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OUE LORD AND HIS APOSTLES

Sjna, §xtm, ml |talg:
A SUCCESSION OF
VISITS TO THE SCENES GE NE'VT TESTAMENT NARKATIVE.

BY W. H. BAETLETT,
AUTHOR OT "WALKS ABOUT JEUUSALEM," "THE NILE BOAT,'
ETC. ETC.

#Briiti (fiitiiit.

LONDON :

1

AETHUE

HALL, VIETUE

&

CO.

25,

PATERNOSTER RQ-W.
1852.

LONBON :
PRINTED BY KIOHABD CLAY.
BREAD-STBEBT-HILl.

MXv39

ILLUSTEATIONS.

li^ugiitDiiigs n §inl

9.
10.11.
12. 13.
14. 15.
16.17.
18.19.
20.
21.22.23.

ENGRAVED BY
Map  W. ff^iglies .
Aroh OP Thus (Frontispiece) .  A. fV-illmo-i-e,
Holt Tree at Matakea {Title-page)  0, Cousen.
Tyke  C. Co-men .
Damascus . .  . . . C. Coiisen .
Ravine of Seleuoia . ... ..../. Couse-a .
Antioch ...  C. Coiisen .
Rhodes  A. Willmore
Athens   A. Willmore
The Spot where Paul stood  .A, Will-more
The Propylea . . . .  E. Bra-ndard
Cenohilsa  .... . . J. Cousen .
The Rock of Corinth  J. C. BenUe-y
Smtrna . .  C. Co-usen .
Theatre at Ephesus  /. Co-iisen .
Tomb of Lazarus at Bethany .  J. Couse-n .
Garden of Gethsemane  J. Cousen .
Tiberias  A, Willmore
Saphet, and Lake of Tiberias .  A, Willmore
Syracuse  . . E, Brandard
Reggio ...  /. Coiisen ,
PuTEOLi   G, Cousen
Rome ...... . . . E. Brandard

TO FACE
PAGE

26

74 93
102 106
111
115116
134141
163164
205 208
223225
228 233

a2

IV ILLUSTRATIONS.

WOODCUTS, BY BRANSTON.

PAGE
1. Walls of Acre ......... ....... 23
2. Tomb at Seleuoia ... ...  *>6
3. Port of Seleuoia . . .   °'
4. Wall at Antioch  ¦ • '^
5. Arch near Issus   ^0
6. Temple of Theseus  ¦ ¦ 108
7. Troas  131
8. Tomb at Assos  132
9. Assos from the Sea  ib-
10. Place of St. Polycaep's Martyrdom  135
11. Ci:sAEEA   148
12. Lady's Tower  174
13. Jacob's Well  ... 184
14. Samaria   186
15. Nain  190
16. Nazareth  192
17. Mount Tabor  198
18. Tower of the Winds   199
19. Coin of Ship  215
20. Cape Salmone  216
21. St. Paul's Bay  219
22. Misenum  226
23. Arch of Drusus  . . . . 231
24. Coin, Jud.ea Capta . . .  ... 237

ERRATA.
Page 9, for Consolato, read Consulato.
67, for Mount St. Cymon, read tbe mountain.
78, for Adona, read Adana.
91, /or Solis, read Soli.
119, for juxtonilla, read juxtaniUa.
183, for Japliet, read Saphet.

CONTENTS.

PAGE
CHAPTER I.
Alexandria to Jaffa — War in Palestine — Acre — Tyre — Sidon — Beyrout
— The Cedars — Baalbeo — Damascus, &c  ... . 1

CHAPTER IL
From Beyrout to Seleucia, Antioch, Tarsus, etc. — Coasting Voyage to
Rhodes ...   63

CHAPTER III.
Alexandria to Athens — Lycaeettus — Mars' Hill — Temple of Theseus —
Propylea — Acropolis — Temple of Jupiter — Cenchr«a — Corinth —
Patras ...  ... 

CHAPTER IV.
Return to Syria — Constantinople — The Plague— Assos — Smyrna — Cos —
Cyprus — Beyrout — CiESAREA — Jerusalem, and its Environs .... 121
CHAPTER V.
Jerusalem to Nabulus and Samaria — Nain — Nazareth — Mount Tabor —
Tiberias and Saphet . . .  183
CHAPTER VI.
Voyage and Shipwreck of St. Paul — Embarkation at Cjesarea — Course to
Malta — Syracuse— Reggio — Puteoli — Rome .  214

