Hebron to Jerusalem
Hebron, Feb. 19. 1856. — About half-past six, walked out on the terrace of our dwelling. The sun was rising, and the grey tops of the many hills around were taking on the dayspring, telling us that the sun had now cleared the hills of Moab, and was again giving day to “Immanuers land.” Gradually the sunlight crept down the slopes, half-silver and half-gold, like a tide, breaking over the bare rocks and throwing its spray upon the olives. The light and shade of the square white houses came broadly out; mosque and minaret stood up in their best beauty; and the burying-ground beneath us looked almost gay, as the light passed over turf and tomb.... Beautiful!...
Being now considered clean, we were released from quarantine. After an early breakfast we walked through the streets, which we found dark, dirty, and full of holes, like those of other Eastern towns. We took as good a look at the mosque as our time admitted of; but, not being permitted to enter, we only saw a little of its exterior wall. Even of this one cannot get a right view, as the whole building is wedged in among houses, and would be quite buried were it not somewhat higher than its neighbours. The walls of its outer square are formed of very large stones, hewn and cut like those in the ancient parts of Jerusalem; and as David prepared much of the stonework in Solomon’s temple, it may be that these curious stones are the traces of his hands, during the seven years when he was king in Hebron, (1 Chron. xxii. 2-1 4). As, however, so many elaborate descriptions have been given of this mosque, which Jew, Christian, and Moslem all hold in veneration as being really Abraham’s burying-place, I need not give details.*
Moslem fanaticism has shut this cave against the world; and nowhere is this fanaticism wilder or more reckless than in El-Khulil. The Jewish temple had its great court open to all; Christian churches and cathedrals invite all to enter; only Mahommedanism, with peculiar exclusiveness, closes every gate of its mosques against the stranger.
Could we get access to the cave itself, we might find the bodies of the patriarchs still there; or at least that of J acob, for we read that “the physicians embalmed Israel (“Gen. 1. 2); so that his mummy may be entire.
* Dr Wilson, Dr Robinson, and the “Scotch Deputation,” will supply the reader with full details.
Jacob’s grave.
We have mummies in the British Museum at least as old as the time of Abraham; and if Jacob’s grave has not been rifled, his body will be found as it was when laid there by his sons.*
Yet it matters not in what form the bodies of these holy men may be found. The glory in reversion for them at “the resurrection of the just,” does not depend upon the contents of their tomb. They were careful about their bones, only that they might leave a testimony to their hope. Their wish to be gathered to their fathers was something more than a desire to mingle dust with dust. It was by such a burial that these three patriarchs took solemn possession of the land, both for themselves and for their sons. It was a threefold testimony to their faith in Him whom they saw afar off as “the resurrection and the life.” Gladly would they have seen him in their own day, but they were willing to wait for his; content to take life through death, resurrection through the grave, the incorruptible through corruption.
* I assume that Jacob was buried in Macphelah, according to Gen. 1. 13, “they buried him in the cave of the field of Machpelah.” According to the statement of the martyr Stephen, he was first carried to Sichem, as is implied indeed in the route which the funeral procession took (Gen. 1. 30). Stephen’s words may be read thus,” and were carried over into Sichem, and (afterward) laid in the sepulchre that Abraham bought for a sum of money, — by the sons of Emmor the father of Shechem,’’ Acts vii. 16). The sons of Emmor are thus represented as joining the ] rocession, and carrying the body to Shechem. Jacob’s body made somewhat the same round as himself, visiting Peniel and Succoth, crossing the Jordan, and coming to Shalem and Shechem. In life Emmor received him; in death the sons of Emmor (Gen. xxxiii. 18, 19).
We passed on through the streets to the bazaar, in which there was pretty much the usual amount ot eastern dirt and darkness; but less than the common number of talking or sauntering idlers. We were early, and business had hardly begun. On our wray we passed one of the manufactories of those skin-bottles, or waterholders, which are so common in the East. We had seen from the quarantine one or two large spaces covered with rows of black objects like sheep or pigs, or rather like the skins of these animals laid out to dry. But we now saw what these black rows really were. They were large skin-bottles in their first state of preparation for use. They had been cleaned and sewed together; but they require a long time of seasoning, so as to take away all remains of bad smell and the like. They had therefore been filled with water, and laid out in rows to enjoy sun and air. We must not suppose that there are no bottles of other kinds in the East. Earthenware vessels of every size are to be seen there in common use, even by the poor, and the vast quantity of broken pottery which we found in the extreme south of Palestine is proof that this was also the case in ancient times. But there seems a great difference between Egypt and Palestine in this matter. The latter being a pastoral country, and rocky everywhere, was better supplied with materials for bottles made of skin than of earth, than Egypt, which was not pastoral, but was a land of clay and sand, having in its soil all things needful for the potter’s work. In this way we see why the
GARDEN OF HERBS.
remains of pottery should be so much greater in Egypt than in Syria, and also why the southern districts of the latter should abound more in these broken relics than the northern.*
In order to see this skin-bottle manufactory, we had gone out of the way a little, and as we did not wish to go back, we went through the enclosure where these vessels were lying, and made our way out at the other end. Before we could reach the road, however, we had to go through a vegetable garden, or “garden of herbs,” (1 Kings, xxi. 2), then to scramble over a wall, on the top of which was a small hedge of prickly pear. In Scotland we should hardly have thought it right thus to make free with people’s gardens; but here no one seems to consider it a liberty. Whether walking or riding we used to go right through fields which were both ploughed and sown. Certainly it is sometimes not the fault of the traveller, for the owner often ploughs up the road, though perhaps it is the only one, and forces the passer-by to trespass on his soil. In former days it was counted the mark of wickedness and violence thus to transgress
* In the south of Palestine and in Egypt, but especially the latter, the quantity of broken pottery is quite amazing. No doubt in some parts this may be accounted for by the upper parts of the walls being built of a sort of hollow brick or cylinder, like some of the bricks used for draining in our own country; but still a great part of these must have been old useless jars cast out. They gave us an illustration of Jer. xxii. 28, “Is this m n Coniah a despised broken idol, is he a vessel wherein is no pleasure,” and H03. viii. 8, Israel “shall be among the Gentiles as a vessel wherein is no pleasure.” and not to regard “the way of the vineyard,” (Job. xxiv. 18).*
As we passed on we saw the large pool, a square enclosure, well built round, and containing a considerable amount of water. We thought on the scene which was witnessed on this spot more than 3000 years ago, when “David commanded his young men, and they slew them (the slayers of Ish-bosheth), and cut off their hands and feet, and hanged them up over the pool in Hebron,” (2 Sam. iv. 12). It was not in revenge, but in righteousness that the king spake. His words were the words of one who sought to put away the guilt of innocent blood from the land, and to shew what it is to “love an enemy,” It was in faith that he gave this command, publicly declaring his purpose not to be himself the instrument of removing any barriers in his way to the throne, and his desire to receive the crown only at the hands of God.
