JERUSALEM.
JERUSALEM, one of the most ancient and renowned cities of which we have any account, formerly the capital of the Jewish empire, and now that of modern Palestine. It is situated on unequal ground, on a range of high hills, some few eminences of which overtop those on which the city stands, and the adjacent country is remarkably rocky and barren. The city, which is surrounded with a wall fifty feet in height, occupies an irregular square, facing the four cardinal points, and is about two and a half miles in circumference. The eastern wall, which is not quite so long as the other sides, runs straight along the brow of Mount Moriah, with the deep valley of Jehoshaphat below. The southern side is extremely irregular, taking a zigzag direction; the south-west extreme being terminated by a mosque built over the supposed sepulchre of David, on the summit of Mount Zion. The southern wall is quite straight and regular, and runs over slightly-declining ground. The side facing the west is the longest of the whole. The wall appears to be a modern work, all executed at the same time. It is flanked at irregular distances by square towers, and is guarded by battlements all around, with loop-holes for arrows or musketry. On the north the city is bounded by
a level and apparently fertile space, covered with olive trees, particularly near the north-eastern angle. On the south is seen the steep acclivity of Mount Zion, and the Valley of Hinnom, on which are some cultivated spots and small garden enclosures. On the west the sterile summits of the hills scarcely rise above the dwellings; whilst eastward, the deep valley of Jehoshaphat, at the foot of the Mount of Olives, though partially relieved by spots with trees, presents, in general, a forbidding and barren appearance. The first aspect of Jerusalem has been variously described by different writers, and the city appears to be seen to more or less advantage according to the quarter from which it is approached. Dr Clarke was impressed with its grandeur when he first obtained a distant prospect of it. "Instead," he observes, "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 splendor." "I can now account," says 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 in 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.1 Dr Clarke, however, observes that there is another point from which Jerusalem is not seen to so much advantage; and accordingly Mr Browne, who approached it by the road from Jaffa, observes, that the first aspect of Jerusalem did not gratify his expectation; and Buckingham declares, that, independently of the feelings and recollections which the approach to this city cannot fail to awaken, its appearance disappointed his expectations, and "had certainly nothing of grandeur or beauty, of stateliness or magnificence, about it. It appeared like a walled town of the third or fourth class, having neither towers, nor domes, nor minarets within it; but strong, large, flat-roofed buildings, of the most unornamented kind, seated amid rugged hills, on a stony and forbidding soil, with scarcely a picturesque object in the whole compass of the surrounding view."2 In like manner Sir Frederick Henniker asks, "Is this the city that men call the perfection of beauty and 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-place 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."3 The diversity of opinion, nay, even the apparent contradiction, which prevails in the accounts of different travellers respecting Jerusalem, will be still further illustrated by M. de Lamarine's description of the exterior aspects of the holy city.
"This city," says he, "is not, as it has been represented, an unshapely and confused mass of ruins and ashes, over which a few Arab cottages are thrown, or a few Bedouin tents pitched; neither is it, like Athens, a chaos of dust and crumbling walls, where the traveller seeks in vain the shadow of edifices, the trace of streets, the phantom of a city; but it is a city shining in light and colour, presenting nobly to view her intact and battlemented walls, her blue mosque with its white colonnades, her thousand
resplendent domes, from which the rays of the autumnal Jerusalem sun are reflected in a dazzling vapour; the façades of her houses, tinted by time and heat, of the yellow and golden hue of the edifices of Pæstum or of Rome; her old towers, the guardians of her walls, to which neither one stone, one loop-hole, nor one battlement is wanting; and, above all, amidst that ocean of houses, that cloud of little domes which cover them, is a dark elliptical dome, larger than the others, overlooked by another and a white one. These are the churches of the Holy Sepulchre and of Calvary; from hence they are confounded, and appear drowned in the immense labyrinth of domes, edifices, and streets, which encompass them; and one finds it difficult to credit such a situation for Calvary and the Sepulchre, which, according to the ideas we derive from the gospel history, should be placed on a separate hill without the walls, and not in the centre of Jerusalem. The city, confined on the side of Mount Zion, has no doubt enlarged herself on the north, to embrace within her circuit those two sites which make her shame and glory, that of the murder of the just man, and the resurrection of the incarnate Deity.
"Such is the city from the height of the Mount of Olives. She has no horizon behind her to the west nor to the north. The line of her walls and her towers, the points of her numerous minarets, the arches of her shining domes, stand out in bold relief against the deep blue of an orient sky; and the town, thus exhibited on its broad and elevated platform, seems again to shine in all the antique splendour of its prophecies, or to be only waiting the word to rise in dazzling glory from its seventeen successive ruins, and to be transformed into that New Jerusalem which is to come out of the bosom of the desert radiant with brightness.
"The view is the most splendid that can be presented to the eye, of a city that is no more; for she still seems to exist as one full of life and youth: but on contemplating the scene with more attention, we feel that it is really no more than a fair vision of the city of David and Solomon. No noise arises from her squares and streets, no roads lead to her gates from the east or from the west, from the north or from the south, except a few paths winding among the rocks, on which you may meet only half-naked Arabs, some camel drivers from Damascus, or women from Bethlehem or Jericho, carrying on their heads a basket of raisins from Engaddi, or a cage of doves, to be sold on the morrow under the trebithuses beyond the city gates. No one passed in or out; no mendicant even was seated against her curbstones; no sentinel showed himself at her threshold; we saw, indeed, no living object, heard no living sound; we found the same void, the same silence, at the entrance of a city containing 30,000 souls, during the twelve hours of the day, as we should have expected before the gates of Pompeii or Herculaneum.
