From these sepulchres we returned toward the city again, and, just by

Herod's gate, were shown a grotto full of filthy water and mire. This

passes for the dungeon in which Jeremiah was kept by Zedekiah, till

enlarged by the charity of Ebed Melech[574]. At this place we concluded

our visits for that evening.

_March 29._—The next day being Easter-Monday, the mosolem, or governor

of the city, set out, according to custom, with several bands of

soldiers to convey the pilgrims to Jordan. Without this guard there is

no going thither, by reason of the multitude and insolence of the Arabs

in these parts. The fee to the mosolem for his company and soldiers upon

this occasion is twelve dollars for each Frank pilgrim, but if they be

ecclesiastics, six, which you must pay whether you are disposed to go

the journey or stay in the city. We went out at St. Stephen's gate,

being in all, of every nation and sex, about two thousand pilgrims.

Having crossed the Valley of Jehoshaphat, and part of Mount Olivet, we

came in half an hour to Bethany, at present only a small village. At

the first entrance into it is an old ruin which they call Lazarus's

Castle, supposed to have been the mansion-house of that favourite of our

Lord. At the bottom of a small descent, not far from the castle, is

shown the sepulchre out of which he was raised to a second mortality, by

that enlivening voice of Christ, "Lazarus, come forth." You descend into

the sepulchre by twenty-five steep stairs, at the bottom of which you

arrive first in a small square room, and from thence you creep down into

another lesser room, about a yard and a half deeper, in which the body

is said to have been laid. This place is held in great veneration by the

Turks, who use it for an oratory, and demand of all Christians a small

caphar for their admission into it.

About a bow-shot from thence, you pass by the place which they say was

Mary Magdalen's habitation, and then, descending a steep hill, you come

to the fountain of the Apostles; so called because, as the tradition

goes, those holy persons were wont to refresh themselves here in their

frequent travels between Jerusalem and Jericho. And indeed it is a thing

very probable, and no more than I believe is done by all that travel

this way, the fountain being close by the road-side, and very inviting

to the thirsty passenger.

From this place you proceed in an intricate way amongst hills and

valleys interchangeably, all of a very barren aspect at present, but

discovering evident signs of the labour of the husbandman in ancient

times. After some hours' travel in this sort of road, you arrive at the

mountainous desert into which our blessed Saviour was led by the Spirit

to be tempted by the devil. A most miserable, dry, barren place it is,

consisting of high rocky mountains, so torn and disordered, as if the

earth had here suffered some great convulsion, in which its very bowels

had been turned outwards. On the left hand, looking down in a deep

valley as we passed along, we saw some ruins of small cells and

cottages, which they told us were formerly the habitations of hermits

retiring thither for penance and mortification; and certainly there

could not be found in the whole earth a more comfortless and abandoned

place for that purpose. From the top of these hills of desolation, we

had, however, a delightful prospect of the mountains of Arabia, the Dead

Sea, and the Plain of Jericho, into which last place we descended, after

about five hours' march from Jerusalem. As soon as we entered the

plain, we turned up on the left hand, and going about one hour that way,

came to the foot of the Quarantania, which they say is the mountain into

which the devil took our blessed Saviour, when he tempted him with that

visionary scene of all the kingdoms and glories of the world. It is, as

St. Matthew styles it, an exceeding high mountain, and in its ascent not

only difficult, but dangerous. It has a small chapel at the top, and

another about half way up, founded upon a prominent part of the rock.

Near this latter are several caves and holes in the side of the

mountain, made use of anciently by hermits, and by some at this day, for

places to keep their Lent in, in imitation of that of our blessed

Saviour. In most of these grottoes we found certain Arabs quartered,

with fire-arms, who obstructed our ascent, demanding two hundred dollars

for leave to go up the mountain. So we departed without farther trouble,

not a little glad to have so good an excuse for not climbing so

dangerous a precipice.

Turning down from thence into the plain, we passed by a ruined aqueduct,

and a convent in the same condition, and in about a mile's riding came

to the fountain of Elisha, so called because miraculously purged from

its brackishness by the prophet, at the request of the men of

Jericho[575]. Its waters are at present received in a basin about nine

or ten paces long and five or six broad, and from thence, issuing out in

great plenty, divide themselves into several small streams, dispersing

their refreshment to all the field between this and Jericho, and

rendering it exceedingly fruitful. Close by the fountain grows a large

tree spreading into boughs over the water, and here, in the shade, we

took a collation with the father guardian, and about thirty or forty

friars more, who went this journey with us.

At about one-third of an hour's distance from hence is Jericho, at

present only a poor nasty village of the Arabs. We were here carried to

see a place where Zaccheus's house is said to have stood, which is only

an old square stone building, on the south side of Jericho. About two

furlongs from hence, the mosolem, with his people, had encamped; and not

far from them we took up our quarters this night.

_March 30._—The next morning we set out very early for Jordan, where

we arrived in two hours. We found the plain very barren as we passed

along it, producing nothing but a kind of samphire, and other such

marine plants. I observed in many places of the road, where puddles of

water had stood, a whiteness upon the surface of the ground, which upon

trial I found to be a crust of salt, caused by the water to rise out of

the earth, in the same manner as it does every year in the valley of

salt near Aleppo, after the winter's inundation. These saline

efflorescences I found at some leagues distance from the Dead Sea, which

demonstrates that the whole valley must be all over plentifully

impregnated with that mineral.

Within about a furlong of the river, at that place where we visited it,

there was an old ruined church and convent, dedicated to St. John, in

memory of the baptizing of our blessed Lord. It is founded as near as

could be conjectured to the very place where he had the honour to

perform that sacred office, and to wash Him who was infinitely purer

than the water itself. On the farther side of the aforementioned convent

there runs along a small descent, which you may fitly call the first and

outermost bank of Jordan; as far as which it may be supposed the river

does, or at least did anciently, overflow at some seasons of the year,

viz., at the time of harvest[576]; or, as it is expressed, Chron. xii.

1., in the first month, that is in March. But at present (whether it be

because the river has, by its rapidity of current, worn its channel

deeper than it was formerly, or whether because its waters are diverted

some other way,) it seems to have forgot its ancient greatness; for we

could discern no sign or probability of such overflowings when we were

there, which was the thirtieth of March, being the proper time for these

inundations. Nay, so far was the river from overflowing, that it ran at

least two yards below the brink of its channel.

After having descended the outermost bank, you go about a furlong upon a

level strand before you come to the immediate bank of the river. This

second bank is so beset with bushes and trees, such as tamarisk,

willows, oleanders, &c., that you can see no water till you have made

your way through them. In this thicket anciently (and the same is

reported of it at this day) several sorts of wild beasts are wont to

harbour themselves; whose being washed out of the covert by the

overflowings of the river, gave rise to that allusion, "He shall come up

like a lion from the swelling of Jordan."[577]

No sooner were we arrived at the river, and dismounted, in order to

satisfy that curiosity and devotion which brought us hither, but we were

alarmed by some troops of Arabs appearing on the other side and firing

at us, but at too great a distance to do any execution. This intervening

disturbance hindered the friars from performing their service prescribed

for this place, and seemed to put them in a terrible fear of their

lives, beyond what appeared in the rest of the company; though,

considering the sordidness of their present condition, and the

extraordinary rewards which they boast to be their due in the world to

come, one would think, in reason, they of all men should have the least

cause to discover so great a fear of death, and so much fondness of a

life like theirs.

But this alarm was soon over, and every one returned to his former

purpose; some stripped and bathed themselves in the river, others cut

down boughs from the trees, every man was employed one way or other to

take a memorial of this famous stream. The water was very turbid, and

too rapid to be swam against. For its breadth, it might be about twenty

yards over; and in depth it far exceeded my height. On the other side

there seemed to be a much larger thicket than on that where we were, but

we durst not swim over to take any certain account of that region for

fear of the Arabs, there being three guns fired just over against us,

and (as we might guess by their reports) very near the river.

Having finished our design here, we were summoned to return by the

mosolem, who carried us back to the middle of the plain; and there,

sitting under his tent, made us pass before him, man by man, to the end

he might take the more exact account of us, and lose nothing of his

caphar. We seemed at this place to be near the Dead Sea, and some of us

had a great desire to go nearer, and take a view of those prodigious

waters. But this could not be attempted without the licence of our

commander-in-chief. We therefore sent to request his permission for our

going, and a guard to attend us, both which he readily granted, and we

immediately prosecuted our purpose.

Coming within about half an hour of the sea, we found the ground

uneven, and varied into hillocks, much resembling those places in

England where there have been anciently lime-kilns. Whether these might

be the pits at which the kings of Sodom and Gomorrah were overthrown by

the four kings[578], I will not determine.

Coming near the sea, we passed through a kind of coppice, of bushes and

reeds; in the midst of which our guide, who was an Arab, showed us a

fountain of fresh water, rising not above a furlong from the sea; fresh

water he called it, but we found it brackish.

The Dead Sea is inclosed on the east and west with exceeding high

mountains; on the north it is bounded by the plain of Jericho, on which

side also it receives the waters of Jordan. On the south it is open, and

extends beyond the reach of the eye. It is said to be twenty-four

leagues long, and six or seven broad.

On the shore of the lake we found a black sort of pebble, which being

held in the flame of a candle soon burns, and yields a smoke of an

intolerable stench. It has this property, that it loses only of its

weight, but not of its bulk by burning. The hills bordering upon the

lake are said to abound with this sort of sulphureous stone. I saw

pieces of it at the convent of St. John, in the wilderness, two feet

square. They were carved in basso relievo, and polished to as great a

lustre as black marble is capable of, and were designed for the ornament

of the new church at the convent.

It is a common tradition, that birds attempting to fly over this sea

drop down dead into it; and that no fish, nor other sort of animal, can

endure these deadly waters. The former report I saw actually confuted,

by several birds flying about and over the sea without any visible harm;

the latter also I have some reason to suspect as false, having observed

amongst the pebbles on the shore two or three shells of fish resembling

oyster-shells. These were cast up by the waves, at two hours' distance

from the mouth of Jordan; which I mention, lest it should be suspected

that they might be brought into the sea that way.

As for the bitumen, for which the sea had been so famous, there was none

at the place where we were. But it is gathered near the mountains on

both sides in great plenty. I had several lumps of it brought me from

Jerusalem. It exactly resembles pitch, and cannot readily be

distinguished from it, but by the sulphureousness of its smell and

taste.

The water of the lake was very limpid, and salt to the highest degree;

and not only salt, but also extremely bitter and nauseous. Being willing

to make an experiment of its strength, I went into it, and found it bore

up my body in swimming with uncommon force. But as for that relation of

some authors, that men wading into it were buoyed up to the top, as soon

as they go as deep as the navel, I found it, upon experiment, not true.

Being desirous to see the remains (if there were any) of those cities

anciently situate in this place, and made so dreadful an example of the

divine vengeance, I diligently surveyed the waters as far as my eye

could reach; but neither could I discern any heaps of ruins, nor any

smoke ascending above the surface of the water, as is usually described

in the writings and maps of geographers. But yet I must not omit what

was confidently attested to me by the father guardian and procurator of

Jerusalem, both men in years, and seemingly not destitute either of

sense or probity; viz., that they had once actually seen one of these

ruins; that it was so near the shore, and the waters so shallow at that

time, that they, together with some Frenchmen, went to it, and found

there several pillars and other fragments of buildings. The cause of our

being deprived of this sight was, I suppose, the height of the water.

On the west side of the sea is a small promontory, near which, as our

guides told us, stood the monument of Lot's metamorphosed wife; part of

which (if they may be credited) is visible at this day. But neither

would the present occasion permit us to go and examine the truth of this

relation, nor, had the opportunity served, could we give faith enough to

their report to induce us to go on such an errand.

As for the apples of Sodom, so much talked of, I neither saw nor heard

of any hereabouts; nor was there any tree to be seen near the lake from

which one might expect such a kind of fruit[579], which induces me to

believe that there may be a greater deceit in this fruit than that which

is usually reported of it; and that its very being as well as its beauty

is a fiction, only kept up, as my Lord Bacon observes many other false

notions are, because it serves for a good allusion, and helps the poet

to a similitude.

In our return from the Dead Sea, at about one hour's distance from it,

we came to an old ruined Greek convent. There was good part of the

church remaining, with several pieces of painting entire; as the figures

of several Greek saints, and over the altar the representation of our

Lord's Last Supper, with this text of Holy Writ fairly inscribed Λάβετε

φάγετε, &c. Hereabout, and also in many other places of the plain, I

perceived a strong scent of honey and wax (the sun being very hot); and

the bees were very industrious about the blossoms of that salt weed

which the plain produces. In about an hour and a half more we returned

to our tents and company, at the same place where we slept the night

before; and there we spent this night also.

Amongst the products of this place I saw a very remarkable fruit, called

by the Arabs Za-cho-ne. It grows upon a thorny bush, with small leaves;

and both in shape and colour resembles a small unripe walnut. The

kernels of this fruit the Arabs bray in a mortar, and then, putting the

pulp into scalding water, they skim off an oil which rises to the top.

This oil they take inwardly for bruises, and apply it outwardly to green

wounds, preferring it before balm of Gilead. I procured a bottle of it,

and have found it upon some small trials a very healing medicine. The

roses of Jericho were not to be found at this season.

_March 31._—This morning we all decamped at half an hour after two, and

returning the same way by which we came, arrived in about six hours near

the walls of Jerusalem. Our company did not think fit to enter the city,

resolving to go immediately to Bethlehem; in order to which we turned

down into the valley of Jehoshaphat; and so, passing by the city,

instantly took the road to the place intended.

From Jerusalem to Bethlehem is but two hours' travel. The country

through which the road lies is the valley of Rephaim, as may be gathered

from Josephus[580], a valley so famous for being the theatre of David's

victories against the Philistines[581]. In the road you meet with these

following remarkable places: first, a place said to be the house of

Simeon, that venerable old prophet who, taking our blessed Saviour in

his arms, sung his nunc dimittis in the temple; secondly, the famous

turpentine tree, in the shade of which the blessed Virgin is said to

have reposed when she was carrying Christ in her arms to present him to

the Lord at Jerusalem; thirdly, a convent dedicated to St. Elias, the

impress of whose body the Greek monks residing here pretend to show in a

hard stone, which was wont to serve him for his bed. Near this convent

also is a well, where you are told it was that the star appeared to the

eastern magi to their exceeding joy. Fourthly, Rachel's tomb. This may

probably be the true place of her interment, mentioned in Gen. xxxv. 19;

but the present sepulchral monument can be none of that which Jacob

erected; for it appears plainly to be a modern and Turkish structure.