Passing through the flesh-market and slaughter, we found a considerable crowd, buying and selling for the day. The area wras confined and filthy, there were pools of blood along the street, and such smells arising, that we were glad to hasten through, and get into the open grave-yard, across wThich we passed to rejoin our party at the quarantina.
* So writes a modern: —
My son! the road the human being travels, That on which blessing comes and goes, doth follow The river s course, the valley’s playful windings, Curves round the corn-field and the hill of vines, Honouring the holy boanJj of property
SchiVer,
ADJOINING PLACES.
In a few minutes we had mounted our Syrian ponies and set our faces towards Jerusalem.
Gladly should we have gone southwards a little, to visit Tell-Ziph, which represents the mountain and wilderness of Ziph, where David took shelter when he fled from Saul (1 Sam. xxiii. 14, 15), to which Saul * went down with three thousand chosen men of Israel,” and where J onathan sought out David, and “strengthened his hand in God,” We should gladly have gone eastward to see the frequent ruins that strew that region, and tell the former populousness of the land; to wander through the “wilderness of Judea” (Matt. iii. 1), and climb the wild cliffs and bare white cones of Engedi, penetrating too, some of its endless caves and gorges. Pleasant it would have been to have diverged westward, and seen Keilah (Josh. xv. 44; 1 Sam. xxiii. 1, 4), and Lachish (J osh. xv. 39), or even to have gone as far as Gaza and Askkelon and the Great Sea. But we must move northwards without detour.
Recrossing the Moslem burying-ground, and then skirting the town, we soon found ourselves on the great north road; a road ancient enough I doubt not, but wofully rugged. Our desert-roads, with very few exceptions, were superb when compared with this. Sometimes over scattered stones, again over the flat or sloping faces of rocks, again over shingle a foot deep, again over mounds of debris, again along a narrow sheep-path, again through shrubs and jungle, sometimes, but rarely, over a piece of level ground, we moved along, wondering how our ponies contrived to stand, much more how they could ivcdk over such savage roads.* When the land was peopled, the roads were different from what we now see them. But with no one to care for them, no one to repair the tear and wear of ages, no one to replace the soil and embankments which the rains wash down, it is little wonder that all likeness to roads should have disappeared. The Boman roads that cross the high ridges of the Cheviot hills retain some traces of what they were, only by reason of the moist climate, which, nourishing grass, and moss, and heather, retains the soil and so preserves the outline of a road, which otherwise would have been long since swept away. Across the mountains of Northumberland and Boxburghshire once drove the Boman war-chariots, and, looking at the steeps over which they must have passed, one has less difficulty in understanding how the chariots of the Bephaim or of Israel may have found their way between Hebron and Jerusalem.
The scene was rich and the day beautiful; nor could a kindlier sun have shone upon” the hill-country of
* A recent traveller writing to a daily paper, gives as sad an account of the road between Damascus and Beyrut: — “Imagine the most hilly road in hilly Derbyshire lengthened into seventy miles, and covered in the most practicable parts with stones somewhat larger than those which pave the streets of London. When I say f covered,’ I mean heaped up at the sides, in the centre, everywhere, just as a London street is when under repair. To this add, every three or four hundred yards, large pieces of smooth, slippery rock, which you must pass over, and which being almost always on a steep slope, have either to be ascended or descended, according to the direction in which the traveller may be going.”
Solomon’s pools.
Judah,” through which we were riding. The series of rocky undulations was endless; and in these the greystone and the green seemed to mingle together, like wave and foam upon the sea.
At half-past one we descended a rocky steep and came down on “Solomon’s Pools,” or El-Burak as they are called by the natives; but they have been so often described that I need not go into detail. They consist of three immense oblong tanks, the second slightly lower than the first, and the third lower than the second. They are massively built on all sides, but at present only partially filled with water.* The lowest is the largest, being nearly six hundred feet long, and two hundred broad; the middle more than four hundred long and two hundred broad; the upper somewhat less than five hundred feet long and about two hundred feet broad at an average, for in all of them the east end is broader than the west. They are so formed that when the water in the upper gains a certain height, it begins to pass off into the second, and when the second fills, it discharges its surplus wTater into the third.*f* There can be no doubt that these are really the pools of which
* The Italian traveller Laffi, who visited them in the beginning of 1678, speaks of them a,sfull, “tutte piene di acqua,” p. 399.
f Mr Wilde notices their similarity to the fountains called Solomon’s at Ras-el-Ain, near Tyre. He also remarks on their being “natural springs pent up so as to raise the water to the level of its final destination,” and adds, “these springs were originally collected into one stream, which must then have formed a considerable rivulet, and running through the valley, discharged its waters into the Asphaltine lake.” — Narrative, vol. ii. p. 421, 422.
Solomon speaks, “I made me pools of water, to water therewith the wood that bringeth forth trees,” (Eccl. ii. 6). The “wTood” or “forest” where the trees, referred to in the previous verse, were “brought forth,” seems to be that of the gardens which adorn the adjoining valley.
The most interesting part of this erection we did not see; I mean the subterraneous chambers built over the springs which supply the pools, and which have been, on account of their elaborate structure and enclosures, regarded as “the spring shut up, the fountain sealed,” (Song iv. 12). These the old travellers have frequently referred to but not fully described.* Several moderns have supplied their deficiency.
