From a Drawing by Mr. F. E. Blackstone.

RANGE OF HERMON NEAR BANIAS, OR CÆSAREA PHILIPPI, AT THE MAIN SOURCE OF THE JORDAN.
The Probable Scene of our Lord’s Transfiguration.

“Those Holy Fields.”

PALESTINE,

ILLUSTRATED BY PEN AND PENCIL.

BY THE

REV. SAMUEL MANNING, LL.D.,

AUTHOR OF “ITALIAN PICTURES,” “SWISS PICTURES,” AND

“SPANISH PICTURES.”

“Those holy fields,

Over whose acres walked those blessed feet

Which fourteen hundred years ago were nailed,

For our advantage, on the bitter cross.”

LONDON:

THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY;

56, PATERNOSTER ROW; 65, ST. PAUL’S CHURCHYARD;

AND 164, PICCADILLY.

BRIGHTON: 31, WESTERN ROAD MANCHESTER: 100, CORPORATION STREET.

PREFACE

The journey of which a brief account is given in the following pages was undertaken in the early part of 1873. The object of the writer was to compare the Land and the Book, and by an examination of the topography of Palestine to illustrate the histories of Scripture. Had any doubt existed in his own mind as to the veracity of those histories, it must have been dispelled by the minute agreement which he traced between the indications of the narrative and the physical geography of the country. No “fable,” however “cunningly devised,” no myth or legend coming into existence at a later age, could have adapted itself so precisely to the topographical details of the scene. The main design of the present volume has been to trace these coincidences, and thus to elucidate and confirm the biblical narrative. Whilst he has availed himself of all the help he could gain from the writings of former travellers, he has in no case depended upon them, but endeavoured, by a personal and careful inspection of the sites, to arrive at an independent and accurate conclusion.

In the Illustrations, which form so large a part of the present volume, fidelity rather than artistic effect has been aimed at. Many of the engravings are from drawings made on the spot, but a greater number are from photographs. Those of Messrs. Bergheim and Nicodemus of Jerusalem, and Madame Bonfils of Beyrout, have been largely used for this purpose; and the writer desires to express his gratitude for the liberality with which the Committee of the Palestine Exploration Fund have placed their admirable series at his disposal.

The Maps are enlarged by permission of Messrs. W. and A. Keith Johnston, from their Royal Atlas Map of Syria, which for correctness and fulness of detail is worthy of the high reputation they have long enjoyed as chartographers.

List of Illustrations.

SOUTHERN PALESTINE,
OR JUDÆA.

SOUTHERN PALESTINE, OR JUDÆA.

Enlarged by permission from Keith Johnston’s Map.

SOUTHERN PALESTINE, OR JUDÆA.

SOUTHERN PALESTINE, OR JUDÆA.

JAFFA TO HEBRON.

A REEF of sharp jagged rocks, over which the surf breaks fiercely, runs parallel with the shore, forming a natural breakwater. Inside the reef the water is smooth enough, but too shallow to admit anything except fishing-boats and small coasting-craft. The harbour has silted up by the sand-drift from Arabian and African deserts, so that steamers and sea-going vessels must anchor outside. Jaffa, a town of four thousand inhabitants, picturesque at a distance, as all Eastern towns are, stands on the slope of a hill and comes close down to the beach. It is encircled by a broad belt of gardens and orange groves. A rich fertile plain stretches for ten or twelve miles inland. Then a range of hills bounds the view.

EASTERN WATER-SELLER.

This ancient port was famous both in legend and history. It is the site of the fabled rescue of Andromeda by Perseus, and the city is declared by Pliny to have been standing before the Flood. The cedar-wood for building the Temple was sent hither by Hiram, king of Tyre.[^[1]] Here Jonah, “flying from the presence of the Lord,” found a ship about to sail to Tarshish, “so he paid the fare thereof, and went down into it.”[^[2]] Somewhere within the circuit of those grey walls, “widows stood weeping and showing the coats and garments which Dorcas had made whilst she was yet with them.” And amongst the tan-pits on the shore once stood, perhaps still stands, the house of Simon the Tanner, where Peter was taught by vision that Jewish exclusiveness was to end, and that henceforth he should “call nothing common or unclean.”[^[3]] It is our first view of that land,

“Over whose acres walked those blessed feet

Which eighteen hundred years ago were nailed,

For our advantage on the bitter cross.”

JAFFA FROM THE NORTH.

A number of boats, manned by half-naked Arabs, howling, yelling, and fighting like demons, cluster round the steamer. In one of them, retained for the use of our party, the fight is so fierce that our dragoman leaps down into it, and lays about him right and left with his heavy korbash. This proving of no avail, he seizes one of the Arabs by the throat, and throws him into the sea, to sink or swim as it may happen. Order being at length restored, we take our seats in the boat, are skilfully steered through a gap in the reef, and soon find ourselves at the foot of some black slimy steps, leading to the Turkish custom-house. A crowd of wretched creatures press round us, clamouring for backshish. The unpaved road is ankle deep in mud. Foul sights, and yet fouler smells, offend the senses. To most of my companions the sight was altogether new and strange. For myself, having had some previous experience of the filth and squalor of an Oriental town, I was not taken by surprise. But the disenchantment of the rest of the party, as they first set foot on the soil of Palestine, was complete. One American gentleman, who had come prepared to go into ecstasies, and had avowed his intention of falling on his knees on landing, to express his gratitude for being permitted to tread the sacred soil, looked round with a comical expression of bewilderment, and exclaimed, “Is this the Holy Land?”

Picking our way through a tortuous labyrinth of dismal alleys, we found our tents pitched outside the town. The camping ground is a spot of rare beauty. The Mediterranean, of a clear crystalline blue, studded with white sails, rolls up upon the beach. The long coast-line of Philistia runs north and south. Groves of orange, lemon, citron, fig, and pomegranate, vineyards and gardens, the produce of which is famous throughout Syria, form a broad belt round the city. The plain of Sharon, bright with verdure and enamelled with flowers, stretches inland. The mountains of Ephraim, blue against the eastern sky, form a beautiful frame for a lovely picture. It was easy to understand how a name meaning “the beautiful” should have been borne by the town for three thousand years.

The traditional house of Simon the Tanner furnishes, from its flat roof, a fine point of view for this charming scene. And there is reason to believe that the tradition is not far wrong. The house is “by the sea-side;”[^[4]] the waves beat against the wall of its courtyard. An ancient well, fed by a perennial spring, furnishes the water needful for the tanner’s trade; and tanneries of immemorial antiquity probably go back to the time of Peter’s visit or even earlier. The vision here vouchsafed to the Apostle gains a new appropriateness on this spot. Joppa has always been the port of Jerusalem. It is, indeed, the only port of Southern Palestine. Thence “the ships of Tarshish” were seen coming and going. The “isles of Chittim” (Cyprus) lie just below the horizon. It was the point at which the Jewish and Gentile world came into contact. Peter looking out over the waters of “the Great Sea” towards Greece and Rome, where the gospel was to win its greatest victories, would be at no loss to apply the lesson taught by the vision.

The history of Tabitha is fondly remembered by the people of Joppa. Tabitha or Dorcas (i.e. the gazelle) is partly a personal name—partly a term of endearment. An annual festival is still celebrated on the 25th of May, when the young people go out into the orange-groves around the town and spend the day in a sort of pic-nic, singing hymns and ballads in her honour.

In modern times Jaffa has acquired a sad notoriety from the infamous massacre of his prisoners, and the alleged poisoning of his plague-stricken troops by Napoleon Bonaparte. The spot is yet pointed out where, amongst the sand-hills on the beach, four thousand Turkish and Albanian troops, who had surrendered as prisoners of war, were shot down in cold blood.

JAFFA FROM THE SEA.

Passing out from the town we cross the Plain of Sharon, the exquisite fertility and beauty of which made it to the Hebrew mind a symbol of prosperity. “The excellency of Carmel and Sharon”[^[5]] was proverbial. “The earth mourneth and languisheth” when “Sharon is like a wilderness.”[^[6]] When the Most High shall again “bring forth a seed out of Jacob and out of Judah an inheritor of my mountains,” its first result will be that once more “Sharon shall be a fold for flocks.”[^[7]] In the Song of songs, “I am the Rose of Sharon,”[^[8]] is the symbol to express the highest ideal of grace and beauty. As we rode across the plain, bright with the vivid green of early spring, and plucked handfuls of the innumerable flowers—cyclamens, anemones, roses, lilies, tulips and a score of others—which gemmed the turf or grew “unprofitably gay” amongst the corn, we could enter into the feelings of Hebrew poets and prophets as they exulted in “the glory of Sharon.” But where were the inhabitants? This fertile plain which might support an immense population is almost a solitude. Two or three wretched hamlets, mere clusters of mud huts, are the sole representatives of the numerous and thriving cities which once occupied it.[^[9]] Here and there was a solitary Arab breaking up the clods with a plough which remains unchanged in form from the earliest ages. These were the only signs of life we could discover. Day by day we were to learn afresh the lesson now forced upon us, that the denunciations of ancient prophecy have been fulfilled to the very letter,—“the land is left void and desolate and without inhabitants.”[^[10]] Within the last few years, however, there has been an improvement in some parts of the plain, arising from the establishment of a German agricultural colony near Jaffa, of a model farm supported by a society in London, and the acquisition of a considerable tract of land by Messrs. Bergheim of Jerusalem. The German colonists retain, unchanged, the dress and manners of their fatherland, and it is not a little curious to meet a bevy of fair-haired, blue-eyed, red-cheeked damsels driven by a Silesian peasant in a genuine einspanner, in a district made memorable by the exploits of Samson against the Philistines.

PLOUGHING IN PALESTINE.

RAMLEH.

Three hours from Jaffa stands Ramleh, which has been identified with the Ramah of the Old Testament and the Arimathea of the New, but without sufficient authority. Its chief object of interest is a magnificent tower, resembling the famous Giralda of Seville, quite perfect, which rises from the ruins of an ancient khan. From the summit a superb view is gained. To the east are seen the mountains of Israel, bare and monotonous, but not without a certain impressiveness. Westward the Mediterranean stretches to the verge of the horizon. All around lies the plain of Sharon. On the slope of a hill about three miles distant stands a little white-walled village, conspicuous by a lofty ruined tower. It is the Lod of the Old Testament, Lydda of the New.[^[11]] Here Peter “found a certain man named Æneas, who had kept his bed eight years, and was sick of the palsy. And Peter said unto him, Æneas, Jesus Christ maketh thee whole: arise, and make thy bed. And he arose immediately.” Here, too, he received the request of the saints at Joppa to visit them in their trouble at the death of Dorcas. As the road has remained unchanged from the earliest times, we can trace the whole route by which the sorrowing disciples came and the apostle returned with them. In hagiology, Lydda is distinguished as the birth-place of St. George, the patron saint of England. The Church, the ruins of which are visible from a distance, was destroyed by Saladin, and restored by Richard Cœur de Lion.