Near this monument is a little piece of ground, in which are picked up a

little sort of small, round stones, exactly resembling peas, concerning

which they have a tradition here that they were once truly what they now

seem to be; but that the blessed Virgin petrified them by a miracle, in

punishment to a surly rustic, who denied her the charity of a handful of

them to relieve her hunger.

Being arrived at Bethlehem, we immediately made a circular visit to all

the holy places belonging to it, as namely, the place where it is said

our blessed Lord was born; the manger in which it is said he was laid;

the chapel of St. Joseph, his supposed father; that of the Innocents;

those of St. Jerom, of St. Paula and Eustochium, and of Eusebius of

Cremona; and lastly, the school of St. Jerom; all which places it shall

suffice just to name.

From the top of the church we had a large prospect of the adjacent

country. The most remarkable places in view were Tekoah, situate on the

side of a hill about nine miles distant to the southward; Engedi,

distant about three miles eastward; and somewhat farther off, the same

way, a high, sharp hill called the mountain of the Franks, because

defended by a party of the crusaders forty years after the loss of

Jerusalem.

_April 1._—This morning we went to see some remarkable places in the

neighbourhood of Bethlehem. The first place that we directed our course

to was those famous fountains, pools, and gardens, about one hour and a

quarter distant from Bethlehem southward, said to have been the

contrivance and delight of king Solomon. To these works and places of

pleasure that great prince is supposed to allude[582] where, amongst

the other instances of his magnificence, he reckons up his gardens, and

vineyards, and pools.

As for the pools, they are three in number, lying in a row above each

other, being so disposed that the waters of the uppermost may descend

into the second, and those of the second into the third. Their figure is

quadrangular. The breadth is the same in all, amounting to about ninety

paces. In their length there is some difference between them, the first

being about one hundred and sixty paces long, the second two hundred,

the third two hundred and twenty. They are all lined with wall, and

plastered, and contain a great depth of water.

Close by the pools is a pleasant castle of a modern structure; and at

about the distance of one hundred and forty paces from them is the

fountain from which, principally, they derive their waters. This the

friars will have to be that "sealed fountain" to which the holy spouse

is compared[583]; and, in confirmation of this opinion, they pretend a

tradition that king Solomon shut up these springs, and kept the door of

them sealed with his signet, to the end that he might preserve the

waters for his own drinking in their natural freshness and purity. Nor

was it difficult thus to secure them, they rising under ground, and

having no avenue to them but by a little hole like to the mouth of a

narrow well. Through this hole you descend directly down, but not

without some difficulty, for about four yards, and then arrive in a

vaulted room fifteen paces long and eight broad. Joining to this is

another room of the same fashion, but somewhat less. Both these rooms

are covered with handsome stone arches, very ancient, and perhaps the

work of Solomon himself.

You find here four places at which the water rises. From those separate

sources it is conveyed, by little rivulets, into a kind of basin; and

from thence is carried, by a large subterraneous passage, down into the

pools. In the way, before it arrives at the pools, there is an aqueduct

of brick pipes, which receives part of the stream, and carries it, by

many turnings and windings about the mountains, to Jerusalem.

Below the pools there runs down a narrow, rocky valley, inclosed on both

sides with high mountains. This the friars will have to be the inclosed

garden alluded to in the same place of the Canticles before cited: "A

garden inclosed is my sister, my spouse; a spring shut up, a fountain

sealed." What truth there may be in this conjecture I cannot absolutely

pronounce. As to the pools, it is probable enough they may be the same

with Solomon's, there not being the like store of excellent spring water

to be met with any where else throughout all Palestine; but for the

gardens, one may safely affirm that, if Solomon made them in the rocky

ground which is now assigned for them, he demonstrated greater power and

wealth in finishing his design than he did wisdom in choosing the place

for it.

From these memorials of Solomon we returned towards Bethlehem again, in

order to visit some places nearer home. The places we saw were, the

field where it is said the shepherds were watching their flocks when

they received the glad tidings of the birth of Christ; and, not far from

the field, the village where they dwelt; and a little on the right hand

of the village, an old desolate nunnery built by St. Paula, and made the

more memorable by her dying in it. These places are all within about

half a mile of the convent, eastward; and with these we finished this

morning's work.

Having seen what is usually visited on the south and east of Bethlehem,

we walked out after dinner to the westward, to see what was remarkable

on that side. The first place we were guided to was the well of David,

so called because held to be the same that David so passionately

thirsted after[584]. It is a well (or rather a cistern) supplied only

with rain, without any natural excellency in its waters to make them

desirable; but it seems David's spirit had a farther aim.

About two furlongs beyond this well are to be seen some remains of an

old aqueduct, which anciently conveyed the waters from Solomon's pools

to Jerusalem. This is said to be the genuine work of Solomon, and may

well be allowed to be in reality what it is pretended for. It is carried

all along upon the surface of the ground, and is composed of stones ...

feet square, and ... thick, perforated with a cavity of ... inches

diameter, to make the channel. These stones are let into each other,

with a fillet framed round about the cavity to prevent leakage, and

united to each other with so firm a cement that they will sometimes

sooner break (though a kind of coarse marble) than endure a separation.

This train of stones was covered, for its greater security, with a case

of smaller stones, laid over it in a very strong mortar. The whole work

seems to be endued with such absolute firmness as if it had been

designed for eternity; but the Turks have demonstrated, in this

instance, that nothing can be so well wrought but they are able to

destroy it; for of this strong aqueduct, which was carried formerly five

or six leagues, with so vast expense and labour, you see now only here

and there a fragment, remaining.

Returning from this place, we went to see the Greek and Armenian

convents, which are contiguous to that of the Latins, and have each

their several doors opening into the chapel of the holy manger. The next

place we went to see was the grotto of the blessed Virgin. It is within

thirty or forty yards of the convent, and is reverenced upon the account

of a tradition that the blessed Virgin here hid herself and her divine

babe from the fury of Herod for some time before their departure into

Egypt. The grot is hollowed into a chalky rock; but this whiteness they

will have to be not natural, but to have been occasioned by some

miraculous drops of the blessed Virgin's milk, which fell from her

breast while she was suckling the holy infant; and so much are they

possessed with this opinion, that they believe the chalk of this grotto

has a miraculous virtue for increasing women's milk; and I was assured,

from many hands, that it is very frequently taken by the women

hereabouts, as well Turks and Arabs as Christians, for that purpose, and

that with very good effect; which perhaps may be true enough, it being

well known how much fancy is wont to do in things of this nature.

_April 2._—The next morning, presenting the guardian with two chequeens

apiece for his civilities to us, we took our leave of Bethlehem,

designing just to visit the wilderness and convent of St. John the

Baptist, and so return to Jerusalem.

In this stage we first crossed part of that famous valley in which it is

said that the angel, in one night, did such prodigious execution in the

army of Sennacherib. Having travelled about half an hour, we came to a

village called Booteshellah, concerning which they relate this

remarkable property, that no Turk can live in it above two years. By

virtue of this report, whether true or false, the Christians keep the

village to themselves without molestation, no Turk being willing to

stake his life in experimenting the truth of it. In somewhat less than

an hour more we came to the fountain where they told us, but falsely,

that Philip baptized the Ethiopian eunuch. The passage here is so rocky

and uneven that pilgrims, finding how difficult the road is for a single

horseman, are ready to think it impossible that a chariot, such as the

eunuch rode in[585], should ever have been able to go this way; but it

must not be judged what the road was in ancient times by what the

negligence of the Turks have now reduced it to; for I observed, not far

from the fountain, a place where the rock had been cut away in old time,

in order to lay open a good road, by which it may be supposed that the

same care was used all along this passage, though now time and

negligence have obliterated both the fruit and almost the signs of such

labour.

A little beyond this fountain we came to that which they call the

village of St. Philip, at which, ascending a very steep hill, we arrived

at the wilderness of St. John. A wilderness it is called, as being very

rocky and mountainous: but is well cultivated, and produces plenty of

corn, and vines, and olive trees. After a good hour's travel in this

wilderness, we came to the cave and fountain where, as they say, the

Baptist exercised those severe austerities related of him[586]. Near

this cell there still grow some old locust trees, the monuments of the

ignorance of the middle times[587]. These the friars aver to be the very

same that yielded sustenance to the Baptist; and the Popish pilgrims,

who dare not be wiser than such blind guides, gather the fruit of them,

and carry it away with great devotion.

Having done with this place, we directed our course towards the convent

of St. John, which is about a league distant eastward. In our way we

passed along one side of the valley of Elah, where David slew the giant,

that defier of the army of Israel[588]. We had likewise in sight Modon,

a village on the top of a high hill, the burying-place of those

heroical defenders of their country, the Maccabees.

Being come near the convent, we were led a little out of the way to

visit a place which they call the house of Elizabeth, the mother of the

Baptist. This was formerly a convent also, but it is now a heap of

ruins, and the only remarkable place left in it is a grotto, in which

(you are told) it was that the blessed Virgin saluted Elizabeth, and

pronounced her divine magnificat[589].

The present convent of St. John, which is now inhabited, stands about

three furlongs distance from this house of Elizabeth, and is supposed to

be built at the place where St. John was born. If you chance to ask how

it came to pass that Elizabeth lived in one house when she was big with

the Baptist, and in another when she brought him forth, the answer you

are like to receive is, that the former was her country, the latter her

city habitation, and that it is no wonder for a wife of one of the

priests of better rank, such as she was[590], to be provided with such

variety.

The convent of St. John has been, within these four years, rebuilt from

the ground. It is at present a large square building, uniform and neat

all over; but that which is most eminently beautiful in it is its

church. It consists of three aisles, and has in the middle a handsome

cupola, under which is a pavement of mosaic, equal to, if not exceeding,

the finest works of the ancients of that kind. At the upper end of the

north aisle you go down seven marble steps, to a very splendid altar,

erected over the very place where they say the holy Baptist was born.

Here are artificers still employed in adding farther beauty and ornament

to this convent, and yet it has been so expensive a work already, that

the friars themselves give out that there is not a stone laid in it but

has cost them a dollar; which, considering the large sums exacted by the

Turks for licence to begin fabrics of this nature, and also their

perpetual extortion and avarrias afterwards, besides the necessary

charge of building, may be allowed to pass for no extravagant hyperbole.

Returning from St. John's toward Jerusalem, we came in about three

quarters of an hour to a convent of the Greeks, taking its name from the

holy cross. This convent is very neat in its structure, and in its

situation delightful. But that which most deserves to be noted in it, is

the reason of its name and foundation. It is because there is the earth

that nourished the root, that bore the tree, that yielded the timber,

that made the cross. Under the high altar you are shown a hole in the

ground where the stump of the tree stood, and it meets with not a few

visitants so much more very stocks than itself as to fall down and

worship it. This convent is not above half an hour from Jerusalem; to

which place we returned this evening, being the fifth day from our

departure hence.

After our return, we were invited into the convent to have our feet

washed, a ceremony performed to each pilgrim by the father guardian

himself. The whole society stands around, singing some Latin hymns, all

the while the father guardian is doing his office; and when he has done,

every friar comes in order, and kisses the feet of the pilgrim. All this

was performed with great order and solemnity; and if it served either to

testify a sincere humility and charity in them, or to improve those

excellent graces in others, it might pass for no unuseful ceremony.

_April 3._—We went about mid-day to see the function of the Holy

Fire[591]. This is a ceremony kept up by the Greeks and Armenians, upon

a persuasion that every Easter-Eve there is miraculous flame descends

from heaven into the holy sepulchre, and kindles all the lamps and

candles there, as the sacrifice was burnt at the prayers of Elijah[592].

Coming to the church of the Holy Sepulchre, we found it crowded with a

numerous and distracted mob, making a hideous clamour very unfit for

that sacred place, and better becoming Bacchanals than Christians.

Getting with some struggle through the crowd, we went up into the

gallery on that side of the church next the Latin convent, whence we

could discern all that passed in this religious frenzy.

They began their disorders by running round the holy sepulchre with all

their might and swiftness, crying out, as they went, "Huia!" which

signifies "this is he," or "this is it," an expression by which they

assert the verity of the Christian religion. After they had, by these

vertiginous circulations and clamours, turned their heads and inflamed

their madness, they began to act the most antic tricks and postures, in

a thousand shapes of distraction. Sometimes they dragged one another

along the floor all round the sepulchre; sometimes they set one man

upright on another's shoulders, and in this posture marched round;

sometimes they took men with their heels upward, and hurried them about

in such an indecent manner as to expose their nudities; sometimes they

tumbled round the sepulchre after the manner of tumblers on the stage.

In a word, nothing can be imagined more rude or extravagant than what

was acted upon this occasion.

In this tumultuous frantic humour they continued from twelve till four

o'clock: the reason of which delay was, because of a suit that was then

in debate before the cadi, betwixt the Greeks and Armenians, the former

endeavouring to exclude the latter from having any share in this

miracle. Both parties having expended, as I was informed, five thousand

dollars between them in this foolish controversy, the cadi at last gave

sentence that they should enter the holy sepulchre together, as had been

usual at former times. Sentence being thus given, at four o'clock both

nations went on with their ceremony. The Greeks first set out, in a

procession round the holy sepulchre, and immediately at their heels

followed the Armenians. In this order they compassed the holy sepulchre

thrice, having produced all their gallantry of standards, streamers,

crucifixes, and embroidered habits upon this occasion.

Towards the end of this procession, there was a pigeon came fluttering

into the cupola over the sepulchre, at sight of which there was a

greater shout and clamour than before. This bird, the Latins told us,

was purposely let fly by the Greeks, to deceive the people into an

opinion that it was a visible descent of the Holy Ghost.

The procession being over, the suffragan of the Greek patriarch (he

being himself at Constantinople), and the principal Armenian bishop,

approached to the door of the sepulchre, and, cutting the string with

which it is fastened and sealed, entered in, shutting the door after

them, all the candles and lamps within having been before extinguished,

in the presence of the Turks and other witnesses. The exclamations were

doubled as the miracle drew nearer to its accomplishment, and the people

pressed with such vehemence towards the door of the sepulchre, that it

was not in the power of the Turks set to guard it, with the severest

drubs, to keep them off. The cause of their pressing in this manner is

the great desire they have to light their candles at the holy flame as

soon as it is first brought out of the sepulchre, it being esteemed the

most sacred and pure, as coming immediately from heaven.

