The first place we were conducted to was a large grotto, a little without the Damascus gate, said to have been some time the residence of Jeremiah. On the left side of it is shown the prophet's bed, being a shelf on the rock, about eight feet from the ground; and not far from this is the place where they say he wrote his Lamentations. This place is at present a college of dervises, and is held in great veneration by the Turks and Jews, as well as Christians.
The next place we came to was those famous grottoes called the Sepulchres of the Kings, but for what reason they go by that name is hard to resolve; for it is certain none of the kings, either of Israel or Judah, were buried there, the Holy Scriptures assigning other places for their sepulchres, unless it may be thought, perhaps, that Hezekiah was here interred, and that these were the sepulchres of the sons of David, mentioned in 2 Chron. xxx. 33. Whoever was buried here, this is certain, that the place itself discovers so great an expense, both of labour and treasure, that we may well suppose it to have been the work of kings. You approach to it at the east side, through an entrance cut out of the natural rock, which admits you into an open court of about forty paces square, cut down into the rock with which it is encompassed instead of walls. On the south side of the court is a portico nine paces long and four broad, hewn likewise out of the natural rock. This has a kind of architrave running along its front, adorned with sculpture of fruits and flowers, still discernible, but by time much defaced. At the end of the portico on the left hand you descend to the passage into the sepulchres. The door is now so obstructed with stones and rubbish, that it is a thing of some difficulty to creep through it. But within, you arrive in a large fair room, about seven or eight yards square, cut out of the natural rock. Its sides and ceiling are so exactly square, and its angles so just, that no architect with levels and plummets could build a room more regular; and the whole is so firm and entire, that it may be called a chamber hollowed out of one piece of marble. From this room you pass into (I think) six more, one within another, all of the same fabric with the first. Of these the two innermost are deeper than the rest, having a second descent of about six or seven steps into them.
In every one of these rooms, except the first, were coffins of stone placed in niches in the sides of the chambers. They had been at first covered with handsome lids, and carved with garlands, but now most of them were broke to pieces by sacrilegious hands. The sides and ceiling of the room were always dropping with the moist damps condensing upon them; to remedy which nuisance, and to preserve these chambers of the dead dry and clean, there was in each room a small channel cut in the floor, which served to drain the drops that fall constantly into it.
But the most surprising thing belonging to these subterraneous chambers was their doors, of which there is only one that remains hanging, being left, as it were, on purpose to puzzle the beholders. It consisted of a plank of stone of about six inches in thickness, and in its other dimensions equalling the size of an ordinary door, or somewhat less. It was carved in such a manner as to resemble a piece of wainscot. The stone of which it was made was visibly of the same kind with the whole rock, and it turned upon two hinges in the nature of axles. These hinges were of the same entire piece of stone with the door, and were contained in two holes of the immoveable rock, one at the top, the other at the bottom.
From this description it is obvious to start a question,—how such doors as these were made, whether they were cut out of the rock in the same place and manner as they now hang, or whether they were brought and fixed in their station like other doors? One of these must be supposed to have been done; and which soever part we choose as most probable, it seems at first glance to be not without its difficulty. But thus much I have to say, for the resolving of this riddle (which is wont to create no small dispute amongst pilgrims), viz., that the door which was left hanging did not touch its lintel by at least two inches, so that I believe it might easily have been lifted up and unhinged; and the doors which had been thrown down had their hinges at the upper end twice as long as those at the bottom, which seems to intimate pretty plainly by what method this work was accomplished.
From these sepulchres we returned toward the city again, and, just by Herod's gate, were shown a grotto full of filthy water and mire. This passes for the dungeon in which Jeremiah was kept by Zedekiah, till enlarged by the charity of Ebed Melech[574]. At this place we concluded our visits for that evening.
March 29.—The next day being Easter-Monday, the mosolem, or governor of the city, set out, according to custom, with several bands of soldiers to convey the pilgrims to Jordan. Without this guard there is no going thither, by reason of the multitude and insolence of the Arabs in these parts. The fee to the mosolem for his company and soldiers upon this occasion is twelve dollars for each Frank pilgrim, but if they be ecclesiastics, six, which you must pay whether you are disposed to go the journey or stay in the city. We went out at St. Stephen's gate, being in all, of every nation and sex, about two thousand pilgrims. Having crossed the Valley of Jehoshaphat, and part of Mount Olivet, we came in half an hour to Bethany, at present only a small village. At the first entrance into it is an old ruin which they call Lazarus's Castle, supposed to have been the mansion-house of that favourite of our Lord. At the bottom of a small descent, not far from the castle, is shown the sepulchre out of which he was raised to a second mortality, by that enlivening voice of Christ, "Lazarus, come forth." You descend into the sepulchre by twenty-five steep stairs, at the bottom of which you arrive first in a small square room, and from thence you creep down into another lesser room, about a yard and a half deeper, in which the body is said to have been laid. This place is held in great veneration by the Turks, who use it for an oratory, and demand of all Christians a small caphar for their admission into it.
About a bow-shot from thence, you pass by the place which they say was Mary Magdalen's habitation, and then, descending a steep hill, you come to the fountain of the Apostles; so called because, as the tradition goes, those holy persons were wont to refresh themselves here in their frequent travels between Jerusalem and Jericho. And indeed it is a thing very probable, and no more than I believe is done by all that travel this way, the fountain being close by the road-side, and very inviting to the thirsty passenger.
From this place you proceed in an intricate way amongst hills and valleys interchangeably, all of a very barren aspect at present, but discovering evident signs of the labour of the husbandman in ancient times. After some hours' travel in this sort of road, you arrive at the mountainous desert into which our blessed Saviour was led by the Spirit to be tempted by the devil. A most miserable, dry, barren place it is, 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 outwards. On the left hand, looking down in a deep valley as we passed along, we saw some ruins of small cells and cottages, which they told us were formerly the habitations of hermits retiring thither for penance and mortification; and certainly there could not be found in the whole earth a more comfortless and abandoned place for that purpose. From the top of these hills of desolation, we had, however, a delightful prospect of the mountains of Arabia, the Dead Sea, and the Plain of Jericho, into which last place we descended, after about five hours' march from Jerusalem. As soon as we entered the plain, we turned up on the left hand, and going about one hour that way, came to the foot of the Quarantania, which they say is the mountain into which the devil took our blessed Saviour, when he tempted him with that visionary scene of all the kingdoms and glories of the world. 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 up, founded upon a prominent part of the rock. Near this latter are several caves and holes in the side of the mountain, made use of anciently by hermits, and by some at this day, for places to keep their Lent in, in imitation of that of our blessed Saviour. In most of these grottoes we found certain Arabs quartered, with fire-arms, who obstructed our ascent, demanding two hundred dollars for leave to go up the mountain. So we departed without farther trouble, not a little glad to have so good an excuse for not climbing so dangerous a precipice.
Turning down from thence into the plain, we passed by a ruined aqueduct, and a convent in the same condition, and in about a mile's riding came to the fountain of Elisha, so called because miraculously purged from its brackishness by the prophet, at the request of the men of Jericho[575]. 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 great plenty, divide themselves into several small streams, dispersing their refreshment to all the field between this and Jericho, and rendering it exceedingly fruitful. Close by the fountain grows a large tree spreading into boughs over the water, and here, in the shade, we took a collation with the father guardian, and about thirty or forty friars more, who went this journey with us.