The Hill of Evil Counsel

Jerusalem, Saturday, Feb. 22. — A little after sunrise went out by the Jaffa gate, and, turning to the left, took the path that winds down the slope of Zion. As I went along, the pleasant sound of bees, “the wild bees of Palestine,” clustering over the pink blossoms of an almond tree on the left, greeted me, The tree itself, all flower, without a single leaf, was a gay contrast to the dark olives below. A few days ago it was brown and bare; to day it is all brightness; and to this sudden change God made reference, when, taking Jeremiah to one of the orchards of Anathoth he bade him look at the “rod of the almond-tree,” and added, “I will hasten my word to perform it,” (Jerem. i. 11, 12.)*

I crossed the small valley or hollow of Gihon, at the

* This seems also the reference in Ezek. vii. 10, “behold the day, behold it is come; the morning is gone forth; the rod hath blossomed j pride hath budded.” These gay blossoms of the almond-tree are like the pride of Judah, bursting forth and then shaken to the ground. pool, which, though tolerably deep, is quite dry. Going up the slope to the south, right opposite Zion, I took the path which winds round the hill, following the windings of Solomon’s aqueduct for about half an hour, into the valley on the other side. I then went up wha,t is named the “Hill of evil counsel,” or as it is sometimes named, J ebel Deir, the hill of the convent, as the valley below is called Wady er-Rahabi, the valley of the monks. Tradition says that here was the house of Caiaphas, where the chief priests met to take counsel “against the Lord and against his anointed, ‘Hard by is the legendary tree of Judas, under which I read that solemn Psalm, which may be called “Judas’s Psalm,” the cix., which, as I read it over, did not seem the utterance of personal vindictiveness, but the calm sentence of the judge, “depart ye cursed,” given us in detail.

Having walked about for some time among the ruins, I sat down on a fragment of the broken wall to mark the whole scene. A mist shut out the mountains of Moab, which form so striking a background to many of the views about Jerusalem, and which, like Serbal in the desert, or Jebel esh-Sheikh in the north, seem always watching you, yet with no unfriendly eye. But the Mount of Olives, with the village of Siloam beneath, stood out clearly; the irregular square houses looking almost as if cut out of the rock. A few olfves clothed the hill, but the numerous out-cropping lines of grey limestone gave a bald appearance to the slope. The road to Bethany creeping up the face of the hill was distinctly traceable. To the left was Zion, ploughed over in most parts up to the very walls, sprinkled with olives in others, and disfigured with white rubbish in others. All this was once built upon. Some of the finest houses or palaces in Jerusalem were there. May not many of their stones be still lying beneath these mounds of old debris?

Each part of the view called up old histories, some dark, some bright. All around Jerusalem, it is the same; and no amount of looking or visiting seems to exhaust the store. Turn where you will, a text, an event, a scene, a life, a death, is suggested by what you look upon. “The eye is not satisfied with seeing,” (Eccles. i. 8). Sitting here amid such memories you forget the present; you go back into the past or forward into the future. The Jew has no present; he lives in the past or the future; and the Christian sitting down amid the ruins of J erusalem, can well understand the feelings of the son of Abraham. J erusalem as it was, and J erusalem as it shall be; these are the two great objects of engrossment. The Jerusalem on which we now are looking, is but a shadow or a dream. But the morning is advancing, so I quit these ruins and descend, returning to the city by the way that I came.

There is no stir in or around the city, and in this respect one feels at once the difference between Jerusalem and Alexandria. Though the latter has not the bustle of London, or Liverpool, or Glasgow, still there is in it the quick motion of social and commercial life. It is not so in El-Kuds. Its day of crowd, and mirth, and vital energy is past; or rather has not yet come. These four soldiers, idling the hour away, on the steps of the old castle at the Jaffa gate; yon Moslem trio, finding their way down to the bazaar, with pipe in mouth; the Latin patriarch up yonder, on the flat roof of his dwelling, pacing to and fro to watch every goer out and comer in; — these are specimens of the city’s life and stir. Not that there is solitude either within or without. The bazaars have at all times their stream of buyers, though it flows slowly and heavily. At every hour from sunrise to sunset, save on Fridays from eleven to one, you meet with people moving out and in by the gates; — camels, horses, mules, donkeys, each with his peculiar load pass and repass. Go along the Bethlehem road, you meet with stragglers. Wander out at the Zion gate by the road which skirts Gihon, and crosses Moriah, and leads to Kefr Sel wan, you meet with fellahin, carrying vegetables, perhaps the enormous cauliflowers of Mount Zion.*

