Jerusalem, the City of Herod and Saladin

by Walter Besant; Edward Henry Palmer

“The next object of his attention was a space of ground of great extent, and open to the pure air of heaven. This he adorned with a pavement of finely polished stone, and enclosed it on three sides with porticoes of great length. At the side opposite to the sepulchres, which was the eastern side, the church itself was erected; a noble work, rising to a vast height, and of great extent, both in length and breadth. The interior of this structure was floored with marble slabs of various colours; while the external surface of the walls, which shone with polished stone exactly fitted together, exhibited a degree of splendour in no respect inferior to that of marble. With regard to the roof, it was covered on the outside with lead, as a protection against the rains of winter. But the inner part of the roof, which was finished with sculptured fretwork, extended in a series of connected compartments, like a vast sea, over the whole church; and, being overlaid throughout with the purest gold, caused the entire building to glitter, as it were, with rays of light. Besides this were two porticoes on each side, with upper and lower ranges of pillars, corresponding in length with the church itself; and these had, also, their roofs ornamented with gold. Of these porticoes, those which were exterior to the church were supported by columns of great size, while those within these rested on piles of stone beautifully adorned on the surface. Three gates placed exactly east, were intended to receive those who entered the church.

“Opposite these gates the crowning part of the whole was the hemisphere, which rose to the very summit of the church. This was encircled by twelve columns (according to the number of the apostles of our Saviour), having their capitals embellished with silver bowls of great size, which the emperor himself presented as a splendid offering to his god.

“In the next place, he enclosed the atrium, which occupied the space leading to the entrance in front of the church. This comprehended, first, the court, then the porticoes on each side, and lastly the gates of the court. After these, in the midst of the open market-place, the entrance gates of the whole work, which were of exquisite workmanship, afforded to passers-by on the outside a view of the interior, which could not fail to excite astonishment.”

According, therefore, to the account of Eusebius, Constantine built one church, and only one. This was not over the sepulchre at all, but to the east of it, and separated from it by a space open to the heavens, the sepulchre itself being set about with pillars.

In the transport of enthusiasm which followed the conversion of Constantine, the Jews probably found it convenient to keep as quiet as possible. They held at this time exclusive possession of four large towns in Galilee where they governed themselves, or rather submitted to the government of the Rabbis. Attempts were made to convert them. Sylvester succeeded, it is related, in converting a number of them by a miracle. For a conference was held between the Christians and Jews in the presence of the Emperor himself. One of the Rabbis asked permission that an ox should be brought in. He whispered in the ear of the animal the ineffable name of God, and the beast fell dead. “Will you believe,” asked the Pope, “if I raise him to life again?” They agreed. Sylvester adjured the ox, in the name of Christ, and if Jesus was veritably the Messiah, to come to life again. The beast rose and quietly went on feeding. Whereupon the Jews all went out and were baptized.

Stories of this kind were invented whenever it seemed well to stimulate zeal or to promote conversions. The Jews were probably only saved from a cruel persecution by the death of the zealous convert. Already severe decrees had been issued. Constantine’s laws enact that any Jew who endangers the life of a Christian convert shall be buried alive; that no Christian shall be permitted to become a Jew; that no Jew shall possess Christian slaves. But the laws were little lightened in their favour by the successor of Constantine, and the Jews made one or two local and feeble attempts to rise in Judæa and in Alexandria. Here they had an opportunity of plundering and slaying the Christians by joining the side of Arius.

And then there came a joyful day, too short, indeed, for the Jews, when Julian the Apostate mounted the throne. Julian addressed a letter to the Patriarch, annulling the aggressive laws, and promising great things for them on his return from the East. At the same time he issued his celebrated edict ordering the rebuilding of the Temple of Jerusalem; the care of the work being intrusted to his favourite, Alypius. And now, it seemed, the restoration of the Jews was to be accomplished in an unexpected manner, not foretold by prophecy. The wealth of the people was showered upon the projected work; Jews of all ages and both sexes streamed along the roads which led to Jerusalem; and, amid hopes more eager than any the hapless people had yet experienced, the work was begun. Hardly were the foundations uncovered, the joyful Jews crowding round the workmen, when flames of fire burst forth from underground accompanied by loud explosions. The workmen fled in wild affright, and the labours were at once suspended. Nor were they ever renewed. The anger of heaven was manifested in the mysterious flames: not yet was to be the rebuilding of the Temple. And then Julian died, cut off in early manhood, and whatever hopes remained among the Jews were crushed by this untimely event.

As for the miracle of the flames, it has been accounted for by supposing the foul gas in the subterranean passages to have caught fire. Perhaps, it has been maliciously suggested, the flames were designed by the Christians themselves, eager to prevent the rebuilding of the Temple. In any case there seems no reason to doubt the fact.

