its walls, and put its inhabitants to the sword. Re-established by Adrian in the 138th year of our faith, it was doomed at no distant era to experience new disasters. It was again repaired by the Christians, who made it the seat of a bishop; but in the twelfth century it was overthrown by the infidels, and has not since emerged from its ruins. Of all its magnificent buildings there remain only the part of one tower, supposed to be the dwelling of Zaccheus the publican, and a quantity of rubbish, which is understood to mark the line of its ancient walls.

Mr. Buckingham saw reason to believe that the true site of Jericho, as described by Josephus, was at a greater distance from the river than the village of Rahhah, commonly supposed to represent the City of Palms. Descending from the mountains which bound the valley on the western side, he observed the ruins of a large settlement, covering at least a square mile, whence, as well as from the remains of aqueducts and fountains, he was led to conclude that it must have been a place of considerable consequence. Some of the more striking objects among the wrecks of this ancient city were large tumuli, evidently the work of art, and resembling those of the Greek and Trojan heroes on the plains of Ilium. There were, besides, portions of ruined buildings, shafts of columns, and a capital of the Corinthian order; tokens not at all ambiguous of former grandeur and of civilized life.

Josephus fixes the position of Jericho at the distance of one hundred and fifty furlongs from Jerusalem, and sixty from the river Jordan; stating that the country, as far as the capital, is desert and hilly, while to the shores of the Lake Asphaltites it is low, though equally waste and unfruitful. Nothing can apply more accurately, in all its particulars, than this description does to the ruins just mentioned. The spot lies at the very foot of the sterile mountains of Judea, which may be said literally to overhang it on the west; and these ridges are still as barren, as rugged, and as destitute of inhabitants as formerly, throughout their whole extent, from the Lake of Tiberias to the Dead Sea. The distance, by the computation in time, amounted to six hours, or nearly twenty miles, from Jerusalem; the space between the supposed city and the river being little more than one-third of that amount, the precise proportion indicated by the Jewish historian.

The soil round Jericho was long celebrated for a precious balsam, which used to be sold for double its weight of silver. The historian Justin relates, that the trees from which it exudes bear a resemblance to firs, though they are lower, and are cultivated after the manner of vines. He adds, that the wealth of the Jewish nation arises from their produce, as they grow in no other part of Syria. At present, however, there is not a tree of any description, either palm or balsam, to be seen near the site of this deserted town; but it is admitted, that the complete desolation with which its ruins are invested ought to be attributed to the cessation of industry rather than to any perceptible change either in the climate or the soil.

Rahhah stands about four miles nearer the river, or about half-way between the assumed position of Jericho and the bank of the current. It consists of about fifty dwellings, all very mean in their appearance, and every one fenced in front with thorny bushes; one of the most effectual defences that could be raised against the incursions of the Bedouins, whose horses will not approach these formidable thickets. The inhabitants, without exception, are professed believers in the creed of Islamism. Their habits are those of shepherds rather than of cultivators of the soil; this last duty, indeed, when performed at all, being done chiefly by the women and children, as the men roam the plain on horseback, and derive the principal means of subsistence from robbery and plunder. They are governed by a sheik, whose influence among them is more like the authority of a father over his children than that of a magistrate; and who is, moreover, checked in the exercise of his power, by the knowledge that he would instantly be deprived of life and station were he to exceed the bounds which, in all rude countries, are opposed even to the caprices of despotism. It is remarkable that the name of this village corresponds to Rahab, the name of the hostess who received into her house the Hebrew spies, and signifies odour or perfume; the slight change on the form of the Arabic term implying no difference in the import of the root whence they are both originally derived.