"We saw nothing pass the gate of Damascus, except four funeral processions, silently winding their way along the walls to the Turkish cemetery; nor the gate of Zion, while we were within view, except a poor Christian, who had died in the morning of the plague, and was carried by four grave-diggers to the Grecian burial-place. They passed close by us, stretched the infectious corpse upon the ground, wrapped in its own garments, and in silence commenced digging its last bed under our horses' feet. The earth all around the city was freshly disturbed by similar sepultures, which the plague multiplied daily; and the only sensible noise outside the walls of Jerusalem was the monotonous plaints of the Turkish women bewailing their dead. I know not whether the plague was the only cause of the emptiness of the roads and the profound silence that reign-
1 Itinéraire de Paris à Jérusalem, tom. xxii. p. 365.
2 Travels through Palestine, p. 174.
3 Notes on Egypt, &c.
Jerusalem, ed within and around Jerusalem, but I think not; for the Turks and Arabs turn not away from the inflictions of Omnipotence, which they are convinced may everywhere reach them, and that there is no road by which to escape; a sublime idea, but which often leads to the most fatal consequences.
"To the left of the platform, the temple, and the walls of Jerusalem, the hill which supports the city suddenly sinks, stretches itself, and descends in gentle slopes, sometimes broken by terraces of falling stones. On its summit, at some hundred paces from Jerusalem, stand a mosque, and a group of Turkish edifices, not unlike a European hamlet, crowned with its church and steeple. This is Sion, the palace, the tomb of David; the seat of his inspiration and of his joys, of his life and his repose. A spot doubly sacred to me, who have so often felt my heart touched and my thoughts rapt by the sweet singer of Israel,—the first poet of sentiment,—the king of lyrics. Never have human fibres vibrated to harmonies so deep, so penetrating, so solemn. Never has the imagination of poet been set so high, never has its expression been so true. Never has the soul of man expanded itself before man, and before God, in tones and sentiments so tender, so sympathetic, and so heartfelt. All the most secret murmurs of the human heart found their voice and their note on the lips and the harp of this minstrel. And if we revert to the remote period when such chaunts were first echoed on the earth; if we consider that at the same period the lyric poetry of the most cultivated nations sang only of wine, love, war, and the victories of the muses, or of the courses at the Eleian games; we dwell with profound astonishment on the mystic accents of the prophet king, who addresses God the Creator as friend talks to friend; comprehends and adores His wonders, admires His judgments, implores His mercies, and seems to be an anticipatory echo of the evangelic poetry, repeating the mild accents of Christ before they had been heard. Prophet or not, as he is contemplated by the philosopher or the Christian, neither of them can deny the poet king an inspiration bestowed on no other man. Read Horace or Pindar after a psalm! For my part I cannot.
"I, the feeble poet of an age of silence and decay, had I domesticated at Jerusalem, should have selected for my residence and abiding place precisely the spot which David chose for his at Sion. Here is the most beautiful view in all Judea, Palestine, or Galilee. To the left lies Jerusalem with its temple and its edifices, over which the eyes of the king or of the poet might rove at large without his being seen from thence. Before him, fertile gardens, descending in steep declivities, lead to the bed of that torrent, in the roar and foam of which he delights. Lower down, the valley opens and extends itself; fig-trees, pomegranates, and olives, overshadowing it. On one of these rocks, suspended over the rolling tide; in one of these sonorous grottoes, refreshed by the breeze and by the murmur of the waters; or at the foot of a trebinthus, ancestor of that which shelters me; the divine poet doubtless awaited those inspirations which he so melodiously poured forth. And why will they not here also visit me, that I might recount in song the griefs of my heart, and of the hearts of all men, in these days of perplexity, even as he sang of his hopes in an era of youth and of faith? Song, alas, no longer survives in the heart of man, for despair sings not. And until some new beam shall descend upon the obscurity of our times, terrestrial lyres will remain mute, and mankind will pass in silence from one abyss of doubt to another, having neither loved, nor prayed, nor sang.
"But to return to the palace of David. Here the eye
rests upon the once verdant and watered valley of Jehoshaphat; a large opening in the eastern hills conducts it from steep to steep, from height to height, from undulation to undulation, even to the basin of the Dead Sea, which, in the far distance, reflects the evening sun-beams in its dull and heavy waters, giving, like the thick Venetian crystal, an unpolished and leaden tint to the light which gleams upon it. This sea is not, however, what the imagination may picture it, a petrified lake, amidst a dull and colourless horizon. It resembles one of the most beautiful lakes of Switzerland or Italy as it is seen from hence, reposing its tranquil waters beneath the shadow of the lofty mountains of Arabia (which stretch like the Alps as far as the eye can reach behind its waves), and amidst the projecting, pyramidal, conical, unequal, jagged, and sparkling ridges of the most distant mountains of Judea. Such is the view from Sion. We will now proceed.
"There is another feature in the landscape of Jerusalem, which I could wish to have indelibly engraven on my memory, although I neither draw nor paint. It is the valley of Jehoshaphat. That valley, celebrated in the traditions of three religions, in which Jews, Christians, and Mahomedans unite to place the terrible arena of Supreme judgment. That valley which has already witnessed on its confines the grandest scene of the evangelical drama; the tears, the groans, and the death of Christ. That valley which all the prophets have successively visited, sending forth a cry of bitterness and horror, with which it seems still to vibrate. That valley through which shall one day pour the awful sound of a torrent of souls about to present themselves before their God for final judgment."
What follows is part of an interior view of the holy city by the same gifted writer, and it appears to us to be instinct with devout feeling and high genius.