GERMAN COLONY NEAR JAFFA, WITH THE PLAIN OF SHARON AND THE MOUNTAINS OF EPHRAIM.

Soon after leaving Ramleh the road begins to ascend and the country grows wilder. We are approaching the elevated plateau on which Jerusalem stands, two thousand six hundred feet above the level of the sea. Up to the time of David the whole maritime plain over which we have been riding was held by the Philistines. The defiles and passes we are now about to enter formed the marches—the debatable ground, the possession of which was contested inch by inch during successive generations. A little to the north of us stood the city of Ekron, whither the Ark of God was brought from Ashdod. We can trace the path by which the milch-kine, yoked to the new cart on which the Ark was laid, left their calves behind them and “went along the highway, lowing as they went, and turned not aside to the right hand or to the left; and the lords of the Philistines went after them unto the border of Beth-shemesh. And they of Beth-shemesh were reaping their wheat harvest in the valley: and they lifted up their eyes, and saw the Ark, and rejoiced to see it.”[^[12]] The names of Ekron and Beth-shemesh are easily identified in Akir and Ain-shems. As we saw the green slopes of the hills with their fields of wheat and barley, and the labourers in the busy light of the declining sun, it was easy to realise the whole scene. Tracing the history step by step and noting how the localities exactly fell into the requirements of the narrative, it was impossible not to be struck by the precise accordance of the one with the other. The land and the book formed a perfect illustration of one another.

LYDDA.

Two traditional sites are now passed—El Latron, the name of which is said to be derived from its having been the abode of the penitent thief, and Amwâs, the ancient Nicopolis, long regarded as the Emmaus of the New Testament.[^[13]] Though the identity of the latter site was for a thousand years unquestioned, and has recently been reasserted by the high authority of Dr. Robinson, it seems to me to be quite untenable. Its distance from Jerusalem is too great. The evangelist fixes it at “three score furlongs;” Amwâs is a hundred and sixty. Robinson assumes an error in the MSS., for which there is no authority; nor is it credible that the disciples should have visited Jerusalem and returned hither in the same day, as the narrative requires, making a distance of forty miles.

AMWÁS, OR NICOPOLIS, THE TRADITIONAL SITE OF EMMAUS.

Just as the sun was setting we found ourselves on the summit of a hill. Below us was a tangle and labyrinth of valleys running one into another. On the opposite hill the sun was resting before he “hasted to go down.” Our camp was pitched on the edge of a brook in the bottom of the valley where mists and shadows were already gathering thick and heavy. It was the Valley of Ajalon, where Joshua commanded the sun to stand still. Again the topography illustrated and confirmed the narrative. Joshua, encamped at Gilgal in the valley of the Jordan, received intelligence that five kings of the Amorites had attacked the Gibeonites with whom he had just before made an alliance,[^[14]] and who demanded instant succour. “Slack not thy hand from thy servants; come up to us quickly and save us and help us.” Though only just before the army had required three days to reach the city,[^[15]] Joshua at once ordered a forced march which he accomplished in the course of a single night. He found the Amorites besieging Gibeon, the site of which is marked by the village of Geeb, some distance to the north-east of where we stand. Taken by surprise at this sudden and unlooked-for attack, they were “discomfited,” “slain with a great slaughter,” and “chased along the way that goeth up to Beth-horon,” now, Beit ’Ur el-Foka, Beth-horon the upper, on the summit of a hill looking over the plain of Sharon. Here they seem to have made a stand, but were driven down the steep rocky declivity leading to the lower Beth-horon, now Beit ’Ur et-Tahta, at the foot of the ravine. As in wild panic they were rushing down the precipitous descent, a hailstorm, perhaps, accompanied by a fall of meteoric stones, added to their confusion and dismay. Slipping and falling from rock to rock, the discomfited host endeavoured to escape along the valleys below us, hotly pursued by the victorious army. The kings took refuge in a cave, the entrance to which was blocked up by the pursuers who still pressed on after the flying foe. The sun had reached his meridian and stood over Gibeon, the pale crescent moon over Ajalon. Will the shades of evening close upon them when the victory is incomplete, giving opportunity to the Amorites to escape among the defiles which run in every direction, or to rally in the darkness? “Then spake Joshua to the Lord ... and he said in the sight of Israel, Sun, stand thou still upon Gibeon; and thou, Moon, in the valley of Ajalon. And the sun stood still, and the moon stayed, until the people had avenged themselves upon their enemies.” The victory was complete; the kings were brought out from the hiding-place and slain. “And Joshua returned, and all Israel with him, unto the camp at Gilgal.”[^[16]]

Soon after leaving the valley of Ajalon we reach the village of Kuryet-el-enab, better known at the present day as Abu-Gosh, from the robber chief who for nearly a quarter of a century kept the Turkish power at bay, and levied blackmail on the whole district. It is identified with tolerable certainty as the ancient Kirjath-Jearim (the city of forests), though the forests from which it took its name have long since disappeared. Originally a city of the Gibeonites,[^[17]] it subsequently became one of the border towns marking the frontier between Judah and Benjamin. It is in consequence frequently mentioned in the mapping out and allotment of the land by Joshua.[^[18]] The accuracy of what has been well called “The Doomsday Book of the Israelites” is shown by the fact that these ancient records still afford invaluable aid in settling the topography of Palestine. At Kirjath-Jearim the Ark rested for twenty years after being recovered from the hands of the Philistines and before its removal to Jerusalem by David. It was in this “city of forests” that the royal psalmist found it in “the fields of the wood” and brought it with songs of praise to the place he had prepared for its reception.[^[19]] It was very interesting to read the narrative of the bringing hither of the Ark and compare it with the surrounding scenery. “And the men of Kirjath-Jearim came, and fetched up the Ark of the Lord, and brought it into the house of Abinadab in the hill.” The village stands on the slope of a hill trending down towards Ain-Shems, the ancient Beth-Shemesh. A hill rises above the town, and the ruins of an ancient church which stands on its summit may not improbably mark the site of “the house of Abinadab.”

WOMEN OF THE HILL COUNTRY OF JUDÆA.

WADY ES-SUMT AND KULÔNIA.

[From a Sketch by Mr. F. E. Blackstone.

Shortly after leaving Abu-Gosh we descend into a broad deep valley, the Wady es-Sumt, enclosed by rounded hills, terraced and covered with olives to the very summit. A brook, swollen by winter rains into a torrent, brawls over a bed of pebbles brought down by it from the rocks above. It is the Valley of Elah, along which the hosts of the Amorites fled after their defeat at Beth-horon, and where the ruddy stripling from Bethlehem confronted and slew the giant of Gath.[^[20]] The hills curve round, forming an amphitheatre, in which, as “the Philistines stood on a mountain on one side and Israel stood on a mountain on the other, and there was a valley between them,” the hostile armies would be able to watch the combat between their chosen champions. Bethlehem is only about ten miles distant, and the young shepherd boy, who “rose up early in the morning and left the sheep with a keeper,” could easily reach the spot in time to see “the battle set in array,” and hear the defiant challenge of the Philistine. Shocoh is represented by the village of Shuweikeh; Azekah is probably the modern Tell Zakarîya; and Gath lies at no great distance on the way down to Ekron. David, returning to Bethlehem by the main road would pass through or near Jerusalem, at that time in the hands of the Jebusites; hence the statement which has caused some perplexity to commentators, that “he took the head of the Philistine and brought it” thither.

Leaving the valley of Elah on the way to Jerusalem the eye is arrested by a white-walled village standing on the slope of the hill, a little way off the road, but visible from it. Travellers going thither from Jerusalem must turn aside as “they draw nigh unto it”; others “who would go farther,” continue along the road, leaving it on the right. It is now called Kulon or Kulônia, and at least a probable conjecture regards it as Emmaus.[^[21]] Though there is no direct evidence of the fact, yet it fulfils all the requirements of the narrative, which, as we have seen, the traditional site fails to do. We know from Josephus that there was an Emmaus in this neighbourhood, and that a Roman garrison was stationed there. The modern name of Kulônia may not improbably represent the Colonia, or Roman settlement. Assuming the identification to be correct, we now, for the first time, find ourselves in the actual footsteps of Him whose “name is above every name.” Tender, sacred, sublime, as are all the associations of the Holy Land, they must yield to thoughts of Him who was David’s son and yet his Lord; who was of the seed of Abraham, and yet could say, “Before Abraham was I am.”

About seven miles, “sixty furlongs,” from Kulônia we reach the summit of a broad plateau. Turning a corner of the road, a huge Russian monastery and church, with several smaller buildings around, all new, crude and raw in colour, obstruct the view in front. On the right is a ravine, beyond which a series of barren wind-swept hills stretch to the horizon. Just behind the monastery is a Turkish barrack, and then a line of dim grey venerable walls. There is nothing imposing or impressive in the sight, and yet every traveller halts; even the most frivolous are awed into silence. Not a few gaze with tears upon the scene. It is Jerusalem! The moment when its sombre turreted walls, minarets, and domes break, for the first time, upon the eye is one never to be forgotten. The dream, the hope of a lifetime has been fulfilled. The one thought, “Our feet shall stand within thy gates, O Jerusalem,” swallows up every other. I was not surprised; I was not disappointed. The outward features of the landscape were scarcely seen. The present was lost sight of and forgotten in the memories of the past. This was the city of the Lord of Hosts! Here He chose to dwell between the cherubim! Here my Lord was crucified!

It was not our plan to make any stay in Jerusalem at present. We should return in a few days. I contented myself, therefore, with entering at the Jaffa gate, and clattering for a few hundred feet along the stony street. Then, retracing my steps, I rode round a portion of the southern wall and descended into the Valley of Hinnom to rejoin my companions.

SOUTHERN WALL OF TEMPLE AREA.

[From a Photograph by Mr. Bergheim, Junr.