We rested for nearly an hour in this hollow, surveying the three pools in all directions, and sitting down beneath the shadow of the old square castle of the Saracens, the Kalat-el-Burak, which is within a stone’s cast of the upper cistern. We then turned to the right, instead of going straight north, and took our way along the path which keeps beside the aqueduct. We observed the water at several apertures in the aqueduct or conduit, so that it is so far in working order. Most of these openings seemed made on purpose, and not
* Felix Fabri, vol. ii. p. 185, Domenico Lajji, Viaggio, p, 399, where the measurements of the pools are given. Antonio del Castillo, el Devoto peregrino, p. 295, where the dimensions of the pools are also given. Maundrel, (Bohn’s Edition), p. 457. Hietling’s Peregrinus per terram sanctam, p. 263, (AJD. 1712). Perry’s View of the Levant, Syria, &c. (a.d. 1743), p. 129. The fullest description is by Mr Nicolayson in the Jewish Intelligence for 1855, p. 290. The Scotch Deputation also measured them.
G
solomon’s pools.
merely breaches through disrepair. This disproves the assertion of some that it was meant to be quite water-tight, in order that the water might ascend the hills which lay on its way to Jerusalem. It seemed to us to preserve the line of level with remarkable care, though in order to do this it was forced to make innumerable bends and detours.* This aqueduct is one of the oldest in the world, and indicates the possession of a greater amount of science both among Jews and Phoenicians than we have usually given them credit for. There must have been some accurate process by which the levels were taken, though of the instruments employed we know nothing. The length of this aqueduct is very considerable. The direct distance between the pools and the temple will be about eight miles, but the number of windings, and the wide sweep of many of the curves, have lengthened out the conduit to twelve, or as some reckon, fourteen miles.-f- It is a wonderful specimen of ancient enterprise as well as art. What king of that age thought of bringing water into his capital over hills and ravines, from a distance of eight miles?
Riding along the slopes of the hills we soon came
* “A field officer of artillery,” who published a “Diary” of his tour in 1821 and 1822, affirms that this aqueduct “in several parts of its course, decidedly ascends the hills and in a foot-note reasserts this from close and repeated observation.” — Diary, p. 313. See also Spencer Hardy’s “Notices of the Holy Land” in 1832, p. 214.
f Ilietling says, “fons signatus, influendo Jerusalem per montes et valles gyrat, et facit plus quam 30 mill. Ital.” (p. 268). Even reckoning his Italian miles in the proportion of three to two of ours, the above statement is extravagant.
TIIE GARDEN y OF SOLOMON.
to the wady and village of Urtas, below us on our right. The village is poor enough, but the valley is beautiful, and in the full glow of summer verdure must be much more so. Its cultivation is greatly on the increase. It was of this that Solomon wrote, in that most “experimental” of all discourses ever preached or written, “I made me gardens and orchards,” or more literally, “paradises and “I planted trees on them of all kinds of fruits,” (Eccl. ii. 5). For these are undoubtedly the gardens of Solomon. Urtass is the name by which the place is now known; though some travellers speak of Wady Etdn as still known by the natives, preserving the ancient Etam of Rehoboam (2 Chron. xi. 6), and Josephus (Ant. viii. 7, 3). If Urtass be the proper name, it would seem as if the natives had got it from a corruption of the Latin hortus. But others say that El-Tas or El-Tos is the real name, (that is, “the cup”), and that the monks perverted this into hortus, and that, lastly, the natives perverted this into Urtass. It is indeed both a garden and a cup. It is one of the sweetest valleys into which the eye can look down; a well-watered orchard covered with every goodly fruit-tree that Syria nourishes.
It was to these pools and gardens, which Josephus calls Etham, that Solomon used to ride, in a morning. He had made highways of “black stone,” in different directions, from Jerusalem, so that he might drive along in his chariot to the different places around; and very splendid is the picture which the Jewish
Solomon’s glory.
historian draws of “Solomon in his glory” on such occasions. His retinue was a company of 2000 horsemen, all of them in the flush of youth, tall and powerful, ’ ‘goodly to see to,” mounted on coursers whose swiftness was as notable as was their obedience to the rein. Clothed in Tyrian purple, with long hair clustering round their stately necks, and powdered with gold which sparkled in the sunlight, they swept round the mighty monarch, forming a cavalcade which later “fields of gold,” cannot pretend, either in brilliance or numbers, to equal, far less to overpass. For being clad in armour, and armed with the Eastern bow, they added to the fair adornings of peace, the dazzling magnificence of war. — £ terrible as an army with banners.” He himself, the wondrous king, seated in his chariot and clothed in white, rode on in the midst, his queen by his side, her “raiment of needlework,” her “clothing of wrought gold.”* He leaves Jerusalem at dawn. The sun has just risen over the Mount of Olives, and is shining down upon the temple and the palace, when he issues forth from the city. The crowTd gathered round the Zion-gate shout forth their admiration, and cry, “in thy majesty ride prosperously” (Psa. xlv. 4); while “all his garments smell of myrrh and aloes and cassia, out of the ivory palaces” (Psa, xlv. 8); and the garments ol his
* “King Solomon made himself a chariot of the wood of Lebanon; he made the pillars thereof of silver, the bottom thereof of gold, the covering of it of purple; the midst thereof being paved with love for [or by] the daughters of Jerusalem,” (Song iii. 9. 10).
Solomon’s glory. spouse are “like the smell of Lebanon,” (Song iv. 11). Crossing the hollow of what is called Gihon, they soon reach the wide fields beyond. Spreading itself out over the broad plain of Rephaim, yet marked with the monuments of his father’s victory over the Philistines, the monarch’s train sweeps onwards, a glittering mass of gold and purple and burnished steel! Onwards still they move over the rugged heights and hollows that lie beyond that plain. Passing Er-Ram on the left and Rachel’s tomb on the right, they reach Bethlehem; and the king for the thousandth time gazes on the slopes where his father fed his flock. The whole city comes out to see the matchless splendour and gaze on the gorgeous array, as the troop pours itself along. Onwards and downwards they move to the deep valley, whose centre and sides present one mass of flower and foliage, the small brook finding its bright course between. To the south the train disperses itself to refresh man and beast at the welcome pools, while Solomon goes “into his garden to eat his pleasant fruits” (Song iv. 16), to mark “the fig-tree putting forth its green figs,” to admire the “flowers appearing on the earth,” and to listen to “the voice of the turtle,” (Song ii. 12, 13). Yes, he is “gone down into his garden to the beds of spices, to feed in his garden, and to gather lilies;” he is “gone down into the garden of nuts, to see the fruits of the valley, to see whether the vines flourish and the pomegranates are budding,” (Song vi. 2, 11). To his queen at his side he says,” I am come into my garden, my
A GARDEN ENCLOSED.