* Corn, cauliflowers, and lentiles of all kinds were growing on Mount Zion. The Apostle Peter, while he remained at Jerusalem, would get here materials for the meritorious broth which tradition says he fed upon, after his fall. “Morning after morning, cock-crowing after cock-crowing, St Peter wept his fall. Some lentile broth, of the daily value of a farthing, was for his whole life-long, the penitential food of him by whose hands God wrought special miracles; by whose shadow passing by he healed the sick; through whom He first admitted both J ews and Gentiles into the Church; to whom, first in dignity among the other apostles, He gave the keys of the kingdom of heaven.” — See “Kepentance from love of God life-long,” a Sermon by Dr Pusey, preached at Oxford on Thursday, April 2. 1857. The preacher, as well as his friends, the ecclesiastical fabulists, had forgotten that he “who is weak eateth herbs” (Rom. xiv. 2).

SPANISH JEWS.

Go up the road to Bethany you meet women with water-jars on their head. Still, though there is no solitude, there is the nearest approach to it that can be, in the midst of ten thousand people. There is silence at midnight, broken only by the voice of the muezzin or the marriage tom-toms; there is quiet at midday, for, save when, here and there, the war of Arab tongues begins, no hum or din, either far or near, frets the ear. Stillness and sluggishness are over all, and it is only at the different European Consulates that you get a glimpse of quicker life.

“What aileth thee now?
For thou art gone up, all of thee, to the housetops?
Thou that wert full of stirs,
A town of bustle,
A city of joy?” Isa. xxii. 1, 2.

A little after ten we set out to visit the synagogue of the Sephardim or Spanish Jews. Their language is an impure dialect of Spanish, though I suppose they know their old tongue, and also perhaps the tongue of El-Kuds, that is, Arabic; for Hebrew, Chaldee, Greek, Latin, Arabic, have all been in turn the language of Jerusalem. We were too late for the regular service; but in one of the recesses of the synagogue there sat a teacher expounding the law, or some part of it. This it seems is common. Some one, more learned or perhaps more talkative than the rest, acts as lecturer. Round him the people gather when the regular worship is over; both hearing and asking questions. He also goes about holding meetings in private houses; yet not for hire, but for love of the work. He was a man under forty, with a keen eye, an expressive face, and a vigorous tongue. He was lecturing on the Sabbath, expounding the law concerning it, and answering objections. We listened for a few minutes, and then walked through the empty synagogue to see its structure, which had nothing remarkable in any part of it. No architecture, no ornament, no painting, either within or without, and hardly any plan. A plain and somewhat shabby building, with nothing to attract, it seemed quite in keeping with the poverty of those who worshipped there. A modern poet, describing a Jewish synagogue, has spoken of the “latticed galleries, shining” and “dazzling his vision,” with glimpses of “Israel’s loveliest daughters, in their beauty half divine.” He may have been painting a scene in London or New York; but not in Jerusalem. Not that one desires to see a splendid synagogue in Jerusalem. It would be out of keeping with the people, and the land, and the city. It would speak less of old J ewish grandeur and of coming glory. At one end of it there was a press or “what-not,” into which were cast all manner of fragments of Hebrew Scriptures and prayer-books, all in rags, and covered with dust. No relics of manuscript rolls are there, as these are all buried, when worn out in the tomb of Jehoshaphat.

From this synagogue we passed to that of the Karaite Jews. Worship was over there, but we went into the

KARAITE JEWS.

house of the chief Rabbi, by name Rabbi Daud, who received us courteously and asked us to be seated. In a few minutes most of the Karaite community gathered round us. It numbers eight or nine families who dwell together in one large house. They were by far the best-looking Jews that we had seen; not thin and wan like most of their kindred here, but well favoured and pleasant in countenance, yet with an eye quite as keen and intelligent as the rest. They are the most accessible and least bigoted of the Jewish sects, rejecting Rabbinical tradition, and clinging to Scripture alone. It was only the Rabbi himself that spoke, the others, standing on all sides, eagerly listened. He spoke a peculiar kind of Spanish, and Mr Crawford acted as interpreter.

“Your nation is scattered, how is this f we asked.

“For our sins,” was the reply of the Rabbi.

“And how are these sins to be taken away?”

“By prayer and repentance,”

“But are you sure that God will accept your prayer and repentance V

“Yes, we believe that he will,”

“But is nothing more needed than these?”

“Nothing. These are enough.”

“But in the days of your fathers, something more was needed,” we rejoined.

“What was thai?”

“The blood of the sacrifices.”

“Yes, the blood was needed then.”

“But is it not needed now?” we asked.