"Having walked down some other streets similar to those I have already described, we found ourselves in a little square, open at the north to a point of the heavens and to the Mount of Olives. A descent of a few steps to the left brought us to an open court, in which the façade of the church of the Holy Sepulchre was displayed. This church has been so often and so well described, that it is needless for me to enter upon the subject anew. It forms, especially in its exterior, a vast and beautiful monument of the Byzantine age; its architecture is severe, solemn, grand, and rich, for the period in which it was built; and it is a temple worthy of being erected, by the piety of man, over the tomb of the Son of Man. In comparing this church with others which the same epoch produced, it will be found superior to them all. St Sophia, much more colossal, is also much ruder in its structure; outwardly it is but a mountain of stone, flanked by little hills of stone. The Holy Sepulchre, on the contrary, presents an aerial and carved cupola; its scientific and graceful figure, with its doors, its windows, its capitals and cornices, displays, in addition to its massiveness, the incalculable cost of that ingenious fret-work, by which stone seems converted into lace, to render it worthy of a place in this monument erected to the grandest of human conceptions; and it bears impressed, no less on its details than on its aggregate effect, the idea to which it is dedicated. It is no longer, indeed, that church of the Holy Sepulchre constructed by Saint Helena, the mother of Constantine; the kings of Jerusalem successively retouched it, and embellished it with architectural ornaments in that half western, half Moorish style, of which the East furnished them both with the taste and with the models. But, such as it now stands, the exterior, in its Byzantine mass, its Greek, Gothic, and Arabesque decorations—even its fractures, the impress of time
rales, and barbarism upon its façade—offers no revolting contrast to the thoughts we bring to it, the thoughts it expresses. Its aspect excites no painful perception of a grand idea inadequately represented; of an exalting reminiscence profaned by the hand of man: on the contrary, the involuntary feeling inspired by it equals what I expected; man has done his best. The monument is not worthy of the tomb, but it is worthy of the human agents whose wish has been to do honour to this illustrious sepulchre; and we enter the vaulted and sombre vestibule of the nave under the influence of this first and serious impression.
"On the left of the entrance to the vestibule, which opens upon the same court as the nave, in a large deeply-hollowed niche, the Turks, the present guardians of the Holy Sepulchre, to whom belongs exclusively the privilege of opening or closing it, have established their divan, which is covered with rich Aleppo carpets; and there, when I passed, were squatted five or six venerable Turkish figures, with long white beards, their coffee-cups and pipes placed before them on the carpet. They saluted us with dignity and grace, and ordered one of the superintendents to accompany us to all parts of the church. I saw no trace in their countenances, their discourse, or their gestures, of the irreverence of which they are accused. They do not enter the church, but content themselves outside its doors, and address Christians with a seriousness and respect becoming the place and the object of visiting it. Possessors, by the vicissitude of war, of the sacred monument of the Christians, they do not destroy it and cast its ashes to the winds; they preserve it, they maintain around it an order, a police, a reverential silence, which the Christian communities, who contend for it, are far from observing themselves. They watch over the preservation of a relic common to all who bear the name of Christians, for the benefit of all, that every communion may enjoy in its turn the worship which all would gladly offer at the holy tomb. But for the Turks, that tomb, disputed by the Greeks, the Catholics, and the innumerable ramifications of the Christian world, would already have been a hundred times an object of strife between those rival and hostile communities; would have passed alternately into the exclusive possession of either party, and have been interdicted doubtless by each, during their hour of triumph, to all professors of the common faith who come not within their own pale. I see no justice in the calumnies heaped upon the Turks; the pretended brutal intolerance with which they are charged was manifested to my observation only in respect for what other men venerate and adore. Wherever a Mussulman sees the image of God in the opinions of his fellow-creatures, he bows down and he respects, persuaded that the intention sanctifies the form. They are the only tolerant people. Let Christians examine themselves, and ask in sincerity how they would have acted if the fortune of war had placed Mecca and Kaaba in their hands. Would the Turks then resort thither from all parts of Europe and of Asia, to revere, in peace, the carefully preserved monuments of Islamism?
"At the end of the vestibule we stood under the large cupola of the church, the centre of which, deemed by local tradition the centre of the earth, is occupied by a small monument enclosed within a larger, as a precious stone is encased in other minerals. It is an oblong square, adorned with pilasters, a cornice, and a cupola, all of marble; the whole of a laboured and eccentric design, and executed in bad taste. It was rebuilt in 1817, by an European architect, at the expense of the Greek church, now in possession of it. All around this interior pavilion of the sepulchre extends the space of the external cupola, within which we walk freely, and find in the intervals between the piers chapels of great depth, each assigned to one of the mysteries of Christ's passion, and all containing some testimonies, real or supposed, of the scenes of the redemption.
