Chapter V: Description of Jerusalem (1)

Pilgrimages to the Holy Land; Arculfus; Willibald; Bernard; Effect of Crusades; William de Bouldessell; Bertrandon de la Broquiere; State of Damascus; Breidenbach; Baumgarten; Bartholemeo Georgewitz; Aldersey; Sandys; Doubdan; Cheron; Thevenot; Gonzales; Morison; Maundrell; Pococke; Road from Jaffa to Jerusalem; Plain of Sharon; Rama or Ramla; Condition of the Peasantry; Vale of Jeremiah; Jerusalem; Remark of Chateaubriand; Impressions of different Travellers; Dr. Clarke; Tasso; Volney; Henniker; Mosque of Omar described; Mysterious Stone; Church of Holy Sepulchre; Ceremonies of Good Friday; Easter; The Sacred Fire; Grounds for Skepticism; Folly of the Priests; Emotion upon entering the Holy Tomb; Description of Chateaubriand; Holy Places in the City; On Mount Zion; Pool of Siloam; Fountain of the Virgin; Valley of Jehoshaphat; Mount of Offence; The Tombs of Zechariah, of Jehoshaphat, and of Absalom; Jewish Architecture; Dr. Clarke's Opinion on the Topography of Ancient Jerusalem; Opposed by other Writers; The Inexpediency of such Discussions.

Having described, as fully as the plan of our undertaking will admit, the constitution, history, learning, and religion of the ancient Hebrews, we now proceed to give an account of the present condition of the country which they inhabited nearly 1500 years, interrupted only by short intervals of captivity or oppression. The connexion which Christianity acknowledges with the people and soil of Judea has, from the earliest times, given a deep interest to travels in the Holy Land. The curiosity natural to man in respect to things which have obtained celebrity, joined to the conviction, hardly leas natural, that there is a certain merit in enduring privation and fatigue for the sake of religion, has in every age induced pilgrims to visit the scenes where our Divine Faith was originally established, and to communicate to their contemporaries the result of their investigations. It is to be regretted, indeed, that some of them from ignorance, and others from a feeling of the weakest bigotry, have omitted to notice those very objects which are esteemed the most interesting to the general reader; thinking it their duty, as one of them expresses it, to "quench all spirit of vain curiosity, lest they should return without any benefit to their souls."

About the year 705, Jerusalem and its holy places were visited by Arculfus, from whose report Adamnan composed a narrative, which was received with considerable approbation. He describes the Temple on Mount Calvary with some minuteness, mentioning its twelve pillars and eight gates. But his attention was more particularly attracted by relics, those objects which all Jerusalem flocked to handle and to kiss with the greatest reverence. He saw the cup used at the last supper,--the sponge on which the vinegar was poured,--the lance which pierced the side of our Lord,--the cloth in which he was wrapped,--also another cloth woven by the Virgin Mary, whereon were represented the figures of the Saviour and of the Twelve Apostles.

Eighty years later, Willibald, a Saxon, undertook the same journey, influenced by similar motives. From his infancy he had been distinguished by a sage and pious disposition; and, on emerging from boyhood, he was seized with an anxious desire to "try the unknown ways of peregrination--to pass over the huge wastes of ocean to the ends of the earth." To this erratic propensity he owed all the fame which a place in the Romish calendar and the authorship of an indifferent book can confer. In Jerusalem he saw all that Arculfus saw, and nothing more; but he had previously visited the Tomb of the Seven Sleepers, and the cave in which St. John wrote the Apocalypse.

Bernard proceeded to Palestine in the year 878. He travelled first in Egypt, and from thence made his way across the Desert, the heat of which called vividly to his imagination the sloping hills of Campania when covered with snow. At Alexandria he was subjected to tribute by the avaricious governor, who paid no regard to the written orders of the sultan. The treatment which he received at Cairo was still more distressing. He was thrown into prison, and in this extremity he asked counsel of God; whereupon it was miraculously revealed to him, that thirteen denari, such as he had presented to the other Mussulman, would produce here an equally favourable result. The celestial origin of this advice was proved by its complete success. The pilgrim was not only liberated, but obtained letters from the propitiated ruler which saved him from all farther exaction.

The Crusades threw open the holy places to the eyes of all Europe; and accordingly, so long as a Christian king swayed the sceptre in the capital of Judea, the merit of individual pilgrimage was greatly diminished. But no sooner had the warlike Saracens recovered possession of Jerusalem than the wonted difficulty and danger returned; and, as might be expected, the interest attached to the sacred buildings, which the "infidel dogs" were no longer worthy to behold, revived in greater vigour than formerly. In 1331, William de Bouldesell adventured on an expedition into Arabia and Palestine, of which some account has been published. In the monastery of St. Catharine, at the base of Mount Sinai, he was hospitably received by the monks, who showed him the bones of their patron reposing in a tomb, which, however, they appear not to have treated with much respect. By means of hard beating, we are told, they brought out from these remains of mortality a small portion of blood, which they presented to the pilgrim as a gift of singular value. A circumstance which particularly astonished him would probably have produced no surprise in a less believing mind; the blood, it seems, "had not the appearance of real blood, but rather of some thick oily substance;" nevertheless, the miracle was regarded by him as one of the greatest that had ever been witnessed in this world.

