The church, which is regarded as marking the site of the Holy Sepulchre, in Dr. Clarke's opinion, exhibits nowhere the slightest evidence which can entitle it to either of these appellations. He is, therefore, disposed to believe, that the crucifixion took place upon the opposite summit, now called Mount Sion.
Dr. Clarke says, in reference to another cavern: "There was one, which particularly attracted our notice, from its extraordinary coincidence with all the circumstances attaching to the history of our Saviour's tomb. The large stone which once closed its mouth had been, perhaps for ages, rolled away. Stooping down to look into it, we observed within a fair sepulchre, containing a repository upon one side only for a single body: whereas, in most of the others, there were two, and in many of them more than two. It is placed exactly opposite to that which is now called Mount Sion. As we viewed the sepulchre, and read upon the spot the description given of Mary Magdalene and the disciples coming in the morning,[325] it was impossible to divest our minds of the probability, that here might have been the identical tomb of Jesus Christ; and that up the steep, which led to it, after descending from the gate of the city, the disciples strove together,[326] when "John did out-run Peter, and came first to the sepulchre."[327]
"On leaving the Church of the Holy Sepulchre," says Mons. la Martine, "we followed the Via Dolorosa, of which M. de Chateaubriand has given so poetical an itinerary. Here is nothing striking, nothing verified, nothing even probable. Ruined houses, of modern construction, are everywhere exhibited to the pilgrims by the monks as incontestible vestiges of the various stations of Christ. The eye cannot even doubt; all confidence in these local traditions is annihilated beforehand by the history of the first years of Christianity, where we read that Jerusalem no longer retained one stone upon another, and that Christians were for many years exiled from the city. Some pools, and the tombs of her kings, are the only memorials Jerusalem retains of her past eventful story; a few sites alone can be recognised—as that of the Temple, indicated by its terraces, and now bearing the large and magnificent mosque of Omar al Sakara; Mount Sion occupied by the Armenian convent, and the tomb of David; and it is only with history in one's hand, and with a doubting eye, that the greater part of these can be assigned with any degree of precision. Except the terraced walls in the valley of Jehoshaphat, no stone bears its date in its form or colour;—all is in ashes, or all is modern. The mind wanders in uncertainty over the horizon of the city, not knowing where to rest; but the city itself, designated by the circumscribed hill on which it stood, by the different valleys which encircled it, and especially by the deep valley of Cedron, is a monument which no eye can mistake. There, truly, was Sion seated; a singular and unfortunate site for the capital of a great nation. It is rather the natural fortress of a small people, driven from the earth, and taking refuge, with their God and their Temple, on a soil that none could have any interest in disputing with them; on rocks which no roads can render accessible; amidst valleys destitute of water; in a rough and sterile climate; its only prospect mountains, calcined by the eternal fires of volcanoes; the mountains of Arabia and Jericho; and an infectious lake, without shore or navigation—the Dead Sea."
The Garden of Gethsemane[328] is, not without reason, shown as the scene of our Saviour's agony, the night before his crucifixion, both from the circumstance of the name it still retains, and its situation in regard to the city. Titus, it is true, cut down all the wood in the neighbourhood of Jerusalem; and were this not the case, no reasonable person would regard it as a remnant of so remote an age, notwithstanding the story of the olive shown in the citadel of Athens, and supposed to bear date from the foundation of the city. But, as a spontaneous produce, uninterruptedly resulting from the original growth of the mountain, it is impossible to view even those with indifference.
In the upper end of the garden is a naked ledge of rocks[329], where Peter, James, and John slept. The exact limits of this, the most interesting and hallowed of all gardens, are not known, nor is it necessary to know them; but as we read that "Christ went forth with his disciples over the brook Cedron, where there was a garden" (John xviii. 1), and that this garden was in the Mount of Olives, "we felt satisfied," says Mr. Robinson, "that we stood on the ground whereon the Saviour had stood before; and that the aged trees, which now afforded us shade, were the lineal descendants of those under which he often reposed; but more particularly on the night of his ascent. The grot, to which he retired on this occasion, and where, "falling down to the ground," in the agony of his soul, and "sweating," as it were, "great drops of blood," he was comforted by an angel (Luke xxii. 43, 44), is still shown, and venerated as such. It is excavated in the live rock, and the descent to it is by a flight of rudely cut steps; the form of the interior is circular, about fifteen feet in diameter, and the roof, which is supported by pilasters, perforated in the middle to admit light: there are some remains of sepulchres in the sides.