Passing the Pool of Gihon, and leaving the Hill of Evil Counsel on our left, an extensive view opens before us. The eye ranges over a vast expanse of rocky hills, covered with a sparse vegetation. Several fortified and castellated convents—Greek, Latin, Copt and Armenian—remind us that Christianity is but encamped as a foreigner in the land which gave it birth, suggest too the wild and lawless character of the people where the monks have to live as garrisons holding fortresses in an enemy’s country. Several villages, each with a name which recalls events of biblical history, come into view. One of these, conspicuous from its size and position, is Bethlehem, which we hope to visit on our return from Hebron.

TOMB OF RACHEL.

An hour and a quarter after leaving Jerusalem, we approach a square white-washed building surmounted by a dome. Except for its greater size, it differs in no respect from the ordinary tombs of Moslem saints, so numerous throughout Egypt and Syria. It is the birth-place of Benjamin, and the Tomb of Rachel. The present edifice is modern, but the identity of the site is undoubted, being clearly marked out by the inspired narrative, “And they journeyed from Beth-el; and there was but a little way to come to Ephrath: and Rachel travailed, and she had hard labour.... And it came to pass, as her soul was in departing (for she died), that she called his name Ben-oni (i.e. the son of my sorrow): but his father called him Benjamin (i.e., the son of my right hand). And Rachel died, and was buried in the way to Ephrath, which is Bethlehem. And Jacob set a pillar upon her grave: that is the pillar of Rachel’s grave unto this day.”[^[22]] How deeply and permanently this event, with all its details, was impressed on the mind of the bereaved patriarch, may be gathered from the fact, that, on his death-bed, he recalled all the circumstances: “As for me, when I came from Padan, Rachel died by me in the land of Canaan in the way, when yet there was but a little way to come unto Ephrath, and I buried her there in the way of Ephrath.”[^[23]] It has been said that the roads in the East never vary, but continue to follow precisely the same course age after age. It will be noticed that, in both accounts of the death of Rachel, stress is laid upon the fact that she died and was buried “in the way.” The tomb of Rachel still stands on the roadside.

An hour beyond Rachel’s tomb brings us to a fertile, but desolate and unpeopled valley, in which stands a large old castellated khan, near which are three remarkable cisterns of great size, constructed with solid masonry, the joints of which have the peculiar bevel which is regarded as characteristic of old Jewish or Phœnician work. Their dimensions are as follows:

They are fed by three perennial springs, which gush from the rock into a cavern lined with masonry in the hill above the khan, access to which is gained by a narrow doorway, and are conducted by a subterranean conduit into the upper pool. In the valley, below the lower pool, on the way to Bethlehem and Jerusalem, are traces of ancient gardens and orchards. Fruit trees are growing wild; the hills on either side are terraced; and there are indications of fountains, waterfalls, and arbours having been constructed amongst the rocks. The name by which they are known, Solomon’s Pools, leads the mind to the passage in Ecclesiastes: “I made me great works; I builded me houses; I planted me vineyards: I made me gardens and orchards, and I planted trees in them of all kinds of fruits: I made me pools of water, to water therewith the wood that bringeth forth trees.”[^[24]] Though we have no positive proof that these are relics of “the glory of Solomon,” the probability is strong in favour of their being so.

About four hours and a half south of Solomon’s Pools, stands a city, which contests with Damascus the distinction of being the oldest in the world; and which, in historical interest, may almost vie with Jerusalem itself—Hebron. It has been said that the road thither is unique, as being absolutely the worst in the world. It would, however, be more correct to say that for the greater part of the distance there is no road at all. A track, indistinctly marked, crosses hill and valley, over smooth sheets of slippery rock, winding in and out amongst piles of stones, or leading into treacherous quagmires. Here and there traces of Roman pavement may be detected, or a mass of limestone rock has been cut through. In all other respects the rugged mountain-sides remain unchanged. The scenery is monotonous and depressing. A succession of bare, rounded hills, absolutely treeless, and apparently hopelessly barren, stretch to the horizon in every direction. There is nothing to break the solitude, save now and then a string of camels on their way between Hebron and Jerusalem. Not a house, or sign of human habitation, is visible.

SOLOMON’S POOLS.

The prevailing grey tone of the landscape, save where a strip of brilliant green in the valleys marks the line of a watercourse, adds to the monotony. And yet this district, now so lonely and desolate, must at some period have been both populous and prosperous. Ruins of ancient villages are to be seen on every hand; and the lines of stones, which now add to the sterile aspect of the hill-sides, prove on examination to be the remains of artificial terraces, by means of which the steepest slopes and the scantiest soil were once brought under cultivation.[^[25]]

Shortly before reaching Hebron the road passes along a valley, the sides of which are covered with figs, olives, pomegranates, peaches, and apricots. But the extent and luxuriance of the vineyards form its most striking feature. It is the Valley of Eshcol, where the spies “cut down a branch with one cluster of grapes, and they bare it between two upon a staff; and they brought of the pomegranates, and of the figs.”[^[26]] The fruit of Eshcol is famous to this day for its size and flavour throughout Southern Palestine; and as we looked around on the expanse of orchards and olive groves and vineyards, it was easy to understand the favourable report of the spies—“We came unto the land whither thou sentest us, and surely it floweth with milk and honey; and this is the fruit of it.” We are in the territory of Judah, and as we observed the size of the vine-stubs, and the abundance of their produce, the prophetic blessing of Jacob could not be forgotten, “Binding his foal unto the vine, and his ass’s colt unto the choice vine; he washed his garments in wine, and his clothes in the blood of grapes: his eyes shall be red with wine, and his teeth white with milk.”[^[27]]

RUINS OF TEKOA, ON THE WAY DOWN TO HEBRON.

We noticed, too, the vineyards walled round with stones, collected from within the enclosure, each with its wine-fat and a tower, constructed, like the fences, with stones and masses of rock which would otherwise have marred the soil; and the words of Isaiah found an exact illustration, “My wellbeloved hath a vineyard in a very fruitful hill: and he fenced it, and gathered out the stones thereof, and planted it with the choicest vine, and built a tower in the midst of it, and also made a winepress therein.”[^[28]] The parable spoken by our Lord was, at the same time, vividly illustrated. “There was a certain householder, which planted a vineyard, and hedged it round about, and digged a winepress in it, and built a tower.”[^[29]]

The grapes are either eaten fresh, or dried into raisins, or boiled down into grape-honey (dibs), or made into wine. Of course the Mohammedans leave the production and consumption of the latter to the Jewish and Christian residents, its use being forbidden by the Koran. I found the wine of Hebron strong, but very sweet, being loaded with grape-honey, and apparently flavoured with spices, tasting much like the elder-berry wine which is made in country districts in England.

DISTANT VIEW OF HEBRON.

The first view of Hebron is very striking. It is picturesquely situated among groves of olives, on the slope of a hill at the southern end of the valley of Eshcol. Solidly built with blocks of grey weather-beaten stone, it has an appearance of great antiquity as befits a city reared “seven years before Zoan in Egypt.”[^[30]] Zoan has disappeared, but Hebron still stands, with a history which goes back for more than three thousand years. The ancient names of the city—“Kirjath-Arba, the city of Arba the father of Anak, which city is Hebron,”[^[31]] are no longer used. But its modern name is strangely impressive and affecting. It is now known as El-Khulil, that is, The Friend, leading the mind back to the title given to the illustrious patriarch by God Himself, “Abraham, My friend.”[^[32]] It is by this name that he is always known throughout the Mohammedan world; and the epithet has passed over from the patriarch himself to the city with which he was so intimately associated.

Very early in the life of Abraham we find him encamped “in the plain of Mamre, which is in Hebron, and he built there an altar unto the Lord.”[^[33]] He and his nephew Lot had parted. Lot had chosen the well-watered and luxuriant plain of the Jordan, which lies just across the range of hills on the western slope of which Hebron stands; and Abraham had remained on the elevated plateau which was henceforth to be inseparably associated with himself and his descendants.

It was whilst encamped at Mamre that he received tidings of the disaster which had fallen upon his nephew. Chedorlaomer, king of Elam, with his allies, had attacked and sacked the cities of the plain, had carried away Lot as captive, and, laden with spoil, was returning to his own country. Abraham at once collected his clan, “born in his own house, three hundred and eighteen, and pursued them unto Dan,”[^[34]] the extreme northern city of Palestine. A battle was fought, in which Chedorlaomer was slain, his army routed, and Lot with his family delivered from captivity.

Some years now pass by, in which the names of Hebron and Mamre do not occur, though it is probable that some of the incidents recorded happened there. Then “the Lord appeared unto him in the plain of Mamre: and he sat in the tent door in the heat of the day; and he lift up his eyes and looked, and, lo, three men stood by him.”[^[35]] The prompt hospitality of the patriarch was just such as would be offered by an Arab sheikh at the present day. Travellers have delighted to illustrate the narrative by narrating similar incidents in their own experience. Soon the mysterious visitants “rose up from thence, and looked toward Sodom: and Abraham went with them to bring them on the way”[^[36]] over the ridge of hills which divided Mamre from the doomed city. Two of them seem to have continued their journey, “and went toward Sodom.” The third remains—it is the Lord himself, the Angel of the Covenant. He discloses to Abraham the impending destruction of the cities of the plain, which would involve Lot and his family in the general ruin. The patriarch, who had once before rescued his nephew from the cruelty of man, now ventures to interpose between him and the judgments of God. His fervent prayer having reached its end, “the Lord went His way, as soon as He had left communing with Abraham: and Abraham returned unto his place.”[^[37]] With the dawn of day we find him an eager watcher from the hill-top above his tent. “Abraham gat up early in the morning to the place where he stood before the Lord: and he looked toward Sodom and Gomorrah, and toward all the land of the plain, and beheld, and, lo, the smoke of the country went up as the smoke of a furnace.”[^[38]] It affords an interesting confirmation of this part of the narrative that from the summit of the hill just above the traditional site of Mamre a view may be gained, through a notch of the dividing ridge, right down into the valley beyond, with its scene of weird desolation.