A hundred years afterward Bertrandon de la Broquiere sailed from Venice to Jaffa, where, according to the statistics of contrite pilgrims, the "pardons of the Holy Land begin." At Jerusalem he found the Christians reduced to a state of the most cruel thraldom. Such of them as engaged in trade were locked up in their shops every night by the Saracens, who opened the doors in the morning at such an hour as seemed to them most proper or convenient. At Damascus they were treated with equal severity. The first two persons whom he met in this city knocked him down,--an injury which he dared not resent for fear of immediately losing his life. About thirty years before the period of his visit, the destroying arms of Timur had laid a large portion of the Syrian capital in ruins, though the population had again increased to nearly one hundred thousand. During his stay he witnessed the arrival of a caravan consisting of more than three thousand camels. Its entry employed two days and two nights; the Koran wrapped in silk being carried in front on the back of a camel richly adorned with the same costly material. This part of the procession was surrounded by a number of persons brandishing naked swords, and playing on all sorts of musical instruments. The governor, with all the inhabitants, went out to meet the holy cavalcade, and to do homage to the sacred ensign, which at once proclaimed their faith, and announced the object of the pious mission thus successfully concluded. Broquiere found the greatest respect paid to every one who had performed the pilgrimage to Mecca, and was gravely assured by an eminent Moulah, that no such person could ever incur the hazard of everlasting damnation.

We merely mention the names of Breidenbach of Mentz, and of Martin Baumgarten, who in the beginning of the sixteenth century achieved a journey into the Holy Land. The latter of these, while passing through Egypt, was most barbarously treated by the Saracen boys, who pelted him with dirt, brickbats, stones, and rotten fruit. At Hebron he was shown the field "were it is said, or at least guessed, that Adam was made;" but the reddish earth of which it is composed is now used in the manufacture of prayer-beads.

The work of Bartholemeo Georgewitz, who travelled in the same century, gives a melancholy account of the miseries endured by such Christians as were carried into slavery by the Turks in those evil days. The armies of that nation were followed by slave-dealers supplied with chains, by means of which fifty or sixty were bound in a row together, leaving only two feet between to enable them to walk. The hands were manacled during the day, and at night the feet also. The sufferings inflicted upon men of rank, and those belonging to the learned professions, were almost beyond description; extending not only to the lowest labours of the field, but even to the work of oxen, being sometimes yoked like these animals in the plough. Owing to the great rivers and arms of the sea, it was extremely difficult for those who were sent into Asia to effect their escape; whence, in many cases, the horrors of captivity had no other limits than those of the natural life. No wonder that Bartholemeo recommends to every one visiting those parts to make his will, "like one going not to the earthly, but to the heavenly Jerusalem."

Laurence Aldersey, who set out from London in 1581, was the first Protestant who encountered the perils of a voyage to Syria. In the Levant a Turkish galley hove in sight, and caused great alarm. The master, "being a wise fellow, began to devise how to escape the danger; but, while both he and all of us were in our dumps, God sent us a merrie gale of wind." As they approached Candia a violent storm came on, and the mariners began to reproach the Englishman as the cause, "and saide I was no good Christian, and wished I were in the middest of the sea, saying that they and the shippe were the worse for me." He replied, "I think myself the worst creature in the worlde, and do you consider yourselves also." These remonstrances were followed by a long sermon, the tenor of which was, "that they were not all good Christians, else it were not possible for them to have such weather." A gentleman on board informed Aldersey, that the suspicions respecting him originated in his refusal to join in the prayers to the Virgin Mary,--a charge which he parried by remarking that "they who praied to so many goe a wrong way to worke." The friars, resolving to bring the matter to an issue, sent round the image of Our Lady to kiss. On its approach the good Protestant endeavoured to avoid it by going another way; but the bearer "fetched his course about," and presented it. The proffered salutation being then positively rejected, the affair might have become serious, had not two of the more respectable monks interceded in his behalf, and enforced a more charitable procedure.

Of the people of Cyprus he remarks, that they "be very rude, and like beasts, and no better: they eat their meat sitting upon the ground, with their legs acrosse like tailors." On the 8th of August they arrived at Joppa, but did not till the next day receive permission to land from the great pasha, "who sate upon a hill to see us sent away." Aldersey had mounted before the rest, which greatly displeased his highness, who sent a servant to pull him from the saddle and beat him; "whereupon I made a long legge, saying, Grand mercye, seignor." This timely submission seems to have secured forgiveness; and accordingly, "being horsed upon little asses," they commenced their journey towards Jerusalem. Rama he describes as so "ruinated, that he took it to be rather a heape of stones than a towne;" finding no house to receive them but such a one as they were compelled to enter by creeping on their knees. The party were exposed to the usual violence and extortion of the Arabs; "they that should have rescued us stood still, and durst doe nothing, which was to our cost." On reaching the holy city they knelt down and gave thanks; after which they were obliged to enter the gate on foot, no Christian at that period being allowed to appear within the walls mounted. The superior of the convent received the pilgrims courteously into his humble establishment, where Aldersey tells us, "they were dieted of free cost, and fared reasonable well."[70]

