Chapter III: Part 3

Whilst still encamped near Jericho, Joshua undertook two important military exploits. One has been already described—the relief of the city of Gibeon and the defeat of the Amorites in the valley of Ajalon. The other has yet to be spoken of. In the mountain range which rises immediately to the west of the Jordan valley, are several passes which run up into the interior of the country. At the head of one of these stood the city of Ai, near to Bethel. It was an important stronghold, and its acquisition by the Israelites would secure them a firm and commanding position in central Palestine. A small detachment of men was therefore ordered to advance up the pass and attack the city, whilst the main body remained at Jericho. They were, however, defeated with great slaughter by the men of Ai and had to retreat down the steep defile. The sin of Achan having been detected and punished, a new assault was ordered by divine command, which proved successful.[125] The acquisition of this almost impregnable post made Joshua master of the whole of Southern Palestine, to the subjugation of which he could now proceed at leisure.

It was along the same pass that, in after years, Elijah and Elisha went up from Gilgal to Bethel and again returned to Jericho. Then crossing the plain, they proceeded to the Jordan, whilst “fifty men of the sons of the prophets” climbed the mountains in the rear, which command a view of the whole region, and “stood to view afar off.” At the place where the children of Israel had crossed the river under Joshua, the prophet took off his mantle, and smiting the waters they again parted, so that “they two went over on dry ground.” Here, perhaps, on the very spot where Moses had died and was buried, Elijah “went up by a whirlwind to heaven.” The two, who were thus mysteriously associated in their departure from earth, were to return to it together, and on the Mount of Transfiguration, to speak with their Lord and ours, “of the decease which He should accomplish at Jerusalem.”[126]

Yet once again was the Jordan to be miraculously parted asunder at the same place. Elisha, returning to Jericho, smote the waters with the mantle of Elijah, and invoking “the Lord God of Elijah, the waters parted hither and thither, and Elisha went over.”[127]

Reference has been made to the perennial fountains which rise around the site of Jericho. Most of the springs in the lower part of the Ghor are either brackish, or absolutely undrinkable. From their salt and acrid character they cause barrenness rather than fertility.[128] But there is one at the foot of the mounds which attracts attention from the purity, sweetness and abundance of its waters. It bears to this day the name of ELISHA’S FOUNTAIN, and is doubtless the one of which the historian speaks as having been healed by the word of Elisha speaking in the name of the Lord, “so the waters were healed unto this day, according to the saying of Elisha which he spake.”[129]

Whilst we have no precise indication of the scene of our Lord’s baptism yet a balance of probabilities seems to confirm the accuracy of the tradition that it was here, where the river had been thrice divided by miracle, that the event took place. John had been preaching in the wilderness of Judea which is just behind us. It was apparently in the same neighbourhood that he baptized the multitudes who came to him. And it was in immediate connection with his baptism that “Jesus being full of the Holy Ghost returned from the Jordan and was led by the spirit into the wilderness, being forty days tempted of the devil.” Though the MONS QUARANTANIA, which rises immediately above Jericho, has only a vague tradition to associate it with the “forty days’” fast, yet it meets all the requirements of the narrative, and its savage desolate solitude is in keeping with the spirit of the event.

Once only do we read that our Lord actually visited Jericho. He had crossed the Jordan and preached “on the further side.”[130] Recrossing the river, either by the fords or by the Roman bridge some distance up the stream on his way to Jerusalem, He passed through Jericho. The new city rebuilt by Herod, was now in the height of its splendour. Josephus describes the country round as surpassingly beautiful and fertile. Groves of palms and balsam-trees stretched far and wide. The roads leading to and from the city were shaded by sycamores. Having healed the blind man who sat by the wayside begging, He conferred a yet diviner boon upon Zaccheus, who in his eagerness to see the Lord had climbed into one of the wayside trees. Amidst the reproachful murmurs of the people, He went to be the guest of a man that was a sinner, bringing salvation to his house, “for the Son of man is come to seek and save that which was lost.... And when He had thus spoken He went before, ascending up to Jerusalem.”[131]

Thither let us follow Him.

The road at first winds amongst the mounds of débris, so often referred to, past ruined aqueducts and water courses which in the time of our Lord conveyed the fertilizing streams to irrigate the plain. The mountains above us are honey-combed by cells of hermits, who came here to live useless ascetic lives, where our Lord had fasted, prayed, and been tempted of the devil. Soon we begin to ascend and find ourselves skirting the edge of a savage ravine which plunges sheer down to a depth of five hundred feet. It is the Wady Kelt—once known as the valley of the CHERITH, where the prophet Elijah was fed by ravens,[132] and, in still earlier times, as the valley of Achor in which Achan was stoned.[133]

The ascent is continuous and steep. In a distance of about fifteen miles we rise more than three thousand feet. Hence the constant phrases “going _up_ to Jerusalem,” “going _down_ to Jericho.” On every side are steep mountains and wild glens, the haunt of plundering Bedouins, so that a strong and vigilant escort is needful.

About midway on our journey, we pass the ruins of an ancient khan. In accordance with oriental custom, noticed before, by which khans seldom or never change, but occupy the same spot from age to age, a halting place for travellers has stood here from immemorial antiquity. This then is the inn to which our Lord referred in his parable of the Good Samaritan. The road then, as now, was notorious for its insecurity. Reading on the spot the narrative of the traveller, who going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, was stripped, wounded, and left for dead on the road-side, every incident and detail acquired new significance and appropriateness.