Hebron next comes before us as the scene of bereavement. “And Sarah died in Kirjath-Arba; the same is Hebron in the land of Canaan: and Abraham came to mourn for Sarah, and to weep for her.” He, to whom the whole land had been promised in “a covenant which could not be broken,” possessed not a foot of soil in it, and he must buy a grave, “that I may bury my dead out of my sight.” The negotiation with the sons of Heth which followed, is finely characteristic of the courtesy, the generosity, and the practical wisdom of the bereaved patriarch. The purchase of the cave of Machpelah is effected and the place of burial is transferred, the narrative of the completion of the purchase being recorded in terms, the precision of which is like that of a legal document.[^[39]] Sarah is buried there, and “then Abraham gave up the ghost, and died in a good old age, an old man, and full of years; and was gathered to his people. And his sons Isaac and Ishmael buried him in the cave of Machpelah.”[^[40]]

Yet again we read that “Jacob came unto Isaac his father unto Mamre, unto the city of Arbah, which is Hebron, where Abraham and Isaac sojourned. And the days of Isaac were an hundred and fourscore years. And Isaac gave up the ghost, and died, and was gathered unto his people, being old and full of days: and his sons Esau and Jacob buried him.”[^[41]]

HEBRON, AND MOSQUE OVER CAVE OF MACHPELAH.

Here Jacob lived after the death of his father, and hence he sent the beloved son of his beloved Rachel to visit his brethren at Shechem.[^[42]] Here, too, he buried Leah,[^[43]] as Sarah and Rebekah had already been laid side by side. And “he gave commandment concerning his bones,” that the same sacred enclosure should be his last resting-place.[^[44]] Hither his embalmed body was brought, with all the pomp and ceremonial of mourning for which Egypt was famous, and there, probably, the mummy of the last of three great patriarchs rests to this day.[^[45]]

We have already seen that the spies, starting from Kadesh-Barnea, passed through Hebron when sent up “to spy out the land.”[^[46]] One of them, Caleb the son of Jephunneh, faithful amongst the faithless, had rebuked the fears of the people and “wholly followed the Lord God of Israel.” To him and his heirs Hebron had been promised as the reward of his fidelity. After the defeat of the Ammonites by Joshua, when the city was stormed and sacked by the victorious Israelites, Caleb claimed the fulfilment of this promise, “And Joshua blessed him, and gave unto Caleb the son of Jephunneh Hebron for an inheritance.”[^[47]]

POOL OF HEBRON.

For some time onward, Hebron receives only slight and passing mention. But in this old royal city, hallowed by so many associations, David established his throne on the death of Saul, and here he reigned as king of Judah for “seven years and six months.”[^[48]] Soon Hebron again comes before us as a place of burial. Abner, falling a victim to the vengeance and ambition of Joab, who slew him in the gate of the city, received a magnificent funeral, and king David himself followed the bier, and they buried Abner in Hebron, and the king lifted up his voice and wept, and all the people wept.[^[49]] A tomb is yet shown and regarded with great reverence as that of Abner.

One spot in the suburbs of Hebron we are enabled to associate with the residence of David here. There are two tanks or pools just outside the city gate, evidently of great antiquity. It was here that he executed the murderers of Ishbosheth, the son of Saul. “And David commanded his young men, and they slew them, and cut off their hands and their feet, and hanged them up over the pool in Hebron. But they took the head of Ish-bosheth, and buried it in the sepulchre of Abner in Hebron.”[^[50]]

ENTRANCE TO MOSQUE.

From a Photograph.

When the tribes of Israel came down to Hebron, and made David king over all the land, the interest and importance of the city ceased. Only once again does it appear in history. Here Absalom came and raised the standard of revolt against his father, and “sent spies throughout all the tribes of Israel, saying, As soon as ye hear the sound of the trumpet, then shall ye say, Absalom reigneth in Hebron.”[^[51]] The name does not occur in the New Testament, nor does our Lord appear to have visited it in the course of his ministry; but on the flight into Egypt, when Joseph “arose and took the young child and his mother by night,”[^[52]] they must have passed through the city and probably rested here on the first night of the journey.

Great and various as is the interest associated with Hebron, that interest culminates in the cave of Machpelah. Here lie the bodies of the three great patriarchs—Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, with their wives—Sarah, Rebekah, and Leah. Mohammedan tradition affirms that the embalmed body of Joseph, likewise, rests here, and his cenotaph is in the mosque over the cave, with those of the other patriarchs.[^[53]]

ROOF OF MOSQUE OVER MACHPELAH.

It is thus the most interesting Campo Santo in the world, and shares with Jerusalem the distinction of being regarded with reverence alike by Jews, Christians, and Mohammedans. If it were possible for us to ascertain with certainty the sepulchre of our Lord, we should approach it with yet deeper feelings of awe and reverence, though He lay there only for thirty-six hours. But in seeking the place “where the Lord lay,” we have nothing to guide us but vague conjecture and dubious tradition. Here, however, the identification is absolute and beyond the reach of scepticism. Guarded with superstitious care for more than three thousand years, we can feel complete confidence that “the Father of the faithful” and “the Friend of God” lies here with his sons.

The entrance to the cave appears to have been in the face of a projecting mass of rock—there are many such round Hebron—which rose in the field of Ephron the Hittite. The trees which bordered it[^[54]] were probably co-extensive with the walls which now enclose the Haram of the Mosque. At a very early period, probably not later than the times of David or Solomon, an edifice was erected over the cave. The stones are of great size, with the characteristic Jewish bevel. Dr. Wilson measured one which was thirty-eight feet in length. The architecture is peculiar, being neither Saracenic nor Christian. A series of flat pilasters run round the sides. From the main entrance a flight of stone steps runs up between the outer wall and the mosque. We thus rise from the bottom of the cliff in the face of which was the entrance of the cave up to the top. Into the cave itself no one is allowed to enter. Even the mosque is guarded with jealous care. No Jew or Christian had been permitted to set foot within it, until, after immense difficulty, permission was granted to the Prince of Wales and his suite in the year 1862. Within the last few years the severity of the restriction has been somewhat relaxed. In the year 1873, I was allowed to go about halfway up the flight of steps outside the mosque and to put my hand through a hole in the wall, which I was told led into the cave. I was then led round the outside on to the roof, that I might look down through the lattice-work of a tower into the mosque. All, however, was perfectly dark, and I could see nothing. The locality of the shrines was pointed out to me, which agreed with the description given by Dean Stanley in the narrative of his visit with the Prince of Wales.

ARRANGEMENT OF TOMBS IN CAVE OF MACHPELAH.

It is to Dean Stanley that we are indebted for our knowledge of the interior. He found the chapels or shrines of the patriarchs and their wives, arranged in order, over the places where the bodies were said to lie in the cave beneath. They stand as in the annexed plan.

As we turn away from the secret and mysterious cave, where lie the ashes of the illustrious dead, under the jealous care of their Arab guardians, hallowed memories and yet more hallowed hopes suggest themselves. The hushed silence of well-nigh four thousand years shall one day be broken, and He, who is “the resurrection and the life,” shall call forth the sleepers from their resting-place of ages.

“What though the Moslem mosque be in the valley!

Though faithless hands have sealed the sacred cave!

And the red prophet’s children shout ‘El Allah’

Over the Hebrews’ grave!

Yet a day cometh when those white walls shaking

Shall give again to light the living dead;

And Abraham, Isaac, Jacob reawaking

Spring from their rocky bed.”

On the return from Hebron, a slight detour by a road leading through vineyards brings us to a magnificent tree known as Abraham’s Oak. Here according to tradition, Abraham sat at the door of his tent, when he received the visit of the angels.[^[55]] It is a stately Syrian oak, of the species known to the Arabs as Sindiân. Though of great age it is obviously later than the Christian era. Yet it well deserves a visit, not only for its great size and beauty, but as the last survivor of the grove of oaks, which stood here in Patriarchal and Hebrew times. It measures twenty-three feet round the trunk, and its branches cover an area in one direction of fifty feet, and of ninety feet in another. Its situation answers admirably to the biblical description of Mamre, being “before” or “over against” Machpelah, whilst from the hill above it a view, already referred to,[^[56]] of the plain of Sodom is gained. Here, therefore, I should fix the site of Mamre rather than at Rhamet el Khulil (the Hill of the Friend), which stands some distance to the north.

ABRAHAM’S OAK NEAR HEBRON.

BETHLEHEM TO THE DEAD SEA.

BETHLEHEM TO THE DEAD SEA.

IT was a brilliant morning in early spring as we rode along the hill-side over the Wady Urtas from Solomon’s Pools to Bethlehem. The turf was vividly green, gemmed with innumerable flowers. Orchards of peach, apricot, and pomegranate with their white and scarlet blossoms, succeeded one another in an unbroken series along the valley. The conduit, which conducts the water from Solomon’s Pools to Jerusalem, and which in ancient times supplied the Temple, was open in various places, and we could see the crystal stream flash past on its way to “make glad the city of God.”[^[57]] The Jebel Fureidis, a steep conical mountain, visible from almost every point in Southern Palestine, formed a striking object in the landscape. “The little hills rejoice on every side; the pastures are clothed with flocks; the valleys also are covered over with corn; they shout for joy, they also sing.”[^[58]] Wherever we turn our eyes the words of the Psalmist are suggested as the aptest description of the scenery. It was easy to see where the Shepherd of Bethlehem drew the materials for his poetry.

Soon Bethlehem[^[59]] comes into view—a white-walled village of about three thousand inhabitants, all Christians. They are, however, a turbulent, quarrelsome set, ever fighting amongst themselves or with their neighbours. In the disturbances which take place so frequently at Jerusalem, it is said that the ringleaders are commonly found to be Bethlehemites. The women are remarkable for personal beauty. I saw more handsome faces here in a few hours than elsewhere in the East in many days. The dress, which is peculiar, is very becoming. A sort of tiara of some bright metal encircles the head over which is folded a white cloth which hangs down upon the shoulders. The men are strong, lithe, well-built fellows, and I saw several young shepherds, who were models of manly vigour. Here, as elsewhere in the East, the pastoral pipe is in constant use. The shepherd-lad makes it for himself, shaping the mouth-piece out of some hard wood, and using a hollow reed for the pipe. I cannot say much in praise of the music they produce.

GATE OF BETHLEHEM.

Bethlehem stands on the crest of a ridge of Jurassic limestone. As it is surmounted by higher hills, however, the view from it is not very extensive. Jerusalem, though only six miles distant, is hidden by an intervening height. But through the valleys stretching away eastward to the Dead Sea, fine views are gained of the mountains of Moab, and from the flat roof of the Latin Convent part of the Dead Sea itself is visible.

WOMEN OF BETHLEHEM.