The beginning of the seventeenth century witnessed a higher order of travellers, who, from such a mixture of motives as might actuate either a pilgrim or an antiquary, undertook the perilous tour of the Holy Land. Among these, one of the most distinguished was George Sandys, who commenced his peregrinations in the year 1610. He was succeeded by Doubdan, Cheron, Thevenot, Gonzales, Morison, Maundrell, and Pococke, all of whom have contributed many valuable materials towards a complete knowledge of the localities, government, and actual condition of modern Palestine. In our own days the number of works on these important subjects has increased greatly, presenting to the historian of the Turkish provinces in Asia a nearer and more minute view of society than could be obtained by the earlier travellers, who, instead of yielding to the characteristic bigotry of Moslem, usually opposed to it a prejudice not less determined and uncharitable. We must not hazard a catalogue of the enterprising authors to whom the European public are indebted for the information: now enjoyed by every class of readers, in regard to the most interesting of all ancient kingdoms,--the country inhabited by Israel and Judah. In the description which we are about to give of the principal towns, the buildings, the antiquities, the manners, the opinions, and the religious forms which meet the observation of the intelligent tourist in the Land of Canaan, we shall select the most striking facts from writers of all nations and sects, making no distinction but such as shall be dictated by a respect for the learning, the candour, and the opportunities which are recorded in their several volumes.

Palestine is usually approached, either from the sea at the port of Jaffa (the ancient Joppa), or from Egypt, by way of the intervening desert. In both cases, the principal object is to obtain a safe and easy route to the capital, which, even at the present hour, cannot be reached without much danger, unless under the special protection of the native authorities. The power of Mohammed Ali, it is true, extends almost to the very walls of Gaza; and wherever his government is acknowledged no violence can be committed with impunity on European travellers. But the Syrian pashas, equally deficient in inclination and vigour, still permit the grossest extortion, and sometimes connive at the most savage atrocities. Besides, there is a class of lawless Arabs who scour the borders of the wilderness, holding at defiance all the restrictions which a civilized people impose or respect. Sir Frederick Henniker, who followed the unwonted track which leads from Mount Sinai to the southern shore of the Dead Sea, narrowly escaped with his life, after having been severely wounded and repeatedly robbed by one of the most savage hordes of Bedouins.

The history of the crusades will draw our attention to Jaffa more minutely than would be suitable at the present stage of our narrative; we shall therefore proceed on the usual route to Jerusalem, collecting as we go along such notices as may prove interesting to the reader. At a short distance from this celebrated port the pilgrim enters the plain of Sharon, celebrated in Scripture for its beautiful roses. The monk Neret informs us, that in his time it was covered with tulips, the variety of whose colours formed a lovely parterre. At present, the eye of the traveller is delighted with a profusion of roses white and red, the narcissus, the white and orange lily, the carnation, and a highly-fragrant species of everlasting-flower. This plain stretches along the coast from Gaza in the south to Mount Carmel on the north, being bounded towards the east by the hills of Judea and Samaria. The whole of it is not upon the same level; it consists of four platforms separated from each other by a wall of naked stones. The soil is composed of a very fine sand, which, though mixed with ravel, appears extremely fertile; but owing to the desolating spirit of Mohammedan despotism, nothing is seen in some of the richest fields except thistles and withered grass. Here and there, indeed, are scanty plantations of cotton, with a few patches of doura, barley, and wheat. The villages, which are commonly surrounded with olive-trees and sycamores, are for the most part in ruins; exhibiting a melancholy proof that under a bad government even the bounty of Heaven ceases to be a blessing.

The path by which the billy barrier is penetrated is difficult, and in some places dangerous. But before you reach it, turning towards the east, you perceive Rama, or Ramla, the ancient Arimathea, distinguished by its charming situation, and well known as the residence of a Christian community. The convent, it is true, had been plundered five years before it was visited by Chateaubriand; and it was not without the most urgent solicitation that the friars were permitted to repair their building, as if it were a maxim among the Turks, who by their domination continue to afflict and disgrace the finest parts of Palestine, that the progress of ruin and decay should never be arrested. Volney tells us, that when he was at Ramla a commander resided there in a serai, the walls and floors of which were on the point of tumbling down. He asked one of the inferior officers why his master did not at least pay some attention to his own apartment. The reply was, "If another shall obtain his place next year, who will repay the expense?"

In those days the aga maintained about one hundred horsemen and as many African soldiers, who were lodged in an old Christian church, the nave of which was converted into a stable, as also in an ancient khan, which was disputed with them by the scorpions. The adjacent country is planted with lofty olives, the greatest part of which are as large as the walnut-trees of France, though they are daily perishing through age and the ravages of contending factions. When a peasant is disposed to take revenge on his enemy, he goes by night and outs his trees close to the ground, when the wound, which he carefully covers from the sight, drains off the sap like an issue. Amid these plantations are seen at every step dry wells, cisterns fallen in, and immense vaulted reservoirs, which prove that in ancient times this town must have been upwards of four miles in circumference. At present it does not contain more than a hundred miserable families. The houses are only so many huts, sometimes detached, and sometimes ranged in the form of cells round a court, enclosed by a mud wall. In winter, the inhabitants and their cattle may be said to live together; the part of the building allotted to themselves being raised only two feet above that in which they lodge their beasts. The peasants are by this means kept warm without burning wood,--a species of economy indispensable in a country absolutely destitute of fuel. As to the fire necessary for culinary purposes, they make it, as was the practice in the days of Ezekiel the prophet, of dung kneaded into cakes, which they dry in the sun, exposing them to its rays on the walls of their huts. In summer, their lodging is more airy; but all their furniture consists of a single mat and a pitcher for carrying water. The immediate neighborhood of the village is sown at the proper season with grain and watermelons; all the rest is a desert, and abandoned to the Bedouin Arabs, who feed their flocks on it. There are frequent remains of towers, dungeons, and even of castles with ramparts and ditches, in some of which are a few Barbary soldiers with nothing but a shirt and a musket. These ruins, however, are more commonly inhabited by owls, jackals, and scorpions.[71]