From this point the wild weird desolation of the earlier part of our journey ceased, and gave place to the rounded featureless hills which characterise the scenery of Southern Palestine. About midday we reached the Ain el Haud, or “The Apostle’s Fountain,” and halted awhile. Before us rose a steep ascent up which wound a rough mountain road. It was the Mount of Olives. Reaching the summit we should look down upon Jerusalem!

I proposed to one or two of our party that we should walk on alone, so as to indulge, without restraint, in the emotions which such a view would excite. The proposal was heartily agreed to, and we started. The day had been showery, and, though not actually raining at the moment, the clouds were black and heavy. Scarcely had we commenced the ascent when the rain began to fall in torrents. The stiff, tenacious mud, and the slippery sheets of rock over which the track led, made the walk very difficult; but still we persevered. Soon a miserable, ruinous, poverty-stricken hamlet came in view, standing on a plateau of rock in a slight depression on the hill-side. The pasturage around it was good and abundant, and the olive groves ought to have been a source of wealth to the inhabitants. Under a better system of government, and with a more industrious population, it might have been a bright and prosperous village; but now its only attraction consists in its hallowed associations. It is Bethany—the home of Martha and Mary and Lazarus—the one spot on earth where He who “had not where to lay his head” found a loving welcome and a peaceful home. It has always seemed to me to be not without meaning that our Lord, on his Ascension, “led his disciples out as far as to Bethany,” so that the last spot his eyes looked upon, and his feet pressed before He left the earth which rejected Him should be the one in which He had been a loved and honoured guest.

The old name of Bethany has disappeared, together with the palm-trees, which once were in such profusion as to win for it this distinctive epithet.[134] The memory of the raising of Lazarus has lived so vividly in Arab legend, that the name El-’Azirîyeh has supplanted the earlier and biblical one.

Of course traditional sites are pointed out for all the events of the biblical narrative. The houses of Simon and of Martha and the grave of Lazarus are shown. The former may be dismissed without a glance or thought. They are evidently modern erections, certainly not earlier than the Saracenic period, and probably much more recent. But the tomb of Lazarus may be authentic. The masonry, indeed, is modern, but the sepulchre itself, a deep recess cut into the rock, is apparently ancient, and, so far as I could judge, was originally a tomb. It is entered by a narrow passage, with twenty-five steps, leading to a _cubiculum_. The tradition which identifies it with “the cave,” in which the “friend,” whom “Jesus loved” was buried, has a respectable antiquity, going back, at least, to the time of Arculf (A.D. 700). Whether this be the exact spot or not, we know that very near where we stand the memorable words were uttered: “I am the Resurrection and the Life: he that believeth in Me, though he were dead, yet shall he live.”[135]

Escaping from the rabble of Arabs clamouring for backshish, we resumed our journey. The rain had ceased, and a few breaks in the clouds encouraged a hope that we might gain a view of the city not utterly disappointing. But we were quite unprepared for the view which awaited us on reaching the summit of Olivet. Seen under any circumstances, it is one never to be forgotten. The deep ravine of the Kedron below us—the city on the opposite hill, with its grey venerable walls, its broad marble platform, in the centre of which stands the exquisite dome of the mosque of Omar—the picturesque mass of cupolas and minarets standing out against the sky—the surrounding valleys and hills dotted with villages and ruined towers and olive groves—need no aid from the associations of the spot to make it a most striking view. But when we add those associations—so sacred, so tender, so sublime—it is not to be wondered at that every visitor feels himself at a loss to express the emotions which it awakens.

Nothing, however, which I had heard or read had prepared me for the view which broke upon us as we ascended the minaret on the summit of Olivet. The vast marble platform of the Temple, the dome of the mosque, the roofs of El-Aksa, the innumerable cupolas and flat roofs of the city, were all running with water from the heavy rain. Through rifts in the clouds long slanting beams of sunlight fell upon them with a dazzling splendour. The city flashed and shone like molten silver. All the meanness and squalor of its degradation was lost in the radiance which veiled it. The storm-clouds had drifted away eastward, and settled dark and heavy over the valley of the Dead Sea, blotting it out from view by their gloomy mass. Above the line of clouds rose the mountains of Moab, purple in the light of the descending sun. Only one more touch of beauty, only one more suggestion of hallowed thought, was possible. This was furnished by a rainbow—symbol of Divine mercy and compassion—spanning the storm-cloud which hung above the valley of Sodom. On the one side was the city of God, radiant in the “clear shining after rain;” on the other the city of destruction, veiled in darkness and gloom, yet not utterly abandoned by our gracious and covenant-keeping God.