“No. Prayer and repentance are enough,” said he.

“But God would not accept the prayers of your fathers without the blood, will he accept their children’s prayers without it?”

“Yes; God is very merciful.”

“True, God is very merciful; but he was so in the days of your fathers, yet he would not accept their prayers without the blood; do you think he has changed?”

“God is merciful,” was his reply.

“Surely, He is so; but if he would not accept the prayers of Moses or David without blood, will he receive yours?

He had no other answer but “the mercy of God,” so we could not press the point farther. It was clear, however, that he did feel there was something awanting. He had no sacrifice as his fathers had, and yet he had no substitute for it. The type was gone, for his temple was in the dust, and yet he had nothing in its room. He had neither casket nor gem; the former was buried* beneath the ruins of his temple, and the latter was in other hands than his.*

The Rabbi was far from being offended at our words, and shook us warmly by the hand, as we rose up from our divans to inspect the copy of the law made use of in the synagogue, which is in the under-part of the

* Chrysostom says finely in one of his discourses against the Jews, (l Wonderful and incredible! The Jew has the whole earth for his temple; but nowhere is it lawful for him to sacrifice. From Jerusalem alone he is shut out, where only it is lawful to sacrifice.”

KARAITE BIBLE.

house. It is small and dark, yet not dirty, and he shewed us gladly through every part of it. At one end of it, screened off by a curtain, in imitation of the Holy of Holies, the law is kept, carefully wrapt up. It is not a roll, but a large quarto volume of vellum, beautifully written and strongly bound. It is said to be 530 years old. We were allowed to handle it freely. As we were leaving, the whole community, young and old, male and female, gathered round us, bright and cheerful. We had to shake hands with all. They are a most interesting little community; without bigotry or prejudice or hatred of the Gentile; disliked by other Jews because holding fast the Old Testament and casting off Talmudical traditions.* Their ears are open to hear the good news concerning Him who “has come in the flesh,” and who “has put away sin by the sacrifice of Himself.”

Other instances were mentioned of willingness to hear on the part of Jews of other sects. A group of Jews standing at one of the city gates, had gathered round one of the converts, and made inquiries respecting the New Testament and Jesus of Nazareth, which shewed how ill-content the Jewish mind is with itself

* In the year 1835, all the Karaites had left Jerusalem for Constantinople. Since that they have returned. They are not numerous either here or elsewhere. They muster pretty strong in the Crimea and in one or two other parts. Some twenty-five years ago they had their synagogue in Jerusalem, in a small room underground, interpreting somewhat fancifully Psalm cxxx. 1, Out of the depths, 0 Jehovah, have I cried unto thee though the word depth “(emek) merely means a low place or valley. and its unbelief. But then the opposition of some is exceeding bitter, and shews itself both in private and in public. One of the missionaries entered a synagogue one day. A rabbi was preaching. The moment he saw the missionary enter, he stopped, and shouted at the height of his voice, “Shemah Israel,” &c, “Hear, O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is one” as if to turn every eye in scorn to one who could maintain that Jesus was the Son of God. This is the raltying-cry of the Jews. It is a watch-word worth a dozen of arguments to them.

In the afternoon we went out by the Zion-gate, and pursued our way to what is called the Valley of Hinnom. It is a continuation of Gihon, but deeper and more rocky. It is more like a ravine than a valley, but with olive-trees sprinkled over it. The south side is lined with rugged precipices, which form an irregular wall of considerable extent. Every three or four yards a black stripe goes up the rock evidently caused by smoke, as if so many fires had been kindled at or near the foot. They reminded us of the idolatrous fires in the days of Israel’s apostasy, when the children were made to pass through the fire to Moloch. “Manasseh caused his children to pass through the fire in the Valley of the Son of Hinnom,” (2 Chron. xxxiii. 6).

W e went next to the well of Nehemiah, as the Jews call it, or Bir Eyub as the natives name it. Here the two valleys of the Gihon and the Kedron may be said to meet, nearly a mile from the Zion-gate. The well is

BIR EYUB.

deep, and carefully built over. It supplies the neighbourhood with water for man and beast, as we saw by the drawers of water, and by the troughs for cattle that were beside the well. In the time of the heavy rains, when the Kedron pours in its sudden torrent, and other secret tributaries find their way into its depths, it overflows. Then Jerusalem rejoices and keeps holiday; men. women, and children, all in gala dress, come forth to celebrate the event. Such is the preciousness of water in these thirsty climes. Bir Eyub is the native name for it. When, or from whom it took this name is not known; but I suspect that it is a Mahommedan, not a Jewish nor Christian name, and that it goes back to the time of Salah ed-dm, Ibn Eyub, or the close of the twelfth century, when this mighty prince, of whom history and romance have so largely spoken, occupied the throne of J erusalem. Saladin was well known as a provider of fountains and khans, no less than as a soldier, and there is nothing unlikely in his giving his father’s name, the name of the great Eyubite family, to a well of Jerusalem. Very probably he found a well here, or at least a cistern, which he deepened and enlarged. But that the cistern which he thus improved was En-Rogel is very unlikely. A deep well or tank is not likely to be called En, a” fountain f and besides, Josephus tells us that En Rogel was in the midst of the king’s gardens, which are some two hundred yards nearer the city.