The only remarkable antiquity at Ramla is the minaret of a decayed mosque, which, by an Arabic inscription, appears to have been built by the Sultan of Egypt. From the summit, which is very lofty, the eye follows the whole chain of mountains, beginning at Nablous, and skirting the extremity of the plain till it loses itself in the south.

A ride of two hours brings the traveller to the verge of the mountains, where the road opens through a rugged ravine, and is formed in the dry channel of a torrent. A scene of marked solitude and desolation surrounds his steps as he pursues his journey in what is so simply described in the gospel as the "hill country of Judea." He finds himself amid a labyrinth of mountains, of a conical figure, all nearly alike, and connected with each other at their base. A naked rock presents strata or beds resembling the seats of a Roman amphitheatre, or the walls which support the vineyards in the valleys of Savoy. Every recess is filled with dwarf oaks, box, and rose-laurels. From the bottom of the ravines olive-trees rear their heads, sometimes forming continuous woods on the sides of the hills. On reaching the most elevated summit of this chain, he looks down towards the south-west on the beautiful valley of Sharon, bounded by the Great Sea; before him opens the Vale of St. Jeremiah; and in the same direction, on the top of a rock, appears in the distance an ancient fortress called the Castle of the Maccabees. It is conjectured that the author of the Lamentations came into the world in the village which has retained his name amid these mountains; so much is certain, at least, that the melancholy of this desolate scene appears to pervade the compositions of the prophet of sorrows.

The unvarying manners of the East exhibit to the view of the stranger, at the present day, the same picture of rural innocence and simplicity which might have met the eye of the mother of the Redeemer when she came into this pastoral country to salute her cousin Elizabeth. Herds of goats, with pendent ears, sheep with large tails, and asses which remind you, by their beauty, of the onagra of Scripture, issue from the villages at the dawn of day. Arab women are seen bringing grapes to dry in the vineyards; others with their faces veiled, carrying pitchers of water on their heads, like the daughters of Midian.

From the Valley of Jeremiah the traveller towards Zion descends into that which bears the name of Turpentine, and is deeper and narrower than the other. Here are observed some vineyards, and a few patches of doura. He next arrives at the brook where the youthful David picked up the five smooth stones, with one of which he slew the gigantic Goliath. Having crossed the stream, he perceives the village of Heriet-Lefta on the bank of another dry channel, which resembles a dusty road. El Bir_ appears in the distance on the summit of a lofty hill on the way to Nablous, the Shechem of the Israelites and the Neapolis of the Herods. He now pursues his course through a desert, where wild fig-trees thinly scattered wave their embrowned leaves in the southern breeze. The ground, which had hitherto exhibited some verdure, becomes altogether bare; the sides of the mountains, expanding themselves, assume at once an appearance of greater grandeur and sterility. Presently all vegetation ceases; even the very mosses disappear. The confused amphitheatre of the mountains is tinged with a red and vivid colour. In this dreary region he keeps ascending a whole hour to gain an elevated hill which he sees before him; after which he proceeds during an equal space across a naked plain strewed with loose stones. All at once, at the extremity of this plain, he perceives a line of Gothic walls flanked with square towers, and the tops of a few buildings peeping above them;--he beholds Jerusalem, once the joy of the whole earth!

"I can now account," says M. Chateaubriand, "for the surprise expressed by the crusaders and pilgrims at the first sight of Jerusalem, according to the reports of historians and travellers. I can affirm that whoever has, like me, had the patience to read nearly two hundred modern accounts of the Holy Land; the Rabbinical compilations, and the passages in the ancient writers respecting Judea, still knows nothing at all about it. I paused with my eyes fixed on Jerusalem, measuring the height of its walls, reviewing at once all the recollections of history from the patriarch Abraham to Godfrey of Bouillon, reflecting on the total change accomplished to the world by the mission of the Son of Man, and in vain seeking that Temple, not one stone of which is left upon another. Were I to live a thousand years, never should I forget that desert, which yet seems to be pervaded by the greatness of Jehovah and the terrors of death."[72]

On this occasion a camp of Turkish horse, with all the accompaniments of oriental pomp, was pitched under the walls. The tents in general were covered with black lambskins, while those belonging to persons of distinction were formed of striped cloth. The horses, saddled and bridled, were fastened to stakes. There were four pieces of horse-artillery, well mounted on carriages, which appeared to be of English manufacture. These fierce soldiers are stationed near the capital, as well for the purpose of checking the savage Bedouins, who acknowledge no master, as for enforcing the tribute demanded from all strangers who enter the holy city. The recollections of the Mussulman, no less than those of the Christian, inspire a reverential feeling for the town in which David dwelt; and hence, although the European pilgrim be oppressed by the present laws of Palestine, his motives are usually respected, and even praised.