That part of the church which is not under the cupola is Jerusalem, divided from it by a partition of painted wood, hung with pictures of the Greek school, and is exclusively reserved for the schismatic Greeks. In spite of the singular profusion of bad paintings and ornaments of every description, with which the walls and altars are overloaded, the general effect is solemn and religious, conveying the assurance that prayer under every form has taken possession of this sanctuary, and that pious zeal has accumulated within it every object which generations of superstitious but sincere worshippers have deemed precious in the sight of God. From hence a flight of steps, cut in the rock, conducts to the summit of Calvary, where the three crosses were posted; so that Calvary, the tomb, and several other sites of the drama of redemption, are united under the roof of a single edifice of moderate dimensions; a circumstance that appears but ill to accord with the gospel histories. We are not prepared by them to find the tomb of Joseph of Arimathea, which was cut in the rock, outside the walls of Zion, fifty paces from Calvary, the scene of executions, and enclosed within the circumference of the modern walls; but such is tradition, and it has prevailed. The mind cannot dispute over a scene like this the difference of a few paces between historical probability and tradition. Whether it were here or there, it is certain the events occurred at no great distance from the points marked out. After a few moments of deep and silent meditation devoted in each of these sacred spots to the remembrances awakened, we re-descended to the body of the church, and penetrated within the interior monument, which serves as a sort of stone curtain or envelope to the sepulchre itself. This is divided into two small sanctuaries; the first containing the stone on which the angels were seated when they answered the holy women, "He is not here, he is risen;" the second and last sanctuary enclosing the sepulchre itself, but covered with a sort of sarcophagus of white marble, which surrounds and entirely conceals from the eye the actual substance of the primitive rock in which the sepulchre was cut. This sacred chapel is lighted by lamps of gold and silver, perpetually maintained; and perfumed incense is burnt there night and day, warming and embalming the air. We suffered none of the temple officials to penetrate it with us, but entered one by one, separated by a curtain of crimson silk from the first sanctuary; we chose that no witness should disturb the solemnity of the place, and the privacy of the impressions each might experience according to his individual notions, and the measure and nature of his faith in the great event which the tomb commemorates. We staid each about a quarter of an hour, and none of us left it with dry eyes. Whatever form religious sentiments may have assumed in the soul of man; whether influenced by private meditation, by the study of history, by years, or the vicissitudes of the heart and mind; whether he have retained Christianity in its literal interpretation, and in the doctrines imbibed from his parents, or is only a philosophical and spiritual Christian; whether Christ be to him a crucified God, or no more than a holy man deified by virtue, inspired by supreme truth, and dying to bear testimony to his father; whether Jesus be in his eyes the Son of God or the Son of Man, divinity incarnate or humanity deified; Christianity is still the religion of his memory, of his heart, and of his imagination; and will not have so wholly evaporated before the winds of time and life as that the soul on which it was shed shall preserve no vestige of its primitive odour, or that its fading impressions can resist the revivifying and awfully affecting influence of its birth-place, and of the visible monuments of its earliest profession. To the Christian or to the philosopher, to the moralist or to the historian, this tomb is the boundary of two worlds, the ancient and the modern. From this point issued a truth that has renewed the universe; a
Jerusalem civilization that has transformed all things; a word which has echoed over the whole globe. This tomb is the sepulchre of the old world, the cradle of the new; never was earthly stone the foundation of so vast an edifice; never was tomb so prolific; never did doctrine, inhumed for three days or three centuries, so victoriously rend the rock which man had sealed over it, and give the lie to death by so transcendent, so perpetual a resurrection.
"In my turn, and the last, I entered the Holy Sepulchre, my mind filled with these stupendous reflections, my heart touched by impressions yet more sacred, which remain a mystery between man and his soul, between the reasoning insect and his Creator. Such impressions admit not of words; they exhale with the smoke of the holy lamps, with the perfume of the censers, with the vague and confused murmur of sighs; they fall with those tears that spring to the eyes from remembrance of the first names we have lisped in infancy—of the father and the mother who inculcated them—of the brothers, the sisters, the friends with whom we have whispered them. All the pious emotions which have affected our souls in every period of life; all the prayers that have been breathed from our hearts and our lips in the name of him who taught us to pray to his Father and to ours; all the joys and griefs of which those prayers were the interpreters; are awakened in the depths of the soul, and produce, by their echoes, by their very confusion, a bewildering of the understanding, and a melting of the heart, which seek not language, but transpire in moistened eyes, a heaving breast, a prostrate forehead, and lips glued in silence to the sepulchral stone. Long did I remain in this posture, supplicating the Father of heaven, in that very spot from whence the most pathetic and comprehensive of prayers ascended for the first time to his throne; praying for my father here below, for my mother in another world, for all those who live or are no more, but our invisible link with whom is never dissolved: the communion of love always exists: the names of all the beings I have known and loved, or by whom I have been beloved, passed my lips on the stones of the Holy Sepulchre. I prayed last for myself, but ardently and devoutly. Before the tomb of him who brought the greatest portion of truth into the world, and died with the greatest self-devotion for that truth of which God has made him the word, I prayed for truth and courage. Never can I forget the words which I murmured in that hour, so critical to my moral life. Perhaps my prayer was heard; a bright ray of reason and conviction diffused itself through my understanding, giving me more clearly to distinguish light from darkness, error from truth. There are moments in the life of man, in which his thoughts, long fluctuating like the waves of a bottomless sea in vague uncertainty, touch at length upon a shore against which they break, and roll back upon themselves with new forms, and a current contrary to that which has hitherto impelled them. Was such a moment then mine? He who sounds all thoughts knows, and the time will perhaps come when I shall comprehend it. It was a mystery in my life which will hereafter be made plain."