The two miracle-mongers had not been above a minute in the holy

sepulchre, when the glimmering of the holy fire was seen, or imagined to

appear, through some chinks of the door; and certainly Bedlam itself

never saw such an unruly transport as was produced in the mob at this

sight. Immediately after, out came the two priests with blazing torches

in their hands, which they held up at the door of the sepulchre, while

the people thronged about with inexpressible ardour, every one striving

to obtain a part of the first and purest flame. The Turks, in the

meantime, with huge clubs, laid on them without mercy; but all this

could not repel them, the excess of their transport making them

insensible of pain. Those that got the fire applied it immediately to

their beards, faces, and bosoms, pretending that it would not burn like

an earthly flame. But I plainly saw none of them could endure this

experiment long enough to make good that pretension.

So many hands being employed, you may be sure it could not be long

before innumerable tapers were lighted. The whole church, galleries, and

every place, seemed instantly to be in a flame, and with this

illumination the ceremony ended.

It must be owned, that those two within the sepulchre performed their

part with great quickness and dexterity; but the behaviour of the rabble

without very much discredited the miracle. The Latins take a great deal

of pains to expose this ceremony, as a most shameful imposture, and a

scandal to the Christian religion; perhaps out of envy that others

should be masters of so gainful a business. But the Greeks and Armenians

pin their faith upon it, and make their pilgrimages chiefly upon this

motive. And it is the deplorable unhappiness of their priests, that

having acted the cheat so long already, they are forced now to stand to

it, for fear of endangering the apostasy of their people.

Going out of the church after the rout was over, we saw several people

gathered about the stone of unction, who, having got a good store of

candles lighted with the holy fire, were employed in daubing pieces of

linen with the wicks of them and the melting wax, which pieces of linen

were designed for winding sheets; and it is the opinion of these poor

people, that if they can but have the happiness to be buried in a shroud

smutted with this celestial fire, it will certainly secure them from the

flames of hell.

_Sunday, April 4._—This day being our Easter, we did not go abroad to

visit any places, the time requiring an employment of another nature.

_April 5._—This morning we went to see some more of the curiosities

which had been yet unvisited by us. The first place we came to was that

which they call St. Peter's prison, from which he was delivered by the

angel[593]. It is close to the church of the Holy Sepulchre, and still

serves its primitive use. About the space of a furlong from thence, we

came to an old church, held to have been built by Helena, in the place

where stood the house of Zebedee. This is in the hands of the Greeks,

who tell you, that Zebedee, being a fisherman, was wont to bring fish

from Joppa thither, and to vend it at this place. Not far from hence we

came to the place where, they say, stood anciently the iron gate, which

opened to Peter of its own accord. A few steps farther is the small

church built over the house of Mark, to which the apostle directed his

course after his miraculous gaol-delivery. The Syrians, who have this

place in their custody, pretend to show you the very window at which

Rhoda looked out, while Peter knocked at the door. In the church they

show a Syriac manuscript of the New Testament in folio, pretended to be

eight hundred and fifty-two years old, and a little stone font used by

the Apostles themselves in baptizing. About one hundred and fifty paces

farther in the same street, is that which they call the house of St.

Thomas, converted formerly into a church, but now a mosque. Not many

paces farther is another street crossing the former, which leads you, on

the right hand, to the place where they say our Lord appeared, after his

Resurrection, to the three Marys[594]. Three Marys, the friars tell you,

though in that place of St. Matthew mention is made but of two. The same

street carries you, on the left hand, to the Armenian convent. The

Armenians have here a very large and delightful space of ground, their

convent and gardens taking up all that part of Mount Sion which is

within the walls of the city. Their church is built over the place where

they say St. James, the brother of John, was beheaded[595]. In a small

chapel, on the north side of the church, is shown the very place of his

decollation. In this church are two altars set out with extraordinary

splendour, being decked with rich mitres, embroidered copes, crosses,

both silver and gold, crowns, chalices, and other church utensils,

without number. In the middle of the church is a pulpit made of

tortoise-shell and mother of pearl, with a beautiful canopy, or cupola

over it, of the same fabric. The tortoise-shell and mother of pearl are

so exquisitely mingled and inlaid in each other, that the work far

exceeds the materials. In a kind of anti-chapel to this church, there

are laid up, on one side of the altar, three large rough stones,

esteemed very precious, as being, one of them, the stone upon which

Moses cast the two Tables, when he broke them, in indignation at the

idolatry of the Israelites; the other two being brought, one from the

place of our Lord's Baptism, the other from that of his Transfiguration.

Leaving this convent we went a little farther to another small church,

which was likewise in the hands of the Armenians. This is supposed to be

founded in the place where Annas's house stood. Within the church, not

far from the door, is shown a hole in the wall, denoting the place where

one of the officers of the high priest smote our blessed Saviour[596].

The officer, by whose impious hand that buffet was given, the friars

will have to be the same Malchus whose ear our Lord had healed. In the

court before this chapel is an olive tree, of which it is reported, that

Christ was chained to it for some time, by order of Annas, to secure him

from escaping.

From the house of Annas we were conducted out of Sion Gate, which is

near adjoining to that which they call the house of Caiaphas, which is

another small chapel belonging also to the Armenians. Here, under the

altar, they tell us is deposited that very stone which was laid to

secure the door of our Saviour's sepulchre[597]. It was a long time kept

in the church of the sepulchre; but the Armenians, not many years since,

stole it from thence by a stratagem, and conveyed it to this place. The

stone is two yards and a quarter long, high one yard, and broad as much.

It is plastered all over, except in five or six little places, where it

is left bare to receive the immediate kisses and other devotions of

pilgrims. Here is likewise shown a little cell, said to have been our

Lord's prison till the morning when he was carried from hence before

Pilate; and also the place where Peter was frightened into a denial of

his Master.

A little farther without the gate is the church of the Cœnaculum, where

they say Christ instituted his Last Supper. It is now a mosque, and not

to be seen by Christians. Near this is a well, which is said to mark out

the place at which the Apostles divided from each other, in order to go

every man to his several charge; and close by the well are the ruins of

a house in which the blessed Virgin is supposed to have breathed her

last. Going eastward, a little way down the hill, we were shown the

place where a Jew arrested the corpse of the blessed Virgin, as she was

carried to her interment, for which impious presumption he had his hand

withered wherewith he had seized the bier. About as much lower in the

middle of the hill, they show you the grotto in which St. Peter wept so

bitterly for his inconstancy to his Lord.

We extended our circuit no farther at this time, but entered the city

again at Sion Gate. Turning down as soon as we had entered, on the right

hand, and going about two furlongs close by the city wall, we were taken

into a garden lying at the foot of Mount Moriah, on the south side. Here

we were shown several large vaults annexed to the mountain on this side,

and running at least fifty yards under ground. They were built in two

isles, arched at top with huge firm stone, and sustained with tall

pillars consisting each of one single stone, and two yards in diameter.

This might possibly be some under-ground work made to enlarge the area

of the temple, for Josephus seems to describe some such work as this,

erected over the valley on this side of the temple[598].

From these vaults we returned towards the convent. In our way we passed

through the Turkish bazaars, and took a view of the Beautiful Gate of

the Temple. But we could but just view it in passing, it not being safe

to stay here long, by reason of the superstition of the Turks.

_April 6._—The next morning we took another progress about the city. We

made our exit at Bethlehem Gate, and turning down on the left hand under

the castle of the Pisans, came about a furlong and a half to that which

they call Bathsheba's Pool. It lies at the bottom of Mount Sion, and is

supposed to be the same in which Bathsheba was washing herself, when

David spied her from the terrace of his palace. But others refer this

accident to another lesser pool in a garden just within Bethlehem Gate;

and perhaps both opinions are equally right.

A little below this pool begins the valley of Hinnom, on the west side

of which is the place called anciently the Potter's Field, and

afterwards the Field of Blood, from its being purchased with the pieces

of silver which were the price of the blood of Christ; but at present,

from that veneration which it has obtained among Christians, it is

called Campo Sancto. It is a small plot of ground not above thirty yards

long, and about half as much broad. One moiety of it is taken up by a

square fabric twelve yards high, built for a charnel-house. The corpses

are let down into it from the top, there being five holes left open for

that purpose. Looking down through these holes we could see many bodies

under several degrees of decay, from which it may be conjectured that

this grave does not make that quick despatch with the corpses committed

to it, which is commonly reported. The Armenians have the command of

this burying place, for which they pay the Turks a rent of one seuin a

day. The earth is of a chalky substance hereabouts.

A little below the Campo Sancto is shown an intricate cave or sepulchre

consisting of several rooms, one within another, in which the apostles

are said to have hid themselves, when they forsook their Master, and

fled. The entrance of the cave discovers signs of its having been

adorned with painting in ancient times.

A little farther, the valley of Hinnom terminates, that of Jehoshaphat

running across the mouth of it. Along the bottom of this latter valley

runs the brook Cedron; a brook in wintertime, but without the least drop

of water in it all the time we were at Jerusalem.

In the valley of Jehoshaphat, the first thing you are carried to is the

well of Nehemiah; so called because reputed to be the same place from

which the restorer of Israel recovered the fire of the altar, after the

Babylonish captivity[599]. A little higher in the valley, on the left

hand, you come to a tree supposed to mark out the place where the

Evangelical Prophet was sawn asunder. About one hundred paces higher, on

the same side, is the pool of Siloam. It was anciently dignified with a

church built over it; but, when we were there, a tanner made no scruple

to dress his hides in it. Going about a furlong farther on the same

side, you come to the fountain of the blessed Virgin, so called, because

she was wont (as is reported) to resort hither for water; but at what

time and upon what occasions is not yet agreed. Over against this

fountain, on the other side of the valley, is a village called Siloe, in

which Solomon is said to have kept his strange wives; and above the

village is a hill called the Mountain of Offence, because there Solomon

built the high places mentioned in 1 Kings xi. 7, his wives having

perverted his wise heart to follow their idolatrous abominations in his

declining years. On the same side, and not far distant from Siloe, they

show another Aceldama, or Field of Blood; so called because there it was

that Judas, by the just judgment of God, met with his compounded

death[600]. A little farther on the same side of the valley, they showed

us several Jewish monuments. Amongst the rest there are two noble

antiquities, which they call the sepulchre of Zachary and the pillar of

Absolom. Close by the latter is the sepulchre of Jehoshaphat, from which

the whole valley takes its name.

Upon the edge of the hill, on the opposite side of the valley, there

runs along, in a direct line, the wall of the city, near the corner of

which there is a short end of a pillar jutting out of the wall. Upon

this pillar, the Turks have a tradition that Mohammed shall sit in

judgment at the last day; and that all the world shall be gathered

together in the valley below, to receive their doom from his mouth. A

little farther northward is the gate of the Temple. It is at present

walled up, because the Turks here have a prophecy that their destruction

shall enter at that gate, the completion of which prediction they

endeavour by this means to prevent. Below this gate, in the bottom of

the valley, is a broad hard stone, discovering several impressions on

it, which you may fancy to be footsteps. These, the friars tell you, are

prints made by our blessed Saviour's feet, when, after his apprehension,

he was hurried violently away to the tribunal of his blood-thirsty

persecutors.

From hence, keeping still in the bottom of the valley, you come in a few

paces to a place which they call the sepulchre of the blessed Virgin. It

has a magnificent descent down into it of forty-seven stairs; on the

right hand as you go down is the sepulchre of St. Anna, the mother, and

on the left that of St. Joseph, the husband of the blessed Virgin.

Having finished our visit to this place, we went up the hill toward the

city. In the side of the ascent we were shown a broad stone on which

they say St. Stephen suffered martyrdom; and not far from it is a

grotto, into which they tell you the outrageous Jewish zealots cast his

body, when they had satiated their fury upon him. From hence we went

immediately to St. Stephen's Gate, so called from its vicinity to this

place of the protomartyr's suffering, and so returned to our lodging.

_April 7._—The next morning we set out again, in order to see the

sanctuaries and other visitable places upon Mount Olivet. We went out at

St. Stephen's Gate, and, crossing the Valley of Jehoshaphat, began

immediately to ascend the mountains. Being got about two-thirds of the

way up, we came to certain grottos cut with intricate windings and

caverns under ground; these are called the sepulchres of the prophets. A

little higher up are twelve arched vaults under ground, standing side by

side; these were built in memory of the twelve apostles, who are said to

have compiled their creed in this place. Sixty paces higher you come to

the place where they say Christ uttered his prophecy concerning the

final destruction of Jerusalem[601]. And a little on the right hand of

this is the place where they say he dictated a second time the Pater

Noster to his disciples[602]. Somewhat higher is the cave of St.

Pelagia; and as much more above that, a pillar, signifying the place

where an angel gave the blessed Virgin three days' warning of her death.

At the top of the hill you come to the place of our blessed Lord's

ascension. Here was anciently a large church, built in honour of that

glorious triumph, but all that now remains of it is only an octagonal

cupola, about eight yards in diameter, standing, as they say, over the

very place where were set the last footsteps of the Son of God here on

earth. Within the cupola there is seen, in a hard stone, as they tell

you, the print of one of his feet. Here was also that of the other foot

some time since, but it has been removed from hence by the Turks into

the great mosque upon Mount Moria. This chapel of the Ascension the

Turks have the custody of, and use it for a mosque. There are many other

holy places about Jerusalem, which the Turks pretend to have a

veneration for, equally with the Christians, and under that pretence

they take them into their own hands. But whether they do this out of

real devotion, or for lucre's sake, and to the end that they may exact

money from the Christians for admission into them, I will not determine.

About two furlongs from this place, northward, is the highest part of

Mount Olivet; and upon that was anciently erected a high tower, in

memory of that apparition of the two angels to the apostles after our

blessed Lord's ascension[603], from which the tower itself had the name

given it of Viri Galilæi! This ancient monument remained till about two

years since, when it was demolished by a Turk, who had bought the field

in which it stood; but nevertheless you have still, from the natural

height of the place, a large prospect of Jerusalem and the adjacent

country, and of the Dead Sea, &c.