The reader who has perused with attention some of the more recent works on Palestine must have been struck with the diversity, and even the apparent contradiction, which prevail in their descriptions of Jerusalem. According to one, the magnificence of its buildings rivals the most splendid edifices of modern times, while another could perceive nothing but filth and ruins, surmounted by a gaudy mosque and a few glittering minarets. The greater number, it must be acknowledged, have drawn from their own imagination the tints in which they have been pleased to exhibit the metropolis of Judea; trusting more to the impressions conveyed by the brilliant delineations of poetry, than to a minute inspection of what they might have seen with their own eyes.

Dr. Clarke, for example, has allowed his pen to be guided by the ardent muse of Tasso, rather than by the cool observation of an unbiassed traveller. "No sensation of fatigue or heat," says he, "could counterbalance the eagerness and zeal which animated all our party in the approach to Jerusalem; every individual pressed forward, hoping first to announce the joyful intelligence of its appearance. We passed some insignificant ruins, either of ancient buildings or of modern villages; but had they been of more importance they would have excited little notice at the time, so earnestly bent was every mind towards the main object of interest and curiosity. At length, after about two hours had been passed in this state of anxiety and suspense, ascending a hill towards the south--Hagiopolis! exclaimed a Greek in the van of our cavalcade; and, instantly throwing himself from his horse, was seen upon his knees, bare-headed, facing the prospect he surveyed. Suddenly the sight burst upon us all. The effect produced was that of total silence throughout the whole company. Many of our party, by an immediate impulse, took off their hats as if entering a church, without being sensible of so doing. The Greeks and Catholics shed torrents of tears; and, presently beginning to cross themselves with unfeigned devotion, asked if they might be permitted to take off the covering from their feet, and proceed, barefooted to the Holy Sepulchre. We had not been prepared for the grandeur of the spectacle which the city alone exhibited. Instead of a wretched and ruined town, by some described as the desolated remnant of Jerusalem, we beheld, as it were, a flourishing and stately metropolis, presenting a magnificent assemblage of domes, towers, palaces, churches, and monasteries; all of which, glittering in the sun's rays, shone with inconceivable splendour. As we drew nearer, our whole attention was engrossed by its noble and interesting appearance."[73]

The effect produced upon the Christian army when they obtained the first view of the holy city is beautifully described by the Italian poet, thereby supplying, it may be suspected, the model which has been so faithfully copied by the English tourist. We avail ourselves of the translation of Hoole.

"Now from the golden East the zephyrs borne,
Proclaimed with balmy gales the approach of morn;
And fair Aurora decked her radiant head
With roses cropp'd from Eden's flowery bed;
When from the sounding camp was heard afar
The noise of troops preparing for the war:
To this succeed the trumpet's loud alarms,
And rouse, with shriller notes, the host to arms.

"With holy zeal their swelling hearts abound,
And their wing'd footsteps scarcely print the ground.
When now the sun ascends the ethereal way,
And strikes the dusty field with warmer ray;
Behold, Jerusalem in prospect lies!
Behold, Jerusalem salutes their eyes!
At once a thousand tongues repeat the name,
And hail Jerusalem with loud acclaim!

"At first, transported with the pleasing sight,
Each Christian bosom glowed with full delight;
But deep contrition soon their joy suppressed,
And holy sorrow saddened every breast;
Scarce dare their eyes the city walls survey,
Where clothed in flesh their dear Redeemer lay,
Whose sacred earth did once their Lord enclose,
And when triumphant from the grave he rose!

"Each faltering tongue imperfect speech supplies;
Each labouring bosom heaves with frequent sighs.
Each took the example as their chieftains led,
With naked feet the hallowed soil they tread.
Each throws his martial ornaments aside,
The crested helmets with their plumy pride;
To humble thoughts their lofty hearts they bend,
And down their cheeks the pious tears descend."[74]

No city assuredly presents a more striking example of the vicissitude of human affairs than the capital of the Jews. When we behold its walls levelled, its ditches filled up, and all its buildings embarrassed with ruins, we scarcely can believe we view that celebrated metropolis which formerly withstood the efforts of the most powerful empires, and for a time resisted the arms of Rome itself; though, by a whimsical change of fortune, its mouldering edifices now receive her homage and reverence. "In a word," says Volney, "we with difficulty recognize Jerusalem." Still more are we astonished at its ancient greatness, when we consider its situation, amid a rugged soil, destitute of water, and surrounded by the dry channels of torrents and steep hills. Remote from every great road, it seems not to have been calculated either for a considerable mart of commerce, or for the centre of a great consumption. It overcame, however, every obstacle, and may be adduced as a proof of what patriotism and religion may effect in the hands of a good government, or when favoured by happy circumstances from without. The same principles, in some degree modified, still preserve to this city its feeble existence. The renown of its miracles, perpetuated in the East, invites and retains a considerable number of inhabitants within its walls.[75]

