MEIRON.

Haifa, July 20.—One of the most interesting and little-known spots in

Palestine is the famous shrine of Jewish pilgrimage called Meiron.

Hither, in the latter part of the month of May, Hebrews resort in vast

numbers from all parts, especially of the East, and as many as two

thousand are often encamped there at a time. It is situated in a wild

part of the mountains of central Galilee, on the edge of the most

fertile plateau in the whole district, where the villages are surrounded

by the most luxuriant gardens and groves, and the peasantry are in a

more prosperous condition than I have seen elsewhere. Meiron itself is a

wonderfully romantic spot; perched at an elevation of twenty five

hundred feet above the sea, upon the northeastern flank of a high spur

of the Jebel Jermuk range, it commands a magnificent view of the

surrounding country, with the town of Safed, towering on its

mountain-top, distant about five miles. A clear, brawling stream tumbles

in a series of small cascades down the narrow gorge, which expands just

here sufficiently to allow of some orchards of apricots, figs, and

pomegranates; and near a spreading weeping-willow there is a picturesque

old flour-mill, which turns to advantage so unusual a supply of

water-power. A hundred yards or so above it is the spot sacred to Jewish

devotees. A large, oblong courtyard, around which runs a broad stone

balcony, upon which open chambers crowned with domes, marks the site of

the burial-places of some of the most celebrated rabbis of Jewish

history, and forms a sort of caravansary for the pilgrims. It was not

the moment of the pilgrimage at the time of my visit, and I had a choice

of chambers. Two of these had been fitted up most comfortably for my

benefit, with beds and tables, by the Safed Jews who accompanied me, and

who did the honours of the place. It was no doubt the sacredness of the

tombs at Meiron which was the cause of Safed being constituted a Jewish

colony and a holy city. Here are situated the tombs of the Rabbi

Jochanan Sandelar, of the celebrated Rabbi Simeon ben Jochai, the

reputed author of the book of the Sohar, and the Father of the

Cabalists. Here repose the remains of his son, the Rabbi Eleazer; but

more celebrated than all are the sepulchres of the great saints and

doctors, Shammai and Hillel. The thirty-six pupils of the latter were

buried with him. He founded a school of morals immediately prior to the

birth of Christ; and, indeed, it is maintained by Jews that all the

ethics of Christianity are to be found in the teaching of Hillel, to

which Christ simply gave a more forcible expression than it had hitherto

received.

Of all the tombs that of Hillel is the most remarkable. It is a huge

cavern on the steep hillside, situated about half-way between the

Courtyard of Shrines above, and the stream below. We first enter a

chamber with loculi hewn out of the solid rock on each side. Passing

through a doorway cut in the rock, we enter a chamber eighteen feet by

twenty-five, with seven loculi in recess on the right, and the same

number on the left, while facing us is a recess eighteen feet deep and

seven wide, containing four sarcophagi hewn out of the rock. On each

side of this recess is a smaller one, each containing four loculi. Most

of them are covered by stone lids with raised corners, making in all

thirty-six rock tombs in this one cave. The rocks all around are much

cut in places into steps, cisterns, and olive-presses. There are also

three dolmens on the north side of Meiron; they are not far apart, and

are quite distinct, though of small dimensions; there are no traces or

marks of any kind on the stones. In the shrine above these are chambers

which are pointed out as traditional tombs. Near one of these was the

synagogue, in which, when I visited it, there were an old man and his

son engaged in their devotions. The old man had never left the room day

or night for seven years, having lived the whole of that time on one

meal a day of bread and water, while he slept on a mat on the stones. He

had thus become invested with the odour of sanctity in the eyes of my

Jewish companions. His son, a boy of fifteen, was rapidly praying

himself into the state of imbecility at which his venerable parent, by

dint of swaying his body to and fro, and his unceasing chanting, had

already arrived. He reminded me of the Buddhist hermits whom I have seen

in China on their way to Nirvana, and was a sight more painful than

edifying. At the corners of the courtyard are stone erections like

fonts, and some of these are also near the rock tombs; these, when the

Jewish festival of “the burning” takes place, are filled with oil, which

is set on fire, and rich Jews, desirous of showing their devotion, offer

to the flames the most costly articles in their possession. The richest

shawls, scarfs, handkerchiefs, and the rarest books are dipped in oil

and consumed, and when any article of special value is burned, the

spectators, who are already intoxicated with wine and excitement, burst

forth with frantic plaudits of delight. Such was the account given to me

by eye-witnesses, but possibly next year I may be able to give you a

description of this unique and little-known festival from personal

observation.