Passing over the two disgraceful events connected with Bethlehem, during the period of anarchy described in the concluding chapters of the Book of Judges,[^[60]] we come to that exquisite idyll, the beauty of which, apart from its religious bearing, invests the scene with a charm, amounting to fascination. Read the history of Ruth on the spot, and every minutest detail acquires a new interest and meaning. We can trace the journey of Elimelech and his family, as, driven by stress of famine, they make their way toward that long line of purple mountains against the eastern sky—some twenty miles distant. We see the two childless widows return—Naomi, proud and bitter in her poverty and bereavement, rejecting the greetings of the townspeople: “Call me not Naomi (pleasant), call me Mara (bitter): for the Almighty hath dealt very bitterly with me. I went out full, and the Lord hath brought me home again empty: why then call ye me Naomi, seeing the Lord hath testified against me, and the Almighty hath afflicted me?”[^[61]] We see the young Moabitess with her strange beauty and gentleness winning all hearts. Amongst the youths and maidens around us, it is easy to believe that her descendants are not wanting.

SHEPHERD OF BETHLEHEM.

EASTERN GLEANERS.

We may still see the fields of wheat and barley in the valley below us from which “Boaz went up to the gate.”[^[62]] We may still hear the very same greeting as when “Boaz said unto the reapers, The Lord be with you, and they answered him, The Lord bless thee.”[^[63]] We may see the reapers resting at noonday, sheltered from the fierce heat of the sun by some spreading tree, dipping their morsel of bread into the vinegar or eating their parched corn from the ears,[^[64]] the gleaners bearing home the wheat and barley they have gathered in the coarse cloth which serves the peasant women for a veil, or beating it out by the roadside that they may carry it more easily.[^[65]] Yonder are the threshing-floors in the field where the master will spend the nights of harvest to protect his produce from robbers.[^[66]] And here is the gate of the city where Boaz sat with the elders to redeem the possession that was Elimelech’s and take the beautiful young widow to wife.[^[67]] Well was the nuptial benediction fulfilled, “The Lord make the woman that is come into thine house like Rachel and like Leah, which two did build the house of Israel: and do thou worthily in Ephratah, and be famous in Bethlehem.”[^[68]]

Nearly a hundred years must have elapsed before we hear again of Bethlehem, for the grandson of Boaz and Ruth is now an old man.[^[69]] He is the father of eight stalwart sons, the youngest of whom keeps his father’s sheep upon the mountain-side. Though treated as of no account by the elders of the family,[^[70]] he is yet called David (the darling), is described as “ruddy, blue-eyed, and beautiful;”[^[71]] he is already famous as a musician, and has distinguished himself for strength, courage, wit, and piety.[^[72]] These qualities commend him to the servants of Saul, and he is chosen to play before the moody king and charm away his gloom.[^[73]]

The life of a Bethlehemite shepherd was one of no common toil and danger, and it remains so down to the present day. Hordes of wandering Bedouin are waiting to swoop down upon the flocks and herds of the peaceful inhabitants, and need to be watched against with ceaseless vigilance and repelled with fearless courage. Bears descend from the neighbouring mountains. Lions have disappeared, but in the days of David they came up from their lairs in the valley of the Dead Sea, driven forth by the swelling of the Jordan. The prowess of the shepherd lad had been tried against these, familiar perils.[^[74]] Yet, modest and pious, as he was strong and bold, he ascribes his success to the Lord, who taught his hands to war and his fingers to fight.[^[75]] No wonder that He who “seeth not as man seeth, for the man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart,”[^[76]] should have rejected the elder sons of Jesse and directed his prophet to anoint the youngest as the future king.

ENTRANCE TO CAVE OF ADULLAM.

His chequered fortunes now lead him away from Bethlehem and we hear of him no more in his actual birth-place. But the cave of Adullam was not far distant. The limestone rocks of the district abound in caves, many of them of great size. The one which is said by tradition to have been the retreat of David and his followers is about five miles from Bethlehem, near the base of Jebel Fureidis or the Frank Mountain already spoken of as so striking an object in the landscape. It is approached by a savage ravine, after which a steep ascent leads upward by a path so narrow that a handful of brave men might keep a whole army at bay. The entrance to the cave is by a small opening through which only a single person can pass at a time. This leads to a series of chambers, some large enough to hold several hundred men. A perfect labyrinth of galleries and passages, never fully explored, stretch in every direction, and are said by the Arabs to go as far as Tekoa. In one of them is a large cistern, supplied, probably, by filtration through the rock above. The largest chamber has an arched roof with numerous recesses in the sides, reminding visitors of a gothic cathedral. Here David, living in the midst of his own clan, would be promptly warned of the approach of danger, and could easily receive supplies of food. The summit of the hill above commands a view of the whole surrounding district, so that the movements of his enemies could be watched in every direction. His familiarity with the wild glens and strongholds of the district, gained whilst keeping his father’s sheep, would prove an immense advantage in flying from his pursuers. And the proximity to Moab secured for him a safe retreat if hard pressed. In Moab, too, he found friends and relatives, in virtue of his descent from “Ruth the Moabitess,” to whom he committed his parents when they were exposed to danger from the vindictive fury of Saul.[^[77]] The phrase that “his brethren and all his father’s house went down thither unto him,”[^[78]] which at first suggests a difficulty, from the fact that the cave is high up on the mountain-side, finds an easy explanation as we observe that from Bethlehem they must first descend into the Wady Urtas and wind along down the ravine. In the references to this cave, as everywhere in Scripture, the narrative is in such exact and minute agreement with the topography of the district that it could only have been written by an eye-witness.

CAVE OF ADULLAM.

It was whilst hiding here with his wild and outlawed followers that the touching incident occurred of his longing for the “water of the well of Bethlehem, that is at the gate.”[^[79]] The worn and weary fugitive who compares himself to “a partridge hunted upon the mountains,”[^[80]] goes back to the peaceful happy days of his shepherd life. He remembers the time when, leading his flocks homeward in the evening after a day of sultry heat on the mountain-side, he had quenched his thirst at the familiar well, just as we had seen the shepherds doing on the same spot. Were ever days so happy! Was ever water so sweet! The “three mighty ones,” eager to gratify the faintest wish of their beloved chief, break through the beleaguering host of the Philistines, draw the water from the well, and return. The hero, reproaching himself for his selfish wish, that had “put in jeopardy the lives of these men,” refuses to drink thereof, and pours it out for “a drink-offering to the Lord.”

Only once again does the name of Bethlehem occur in Old Testament history. The reference, though slight and incidental, has an important bearing on the site of the Nativity. When David was flying from his rebellious son Absalom into the region beyond the Jordan, amongst those who showed kindness to the “dim discrowned king” was Barzillai the Gileadite.[^[81]] When the rebellion had been crushed, and the king was about to return to his own land, Barzillai accompanied him across the Jordan. The grateful monarch invited the old man to go up with him to Jerusalem as his guest. Barzillai declined the honour, pleading his advanced age, his growing weakness, his failing sight, saying, “How long have I to live, that I should go up with the king unto Jerusalem? I am this day fourscore years old: and can I discern between good and evil? Can thy servant taste what I eat or what I drink? Can I hear any more the voice of singing men and singing women? Wherefore then should thy servant be yet a burden unto my lord the king? Thy servant will go a little way over Jordan with the king: and why should the king recompense it me with such a reward? Let thy servant, I pray thee, turn back again, that I may die in mine own city, and be buried by the grave of my father and of my mother.”

BETHLEHEM FROM THE SHEPHERDS’ FIELD.

But the honour which he declines for himself he solicits on behalf of his son Chimham, who accompanied David on his return to Jerusalem.[^[82]] Chimham seems to have been treated with peculiar favour, and adopted into the family of the king; for David, on his death-bed, specially commended him to the care of Solomon, and requested that he be of “those that eat at his table.”[^[83]] We find further that he came into possession of property in or near Bethlehem,[^[84]] which he transmitted to his descendants, for in the prophecies of Jeremiah “the habitation of Chimham which is by Bethlehem” is spoken of as a place familiarly known. That this formed part of the patrimony of David, given to him as an adopted son, is highly probable, for in no other way can we understand a Gileadite permanently owning land at Bethlehem.

INTERIOR OF KHAN.

But the word, translated “house” in Jeremiah, where the Jews assembled on their way down into Egypt, means a khan or caravanserai. Elsewhere, it is translated “inn.” What then are we to understand by the khan of Chimham? It is, and always has been, the custom throughout the East for places to be provided for travellers—one in each village—where they might halt for the night. They are generally at distances of six or seven miles, so as to allow of an easy day’s march from one to another. Bethlehem thus formed the first stage from Jerusalem, on the way to Egypt. The duty and honour of providing and maintaining these khans devolved upon the sheikh or head man of the village, who was empowered to levy a tax upon the villagers for their support. Sometimes only a space of ground was staked out and fenced with thorns, so as to furnish protection against thieves and wild beasts. But often a wealthy sheikh would erect a substantial edifice, either defraying the cost himself or seeking aid in the work from the inhabitants. It seems almost certain, therefore, that Chimham either became Sheikh of Bethlehem, or else that, out of gratitude to his benefactor, he built a khan on a portion of the land he received from the king. Of these, the former is the more probable, and more in accordance with the custom of the country. One thing, however, seems clear, that long after the time of David, “the inn” at Bethlehem was well known as the khan of Chimham, and that it stood on land which had descended by inheritance from Boaz to Jesse, to David, and to David’s adopted son.[^[85]] Here was to be fulfilled the prophecy of Micah, “But thou, Bethlehem Ephratah, though thou be little among the thousands of Judah, yet out of thee shall he come forth unto Me that is to be ruler in Israel; whose goings forth have been from of old, from everlasting.”[^[86]]

We thus come to that event, the glory of which transcends every other which has yet passed under our review. Here the Eternal God veiled yet manifested Himself in human form. The King of Glory is found “as a babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.” Omnipotence slumbered within an infant’s arm. Omniscience lay concealed beneath an infant’s brow. In the plain below us, the shepherds were keeping their flocks by night, when they heard the angelic anthem, “Glory to God in the highest, peace on earth, good will to men.” Up that steep rocky path they came to see this great sight. Over that mountain-side the Wise Men brought their gifts of gold and frankincense and myrrh to pay homage to “the Desire of all nations.” As we stand in the rock-hewn Chapel of the Nativity gazing upon the silver star on the floor, and read the words Hic de Virgine Maria Jesus Christus natus est, even the most cold and apathetic can scarcely refrain from tears.