The mountains on the eastern side of the Jordan are more lofty than those which skirt the Vale of Jericho, being not less than 2000 feet in height. From the summit of a towering peak, which the traveller still delights to recognise, Moses was permitted to behold the promised inheritance, stretching towards the west, the south, and the north,—"All the land of Gilead unto Dan, and all Naphtali, and the land of Ephraim, and Manasseh, and all the land of Judah unto the utmost sea, and the south, and the plain of the Valley of Jericho, the city of palm-trees, unto Zoar. And the Lord said unto him, this is the land which I sware unto Abraham, unto Isaac, and unto Jacob, saying, I will give it unto thy seed: I have caused thee to see it with thine eyes, but thou shalt not go over thither. So Moses, the servant of the Lord, died there, in the land of Moab, according to the word of the Lord. And he buried him in a valley in the land of Moab, over against Beth-peor: but no man knoweth of his sepulchre unto this day."[118]

The road from Jericho to Jerusalem presents some historical reminiscences of the most interesting nature. When entering the mountains which protect the western side of the plain, the attention of the traveller is invited to the Fountain of Elisha, the waters of which were sweetened by the power of the prophet. The men of Jericho represented to him that though the situation of the town was pleasant, "the water was naught, and the ground barren. And he said, bring me a new cruse, and put salt therein: and they brought it to him. And he went forth unto the spring of the waters, and cast the salt in there, and said, thus with the Lord, I have healed these waters; there shall not be from thence any more death or barren land. So the waters were healed unto this day, according to the saying of Elisha which he spake."[119]

Its waters are at present received in a basin about nine or ten paces long, and five or six broad; and from thence, issuing out in good plenty, divide themselves into several small streams, dispersing their refreshment to all the land as far as Jericho, and rendering it exceedingly fruitful. Advancing into the savage country through which the usual road to the capital is formed, the tourist soon finds himself at the foot of the mountain called Quarantina, from being the supposed scene of the temptation and fast of forty days endured by our Saviour, who,

—"looking round on every aide, beheld
A pathless desert dusk with horrid shades:
The way he came not having marked, return
Was difficult, by human steps untrod;
And he still on was led, but with such thoughts
Accompanied of things past and to come
Lodg'd in his breast, as well might recommend
Such solitude before choicest society."[120]

The neighbourhood of this lofty eminence is, according to Mr. Maundrell, a dry, miserable, barren place, consisting of high rocky mountains, so torn and disordered, "as if the earth had here suffered some great convulsion, in which its very bowels had been turned outward." In a deep valley are seen the ruins of small cells and cottages, thought to be the remains of those sequestered habitations to which hermits were wont to retire for the uses of penance and mortification; and it is remarked that, in the whole earth, a more comfortless and desert place could not have been selected for so pious a purpose. From these hills of desolation, however, there is obtained a magnificent prospect of the Plain of Jericho, the Dead Sea, and of the distant summits of Arabia; for which reason the highest of the group has been assigned by tradition as the very spot whence all the kingdoms of the world were seen in a moment of time. It is, as St. Matthew styles it, an exceeding high mountain, and in its ascent not only difficult but dangerous. It has a small chapel at the top, and another about half-way down, founded upon a projecting part of the rock. Near the latter are observed several caves and holes, excavated by the solitaries, who thought it the most suitable place for undergoing the austerities of Lent,—a practice which has not even at the present day fallen altogether into disuse. Hasselquist describes the path as "dangerous beyond imagination. I went as far up on this terrible mountain of Temptation as prudence would admit, but ventured not to go to the top; whither I sent my servant to bring what natural curiosities he could find, while I gathered what plants and insects I could find below."[121]

Mariti, whose religious zeal was fanned into a temporary flame, ascended the formidable steep as far as the grottoes, which he delineates with much minuteness. He pronounces the chapel inaccessible from the side on which he stood, and is very doubtful whether it could now be approached on any quarter, the ancient road being so much neglected. But it should seem that most travellers are smitten with the feeling which seized the breast of Maundrell, although they all have not the candour to acknowledge it. Alluding to the Arabs, who demanded a sum of money for liberty to ascend, he says, "we departed without further trouble, not a little glad to have so good an excuse for not climbing so dangerous a precipice."[122]

The imagination of Milton has thrown a captivating splendour around this scene, which, at the same time, he appears to have transferred to the mountain-range beyond the Jordan in the country of the Moabites.