sister, my spouse: I have gathered my myrrh with my spice; I have eaten my honey-comb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk 33 (Song v. 1).*
What a scene must this have been! Nor was it rare, or confined to certain festal times. It was a common occurrence. These “fifty furlongs” were the king’s usual morning ride. The plains and the hills between Jerusalem and Etham are silent now, but how often have they echoed to the tread and the shouts of Israel’s multitudes, and shone, in the day-spring, beneath the glitter of the most brilliant equipage this world ever saw. No expression could better describe the spot than that used by Solomon, “a garden inclosed,” (Song iv. 12). It is “shut in” on every side, and lies there like a fragment of Paradise left behind to shew what this world was once, and what it shall be in “the times of the restitution of all things,” when “the wilderness shall become a fruitful field, and the fruitful field be counted for a forest,” A little way up the valley is a spring which gushes out of the side of the rock and waters the gardens. Here, when visiting the place subsequently, we saw about a score of Arab women and children, some drawing water, some washing clothes in the clear water as it spread itself out, on leaving its source, over a pretty large inclosure of stone, before making its way by the small canals into the gardens. This is just as likely to
* It is the greater than Solomon, no doubt, who speaks these words; but the figures are all taken from the literal Solomon, and a reference to his history brings them out in their full power and beauty.
be te the spring shut, the fountain sealed,” as the vaulted chamber above the pools, already mentioned. But it matters not. The passage is illustrated by either. Tradition says that Solomon shut up the springs belonging to his garden, and sealed them with his own signet, that he might keep them fresh and unsoiled. So that we have in this scene the illustration of the whole verse, first, the “garden enclosed,” secondly, the “spring shut up,” and thirdly, the “fountain sealed.” The next two verses look backward and describe the garden as an orchard (or Paradise) of pomegranates, with pleasant fruits, camphire with spikenard; spikenard and saffron, calamus and cinnamon, with all trees of frankincense, myrrh and aloes, with all the chief spices,” Then the watering of this Paradise is described. “A fountain,” nay, “a well of living waters,” — nay, cooler and more perennial than all, “streams from Lebanon.”
Here, on the following Sabbath, I preached. Certainly the congregation was not a large one, but still it was interesting in spite of its smallness. It consisted of the owner or tenant of these gardens, his wife and family, with Mr Graham of Jerusalem, whose wont it is to come here once a fortnight to hold worship with this little flock, who would otherwise be shut out from ordinances. The owner’s name is Meshullam, — a converted Jew, who, with his family, has been settled here for some time. It was most pleasant and interesting to speak of the name and glory of the true Solomon
FRUITFULNESS OF THE SOIL.
in a place like this! It was just a scene in the midst of which one could read and understand the “Song of songs.” Trees, fruits, and flowers were all around; and though much here had changed since Solomon used to visit the spot, yet the great features of the place were all the same. Solomon had seen these rocks, he had walked in this valley, he had drank of this spring.
The soil is very fruitful, both as regards fruit-trees and vegetables, shewing here as elsewhere how easy it would be to bring back the land to its former richness. Meshullam is very successful in his operations, and finds a good market for his produce in J erusalem, in spite of the curses of some fanatical Rabbis, who forbade their brethren to buy from him. He is planting olives, figs, and vines. And this serves a double purpose. It not merely enriches him with the fruit, but it makes the land inalienably his. For it is a law of the kingdom, that whoever plants a tree becomes permanent possessor of all the ground which is covered at noon by the shadow of that tree when grown to the full. We saw the almond-tree in blossom, and some others, such as the apricot, beginning to bud. The hill sides were sprinkled with wild flowers very plentifully. Here was the small yellow- white star of Bethlehem, clinging to every crevice. Here was the cyclamen with its streaked leaf of dark-green, and its exquisitely formed flower, half pink, half white; — its huge bulb hidden among the stones, through which its stalk shot up. There was the anemone, with its crimson flowers and fringe-like leaf rising wherever there was the smallest patch of soil into which to strike its roots. Besides these, there were flowers of every colour and name shewing themselves on all sides, — small in size but beautiful in form and hue, — some drinking in the sunshine, others enjoying the shade. Truly “Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.”
It was thus that Solomon, as the Prince of peace, beat his father’s swords into ploughshares, and his spears into pruning-hooks, foretelling the day of earth’s final peace, after long years of war and blood, — the day when “the Lord shall comfort Zion. when he will comfort all her waste places, when he will make her wilderness like Eden, and her desert like the garden of the Lord,” (Is. li. 3). And what a change it will be to Palestine when “the desolate land shall be tilled,” when the land that was desolate shall become like the garden of Eden, and the waste and desolate and ruined cities shall be fenced and inhabited,” (Ezek. xxxvi. 34, 35)! Then shall they “plant vineyards, and eat the fruit of them, and drink the wine thereof; then shall they make gardens, and eat the fruit of them,” (Am. ix. 14). And it is worth while to notice that, when God made Israel to be carried away captive to Babylon, he bade them, in token of their quiet sojourn there for seventy years, “plant gardens, and eat the fruit of them,” (Jer. xxix. 5).
All the Pashas in the east have “gardens,” whether in imitation of Solomon or not we do not say. Cer-SMOOTHNESS OF THE ROCKS.
tainly he is a great authority in these lands, even with Moslems, — his sayings and doings being handed down from father to son, and his name kept up as a common one among all classes, both poor and rich; the Bedaween of the desert and the Effendis of Syria.