As a contrast to the description of Dr. Clarke, the reader may not be displeased to peruse the notes of Sir Frederick Henniker on the same subject:--"Jerusalem is called, even by the Mohammedans, the Blessed City,--the streets of it are narrow and deserted,--the houses dirty and ragged,--the shops few and forsaken,--and throughout the whole there is not one symptom of either commerce, comfort, or happiness. Is this the city that men call the Perfection of Beauty, the Joy of the whole Earth?--The town, which appears to me not worth possession, even without the trouble of conquest, is walled entirely round, is about a mile in length and half a mile in width, so that its circumference may be estimated at three miles. In three quarters of an hour I performed the circuit. It would be difficult to conceive how it could ever have been larger than it now is; for, independent of the ravines, the four outsides of the city are marked by the brook of Siloam, by a burial-plate at either end, and by the Hill of Calvary; and the Hill of Calvary is now within the town, so that it was formerly smaller than it is at present. The best view of it is from the Mount of Olives; it commands the exact shape, and nearly every particular, namely, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the Armenian Convent, the Mosque of Omar, St. Stephen's Gate, the round-topped houses, and the barren vacancies of the city. The Mosque of Omar is the St. Peter's of Turkey. The building itself has a light, pagoda appearance; the garden in which it stands occupies a considerable part of the city, and contrasted with the surrounding desert is beautiful; but it is forbidden ground, and Jew or Christian entering within its precincts must, if discovered, forfeit either his religion or his life."[76]

The observation made by Sir Frederick, in regard to the difficulty and danger of entering the Mosque of Omar, has been verified on more than one occasion. But the obstacles, apparently insurmountable, were overcome by Dr. Richardson, who, in return for the successful exercise of his professional skill, was rewarded by a clandestine visit to the shrine of the Mussulman saint. It will appear, from the few details which we are about to select from his volume, that the veil of mystery does not conceal anything really worth seeing. Like Pompey in the Temple, the Christian visiter, whose presence, in like manner, profanes the holy place, feels no other surprise than is occasioned by the fact, that men have agreed to excite curiosity by prohibiting an imaginary gratification.

"On our arrival at the door, a gentle knock brought up the sacristan, who, apprized of our intention, was within waiting to receive us. He demanded, rather sternly, who we were, and was answered by my black conductor in tones no less consequential than his own. The door immediately edged up, to prevent as much as possible the light from shining out, and we squeezed ourselves in with a gentle and noiseless step, although there was no person near who could be alarmed by the loudest sound of our bare feet upon the marble floor. The door was no sooner shut than the sacristan, taking a couple of candles in his hand, showed us all over the interior of the building, pointing, in the pride of his heart, to the elegant marble walls, the beautifully-gilded ceiling, the well where the true worshippers drink and wash,--with which we also blessed our palates and moistened our beards,--the paltry reading-desk with the ancient Koran, the handsome columns, and the green stone with the wonderful nails. As soon as we had completed this circuit, pulling a key from his girdle, he unlocked the door of the railing that separates the outer from the inner part of the mosque, which, with an elevation of two or three steps, let us into the sacred recess. Here he pointed out the patches of mosaic in the floor, the round flat stone which the Prophet carried on his arm in battle, directed us to introduce our hand through the hole in the wooden box, to feel the print of the Prophet's foot, and, through the posts of the wooden rail, to feel as well as to see the marks of the angel Gabriel's fingers (into which I carefully put my own) in the sacred stone that occupies the centre of the mosque, and from which it derives the name of Sakhara or Locked-up, and over which is suspended a fine cloth of green and red satin. It was so covered with dust that, but for the information of my guide, I should not have been able to tell the composing colours. Finally, he pointed to the door that leads into the small cavern below, of which he had not the key.

"I looked up to the interior of the dome; but, there being few lamps burning, the light was not sufficient to show me any of its beauty farther than a general glance. The columns and curiosities were counted over again and again, the arches were specially examined and enumerated, to be sure that I had not missed nor forgotten any of them. Writing would have been an ungracious behaviour, calculated to excite a thousand suspicions, that next day would have gone to swell the current of the city gossip, to the prejudice both of myself and of my friend. Having examined the adytum, we once more touched the footstep of the Prophet and the finger-prints of the angel Gabriel, and descended the steps, over which the door was immediately secured."[77]

Dr. Richardson was afterward permitted to visit this splendid mosque during the day, when he found that the dimensions of the enclosure in which it stands is about fifteen hundred feet in length, and a thousand in breadth. In the sacred retirement of this charming spot, the followers of the Prophet delight to saunter, or repose, as in the elysium of their devotions; and, arrayed in the gorgeous costume of the East, add much to the interest, the beauty, and solemn stillness of the scene, from which they seem loath to retire. The Sakhara itself is a regular octagon of about sixty feet a side, and is entered by four spacious doors, each of which is adorned with a porch projecting from the line of the building and rising considerably on the wall. All the sides of it are paneled. The centre stone of one panel is square, of another it is octagonal, and thus they alternate all round; the sides of each running down the angles like a plain pilaster, and giving an appearance as if the whole were set in a frame. The marble is white, with a considerable tinge of blue; square pieces of the latter colour being introduced in different places, so as to confer upon the exterior a very pleasing effect. The upper story is faced with small tiles painted of different colours, white, yellow, green, and blue; some of them are also covered with sentences from the Koran. At this height there are seven elegant windows on each side, except where the porches interfere, and then there are only six; the general appearance of the edifice being extremely light and beautiful, more especially from the mixture of the soft colours above and the delicate tints of the marble in the main body of the structure.

