Impatient, and with feelings almost in a nervous state, we soon found ourselves out, and winding along the narrow lane that leads from Mr. Nicholayson’s to the slope by which we descend from Mount Zion to the lower city. Standing on the edge of this, we looked down on the ruins of a great edifice erected for the knights of St. John at the time of the Crusades. It is a very large building, I should think near six hundred feet in length by two hundred in width; but the lower story or basement is all that now remains. This forms a suite of vaults, which are now occupied as stores for grain and merchandize; a street of shops forming a kind of bazaar passes along the western side of it, and on the south is the principal bazaar of the city, the exterior range of vaults answering very well for stores. The place where we were then standing was about the spot where I suppose the gate Gennath to have been.
Descending from this eminence, we entered a street which passes along the northern side of this ruin, and is lined with fruit shops and houses, sometimes one, sometimes two stories in height, of stone, the windows small and the exterior very plain. This street is about one thousand feet in length. At its further extremity on our right was an edifice distinguished by its size and massiveness, but presenting on the exterior only a bare wall pierced with a few narrow windows. This was “The Church of the Holy Sepulchre.” It forms altogether a block of masonry about one hundred and sixty feet by one hundred in width, in which are included the chapel of the Crucifixion, the church of the Sepulchre, some small chapels, and a monastery, the cloisters of the monks occupying the portions of the building next the street. Just before coming to this building, we entered a low door in a stone wall, and then, having descended along a narrow alley, we turned presently to the left, and had before us the court and grand entrance to the church. On our left was the church tower, but without bells, as, with the single exception of Mount Lebanon, bells are not allowed to Christian churches in Turkey. The height of this tower has also been reduced, from a similar feeling of jealousy on the part of their Turkish masters. Three sides of the court were formed by a mass of buildings of irregular shape, while the fourth, or that looking towards the west, was open; in the central part was an arched portal ornamented with columns of verd-antique, and sculptures of the Norman style of architecture; it was open at the time of our visit, and I believe is so daily for an hour or two in the morning. After this it is closed, the key is returned to the Turkish governor; and admittance during the rest of the day, if desired, must be purchased from him. The monks, therefore, are prisoners in their monastery, except during this short interval, and intercourse with them must be held through a square hole in this door, where also provisions and other necessaries are taken in. We visited the place once in the afternoon, and were allowed to enter after waiting nearly an hour, and at the cost of a dollar or two.
Passing through this door, the visiter finds himself in a hall or vestibule, about forty feet long by twenty in width; and in front of him, on the floor, a slab of reddish marble, with huge candlesticks and candles at either end; they call it the stone of unction, and say that on it our Saviour’s body was anointed previous to interment. And here commences a series of legends and fictions, dealt out unsparingly to the visitor, which often produce disgust, and always jar on the feelings of the pilgrim whose mind is not steeped in the grossest credulity. I could fill a book with them, but have no relish for such a task; and during this visit gave but little attention to them, as I wished to keep my feelings free from the effect of such puerilities; and I shall at present trouble the reader with them only so far as to give him an idea of this blot on Christianity at Jerusalem. By doing more, we should only stir up emotions that cannot harmonize with the place, and which will prevent us from feeling the influence of that which is real and true.
Turning now to the left we came, at the distance of about twenty feet, to a large door-way which admitted us into a circular church, quite lofty, and about fifty feet in diameter.[51]
The lower part of this is lined with a range of pilasters, between which are arched openings into a dozen chapels, some used by the Copts, Greeks, and Armenians, and some occupied by altars connected with the legends which have just been noticed. Above these runs a corridor, and the whole is surmounted by the large dome which had drawn my attention when on the top of our monastery. In the centre of the area of this church is a structure of masonry, about eight feet wide, eight or nine in height, and about twelve in length; at one end is a marble platform, raised about twelve inches from the floor, with steps quite around, and bordered part of the length with a low marble wall or parapet on either side; the other end of this structure, instead of being square, has three faces, in which are very small chapels for the Copts, Abyssinians, &c. The structure itself is faced with the richest marbles, in compartments, and enriched with mouldings, and has on the summit a little tower like a lantern, used, I believe, as a vent for the smoke from some lamps within the tomb. Yes, this, they tell us, is the tomb of our Saviour, hewn originally in the solid rock; but that the exterior rock has been cut down so as to form a kind of shell, in the shape of a chapel, with its exterior surface enriched in this manner with marble. If this be so, they have sadly disguised the place, for, being lined with marble also in the interior, it has now not the least resemblance to what the Scripture account of it would lead us to expect. The entrance is at the end towards the east. We ascended the marble platform, and entering by a low door found ourselves in a chamber about six feet wide and five in depth, in the centre of which is an upright column irregularly shaped, about two feet in height. They say it is the stone on which the angel sat when he announced the resurrection to Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome. At the further end of this room, at the corner on the left, is a low door; and there, stooping down, we entered another chamber about six feet square. One half of this latter apartment was occupied by a marble sarcophagus; and in this, they say, was deposited the body of our crucified Saviour.