The ancient city of Jerusalem, with the splendid structures by which it was adorned during the brilliant period of the Jewish empire, has entirely disappeared in the course of successive conquests; and although many ancient monuments, the scenes of Scripture history, are shown to travellers, it is certain that no traces remain of Jerusalem excepting the surrounding scenery, those natural features which triumph alike over time and the rage of war. One of the most splendid edifices in the modern
city is the mosque of Omar already alluded to, which is said to stand on the site of Solomon's temple. It was erected in the seventh century, by the caliph whose name it bears. It is an octagonal building, with numerous windows, surmounted by a dome in form resembling that of St Paul's in London, and about half the size. It is by far the most splendid and richest monument of architectural art in Jerusalem, or, according to Dr Clarke, in the Turkish empire, and, "considered externally," he adds, "far superior to the mosque of St Sophia in Constantinople. It has an imposing effect when seen from a distance, from the commanding situation which it occupies; and it relieves in a great degree the dull, monotonous aspect of the other streets and buildings."2 It is crowned with a cupola, which is also octagonal, having a round window of coloured glass in each of its sides; and is surmounted by a dome, formerly of gilded copper, but now of lead.3 "The lofty Saracenic pomp," says Dr Clarke, "so nobly displayed in the style of the building, its numerous arcades, its capacious dome, with all the stately decorations of the place; its extensive area paved and variegated with the choicest marbles, the extreme neatness observed in every avenue towards it; and, lastly, the sumptuous costume observable in the dresses of all the eastern devotees, passing to and from the sanctuary, make it altogether one of the finest sights the Mahomedans have to boast."4 No access into the interior is allowed to Christians, under pain of death; and when Dr Clarke urged his attendant to permit his entrance, he replied that his life would be the price of his compliance. In earlier times, however, when Jerusalem was in possession of the Crusaders, the interior of the mosque was visited by Europeans, who have described its architecture and decorations. It is entered by four large gates, richly ornamented, facing the four cardinal points, with six columns of marble and porphyry. The interior is of white marble, and the pavement inlaid with marble of different colours. Thirty-two columns of gray marble, in two rows, support the arched roof and the dome; around these columns are chandeliers gilded or of bronze, on which are seven thousand lamps which burn from Thursday at sun-set to Friday at mid-day, and constantly during the feast of Ramadan. The church of the Holy Sepulchre is another of the remarkable monuments of Jerusalem. It is said to be the scene of the crucifixion, entombment, and resurrection of our Saviour, though no evidence appears to identify the spot. Buckingham, who visited it in 1816, mentions that it was burned down in the year 1806, and has since been rebuilt in a style of architecture and decoration greatly inferior to the original. The general plan of the whole building, however, says Buckingham, and the arrangement of the holy station which it contains, are so exactly preserved, that the descriptions of the earliest visitors apply as correctly to its present state as to its former. In its appearance it resembles, according to Dr Clarke, who saw the original edifice, an ordinary Roman Catholic church. It presents in form a singular mixture of eastern and western architecture; a combination which, though it offends against the critical rules of taste, produces, according to this traveller, an agreeable effect. It is 300 feet long and nearly 200 broad, and was built by Helena, the mother of Constantine. Over the door there was in the first edifice a bas-relief, representing the entrance of Christ into Jerusalem, and the multitude strewing palm branches in the way. On entering the church, Dr Clarke was shown a slab of white marble in the pavement, surrounded by a rail, which he was told was the spot where our Sa-
1 Pilgrimage to the Holy Land, vol. ii. p. 27-35.
2 Travels through Palestine, p. 205.
3 Chateaubriand, Itinéraire de Paris à Jérusalem, vol. ii. p. 370.
4 Travels in Greece, Egypt, and the Holy Land, vol. ii. p. 602.
...aviour's body had been anointed by Joseph of Arimathea. There is not the slightest proof of the identity of any of these holy places; but the authority of these legends is still kept up as a device for exacting money from the travellers and pilgrims who visit this celebrated city. The interior of this strange fabric is divided into two parts. The first is a kind of ante-chapel, on entering which, the visitors are shown, before the mouth of the sepulchre, a block of white marble, on which it is affirmed that the angel sat after the Saviour was laid in the tomb. The sepulchre itself is composed of thick slabs of that beautiful breccia commonly called verd-antique marble; and the entrance is rugged and broken, owing to so many fragments being carried off as relics. The interior of the original edifice was adorned with Corinthian columns of fine marble; but these being destroyed by the fire, the dome is now supported by tall and slender square pillars of masonry, plastered on the outside, and placed so thickly together as to produce the worst effect. The mean architecture of the central dome, and of the whole rotunda which surrounds the sepulchre itself, can only, says Buckingham, be exceeded by the wretched taste of its painted decorations. The attention of this last traveller was attracted by the capitals of two very large pillars, evidently very ancient. They were placed on two short, thick shafts, and serve to support the roof of a grotto in which the holy cross is said to have been found by St Helena. For every incident in the history of the Saviour's death and resurrection there is in this church a suitable locality. The place is pointed out where Christ was derided by the soldiers; where the soldiers divided his garments; where he was nailed to the cross, &c.; to all which miserable inventions implicit credit is attached by the credulous multitude who seek admission to the Holy Sepulchre. This place is the scene of the most impious extravagancies and absurdities, in which the Greek and Latin Christians equally participate during their festivals at Easter; and they frequently contend with each other, even to the shedding of their blood, for the privilege of first entering in to celebrate mass. In the galleries round the church are small buildings, containing apartments for the reception of friars and pilgrims; and almost every Christian nation maintained here a society of monks. But these, owing to the severe extortions of the Turks, have many of them deserted the holy city, though the Greeks and Latins, and also some Armenians, Copts, and Abyssinians still remain. Lamps are continually kept burning in the sepulchre. The last and most important monument which is shown is the tomb itself where Christ's body is said to have lain, another of those delusions which seem to form the staple manufacture of the holy city. Vast crowds nevertheless resort to visit the sepulchre; and Buckingham observes that his stay there was very short. "The crowds," he says, "pressing at the door; the smallness of the aperture at the entrance; the confined space within, hung round with crimson damask, and ornamented with silver lamps and painting; the hurry and bustle occasioned by the worshippers searching for their shoes left at the door, as every one went in barefooted; the struggles to be the first to get near enough to kiss the marble; and sometimes the forcibly putting off the turbans of those who might have forgotten to uncover their heads; presented altogether a scene of such confusion, that, added to the risk of suffocation in so impure an atmosphere, it drove us by rapidly to make room for others." The Holy Sepulchre, after having been for some time the most honoured sanctuary of the Christians, became a heathen altar, where pagan rites were celebrated. The Turks, who now possess it, suffer the tomb of the Messiah to remain unmolested, in consideration of the money paid to them by the Christian pilgrims for the privilege of visiting it. About forty paces from the sepulchre, beneath the roof of the same church, and on the
same level, are shown two rooms, one above another. Close Jerusalem. by the entrance into the lower chamber or chapel, were formerly the tombs of Godfrey of Bouillon, and of Baldwin, kings of Jerusalem. But these, we are informed by Buckingham, have been spitefully destroyed by the rival sect of the Greeks, so that not a vestige of them remains to mark even the spot on which they stood. At the extremity of the chapel is a fissure or cleft in the natural rock, said to have taken place in consequence of the earthquake that occurred at the crucifixion. This spot is narrated as Mount Calvary, the place of our Saviour's passion; and here, upon a contracted piece of masonry, are shown the marks of the three crosses on which Christ suffered, along with the two thieves. "After this," says Dr Clarke, "the traveller may be conducted through such a farrago of absurdities, that it is wonderful the learned men who have described Jerusalem should have filled their pages with any serious detail of them."