But is this the actual spot? Do we really stand on the very place where the Virgin “brought forth her first-born son and called His name Jesus”? There is everything in the surroundings of the place to awaken scepticism. This series of tawdrily decked chapels in which all the great events which have happened in Bethlehem are huddled together within one building almost compel incredulity. Here, for instance, is the altar of the Holy Innocents, and we are asked to believe that the remains of twenty thousand infants, slain by Herod, lie buried close by the place of the nativity, and we are shown the preserved tongue of one of them! However willing we may be to accept the tradition, as to the site, we find it difficult to do so when it is mixed up with such preposterous legends as these.

And yet the evidence for its authenticity is strong, though not quite conclusive. The church stands upon a spot, just outside the village, which the inn or khan is very likely to have occupied. The “house of Chimham by Bethlehem” was well known to the Jews, as we have seen, and when the khan of a village has been once established it is seldom that its site is changed. It continues to occupy the same spot from age to age. We know that so early as the second century, Justin described our Lord’s birth-place as “a cave near Bethlehem.” And Jerome himself, a native of Syria and familiar with the customs and traditions of the country, took up his abode in an adjacent cave, that he might be near his Lord’s birth-place. The fact that the Chapel of the Nativity is a grotto, though calculated to excite suspicion, is not of itself fatal. It is by no means improbable that a cave contiguous to the inn might have served the purpose of a stable. It should further be remembered that the church may stand upon the site of the inn even though the Chapel of the Nativity has been placed in a cave in accordance with an erroneous and misleading superstition. Dean Stanley, summing up the evidence for and against the authenticity of the site, concludes with the remark, “There remains the remarkable fact that the spot was reverenced by Christians as the birth-place of Christ two centuries before the conversion of the empire—before that burst of local religion which is commonly ascribed to the visit of Helena.”

INTERIOR OF THE CHURCH OF THE NATIVITY.

Whilst feeling that the balance of probability is in favour of the authenticity of the site, there was one consideration which made me wish to come to a different conclusion. The degrading superstition and the disgraceful discord which prevail here are a scandal to the birth-place of Christianity. Anything more alien to the spirit of the Prince of Peace can scarcely be conceived than the bitter hostility which rages amongst the three confessions—Latin, Greek, and Armenian—which share the sacred shrine. The church—a noble edifice, with stately columns, probably brought from the Temple at Jerusalem—is no longer used for worship. It is held by a garrison of Turkish soldiers stationed to prevent bloodshed amongst the monks and the pilgrims. Passing along the subterranean gallery, through the long series of gaudy chapels, acts of idolatry are witnessed the grossness of which recalls the fetish worship of Africa. Even a coldly scientific geographer like Ritter cannot refrain from exclaiming, “Bethlehem has thus become a sacred name and a sacred place, although it is so poor and mean and unimportant; but unfortunately, to many who visit it, its higher significance is lost: they kiss the wood of the manger, but it is mere dry wood to them—they miss the living spirit which once began that earthly career there which had been prepared for it from before the foundation of the world.”[^[87]]

THE CHURCH OF THE NATIVITY.

Leaving Bethlehem on the east, the road winds down a rocky slope, past fields of wheat and barley and terraced vineyards. Innumerable sheep and goats are seen on the hills around as in the days of Boaz and David. At the foot a level plain is reached, affording good pasturage, and dotted over with clumps of olive trees. This is called the Shepherds’ Field, from the tradition that here they were keeping their flocks by night when the angels appeared to them. Soon the scenery becomes wild and desolate. In no part of the world have I seen anything with which to compare it. If the chalk-downs of the South of England were denuded of grass, were heaved up and tossed about in the throes of an earthquake, and the sides of the hills thus formed were cut into ravines by the fury of winter torrents, it would afford some illustration of the weird desolation of this Wilderness of Judea. The gorge of the Kedron runs steeply down from Jerusalem to the Dead Sea, a descent of nearly four thousand feet. The wadies which seam the mountain-sides are dry in the summer, but in the winter form the beds of roaring torrents. Now and then a glimpse of the Dead Sea is gained—the deep blue of its waters gaining an additional intensity from the red or purple of the mountains of Moab, which form the background of the landscape. The black tents of the Bedouin, their flocks and herds feeding on the mountain-sides, an Arab horseman, or a string of camels with their noiseless tread, are the only signs of life in this region of sterility.

In about three hours from Bethlehem, the Convent of Mar Saba is reached. It stands on the edge of the gorge of the Kedron, here from a thousand to twelve hundred feet deep, the rocky sides of which are almost precipitous, and at the bottom of the ravine are only a few yards apart. Looked at from beneath, parts of the building are seen to be literally clamped to the perpendicular walls of rock, and hang perilously over the abyss. Other portions of the edifice are constructed in chambers cut out of the mountain-side. The labyrinth of caves, chambers, and passages is most bewildering. Only an inmate of the convent can find his way from one part to another. What may be called the land side of the monastery is enclosed by a high wall of great thickness. The only entrance is by a massive gate, through which no one is admitted unless vouched for by the Greek patriarch at Jerusalem. Bedouin and women are not admitted at all. The former for the obvious reason that on several occasions, having forced their way in, they massacred all the inmates. Ladies are excluded, because, as Miss Martineau bitterly expresses it, “the monks are too holy to be hospitable.” The rule of the monastery is very rigid. The monks never eat meat, and subject themselves to severe austerities. Though there is a valuable library, it seems to be entirely unused; indeed, a majority of the ascetics are unable to read, and their only recreation consists in drinking raki, and in feeding the birds and Jackals, which are very numerous.

CONVENT OF MAR SABA.

Only once, when I crossed the Mer de Glace at midnight, have I seen anything to compare with the wild, unearthly impressiveness of one view of this famous monastery. We had encamped at nightfall about a couple of miles above Mar Saba. The stars were shining with extraordinary brilliancy in a cloudless sky, and the moon was just coming above the horizon. I suggested an excursion along the bottom of the ravine, so as to see the convent from beneath. On proposing this to the Sheikh, he of course declared that it was impossible, no one had ever done it—there was no road—he would not answer for our heads if we attempted it, with much more to the same purpose. But finding us determined to make a start, and that there was a prospect of backshish, he withdrew his objections and despatched a party of Bedouin as guides and escort. The bottom of the gorge was in almost total darkness, but we could see the jagged peaks overhead, silvered with the moonlight. Stumbling along the bed of the Kedron, now perfectly dry, winding in and out amongst huge boulders, scrambling over masses of rock which blocked up the narrow passage, we made our way down the valley. No sound was heard, save our own footsteps and the howling of jackals. Every now and then, emerging silently as a ghost from behind a projecting crag or from the mouth of a cave, a Bedouin, armed with his long gun, would step forward, speak a few words to our escort, and then silently disappear. At length we reached a point immediately beneath the convent. The moon had now risen high enough to pour a flood of intense white light upon it whilst we were still wrapped in gloom. It seemed to be detached from earth, and to hang suspended in the heavens. The solitary palm tree, said to have been planted by St. Saba himself, stood out clear and distinct, every frond relieved against the deep blue of the sky behind it. Even our Bedouin escort, usually so insensible to natural scenery, seemed awed and impressed by the wild weird grandeur of the view.

The Valley of Kidron begins its course on the east side of the Temple at Jerusalem, and runs down to the Dead Sea, through a barren, arid, waterless waste. It is thus the probable scene of the prophetic vision in which Ezekiel beholds the glory of “the latter days,” when waters, issuing from beneath the altar, shall flow eastward in an ever deepening stream, bringing with them fertility and beauty wherever they come. “Very many trees” are seen to spring up along its banks on either side. Reaching the bitter, stagnant, poisonous waters of the Dead Sea, its desolate solitudes become the haunts of busy life. Fishers spread their nets from En-Eglaim to En-Engedi, for the fish have become as “the fish of the great sea, exceeding many.” “And by the river upon the bank thereof, on this side and on that side, shall grow all trees for meat, whose leaf shall not fade, neither shall the fruit thereof be consumed: it shall bring forth new fruit according to his months, because their waters they issued out of the sanctuary: and the fruit thereof shall be for meat, and the leaf thereof for medicine.”[^[88]] Reading such promises of future blessings amid these desolate and sterile regions, we are impressively reminded that when “the spirit be poured upon us from on high, the wilderness shall be a fruitful field, and the fruitful field be accounted for a forest, ... and the work of righteousness shall be peace, and the effect of righteousness quietness and assurance for ever.”[^[89]]

THE WILDERNESS OF JUDÆA.

The strange unique conformation of the country which we noticed as we approached Mar Saba becomes even more extraordinary as we continue our journey eastward. The soil consists of a soft chalk or white marl, furrowed in every direction by a labyrinth of valleys and pits from fifty to a hundred feet deep, cut, ages ago, by torrents long since dried up, leaving fantastic flat-topped mounds of every conceivable shape, which Maundrell aptly compares to gigantic lime kilns.

NORTHERN SHORE OF THE DEAD SEA.

In a little more than three hours we find ourselves descending into the Valley of the Jordan and the Dead Sea. Reaching the plain, we ride through an extensive cane brake where the reeds are higher than our heads, and which is the haunt of wild boars, wolves, jackals, and leopards, and from which lions were driven out “from the swelling of Jordan.”[^[90]]

From this point all vegetation ceases, for the bitter, acrid waters are fatal alike to animal and vegetable life. Even sea-fish turned into the lake die immediately.[^[91]] The beach is strewn with trunks of trees, bones of animals, and shells of fish brought down by the Jordan or by the winter torrents which come from the mountain-sides. After tossing, perhaps for centuries, in the bitter brine, they are cast ashore so saturated with salt that the wood will scarcely ignite, and if it burn at all, only gives a feeble blue flame. Those gaunt skeletons of ancient trees are all the more ghastly from the fact that they are covered by a saline deposit of which the fine glittering crystals are found efflorescing all along the beach. It is caused by the evaporation either of the receding waters after the winter floods, or of the spray which is flung ashore by the winds, which rush with extraordinary violence between the rocky walls which hem in the valley.

SOUTHERN SHORE OF THE DEAD SEA. EXPLORING PARTY OF LIEUT. LYNCH.