Impressive as is the view which bursts upon us from the summit of the Mount of Olives, even now that Jerusalem lies in its misery and degradation, it must have been far grander when our Lord, on his way from Bethany, standing upon this very spot beheld the city and wept over it, saying, “If thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this thy day, the things which belong unto thy peace! but now they are hid from thine eyes.”[136] The valley at our feet was at least sixty feet deeper then than it is at present. The accumulation of débris, the result of repeated sieges, has not only filled it up to that extent, but has choked up the bed of the Kedron, so that it has either ceased to flow altogether, or only trickles almost imperceptibly amongst the stones. The trees which once clothed the hills and the gardens which lay along the banks of the stream have disappeared. The face of the rock upon which the Temple stands, then went down almost precipitously, so that, as Josephus tells us, the spectator, standing upon the walls, grew dizzy as he looked into the ravine below him. Now mounds of rubbish, through which Captain Warren sank a shaft to the depth of a hundred feet before he reached the virgin soil, rest against the rock and rise almost to the foot of the walls. The Temple itself was a marvel of splendour and beauty. Built of costly marbles, overlaid with gold, and adorned with jewels, it shone resplendently when the light of the rising or the setting sun fell upon it, as though another sun was setting or rising. Of all this magnificence, nothing remains save the vast marble platform upon which it stood. Well might the disciples listen with reluctance or incredulity as our Lord foretold the impending destruction of a city “beautiful for situation, the joy of the whole earth.”

Slowly we descended from the summit, lingering at many points to recall the hallowed associations of the scene, or turning aside to gain some fresh point of view. We remembered not only that our Lord had often trodden these very paths in his journey between Bethany and Jerusalem, or gone out to spend the night upon the Mount of Olives, “as he was wont,”[137] but that David, in his flight from the city “went up by the ascent of Mount Olivet and wept as he went up, and had his head covered, and he went barefoot: and all the people that was with him covered every man his head, and they went up, weeping as they went up.”[138]

Passing the Garden of Gethsemane, and crossing the Kedron, we entered by St. Stephen’s Gate. Skirting the Temple area, traversing the length of the Via Dolorosa, slipping on the slimy stones or plunging ankle deep into the mud of the wretched streets, we emerged at the Jaffa Gate and found our camp pitched on the edge of the Valley of Hinnom.

JERUSALEM.

“OUR feet shall stand within thy gates, O Jerusalem.”[139] Drawn by an irresistible attraction, pilgrims flock hither from the very ends of the earth. The crumbling walls, the squalid filthy streets, the mouldering ruins, are regarded with a profound and reverential interest by millions of mankind, such as no other spot on earth can excite. To the Jew it is the centre alike of his patriotism and his religion. The Christian remembers that here the Son of God was crucified for the sins of the world. The Mohammedan, retaining in a mutilated and distorted form, the great facts of Jewish and of Christian scripture, and adding to them the legends of his own prophet, regards Jerusalem as second, and hardly second, in sanctity to Mecca itself. Nowhere else are the representatives of such various nationalities to be found as in this meeting-place of the three great monotheistic faiths which have spread so widely over the habitable globe. Jews who have travelled on foot from Poland or Morocco, may be seen weeping outside the temple walls. Greeks, Latins, Armenians, Copts, kneel side by side with worshippers from America, from Australia, and from every nation in Europe. Nubians, Hindoos, Affghans, Persians, Tartars, Arabs, prostrate themselves before the sacred rock from whence their prophet commenced his fabled journey to heaven, or gaze with awe on the spot to which he will, as they believe, return to judge the world.

The city, which holds so conspicuous a place in the later Scriptures, is in the earlier ones only referred to incidentally or obscurely. It is commonly identified with the Salem of which Melchizedec was king; and Mount Moriah, upon which Abraham was about to offer up Isaac, is thought to be the same with that on which the Temple was afterwards built. Dean Stanley argues strongly against this view, and would transfer the city of Melchizedec to a town, the site of which is marked by a village still bearing the name of Salem, near the ancient Shechem. The sacrifice of Isaac he would likewise place in the same neighbourhood on the summit of Gerizim. Though his arguments are weighty and deserve serious consideration, they cannot be accepted as conclusive. That the king of Jerusalem, in the days of Joshua,[140] bore a name or title almost the precise equivalent of that of the king of Salem, who was Abraham’s friend, is an important fact in the discussion. Adonizedec, the Lord of righteousness, would be a probable successor of Melchizedec, the King of righteousness.

But whilst Jerusalem was thus probably associated with two most memorable events in the life of Abraham, it was not till the time of David that the city rose into prominence. In his day it was regarded as an impregnable stronghold. The Jebusites, confident in the strength of their position, treated the attacks of the besiegers with derision, and placed upon their walls, the blind and the lame as an adequate garrison, “thinking, David cannot come in hither.... Nevertheless David took the stronghold of Zion.”[141] Stung by the taunt and incited by the promise of the king, Joab stormed the citadel and received the command-in-chief of the army as a reward of his desperate exploit. David, who had hitherto reigned in Hebron, now removed his capital to Jerusalem. The reasons for this are obvious. At Hebron he was isolated from the great bulk of his subjects; Jerusalem, though not central, was yet not very remote from the Northern tribes; it was on the frontier of his own tribe of Judah and partly within that of Benjamin, whose allegiance he thus secured. Military considerations were even more decisively in favour of the new capital. Nor must we overlook the divine guidance which thus prepared the way for the erection of the Temple on the chosen and favoured spot. Little did the rude rough soldier, when “getting up by the gutter and smiting the Jebusites,” think for what mighty events he was preparing the way.