And now for three hundred years the history of Jerusalem is purely ecclesiastical. The disputes of the Christians, the quarrels among the bishops over the supremacy of their sees, the bitter animosities engendered by Arius, Pelagius, and other heretics, and leaders of heterodox thought, made Palestine a battlefield of angry words, which the disputants would gladly have turned into a battlefield of swords. The history of their controversies does not belong to us, and may be read in the pages of Dean Milman and the Rev. George Williams.

The Samaritans gave a good deal of trouble in the time of Justinian by revolting and slaughtering the Christians in their quarter. They were, however, quieted in the usual way, “by punishment,” and peace reigned over all the country. Justinian built a magnificent church, of which the Mosque El Aksa perhaps preserves some of the walls, at least. It was so magnificent that in the delight of his heart, the Emperor exclaimed, “I have surpassed thee, O Solomon!” All Syria became a nest of monasteries, nunneries, and hermitages. In the north Simeon Stylites and his followers perched themselves on pillars, and soothed their sufferings with the adorations of those who came to look at them. In Palestine were hundreds of monasteries, while in every cave was a hermit, on every mountain-side the desolate dwelling of some recluse, and the air was heavy with the groans of those who tortured the flesh in order to save the soul. Moreover, the country was a great storehouse of relics. To manufacture them, or rather to find them, was a labour of love and of profit for the people. It was not difficult, because bones of saints were known always to emit a sweet and spice-like odour. They were thus readily distinguished. No doubt the aid of history was resorted to in order to determine whose bones they were. Nor was it at all a matter to disturb the faith of the holder if another man possessed the same relic of the same saint. Meantime, the wood of the Cross was discovered to have a marvellous property. It multiplied itself. If you cut a piece off to sell to a distinguished pilgrim, or to send to a powerful prince for a consideration, this invaluable relic, by a certain inherent vis viva, repaired itself and became whole again, as it had been before. So that, if the owners had chosen, a piece might have been cut off for every man in the world, and yet the wood have been no smaller. But the holders of the Cross were not so minded. So the time went on, and pleasant days, with leisure for theological quarrelling, were enjoyed in the Holy Land. The litanies of the Church were heard and said night and day, and no part of the country but resounded with the psalms and hymns of Christ, the intervals of the services being occupied by the monks in the finding and sale of relics, and in bitter dissensions between those who held views contrary to themselves. It was a land given over to monks, with a corrupt and narrow-minded Church, daily growing more corrupt and more narrow; and, when its fall took place, the cup of its corruptions appears to have been full. King Chosroes, the Persian conqueror, advanced into Syria, and the Jews, eager for some revenge for all their miseries, gladly joined his victorious arms. With him would be, without doubt, many of their own countrymen, the brethren of the Captivity, and the Mesopotamian Jews. Those in Tyre sent messengers to their countrymen in Damascus and other places, urging them to rise and massacre the Christians. The messengers were intercepted. The Christians in Tyre put the leading Jews in prison and barred the gates. Then the insurgents appeared outside and began to burn and waste the suburbs. For every Christian church burned, the Christians beheaded a hundred prisoners, and threw their heads over the wall. The Jews burned twenty churches, and two thousand heads were thrown over.[^[26]] Then came the news that Chosroes was marching on Jerusalem, and all the Jews flocked with eager anticipations to follow him. The city, feebly defended, if at all, by its priestly inhabitants, was taken at once: ninety thousand Christians are reported as having been slaughtered; it matters little now whether the number is correct or not—so large a number means nothing more definite than the indication of a great massacre—the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, i.e., what Eusebius calls, speaking of it as a whole, the Temple, the Basilica with its porticoes and pillars, and the decorations of the Sepulchre, were all destroyed: the churches built by Helena on the Mount of Olives shared the same fate: the sacred vessels were carried off by the conquerors: the wood of the true Cross was part of the booty, and the Patriarch Zacharias was made prisoner, and carried away with it. But the wife of Chosroes was a Christian. By her intercession, Zacharias was well treated and the wood of the Cross preserved. And immediately after the retreat of the Persians, one Modestus, aided by gifts from John Eleemon of Alexandria, began to repair and rebuild, as best he might, the ruined churches. Fifteen years later Heraclius reconquered the provinces of Syria and Egypt, regained the wood of the Cross, and in great triumph, though clad in mean and humble dress, and as a pilgrim, entered Jerusalem (Sept. 14, A.D. 629) bearing the wood upon his shoulder. The restoration of the Cross was accompanied also by revenge taken upon the Jews. Henceforth in the annals of Christendom every revival of religious zeal is to be marked by the murdering and massacring of Jews.