But we must pass the gardens of Solomon, and go forward. We soon leave the aqueduct, which like a serpent winds along, now disappearing and now reappearing; and find ourselves ere long within sight of Bethlehem. Moving onwards along the rugged road, sometimes through half-tilled fields and sometimes up a rough hillside, sometimes down into a deep vale, we at length ascend a steep, formed, not of rough stones and soil, but of sloping shelves of solid rock. It was somewhat alarming. No English horse, great or small, would have faced such a j)ath, especially as in many places it was worn into smoothness on which no foot could stand. Of such acclivities Solomon perhaps spoke when he said that; he knew not “the way of a serpent upon a rock,” (Prov. xxx. 19). The prophet Amos, too, perhaps knew these smooth steeps, as Tekoah, where he fed his flocks, was not far off, and it was a place like this that made him ask the question, “Shall horses run upon the rock; will one plough there with oxen?” (Amos vi. 12.) Our stout, sure-footed Syrian ponies did not hesitate. It seemed a matter of great indifference to them what sort of road it was, — level or steep, soft or hard, smooth cr rocky. They were at home on all of these. Not so we. Accordingly some of us dismounted, thinking our own feet surer than theirs. As I had begun, even already, to have some confidence in our tough little steeds, I kept my saddle, and without a slip or stumble my pony carried me to the top of the whole series of sloping shelves. Just about the top, and almost immediately before entering the town, we came upon the well of David, and if the town then stood where it now does, the well would be just, as David describes it, “by the gate,” (2 Sam. xxiii. 15). The gate certainly is gone; but the well is there. It is an arched enclosure of a considerable compass, and open at the sides. We heard, as we came near, the noise of many voices, with mirth between; not the sound of quarrelling Arabs, which had become familiar to us, but something gentler, such as we heard at Hebron when first we entered. As we came up to the well we saw some twenty or thirty females, all busy, both with tongue and hands, at their work of washing and drawing water. Little children, girls, young women, aged mothers, were there, — though the larger number consisted of the girls of Bethlehem. They were dressed for work, not for a holiday; but it was the oriental dress of many colours, and these colours brought out bright by the sun of a Syrian noon. The scene had a life, and a glow, and a beauty about it, which, even apart from its old histories, could not but fascinate a stranger’s eye. We rode up to the joyous circle, and, though we could not converse with them, Ave could ask for water. One of them drew it for us in pa skin-pitcher, into which I dipped my gutta-percha
BETHLEHEM.
cup, and quenched my thirst with the pleasant waters of David’s well, not asking whether it was really his or not.
In a few minutes we were in the midst of Bethlehem, looking down upon the opposite steep, and standing before the small low gate of the convent. Dismounting, and leaving our ponies in the keeping of some young Bethlemites, we bent our heads, or rather bodies, to the height of the door-way, and went in. We saw the “church of the nativity,” the “cave of the nativity,” the “tomb of the innocents,” the marble slab, in front of which is the inlaid Latin inscription, hie de Virgine Maria Jesus Christies natus est, — “Here, of the Virgin Mary, Jesus Christ was born.” All is darkness in these chapels or cells, save what the candle or the silver lamp gives forth of light. Such darkness may be needed for the sake of effect; but what harmony is there between it and the scene of which these buildings speak? Light, not darkness, ought to have been there; and the sunniest hill-top that ever welcomed an eastern dayspring would not have been too bright as the memorial-spot of such a birth.* And had self-righteous men, who “loved the darkness rather than the light,” been contented to leave the place alone in its bare beauty, all would have suited well, and that quiet hill on which Bethlehem sits so wrell, instead of being overshadowed by a monstrous structure, half-church, half-fort, under which the sacred places lie buried in gloom, would have held up to view,
* “Fulgent cunabuia Christi,” is the old raying.
man’s artifices. in glorious sunlight, the never-to-be-forgotten spot where, “through the tender mercy of our God, the dayspring from on high visited us, to give light to them that sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,” (Luke i. 78, 79). What have these chambers of gloom to do with the rising of that “light that was to lighten the Gentiles?” (Luke ii. 32.) Darkness is for the hour of evil and the night of disaster. How suits it the morning of the brightest day that has yet dawned upon the earth? What fellowship have the shadows of the cloister or the cell with the birth of the Son of God? What likeness is there between the mysterious sadness which these religious artifices try to throw around us, and the glad tidings of God’s free love, in which there is no darkness, no sadness at all? These dim windows, these massive walls, these thick gratings, these cells and chapels, with all their lamps and tapers, pictures and statues, — what are they but man’s weak endeavours to shut out God’s free blessed light, in order to create a necessity for kindling one of his own, by the merchandise of which he may make his gain on earth, and per-
* The place shewn as the stable is a cave, low and narrow. Jerome mentions it as “specus Salvatoris,” the stable where, he says, the ox knew its owner, and the ass its master’s crib. It is not certainly a likely place for a stable, especially in the palmy days of Palestine. Even now such a place would only be resorted to from necessity. Dr Robinson goes too far, perhaps, in affirming that such stables are not used in the east; but others are farther wrong who speak of this as a usual eastern practice, and who, moreover, imply that such was the practice in the prosperous days of this land.
Jerome’s cell.
suade his victims that they, in the purchase of it, are buying heaven.
“Lents, embers, vigils, groans, humi-cubations,
Tears, pensiveness, disconsolate privacie,
Severest arts of all mortifications,
Are not conditions required by
An earthlie suitor: and can heavenly He
Imbitter thus his deare saints’ suavitie?”
Joseph Beaumont.
Jerome’s cell did interest us, even with all the folly that was painted on it. It is likely to be the real spot where that old father spent his days in learned labour, and where he died at the age of ninety. His letters, his treatises, and his commentaries, are not without their value. But no one from them could learn what God’s free love is, or what is God’s testimony to the work of his Son upon the cross, in the simple belief of which we are at once forgiven, His learning had not taught him these things. Self-righteous darkness overshadows his pages; and his expositions only shew us how sadly he had followed Origen’s example, and turned aside from the accurate sense of Scripture into the vagueness of allegory and mystery.
We did not stay long amid the follies and mockeries of the convent.* Glad to be done with them, we were hastening out, when we were met in the outer court,
* The author of the old Arabic history of the Temple of Jerusalem, says of Bethlehem — “We may not enter the church at Bethlehem, because there is imagery therein” (p. 144). hard by the chapel door, by the “buyers and sellers” of Bethlehem, who carry on a trade here in olive beads, mother-of-pearl crosses, Hebron glass-rings, boxes made of Dead Sea asphalt, and such like articles, — making the church, if not a den of thieves, at least a house of merchandise. Their traffic is not a dull one at any time, but is especially brisk at those seasons when the pilgrims flock in thousands to the shrine.