The city fortified by David, enriched and adorned by Solomon,[142] has continued, with varying fortunes, to occupy the same spot to the present day. Its continuity, however, like that of the human body, is a constant sequence of destruction and reconstruction, ever perishing yet ever renewed. In addition to the corroding influence of time and the destructive agencies of earthquake and fire, it has suffered yet more severely from the violence of man. Perhaps no city in the world has undergone so many or such disastrous sieges. Roman, Persian, Saracen, Christian, Turk, have succeeded one another in the work of devastation. Again and again it has been laid utterly waste, and continued for years to be desolate and forsaken.

The result of this long succession of destructive agencies is, that of ancient Jerusalem scarcely a trace or vestige remains. The city of David and Solomon lies buried far beneath the ruins of edifices which have succeeded it. It is even difficult to say, with certainty, that we can find undoubted remains above the soil of the city of Herod. The great Tyropæan valley which divided Zion from Acra has been filled up with débris, leaving only a slight depression. We cannot even trace the line of the ancient walls except where they ran along the edge of the ravine, which bounds the city on the east and south. The whole topography of Jerusalem is hence involved in the utmost confusion. The most elementary facts as to the localities indicated by the inspired narrative, have been for years the theme of keen and angry dispute. Whilst the controversial literature on the subject might fill a moderately-sized library, we seem almost as far from a satisfactory settlement of the question as ever.

The general outline of the country and the great natural features of the landscape are, indeed, distinct and unmistakeable. The mountains round about Jerusalem, the valleys which encompass it, and the ridge on which it stands, remain as they were in the days of the patriarchs and prophets and apostles. Looked at from any of the surrounding heights, we feel no difficulty in identifying the objects which meet our view. The scene which lies outstretched before us from the summit of the Mount of Olives, has been so truthfully and graphically sketched by Lady Strangford, that we cannot do better than reproduce her description:

“Let us sketch in slightly what we see: the bare hill to the south of the city, with one miserable wind-worn tree on its brow, is the Hill of Evil Counsel (where Caiaphas and the elders are said, upon no authority, however, to have taken counsel together[143]). It is rocky and irregular, sloping off to the west and dying down in the Plain of Rephaim. On the north, long ridges of low barren hills or plains, stony and bare, though dotted with olives here and there, stretch one behind another. They seem to rise gently from the city until the monotony is broken by the low peak of Neby Samwil, marked by a tower, the ruin of an old convent church, since converted into a mosque.

“Between these two sides of the picture the Holy City stands, apparently on a square, rocky hill, enclosed in crenelated walls, with here and there a bastion or a zigzag—very quaint and very sad those old walls look, and yet something proudly, too, they stand—while beyond them a long, dull, flat ridge rises slightly towards the west, and two deep narrow ravines sweep round the holy mountain—the one is the valley of Jehoshaphat, or of the Kedron, commencing from some distance to the north of the city, and running along the eastern side of it to the south. The other is the Valley of Hinnom, coming round from the western side and uniting with the Kedron at the south-east corner, embracing at that point, between them, the spur of Mount Moriah, which is called Ophel. Farthest from us, on the western wall, is the Tower of Hippicus. Near it, to the right, is the Latin Convent and the two domes of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. To the left, on Mount Zion, the extensive Armenian Convent, the domes of some new synagogues, the English Church, and the tomb of David are seen (the last outside the wall). These are almost the only buildings on which the eye can rest among the confused mass of little brown and white domes and grey walls: nor are any of these seen at first, for the Mosque of Omar, in the famous Harâm, the second most beautiful building in all the world, rivets all the spectator’s attention. The wall enclosing the mosque occupies more than half the eastern side of the city—in the centre of which stands the mosque, an octagonal building, pierced with seven windows on each side, narrowing above into a small circle also pierced with windows, and surmounted by a most graceful dome, bearing aloft the gilt crescent of Islam; the whole building is cased entirely in encaustic tiles—chiefly blue, green, purple, and yellow, formed into intricate and delicate arabesques, and so mingled that it is impossible to say whether the building is green or blue. The cornice is replaced by an Arabic inscription in large and prettily interlaced letters. The mosque stands on a marble platform, which is reached by broad flights of steps, and round the edge of which are several groups of slender arches and small houses, while little circular _mihrabs_, or praying-places, shaded by a light canopy of fretted stone, are dotted over its surface. Round this platform are grassy slopes, with noble cypresses and a few other trees, the bright and dark green of which contrast beautifully with the white and coloured marbles of the buildings.

“At the southern end of the enclosure is the mosque of El Aksa, ornamented with a dome and covered by a sloping roof. The mosque of the Mogharibeh, the college of the Dervishes, and the Serai, the residence of the pasha, stand on the west and north sides—while the whole extent of the eastern side of the city is only broken by St. Stephen’s Gate, and the long-closed ‘Golden Gate,’ with its two round arches and small domes.

“This is the view over which Jesus wept, when He beheld its beauty, and thought upon its ruin and desolation; and strange and thrilling, indeed, is the feeling it gives to one now: the gloomy ravines lose much of their effect seen from above: the surrounding hills are, one and all, the very dreariest, barrenest, and ugliest one can find anywhere, and yet the whole is beautiful, and even the fastidious and trifling are impressed by it.”

