In further illustration of the Dean’s ingenuity when turning Scripture to account in the improvement of events, I may here repeat what he once related to me. He happened on a Saturday to be preparing a sermon for the Abbey, on some occasion when he was to plead for two objects, and had chosen for his text Gen. xxvii. 38—“And Esau said unto his father, hast thou but one blessing my father? Bless me, even me also, O my father.” As the Dean was writing his discourse, some one stepped in and told him, the American President, General Grant, intended to be at the Abbey the next day, and suggested that it would be gratifying to Americans if some allusion was made to the incident. Immediately it was turned to account by the Dean in this way—that God had many blessings which He distributed amongst his children; that bounty to one did not mean denial to another; that Great Britain, for instance, had been blessed, but God had rich benefactions for America as well.
For years I felt an earnest desire to visit the East, and thus to become personally acquainted with Bible lands. A meeting was held in 1865 to present me with a purse of £400, and a pledge that expenses incurred through my absence from Kensington should be met, without any pecuniary responsibilities on my part. The friends who accompanied me were Dr. Allon, of Union Chapel, Islington, Dr. Spence, of the Poultry Chapel, London, Dr. Bright, minister of the Independent Chapel, Dorking, and two young lay friends—Stanley Kemp-Welch and Thomas Wilson. The Dean of Westminster gave me introductions to people he knew in Palestine, and afforded valuable assistance in other ways.
We started in February 1865. I kept a journal and sent home long letters. We visited Alexandria and Cairo, and then proceeded through the desert of Sinai to the monastery at the foot of Jebel Mousa. Turning north, we made our way to Gaza, thence to Ramleh, and so onwards to Jerusalem. The members of our little party, as we approached the city on horseback, rode at a considerable distance from each other. I knew that we should cross some ridges, before we caught sight of the city, and I happened to be in the rear of my fellow-travellers. I watched the foremost of them till I saw him pull up his horse, pause awhile, then take off his hat. I knew what that meant, and the feelings awakened I can never forget while I live. I eagerly, and I may say reverently, followed the foremost horseman, and as soon as I caught sight of the walls and the gate, I am not ashamed to say, my eyes were full of tears.
As we entered the Holy City the bustle was very great. Bedouins with yellow scarves round their heads, and striped robes on their shoulders; Syrians with snowy turbans, short jackets, and flowing trousers; Turks wearing the crimson fez; a rich man “clothed in purple and fine linen,” mounted on a smartly caparisoned white ass, and a poor man on foot, ragged and tattered; camels and donkeys carrying loads of timber and brushwood, to the peril of wayfarers; Egyptian, Copt, Armenian, Greek, the black Nubian, the white Circassian, with groups of veiled women, shuffling over the stones in gay slippers—all these made a motley picture, which dazzled the attention of pilgrims from England. At length we reached our hotel, and had to make ladder-like ascents, and mount on roofs, story after story, before we could get to our apartments, whence we caught our first view of Mount Olivet.
We met with Christian friends in the Holy City, and were kindly invited by Dr. Gobat, Bishop of Jerusalem, to spend an evening at his house, when he gathered together a party consisting of the principal foreign visitors at the time, most of whom were English. For two Sunday mornings we worshipped at the church on Mount Zion, near the Episcopal residence, and were glad of an opportunity to partake of the Communion. I have always delighted in fellowship at the Lord’s table with Christian brethren of different churches, who, under different forms of administration, worship and adore the same Lord. Not only when travelling on the Continent have I received the Lord’s Supper at the hands of Episcopalian brethren, but in England, on a few occasions I have availed myself of a similar catholic privilege.
Before proceeding further, let me relate a story I heard from Dr. Rosen, the German consul, respecting the famous Sinaitic MS. Tischendorf had reason to believe a precious treasure was hid in the monastery at Sinai. He obtained letters which he thought would assist him, but, on further consideration, declined to employ them. He found in the library part of his coveted prize; and, it happened at that moment, the office of Okonomos was vacant, and a keen contest for it was going on between two monks. He joined one party, and promised to use influence with the Russian Emperor in favour of their candidate, hinting that the present of a valuable MS. would promote their object. After a good deal of diplomacy this plan prospered. The MS. coveted by the scholar was secured, and the once hopeless candidate was installed in office. This was not all. The MS. was incomplete, and the missing part was found by Tischendorf in the possession of a Greek merchant. The promise of a Russian title proved more effectual than gold, and Tischendorf carried off his prize to St. Petersburg in triumph. I jotted down the story the evening Dr. Rosen related it, and here in a few words have I given the substance.