For a while we were unwilling, and I believe should have been unable, to enter into the inquiry whether this was really so;—so strong an emotion was created by the annunciation that we were in our Lord’s sepulchre, and that before us was the coffin where his body had lain, and from which he rose triumphant, leading captivity captive. We stood for a long time silent, gazing on the marble; and I believe it would have taken little to have caused us to shed tears. The place was lighted only by lamps suspended from the ceiling over the coffin; no sounds were heard, except occasionally of our deep breathing, as our emotions became almost too strong to be restrained. And our feelings, I believe, were of a salutary nature.
There was then in our company, one of whom I am allowed here to speak, but whom the shrinking modesty which she always evinced while living, and which should still be regarded, will allow me barely to notice. She was dear to us all; and although, with such solemn scenes as these around us, it becomes me to speak with humility of worldly accomplishments, I may say she possessed them in an unusual degree, and that she was admired and beloved at home and abroad by every one that knew her. She is now no longer in this world. In the grave, earthly accomplishments, and even earthly love, avail us nothing; but religion does avail; and the religion of the cross of Christ, so full of hope and glory, she was led to adopt by this visit to Calvary and to the sepulchre of Christ. She had been educated by pious friends, and had respected and esteemed the ordinances of the gospel; but this visit, and the scenes here brought before her mind, made her realize as she had not done before, how great was the price paid for her salvation, and how strong are our obligations to give ourselves unhesitatingly to Him who hesitated not to give himself for us. Selecting a proper time, when the act would be free from ostentation, she took out her Bible, which she had brought to the city, and placing it on the coffin, wrote, as was long after discovered, her name and the date of our visit, with the quotation, “Let every thing that hath breath praise the Lord.” Not long after her return to the ship she made a meek yet decided avowal of this Saviour as her only hope and trust; and all who knew her witnessed a corresponding exhibition of Christian character. For the change which brought the humble and gentle virtues into striking relief, while hope rose higher and became full of immortality, she always referred to this visit as the immediate cause. She was, at that time, apparently in excellent health; but youth and health are no guarantee for us in this our earthly home. When our ship, eighteen months afterwards, approached our own shore, it bore her a feeble and exhausted invalid; and when land at length rose to our sight, we scarcely heeded it; for she, our companion so long, and so beloved by us, was now a corpse. She had expired suddenly only the evening previous. By her mourning parents in that hour of anguish, I heard this visit spoken of, and they found in its consequences a source of consolation, such as the whole earth could not have afforded them; to her, had she possessed worlds, what would they have been in comparison with her religion?
When we spoke, at length, as we stood by the coffin in this sepulchre, it was involuntarily in low tones, and in brief sentences; and it was a relief to get out where the feelings were less oppressive. I speak of the sensations of others as well as of my own; for I have since frequently heard them speak of this visit and of its effects on their feelings.
Our feelings however, in this case, led captive by the scene around us, by the silent chamber lighted by a few lamps, the marble coffin, and the tradition that this was our Lord’s sepulchre, acted without the concurrence of our judgment; or rather, they suspended for a while the power of judging or the disposition to inquire. Yet, although for reasons already given, I have little doubt that this was the spot of our Saviour’s interment, the assertion that this is the sepulchre itself, wants confirmation; and the marble coffin or sarcophagus, I cannot regard as any thing more than a mere representation of the grave, or the place where the body was deposited; and for this it is by no means happily chosen. This may be the sepulchre, cut on the outside into the form of a little chapel; but as nothing but marble is seen both within and on the outside, the native rock, if it exists, being no where allowed to appear, we have no means of satisfying ourselves that it is so; and the circumstances are altogether suspicious, particularly when taken in connexion with the many other assertions with regard to sacred places in Jerusalem which are manifestly beyond belief. The coffin is of white marble, slightly marked by a few veins of a light blue color; it is rectangular, six feet long within, about three feet broad, and two feet two inches in depth; being in all respects exactly like the ancient sarcophagi found all over Greece and in Asia; the cover remains, and the whole exterior has a slight degree of roughness, as if it might once have been exposed to the weather. This is entirely at variance with the ancient tombs still to be seen in great numbers about Jerusalem, and particularly in the district lying north from the present city. They are composed sometimes of a single chamber, sometimes of a succession of chambers, cut in the solid rock, with a rectangular cavity large enough for a body, in the floor, at the side of the chamber; in the larger chambers, there are more than one cavity, and in a few cases, instead of being cut in the floor, they form a box against the side, but cut also out of the solid rock. In no case that I have heard of, has a marble sarcophagus been found within them, none would be needed; and even in the tombs of the kings of some magnificence, northward from the city, the native rock has been exclusively employed. The evidence is altogether against this marble sarcophagus, and I cannot yield it my belief.