It is when we endeavour to fill in the details of the city itself that our difficulties and perplexities commence. They are caused partly by the vague and indefinite language of ancient historians and topographers, and partly by the fact that valleys have been filled up, hills have been levelled and successive cities have arisen upon the ruins of those which have preceded them, thus effacing the landmarks which would otherwise have guided us. Mediæval and monkish traditions have likewise done much to obscure and pervert the true topography of Jerusalem. Learning and labour have been wasted in the endeavour to defend theories which have nothing in their favour but ecclesiastical authority. Theological controversies have thus been imported into questions which ought to have been discussed only in the light of historical and geographical science.

We know from Josephus that the city stood on two hills, divided by the Tyropæan Valley. One of these was Zion, the other Acra. We read likewise of Bezetha, Moriah, and Ophel. Did these last form a separate ridge or were they names given to parts of one of the former? If so, to which—Zion or Acra? The sketch plan given above shows the conclusion arrived at by Dr. Robinson, who maintains that there were three separate hills. Other writers of scarcely inferior authority identify the Temple ridge with Zion—others again with Acra. Notwithstanding the confident dogmatism with which each of these views has been maintained, I cannot say that any of them have carried full conviction to my own mind. It is to be hoped that the explorations now in progress may throw some light upon these obscure questions.

No less conflicting are the views as to the sites of the SEPULCHRE and of the TEMPLE. Though the Temple claims priority in the order of historical sequence, yet, for reasons which will subsequently appear, we first consider the site of the Sepulchre.

The church of the Holy Sepulchre stands in a crowded part of the city, at some distance to the north-west of the Temple area. It is a comparatively modern structure, no portion being probably older than the period of the Crusades. It is entered through a courtyard, in which a market is now held for the sale of trinkets, rosaries, pictures and curiosities. And just inside the principal entrance a Turkish guard is stationed to keep order, and repress disturbances amongst the hostile sects and nationalities who visit it.

In passing round the church, attention is distracted and incredulity excited by the aggregation under one roof of numerous shrines and holy places. Here are shown not only the sites of the crucifixion and the resurrection, but the tombs of Adam, Melchizedec, Joseph of Arimathea, and of Nicodemus; the place where our Lord was crowned with thorns, and where He appeared to Mary Magdalene; the pillar to which he was bound during the scourging; the slab upon which His body was laid for the anointing; the spot where He first appeared to His mother after the resurrection; the centre of the world; the place whence the earth was taken from which Adam was made, with many other marvels. Even those who come, with simple faith, to “see the place where the Lord lay,” depart indignant at the frauds and lying legends palmed off upon them. This feeling is increased by the tinsel and frippery which abound everywhere. The very Chapel of the Resurrection is made offensive by puerile ornamentation and tawdry finery. Yet in spite of all, it is strangely affecting to see the agony of earnestness, the passionate fervour of devotion, displayed by pilgrims, many of whom have travelled on foot from incredible distances to pray at the sacred shrines.

a. Entrance to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.
b. Divan of the Turkish Guards.
c. Staircase of the Latins, leading to Golgotha.
c'. Ditto of the Greeks.
d. The Place of Crucifixion.
e. Greek Altar, where is found the Hole of the Cross.
f. Cleft of the Rock.
gg. Greek Chapels.
g'. Parting of Garments.
g". Crowning of Thorns.
h. Stone of Anointing.
i. Position of the three Maries.
kk. Staircase and Armenian Chapels.
ll. Chapels attached to Latin Convent.
m. Chapel of the Angel.
n. Inner Chapel.
o. The Holy Sepulchre.
p. Coptic Chapel.
q. Ditto of Schismatic Syrians.
r. Tombs of Joseph and Nicodemus.
ss. Greek, Armenian, and Coptic Chapels.
t. Staircase to Latin Church.
u. Station of Mary Magdalene.
v. Place where Christ appeared to Mary Magdalene.
x. Christ’s Prison.
y. Steps leading to Chapel of the Finding.
z. Place where the Cross was found.

A. Entrance Court.
B. Chapel of Calvary.
C. Great Cupola.
D. Chapel of Holy Sepulchre.
E. Greek Church.
F. Church of the Franciscans.
G. Chapel of St. Helena.
H. Chapel of the Finding of the Cross.
K. Ruined Steeple.

α. Centre of the World.
β. Most Holy Place of the Greeks.
δ. Chapel of Longinus.
δ. Place of Abraham’s Sacrifice.
ε. Place where Melchisedek blessed the Bread.

We may dismiss, without a moment’s hesitation, the legends which cluster around the main central tradition; but have we reasonable ground for believing that our Lord was crucified and buried upon this spot? What is the evidence upon which the authenticity of the site rests?

In the reign of Constantine the city had been laid utterly waste; its very name had ceased to be used, and Christians and Jews had been banished from it for generations. The superstitious zeal of the Empress Helena, prompted her to visit the sacred places, and the site of Calvary had been fixed by the alleged discovery of the three crosses which were found in a pit, and their authenticity is said to have been attested by the miracles which were worked. Constantine now resolved to recover the Sepulchre and to erect a church, the splendour and beauty of which should surpass all others. Eusebius tells us, that the pagans had piled a mound of earth over the cave, had paved the surface and placed upon it a temple to Venus; the emperor caused these to be removed, when “as soon as the original surface of the ground, beneath its covering of earth appeared, immediately and contrary to all expectation, the venerable and hallowed monument of our Saviour’s resurrection was discovered.” The cave was adorned with marbles, a colonnade was erected round it, and a basilica was built in honour of the _Anastasis_, or Resurrection.

