The recent earthquake had rent the massive walls of these edifices, but not so as to endanger them, and we met with a ready and hospitable reception beneath the roof. The door of entrance is low and strong, and every where in this country is the traveller reminded of the insecurity of life and property; and, unless people would live there with a martyr’s spirit, of the necessity of being constantly prepared for defence.
Having entered the building, we were carried along some winding passages, and found ourselves presently in a church that had once been splendid, but which is now in a dilapidated state, owing partly to the effects of time, and partly to the spoliations of the Turks. It has four rows of columns, ten in each row, and still imposing objects, the effect of which is heightened by gilding and paintings on the wall; but the colors are dim, and the pavement is torn up, and the place has a melancholy grandeur that chills and oppresses the feelings.
They took us from this, after a short period for resting, into some side passages, and we soon found ourselves descending into the Cave of the Nativity. It is reached at one end by a tortuous underground passage, but on the other by a flight of steps that brings us at once to the spot. We were introduced by the former of these, and after winding along for a distance of about fifty feet, we turned short to the left, and a flood of light bursting suddenly upon us, we knew that we were in the Chapel or Cave of the Nativity. The main body of this subterranean apartment is about thirty-five feet long by twelve in width, with a height of ten or twelve feet, but it is irregular in shape. On either side, as we advanced, were benches or seats for those who may choose to come here for meditation. Having proceeded about twenty feet, we came to a small apartment on our right, about ten feet square, the floor of which is lower by eighteen inches than the remainder of the cave; it is open in front, where are two pillars to support the roof. On the three remaining sides are shallow recesses; one of which, they inform us, is the manger in which the infant Messiah was laid; in the recess opposite the Magi sat, and in the third they deposited the gifts of “gold, frankincense, and myrrh.” The rock over this apartment is bare, and visitors are allowed to break off small fragments; the other portions of the cave are all lined with precious marbles.
Just beyond this spot the cave branches to the right and left, a broad flight of steps, on either hand, leading, at the distance of about twenty feet, to the surface of the ground; at the angle formed by this branching is another recess, about three feet deep and six in length. It is occupied by an altar, over which is a handsome painting of the Adoration; the altar is in form of a table, and beneath it, at the centre of a star formed of marble mosaic work, is a silver plate inscribed,
HIC DE VIRGINE MARIA JESUS CHRISTUS NATUS EST.
Here Jesus Christ was born of the Virgin Mary.
I suppose there can be no reasonable doubt that this is actually the cave of the Nativity. Hadrian, in derision of the Christians, placed here a statue of Adonis, and Helena, not long after, erected the church, the remains of which we have just been examining. Jerome speaks of the place as undisputed in his day; and as he resided here a while, we must suppose him well acquainted with the subject. A subterranean chamber, on the right of the winding passage by which we had reached this cave, is still pointed out as his study; they show, adjoining to it, also, the place where the bodies of the Innocents were cast, the sepulchre of St. Jerome, that of Eusebius, and that also of St. Paula and her daughter Eustoquio, persons distinguished in the Romish calendar. Over the small chamber in which the manger is situated, they show also what they call a picture of St. Jerome, stained miraculously in the natural rock.
It is sad, when we enter a place of such powerful interest, to be met at the very threshold with things that we cannot believe; and instead of being left to indulge in salutary reflections, to be compelled to commence separating truth from error, and fixing their boundaries, or else to feel the repulsive and chilling effect of scepticism settling upon the whole. The great error of the Romish and Greek churches here has been in endeavoring to fix upon a locality for every event noticed in Scripture; and even the parables of our Saviour have not been suffered to escape from this spirit of blind and injudicious zeal. They point out upon the Mount of Olives spots as those where the Saviour taught the Lord’s Prayer, where the Apostles composed the creed, where Christ wept over Jerusalem, where he preached the Judgment, &c.; and on Mount Zion, where the last supper was held, where Peter retired to weep, where Isaiah was sawn in two, and a great variety of other places with which it is not necessary to fatigue the reader.
And as if this were not enough, they have got up traditions of the wildest and most startling nature, and the whole country is full of the localities with which these are connected. On the way out to Bethlehem are two which I have not yet noticed, and at which I will now barely glance. One is a place where formerly stood a turpentine tree. As the Virgin was going to Jerusalem with the infant for the Presentation in the Temple, this tree bowed and did reverence as they passed; and to make its show of respect more lasting, did not return to its former position, but remained thus inclined. It was worthy of observation, too, that ever after, though the air might be sultry and stifling in all the region about it, yet under this tree was always a refreshing breeze. Indulgences were granted to those who recited prayers beneath it; wood was cut from it by night (through fear of the Turks), and carried, in the form of crosses, all over Europe. The Arabs, at length, in a fit of ill humor, cut it down.
As we descend the hill toward Bethlehem is another spot made sacred by their traditions. The Virgin passing by this place, saw a man sowing or planting beans, and asking him what he was employed at, received for answer that he was sowing pebbles; on which, the beans in his basket turned to pebbles, nor has any care since that availed to make the field produce any thing else than stones.