"Thus wore out night; and now the herald lark
Left his ground-nest, high towering to descry
The morn's approach, and greet her with his song,
As lightly from his grassy couch up rose
Our Saviour, and found all was but a dream;
Fasting he went to sleep, and fasting waked.
Up to a hill anon his steps he reared,
From whose high top to ken the prospect round,
If cottage were in view, sheepcote, or herd;
But cottage, herd, or sheepcote, none he saw;
Only in a bottom saw a pleasant grove,
With chant of tuneful birds resounding loud;
Thither he bent his way; determined there
To rest at noon, and entered soon the shade
High roofed, and walks beneath, and alleys brown,
That opened in the midst a woody scene."[123]

Leaving the Quarantina with its dreary scenes and solemn recollections, the pilgrim returning from the Jordan finds himself off a beaten path which, since the days of Moses, it is probable has connected the rocks of Salem with the banks of the sacred river. Chateaubriand informs us that it is broad, and in some parts paved; having undergone, as he conjectures, several improvements while the country was in possession of the Romans. On the top of a mountain there is the appearance of a castle, which, we may conclude, was meant to protect and command the road; and at a little distance, in the bottom of a deep gloomy valley is the Place of Blood, called in the Hebrew tongue Abdomim, where once stood a small town belonging to the tribe of Judah, and where the good Samaritan is imagined to have succoured the wounded traveller who had fallen into the hands of thieves. That sombre dell is still entitled to its horrible distinction; it is still the place of blood, of robbery, and of murder; the most dangerous pass for him who undertakes to go down from Jerusalem to Jericho.

As a proof of this, we may shortly mention an assault which was made upon Sir F. Henniker, who a few years ago resolved to accomplish that perilous journey. "The route is over hills, rocky, barren, and uninteresting. We arrived at a fountain, and here my two attendants paused to refresh themselves; the day was so hot that I was anxious to finish the journey and hasten forwards. A ruined building, situated on the summit of a hill, was now within sight, and I urged my horse towards it; the janizary galloped by me, and making signs for me not to precede him, he himself rode into and round the building, and then motioned me to advance. We next came to a hill, through the very apex of which has been cut a passage, the rocks overhanging it on either side. I was in the act of passing through this ditch when a bullet whizzed by close to my head. I saw no one, and had scarcely time to think when another was fired, some short distance in advance. I could yet see no one, the janizary was beneath the brow of the hill in his descent. I looked back, but my servant was not yet within sight. I looked up, and within a few inches of my head were three muskets, and three men taking aim at me. Escape or resistance was alike impossible. I got off my horse. Eight men jumped down from the rocks and commenced a scramble for me.—As he (the janizary) passed, I caught at a rope hanging from his saddle; I had hoped to leap upon his horse, but found myself unable; my feet were dreadfully lacerated by the honeycombed rocks; nature would support me no longer; I fell, but still clung to the rope; in this manner I was drawn some few yards, till, bleeding from my ankle to my shoulder, I resigned myself to my fate. As soon as I stood up one of my pursuers took aim at me; but the other, casually advancing between us, prevented his firing. He then ran up, and with his sword aimed such a blow as would not have required a second: his companion prevented its full effect, so that it merely cut my ear in halves, and laid open one aide of my face: they then stripped me naked."[124]

It is impossible not to suspect that the depraved government at Jerusalem connives at such instances of violence in order to give some value to the protection which they sell at a very dear rate to Christian travellers. The administration of Mohammed Ali would be a blessing to Palestine, inasmuch as it would soon render the intercourse between the capital and the Dead Sea as safe as that between Alexandria and Grand Cairo.

Refreshing himself at the fountain where our Lord and his apostles, according to a venerable tradition, were wont to rest on their journey to the holy city, the tourist sets his heart on revisiting the sacred remains of that decayed metropolis. When at the summit of the Mount of Olives, he is again struck with the mixture of magnificence and ruin which marks the queen of nations in her widowed estate. Owing to the clear atmosphere and the absence of smoke, the view is so distinct that one might count the separate houses. The streets are tolerably regular, straight, and well paved; but they are narrow and dull, and almost all on a declivity. The fronts of the houses, which are generally two or three stories high, are quite plain, simply constructed of stone, without the least ornament; so that in walking past them a stranger might fancy himself in the galleries of a vast prison. The windows are very few and extremely small; and, by a singular whim, the doors are so low that it is commonly requisite to bend the body nearly double in order to enter them. Some families have gardens of moderate dimensions; but, upon the whole, the ground within the walls is fully occupied with buildings, if we except the vast enclosures in which are placed the mosques and churches.