Just above us was the southern shoulder of the

THE KING? i GARDENS. mount of “corruption” or “ofTence” — “the hill that is BEFORE Jerusalem” ( Kings 1 xi. 7), where Solomon “built an high place for Chemosh, the abomination of Moab, and for Molech, the abomination of the children of Ammon.” Up on yon height stood “the high places that were BEFORE (east of) Jerusalem, which were on the right HAND of the mount of corruption” (2 Kings xxiii. 13), which Josiah defiled, breaking the images in pieces, cutting down the groves, and filling their places with the bones of men.

We next passed to “the King’s gardens,” a walk of some five minutes from Bir Eyub. These occupy the more level ground at the angle between the vallies, just below Siloam, — where the Tyropaeon opened out, or at least ended in the spacious and well-watered basin formed by the four hills of Zion, Ophel, Aceldama, and the Mount of Offence. The soil of these gardens seems rich, and the waters of Siloam spread over their different compartments, so that fruit-trees and vegetables flourish vigorously. The superior green of this spot strikes the eye at once, and you see that it owes this to its natural site, and not wholly to artificial cultivation. What it is to-day, it must have been for ages past, whether under Solomon or Saladin. The owners, or at least the cultivators, of these gardens are chiefly the inhabitants of the overhanging village, Kefr Silwan, the village of Siloam, which is only separated from them by the bed of the Kedron, which here for a little space, takes the form of a deep cleft or narrow

WATERED BY SILOAM.

gulley. This is the place mentioned by Nehemiah when he speaks of “the wall of the pool of Siloah by the Kings garden,” (Neh. iii. 15.) and by Josephus when he speaks of Adonijah feasting “by the fountain which is without the city, in the King’s paradise” or garden. Though the allusions in Canticles are perhaps more specially to the gardens of Etham near Bethlehem, yet they may quite as well point to the scene on which we are now looking. It is a “garden enclosed,” (iv. 12), and doubtless was once much more so; and here is the “spring shut up,” the “fountain sealed.” Here too is the “fountain of gardens,” the “well of living waters,” (iv. 15,) and “streams from Lebanon.” Here the “north wind” coming down the valley of the Kedron, and the south coming up Wadi-en-Nar, would blow upon the garden, making its spices to flow out, and its fragrance to go up over the city. Into this garden, lying in this sheltered hollow, the king would “go down” (vi. 2) “by the stairs which go down from the city of David” (Neh. iii. 15), which is not far off on yon height. These gardens drew their richness and verdure from Siloam, whose waters spread themselves over the small terraced levels which occupy the almost imperceptible slope which ends in the bed of the Kedron beneath.* Into

* The J ews say that the sewerage of the temple was brought to these gardens, and that this, together with the waters of Siloam, gave them their fruitfulness. “Rabbi Simeon saith, it (the blood) was poured on the west side (of the altar) and fell into an underground channel and conveyed into the valley of the Kedron and sold to gardeners to fatten their grounds.” — Ltghtfoofs Temple Service, ch. viii. 2, 4. Cramerus de Arat ch. iv. 3, p. 26. this bed the waters of the pool do not seem to find their way, as some old travellers affirm, but are lost in the intervening soil. And it is more pleasant to think of “Siloah’s brook” thus passing off, losing itself in giving vital sap to the olive, the fig, the pomegranate, the sycamore, or the lily; than helping to wash down the filth of the Kedron, or depositing itself amid the brine of the Sea of Sodom.

We now went up to the pool of Siloam itself, so often described both by pen and pencil that I need not try a sketch. It has been a well-built oblong tank, some fifty feet long, nearly twenty deep, and somewhat less than this wide.* Its crumbling walls, broken pillars, falling arches, wasted steps, and ruinous-looking aspect, give no idea of what it may have been in days when it was better cared for. On the one side I observed the fragments of six pillars, from which may have sprung five arches to form a porch or porches, not unlike what Bethesda must have been, (John v. 2). It was empty when we saw it.*f* Its supply is chiefly from an upper

* “Then came we eftsoone to the poole of Silo, where Mr Burrell and I washed ourselves; and hence we were shewn the place where the prophet Isaiah was sawn in pieces.” — Travailes of two English Pilgrims, (a.D. 1611), p. 15.