The cave of Gethsemane is in the valley of Jehoshaphat:—"It was to this cavern," says La Martine, "at the foot of the Mount of Olives, that Christ retired, according to tradition, to escape sometimes from the persecution of his enemies and the importunities of his disciples; it was here he communed with his own divine reflections, and that he implored his Father, that the bitter cup that he had filled for himself, and which we fill for ourselves, should pass from his lips. It was here that he enjoined his three disciples to watch and pray, the evening before his death, and not to sleep—and that three times he returned and awakened them, so prone is human zeal and charity to slumber. It was here he passed the terrible hours of his agony—the ineffable struggle between life and death—between instinct and will—between the soul that wishes to be free, and matter, which resists because of its blindness. It was here he sweated blood and water, and that, weary of combating with himself, without obtaining that victory of his intellect, which would give peace to his thoughts, he uttered those words, which sum up all human godliness; those words which are become the wisdom of the wise, and which ought to be the epitaph of every life, and the sole aspiration of every created being; 'My father, not my will, but thine, be done!'"
The Valley of Jehoshaphat[330] was a deep and narrow valley, enclosed on the north by barren heights, which contained the sepulchres of kings, shaded on the west by the heavy and gigantic walls of a pre-existing city; covered at the east by the summit of the Mount of Olives, and crossed by a torrent which rolled its bitter and yellow waves over the broken rocks of the valley of Jehoshaphat. At some paces distant, a black and bare rock detaches itself like a promontory from the base of the mountain, and, suspended over Cedron and the valley, bears several old tombs of kings and patriarchs, formed in gigantic and singular architecture, and strikes like the bridge of death over the valley of lamentations.
The fountain of Siloam[331] rises about half way down Mount Sion, and gushes from beneath a little arch, nearly ten feet below the surface, into a small pool about two feet deep; this is quite open, and the rocky sides of the spot are cut smooth. On the south side a flight of steps leads down to it: the water is clear and cold, and flows down the mount into the valley beneath, to a considerable distance. At this stream the women of the city generally come to wash their linen; and its banks are in some parts shaded with trees[332].
The Church of the Holy Sepulchre has the external appearance of a Roman Catholic church. Over the door is a bas-relief, executed in a style of sculpture which at first sight implies an antiquity higher than that of any Christian place of worship; but, upon a nearer view, is recognized the history of the Messiah's entry into Jerusalem. Dr. Clarke is, therefore, disposed to think, that it offers an example of the first work in which Pagan sculptors represented a Christian theme. The interior of this fabric is divided into two parts; and in the anti-chapel is shown the mouth of what is called the sepulchre, the stone whereon the angel sat: this is a block of white marble[333].
The Stone of Unction is covered by a slab of polished marble in the floor of the entrance hall of the Holy Sepulchre. On this the body of Christ was washed, anointed, and prepared for the tomb. (St. John, xix. 39.) It is surrounded by a low rail; and several rich lamps are hung suspended over it. Advancing a few paces to the left, we come into that part of the church, properly denominated the nave. It is an open space in the form of a circle, about thirty-five paces in diameter, and surrounded by sixteen pillars, supporting galleries, and covered in by a dome, not unlike that of the Pantheon at Rome. In the centre of this area, and immediately under the aperture through which the light is admitted, rises a small oblong building of marble, twenty feet in length, by ten in breadth, and about fifteen feet in height, surmounted by a small cupola, standing upon columns; this covers the supposed site of the Saviour's tomb. It is approached by steps leading into an anti-room, or chapel[334].