The interior fully corresponds to the magnificence and beauty just described. There are twenty-four marble columns, placed parallel to the eight sides of the building, three opposite to each side, so as still to preserve the octagonal form. Eight of them are large plain pillars belonging to no particular order of architecture, and all standing opposite to the eight entering angles of the edifice, and deeply indented on the inner side; so that they furnish an acute termination to the octagonal lines within. Between every two of the square columns there are two of a round figure, well proportioned, and resting on a base. They are from eighteen to twenty feet high, with a sort of Corinthian capital. A large square plinth of marble extends from the top of the one column to the other, and above it there is constructed a number of arches all round, which support the inner end of the roof or ceiling, the outer end resting upon the walls of the building. This is composed of wood, or plaster, highly ornamented with a species of carving, and richly gilt.

But this gorgeous temple owes both its name and existence to a large irregular mass of stone, having an oblong shape, which still occupies the centre of the mosque. It is a portion of the calcareous rock on which the city is built, and which prevails in the other mountains in the neighbourhood of Jerusalem, having very much the appearance of being a part of the bed that might have been left when the foundation of the building was levelled. It rises highest towards the south-west corner, and falls abruptly at the end, where are the prints of the Prophet's foot. It is irregular on the upper surface, the same as when it was broken from the quarry. It is enclosed all round with a wooden rail about four feet high, and which in every place is nearly in contact with the stone. We have already mentioned that there is a cover or canopy of variously-coloured silk suspended over it; and nothing, we are assured can be held in higher veneration than the Hadjr-el-sakhara, the Locked-up Stone.[78]

But this fragment of limestone has more weighty pretensions to the veneration of the Moslem than the mere print of the angel Gabriel's fingers or of the Prophet's foot; for, like the Palladium of ancient Troy, it is said to have fallen from heaven on this very spot, at the time when prophecy commenced in Jerusalem. It was employed as a seat by the venerable men to whom that gift was communicated; and, as long as the spirit of vaticination continued to enlighten their minds, the slab remained steady for their accommodation. But no sooner was the power of prophecy withdrawn, and the persecuted seers compelled to flee for safety to other lands, than the stone is declared to have manifested the profoundest sympathy in their fate, and even to have resolved to accompany them in their flight. On this occasion Gabriel the archangel interposed his authority, and prevented the departure of the prophetical chair. He grasped it with his mighty hand, and nailed it to its rocky bed till the arrival of Mohammed, who, horsed on the lightning's wing, flew thither from Mecca, joined the society of seventy thousand ministering spirits, and, having offered up his devotions to the throne of God, fixed the stone immovably in this holy site, around which the Caliph Omar erected his magnificent mosque.

Within the same enclosure there is another house of prayer called El Aksa, which, though a fine building, is greatly inferior to El Sakhara. Between the two there is a beautiful fountain, which takes its name from a clump of orange-trees overshadowing its water. The mosque is composed of seven naves supported by pillars and columns, and at the head of the centre nave is a fine cupola. Two others branch off at right angles to the principal body of the edifice. Before it is a portico of seven arches in front and one in depth, supported by square pillars. Ali Bey, who in his character of Mussulman was permitted to examine the holy fane at leisure, describes the great central nave of the Aksa as about 162 feet long and 32 broad. It is supported on each side by seven arches lightly pointed, resting upon cylindrical pillars, in the form of columns, but without any architectural proportion, with foliaged capitals which do not belong to any order. The fourth pillar to the right of the entrance is octangular, and enormously thick. It is called the pillar of Sidi Omar. The walls rise 13 feet above the tops of the arches, and contain two rows of twenty-one windows each. The roof is of timber, without being vaulted. The cupola is supported by four large arches resting upon four square pillars. It is spherical, with two rows of windows, and is ornamented with arabesque paintings and gilding of exquisite beauty. Its diameter is equal to that of the central nave.

M. Burckhardt describes the Holy House in Jerusalem as a union of several buildings erected at different periods of Islamism, bearing upon them demonstrative proofs of the prevailing taste of the various ages in which they were successively constructed. It is not precisely one mosque, but a group of mosques. Its name in Arabic, El Haram, strictly signifies a temple or place consecrated by the peculiar presence of the Divinity. The profane and the infidel are forbidden to enter it. The Mussulman religion acknowledges but two temples, those, namely, of Mecca and of Jerusalem; both are called El Haram; both are equally prohibited by law to Christians, Jews, and every other person who is not a believer in the Prophet. The mosques, on the other hand, are considered merely as places of meeting for certain acts of worship, and are not held so especially consecrated as to demand the total exclusion of all who do not profess the true faith. Entrance into them is not denied to the unbeliever by any statute of the Mohammedan law; and hence it is not uncommon for Christians at Constantinople to receive from the government a written order to visit even the Mosque of St. Sophia. But the sultan himself could not grant permission to an infidel either to pass into the territory of Mecca, or to enter the Temple of Jerusalem. A firman granting such privileges would be regarded as a most horrid sacrilege: it would not be respected by the people; and the favoured object would inevitably become the victim of his own imprudent boldness.[79]