Of course we explored Jerusalem as far as our limited time allowed; and, under the guidance of Dr. Rosen, I had the privilege of visiting certain spots where recent discoveries had been made. I remember seeing what looked like indications of a well, from which, it was easy to imagine, people, in our Lord’s time, used to draw water. Nor can I forget rambles on the line of walls commanding views of the city and neighbourhood. I can now distinctly recall my visit to a sepulchre outside the city, where a stone, like a large millstone, was lying at the door, as if recently “rolled away.” I studied (as well as time, and what I had read on the subject, would allow), the question as to the place of crucifixion, and where our blessed Lord rose from the dead. Points still remain to be settled, as to the direction in which the city wall ran in the time of Christ. I cannot adopt any modern theories on the whole subject, which have made way in America and in England. It appears to me after long study, that grounds can still be maintained in support of the old tradition in favour of the spot where the Church of the Holy Sepulchre stands. We made a memorable excursion to Bethlehem, by way of Rachel’s sepulchre, and descended the cave where, it is said, our Lord was born. We next proceeded to Hebron, where I stood by a flight of steps leading to the tombs within, longing to ascend and explore those hallowed resting places. Returning northwards, we stopped at the traditional oak, by which Abraham sat in the heat of the day—and at the vineyards of Eschol where old stocks are thriving still—and at Solomon’s pool and gardens, not far from David’s hiding-places. Then, after a long and exciting day, we found rest in the old monastery of S. Saba, from the terrace of which, we caught a view of the Dead Sea. We rambled on its melancholy shores, dipped in the Jordan, and then spent a night by the ruins of Jericho.
The order of our journey followed Dr. Stanley’s directions, that we might have the advantage of crossing Olivet, so as to come suddenly on the point where our Lord “beheld the city and wept over it.” From Jerusalem we proceeded northwards by Bethel, Sychar, Samaria, Esdraelon, and Nazareth, to Tiberias and the Lake. Thence by Safed we travelled over the hills of Galilee to Banias (“the Syrian Tivoli”), Damascus, and Beyrout. Banias is a charming spot. With the scenery from a hill overlooking Damascus I was charmed beyond measure, and was intensely interested in the antiquities of that grand old city. Dr. Allon, Dr. Bright and Mr. Wilson visited the ruins at Baalbec, but Mr. Kemp-Welch remained with me in Damascus to take care of Dr. Spence, who was very ill. He had to be leisurely taken over the mountains to Beyrout, approaching which we had never-to-be-forgotten views of the beautiful Mediterranean.
After leaving Palestine I wrote in my notes the following impression as to the Bible, which had been a constant companion and guide in our travels:—It is the Book of the Holy Land—the gospel of Palestine. It is Oriental; it is Syrian; it is Samaritan; it is Galilean; it is Jewish. It paints the scenery of the Land of Promise from end to end, and the wilderness too. It echoes the voices of the people. We hear in it the murmur of towns and villages, we pass through; it breathes the pure, fresh, bracing air of the desert; everywhere as I opened the Divine pages I found them reflecting surrounding scenes. Even the brilliant Frenchman, who has tasked his genius to demolish the authentic life of Jesus and to build out of the ruins an imagination of his own, virtually admits the truth of what I have now advanced, for he points out the minute accuracy of the Volume; which shows how true in detail are the Gospels, how faithful to rock and stream, river and lake, tree and wild flower, is the entire narrative. Thus, after all he says to the contrary, he really raises in the reader’s mind a fair presumption of its fidelity in higher matters.
One circumstance struck me as very noticeable—that is, the compression, within a small compass, of a number of stirring incidents related in Holy Writ. Dothan, where Joseph sought his brethren and their flocks; the plain of Megiddo, the battle-field of Israel; the river Kishon, “that ancient river,” so fatal to Sisera’s army; the valley of Jezreel, with its wide panorama, where Ahab had a palace; the heights of Gilboa, where fell Saul and his sons, with the well of Harod at the foot, where Gideon’s three hundred men stooped and lapped the water; the garden of the Shunamite, opposite to Mount Carmel; the city of Nain and the cave of Endor; Tabor and Nazareth—all these spots come within a few hours’ ride. Well might Issachar think “that rest was good, and the land that it was pleasant.”