Whilst the northern shore is thus a flat desolate waste, the view down the sea, looking southward, is not wanting in a solemn grandeur and beauty. The water, clear as crystal, is of a deep blue, almost purple; its waves are crested with foam of a dazzling whiteness. Along the eastern shore the mountains of Moab stand like a mighty wall, the ridges and precipices of which slope down “in wild confusion to the shore, terminating in a series of perpendicular cliffs, from twelve hundred to two thousand feet above the water.” Though their outline is somewhat monotonous and unbroken, their marvellous colouring, which varies from a delicate pink to a rich crimson, invests them with a magical beauty. Seen, especially in the morning or the evening light, their tints are quite unearthly. The mountains of the western side, though lower than those of the eastern, seldom rising above fifteen hundred feet, are more irregular and broken, at least as seen from the northern end, and assume forms of striking grandeur. The most characteristic feature of the southern shore is a vast ridge of fossil salt, called Jebel Usdum, which is cut into ravines and hollows by the action of winter torrents. Canon Tristram describes many of these in terms which recall the glacier caves of the Alps. The light gleaming through the roof produces an exquisite play of colour—green and blue and white of various shades. Columns of rock salt are constantly left standing, detached from the general mass. Travellers—forgetful of the fact that these isolated fragments are but of short duration, and are, in the course of a few years, washed away by the same agency which produced them—have often identified one or another with the pillar of salt referred to in Genesis xix. 26. Sulphur and bitumen, which are found throughout the whole region, are very abundant, and traces of ancient igneous action are more obvious here than elsewhere.

THE DEAD SEA.

APPROACH TO ENGEDI.

Whilst the general character of the scenery is one of sterility and desolation, some of the wadies which run down to the sea are oases of the utmost fertility and beauty. Chief among these is that of Engedi or the Kid’s fountain. It runs out on the western side of the sea in the direction of Hebron. Fertilised by a rill of pure water, and having an almost tropical temperature, it forms a perfect garden. Even the Arabs, who are usually so insensible to natural beauty, speak of it with enthusiasm. My servant Mohammed, on one occasion gathered twenty-five different varieties of flowers in a few minutes. Solomon sums up his description of the charms of the Shunammitess by saying, “My beloved is unto me as a cluster of camphire on the vineyards of Engedi.”[^[92]] The vineyards, the palms and the balsam trees, which once abounded here, have disappeared, but traces of ancient cultivation remain to show what once it was and might be yet again.

Under its original name of Hazezon-Tamar (the pruning of the palm trees), it was the scene of the first pitched battle in an organized campaign which history records.[^[93]] Here, and in the adjoining Vale of Siddim, Chedorlaomer defeated his rebellous tributaries, the kings of Sodom, Gomorrah, Admah, Zeboim, and Zoar, carrying away Lot and his family amongst the captives.

Here amongst cliffs and precipices dwelt the Kenites when Balaam, looking across the valley from a height on the opposite side, uttered his impassioned prophecy, and said:

“Strong is thy dwellingplace

And thou puttest thy nest in a rock.

Nevertheless the Kenite shall be wasted,

Until Asshur shall carry thee away captive.”[^[94]]

Here, too, David retired when hard pressed by Saul. He had to leave the neighbourhood of Ziph and Maon, just as many an Arab sheikh is accustomed to do at the present day, to escape from the tyranny, or the justice, of the government. In these inaccessible fastnesses he was safe from pursuit, almost from discovery. Behind him was the wilderness of Judea. Before him were the mountains of Moab in case further retreat should seem expedient. And here it was that heroic chief mercifully spared the life of his pitiless foe when the “Lord had delivered him into his hand.”[^[95]]

In more modern times the shores of the Dead Sea have been associated with two tragic events which add to the gloomy memories which enshroud it. Among the mountains on the eastern side, looking down upon the gorge of the Callirhoe, is Makaur, the ancient Machærus, in which John the Baptist took his place among “the noble army of martyrs.” Dr. Tristram, the first European known to have visited it since the time of the Romans, says that he found amongst the ruins “two dungeons, one of them very deep, and its sides scarcely broken in. That these were dungeons, not cisterns, is evident from there being no traces of cement, which never perishes from the walls of ancient reservoirs, and from the small holes, still visible in the masonry, where staples of wood and iron had once been fixed. One of these must surely have been the prison-house of John the Baptist.” On the western shore stood Masada, the palace-fortress of Herod, in which was enacted the last awful tragedy in the Jewish war of independence. Jerusalem had fallen. One fortress after another had surrendered to the Romans. This impregnable stronghold alone remained, held by a band of men who, with the courage of despair, determined to die rather than to yield. The fatal moment at length arrived at which further resistance was impossible. Eleazar, son of Judas the Galilean, called the garrison together and urged upon them that death was to be preferred to dishonour. Each man thereupon stabbed his wife and children to the heart, and lying down beside those whom he loved, bared his neck to the ten who were chosen by lot to consummate the slaughter. One of these last survivors then slew the other nine and, having set fire to the building, stabbed himself. When the Romans entered the breach on the morning of Easter Day A.D. 73, they found nothing but corpses and smouldering ruins. Two women and five children, who had hidden themselves in the vaults, alone survived to tell the tale, nearly a thousand persons having perished.

MAKAUR, THE SITE OF ANCIENT MACHÆRUS.

But all other historical associations with this district shrink into insignificance in comparison with that fearful catastrophe, when the Lord overwhelmed and destroyed the guilty cities with fire from heaven. When “Lot lifted up his eyes, and beheld all the plain of Jordan, that it was well watered everywhere, even as the garden of the Lord,”[^[96]] he not only failed to take account of the licentiousness and “filthy conversation of the wicked,”[^[97]] choosing temporal wealth at the peril of his soul’s welfare; but he knew not or cared not that the soil was one vast arsenal filled with instruments of destruction. The cities rested upon a bed of sulphur and bitumen. They were built and cemented from “the slime-pits of Siddim.”[^[98]] When the longsuffering of God was exhausted and “the cry of Sodom and Gomorrah was very great and their sin very grievous,” the hour of judgment came. The destruction may have been altogether miraculous. Or it may have been brought about by miracle working through natural agencies. The whole region is volcanic. Lightnings flashing from heaven, and the bursting forth of the subterranean fires, may have turned the whole plain into “a burning fiery furnace,” in which not the cities only but the very soil on which they stood were turned into one vast sea of flame. Imagination shudders at the awful spectacle when “the smoke of the country went up like the smoke of a furnace.”

THE DEAD SEA NEAR MASADA.

The exact site of the cities thus destroyed cannot be decided with certainty. It has been commonly supposed that the Dead Sea covers the spot upon which they stood. Of this, however, we have no evidence in Scripture, and an examination of the geology of the district shows that it is impossible. Those who would locate them on the plain to the south of the Sea, urge in proof of their view an early and continuous tradition to this effect, the presence of a vast mountain of rock-salt which breaks up into isolated columns, the most remarkable of which has been called Lot’s wife, and the similarity of names, Usdum being identified with Sodom, Amrah with Gomorrah, and Zuweirah with Zoar. But the biblical narrative rather points to the conclusion that they stood on or near the northern shore where the “well-watered plain” of the Jordan, even to this day, attracts by its extraordinary fertility.[^[99]]

MAP OF THE DEAD SEA. SOUNDINGS IN FATHOMS.

It is only within the present generation that the physical conditions of the Dead Sea have been subjected to scientific investigation. Dean Stanley truly says, “Viewed merely in a scientific point of view, it is one of the most remarkable spots of the world.” At some remote period beyond the range of history or tradition, the Jordan seems to have flowed onward over what is now the elevated valley of Arabah into the Red Sea. By geological action, the nature of which cannot as yet be ascertained, the whole Jordan valley has sunk, so that the Sea of Galilee is probably six hundred feet, and the Dead Sea about thirteen hundred feet, below the level of the Mediterranean—a phenomenon without parallel on the earth’s surface. The sea itself is divided into two unequal parts by a projecting tongue of land, called by the Arabs El Lisan (the tongue). The northern portion is very deep; the greatest depth being given by Lieutenant Lynch at thirteen hundred and eight feet. Its bed, therefore, at this point would be twenty-six hundred feet below the level of the sea. The southern portion is much shallower, nowhere exceeding two fathoms. The depth, however, varies with the seasons. The total superficial area is about two hundred and fifty miles, which is nearly that of the Lake of Geneva. Its excessive density and saltness have been already referred to. Analysis gives the following results:

It will thus be seen that one fourth part of the waters of the Dead Sea consists of various salts.[^[100]] Hence its nauseous, bitter taste and its extraordinary density. My own experience was that I could not sink, however much I tried, and after bathing I found an acrid slime left upon the skin from which I could not rid myself for two or three days.

THE WELL OF BETHLEHEM.

JERICHO AND THE JORDAN TO JERUSALEM.

JERICHO AND THE JORDAN TO JERUSALEM.

LEAVING the sterile desolate shores of the Dead Sea, we ride in a north-westerly direction over a plain encrusted with salt and sulphur, through a morass overgrown by a jungle of reeds and rushes, and then enter upon the plain of the Jordan. The soil is cumbered with clumps of nubk, its thorns sharp as prongs of steel, and thickets of Zizyphus Spina Christi, from which tradition says that the crown of thorns was made. The osher or apple of Sodom, its flowers resembling those of the potato, its fruit green or yellow, attracts the eye by its deceitful beauty. Innumerable pools and rills of water, fed by the perennial fountains which spring up near the site of the ancient Jericho, nourish this rank and unprofitable vegetation. The climate is semitropical, in consequence of the deep depression of this part of the Jordan valley below the sea level. “Well watered” and with such a climate, the district once was and might still be, an Eden of fertility and beauty.[^[101]] Now its only settled inhabitants are a few wild and lawless, squalid and poverty-stricken Arabs.

ER RIHA, NEAR JERICHO.

Turning eastward, we soon reach the Fords of the Jordan, the traditional site of our Lord’s baptism and the present bathing place of the pilgrims. The river comes down from the Sea of Galilee in a turbid impetuous stream. It has cut its channel so deeply in the marly soil, that throughout the greater part of its course it is hidden from view. From any elevated point, however, it is easy to trace its course, from the fringe of bright green which marks it. Innumerable willows, oleanders, and tamarisks grow upon its banks and overhang the river-bed. Hence the incident recorded of the sons of the prophets, who, in the days of Elisha, went down to the Jordan to cut timber, one of whom let the head of a borrowed axe fall into the river.[^[102]]

PLAIN OF THE JORDAN NEAR JERICHO.

As we contrast this muddy, turbulent torrent, rushing unprofitably along its deep cut channel, with the clear bright waters of Damascus, which spread fertility and prosperity wherever they come, it is easy to understand the scornful words of Naaman the Syrian: “Are not Abana and Pharpar rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel?... So he turned and went away in a rage.”[^[103]]

ARABS IN PLAIN OF JERICHO.