We left the town, not without many a look behind, for it remains long in view, and like all Eastern villages looks best from a distance.* After we had ridden above a mile, we descried three riders approaching us, evidently not natives, but English. One of them was my friend Mr Graham, who had for the last two years been sojourning in Jerusalem. We had not seen a fellow-countryman for six weeks, so we were glad to receive and return a Scottish welcome on the heights of Bethlehem.
“Have you seen the Shepherd’s Plain,” was one of our friend’s first questions.
“No, we have not,” was our answer.
“Then turn back and I will be your guide to it.”
We turned accordingly and rode towards the town.
* I remembered the words of Jerome, read long ago, in one of his letters from Bethlehem; “In thi3 village of Christ all is rural simplicity. Save the sound of psalms all is silence. The ploughman holding the ploughshare sings Alleluia. The sweating reaper employs himself with psalms. The vinedresser pruning his vines with curving hook, sings some song of David. These are our songs in this region; these are our love-chants.” — Ejx’st. ad Marcellam. See also his Epitaph of Paula.
THE PLAIN OF THE SHEPHERDS.
About half-a-mile from it, and at the top of the opposite slope, a road leads to the left. Into this we first turned aside. At the corner where the roads meet, there is a garden or orchard, chiefly planted with fig-trees. This, tradition says, was the farm of Jesse, the father of David. Close by this there is a field where there is a very old well, and where the ruins of some old town are observable under the surface. This may have been the original city of Bethlehem.* We then rode through the town once more, in order to reach the Plain of the Shepherds. On our way a Bethlehemite met us, offering for sale the head and antlers of a large stag.
“How much,” said one of the party.
“Thirty piastres,” replied the man of Bethlehem.
“Fifteen,” was the offer on our side; but the man shook his head, and we passed on. Down the steep slope we went, on through a ploughed field to the Shepherd’s Plain. In the middle of it are the ruins of a convent or church, surrounded by trees, chiefly olives. As this is the only plain in the neighbourhood, the district being very hilly, there is little doubt that this is the real plain where the shepherds fed their flocks when the angel appeared. They were “abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night” (Luke ii. 8),
* Perhaps it was here that the tomb of Jesse and David was shewn in the time of Eusebius and Jerome. Onomast. Bethlehem. There is also an old well here which may be the true “well of Bethlehem.” It is not at all unlikely that Bethlehem may have migrated a little from its original site as Hebron has done. most likely in spring or summer, not in winter. To these believing men, lying on this green plain, the message came, concerning the wondrous birth. “While feeding their sheep, they found the Lamb of God,” as Jerome remarks.* Over all these hills which rise on every side the glory shone, — that same glory which Moses saw in the bush, and which afterwards took up its dwelling in the tabernacle and temple. Round these grey rocks echoed the praises of the heavenly host, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace and good will toward men,” Up that very steep which we had just descended, these good men proceeded with all haste to see the holy child. On yon height stood the stable into which they entered and found the babe with Mary and J oseph. They told their tale, not only to the parents, but to the wondering people (Luke ii. 17, 18); and then quietly retraced their steps down the same road and resumed their wTatch. The scene, the voice, the music, the glory, the shepherds’ eager steps, — all came up before us. How true everything appeared!
On this plain too David had fed his flocks; and perhaps it was here that the 23d Psalm was given to him by the Spirit of God. How pleasantly did it sound here, — “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.” Here too Ruth had gleaned, when living with Naomi in the city. After lingering a short time on the spot, and gazing on all the heights, we moved upwards to the village. As we passed through it, the same large antlers
* “Bum servant oves, invencrunt ngimm Dei.” — JEpilaphum Paula e.
THE BIRTHPLACE OF SAMUEL.
were flourished again before us, and the same price asked. After following ns for some time, and seeing that it was vain to attempt to get us up to his price, the Bethlehemite came down to ours, and gave the horns for the fifteen piastres. This was a good specimen of an Eastern bargain; charge double of what you expect to get; get the whole if you can, if not take the half, or perhaps the tenth!
We now moved forward to Jerusalem. Behind us was Bethlehem; beneath us to the right the shepherds’ plain, and above it the village Pastore, in which the shepherds are said to have dwelt. We soon came to an immense mound of ruins on the right, called (we were told) by the Arabs Er-Ram* That a town of some size stood here once is plain, and there are some things in Scripture which lead us to fix on this as Ramah or Ramathaim-Zophim, the birth-place and home of Samuel. The region round about was called the land of Zuph (1 Sam. ix. 5), from Zuph, one of Elkanah’s ancestors (1 Sam. i. 1), and from this the town seems to have taken its name of Zophim. It is on a height which gives a wide view on all sides, and hence we read of Saul and his servant, that “they went up the hill to the city,” (1 Sam. ix. 11). Here Hannah dwelt, and
* The old travellers frequently mention a Ramah near Rachel’s tomb. Lam, Viaggio, p. 337. But they meant Beit-jalah, as the following passage of a long resident Spaniard shews: “enfrente deste sepulcro como dos millas apartada, esta la cuidad de Rama, oy se llama Voticheld” (Beit-jalah) Antonio del Castillo, p. 265. mourned and prayed, till the Lord gave her the son she longed for. From this she set out to Shiloh, bearing her precious gift, the child of grief and faith, to present him to the Lord. Here she made him the “little coat, and took it to him from year to year when she came up with her husband to offer the yearly sacrifice” (1 Sam. ii. 19) and how many happy journeys northwards to Shiloh must that glad mother have had, to visit her dedicated son! And that God, to whom she so freely gave him, returned the gift in after days; for when he grew up, and probably after the ark had been taken from Shiloh, Samuel came back to Ramah to make glad a father’s and a mother’s heart. It was Israel’s sin that had thus driven him home; but still there would be joy in Ramah and in Eikanah’s house when such a son returned to such a mother! Thus faith gets the blessing at last, and the very joy that it parted with for God is sent back in richer fulness into the bosom of the self-denying one. She had given him up a feeble child, she gets him home a priest of God’s tabernacle, nay a prophet and a judge in Israel, owned both of God and man, one of the fairest examples of consistent faith and holiness that Israel ever saw. From childhood he knew the Lord God of his fathers, and to his old age “he walked with him in peace and equity, and did turn away many from iniquity,”
Since we left Beersheba we had passed many a ruin. Simeon and Judah have forsaken their dwellings, —” scattered, as the stubble passeth away, by the wind of
RACHEL’S TOMB.
the wilderness” (Jer. xiii. 24); — cities and villages are heaps of rubbish, for
“The cities of the south shall be shut up,
And none shall open them.” (Jer. xiii. 19.)