+ In Jewish days Siloaru had better supply than this, else Josephus would not have described it as “sweet and plentiful,” (yXvKsTav rz %al atoXXjjv; Jewish War, b. v. 4, 1), at present it is neither; nor was it so even in the days of the Crusaders. “Turbidae et lutulentae” are the epithets applied to its waters; and one mouthful could only be got, “duobuanummis et multo sanguine.” (De Waha, Labores Herculis Christiani Godfredi Bullionii, p. 421.) It is not unlikely that the overflowings of the

THE TUNNEL.

fountain, which finds its way into this lower one by a well-cut conduit, more than a quarter of a mile long. The tunnelling and boring of this passage must have been a work of great cost and toil; yet just such a work as eastern kings have spent a kingdom’s treasure to achieve; such a work as finds a place for itself above battles and conquests, in the annals of Solomon and Hezekiah and Saladin.

Josephus has called it “a fountain,” and Jerome, “fountains” but Scripture calls it a pool, nothing more. It is not a well (Mr), nor a pit (bor), nor a fountain (ayn), but a pool (berechah); a pool such as those of Solomon at Bethlehem, only on a smaller scale. And as these great pools were filled from a deeper and more secret source, so was this of Siloam, in part from that which is now called the Well of the Virgin, to which we are now to proceed, and into whose history we must inquire.*

temple wells, and of Solomon’s aqueduct, found their way into it, so that when these sources were stopped it was much diminished. The Jews affirm that Gihon and Siloam were the same, meaning, I suppose, that Gihon was the original source and Siloam the terminating pool, the waters passing down the Tyropseon, “the west side of the city of David,” (2 Chron. xxxii. 30), from the one place to the other, and so acquiring the name of sent. “Hezekiah stopped the upper water-course of Gihon, (literally, “the goings out of the waters of Gihon the higher,”) and brought them straight down (that is, sent them straight down) to the west side of the city of David.”

* The reference of Isaiah xii. 3, to Siloam and to the feast of the Tabernacles (John. vii. 37) is too beautiful to be passed by. I give it in Lightfoot’s words — “When the parts of the sacrifice were laid on the altar, then was there this pouring out of water upon the altar, but mingled with Climbing over part of the low ridge of Ophel, and ascending the valley of the Kedron a little way, we reached “the Fountain of the Virgin,” as it is called by the Franks, though by the natives it is named, I believe, Ayn Um ed-Deraj, the “Fountain of the Mother of Steps,” We drank of the water, and went a little way into the spacious cavern which forms the porch of this well. An Arab child, from the village of Siloam I suppose, was drawing water. We had no lights with

wine; and the manner thus ; — one of the priests, with a golden tankard, went to the fountain or Pool of Siloam and filled it there with water. He returned back again into the court through that which is called the water-gate; and when he came there the trumpets sounded. He goeth up the side of the altar where stood two basins, one with wine in it, and into the other he put the water; and he pours either the wine into the water or the water into the wine, and then he pours them out by way of libation. ... At the time of this libation did the music and the song begin; and that song, which they sung all the days of the feast, was Hallel; that being renewed daily as their lulabh or branches were renewed daily. When they came to the beginning of the 118th Psalm, ’ 0 give thanks unto the Lord, all the company shook their branches... Towards night they began ’ the rejoicing for the drawing of the water;’ which mirth they continued far in the night; and this their rejoicing was of so high a jollity, that they say that he that never saw the rejoicing for the drawing of water never saw rejoicing all his life.... Keraarkable is that passage in the Jerusalem Talmud upon this question; Rabbi Levi saith Why is the name of it called the drawing of water ] Because of the pouring out of the Holy Ghost, according to what is said, with j 03’ shall ye draw water out of the wells of salvation.’ “— Temple Service, p. 182-186. The Treatise Succah, in the Mishna, gives full particulars of the ceremony. The closing scene was a splendid illumination, in which four immense candelabra were chiefly remarkable. “The cast off breeches and belts of the priests were torn into shreds for wicks; there was not a court In Jerusalem that was not illuminated by the lights of the water-drawing.” — Chap. v. 3.