In the interior of the rock whereon the Sakhara stands there is a cave, into which Dr. Richardson could not obtain admittance. He was four times in the mosque, and went twice thither under the express assurance that its doors should be thrown open to him. But when he arrived the key was always wanting, and when the keeper of it was sought he could never be found. Ali Bey, who encountered no obstacle, reveals all the mystery of this subterranean mansion. It is a room forming an irregular square of about eighteen feet surface, and eight feet high in the middle. The roof is that of a natural vault, quite irregular. In descending the staircase, there is upon the right-hand, near the bottom, a little tablet of marble, bearing the name of El Makam Souleman, the Place of Solomon. A similar one upon the left is named El Makam Daoud, the Place of David. A cavity or niche on the south-west side of the rock is called El Makam Ibrahim, the Place of Abraham. A similar concave step at the north-west angle is described as El Makam Djibrila, the Place of Gabriel; and a sort of stone table at the north-east angle is denominated El Makam el Hoder, the Place of Elias. In the roof of the apartment, exactly in the middle, there is an aperture almost cylindrical through the whole thickness of the rock, about three feet in diameter. This is the Place of the Prophet.

M. Burckhardt observed a copy of the Koran, the leaves of which were four feet long, and more than two feet and a half broad. Tradition reports that it belonged to the Caliph Omar; but he saw a similar one in the grand mosque at Cairo, and another at Mecca, to both of which the same origin is assigned. The drawings supplied by this enterprising traveller give a very distinct notion of the extent and magnificence of the great Mussulman temple,--the most prominent object in the modern Jerusalem, and occupying the site of the still more interesting edifice erected by Solomon in the proudest period of Jewish history.

But the Christian pilgrim, who walks about the holy city "to tell her towers and mark her bulwarks," is more readily attracted by less splendid objects, the memorials of his own more humble faith. Among these the most remarkable is the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, which is built on the lower part of the sloping hill distinguished by the name of Acre, near the place where it is joined to Mount Moriah. The Turkish government, aware of the veneration which all Christians entertain for relics in any way connected with the sufferings of the great Author of their religion, have converted this feeling into a source of revenue; every person not subject to the Sublime Porte, who visits the shrine of Jesus Christ, being compelled to pay a certain sum of money for admittance. But the church, nevertheless, is opened only on particular days of the week, and cannot be seen at any other time without an order from the two convents, the Latin and the Greek, with the sanction of the governor of the city. On such occasions the pressure at the doors is very great; the zeal of the pilgrims checked by the insolence of the Turks, who delight to insult and disappoint their anxiety, leading sometimes to scenes of tumult not quite in harmony with their pious motives. We shall give an account of the effect produced by the local and historical associations of the place on a sober spirit, in the words of a traveller to whom we have been already indebted:--

"The mind is not withdrawn from the important concerns of this hallowed spot by any tasteful decorations or dignified display of architecture in its plan or in its walls; but having cleared the throng, the religion of the place is allowed to take full possession of the soul, and the visiter feels as if he were passing into the presence of the great and immaculate Jehovah, and summoned to give an account of the most silent and secret thoughts of his heart. Having passed within these sacred walls, the attention is first directed to a large flat stone in the floor, a little within the door; it is surrounded by a rail, and several lamps hang suspended over it. The pilgrims approach it on their knees; touch and kiss it, and prostrating themselves before it, offer up their prayers in holy adoration. This is the stone on which the body of our Lord was washed and anointed and prepared for the tomb. Turning to the left and proceeding a little forward, we came into a round space immediately under the dome, surrounded with sixteen large columns which support the gallery above. In the centre of this space stands the Holy Sepulchre; it is enclosed in an oblong house, rounded at one end with small arcades or chapels for prayer, on the outside of it. These are for the Copts, the Abyssinians, the Syrian Mareonites, and other Christians, who are not, like the Roman Catholics, the Greeks, and Armenians, provided with large chapels in the body of the church. At the other end it is squared off and furnished with a platform in front, which is ascended by a flight of steps, having a small parapet-wall of marble on each hand, and floored with the same material. In the middle of this small platform stands a block of polished marble about a foot and a half square; on this stone sat the angel who announced the blessed tidings of the resurrection to Mary Magdalene, and Joanna, and Mary the mother of James. Advancing, and taking off our shoes and turbans at the desire of the keeper, he drew aside the curtain, and stepping down, and bending almost to the ground, we entered by a low narrow door into this mansion of victory, where Christ triumphed over the grave, and disarmed Death of all his terrors. Here the mind looks on Him who, though he knew no sin, yet entered the mansions of the dead to redeem us from death, and the prayers of a grateful heart ascend with a risen Saviour to the presence of God in heaven."[80]

The tomb exhibited is a sarcophagus of white marble, slightly tinged with blue, being fully six feet long, three feet broad, and two feet two inches deep. It is but indifferently polished, and seems as if it had at one time been exposed to the action of the atmosphere, by which it has been considerably affected. It is without any ornament, made in the Greek fashion, and not like the more ancient tombs of the Jews, which we see cut in the rock for the reception of the dead. There are seven lamps constantly burning over it, the gifts of different sovereigns in a succession of ages. It occupies about one-half of the sepulchral chamber, and extends from one end of it to the other. A space about three feet wide in front of it is all that remains for the accommodation of visiters, so that not more than three or four can be conveniently admitted at a time.