Leaving Er-Ram we came to Eachel’s tomb, which is close at hand, to the left of the road. The present building is merely a Mahommedan Wely, not perhaps very old; but there is little doubt that it was here, on her way to Ephratah that Rachel died in giving birth to him whom she in her anguish called Benoni, but whom his father, looking into ages to come, called Benjamin, — a name prophetic of the warrior tribe, which gave birth to such men as Kish and Saul. On this spot Jacob’s tents were pitched, as he and his band halted because of Rachel’s sorrow. Here he watched and wept, and here he laid her down to rest till the great day of rising, when the “dwellers in the dust shall awake and sing,” Here many a Jew buries his dead; and hither do they oft resort to pray; as if the cry of the soul could get better up to heaven from this old tomb than from the closet where faith makes its directest appeal to Him “who seeth in secret.” Inside are Hebrew names carved upon the walls. Outside is a large hole or pit, built round and arched, where skulls and bones without number were lying in a mass. It was a dull afternoon when we saw it, for clouds had covered a sky which a few hours before was bright and clear, and the scene looked bleak. The ground was stony, and the slopes around were grey and bare, relieved only by the olives which were sprinkled over their face.
On the height to the west stands the village of Beit-Jalah, dwelt in chiefly by members of the Greek Church. A splendid palace for the patriarch is now erecting, and is the most striking object in the view. The forest of olives which covers the hill and almost surrounds the houses, sets off the village to great advantage; while the white walls of the village finely bring out the green of the olives. In days of greater fruitfulness, the scene must have been one of no common beauty. Even now, these wooded heights seemed almost to redeem the bleakness of the rocky ground below, around the tomb of Rachel. It is thought that this town of Beit- Jalah is the Zelah or Zelzah of Scripture (Josh, xviii. 28, 1 Sam. x. 2, 2 Sam. xxi. 14). This is doubtful, though not impossible.*
We reached Mar Elyas about five o’clock. It is a structure of Greek superstition, many a century old and often noticed by travellers, who sometimes speak of it as the birthplace of the prophet, but more generally as his resting-place on his way to Beersheba.-f* It
* One traveller calls this place Votichela (see p. 114), another calls it Boetese Clacli or Boticella (Van Egmond, vol. i. p. 363), another calls it Bootishella (Thomson, vol. iii. p. 163). Tradition has fixed the field and tomb of the prophet Habakkuk not far from this, where certain small round stones are said to be found (Felix Fabri, vol. i. p. 431), and as Jerome has connected this tomb with Echela” {Hachilah, 1 Sam. xxiii. 19, xxvi. 1), where David hid himself, it would seem as if Boticella were regarded as the modern representative of Hachilah. While some seem to have reckoned this Ramah, others point out the Frank mountain as Ramah (Felix Fabri. vol. ii. p. 335).
f “Alytell farther we came to an olde churche where the propheto Elyas was borne,” (Pilgrimage of Sir R. Guylforde, (a.d. 1506) p. 35.)
FIRST VIEW OF JERUSALEM.
is on the ridge which slopes northward to Jerusalem and southward to Bethlehem. Greek tradition points out the dint in a flat stone by the wayside, made by his body as he slept. This is one of the many miraculous indentations with which the superstition both of the east and west has covered the rocks. Feet, hands, fingers, toes, body, have all left their prints on the yielding stone; and those skilful ecclesiastical geologists, the monks, have read them off to a nicety, giving us not only genus and species, as our common geologists do with antediluvian or pre-adamite footprints, but name, surname, and date.
I looked at the fabulous bed, without dismounting or even stopping; and on turning round again I descried something of what seemed an angle of a large village, perhaps three miles in front, A piece of battlemented wall, and one or two minarets, appeared in view. They seemed on a lower platform than that by which we were descending, and were at the same time thrown in relief against some bare, grey, and rather shabby-looking hills that came up behind them. What place is that, I asked? That place? It is Jerusalem! — Jerusalem! What a thrill went through the heart-. Jerusalem! Is it so? And have we seen. Jerusalem at last!
We ceased to speak; smitten dumb by a feeling, of which I had never known the like, nor ever expect to know again.
Wonder, solemnity, joy, sadness, were all mingled together. Yet above these, or at least with these, there rose up affection; affection as tender and profound as that with which one regards the city of their birth, their father’s resting-place, and their children’s home. British nationality seemed for a moment lost in something greater than itself.
A man’s first look at Jerusalem is not a thing which calls up exclamations, or which gets vent in words; and so we mused in silence, not asking any questions nor turning round to adjoining objects, nor doing anything that would break the new spell that had in a moment bound us, or interfere with the one thought that filled us, — “this is J erusalem.”
Other places have their objects of interest; Sinai spoke to us of Moses, Hebron of Abraham, Bethlehem of the newr -born Christ. But Jerusalem has a thousand such objects; and it was the sudden uprising of these in one glorious cloud that so fixed the eye and absorbed the mind. Memories without number seemed to float over that mountain-circle which embraces and embosoms the wondrous city. Melchizedec, David, Solomon, Hezekiah, Isaiah, Jeremiah, — the Son of God himself; — but no; — it is vain to name the names or number the events linked with this old spot. They make up one mighty sum, and we dwell upon this great whole. We give ourselves up to the influence of this great mass of holy histories, without any attempt for the present to analyse or distinguish. That will come afterwards. Meanwhile we surrender ourselves to the undefined feeling
ENVIRONS OF JERUSALEM.
that springs from the simple knowledge that this is Jerusalem.
The view we get from this spot is far from being a
good one. We might be inclined to call it poor. But
it was reality; and how vivid as well as howT refreshing
did that reality appear to us who had just the moment
before been gazing on traditional lies and monkish
mockeries! The stone of Mar-Elias and the Mount of Olives, — what a difference between the clumsy fable and the majestic truth!