About fifty yards higher up the hill is one of the most interesting

Jewish ruins existing in Palestine. It is the remains of a synagogue,

which, according to Jewish tradition, dates from fifty years after the

destruction of Jerusalem.

It was about this time, or a little later, that the Jews presented the

extraordinary spectacle of two regular and organized communities, one

under a sort of spiritual head, the Patriarch of Tiberias, comprehending

all of Israelitish descent who inhabited the Roman Empire; the other

under the Prince of the Captivity, to whom all the Eastern Jews paid

their allegiance. The Romans recognized the Patriarchship of Tiberias,

granted it special privileges, and the Jewish colony round Tiberias

under its auspices became very powerful. Schools of Talmudic learning

were established, and the most celebrated rabbis wrote, and, in fact,

stamped with their learning the Judaism which has felt their influence

to the present day. Then it was that Meiron became their place of

burial, and that the largest and most ancient synagogue of which we have

any traces was built at Meiron. The site of the synagogue was chosen on

the eastern side of a rocky mound, and the western side and floor were

excavated out of the solid rock. The whole of the area is ninety feet by

fifty. Pieces of columns are lying about, with pedestals and capitals,

but many of the finest fragments have rolled down the eastern slope. The

edifice fronted the south, and here the façade remains, with a fine

portal of large hewn blocks of stone, and a side door. Some of the

stones are four and a half feet long by two and a half thick. The portal

is ten and a half feet high by five and a half wide. Its side-posts are

each of a single stone elaborately sculptured. The sculptured lintel

projects somewhat above the side-posts, but I could see nothing of the

Hebrew inscription which some of the old writers mention as being over

the door. The centre stone was shaken out of its place by the earthquake

of 1837. Altogether, the situation and general aspect of this singular

ruin, projecting as it does out of the overhanging solid rock, is full

of picturesque as well as of historical interest. Meiron is probably

mentioned by Josephus as Meroth, a place fortified by him in Upper

Galilee. Dr. Thomson identifies it with the Meroz, so bitterly cursed by

Deborah because the inhabitants would not join the expedition of Barak.

And, in confirmation of this, there is a fountain near Meiron called to

this day by the Jews Deborah's fountain, but the Sephardim rabbi, who

was my guide, philosopher, and friend at Meiron, identified it with

Shimrom-Meron, whose king was one of the thirty-one mentioned in the

Book of Joshua as having been smitten by him on entering Canaan.

A great part of the village belonged to the rabbi, and, with a view of

encouraging agriculture among his coreligionists, he had put six Jewish

families from Morocco on the land, who were accustomed to farming, and

were doing well. Besides these there were twelve Moslem families, which

completed the population of the village. I was much struck by the

good-feeling which existed between them and the Jews, the sheik whom I

visited speaking in the highest terms of the latter, as being

hard-working and excellent agriculturists. Indeed, in walking over the

village lands, those which were cultivated by Jewish labour compared

favourably with the crops of the Fellahin. Altogether, I was so much

attracted by Meiron and its neighbourhood, which is full of interesting

remains that have not yet been thoroughly examined, from an antiquarian

point of view, that I propose paying it another visit.

Behind Meiron rises Jebel Jermuk, the highest mountain in western

Palestine. I scrambled up it one day, finding myself as I did so in the

midst of the wildest scenery to the west of the Jordan. Here villages

were few and far between. Nothing was to be seen but rocky gorges and

wild hillsides, trackless, excepting where the goats follow each other

in search of herbage, but with a grand and savage beauty which it is

difficult to reconcile with the idea that they ever supported a large

population. Probably, even in the most flourishing days of Palestine,

these highlands were always its wildest parts, and there are

comparatively few ancient sites or traces of ruins in the remote

recesses of these mountains. Jebel Jermuk rears its rounded summit to a

height of four thousand feet above the sea-level, and about three

hundred feet below the top are the ruins of a village which was

abandoned about twenty years ago by twelve Jewish families, which formed

its entire population, and who were all cultivators of the soil and

owners of flocks and herds. In those days it was the highest inhabited

spot in Palestine, and it is wonderful to think its pure mountain air

should not have protected the inhabitants against cholera, which was

then decimating the country. So far from such being the case, nearly the

whole male population was carried off, and the village was abandoned,

and finally became the property of a Druse village about three miles

distant. The stone walls of the houses are still standing, and there is

a well of delicious water, shaded by trees, making the spot altogether a

desirable retreat from the summer heats and a healthy locality for a

colony, if it were not so inaccessible. These mountains are not

frequented by Bedouin Arabs, and need nothing but roads and cultivation

to make many now barren spots fertile and profitable. The more one

travels over the less-frequented parts of the country, the more one is

struck with the extent of its undeveloped resources and with the

possible future which is in store for it.