From this place we descended the mount again by another road. At about

the midway down they show you the place where Christ beheld the city and

wept over it[604]. Near the bottom of the hill is a great stone, upon

which you are told the blessed Virgin let fall her girdle after her

assumption, in order to convince St. Thomas, who, they say, was troubled

with a fit of his old incredulity upon this occasion. There is still to

be seen a small winding channel upon the stone, which they will have to

be the impression made by the girdle when it fell, and to be left for

the conviction of all such as shall suspect the truth of their story of

the assumption.

About twenty yards lower they show you Gethsemane, an even plot of

ground not above fifty-seven yards square, lying between the foot of

Mount Olivet and the brook Cedron. It is well planted with olive trees,

and those of so old a growth, that they are believed to be the same that

stood here in our blessed Saviour's time, in virtue of which persuasion

the olives, and olive stones, and oil, which they produce, became an

excellent commodity in Spain; but that these trees cannot be so ancient

as is pretended is evident from what Josephus testifies[605], viz. that

Titus, in his siege of Jerusalem, cut down all the trees within about

one hundred furlongs of Jerusalem; and that the soldiers were forced to

fetch wood so far for making their mounts when they assaulted the

temple.

At the upper corner of the garden is a flat, naked ledge of rock,

reputed to be the place on which the apostles, Peter, James, and John,

fell asleep during the agony of our Lord; and a few paces from hence is

a grotto, said to be the place in which Christ underwent that bitter

part of his passion.

About eight paces from the place where the apostles slept is a small

shred of ground, twelve yards long and one broad, supposed to be the

very path on which the traitor Judas walked up to Christ, saying "Hail

Master, and kissed him." This narrow path is separated by a wall out of

the midst of the garden, as a terra damnata, a work the more remarkable

as being done by the Turks, who, as well as Christians, detest the very

ground on which was acted such an infamous treachery.

From hence we crossed the brook Cedron, close by the reputed sepulchre

of the blessed Virgin, and, entering at St. Stephen's Gate, returned

again to the convent.

_April 8._—We went to see the palace of Pilate, I mean the place where

they say it stood; for now an ordinary Turkish house possesses its room.

It is not far from the gate of St. Stephen, and borders upon the area of

the temple on the north side. From the terrace of this house you have a

fair prospect of all the place where the temple stood; indeed the only

good prospect that is allowed you of it; for there is no going within

the borders of it without forfeiting your life, or, which is worse, your

religion. A fitter place for an august building could not be found in

the whole world than this area. It lies upon the top of Mount Moriah,

over against Mount Olivet, the valley of Jehoshaphat lying between both

mountains. It is, as far as I could compute by walking round it without,

five hundred and seventy of my paces in length, and three hundred and

seventy in breadth; and one may still discern marks of the great labour

that it cost to cut away the hard rock, and to level such a spacious

area upon so strong a mountain. In the middle of the area stands, at

present, a mosque, of an octagonal figure, supposed to be built upon

the same ground where anciently stood the sanctum sanctorum. It is

neither eminent for its largeness nor its structure; and yet it makes a

very stately figure by the sole advantage of its situation.

In this pretended house of Pilate is shown the room in which Christ was

mocked with the ensigns of royalty and buffeted by the soldiers. At the

coming out of the house is a descent, where was anciently the scala

sancta. On the other side of the street (which was anciently part of the

palace also) is the room where they say our Lord was scourged. It was

once used for a stable by the son of a certain pasha of Jerusalem; but

presently, for this profanation, they say there came such a mortality

amongst his horses as forced him to resign the place; by which means it

was redeemed from that sordid use; but, nevertheless, when we were

there, it was no better than a weaver's shop. In our return from

Pilate's palace we passed along the Dolorous Way, in which walk we were

shown in order, first, the place where Pilate brought our Lord forth, to

present to the people, with this mystic saying, "Behold the Man!"

secondly, where Christ fainted thrice under the weight of his cross;

thirdly, where the blessed Virgin swooned away at so tragical a

spectacle; fourthly, where St. Veronica presented to him the

handkerchief to wipe his bleeding brows; fifthly, where the soldiers

compelled Simon the Cyrenian to bear his cross; all which places I need

only to name.

_April 9._—We went to take a view of that which they call the pool of

Bethesda. It is one hundred and twenty paces long, and forty broad, and

at least eight deep, but void of water. At its west end it discovers

some old arches, now dammed up. These some will have to be the five

porches in which sat that multitude of lame, halt, and blind[606]; but

the mischief is, instead of five, there are but three of them. The pool

is contiguous on one side to St. Stephen's Gate, on the other to the

area of the temple.

From hence we went to the convent or nunnery of St. Anne. The church

here is large and entire, and so are part of the lodgings; but both are

desolate and neglected. In a grotto under the church is shown the place

where they say the blessed Virgin was born. Near this church they show

the Pharisee's house, where Mary Magdalen exhibited those admirable

evidences of a penitent affection towards our Saviour, "washing his feet

with her tears, and wiping them with her hair."[607] This place also has

been anciently dignified with holy buildings, but they are now

neglected.

This was our morning's work. In the afternoon we went to see Mount

Gihon, and the pool of the same name. It lies about two furlongs without

Bethlehem Gate, westward. It is a stately pool, one hundred and sixty

paces long and sixty-seven broad, and lined with wall and plaster, and

was, when we were there, well stored with water.

_April 10._—We went to take our leaves of the holy sepulchre, this

being the last time it was to be opened this festival.

Upon this finishing day, and the night following, the Turks allow free

admittance for all people, without demanding any fee for entrance as at

other times, calling it a day of charity. By this promiscuous licence

they let in not only the poor, but, as I was told, the lewd and vicious

also, who come thither to get convenient opportunity for prostitution,

profaning the holy places in such manner (as it is said) that they were

not worse defiled even when the heathens here celebrated their

aphrodisia.

_Sunday, April 11._—Now began the Turks' Byram, that is the feast which

they celebrate after their Lent, called by them Ramadan. This being a

time of great libertinism among the rabble, we thought it prudent to

confine ourselves to our lodgings for some time, to the end that we

might avoid such insolences as are usual in such times of public

festivity. Our confinement was the less incommodious, because there was

hardly any thing, either within or about the city, which we had not

already visited.

_April 12, 13._—We kept close to our quarters, but, however, not in

idleness; the time being now come when we were to contrive and provide

things in order for our departure. We had a bad account, from all hands,

of the country's being more and more embroiled by the Arabs, which made

us somewhat unresolved what way and method to take for our return; but

during our suspense it was told us that the mosolem was likewise upon

his return to his master, the pasha of Tripoli, upon which intelligence

we resolved, if possible, to join ourselves to his company.

_April 14._—We went, with a small present in our hands, to wait upon

the mosolem, in order to inquire the time of his departure and acquaint

him with our desire to go under his protection. He assured us of his

setting out the next morning; so we immediately took our leaves in order

to prepare ourselves for accompanying him.

I was willing, before our departure, to measure the circuit of the city;

so, taking one of the friars with me, I went out in the afternoon in

order to pace the walls round. We went out at Bethlehem Gate; and,

proceeding on the right hand, came about to the same gate again. I found

the whole city 4630 paces in circumference, which I computed thus:—

Paces.

From Bethlehem Gate to the corner on the right hand 400

From that corner to Damascus Grate 680

From Damascus Gate to Herod's 380

From Herod's Gate to Jeremiah's prison 150

From Jeremiah's prison to the corner next the valley

of Jehoshaphat 225

From that corner to St. Stephen's Gate 385

From St. Stephen's Gate to the Golden Gate 240

From the Golden Gate to the corner of the wall 380

From that corner to the Dung Gate 470

From the Dung Gate to Sion Gate 605

From Sion Gate to the corner of the wall 215

From that corner to Bethlehem Gate 500

----

In all, paces 4630

The reduction of my paces to yards is by casting away a tenth part, ten

of my paces making nine yards; by which reckoning the 4630 paces amount

to 4167 yards, which make just two miles and a half.

_April 15._—This morning our diplomata were presented us by the father

guardian, to certify our having visited all the holy places; and we

presented the convent fifty dollars a man as a gratuity for their

trouble; which offices having passed betwixt us, we took our leaves.

We set out together with the mosolem, and, proceeding in the same road

by which we came, lodged the first night at Khan Leban; but the mosolem

left us here, and continued his stage as far as Naplosa; so we saw him

no more. The country people were now every where at plough in the

fields, in order to sow cotton. It was observable that, in ploughing,

they used goads of an extraordinary size. Upon measuring of several, I

found them about eight feet long, and at the bigger end six inches in

circumference. They were armed at the lesser end with a sharp prickle

for driving the oxen, and at the other end with a small spade or paddle

of iron, strong and massy, for cleansing the plough from the clay that

encumbers it in working. May we not from hence conjecture that it was

with such a goad as one of these that Shamgar made that prodigious

slaughter related of him[608]? I am confident that whoever should see

one of these instruments would judge it to be a weapon not less fit,

perhaps fitter, than a sword for such an execution. Goads of this sort I

saw always used hereabouts, and also in Syria; and the reason is,

because the same single person both drives the oxen, and also holds and

manages the plough, which makes it necessary to use such a goad as is

above described to avoid the encumbrance of two instruments.

_April 16._—Leaving Khan Leban, we proceeded still in our former road,

and, passing by Naplosa and Samaria, we came to the fountain Selee, and

there took up our lodging this night.

_April 17._—The next morning we continued on in the same road that we

travelled when outward bound, till we came to Caphar Arab. At this place

we left our former way, and, instead of turning off on the left hand to

go to Acra, we kept our course strait forwards, resolving to cross

directly athwart the plain of Esdraelon, and to visit Nazareth.

Proceeding in this course from Caphar Arab, we came in about half an

hour to Jeneen. This is a large old town, on the skirts of Esdraelon. It

has in it an old castle and two mosques, and is the chief residence of

the emir Chibly. Here we were accosted with a command from the emir not

to advance any farther, till he should come in person to receive of us

his caphars. This was very unwelcome news to us, who had met with a

trial of his civility before. But, however, we had no remedy, and

therefore thought it best to comply as contentedly as we could. Having

been kept thus in suspense from two in the morning till sun-set, we then

received an order from the prince to pay the caphar to an officer, whom

he sent to receive it and dismiss us.

Having received this licence, we made all the haste we could to despatch

the caphar, and to get clear of these Arabs. But, notwithstanding all

our diligence, it was near midnight before we could finish. After which

we departed, and, entering immediately into the plain of Esdraelon,

travelled over it all night, and in seven hours reached its other side.

Here we had a very steep and rocky ascent; but, however, in half an hour

we mastered it, and arrived at Nazareth.

_Sunday, April 18._—Nazareth is at present only an inconsiderable

village, situated in a kind of round concave valley, on the top of a

high hill. We were entertained at the convent built over the place of

the Annunciation. At this place are, as it were, immured, seven or eight

Latin fathers, who live a life truly mortified, being perpetually in

fear of the Arabs, who are absolute lords of the country.

We went in the afternoon to visit the sanctuary of this place. The

church of Nazareth stands in a cave supposed to be the place where the

blessed Virgin received that joyful message of the angel, "Hail thou

that art highly favoured,"[609] &c. It resembles the figure of a cross.

That part of it that stands for the tree of the cross is fourteen paces

long and six over, and runs directly into the grotto, having no other

arch over it at top but that of the natural rock. The traverse part of

the cross is nine paces long and four broad, and is built athwart the

mouth of the grotto. Just at the section of the cross are erected two

granite pillars, each two feet and one inch diameter, and about three

feet distant from each other. They are supposed to stand on the very

places, one where the angel, the other where the blessed Virgin stood,

at the time of the Annunciation. Of these pillars, the innermost, being

that of the blessed Virgin, has been broke away by the Turks, in

expectation of finding treasure under it, so that eighteen inches length

of it is clean gone, between the pillar and its pedestal. Nevertheless

it remains erect, though by what art it is sustained I could not

discern. It touches the roof above, and is probably hung upon that;

unless you had rather take the friars' account of it, viz. that it is

supported by a miracle.

After this we went to see the house of Joseph, being the same, as they

tell you, in which the Son of God lived for near thirty years, in

subjection to man[610]. Not far distant from hence they show you the

synagogue where our blessed Lord preached that sermon[611] by which he

so exasperated his countrymen. Both these places lie north-west from the

convent, and were anciently dignified each with a handsome church, but

these monuments of queen Helena's piety are now in ruins.

_April 19._—This day we destined for visiting Mount Tabor, standing by

itself in the plain of Esdraelon, about two or three furlongs within the

plain.

Its being situated in such a separate manner, has induced most authors

to conclude that this must needs be that holy mountain, as St.

Peter styles it[612], which was the place of our blessed Lord's

Transfiguration[613]. You read that Christ "took with him Peter, James,

and John, into a mountain apart," from which description they infer that

the mountain there spoken of can be no other than Tabor. The conclusions

may possibly be true, but the argument used to prove it seems

incompetent; because the term κατ' ἰδ.αν, or apart, most likely relates

to the withdrawing and retirement of the persons there spoken of, and

not the situation of the mountain.

After a very laborious ascent, which took up near an hour, we reached

the highest part of the mountain. It has a plain area at top, most

fertile and delicious, of an oval figure, extending about one furlong in

breadth, and two in length. This area is inclosed with trees on all

parts, except toward the south. It was anciently environed with walls

and trenches, and other fortifications, of which it exhibits many

remains at this day.

In this area there are in several places cisterns of good water; but

those which are most devoutly visited are three contiguous grottos, made

to represent the three tabernacles which St. Peter proposed to erect, in

the astonishment that possessed him at the glory of the Transfiguration.

"Lord," says he, "it is good for us to be here; let us make three

tabernacles, one for thee," &c.

I cannot forbear to mention, in this place, an observation which is very

obvious to all that visit the Holy Land, viz. that almost all passages

and histories related in the Gospel are represented by them that

undertake to show where every thing was done, as having been done most

of them in grottos, and that even in such cases where the condition and

the circumstances of the actions themselves seem to require places of

another nature. Thus, if you would see the place where St. Anne was

delivered of the blessed Virgin, you are carried to a grotto; if the

place of the Annunciation, it is also a grotto; if the place where the

blessed Virgin saluted Elizabeth; if that of the Baptist's, or that of

our blessed Saviour's Nativity; if that of the Agony, or that of St.