The city seemed to possess magnetic power. We felt drawn towards it, — eager to stand within its gates. Not so had it been with Sinai. The stern memories of the past, and the inhospitable wildness of the present, repelled us. There was nothing attractive in its fiery peaks, associated as they were with death, and wrath, and the inexorable law. But Jerusalem wins the heart, and draws the steps towards itself, by a mighty and mysterious magnetism. You feel as if approaching home, and as if every object and scene were bidding you welcome.
We passed rapidly on, having the plain of Rephaim on our left. This plain, or “valley,” is noted in the history of David’s wars with the Philistines. It was here that “the host of the Philistines” encamped when Bethlehem was garrisoned by them, and David was in the cave of Adullam (2 Sam. xxiii. 14). It was here that they “came and spread themselves out,” when they heard that David was anointed king over all Israel, (2 Sam. v. 1 7; 1 Chron. xiv. 8, 9). Somewhere in this neighbourhood must have been BaalPerazim, where David smote them, and where he burned with fire “their gods,” which in their flight they had left behind them. It was to this same valley that they came up again, and “spread themselves abroad,” And somewhere here must have been the “mulberry- trees” (perhaps the valley of Baca, Psalm lxxxiv. 6) where David was commanded to attack them, and where he smote them “from Gibeon even to Gazer” (1 Chron. xiv. 15, 16), or, as it is in the corresponding place in Samuel, “from Geba until thou come to Gazer” (2 Sam. v. 25), shewing that Gibeon and Geba are the same. Baal-Perazim means place of breaches, because, said David, “the Lord hath broken forth upon mine enemies before me as the breach of waters,” (2 Sam. v. 20). Afterwards the name Perazim seems to have been given to some hill hard by; for we read in Isaiah of Mount Perazim (Isa. xxviii. 21). In this chapter there are several abrupt announcements of blessing and deliverance, interrupting the dark flow of judgment upon judgment; and this is one of them. It is God’s intimation of His purpose yet to sweep away Israel’s enemies in the latter day as in former ages; u for (or yet, surely) the Lord shall rise up as in Mount Perazim; he shall be wroth as in the valley of Gibeon.” Rephaim was one of the landmarks on the boundary-line between the tribe of Judah and Benjamin.” The border went up by the valley of the son of Hinnom, unto the south side
APPROACH JERUSALEM.
of the Jebusite, the same is Jerusalem; and the border went up to the top of the mountain that lieth before the valley of Hinnom westward, which is at the end of the valley of the giants (Rephaim) northward,” (J osh. xv. 8). It was a place for crops, as is plain from the prophet’s allusion, when he compares Israel, in their scattering, to the few ears of corn left for the gleaners: — “it shall be as he that gathereth ears in the valley of Rephaim,” (Isa. xvii. 5).
As we came nearer the city we descended considerably into the hollow, where lies what the natives call Birket-es-Sultan, or King s Pool, and which some suppose to be the lower pool of Gihon. Here Solomon’s aqueduct passes over to Mount Zion, and thence to Mount Moriah. Just before this, on the left, was a large space enclosed with new white walls, where a building was beginning to be erected for the benefit of the J ews, by Sir Moses Montefiore. We saw camels bringing the stones, and the workman hewing them with their large hammers; for neither in Egypt nor in Palestine did we see the chisel employed for hewing or smoothing the stones. It is only the sound of “axes and hammers,” that is heard in these lands. On a large stone at one of the angles of the outer walls, looking towards the road, we read, in very large Hebrew characters, M. M., being, as we interpreted, the initials of the benevolent founder, who gives liberally of his money (as few European Jews do) for the temporal benefit of his nation.
The sun had set, and the evening was closing up, so we hastened forward. We were on the point of being too late for admittance; for the signal-man or watchman, or whatever his name of office may be, had come out, and standing on a small hillock, from which he could be well heard on all sides, was shouting vigorously, “Yellah, yell ah,” — Come on, come on; the same shout that cheered us up the pyramids, and so often greeted us in the desert from the lips of sheikh or dragoman. It had more in it of the chiding than of the welcome; but we, along with some loiterers outside, obeyed the summons, and, mounting the steep, were soon within the gates of J erusalem.
We entered by the south-western or Jaffa gate, the chief place of exit and of entrance.* Immediately on entering, the castle or tower of David is seen on the right hand, a massive oblong structure, which had been partly visible from the outside. The street into which we passed was wide and open; but only half paved, and encroached upon, just behind the gate, by a large pool of rain-water. A few minutes, however, brought us to the gate of our hotel, and another minute seated us in the comfortable parlour of Mr Simeon Rosenthal, where dinner was awaiting us. Like most such rooms in Jerusalem, it is arched; stone being much cheaper than wood. Inside
* Two English pilgrims that visited the city in 1611, speak thus of this gate: — “The west gate of the city is called Joppa gate, or castle gate, and is a very strong gate of iron, with thirteen pieces of brasse ordinance planted on the wall about the gate;” (p. 97.) These writers add: — “There is not one fair street in allJerusalem, as it now is.” Matters are not much improved since then.
DESERT WANDERINGS OYER.
this gives rather an elegant appearance to the chamber, and the dome on the roof takes away from the monotonous flatness which the square houses of the east often exhibit. This excellent hotel is on Mount Zion, very near the English church. Our windows looked down upon the large square pool, called Hezekiah’s; beyond which there shot up the patched and clumsy dome of the church of the Holy Sepulchre; while beyond that, in the distance, there rose the flat ridge of Scopus. Often, as I looked down upon that old church, so far within the city, now in the day of its contraction, I have wondered how any one could expect us to believe that once, in the day of the city’s far-spread fulness, it could have stood without its walls.
Our desert-wanderings were now fairly over, and we had the prospect of a three weeks’ sojourn here. Our feet now stood within Jerusalem, and our head was to rest, not beneath the canvas of a tent, but under the roof of a dwelling, a dwelling in that city and on that mount which from childhood we had longed to see.
The day was rapidly falling, and the sky, which in its early part had been sunny, had passed into dulness. The evening was bleak and chill; and there was a quiet cloudiness over the city, which seemed to suit both our mood and the scene.