There is no evidence, however, to prove the identity of these holy places with the events of which they are supposed to have been the scene. It cannot, as is said, be Mount Calvary, for there is no mount; and in order to explain away this glaring inconsistency, it is affirmed that Mount Calvary was levelled to make way for the foundations of a church; that the sepulchre of Christ alone remained after the levelling had taken place, in the centre of the area; and that this was encased with marble; "not a syllable of which," says Dr Clarke, "is supported by any existing evidence offered in the contemplation of what is now called the tomb." Dr Clarke, denying that the places described to be Mount Calvary and the scene of the crucifixion had any claim to be so considered, was of opinion that he had discovered the real site where these great events took place. Having quitted the city of Jerusalem by the seven gates, and descended into a dingle or trench called Tophet or Gehinnom, he discovered, as he reached the bottom of the narrow dale, upon the sides of the opposite mountains, a number of excavations in the rock, which exhibited a series of subterranean chambers hewn with marvellous art, and containing repositories for the dead carved upon the sides of the solid rock. The doors were so low that it was necessary to stoop in order to procure an entrance, and to creep, in some instances, on the hands and knees; the doors were also grooved for the reception of immense stones, once squared and fitted for the grooves, by way of closing the entrances. These cemeteries are works of such labour and magnificence, that they might justly be considered as the sepulchres of kings. One, however, appears to have been constructed for a single individual; and from this circumstance, and from their being situated without the city, Dr Clarke concludes that here was the sepulchre of Joseph of Arimathea, and the place where our Lord was crucified; which was, according to the concurring testimony of all the evangelists, "the place of a skull," or a public cemetery, in the Hebrew, Golgotha. There are Greek inscriptions over the doors of these sepulchres, one of which is "of the Holy Sion." Continuing his researches further eastward along this dingle, and in the place called Aeldama, other ancient sepulchres were discovered by Dr Clarke, containing inscriptions and ancient paintings, executed after the manner of those found on the walls of Herculaneum and Pompeii; excepting that the figures represented were those of the apostles, the virgin, &c. with circular lines as symbols of glory encompassing their heads. These paintings were on the sides and on the roof of each sepulchral chamber; and although much injured by the Arabs or Turks, they still preserved a wonderful freshness of colour. These tombs are not nearly so ancient as those that were first noticed, being evidently constructed by Christians, after the dispersion, as Dr Clarke conjectures, of the Jews during the reign of Had-
Jerusalem. At the foot of the Mount of Olives, on the east side of the brook Kedron, are the "sepulchre of the virgin," and those of the "patriarchs." The first is a cave hewn out with surprising skill and labour, in a rock of hard limestone, and is of great antiquity. The descent into this receptacle for the dead is by a flight of fifty marble steps, each of them twenty feet wide; within is a lofty and spacious vault, the largest of the cryptæ near Jerusalem, containing the tombs, real or imaginary, of the Virgin, of Joseph, of Anna, and of Caiaphas, with appropriate chapels to each. History throws no light upon the origin of this monument of human labour; and Dr Clarke, after the most careful examination, confesses himself unable to assign any probable era for its construction. The "sepulchres of the patriarchs" face that part of Jerusalem where the temple of Solomon was formerly erected. No representation has ever been given of these remarkable monuments that conveys an adequate idea of their grandeur. Their massive structure, the boldness of their design, and their sombre hue, as well as that of the surrounding rocks, impart to them a certain air of grandeur and sublimity, which is lost in the representation. In order to form two of these sepulchres, namely, those which are called the sepulchres of Absalom and Zechariah, the solid substance of the mountain has been cut away, and a sufficient area having in this manner been excavated, two monuments of prodigious size appear in the midst, cut out of an entire block of stone, and adorned with columns that appear to support the edifice. These columns are in the ancient style of the Doric order. The date of them has never yet been determined, nor by what people they have been erected. They are a continuation of one vast cemetery, extending along the base of all the mountainous elevations which surround Jerusalem on its southern and eastern sides; and whilst they are monuments of prodigious labour, such as were erected in those times by despotic kings, who could command labour to any extent, they also evince great progress in the arts, and, according to Dr Clarke, must have been the work of a powerful and flourishing people. There are other sepulchres to the northwest of Jerusalem, by the Damascus gate, which are minutely described by Maundrell.1 An entrance cut out of the natural rock leads into an open court of about forty paces square; at the end of this court is a portico nine paces long and four broad, hewn out of the natural rock. An architrave running along its front, and sculptured with fruits and flowers in a light and airy style, is still discernible, though much defaced. At the end of the portico is the passage into the sepulchres, which consist of seven chambers cut out of the natural rock, and about seven or eight yards square, and exactly regular and just. In one of these was found the lid of a white marble coffin, exquisitely sculptured. It is mentioned by Maundrell, that he found one of the doors of the chambers of ash and of stone, and about six inches thick, still hanging; and it turned upon its hinges, which were also of stone. All knowledge of the origin of these singular structures is lost in remote antiquity, and the conjectures of travellers on the subject seem to be futile and vain.
