I sat down and looked once more upon the city. I thought of the Jews’ Wailing Place, now almost opposite, and then of that other wailing place by the river of Babylon, where they hanged their harps upon the willows and wept when they remembered Sion. And as I sat in silence an historical mental retrospect arose unbidden—profound and solemn, but tinged with a beauty, somewhat sad, yet indescribably pensive and pleasing.
We were to leave Jerusalem on the morrow for a journey down to the Dead Sea, but returning in two or three days for a final sight of the ancient city.
CHAPTER III.
PALESTINE.
The journey to the Dead Sea is one undertaken by almost all travellers—notwithstanding the dangers, more imaginary than real, by which it is foreshadowed. Our dragoman was careful that our party left their gold and watches with the banker, as there were Tumours of an incursion of Bedouins from beyond Jordan. Indeed only some days previously, as we subsequently learned, an English clergyman and his companion had been seized at the eastern bank of the river and carried captive into Moab, where they were held prisoners several days for a heavy ransom.
Remounting our horses, we left the city in a southerly direction, to see the Pools of Solomon, about seven miles distant from the city. These consist of three large open reservoirs, from which the water supply of Jerusalem seems to have been obtained, and is so yet to some extent. They are very substantially built of stone. The water flows by gravitation along a small and very circuitous aqueduct on the surface of the hill sides, and covered merely with rough stones to protect it from the sun and from being soiled by the camels. To bring water by such means so long a distance, and along such a hilly country, is no mean engineering feat. It is done here in a manner remarkable for it’s simplicity and apparent efficiency. The aqueduct seemed to me very small in capacity—little more than that of a 12-inch pipe—and being so, its great age proves how very scientifically its fall and diameter had been mutually calculated, so as, without creating any pressure, to exactly meet all the requirements of the laws of hydraulics. Near this locality the path branches down towards the Frank Mountain, where is the famous Cave of Adullam, which, however, we did not visit.
From this we proceeded eastward to Bethlehem. I looked anxiously for the celebrated plains of Bethlehem, but no plains were visible—on the contrary, Bethlehem stands on high ground, on the eastern promontory of what is called tableland, although by no means level. It looked somewhat like a fortress in the distance, the most prominent object being the Church of the Nativity, built over what is asserted to be the manger in which our Saviour was laid, and clustering round it are several monasteries, chapels, and religious houses of the Latins and the other competing Christian sects. The church, which is I believe the most ancient Christian church in the world, having been built by the Princess Helena in the fourth century, is at present in a state of good preservation. The rafters of the roof seem fresh timbers, although these may have been oftener than once renewed since her day, but the double row of fine Grecian columns of reddish-streaked grey marble are evidently ancient.
Near the inner threshold is a marble star which we were once more told marked the centre of the world. This church, like that of the Holy Sepulchre, is in charge of the Turks, who divide its use equally to the Latins, the Greeks, and the Armenians. Descending a stair of sixteen steps from the north corner of the church, we enter a grotto or vault probably nine to twelve feet high, and lighted by numerous silver lamps, casting a gloom over the place much more like a sepulchre than a birthplace. This vault is long and tortuous in shape, and contains numerous cells or divisions, such as the Chapel of St. Jerome, Chapel of the Innocents, Tombs of Jerome and Eusebius, Scene of the Vision, the Magi’s Altar, and so on. But the principal is the Chapel of the Nativity, an oblong crypt about thirty-six feet long, paved, and its walls lined with polished marbles. The Recess, or Sacred Spot, is lighted by six Greek silver lamps, five Armenian and four Latin, continually burning! (I think a somewhat similar distribution of honours is made in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem.) Opposite is the Chapel of the Manger. It is of white marble, and is claimed I think by the Latins. The jewels and other ornaments and drapery in this vault are rich in the extreme. There is a large silver star, with a Latin inscription, to mark the exact spot of the nativity, and the veneration of the attendants and most of the “pilgrims” is apparently quite as great as in the Sepulchre at Jerusalem.