Peter's repentance, or that where the Apostles made the Creed, or this

of the Transfiguration, all these places are also grottos; and, in a

word, wherever you go, you find almost every thing is represented as

done under ground. Certainly grottos were anciently held in great

esteem, or else they could never have been assigned, in spite of all

probability, for the places in which were done so many various actions.

Perhaps it was the hermits' way of living in grottos from the fifth or

sixth century downward, that has brought them ever since to be in so

great reputation.

From the top of Tabor you have a prospect which, if nothing else, well

rewards the labour of ascending it. It is impossible for man's eyes to

behold a higher gratification of this nature. On the north-west, you

discern at a distance the Mediterranean; and all around you have the

spacious and beautiful plains of Esdraelon and Galilee, which present

you with the view of so many places memorable for the resort and

miracles of the Son of God. At the bottom of Tabor westward stands

Daberah, a small village, supposed by some to take its name from

Deborah, that famous judge and deliverer of Israel. Near this valley is

the fountain of Kishon. Not many leagues distant eastward, you see Mount

Hermon, at the foot of which is seated Nain, famous for our Lord's

raising the widow's son there[614]; and Endor, the place where dwelt the

witch consulted by Saul. Turning a little southward, you have in view

the high mountains of Gilboa, fatal to Saul and his sons. Due east, you

discover the Sea of Tiberias, distant about one day's journey, and close

by that sea they show a steep mountain, down which the swine ran, and

perished in the waters[615]. A few points towards the north appears

that which they call the Mount of the Beatitudes; a small rising, from

which our blessed Saviour delivered his sermon in the fifth, sixth, and

seventh chapters of St. Matthew. Not far from this little hill is the

city of Saphet, supposed to be the ancient Bethulia. It stands upon a

very eminent and conspicuous mountain, and is seen far and near. May we

not suppose that Christ alludes to this city in those words of his

sermon, 'A city set on a hill cannot be hid[616]?' A conjecture which

seems the more probable, because our Lord, in several places, affects to

illustrate his discourse by comparisons taken from objects that were

then present before the eyes of his auditors; as when he bids them

"Behold the fowls of the air,"[617] "and the lilies of the field."[618]

From Mount Tabor you have likewise the sight of a place which they will

tell you was Dotham, where Joseph was sold by his brethren; and of the

field where our blessed Saviour fed the multitude with a few loaves and

fewer fishes. But whether it was the place where he divided the five

loaves and two fishes amongst the five thousand[619], or the seven

loaves amongst the four thousand[620], I left them to agree among

themselves.

Having received great satisfaction in the sight of this mountain, we

returned to the convent the same way that we came. After dinner we made

another small excursion, in order to see that which they call the

Mountain of the Precipitation; that is, the brow of the hill from which

the Nazarites would have thrown down our blessed Saviour, being incensed

at his sermon preached to them[621]. This precipice is at least half a

league distant from Nazareth southward. In going to it, you cross first

over the valley in which Nazareth stands, and then, going down two or

three furlongs in a narrow cleft between the rocks, you there clamber up

a short but difficult way on the right hand, at the top of which you

find a great stone standing on the brink of a precipice, which is said

to be the very place where our Lord was destined to be thrown down by

his enraged neighbours, had he not made a miraculous escape out of their

hands[622]. There are in the stone several little holes, resembling the

prints of fingers thrust into it. These, if the friars say truth, are

the impresses of Christ's fingers, made in the hard stone, while he

resisted the violence that was offered to him. At this place are seen

two or three cisterns for saving water, and a few ruins, which are all

that now remains of a religious building founded here by the empress

Helena.

_April 20._—The next morning we took our leave of Nazareth, presenting

the guardian five a-piece for his trouble and charge in entertaining us.

We directed our course for Acra, in order to which, going at first

northward, we crossed the hills that encompassed the vale of Nazareth on

that side; after which we turned to the westward, and passed in view of

Cana of Galilee, the place signalized with the beginning of Christ's

miracles[623]. In an hour and a half more we came to Sepharia, a place

reverenced for being the reputed habitation of Joachim and Anna, the

parents of the blessed Virgin. It had once the name of Diocesaria, and

was a place of good repute; but at present it is reduced to a poor

village, showing only here and there a few ruins to testify its ancient

better condition. On the west side of the town stands good part of a

large church, built on the same place where they say stood the house of

Joachim and Anna; it is fifty paces long, and in breadth proportionable.

At Sephira begins the delicious plain of Zebulon. We were an hour and a

half in crossing it, and in an hour and a half more passed by a desolate

village on the right hand, by name Satyra. In half an hour more we

entered the plains of Acra, and in one hour and a half more arrived at

that place. Our stage, this day, was somewhat less than seven hours. It

lay about west and by north, and through a country very delightful, and

fertile beyond imagination.

_April 21._—At Acra we were very courteously treated by the French

consul and merchants, as we had been when outward-bound. Having staid

only one night, we took our leave, and, returning by the same way of the

coast that I have described before, came the first night to our old

lodgings at Solomon's cisterns, and the second to Sidon.

_April 22._—Three hours distant from Sidon, we were carried by the

French consul to see a place which we had passed by unregarded in our

journey outward, though it very well deserves a traveller's observation.

At about the distance of a mile from the sea, there runs along a high

rocky mountain, in the side of which are hewn a multitude of grottos,

all very little differing from each other. They have entrances of about

two feet square. On the inside you find in most, or all of them, a room

of about four yards square, on the one side of which is the door, on the

other there are as many little cells, elevated about two feet above the

floor. There are of these subterraneous caverns, as I was informed by

those who had counted them, two hundred in number. They go by the name

of the grottos of.... The great doubt concerning them is, whether they

were made for the dead or the living. That which makes me doubt of this

is, because, though all the ancient sepulchres in this country very much

resemble these grottos, yet they have something peculiar in them, which

entices one to believe they might be designed for the reception of the

living; for several of the cells within were of a figure not fit for

having corpses deposited in them, being some a yard square, some more,

and some less, and seeming to be made for family uses. Over the door of

every cell there was a channel cut to convey the water away, that it

might not annoy the rooms within. And because the cells were cut above

each other, some higher, some lower, in the side of the rock, there were

convenient stairs cut for the easier communication betwixt the upper and

lower regions. At the bottom of the rock were also several old cisterns

for storing up water. From all which arguments it may, with probability

at least, be concluded, that these places were contrived for the use of

the living, and not of the dead. But what sort of people they were that

inhabited this subterraneous city, or how long ago they lived, I am not

able to resolve. True it is, Strabo describes the habitations of the

Troglodyte to have been somewhat of this kind.

_April 23._—We continued this day at Sidon, being treated by our

friends of the French nation with great generosity.

_April 24._—This morning we took our leave of the worthy French consul,

and the rest of our other friends of that nation, in order to go for

Damascus.

Damascus lies near due east from Sidon. It is usually esteemed three

days' journey distant, the road lying over the mountain Libanus and

Anti-Libanus.

Having gone about half an hour through the olive yards of Sidon, we came

to the foot of Mount Libanus. In two hours and a half more we came to a

small village called Caphar Milki. Thus far our ascent was easy; but now

it began to grow more steep and difficult; in which having laboured one

hour and one-third more, we then came to a fresh fountain called Ambus

Lee, where we encamped for this night. Our whole stage was four hours

and one-third; our course east.

_April 25._—The next day we continued ascending for three good hours,

and then arrived at the highest ridge of the mountain, where the snow

lay close to the road. We began immediately to descend again on the

other side, and in two hours came to a small village called Meshgarah,

where there gushes out at once from the side of the mountain a plentiful

stream, which falling down into a valley below makes a fine brook, and,

after a current of about two leagues, loses itself in a river called

Letane.

At Meshgarah there is a caphar[624] demanded by the Druses, who are the

possessors of these mountains. We were for a little while perplexed by

the excessive demand made upon us by the caphar-men, but finding us

obstinate they desisted.

Having gone one hour beyond Meshgarah, we got clear of the mountain, and

entered into a valley called Bocat. This Bocat seems to be the same with

Bicath Aven, mentioned in Amos i. 5, together with Eden and Damascus,

for there is very near it, in Mount Libanus, a place called Eden to this

day. It might also have the name of Aven, that is, Vanity, given to it,

from the idolatrous worship of Baal, practised at Balbec, or Heliopolis,

which is situate in this valley. The valley is about two hours over, and

in length extends several days' journey, lying near north-east and

south-west. It is inclosed on both sides with two parallel mountains,

exactly resembling each other, the one that which we lately passed over

between this and Sidon, the other opposite against it, towards Damascus.

The former I take to be the true Libanus, the latter Anti-Libanus, which

two mountains are nowhere so well distinguished as at this valley.

In the bottom of the valley there runs a large river called Letane. It

rises about two days' journey northward, not far from Balbec, and,

keeping its course all down the valley, falls at last into the river

Casimir, or, as it is erroneously called, Eleutherus.

Thus far our course had been due east, but here we inclined some points

towards the north. Crossing obliquely over the valley, we came in half

an hour to a bridge over the river Letane. It consists of five stone

arches, and is called Kor Aren, from a village at a little distance of

the same name. At this bridge we crossed the river, and, having

travelled about an hour and a half on its bank, pitched our tents there

for this night. Our whole stage was eight hours.

_April 26._—The next morning we continued our oblique course over the

valley Bocat. In an hour we passed close by a small village called Jib

Jeneen, and in three quarters of an hour more came to the foot of the

mountain Anti-Libanus. Here we had an easy ascent, and in half an hour

passed, on our right hand, by a village called Uzzi. In three quarters

of an hour more we arrived at Ayta, a village of Christians of the Greek

communion. At this last place the road began to grow very rocky and

troublesome, in which having travelled an hour we arrived at a small

rivulet called Ayn Tentloe. Here we entered into a narrow cleft between

two rocky mountains, passing through which we arrived in four hours at

Demass, gently descending all the way. At Demass a small caphar[625] is

demanded, which being despatched, we put forward again, but had not gone

above an hour and a half when it grew dark, and we were forced to stop

at a very inhospitable place, but the best we could find, affording no

grass for our horses, nor any water, but just enough to breed frogs, by

which we were serenaded all night.

_April 27._—Early the next morning we deserted this uncomfortable

lodging, and in about an hour arrived at the river Barrady, our road

still descending. This is the river that waters Damascus, and enriches

it with all its plenty and pleasure. It is not so much as twenty yards

over, but comes pouring down from the mountains with great rapidity, and

with so vast a body of water, that it abundantly supplies all the

thirsty gardens, and the city of Damascus.

We crossed Barrady at a new bridge over it called Dummar. On the other

side our road ascended, and in half an hour brought us to the brink of

a high precipice, at the bottom of which the river runs, the mountain

being here cleft asunder to give it admission into the plain below.

At the highest part of the precipice is erected a small structure, like

a sheikh's sepulchre, concerning which the Turks relate this

story:—That their prophet, coming near Damascus, took his station at

that place for some time, in order to view the city, and, considering

the ravishing beauty and delightfulness of it, he would not tempt his

frailty by entering into it, but instantly departed, with this

reflection upon it, that there was but one Paradise designed for man,

and, for his part, he was resolved not to take his in this world.

You have, indeed, from the precipice, the most perfect prospect of

Damascus. And certainly no place in the world can promise the beholder,

at a distance, greater voluptuousness. It is situate in an even plain of

so great extent, that you can but just discern the mountains that

compass it on the farther side. It stands on the west side of the plain,

at not above two miles' distance from the place where the river Barrady

breaks out from between the mountains, its gardens extending almost to

the very place.

The city itself is of a long straight figure, its ends pointing near

north-east and south-west. It is very slender in the middle, but swells

bigger at each end, especially at that to the north-east. In its length,

as far as I could guess by my eye, it may extend near two miles. It is

thick-set with mosques and steeples, the usual ornaments of the Turkish

cities, and is encompassed with gardens extending no less, according to

common estimation, than thirty miles round, which makes it look like a

noble city in a vast wood. The gardens are thick-set with fruit-trees of

all kinds, kept fresh and verdant by the waters of Barrady. You discover

in them many turrets, and steeples, and summer-houses frequently peeping

out from among the green boughs, which may be conceived to add no small

advantage and beauty to the prospect. On the north side of this vast

wood is a place called Solhees, where are the most beautiful

summer-houses and gardens.

The greatest part of this pleasantness and fertility proceeds, as I

said, from the waters of Barrady, which supply both the gardens and city

in great abundance. This river, as soon as it issues out from between

the cleft of the mountain before mentioned into the plain, is

immediately divided into three streams, of which the middlemost and

biggest runs directly to Damascus through a large open field called the

Ager Damascenus, and is distributed to all the cisterns and fountains of

the city. The other two, which I take to be the work of art, are drawn

round, one to the right hand, and the other to the left, on the borders

of the gardens, into which they are let as they pass by little currents,

and so dispersed all over the vast wood, insomuch that there is not a

garden but has a fine quick stream running through it, which serves not

only for watering the place, but is also improved into fountains and

other waterworks very delightful, though not contrived with that variety

of exquisite art which is used in Christendom.

Barrady, being thus described, is almost wholly drunk up by the city and

gardens. What small part of it escapes is united, as I was informed, in

one channel again, on the south-east side of the city; and, after about

three or four hours' course, finally loses itself in a bog there without

ever arriving at the sea.

The Greeks, and, from them, the Romans, call this river Chrysorrhoas;

but as for Abana and Pharpar, rivers of Damascus, mentioned in 2 Kings,

v. 12, I could find no memory so much as of the names remaining. They

must doubtless have been only two branches of the river Barrady; and one

of them was probably the same stream that now runs through the Ager

Damascenus, directly to the city, which seems, by its serpentine way, to

be a natural channel. The other I know not well where to find; but it is

no wonder, seeing they may and do turn and alter the courses of this

river according to their own convenience and pleasure.

We continued a good while upon the precipice to take a view of the city;

and indeed it is a hard matter to leave a station which presents you so

charming a landscape. It exhibits the paradise below as a most fair and

delectable place, and yet will hardly suffer you to stir away to go to

it; thus at once inviting you to the city by the pleasure which it seems

to promise, and detaining you from it by the beauty of the prospect.

Coming down the hill into the plain, we were there met by a janissary

from the convent, sent to conduct us into the city. He did not think fit

to carry us in at the west gate (which was nearest at hand), and so all

across the city to the Latin convent where we were to lodge, for fear

the Damascenes, who are a very bigoted and insolent race, should be

offended at so great a number of Franks as we were; to avoid which

danger he led us round about the gardens before we arrived at the gate.