Chateaubriand endeavours to prove that this was the tomb of Herod the tetrarch. Buckingham, however, considers his reasons as being far from conclusive; and, objecting also to the theories of Pococke and Clarke, he observes, "that, considering the changes of masters which Jerusalem has suffered, and the consequent variation in the taste of its possessors, it is at this moment a matter of extreme difficulty to separate the monuments of high antiquity from those of a more modern age, or to decide what parts of
their remains preserve their original form, and what parts have been subsequently altered or ornamented by later hands." Such are the different impressions made by the same objects, that the last traveller, in reference to the observations of Dr Clarke, remarks, "that though this is the largest, the most extensive, and the most interesting of the monuments he had visited, there is not one which can be called either 'enormous' or 'splendid,' without the strangest abuse of terms." "The Jews," says M. de Lamartine, "had no architecture of their own; they borrowed from Egypt, from Greece, but more particularly, I think, from India. The key of every thing is in India; the generation of ideas and arts appears to me to go back there; they created Assyria, Chaldea, Mesopotamia, Syria; the great cities of the desert, as Balbec; then Egypt, then the islands of Crete and Cyprus; then Etruria, then Rome; then night came on, and Christianity, cradled at first by the Platonic philosophy, and afterwards by the barbarous ignorance of the middle ages, gave birth to our civilization and our modern arts."2 Such is a specimen of the theories in which not only imaginative poets, but even sober, matter-of-fact travellers, are sometimes prone to indulge.
The ancient city of Jerusalem was so entirely destroyed that nothing remained by which the original plan could be traced, and hence the controversies still maintained among the learned respecting its localities. The more durable features of nature, however, still remain. From history we learn that the ancient city stood upon four eminences, with one very deep valley and two smaller ones dividing them. The most conspicuous of these eminences was that of Zion, called the Holy Hill, and the citadel of David to the south of the city. To the north of Zion was the hill of Acra; and on the east the third eminence, Mount Moriah, upon which was built the temple. It was bounded by the sepulchral caves on the north, by Mount Zion on the south, by the brook Kedron, which runs through the valley of Jehoshaphat, on the east, beyond which was the Mount of Olives, and by the hill of Acra on the west. There seems to be considerable uncertainty about the identity of these hills, though the Mount of Olives, covered with olive trees, still vindicates its origin; and the brook Kedron, receiving from its fountains, which yet abound in excellent water, the rivulet, or the dirty little brook, as Buckingham calls it, of Siloam, flows through the valley of Jehoshaphat; and the valley of Hinnom divides Mount Zion from Mount Moriah.
Jerusalem has long been celebrated as one of the holy places of the Christians, and has not only been the resort of numerous pilgrims, but the permanent residence of monks and Christians from various countries, such as the Latins, Greeks, Armenians, and Copts, who each of them have here a monastery and a church. The Latin convent of St Salvador is a large, irregular building, like a fortress, with courts and galleries within, and some small spaces of garden-land without, forming a safe retreat in time of intestine trouble. It is entered from a hilly street, by a large iron-cased door, beneath an overhanging building, which darkens the passage, and gives an air of gloom to the whole. Beyond this is a small open paved court below, with other still darker passages leading to the first flight of stairs. These being ascended, a range of galleries, winding in various directions, leads to the private apartments and domestic offices of the convent; and courts beyond, and terraces above, afford sufficient space for walks both morning and evening, with a commanding view of all Jerusalem and the surrounding country. In this edifice, Dr Clarke mentions that he was received by a body of the most corpulent friars he had ever beheld, who resembled the figures brought in
1 Journey from Aleppo to Jerusalem, p. 76, 77.
2 Pilgrimage to the Holy Land, vol. ii. p. 60.
Jerusalem. this country upon the stage by way of burlesquing the monkish character.