There is not observed at Jerusalem any square, properly so called; the shops and markets are universally opened in the public streets. Provisions are said to be abundant and cheap, including excellent meat, vegetables, and fruit. Water is supplied by the atmosphere; and preserved in capacious cisterns; nor is it necessary, except when a long drought has exhausted the usual stock, that the inhabitants should have recourse to the spring near the brook Kedron. Rice is much used for food; but as the country is quite unsuited to the production of that aquatic grain, it is imported from Egypt in return for oil, the staple of Palestine.

There is a great diversity of costume, everybody adopting that which he likes best, whether Arab, Syrian, or Turk; but the lower order of people generally wear a shirt fastened round the waist with a girdle, after the example of their neighbours in the desert. Ali Bey remarks, that he saw very few handsome females in the metropolis; on the contrary, they had in general that bilious appearance so common in the East,—a pale citron colour, or a dead yellow, like paper or plaster, and, wearing a white fillet round the circumference of their faces, they have not unfrequently the appearance of walking corpses. The children, however, are much healthier and prettier than those of Arabia and Egypt.

The Christians and Jews wear, as a mark of distinction, a blue turban. The villagers and shepherds use white ones, or striped like those of the Moslem. The Christian women appear in public with their faces uncovered, as they do in Europe.

The arts are cultivated to a certain extent, but the sciences have entirely disappeared. There existed formerly large schools belonging to the harem; but there are hardly any traces of them left, if their place be not supplied by a few small seminaries where children of every form of worship learn to read and write the code of their respective religion. The grossest ignorance prevails even among persons of high rank, who, on the first interview, appear to have received a liberal education.[125]

The Arabic language is generally spoken at Jerusalem, though the Turkish is much used among the better class. The inhabitants are composed of people of different nations and different religions, who inwardly despise one another on account of their varying opinions; but as the Christians are very numerous, there reigns among the whole no small degree of complaisance, as well as an unrestrained intercourse in matters of business, amusement, and even of religion.[126]

It is well remarked by Chateaubriand, who had travelled among the native tribes of North America as extensively as among the Arabs of the Syrian wilderness, that amid the rudeness of the latter you still perceive a certain degree of delicacy in their manners; you see that they are natives of that East which is the cradle of all the arts, all the sciences, all the religions. Buried at the extremity of the West, the Canadian inhabits valleys shaded by eternal forests and watered by immense rivers; the Arab, cast, as it were, upon the high road of the world between Africa and Asia, roves in the brilliant regions of Aurora over a soil without trees and without water.

The Jews—the children of the kingdom—have been cast out, and many have come from the east and the west to occupy their place in the desolate land promised to their fathers. They usually take up their abode in the narrow space between the Temple and the foot of Mount Zion, defended from the tyranny of their Turkish masters by their indigence and misery. Here they appear covered with rags, and sitting in the dust, with their eyes fixed on the ruins of their ancient sanctuary. It has been observed that those descendants of Abraham who come from foreign countries to fix their residence at Jerusalem live but a short time; while such as are natives of Palestine are so wretchedly poor as to be obliged to send every year to raise contributions among their brethren of Egypt and Barbary.[127]

The picture given by Dr. Richardson is much more flattering. He assures his readers that many of the Jews are rich and in comfortable circumstances; but that they are careful to conceal their wealth, and even their comfort, from the jealous eye of their rulers, lest, by awakening their cupidity, some plot of robbery or murder should be devised. The whole population has been estimated by different travellers as amounting to from fifteen to thirty thousand, consisting of Mohammedans, Jews, and the various sects of Christians.