The garden walls are of a very singular structure. They are built of

great pieces of earth, made in the fashion of brick and hardened in the

sun. In their dimensions they are each two yards long, and somewhat more

than one broad, and half a yard thick. Two rows of these, placed

edgewise one upon another, make a cheap, expeditious, and, in this dry

country, a durable wall.

In passing between the gardens we also observed their method of scouring

the channels. They put a great bough of a tree in the water, and fasten

to it a yoke of oxen. Upon the bough there sits a good weighty fellow,

to press it down to the bottom and to drive the oxen. In this equipage

the bough is dragged all along the channel, and serves at once both to

cleanse the bottom, and also to mud and fatten the water for the greater

benefit of the gardens.

Entering at the east gate, we went immediately to the convent, and were

very courteously received by the guardian, father Raphael, a Majorkine

by birth, and a person who, though he has dedicated himself to the

contemplative life, yet is not unfit for any affairs of the active.

_April 28._—This morning we walked out to take a view of the city. The

first place we went to visit was the house of an eminent Turk. The

streets here are narrow, as is usual in hot countries, and the houses

are all built, on the outside, of no better a material than either

sun-burnt brick or Flemish wall, daubed over in as coarse a manner as

can be seen in the vilest cottages. From this dirty way of building they

have this amongst other inconveniences, that upon any violent rain the

whole city becomes, by the washing of the houses, as it were a quagmire.

It may be wondered what should induce the people to build in this base

manner when they have, in the adjacent mountains, such plenty of good

stone for noble fabrics. I can give no reason for it, unless this may

pass for such, that those who first planted here, finding so delicious a

situation, were in haste to come to the enjoyment of it; and therefore

nimbly set up those extemporary habitations, being unwilling to defer

their pleasures so long as whilst they might erect more magnificent

structures, which primitive example their successors have followed ever

since.

But, however, in these mud walls you find the gates and doors adorned

with marble portals, carved and inlaid with great beauty and variety. It

is an object not a little surprising to see mud and marble, state and

sordidness, so mingled together.

In the inside the houses discover a very different face from what you

see without. Here you find generally a large square court, beautified

with a variety of fragrant trees and marble fountains, and compassed

round with splendid apartments and divans. The divans are floored and

adorned on the sides with variety of marble, mixed in mosaic knots and

mazes. The ceilings and traves are, after the Turkish manner, richly

painted and gilded. They have generally artificial fountains springing

up before them in marble basins; and, as for carpets and cushions, are

furnished out to the height of luxury. Of these divans they have

generally several on all sides of the court, being placed at such

different points that, at one or other of them, you may always have

either the shade or the sun, which you please.

Such as I have described was the house we went to see; and I was told

the rest resemble the same description.

In the next place we went to see the church of St. John the Baptist, now

converted into a mosque, and held too sacred for Christians to enter, or

almost to look into. However we had three short views of it, looking in

at three several gates. Its gates are vastly large, and covered with

brass, stamped all over with Arab characters, and in several places with

the figure of a chalice, supposed to be the ancient ensigns or arms of

the Mamelukes. On the north side of the church is a spacious court,

which I could not conjecture to be less than one hundred and fifty yards

long and eighty or one hundred broad. The court is paved all over, and

inclosed on the south side by the church, on the other three sides by a

double cloister, supported by two rows of granite pillars of the

Corinthian order, exceedingly lofty and beautiful.

On the south side the church joins to the bazaars; and there we had an

opportunity just to peep into it. It is, within, spacious and lofty,

built with three aisles, between which are rows of polished pillars of

surpassing beauty, unless, perhaps, we were tempted to overvalue what

was so sparingly permitted to our survey.

In this church are kept the head of St. John, and some other relics

esteemed so holy that it is death even for a Turk to presume to go into

the room where they are kept. We are told here, by a Turk of good

fashion, that Christ was to descend into this mosque at the day of

judgment, as Mohammed was to do into that of Jerusalem; but the ground

and reason of this tradition I could not learn.

From the church we went to the castle, which stands about two furlongs

distant towards the west. It is a good building of the rustic manner. In

length it is three hundred and forty paces, and in breadth somewhat

less. We were admitted but just within the gate, where we saw store of

ancient arms and armour, the spoils of the Christians in former times.

Amongst the artillery was an old Roman balista; but this was a place not

long to be gazed upon by such as we were. At the east end of the castle

there hangs down, in the middle of the wall, a short chain cut in stone,

of what use I know not, unless to boast the skill of the artificer.

Leaving this place, we went to view the bazaars, which we found crowded

with people, but destitute of any thing else worth observing.

_April 29._—Very early this morning we went to see the yearly great

pomp of the hadgees setting out on their pilgrimage to Mecca[626],

Ustan, pasha of Tripoli, being appointed their emir or conductor for

this year. For our better security from the insolences of the

over-zealous votaries, we hired a shop in one of the bazaars through

which they were to pass.

In this famous cavalcade there came, first, forty-six dellees, that is

religious madmen, carrying each a silk streamer, mixed either of red and

green, or of yellow and green; after these came three troops of segmen,

an order of soldiers amongst the Turks; and next to them some troops of

saphees, another order of soldiery. These were followed by eight

companies of Mugrubines (so the Turks call the Barbaroses) on foot.

These were fellows of a very formidable aspect, and were designed to be

left in a garrison, maintained by the Turks somewhere in the desert of

Arabia, and relieved every year with fresh men. In the midst of the

Mugrubines there passed six small pieces of ordnance. In the next place

came, on foot, the soldiers of the castle of Damascus, fantastically

armed with coats of mail, gauntlets, and other pieces of old armour.

These were followed by two troops of janissaries and their aga, all

mounted. Next were brought the pasha's two horse tails, ushered by the

aga of the court; and next after the tails followed six led horses, all

of excellent shape and nobly furnished. Over the saddle there was a

girth upon each led horse, and a large silver target gilded with gold.

After these horses came the mahmal. This is a large pavilion of black

silk, pitched upon the back of a very great camel, and spreading its

curtains all round about the beast down to the ground. The pavilion is

adorned at top with a gold ball, and with gold fringes round about. The

camel that carries it wants not also his ornaments of large ropes of

beads, fish-shells, fox-tails, and other such fantastical finery, hanged

upon his head, neck, and legs. All this is designed for the state of the

Alcoran, which is placed with great reverence under the pavilion, where

it rides in state both to and from Mecca. The Alcoran is accompanied

with a rich new carpet, which the Grand Signor sends every year for the

covering of Mohammed's tomb, having the old one brought back in return

for it, which is esteemed of an inestimable value after having been so

long next neighbour to the prophet's rotten bones. The beast which

carries this sacred load has the privilege to be exempted from all other

burdens ever after. After the mahmal came another troop, and with them

the pasha himself; and, last of all, twenty loaded camels, with which

the train ended, having been three quarters of an hour in passing.

Having observed what we could of this show, which perhaps was never seen

by Franks before, we went to view some other curiosities. The first

place we came to was the Ager Damascenus, a long, beautiful meadow, just

without the city on the west side. It is divided in the middle by that

branch of the river Barrady which supplies the city, and is taken notice

of because of a tradition current here that Adam was made of the earth

of this field.

Adjoining the Ager Damascenus is a large hospital. It has within it a

pleasant square court, inclosed on the south side by a stately mosque,

and on its other sides by cloisters and lodgings of no contemptible

structure.

Returning from hence homeward, we were shown, by the way, a very

beautiful bagnio; and not far from it a coffee house capable of

entertaining four or five hundred people, shaded over head with trees,

and with mats when the boughs fail. It had two quarters for the

reception of guests, one proper for the summer, the other for the

winter. That designed for the summer was a small island, washed all

round with a large, swift stream, and shaded over head with mats and

trees. We found here a multitude of Turks upon the divans, regaling

themselves in this pleasant place, there being nothing which they behold

with so much delight as greens and water, to which, if a beautiful face

be added, they have a proverb that all three together make a perfect

antidote against melancholy.

In the afternoon we went to visit the house which, they say, was some

time the house of Ananias, the restorer of sight to St. Paul[627]. The

place shown for it is, according to the old rule, a small grotto or

cellar, affording nothing remarkable but only that there are in it a

Christian altar and a Turkish praying place, seated nearer to each other

than well agrees with the nature of such places.

Our next walk was out of the east gate, in order to see the place (they

say) of St. Paul's vision, and what else is observable on that side. The

place of the vision is about half a mile distant from the city eastward.

It is close by the wayside, and has no building to distinguish it, nor

do I believe it ever had; only there is a small rock or heap of gravel

which serves to point out the place.

About two furlongs nearer the city is a small timber structure,

resembling the cage of a country borough. Within it is an altar erected.

There, you are told, the holy apostle rested for some time in his way to

this city after his vision[628].

Being returned to the city, we were shown the gate at which St. Paul was

let down in a basket[629]. This gate is at present walled up by reason

of its vicinity to the east gate, which renders it of little use.

Entering again into the city, we went to see the great patriarch

residing in this city. He was a person of about forty years of age. The

place of his residence was mean, and his person and converse promised

not any thing extraordinary. He told me there were more than one

thousand two hundred souls of the Greek communion in that city.

_April 30._—The next day we went to visit the gardens, and to spend a

day there. The place where we disposed of ourselves was about a mile out

of town. It afforded us a very pleasant summer-house, having a plentiful

stream of water running through it. The garden was thick-set with fruit

trees, but without any art or order. Such as this are all the gardens

hereabouts; only with this odds, that some of them have their

summer-houses more splendid than others, and their waters improved into

greater variety of fountains. In visiting these gardens, Franks are

obliged either to walk on foot, or else to ride upon asses, the

insolence of the Turks not allowing them to mount on horseback. To serve

them upon these occasions here are hackney asses always standing ready

equipped for hire. When you are mounted, the master of the ass follows

his beast to the place where you are disposed to go, goading him up

behind with a sharp-pointed stick, which makes him despatch his stage

with great expedition. It is apt sometimes to give a little disgust to

the generous traveller to be forced to submit to such marks of scorn;

but there is no remedy; and, if the traveller will take my advice, his

best way will be to mount his ass contentedly and to turn the affront

into a motive of recreation, as we did. Having spent the day in the

garden, we returned in the evening to the convent.

_May 1._—The next day we spent at another garden, not far distant from

the former, but far exceeding it in the beauty of its summer-house and

the variety of its fountains.

_Sunday, May 2._—We went, as many of us as were disposed, to Sydonaiia,

a Greek convent about four hours distant from Damascus to the northward,

or north by east. The road, excepting only two steep ascents, is very

good. In this stage we passed by two villages, the first called Tall,

the second Meneen. At a good distance on the right hand is a very high

hill, reported to be the same on which Cain and Abel offered their

sacrifices, and where also the former slew his brother, setting the

first example of bloodshed to the world.

Sydonaiia is situated at the farther side of a large vale, on the top of

a rock. The rock is cut with steps all up, without which it would be

inaccessible. It is fenced all round at the top, with a strong wall,

which incloses the convent. It is a place of very mean structure, and

contains nothing in it extraordinary, but only the wine made here, which

is indeed most excellent. This place was at first founded and endowed by

the emperor Justinian. It is at present possessed by twenty Greek monks

and forty nuns, who seem to live promiscuously together, without any

order or separation.

Here are upon this rock, and within a little compass round about it, no

less than sixteen churches and oratories, dedicated to several names.

The first, to St. John; second, to St. Paul; third, to St. Thomas;

fourth, to St. Babylas; fifth, to St. Barbara; sixth, to St.

Christopher; seventh, to St. Joseph; eighth, to St. Lazarus; ninth, to

the blessed Virgin; tenth, to St. Demetrius; eleventh, to St. Saba;

twelfth, to St. Peter; thirteenth, to St. George; fourteenth, to All

Saints; fifteenth, to the Ascension; sixteenth, to the Transfiguration

of our Lord; from all which, we may well conclude this place was held

anciently in no small repute for sanctity. Many of these churches I

actually visited, but found them so ruined and desolate, that I had not

courage to go to all.

In the chapel made use of by the convent for their daily services, they

pretend to show a great miracle, done here some years since, of which

take this account, as I received it from them. They had once in the

church a little picture of the blessed Virgin, very much resorted to by

supplicants, and famous for the many cures and blessings granted in

return to their prayers. It happened that a certain sacrilegious rogue

took an opportunity to steal away this miraculous picture; but he had

not kept it long in his custody, when he found it metamorphosed into a

real body of flesh. Being struck with wonder and remorse at so

prodigious an event, he carried back the prize to its true owners,

confessing and imploring forgiveness for his crime. The monks having

recovered so great a jewel, and being willing to prevent such another

disaster for the future, thought fit to deposit it in a small chest of

stone, and placing it in a little cavity in the wall behind the high

altar, fixed an iron gate before it, in order to secure it from any

fraudulent attempts for the future. Upon the gates there are hanged

abundance of little toys and trinkets, being the offerings of many

votaries in return for the success given to their prayers at this

shrine. Under the same chest in which the incarnate picture was

deposited they always place a small silver basin, in order to receive

the distillation of a holy oil, which they pretend issues out from the

inclosed image, and does wonderful cures in many distempers, especially

those affecting the eyes.

On the east side of the rock is an ancient sepulchre hollowed in the

firm stone. The room is about eight yards square, and contains in its

sides (as I remember) twelve chests for corpses. Over the entrance there

are carved six statues as big as the life, standing in three niches, two

in each niche. At the pedestals of the statues may be observed a few

Greek words, which, as far as I was able to discern them in their

present obscurity, are as follows:—

ΕΤΟΥϹΙΦ-- |Ι[ΟΥ]Λ.ΦΙ[ΛΙ |ΙΟΥΛ . ΔΗΜΗ

ΙΟΥΛ . ΑΡΤΕ |Π] ΠΙΚΟΣ |ΤΡΙΟΣ ΚΑ[Ι]Α[ΡΙ]

ΩΙΔΙΡΟΣ ΚΑΙ |[Κ]ΑΙ ΔΟΜΝϹΙΝΑ |ΑΔΝΗ ΓΥ[ΝΗ]

ΠΡΕΙΓΚΥ ΓΥΝΗ |ΓΥΝΗ |ΠΑΝΤΑΣ ΕΠΟΙΟΥ [Ν]

_Under the first niche._|_Under the second._|_Under the third._

A gentleman in our company, and myself, have reason to remember this

place, for an escape we had in it. A drunken janissary, passing under

the window where we were, chanced to have a drop of wine thrown out upon

his vest, upon which innocent provocation he presented his pistol at us

in at the window; had it gone off, it must have been fatal to one or

both of us, who sat next the place. But it pleased God to restrain his

fury. This evening we returned again to Damascus.