Like the Dead Sea, the physical phenomena of the Jordan are absolutely unique. Emerging from the Sea of Galilee at a probable depression of six hundred feet below the level of the Mediterranean, it rushes along a narrow fissure of sixty miles in length; but doubling and winding as it goes, its actual course is two hundred miles. Starting from so low a level, its current might be expected to be slow and torpid. So far from this, it plunges over a series of rapids,[^[104]] and finally loses itself in the Dead Sea, to emerge no more, at a depth of thirteen hundred feet below the level of the Mediterranean. No river famous in history is so unproductive and useless. Like the Upper Rhone, its rapid torrent and its sudden violent floods,[^[105]] make it an object rather of dread than delight to the dwellers on its banks. Yet, even in these physical characteristics, we can see its admirable adaptation to the divine purpose. The Israelites were to be cut off from intercourse with the licentious idolaters on the east bank of the Dead Sea. A river easily crossed, with numerous fords and bridges, would have failed to answer this purpose. But the Jordan, though only from twenty to thirty yards wide, offered an almost insuperable barrier to intimate association, the fords being few and dangerous, and the floods rendering bridges almost impossible.

BANKS OF THE JORDAN.

THE JORDAN,
FROM THE SEA OF GALILEE TO THE DEAD SEA.

Crossing the plain in a westerly direction, we reach, in about an hour, a wretched village of mud huts, dominated by a single ruinous tower. Its modern name is Er Riha. Near it was the site of the ancient Gilgal. Here the column of stones, taken from the bed of the Jordan, was piled; here the first camp in the promised land was pitched; here the covenant with God was renewed by the celebration of the passover and the circumcision of the people; here “the manna ceased” and “they did eat of the old corn of the land, unleavened cakes and parched corn on the selfsame day;” and here it was that “the Captain of the Lord’s host,” with “a sword drawn in his hand,” appeared to Joshua to encourage him in the conflicts which yet awaited him.[^[106]] It is not to be wondered at that something of sanctity should attach to a spot hallowed with such memories and associations as these. Hence we find that the Tabernacle remained at Gilgal during the stormy period which followed till it was removed to its resting-place in Shiloh.[^[107]] And in after ages the people still assembled to offer sacrifices on the spot so memorable in their history.[^[108]] As this was in a certain sense the cradle, if not the birth-place, of the national existence, we find that it was at Gilgal that Saul was made king,[^[109]] and that the men of Judah assembled to reinstate David upon the throne on his return from exile.[^[110]] From the residence of Elijah and Elisha in Gilgal, and from the events which are recorded to have happened there, it is clear that a school of the prophets continued to exist on the site of the ancient sanctuary down to a late period of the monarchy.[^[111]]

The sad tendency to apostacy and idolatry which cast so deep a shadow over the history of the Jews, was specially manifest on this sacred spot, for we find Hosea and Amos singling out Gilgal for special censure and denunciation,[^[112]] teaching that no sanctity of place, no hallowed memories, no outward influences, can avail to check the corruptions of “an evil heart of unbelief in departing from the living God.”[^[113]]

SITE OF ANCIENT JERICHO, WITH MONS QUARANTANIA.

About half an hour after leaving Er Riha, we reach some mounds of crumbling debris at the foot of a range of barren precipitous mountains, which form the western boundary of the Jordan valley. It is the site of Jericho. The soil around it is fertile as ever. Its fountains still pour forth streams over the “well watered” plain. Nowhere has the primæval curse fallen more lightly. With the slightest effort on the part of man, the whole region would become a garden. But alas! it is a desolate waste. The Bedouin lead their flocks across the plain as did the patriarchs of old. But there is no other sign of human life. The groves of palm trees which once stretched for miles around the city and gave it its name,[^[114]] have disappeared. One solitary survivor lingered up to the year 1835, but this, too, has now perished. Nothing is left to break the depressing sense of solitude and desolation. The curse pronounced upon the doomed city still seems to linger amongst its ruins: “Cursed be the man before the Lord, that riseth up and buildeth this city of Jericho: he shall lay the foundation thereof in his first-born, and in his youngest son shall he set up the gates thereof.”[^[115]]

Standing upon the mounds which mark the site of the ancient city, and looking eastward, we have immediately behind us the range of mountains and table-land, which stretching westward, as far as the plains of Sharon, formed the territory of Judah and Benjamin. Before us is the plain of the Jordan here at its widest. The long wall-like chain of the mountains of Moab bounds the view on the east. Numerous ravines, each of which is memorable in the wars of the Israelites, intersect the range. The vast plains which stretch northward and eastward afford splendid grazing ground, now as of yore, when the flocks and herds of the Midianites wandered over them, when “Gilead was a place for cattle” and the “oaks,” “the rams,” and “the bulls of Bashan” were symbols of agricultural and pastoral wealth.[^[116]]

Looking across the valley, attention is arrested by the numerous conical hills rising from the flat table-land which is supported by the mountain chain. Many of these attain considerable height, not only from the plain below, but from the plateau on which they rest. Of these, one holds a conspicuous place in early Hebrew history. Balak, king of Moab, alarmed at the rapid and irresistible progress of the children of Israel, and despairing of checking their advance, sends across the Euphrates to bring thence the seer whose incantations may seduce or overcome the mighty God who had given them the victory. He knew not that—

“God is not a man that He should lie;

Neither the son of man that He should repent:

Hath He said, and shall He not do it?

Or hath He spoken, and shall He not make it good ...

Surely there is no enchantment against Jacob,

Neither is there any divination against Israel.”

He had brought the seer to the top of Pisgah, whence he might command a view of the encampment of Israel in the plain below and of the whole promised land. Vain are all sacrificial rites, all magical arts, all offers of wealth and power. He who was brought to curse can only bless, “And Balaam rose up and went to his place: and Balak also went his way.”[^[117]]

Yet again we find Israel encamped in the plains of Moab, on the eastern bank of the Jordan. Their forty years’ wanderings are ended. They are now to go in and possess the good land. But their heroic leader is not to go before them. Though “a hundred and twenty years old, his eye was not dim, nor his natural force abated.”[^[118]] He might, therefore, have looked forward to a further period of active service; at least he might have hoped to reap with his own hand the harvest for which he had toiled and waited so many weary years. But it was not to be. He must climb “the mountain of Nebo, to the top of Pisgah, that is over against Jericho”—the very height upon which Balaam had stood. There “the Lord showed him all the land of Gilead, unto Dan, and all Naphtali, and the land of Ephraim and Manasseh, and all the land of Judah, unto the utmost sea, and the south, and the plain of the valley of Jericho, the city of palm trees, unto Zoar.”[^[119]] Ignorance of the topography of Palestine has led many to conclude that this extended vision was physically impossible, to be accounted for only by miracle; or by the deniers of miracles, to be rejected as mythical and legendary. So far is this from being the case, that modern travellers, who have been permitted to

“Stand where Moses stood,

And view the landscape o’er,”

have described the scene in words which only fill up the outline of the inspired narrative. The whole extent of Palestine lies stretched out like a map from the snowy summit of Hermon on the north, to the Mediterranean on the west, and the granite peaks of Arabia on the south.

Innumerable legends have gathered about the death of Moses on Nebo. The Talmud abounds with them. Josephus rises to true pathos and poetry as he describes its traditionary incidents. The Mohammedans have wild weird myths of the war which raged amongst the spirits of good and evil around his dying form, and they perform pilgrimages to his legendary tomb on the mountain just above Jericho. All we know is that “Moses the servant of the Lord died there in the land of Moab, according to the word of the Lord. And He buried him in a valley in the land of Moab, over against Beth-peor; but no man knoweth of his sepulchre unto this day.”[^[120]] Even in Palestine itself there are few spots upon which the eye rests with a deeper sense of awe, and mystery, and reverential wonder than as we look across the Ghor of the Jordan and gaze upon this peak, glowing in the light of the setting sun, where the prophet of the Lord breathed his last earthly sigh, and awoke in the presence of his God.

As soon as the days of mourning for their great leader had been accomplished, his chivalrous successor set the host in motion. Passing, probably, down the Wady Hesban, they encamped in the valley of the Jordan. To cross the river in the presence of their enemies would at any time have been a difficult and dangerous operation. The fords were few, the river rapid, the banks steep. And Jordan was now in flood. It had filled up its banks and was absolutely impassable. Confiding, however, in divine aid, the signal to advance is given. The priests march first, bearing with them the ark. A mile in their rear are the tribes of Reuben, Gad, and half the tribe of Manasseh fully armed, so as to resist any attack made upon them by their foes.[^[121]] No sooner had the feet of the priests touched the brimming waters of the river, than the stream ceased to flow downward, being cut off at a point nearly thirty miles above, at the city of Zaretan, leaving the bed dry till the whole people had passed safely over. We are told, respecting the similar miracle of the crossing of the Red Sea, that “the Lord caused the sea to go back by a strong east wind all that night.”[^[122]] The enquiry suggests itself whether any natural agency, working under the control of a divine power can be suggested to account for this drying up of the Jordan. It has been already remarked that the whole region is volcanic and subject to earthquakes. It is, therefore, a possible conjecture that such a convulsion of nature may have occurred at this critical moment, so that for a time the bed of the Jordan was laid bare “from the city of Adam, that is beside Zaretan.”[^[123]] We need not, however, feel any anxiety to explain these divine interpositions by the action of natural laws. He who instituted the laws of nature and uses them for His purposes as He pleases, can, when it seems good to Him, dispense with them altogether. The fact of the miracle is certain, account for it how we please: “this is the Lord’s doing, and it is marvellous in our eyes.”

The siege of Jericho speedily followed. The same divine power which dried up the bed of the river (perhaps working through the same natural agency) caused the walls of the city to “fall down after they were compassed about seven days;” and Rahab, who had “received the spies with peace,” was spared to be enrolled amongst the chosen people, and even in the ancestry of our Lord, as the reward of her faith.[^[124]]

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]]

ELISHA’S FOUNTAIN, NEAR JERICHO.

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]]

Lent by the Palestine Exploration Fund.

BATHING-PLACE OF PILGRIMS ON THE JORDAN

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!

RUINED AQUEDUCT NEAR JERICHO.

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.

From a Sketch by Capt. Maian.

BETHANY.

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.

CHURCH ON THE SUMMIT OF THE MOUNT OF OLIVES.

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]]

ST. STEPHEN’S GATE.

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.

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.

TOMB OF ABSALOM.

PLAN OF JERUSALEM, FROM THE ORDNANCE SURVEY.

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.