RISE AND FALL OF SILOAM.

us, else we might have ventured farther. The whole excavation, both the descent and the basin itself, seemed artificial. There must have been some original fissure or hollow out of which water gushed; and this was carefully improved. The natural well, which was probably the outlet to some interior spring, was enlarged, and a wide entrance hewn. In order to retain the waters and turn them to account, the subterraneous canal was hollowed out, by means of which they were brought down, or rather through, the ridge of Ophel to water the king’s gardens, which otherwise could not have existed. The w7aters could not have been conducted round the hill, save by a regular aqueduct, which would have been a much less enduring, while, perhaps, equally costly work. It is not easy to see what use such a canal could be to a besieged city. It was, no doubt, desirable that the pools should be within the wails; but of what advantage could it be to have a secret communication between them?

We did not see the sudden rise and fall of this fountain, or of its daughter Siloam, which have been so often described by travellers, ancient and recent. Like many intermittent springs, it probably owes its flows and ebbs to some natural syphon in the rocks through which it passes. That this natural peculiarity is ail that is indicated in the evangelist’s narrative of the angelic “troubling of the waters,” and that the inspired narrator was accommodating himself to a popular superstition, is an assumption as gratuitous as it is irreverent.* This peculiarity does not seem to be the same as that referred to by Jewish tradition, which affirms that Siloam ceased to flow on the Sabbath. So far as this tradition corresponds to fact, it merely shews that, as on the Sabbaths there was much more water needed for the temple service, so much more was arrested on its way through the conduits, and that thus very little would reach Siloam.

The great use of Siloam (besides helping to supply the neighbourhood) was, as we have said, the watering of that part of the base of Ophel and valley of Hinnom, which formed the king’s gardens. As Egypt owes everything to the Nile, so does Gehinnom owe everything to Siloam. Without it there would have been there no “paradise” of Solomon, nothing but a grey rocky slope. Dry up Siloam, and you turn this oasis into a desert, and rob J erusalem of one of its greenest, loveliest nooks. Five or six times, in different places, does Jerome speak of the valley of Hinnom being irrigated by Siloam, and mentions the pleasant groves and fruit-trees of which it was the parent. Hence the value set upon it, and hence the

* Dr Robinson suggests the above theory, (vol. iii. p. 249). He also asserts that our Lord himself countenanced such accommodations to popular prejudice in his parable of the rich man and Lazarus. The natural phenomenon of the sudden rise and fall of Siloam must have been well known in early days; for Chrysostom refers to it in one of his homiiies. “The apostle speaks of the desert-rock, that that rock was Christ; so Siloam had a spiritual character, — the sudden rise of its water being a silent figure of Christ’s unexpected manifestation in the flesh,” {Horn. 57, on John). The Greek word here is aQgoog, which seems to indicate the sudden rush of the water. The Latin translation gives repentinus.

SILOAH AND EUPHRATES.

meaning of the figure used by the prophet, “refusing the waters of Siloah.” Egypt made a god of the Nile; but Israel slighted Siloam; they “looked not to the maker thereof, neither had respect to him that fashioned it long ago,” (Isa. xxii. 11). And God uses this as the figure of their guilt in despising the predicted Son of David. Like the waters of Siloah, the promise of Messiah had long seemed to flow underground, and to be deferred in its coming up to view. Israel would have none of this. They would have a king at once, — a king like Syria’s or Samaria’s; they “refused the waters of Siloah that go softly,* and rejoiced in Rezin and Remaliah’s Son,” (Isa. viii. 6). And since they would not have this pleasant rivulet which so bountifully watered their valley, but despised it because it was not a mighty stream, “therefore, behold the Lord bringeth up upon them (literally over them, like a torrent) the waters of the river (Euphrates), strong and many, even the king of Assyria and all his glory; and he shall come UP OVER all his channels and go over all his banks; and he shall pass through Judah; he shall overflow and go over; he shall reach even to the neck, and the stretching out of his wings shall fill the breadth of thy land, O Immanuel,“” They despised the fertilizing waters of Siloam, and they were to have the desolating rush of the

* It might be rendered “secretly the reference being perhaps partly to the underground flow of the waters, not merely between the fountain of the Virgin and the pool, but down the Tyropaeon from Gihon, and also between the temple wells and the pool.

Euphratean torrent, covering the whole land, and sweeping off, not enriching the soil.

We then ascended the steps and passed onwards, crossing the Kedron by the bridge near the Latin garden of Gethsemane. Sitting down on the rock where the legend says that the disciples fell asleep, with the whole of what must have been the ancient garden full before us, or rather chiefly at our right hand, we read the Gethsemane hymn; “old and plain,” yet not the less suited on that account, to the venerable scene on which we were looking.