_May 3._—This morning we went to see the street called Straight[630].

It is about half a mile in length, running from east to west through the

city. It being narrow, and the houses jutting out in several places on

both sides, you cannot have a clear prospect of its length and

straightness. In this street is shown the house of Judas, with whom St.

Paul lodged; and in the same house is an old tomb, said to be Ananias's,

but how he should come to be buried here they could not tell us, nor

could we guess; his own house being shown us in another place. However,

the Turks have a reverence for his tomb, and maintain a lamp always

burning over it.

In the afternoon, having presented the convent with ten per man for our

kind reception, we took our leaves of Damascus, and shaped our course

for Tripoli; designing in the way to see Balbec, and the cedars of

Libanus. In order to this, we returned the same way by which we came,

and, crossing the river Barrady again at the bridge of Dummar, came to a

village of the same name a little farther, and there lodged this night.

We travelled this afternoon three hours.

_May 4._—This morning we left our old road, and took another more

northerly. In an hour and a half we came to a small village called

Sinie; just by which is an ancient structure on the top of a high hill,

supposed to be the tomb of Abel, and to have given the adjacent country

in old times the name of Abilene. The fratricide also is said by some to

have been committed in this place. The tomb is thirty yards long, and

yet it is here believed to have been but just proportioned to the

stature of him who was buried in it. Here we entered into a narrow gut,

between two steep rocky mountains, the river Barrady running at the

bottom. On the other side of the river were several tall pillars, which

excited our curiosity to go and take a nearer view of them. We found

them part of the front of some ancient and very magnificent edifice, but

of what kind we could not conjecture.

We continued upon the banks of Barrady, and came in three hours to a

village called Maday; and in two hours more to a fountain called

Ain-il-Hawra, where we lodged. Our whole stage was somewhat less than

seven hours; our course nearly north-west.

_May 5._—This morning we passed by the fountain of Barrady, and came in

an hour and two-thirds to a village called Surgawich. At this place we

left the narrow valley, in which we had travelled ever since the morning

before, and ascended the mountain on the left hand. Having spent in

crossing it two hours, we arrived a second time in the valley of Bocat;

here, steering northerly, directly up the valley, we arrived in three

hours at Balbec. Our stage this day was near seven hours, and our course

near about west.

At Balbec we pitched at a place less than half a mile distant from the

town, eastward, near a plentiful and delicious fountain, which grows

immediately into a brook; and running down to Balbec, adds no small

pleasure and convenience to the place.

In the afternoon we walked out to see the city. But we thought fit

before we entered to get licence of the governor, and to proceed with

all caution; being taught this necessary care by the example of some

worthy English gentlemen of our factory, who, visiting this place in the

year 1689, in their return from Jerusalem, and suspecting no mischief,

were basely intrigued by the people here, and forced to redeem their

lives at a great sum of money.

Balbec is supposed to be the ancient Heliopolis, or City of the Sun; for

that the word imports. Its present Arab, which is perhaps its most

ancient name, inclines to the same importance. For Baal, though it

imports all idols in general, of whatsoever sex or condition, yet it is

very often appropriated to the sun, the sovereign idol of this country.

The city enjoys a most delightful and commodious situation, on the east

side of the valley of Bocat. It is of a square figure, compassed with a

tolerable good wall, in which are towers all round at equal distances.

It extends, as far as I could guess by the eye, about two furlongs on a

side. Its houses within are all of the meanest structure, such as are

usually seen in Turkish villages.

At the south-west side of this city is a noble ruin, being the only

curiosity for which this place is wont to be visited. It was anciently a

heathen temple, together with some other edifices belonging to it, all

truly magnificent; but in latter times these ancient structures have

been patched and pieced up with several other buildings, converting the

whole into a castle, under which name it goes at this day. The

adjectitious buildings are of no mean architecture, but yet easily

distinguishable from what is more ancient.

Coming near these ruins, the first thing you meet with is a little round

pile of building, all of marble. It is encircled with columns of the

Corinthian order, very beautiful, which support a cornice that runs all

round the structure, of no ordinary state and beauty. The part of it

that remains is at present in a very tottering condition, but yet the

Greeks use it for a church; and it were well if the danger of its

falling, which perpetually threatens, would excite those people to use a

little more fervour in their prayers than they generally do, the Greeks

being, seemingly, the most undevout and negligent at their divine

service of any sort of people in the Christian world.

From this ruin you come to a large firm pile of building, which, though

very lofty and composed of huge square stones, yet, I take to be part of

the adjectitious work; for one sees in the inside some fragments of

images in the walls and stones, with Roman letters upon them, set the

wrong way. In one stone we found graven DIVIS, and in another line,

MOSC. Through this pile, you pass in a stately arched walk or portico,

one hundred and fifty paces long, which leads you to the temple.

The temple is an oblong square, in breadth thirty-two yards, and in

length sixty-four, of which eighteen were taken up by the πρόναος or

ante-temple, which is now tumbled down, the pillars being broke that

sustained it. The body of the temple, which now stands, is encompassed

with a noble portico, supported by pillars of the Corinthian order,

measuring six feet and three inches in diameter, and about forty-five

feet in height, consisting all of three stones apiece. The distance of

the pillars from each other, and from the wall of the temple, is nine

feet. Of these pillars there are fourteen on each side of the temple,

and eight at the end, counting the corner pillars in both numbers.

On the capitals of the pillars there runs all round a stately architrave

and cornice, rarely carved. The portico is covered with large stones

hollowed archwise, extending between the columns and the wall of the

temple. In the centre of each stone is carved the figure of some one or

other of the heathen gods or goddesses, or heroes. I remember amongst

the rest a Ganymede, and the eagle flying away with him, so lively done

that it excellently represented the sense of that verse in Martial,

"Illæsum timidis unguibus hæsit onus."

The gate of the temple is twenty-one feet wide, but how high could not

be measured, it being in part filled up with rubbish. It is moulded and

beautified all round with exquisite sculpture. On the nethermost side of

the portal is carved a Fame hovering over the head, as you enter, and

extending its wings two-thirds of the breadth of the gate; and on each

side of the eagle is described a Fame, likewise upon the wing. The eagle

carries in its pounces a caduceus, and in his beak the strings or

ribbons coming from the ends of two festoons, whose other ends are held

and supported on each side by the two Fames. The whole seemed to be a

piece of admirable sculpture.

The measure of the temple within is forty yards in length, and twenty in

breadth. In its walls all round are two rows of pilasters, one above the

other; and between the pilasters are niches, which seem to have been

designed for the reception of idols. Of these pilasters there are eight

in a row on each side; and of the niches, nine.

About eight yards' distance from the upper end of the temple stands part

of two fine channelled pillars, which seem to have made a partition in

that place, and to have supported a canopy over the throne of the chief

idol, whose station appears to have been in a large niche at this end.

On that part of the partition which remains are to be seen carvings in

rilievo representing Neptune, Tritons, Fishes, Sea-gods, Arion and his

dolphin, and other marine figures. The covering of the whole fabric is

totally broken down; but yet this I must say of the whole as it now

stands, that it strikes the mind with an air of greatness beyond any

thing that I ever saw before, and is an eminent proof of the

magnificence of the ancient architecture.

About fifty yards distant from the temple is a row of Corinthian

pillars, very great and lofty, with a most stately architrave and

cornice at top. This speaks itself to have been part of some very august

pile; but what one now sees of it is but just enough to give a regret

that there should be no more of it remaining.

Here is another curiosity of this place, which a man had need be well

assured of his credit before he ventures to relate, lest he should be

thought to strain the privilege of a traveller too far. That which I

mean is a large piece of the old wall, or περίβολος, which encompassed

all these structures last described. A wall made of such monstrous great

stones, that the natives hereabouts (as it is usual in things of this

strange nature) ascribe it to the architecture of the devil. Three of

the stones, which were larger than the rest, we took the pains to

measure, and found them to extend sixty-one yards in length; one

twenty-one, the other two each twenty yards. In deepness they were four

yards each, and in breadth of the same dimension. These three stones lay

in one and the same row, end to end. The rest of the wall was made also

of great stones, but none, I think, so great as these. That which added

to the wonder was, that these stones were lifted up into the wall more

than twenty feet from the ground.

In the side of a small ascent, on the east part of the town, stood an

old single column, of the Tuscan order, about eighteen or nineteen yards

high, and one yard and a half in diameter. It had a channel cut in its

side from the bottom to the top, from which we judged it might have

been erected for the sake of raising water.

At our return to our tents we were a little perplexed by the servants of

the mosolem, about our caphar. We were contented at last to judge it at

ten per Frank, and five per servant, rather than we would engage in a

long dispute at such a place as this.

Near the place where we lodged was an old mosque, and (as I said before)

a fine fountain. This latter had been anciently beautified with some

handsome stone-work round it, which was now almost ruined; however, it

afforded us this imperfect inscription.

ΤΩΝΧΕΙΜΕΡΕΙΩΝ Π..ΟΝΕΩΚΤΙϹΤΟϹΠΑΝΝ

ΒΛΕΠΕΙΝΔΕΔΩΚΕΝ ΩΡΡΕϹΤΕΚΛΙΝΕΟΝ

ΧΡΥϹΟΝΠΑΡΑϹΧϹ ... ϹΩϹΙΒΙΟϹΤΕΜΕΓΑϹ.

ΥΔΩΡΤΕΝΥΝ-ΡΕΚΤΙΠΗΓΑΙΟΝΠΟΛΥ

ΕΥΧΑΙϹΘΕΟΔΟΤΟΥΤΟΥ ΟϹΙΟΥΕΠΙϹΚΟΠΟΥ.

_May 6._—Early this morning we departed from Balbec, directing our

course straight across the valley. As we passed by the walls of the

city, we observed many stones inscribed with Roman letters and names,

but all confused, and some placed upside down, which demonstrates that

the materials of the wall were the ruins of the ancient city. In one

place we found these letters, RMIPTITVEPR; in others these, VARI---; in

another, NERIS; in others, LVCIL---, and SEVERI, and CELNAE, and FIRMI;

all which serve only to denote the resort which the Romans had to this

place in ancient times.

In one hour we passed by a village called Ye-ad; and in an hour more

went to see an old monumental pillar, a little on the right hand of the

road. It was nineteen yards high, and five feet in diameter, of the

Corinthian order. It had a table for an inscription on its north side,

but the letters are now perfectly erased. In one hour more we reached

the other side of the valley, at the foot of Mount Anti-Libanus.

We immediately ascended the mountain, and in two hours came to a large

cavity between the hills, at the bottom of which was a lake called by

its old Greek name, Limone. It is about three furlongs over, and derives

its waters from the melting of the snow. By this lake our guides would

have had us stay all night, assuring us that if we went up higher in

the mountains we should be forced to lie amongst the snow; but we

ventured that, preferring a cold lodging before an unwholesome one.

Having ascended one hour, we arrived at the snow, and proceeding amongst

it for one hour and a half more, we then chose out as warm a place as we

could in so high a region; and there we lodged this night upon the very

top of Libanus. Our whole stage this day was seven hours and a half.

Libanus is in this part free from rocks, and only rises and falls with

small, easy unevennesses, for several hours' riding; but is perfectly

barren and desolate. The ground, where not concealed by the snow,

appeared to be covered with a sort of white slates, thin and smooth. The

chief benefit it serves for is, that by its exceeding height it proves a

conservatory for abundance of snow, which, thawing in the heat of

summer, affords supplies of water to the rivers and fountains in the

valleys below. We saw in the snow prints of the feet of several wild

beasts, which are the sole proprietors of these upper parts of the

mountains.

_May 7._—The next morning we went four hours almost perpetually upon

deep snow, which, being frozen, bore us and our horses; and then

descending for about one hour, came to a fountain called, from the name

of an adjacent village, Ain-il-Hadede. By this time we were got into a

milder and better region.

Here was the place where we were to strike out of the way, in order to

go to Canobine and the cedars. And some of us went upon this design,

whilst the rest chose rather to go directly for Tripoli, to which we had

not now above four hours. We took with us a guide, who pretended to be

well acquainted with the way to Canobine, but he proved an ignorant

director; and after he had led us about for several hours in intricate

and untrodden mazes amongst the mountains, finding him perfectly at a

loss, we were forced to forsake our intended visit for the present, and

to steer directly for Tripoli, where we arrived late at night, and were

again entertained by our worthy friends, Mr. Consul Hastings and Mr.

Fisher, with their wonted friendship and generosity.

_May 8._—In the afternoon Mr. Consul Hastings carried us to see the

castle of Tripoli. It is pleasantly situated on a hill, commanding the

city, but has neither arms nor ammunition in it, and serves rather for a

prison than a garrison. There was shut up in it at this time a poor

Christian prisoner, called Sheikh Eunice, a Maronite. He was one that

had formerly renounced his faith, and lived for many years in the

Mohammedan religion, but in his declining age he both retracted his

apostacy and died to atone for it, for he was impaled by the order of

the pasha two days after we left Tripoli. This punishment of impaling is

commonly executed amongst the Turks for crimes of the greatest degree,

and is certainly one of the greatest indignities and barbarities that

can be offered to human nature. The execution is done in this manner.

They take a post of about the bigness of a man's leg, and eight or nine

feet long, and make it very sharp at one end. This they lay upon the

back of the criminal, and force him to carry it to the place of

execution, imitating herein the old Roman custom of compelling

malefactors to bear their cross. Being arrived at the fatal place, they

thrust in the stake at the fundament of the person who is the miserable

subject of this doom, and then taking him by the legs, draw on his body

upon it, till the point of the stake appears at his shoulders. After

this they erect the stake, and fasten it in a hole dug in the ground.

The criminal, sitting in this manner upon it, remains not only still

alive, but also drinks, smokes, and talks, as one perfectly sensible,

and thus some have continued for twenty-four hours; but generally, after

the tortured wretch has remained in this deplorable and ignominious

posture an hour or two, some one of the standers by is permitted to give

him a gracious stab to the heart, so putting an end to his inexpressible

misery.