The friars are of the Franciscan order, who are under a vow of perpetual poverty, and live by alms. They are furnished with a bed and bedding, a table, wash-hand basin and jug, a lamp, a crucifix, and a chair, at the expense of the church, to which they may add other conveniences from their own funds. This convent of Jerusalem is called, by way of distinction, "Il Convento della Terra Santa," and is at the head of all the Catholic establishments throughout the Holy Land. It is recruited with monks from Naples, Sicily, and from the south of Spain, who, according to the account of Buckingham, are extremely discontented, and complain much of their banishment to this remote spot. The superior is immediately dependent on the pope; and the funds of the institution are supplied chiefly from Rome, aided by donations from other Catholic countries. The liberality of Ferdinand, king of Spain, was particularly extolled; and even the prince regent of England, afterwards George IV., had sent a gift of £1500. The establishment of the convent consists of eighty-eight persons, who all mess together. The fast-days of the church are regularly observed; and the daily services of prayers and of masses, which are frequent and tedious. The morning hour of service is five; coffee is made at this hour, of which they all partake; they dine at ten, and sleep till past noon. There is no restriction at any time in the allowance of bread, wine, and vegetables, all of which are excellent. The monks are clothed once in two years, with an under garment, and outer cloak of dark-brown cloth, with the white knitted cord of St. Francis, with which it is understood that they are to flagellate themselves for their sins. Strangers properly recommended, and especially if it is thought they can protect the convent, by their influence, from the exactions of the Turks, which are often heavy, are hospitably entertained in a room allotted for them. The monastery possesses considerable funds and stores. Dr. Clarke was regaled with coffee, lemonade, and excellent tea, which was served profusely in bowls. The apartments are all paved with stone; and there are no less than twenty-two wells of excellent water within the walls. The discipline is strict, and implicit obedience is exacted by the superior, under pain of excommunication. All the inferior convents in Palestine and Syria are subject to this metropolitan convent: they are supplied from its funds when voluntary contributions fail; and all appointments are made by the superior. The church of the convent is not remarkable for size or beauty, though it is gaudily furnished with gilded candlesticks, censers, images, &c. and has a fine altar and an organ. The Greek monastery consists of many small establishments, which are said to be well supported. The church is partly subterranean, and is small and mean, the Greeks bestowing all their wealth on the decoration of the Holy Sepulchre. The Armenian convent is distinguished above all others for neatness and comfort, and for the cheerful aspect of the place. This edifice, with its church and gardens, occupies that point of the supposed Mount Zion that is within the city. The establishment is well provided with every comfort; its funds, contributed entirely by rich individuals, are superior to those of the other convents; and all Armenian worshippers and pilgrims are maintained here during their stay in the holy city. The church, which is supposed, according to the traditions current in Jerusalem, to be built on the spot where James the brother of John was killed with the sword, has a gorgeous and imposing appearance. Though small, it is lofty; the walls are everywhere covered with pictures, executed in the worst taste, yet, from their profusion and gay colouring, producing an agreeable effect. The pillars, as well as the portals of the door and the inner walls, are all cased with porcelain tiles,
painted blue, with crosses and other devices; and the mosaic pavement is the most beautiful of its kind. The whole is carefully covered with rich Turkey carpets, excepting only a small space before the altar. To the left is a small recess, the pretended spot where St. James was beheaded. It is ornamented with white marble sculpture, massy silver lamps, gilding and painting, which produces a surprising richness of effect. The door is even more beautiful, being composed entirely of tortoise-shell, mother-of-pearl, gold, and silver, all so exquisitely inlaid, that the skill of the workman seems to vie with the costliness and beauty of the materials. The altars, which front the door of the entrance, are all splendid; and the massy vessels, crosses, mitres, and candlesticks, of gold and silver, flowers, gems, and precious stones, have an appearance of splendour and richness which cannot be excelled. The Jews have a synagogue in a low and obscure street near the centre of the town, which is a large suite of subterranean rooms lighted by small windows. Here Mr. Buckingham and Mr. Bankes saw worship performed on the Jewish sabbath.
The population of Jerusalem is estimated, though not upon any accurate data, at between 20,000 and 30,000. The Mahomedans are the most numerous; and these consist of nearly equal portions of Osmanlee Turks from Asia Minor, descendants of pure Turks by blood, but Arabians by birth; a mixture of Turkish and Arab blood by intermarriages; and pure Syrian Arabs of an unmixed race. The few Europeans in Jerusalem consist only of the monks of the Catholic convent, and the still fewer Latin pilgrims who visit them. The Greeks are the most numerous. The Armenians are the next in order; and the inferior sects of Copts, Abyssinians, Syrians, Nestorians, Maronites, Chaldeans, &c. are scarcely perceptible in the crowd. The Jews amount to 1000 males and 3000 females; a great number of widows resorting to the holy city, where they are maintained by their own community. Their great happiness is to die at Jerusalem, and to be buried in the valley of Jehoshaphat. Though the Jews come from the most distant parts, they are easily distinguished by their dress and their physiognomy, which, says Buckingham, is "strikingly natural." The city is most populous from Christmas to Easter, and at the latter festival it is crowded, and exhibits a singular variety of costumes and languages. The only manufacture which flourishes at Jerusalem is that of crucifixes, chaplets, beads, crosses, shells, and relics, of which whole cargoes are shipped off for Italy, Portugal, and Spain. From the general sterility of the surrounding country, during the parching droughts of summer, every article of food is dear, and wages are high. The force usually maintained here consists of a thousand troops, Turks, Arabs, and Albanians.
Jerusalem is said to have been founded in the year of the world 2023, and at that time to have occupied only the two hills of Moriah and Acre. Fifty years after its foundation, it was taken by the Jebusites, descendants of Jebus, the son of Canaan, who built a fortress on Mount Zion, and gave to it the name of their father. Joshua made himself master of the lower town of Jerusalem, whilst the Jebusites remained masters of the citadel, from which they were dislodged by David, 824 years after the building of the city. David enlarged the citadel, and built a palace near it; and during the prosperous reign of Solomon the city was embellished by the celebrated temple. Palestine was afterwards invaded by the kings of Egypt, of Assyria, and, finally, by the king of Babylon; and by the latter, after having been previously plundered, it was utterly destroyed, and the Jews were carried away captive to Babylon. This happened in the year of the world 3513, about 600 years before the Christian era, 466½ years after the foundation of the temple by Solomon. After the conquest of Babylon by Cyrus, permission was given to the Jews to return to their