Jesus while he dwelt below,

As divine historians say,
To a place would often go;

Near to Kedron’s brook it lay.
In that place he loved to be,
And ’twas named Gethsemane.

The scene seemed to fill each line with new meaning; and the hymn is still rich with the memories of that spot and hour.*

Slowly we climbed the mount of Olives, and in less than a quarter of an hour reached Mr Graham’s house, which is a square tower, half way up the hill. We sat

* Mr Montgomery has reprinted, but greatly altered, this hymn in his “Christian Poet.” One of his stanzas goes thus, — “Gloomy garden, on thy beds Washed by Kedron’s water-pool.” The old author, who knew that the Kedron has no “water-pool,” and is made use of to carry off the filth of the city, wrote truer words, — ,( Gloomy garden, on thy beds Washed by Kedron’s waters foul,”

ROMANS AT GETHSEMANE,

first in the second-floor room, looking through the small square lattice upon the city which seemed to lie beneath us, sloping away upward from Kedron to the tower of David. Somewhere on the steep right below us, where these olives dot the grey hill, the tenth Roman legion had their camp; and here the J ews, sallying out upon them, fought so terribly, covering Gethsemane with Roman corpses, and drenching with the blood of war the soil where, forty years before, the great drops of blood had fallen from the Son of God.*

* Two legions encamped or, Scopus; the tenth, which had come up from Jericho, encamped on the mount of Olives. f< Orders were issued to encamp at the distance of six furlongs from J erusalem.. at (zara) the mount called the mount of Olives, which lies opposite to the city on the east, separated by the interposition of a deep valley (potayy, /Sas/a) which is called Kedron,” (Josephus, J. W., b. ii. 2. 3.) The J ews sallying out at one of the eastern gates, rushed across the Kedron, and drove the Romans up the hill. Titus, coming over from Scopus, a few furlongs off, rallied his troops and drove the Jews down Olivet. They suffered greatly on the declivity (is toj xardiiTSJ KoWa, TLaTLCaQivrsg); but no sooner had they got across, than, they faced about, and again attacked the Romans, till Titus had to withdraw his troops up the hill, and there fortify himself (sic rrtv azsw- £S/av). After a little, the Jews rushed forth again, — down across Gethsemane, and up Olivet. The Romans fled before the terrible onset, till Titus stood almost alone. With great difficulty rallying his routed legions, he fell upon the Jews who were pressing up the hill. Again the tide of war turned, and the Jews, fighting every inch, were driven down the slope of Olivet into Gethsemane. There they turned once more and fought; but again they were driven down to the hollow. Across the Kedron, however, the Romans did not venture. They kept their ground on the slope, and the Jews retired within the city. Such was the battle of Gethsemane, at the very commencement of the war which ended in the ruin of the city. Strange that the first terrible onset should have been in Gethsemane.

Somewhere here, also, the red heifer was burnt, according to the universal tradition of the Jews. In white robes, after a week’s preparation, the high priest performed this solemn rite.* Leading his victim from the temple by the east gate, across a wooden bridge constructed for the occasion over the Kedron, lest its feet should touch ground where a dead body might be buried, or anything unclean might lie, he brought it to Olivet, slew it, burnt it, gathered up its ashes, and carried them back to be deposited for after uses of purification.

As the sun got lower, slanting its rays till they came down almost parallel with the sloping city, the view grew more interesting. We went up to the flat housetop to see it on all sides. Down went the sun; not brilliantly, yet with sufficient brightness to light up the clouds, and bring out in relief upon the sky, the serrated battlements of the western wall, with the castle of David rising above the whole, and Mount Zion shewing itself as the crowning height of the city. Such a view of Jerusalem, and at such an hour, must the Lord have often had, when having finished his day’s teaching in the temple, he came out at yon eastern gate, crossed the Kedron where we did, and took perhaps this higher and less frequented road to Bethany, not far to our left, which steals upwards over the summit of the hill.

We sat upon the housetop for some time, marking the shadows coming over the hill behind us, and watching the city, now becoming featureless and indistinct.

* Braunius de Vestitu, p. 648.

TORCHLIGHT PROCESSION.

One by one the lights came out, twinkling here and there from its windows, till at length it became invisible in the gloom, and could only be known by the few stray lights which flitted here and there. Jerusalem had disappeared, and it was as if we heard the cry of the mourner, “How hath Jehovah covered the daughter of Zion with a cloud in his anger!” (Lam. ii. 1).