Two questions at once suggest themselves. Did Constantine discover the true site? Does the present church stand upon the same spot with his basilica? To these questions the most contradictory answers are given. By some it is maintained that the emperor was guided, in his search, by accurate information, that a continuous tradition connects his edifice with the present church, and that, consequently, we have the very places of the entombment and resurrection fixed beyond reasonable doubt. Others, holding that the true site was discovered by Constantine, yet assert that during the intervals in which Christians were banished from Jerusalem by Persian and Mohammedan conquerors, the original edifice was destroyed, the locality forgotten, and that a new church sprang up upon a different site, around which legends have clustered in the lapse of ages which have no historical basis. Others, again, assert that Constantine was the dupe either of superstition or of imposture, and that there was absolutely no evidence that the sepulchre was where he sought for it.

Into the protracted and angry discussions which have raged upon these questions, I do not propose to enter here. But after a careful examination of the site and of the arguments urged by the various disputants, I come to the conclusion that the place of the crucifixion and entombment must be sought elsewhere, and not on the spot which tradition points out. Though the indications of Scripture may be insufficient to show us where it was, they are yet quite adequate to tell us where it was not.

1. It was outside the city, yet near to it (John xix. 20; Hebrews xiii. 12).

2. It was a place where interments were permitted, and as a matter of fact did take place (Matt. xxvii. 59, 60; Mark xv. 46, 47; Luke xxiii. 53; John xix. 41, 42).

3. There was a garden in “the place” (John xix. 41).

4. It was by the side of a road leading up from the country (Matt. xxvii. 39; Mark xv. 21, 29; Luke xxiii. 26).

5. It was a spot capable of being seen by a considerable number of persons from a distance (Matt. xxvii. 55; Mark xv. 40; Luke xxiii. 49).

6. It was within sight and hearing of a place whence the priests could stand without danger of defilement (Matt. xxvii. 41; Mark xv. 31; John xviii. 28).

7. It was not far from the barracks of the Roman soldiers, some of whom ran and fetched the vinegar—the ordinary _posca_, or sour drink of the legionaries—when Jesus on the cross cried, “I thirst” (Matt. xxvii. 48; Mark xv. 36).

8. The language of the evangelists seems to imply that the procession, on leaving the judgment hall, passed not through the city but outside it (Matt. xxvii. 31, 32; Mark xv. 20; Luke xxiii. 26; John xix. 17).

The present site fails to satisfy any one of these conditions. It is not only far within the walls, but apparently must have been so in the time of our Lord when the city was much larger and more populous than now, though in the time of Constantine, when the walls were demolished and the city desolate, it may have been outside the inhabited district.[144] Even if by any sudden bend, or re-entering angle the line of circumvallation left it outside, which, however, is very unlikely, it must still have been in the midst of houses, for we find that Agrippa, twelve years afterwards, constructed a third line of wall to enclose an extensive suburb which had sprung up on this side; and we know that the ceremonial law and social usages of the Jews forbad the formation of graves among the abodes of the living.

Where could the priests have stood who so feared[145] defilement, that they would not enter the judgment hall amongst a crowd of Roman soldiers and rabble? In a place of public execution and interment, they must have been defiled.

If, as seems certain, houses were all round the present site, where could the great multitude have watched from “afar off?”

The judgment hall and the barracks are believed to have been in the Castle of Antonia. In this case the Via Dolorosa must have led, as tradition now marks it, through the heart of the city, crowded at the time to its utmost capacity by the multitudes who had come up to the feast. The rulers feared “an uproar among the people,” many of whom “believed on Him;” hence the need for taking Him by subtlety, and for hurrying over the trial in an illegal and stealthy manner. Is it likely that they would run the risk of a disturbance and a rescue in the crowded street? especially with a guard of only four soldiers.[146] We can hardly doubt that, in accordance with the indications of the narrative the rulers would choose some place for the execution to which they could pass immediately from the prætorium into the open country.

We have but to transfer the scene of the crucifixion from the northern to the eastern side of the city, in the valley of the Kedron, to find all the requirements of the narrative satisfied. It is, and always must have been, outside the walls. It was a recognised place of interment, the valley to this day being full of graves, many of them very ancient and cut in the rock. Irrigated by the river, by wells and fountains, there were numerous gardens. The slope of Olivet would allow a great multitude to watch the scene afar off, and the priests, standing on the Temple cloisters, would be within sight and hail of Calvary without fear of defilement. One of the two main roads leading from the country into Jerusalem passed close to the spot. And the procession, leaving the prætorium, would emerge at once from the city into the open country. Assuming then that the site of Calvary is to be sought on the eastern side, the whole narrative becomes clear and consistent.

If this be conceded a new and unexpected conformity between the type and the great Antitype is discovered. The Epistle to the Hebrews, written at a time when the Temple was yet standing and its sacrifices were being offered, says, respecting the sin-offering, “the bodies of those beasts whose blood is brought into the sanctuary by the High Priest for sin, are burned without the camp; wherefore Jesus, also, that He might sanctify the people with His own blood suffered without _the gate_.”[147] Not merely “a gate,” but “_the_ gate,” through which the bodies of the sacrifices were carried out to be burned. The great sin-offering for the world was thus led forth to be crucified through the very gate and in sight of the very spot in which the typical sacrifices had been burned in the valley of Hinnom.