_Sunday, May 9._—Despairing of any other opportunity, I made another

attempt this day to see the cedars and Canobine. Having gone for three

hours across the plain of Tripoli, I arrived at the foot of Libanus, and

from thence, continually ascending, not without great fatigue, came in

four hours and a half to a small village called Eden, and in two hours

and a half more to the cedars. These noble trees grow amongst the snow

near the highest part of Lebanon, and are remarkable as well for their

own age and largeness as for those frequent allusions made to them in

the word of God. Here are some of them very old, and of a prodigious

bulk, and others younger, of a smaller size. Of the former I could

reckon up only sixteen, and the latter are very numerous. I measured one

of the largest, and found it twelve yards six inches in girth, and yet

sound, and thirty-seven yards in the spread of its boughs. At about five

or six yards from the ground it was divided into five limbs, each of

which was equal to a great tree.

After about half an hour spent in surveying this place, the clouds began

to thicken, and to fly along upon the ground, which so obscured the road

that my guide was very much at a loss to find our way back again. We

rambled about for seven hours thus bewildered, which gave me no small

fear of being forced one night more at Libanus; but at last, after a

long exercise of pains and patience, we arrived at the way that goes

down to Canobine, where I arrived by the time it was dark, and found a

kind reception, answerable to the great need I had of it, after so long

fatigue.

Canobine is a convent of the Maronites, and the seat of the patriarch,

who is at present F. Stephanus Edenensis, a person of great learning and

humanity. It is a very mean structure; but its situation is admirably

adapted for retirement and devotion, for there is a very deep rupture in

the side of Libanus, running at least seven hours' travel directly up

into the mountain. It is on both sides exceeding steep and high, clothed

with fragrant greens from top to bottom, and everywhere refreshed with

fountains, falling down from the rocks in pleasant cascades, the

ingenious work of nature. These streams, all uniting at the bottom, make

a full and rapid torrent, whose agreeable murmuring is heard all over

the place, and adds no small pleasure to it. Canobine is seated on the

north side of this chasm, on the steep of the mountain, at about the

midway between the top and the bottom. It stands at the mouth of a great

cave, having a few small rooms fronting outward that enjoy the light of

the sun, the rest are all under ground. It had for its founder the

emperor Theodosius the Great; and though it has been several times

rebuilt, yet the patriarch assured me the church was of the primitive

foundation; but, whoever built it, it is a mean fabric, and no great

credit to its founder. It stands in the grotto, but fronting outwards

receives a little light from that side. In the same side there were also

hung in the wall two small bells to call the monks to their devotions; a

privilege allowed nowhere else in this country, nor would they be

suffered here, but that the Turks are far enough off from the hearing

of them.

The valley of Canobine was anciently, as it well deserves, very much

resorted to for religious retirement. You see here still hermitages,

cells, monasteries, almost without number. There is not any little part

of rock that jets out upon the side of the mountain, but you generally

see some little structure upon it for the reception of monks and

hermits, though few or none of them are now inhabited.

_May 10._—After dinner I took my leave of the patriarch, and returned

to Tripoli. I steered my course down by a narrow oblique path cut in the

side of the rupture, and found it three hours before I got clear of the

mountains, and three more afterwards before I came to Tripoli.

_May 11._—This day we took our leaves of our worthy Tripoli friends, in

order to return for Aleppo. We had some debate with ourselves, whether

we should take the same way by which we came when outward bound, or a

new one by Emissa, Hempse, and Hamal. But we had notice of some

disturbances upon this latter road, so we contented ourselves to return

by the same way we came; for having had enough by this time both of the

pleasure and of the fatigue of travelling, we were willing to put an end

to both the nearest and speediest way. All that occurred to us new in

these days' travel was a particular way used by the country people in

gathering their corn, it being now harvest time. They plucked it up by

handfuls from the roots, leaving the most fruitful fields as naked as if

nothing had ever grown on them. This was their practice in all places of

the east that I have seen; and the reason is that they may lose none of

their straw, which is generally very short, and necessary for the

sustenance of their cattle, no hay being here made. I mention this,

because it seems to give light to that expression of the Psalmist,

"which withereth before it be plucked up,"[631] where there seems to be

a manifest allusion to this custom. Our new translation renders this

place otherwise; but in so doing it differs from most or all other

copies, and here we may truly say the old is the better. There is indeed

mention of a mower in the next verse, but then it is such a mower as

fills not his hand, which confirms rather than weakens the preceding

interpretation.

Returning, therefore, by our former stages without any notable

alteration or occurrence, we came in eight days to the Honey Khan, at

which place we found many of our Aleppine friends, who, having heard of

our drawing homeward, were come out to meet us and welcome us home.

Having dined together, and congratulated each other upon our happy

reunion, we went onward the same evening to Aleppo.

Thus, by God's infinite mercy and protection, we were restored all in

safety to our respective habitations. And here, before I conclude, I

cannot but take notice of one thing more, which I should earnestly

recommend to the devout and grateful remembrance of every person engaged

in this pilgrimage, viz., that amongst so great a company as we were,

amidst such a multiplicity of dangers and casualties, such variety of

food, airs, and lodgings (very often none of the best), there was no one

of us that came to any ill accident throughout our whole travels, and

only one that fell sick by the consequences of the journey after our

return, which I esteem the less diminution to so singular a mercy, in

regard that, amongst so many of my dear friends and fellow-travellers,

it fell to my own share to be the sufferer. Δόξα Θεῷ.

* * * * *

Since the book was printed off, the two following letters, relating

to the same subject, were communicated by the Rev. Mr. Osborn,

Fellow of Exeter College; to whom they were sent by the author, in

answer to some questions proposed by him.

SIR,

I RECEIVED yours of June 27, 1698, and returned you an answer to it

in brief, about three months since, promising to supply what was

then wanting at some other opportunity, which promise I shall now

make good. You desired an account of the Turks, and of our way of

living amongst them. As to the former, it would fill a volume to

write my whole thoughts about them. I shall only tell you at

present that I think they are very far from agreeing with that

character which is given of them in Christendom, especially for

their exact justice, veracity, and other moral virtues, upon

account of which I have sometimes heard them mentioned with very

extravagant commendations, as though they far exceed Christian

nations. But I must profess myself of another opinion; for the

Christian religion, how much soever we live below the true spirit

and excellency of it, must still be allowed to discover so much

power upon the minds of its professors as to raise them far above

the level of a Turkish virtue. It is a maxim that I have often

heard from our merchants, that a Turk will always cheat when he

can find an opportunity. Friendship, generosity, and wit (in the

English notion), and delightful converse, and all the qualities of

a refined and ingenuous spirit, are perfect strangers to their

minds, though in traffic and worldly negotiations they are acute

enough, and are able to carry the accounts of a large commerce in

their heads without the help of books, by a natural arithmetic,

improved by custom and necessity. Their religion is framed to keep

up great outward gravity and solemnity, without begetting the least

good tincture of wisdom or virtue in the mind. You shall have them

at their hours of prayer, which are four a day always, addressing

themselves to their devotions with the most solemn and critical

washings, always in the most public places, where most people are

passing, with most lowly and most regular protestations, and a

hollow tone, which are amongst them the great excellencies of

prayer. I have seen them, in an affected charity, give money to

bird-catchers (who make a trade of it), to restore the poor

captives to their natural liberty, and at the same time hold their

own slaves in the heaviest bondage; and at other times they will

buy flesh to relieve indigent dogs and cats, and yet curse you with

famine and pestilence, and all the most hideous execrations, in

which way these eastern nations have certainly the most exquisite

rhetoric of any people upon earth. They know hardly any pleasure

but that of the sixth sense. And yet with all this, they are

incredibly conceited of their own religion, and contemptuous of

that of others, which I take to be the great artifice of the devil,

in order to keep them his own. They are a perfect visible comment

upon our blessed Lord's description of the Jewish Pharisees. In a

word, lust, arrogance, covetousness, and the most exquisite

hypocrisy, complete their character. The only thing that ever I

could observe to commend in them is the outward decency of their

carriage, the profound respect they pay to religion and to every

thing relating to it, and their great temperance and frugality. The

dearness of any thing is no motive in Turkey, though it be in

England, to bring it into fashion.

As for our living amongst them, it is with all possible quiet and

safety; and that is all we desire, their conversation being not in

the least entertaining. Our delights are among ourselves; and here

being more than forty of us, we never want a most friendly and

pleasant conversation. Our way of life resembles in some measure

the academical. We live in separate squares, shut up every night

after the manner of colleges. We begin the day constantly, as you

do, with prayers, and have our set times for business, meals, and

recreations. In the winter we hunt in the most delightful champaign

twice a week; and in the summer go as often to divert ourselves

under our tents, with bowling and other exercises; so that you see

we want not divertisements, and these all innocent and manly. In

short, it is my real opinion, that there is not a society out of

England that for all good and desirable qualities may be compared

to this. But enough of this confusion, which I would have

shortened, and put in better order, if I had had time.

March 10, 1698.

* * * * *

SIR,

As for your questions about Gehazi's posterity and the Greek

excommunications, I have little to answer; but yet, I hope, enough

to give you and your friend satisfaction. When I was in the Holy

Land I saw several that laboured under Gehazi's distemper, but none

that could pretend to derive his pedigree from that person. Some

of them were poor enough to be his relations; particularly at

Sichem (now Naplosu) there were no less than ten (the same number

that were cleansed by our Saviour not far from the same place) that

came begging to us at one time. Their manner is to come with small

buckets in their hands, to receive the alms of the charitable,

their touch being still held infectious, or at least unclean. The

distemper, as I saw it in them, was very different from what I have

seen it in England; for it not only defiles the whole surface of

the body with a foul scurf, but also deforms the joints of the

body, particularly those of the wrists and ankles, making them

swell with a gouty, scrofulous substance, very loathsome to look

upon. I thought their legs resembled those of old, battered horses,

such as are often seen in drays in England. The whole distemper,

indeed, as it there appeared, was so noisome that it might well

pass for the utmost corruption of the human body on this side the

grave; and certainly the inspired penmen could not have found out a

fitter emblem whereby to express the uncleanness and odiousness of

vice. But to return to Gehazi, it is no wonder if the descent from

him be by time obscured, seeing the best of the Jews, at this time

of day, are at a loss to make out their genealogies. But, besides,

I see no necessity in Scripture for his line being perpetuated. The

term "for ever" is, you know, often taken in a limited sense in

holy writ, of which the designation of Phineas's family to the

priesthood[632] may serve for an instance. His posterity was, you

know, cut entirely off from the priesthood, and that transferred to

Eli (who was one of another line) about three hundred years after.

I have inquired of a Greek priest, a man not destitute either of

sense or probity, about your other question. He positively affirmed

it, and produced an instance of his own knowledge in confirmation

of it. He said that, about fifteen years ago, a certain Greek

departed this life without absolution, being under the guilt of a

crime which involved him in the sentence of excommunication, but

unknown to the church. He had Christian burial given him; and,

about ten years after, a son of his dying, they had occasion to

open the ground near where his body was laid, in order to bury his

son by him, by which means they discovered his body as entire as

when it was first laid in the grave. The shroud was rotted away,

and the body naked and black, but perfectly sound. Report of this

being brought to the bishop, he immediately suspected the cause of

it, and sent several priests (of whom the relator was one) to pray

for the soul of the departed, and to absolve him at his grave;

which they had no sooner done, but (as the relator goes on) the

body instantly dissolved and fell into dust, like slacked lime; and

so, well satisfied with the effect of their absolution, they

departed. This was delivered to me _verbo sacerdotis_. The man had

hard fortune not to die in the Romish communion; for then his body

being found so entire would have entitled him to saintship; for the

Romanists, as I have both heard and seen, are wont to find out and

maintain the relics of saints by this token; and the same sign

which proves an _anathema maranatha_ amongst the Greeks,

demonstrates a saint amongst the Papists. Perhaps both are equally

in the right.

_April 12, 1700._

FOOTNOTES:

[526] Maundrell was chaplain to the English factory at Aleppo. See the

Introduction.

[527] Bell-Maez, "I don't know," probably an answer to Maundrell's

question, "What is the name of that village?" and not the name itself.

[528] Mr. Ainsworth informs me that he verified the account given of

this fissure by personal examination, and found it to be perfectly

correct in its descriptive details.

[529] The Nosairi, or Ansarians.

[530] Markah, the ancient Marathus.

[531] Nat. Hist., lib. v. cap. 20.

[532] Gen. x. 18.

[533] Strabo, p. 518.

[534] Nat. Hist, lib. v. cap. 20.

[535] 1 Mac. xii. 25, 30.

[536] Antiq. Jud., lib. 14, cap. 7, 8.

[537] Page 213.

[538] Strabo, lib. 16, Pomp. Mela, lib. i. cap. 12.

[539] Half per Frank, quarter per servant.

[540] This is certainly an erroneous notion: the Druses are alluded to

by the rabbi Benjamin in the 12th century. See pp. 79, 80.

[541] Vales. Not. in Euseb. Eccl. Hist., lib. vii. cap. 9.

[542] Πρὸς Τύρω Ποταμὸς ἐξίησι, p. 521.

[543] Ezek. xxvi. 27, 28.

[544] Ezek. xxvi. 14.

[545] Eccl. Hist., lib. x. cap. 4.

[546] Mentioned Josh. xix. 29, and Jud. i. 31.

[547] Judges, i. 31.

[548] Ammianus Marcellinus says the Greek and Roman names of places

never took amongst the natives of this country, which is the reason that

most places retain their first oriental names at this day.—Hist. lib.

xiv., non longe ab initio.

[549] Acre has gained a new celebrity by the events of which it has been

the scene in more recent times. Most of the ruins described by Maundrell

have disappeared to make place for modern buildings; and the population,

said to have been not more than 300 or 400 in the seventeenth century,

is now estimated at above 20,000.

[550] Judges, v. 21.

[551] For both caphars, eight _per_ frank, and three _per_ servant.

[552] Many of the pillars still remain. According to the accounts of

modern travellers, the ruins of Sebaste appear to be more interesting

than we might suppose from Maundrell's slight notice.

[553] Antiq. Jud., lib. v. cap. 9.

[554] Ibid., lib. iv. cap. ult.

[555] Deut. ii. 29.

[556] Deut. xxvii. 4.

[557] Deut. xi. 29.