We then descended from the housetop, and had tea in the room below. Waiting till the moon should rise, we were looking out and making ready for a walk, when we saw lights outside the walls, near Nebi-Daud, moving downward. We went out to see what this could be. Slowly the lights advanced, turning the south-east angle of the city, and coming down the path that leads to the Kedron. As they descended the slope, they became most distinct, and we saw that it was a long procession, each man bearing a torch. We called to mind at once the band “with lantherns and torches,” headed by Judas; for down that very path they must have come, on their way to Gethsemane, seeking for Jesus. We watched their progress; but we kept asking ourselves, What is it, and where are they going? Is it a Latin pilgrimage to the garden of Gethsemane, — for they are now moving in that direction? They cross the Kedron; but they pass by Gethsemane. It can be no monkish procession. Up the hill they move, and amid the dark olives their torches are waving. Turning a little to the right, they take the way to the Jewish burying-ground, above the valley of Jehoshaphat. It must be a Jewish funeral! We consult Issa (the Arabic name for Jesus), Mr Graham’s Christian servant, and he remembers that a Jew had died the previous day. The Jews would not bury on Sabbath, and the body could not be kept another day. So? having got permission from the governor to leave the city at night, they are carrying their kinsman to the valley of Jehoshaphat, where all Jews desire to rest, and are laying him in the tombs of his fathers. How true to Jewish life seem these passages in the gospels which speak of the sick being brought to Jesus” when the sun was set/* (Mark i. 32; Luke iv. 40). They would not heal their sick, nor do even necessary work, till the Sabbath was over, preferring sacrifice to mercy, instead of mercy to sacrifice.

We set out in the moonlight across the rough slope of Olivet, and soon reached the spot. The procession had just halted, and the bier, somewhat like a large cradle, with a covering thrown over it, had been set down. Two or three men, in their ordinary dresses, were lifting out the body, which is wrapped head and foot in a white shroud, without a coffin. The grave has been dug only a few feet deep, under an olive, whose branches spread out above us, as we stood amid the company, and threw strange shadows on the ground, as the torches flitted about beneath them, and, mingling with the moonlight, glimmered through their foliage. There was no prayer, no service, and but little solemnity. The body was laid in the grave, and immediately large

GETHSEMANE BY MOONLIGHT.

stones were placed above it and wedged in firmly on all sides, as a protection from the prowling jackals.* The grave was then rilled up, and the twenty men and boys who formed the funeral procession prepared to return. We moved also, musing over the strange scene; a Jewish funeral by torchlight in the valley of Jehoshaphat!

Retracing our steps, we walked slowly down the steep, and soon found ourselves in Gethsemane, (some two or three hundred yards above the Latin garden) beneath some old olives, on which the cloudy moon was shining fitfully. We found one, not the largest perhaps, but one of many stems, and therefore the more likely to be the offspring of the very trees that stood here eighteen hundred years ago. On a knot of its projecting roots we sat down to fill ourselves with the scene and its memories. Gethsemane by moonlight! Gethsemane just at the time of passover, within a few days of the anniversary of the agony in the garden! We knelt and prayed together; then rising up we walked up the steep towards the city walk. On a tolerably spacious shelf of rock here, a considerable way up, some think Golgotha may have been. It is said in its general contour to be like a skull. It has a tomb cut in the rock, and a cistern which may have supplied a garden. The women may have stood “afar off beholding,” on the slope of Olivet, It would not be unsuitable to think of Gethsemane and Golgotha

* Is this the origin of cairns 1 Protection from beasts of prey ] Or is it to keep the dead in memory ] Or both? as almost adjoining. But I do not see any special reason for thinking this the spot. We stood for a little on this rocky shelf, looking up to the city battlements on the one side and to the Mount of Olives on the other, with the dark shades of Gethsemane between; then again crossing the Kedron we ascended the hill and returned to the tower, after having spent several hours in this moonlight walk. Opening our lattice, we looked out upon the sleeping city, where a few lights were still glimmering. About half-past eleven we went to bed, meaning to be up before sunrise. My chamber did not, like that of Peace in “the Interpreter’s house,” look towards the east. But it looked down on Gethsemane and Jerusalem; and I lay down close beside the window, intending that my first view as I awoke should be of these sacred spots. The lattice was not windtight, and there was no glass in its frame, so that it flapped occasionally as the breeze came up the hill. At home one might have thought of cold, and damp, and illness; but no thought of these crossed me here. The sifting wind did not feel unpleasant; the old walls did not seem damp nor cold. Who might have dwelt in this tower in past ages, — Jew, Roman, Crusader, Arab, I knew not; nor did I ask. I was lying down to sleep on the Mount of Olives, and I expected to awake in the morning, my first Sabbath here, with my eyes upon Jerusalem.