Again the rending of the veil at the moment of our Lord’s death gains a new significance if this view be adopted. The Temple, as we know, opened to the east. It would be within sight of Calvary. How striking, how suggestive that the typical veil should thus be “rent in twain from the top throughout” just when we received “boldness to enter into the holiest by the blood of Jesus by a new and living way which he consecrated for us, through the veil, that is to say, his flesh.”[148]

And yet further, the fact that the place of our Lord’s death, burial, and resurrection was in close proximity to the Temple, would give additional significance to the taunt of those “that passed by saying, Thou that destroyest the temple and buildest it in three days save thyself.”[149] Here again the type and the antitype come into close juxtaposition.

The site of the TEMPLE claims our next attention.

In any view of Jerusalem from the eastward the vast enclosure known as the Haram esh Sherîf, or the Noble Sanctuary, arrests the eye from its size, its beauty, and the profound interest which attaches to it. Within its limits stood the Temple, and the world can hardly afford a nobler, worthier site for the house of the Lord. Standing on a ridge, guarded by valleys on every side, it formed a natural and almost impregnable fortress. Psalmists and prophets only gave expression to the feelings of the whole people when they celebrated, in exulting and rapturous strains, the strength, the beauty, and the glory of the city of God. It was a saying of the Rabbis that “the world is like an eye. The ocean surrounding it is the white of the eye; the earth is the coloured part; Jerusalem is the pupil; but the sanctuary is the image within the pupil. There the being of God is at once mirrored and beheld.”

The walls of the Temple area enclose a rectangle of about fifteen hundred feet from north to south by nine hundred feet from east to west. Its stones are many of them of great size; Capt. Warren measured one which was thirty-eight feet nine inches in length. The peculiar bevel which characterises early Jewish and Phœnician work may be observed on most of them. Occasionally, especially in the lower courses, they appear to occupy their original position, though whether placed there by Solomon, Nehemiah, or Herod, cannot be ascertained at present; more frequently the stones have been replaced by later and more modern hands than those of the original builders. A careful examination often shows that the original materials have been used over and over again in successive walls, and commonly reduced in size so as to be worked more easily. Columns of the finest marble, porphyry and serpentine built in amongst the blocks of limestone, are by no means rare. These are sometimes whole and erect, but more often broken across and laid in horizontally with the ends projecting. They evidently formed part of the Temple, and have been used by later builders as being ready to hand. Examining these massive remains of ancient power and wealth it was impossible not to remember the words of the disciples, “Master, see what manner of stones and what buildings are here.” The stability of the edifice seemed to be ensured not only by the size of the blocks but by the excellence of the Jewish masonry, which was so perfect that it is often impossible to insert the point of a knife between the joints. Yet the dilapidated condition of the walls shows how wonderfully our Lord’s words have been verified, “Seest thou these great buildings? there shall not be left one stone upon another that shall not be thrown down.”[150]

Starting at the north-east angle, and going eastward, with the valley of the Kedron and the Mount of Olives on our left hand, the Temple area on our right, we come to the Golden Gate, a remarkable double gateway the date and purpose of which are unknown. Some have supposed it to be the Beautiful Gate at which the lame man sat begging,[151] but from the style of architecture it can hardly be older than the age of Constantine. It is now walled up, in consequence of a Mohammedan tradition that the Christians will again take possession of Jerusalem, and that their King will enter victoriously through this gate. Another tradition is that the last judgment will take place in the valley of Jehoshaphat or of Kedron, just below us, and that Mohammed will stand upon one of the projecting pillars over the entrance, and Issa—their name for Jesus—on the Mount of Olives opposite, and together judge the world.

Along the southern side there is little to detain us. We have on our right the wall surmounted by the roof of the mosque of El Aksa and on our left the slope of Ophel running down to the point at which the Valleys of Hinnom and Kedron meet. But immediately after turning the south-west corner we come upon an object of profound interest. The Temple was on this side divided from the city by a valley, now nearly filled up. From the wall which here bears traces of extreme antiquity and appears to be a part of the original structure, some huge blocks of stones are seen to project. These were found by Robinson to form the first courses of an arch. Captain Wilson, acting on behalf of the Palestine Exploration Fund, caused a line of shafts to be sunk due westward from this point, and discovered a series of piers upon which other arches had rested, so that we have here the remains of a bridge which ran across the valley connecting the Temple with the city. We learn from Josephus that the valley was spanned by a bridge leading from the Temple to the palace. All subsequent researches have tended to establish the conclusion at which Robinson arrived that, “This arch could only belong to THE BRIDGE, and it proves incontestably the antiquity of that portion of the wall from which it springs.” The only difficulty in the way of ascribing this great work to Solomon or his successors is that the principle of the arch was not then known. A more thorough acquaintance with Egyptian architecture, however, proves that this statement is not strictly true. Examples of the arch, though rare, may yet be found in buildings of undoubted antiquity. In the narrative of the visit of the Queen of Sheba to Solomon we read that, “When she had seen ... his ascent by which he went up unto the house of the Lord, there was no more spirit in her.”[152] This seems to be spoken of as the climax of all the wonders which were shown her. If we may venture to identify the arched bridge across the valley with “the ascent” thus spoken of it will adequately explain the astonishment with which it was regarded.

A little farther along the western wall we come to the Wailing Place of the Jews. It is close to the Jewish quarter—the foulest, most squalid and wretched part of the city. The masonry here is the finest, and in the best preservation, of any part of the enclosure. Many of the stones are twenty-five feet in length and apparently have remained undisturbed since the time of the first builder.[153] Here the Jews assemble every Friday to mourn over their fallen state, especially their exclusion from “the holy and beautiful house,” where their fathers worshipped God. Some press their lips against crevices in the masonry as though imploring an answer from some unseen presence within, others utter loud cries of anguish. Here is one group joining in the prayers of an aged rabbi; yonder another sitting in silent anguish, their cheeks bathed in tears. The stones are in many places worn smooth with their passionate kisses. The grief of the new-comers is evidently deep and genuine. But with the older residents it has subsided into little more than a mere ceremonial observance and an empty form. But in either case the scene is strangely affecting, leading back our thoughts to the self-invoked curse of eighteen hundred years ago—“His blood be on us, and on our children.”[154]

The northern wall has nothing to detain us, except the pool of Bethesda, so called, but of which the identification is doubtful.[155] There are still traces of what may have been “the five porches,” but the pool is now little more than a pit or ditch choked with filth and ordure, and, only after heavy rains, containing a little stagnant, fetid water.

We now enter the Temple area and find ourselves in an enclosure of extraordinary beauty. In spring and early summer the turf is of a brilliant green, enamelled with a profusion of wild flowers, and dotted over with trees, most of them cypresses, many of which are of great size. The birds, free from molestation, are exceedingly tame. Doves and sparrows are especially numerous, reminding us of the words of the psalmist, when, “longing, yea, even fainting for the courts of the Lord,” “the sparrow hath found a house, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young; even thine altars, O Lord of hosts, my King and my God.”[156] Cloisters, colonnades, fountains, cupolas and shrines, are seen here and there within the spacious area. But the eye is arrested and detained by a marble platform from the centre of which rises one of the most exquisite domes in the world. This is the _Kubbet es Sakhrah_, “the Dome of the Rock,” better known to Europeans as “the MOSQUE OF OMAR,” next after Mecca the most sacred, next after Cordova the most beautiful of all moslem shrines.[157] There are several other mosques within the Temple area, but none that claim special notice except the one at the south end—that of El Aksa. This is a large building, the date and original purpose of which, however, is involved in much obscurity.

The rock itself is honey-combed with excavations, most of them cisterns or conduits. Some of these are supplied with water from Solomon’s Pools beyond Bethlehem. The aqueduct may yet be traced along the edge of the Wady Urtas. It is said that, in addition to the water brought from a distance, there are natural springs within the rock itself; this, however, is doubted. From whatever source the supply was derived it was so abundant that it was never known to be exhausted. In some of these vast underground reservoirs which I visited, I found the water to be deliciously cold, sweet and clear. It was in reference to these inexhaustible stores from which the priests drew so plentifully, that our Lord, “in that great day of the feast ... stood and cried, If any man thirst, let him come unto Me and drink. He that believeth on Me, as the Scripture hath said, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water. This spake He of the Spirit, which they that believe on Him should receive.”[158]

Among the subterranean chambers is one dedicated to the Lord Issa, or Jesus. Here according to Mohammedan tradition he was born; his cradle is shown, and the chapel, for such it is, is regarded as one of peculiar sanctity.

Beneath the southern end of the area is an extraordinary series of substructions which used to be called Solomon’s stables, and were believed to have been erected for that purpose by the magnificent king. Their real design is obvious, though when and by whom they were built cannot be determined. The Temple area is constructed on the summit of Mount Moriah. As the hill sloped downward on the east, west, and south it was necessary to level the top to secure a plane surface. But on the southern side or Ophel, the descent was rapid. To have secured a level platform here, it would have been necessary to cut away so much from the summit as seriously to have reduced its height. These arches were, therefore, built up from beneath. The same method was adopted at Rome to enlarge the level area of the Palatine.

In what part of the extensive area thus formed did the Temple stand? It has been commonly assumed that the marble platform in the centre marks the site, and that the Mosque of Omar stands over the spot occupied by the altar or the Holy Place. This view, however, is beset with doubts. The mosque encloses a mass of rock sixty-feet in length, fifty-five in breadth, and standing up about fifteen feet above the earth around it. Now we know that the Temple was built upon the threshing-floor of Araunah the Jebusite.[159] This mass of rock, however, with its inequalities of surface could never have been a threshing-floor. It has been said that probably the rock was cut away around it, leaving this portion untouched. But this explanation is equally inconsistent with the facts of the case. For the rock is unhewn, and only in one or two places bears marks of the chisel. Besides which, if it had stood within the precincts of the Temple it could hardly have escaped mention, yet neither the Scriptures, the writings of Josephus, nor those of the Talmudists allude to it.[160] Where could it have stood? What purpose could it have served? Its size is fatal to the theory that it was in the most Holy Place, which was a small chamber. It is possible, though not very probable, that being covered with plates of brass it formed the core of the altar of burnt-offerings. Standing on the summit and in the centre of the ridge of Moriah, it is the likeliest place for the site of the Temple, yet the difficulties, in the way of placing the Temple over it, are very great.