Msxh big % mmt |ittt^0r.
1.
GLEANINGS, ANTIQUARIAN AND PICTORIAL,
ON THE OVERLAND ROUTE,
Illustrated with 28 Steel Plates and Maps, and 23 Woodcuts.
Recently published, in super-royal Svo. price 16s. handsomely bound in cloth gilt,
or 28s. morocco elegant.
"Tlie present work is as excellent as his former productions, for its lively and picturesque
narrative, and for the exquisite engravings by which it is illustrated." — Aikeneeum,
" It is unquestionably one of the most elegant volumes ever published. The letterpress gives
an excellent historical account of Malta, with graphic slietches of travelling adventures, both at
that place and at Gibraltar." — Atlas,
" Should be in the hands of every person travelling by the Overland Route, as well as m every
library in the kingdom with the least pretensions to completeness." — Observer,
2.
THE NILE BOAT;
OR,
GLIMPSES OF THE LAND OF EGYPT.
Illustrated by 3 5 Steel Engravings and Maps, with numerous Cuts. Second Edition,
iu super-royal Svo. price 16s, cloth gilt ; 28s. morocco gilt.
" Of Mr. Bartlett's merits as a pictorial traveller we have frequently' had occasion to speak in
terms of high commendation. In the present work he has been eminently successful." — AthcTUEum,
3.
FORTY DAYS IN THE DESERT,
©n tje CracB at tp Israelites ;
Or, a Journey from Cairo by Wady Feiran to Mount Sinai and Petra.
With 27 Engravings on Steel, a Map, and numerous Woodcuts.
Fourth Edition, in super-royal Svo. price 12s. cloth gilt ; morocco gilt, 21s.
" The author presents, in this volume, one of the most picturesque accounts of the route across
the wilderness of sand we have ever read." — Morning Herald.
i.
WALKS ABOUT JERUSALEM AND ITS Em^RONS.
Illustrated by 24 Steel Engravings, 2^Maps, and many superior "Woodcuts.
New Edition, in super-royal Svo. cloth gilt, 125. ; morocco gilt, 21s.
" The volume is well got up in point of embellishments, and contains much valuable matter,
¦with illustrations beautifully executed." — Church of England Magazinn.
" It is very elegantly got up, and will be richly ornamental to the table of any drawing-room,
library, or boudoir." — Wesleyan Association Magazine.
" We have at length, in this attractive volume, the desideratum of a complete picturesque guide
to the topography of Jerusalem." — Patriot.
" Our impression is, that Jerusalem was never before so successfully delineated." — Evangelical
Magazine. 5.
SCRIPTURE SITES AND SCENES,
FROM ACTUAL SURVEY,
m EGYPT, ARABIA, AND PALESTINE.
Illustrated by 17 Steel Engravings, 3 Maps, and 37 Woodcuts. Now ready,
price is. cloth gilt, post 8vo.

CHAPTER I.
ALEXASDKIA TO JAJTA — WAE IS PALESTINE — AOKE — TVUE — SIDON —BEYEOUT
— THE CBDABS — BAALBEC — DAMASCUS, &C.
Some few years back, in the red and glowing haze of an
Egyptian sunset, a party of Frank travellers stood upon the sandy
shore of the harbour of Alexandria, surrounded by their hetero
geneous packages, and awaiting the uprising of that evening
breeze which was to waft them to the coast of Palestine. In
those days Mediterranean travelling was very different from what
it now is, steam-boats were not yet introduced, and the impatient
pilgrim, with his imagination eagerly fixed upon the sacred
localities of his religion, or the wonders of Egypt, had often to
waste many weary days, or perhaps weeks upon the way, before he
could attain the desired object. Such had been the case in the
present instance. After long waiting to no purpose for an
opportunity of proceeding to Jaffa, our party, in pure despair,
had at length chartered a vessel to that port, and laid in a stock
of provisions sufficient to last them the passage. With every
preparation made, and impatience at its utmost stretch, the Arab
captain still found each day some pretext, real or imaginary, for
delaying his departure. Sometimes the wind was positively
contrary ; sometimes it was fair, but then either too strong or else
too light ; and it was only at a propitious juncture, when the
steady land-breeze promised to carry us fairly to our destination
in four-and-twenty hours, that the dilatory Reis at length arose,
B

THE PASSENGERS.

took the pipe out of his mouth, tightened his girdle, shuffled on
his papooshes, screamed madly to his ragged sailors, and
definitively prepared to embark.
Of the party of five, squeezed with their baggage into the
ship's little crazy boat, four were Englishmen, and one American,
and even amidst the grotesque variety of character and costume
which salutes the eye at Alexandria, they were justly regarded
by the natives as something out of the common way. They
were, for the most part, men of good family and means, who, at
home, would, some of them, have been remarked for nothing
save aristocratic propriety and retenu, and fastidious attention to
the minutise of fashionable costume. They had just returned
from a cruise up the Nile, their countenances were — not bronzed,
according to the usual phrase, but they were literally hahed
into the dark red colour of Egyptian brickdust, and their
undipped beards and moustaches had grown into more than
oriental amplitude and savagery. Their costume ! — that beggars
all description for its reckless abandon, and proud indifference to
public opinion. One wore the wreck of an old plaid shooting-
jacket, with capacious pockets, stuffed with powder and shot, his
waistcoat had long been discarded as worse than useless ; what
had been once a shirt, now scarcely more than a waistcoat,
flew wildly away fi-om the open brawny chest ; and in lieu of
braces, a thick red sash, stuck full of pistols, was gu't around
his loins, serving, doubtfully, to uphold a pair of trowsers ia the
last stage of disorganization. His head and feet were h la
Turque, the former being surmounted by a huge turban, the
latter thrust stockingless into a pair of pointed red papooshes.
Others preferred rather to reverse this process, wearing broad-
brimmed straw hats over a sort of fancy oriental costume selected
at random from the bazaars ; in all, the incongruity was equally
ludicrous, and all were equally and utterly callous about it. So
cool and yet so crazy looking a set baffled the speculations of the
orientals, who looked up to them with something of that reverence

ARAB COASTING VESSEL. 3
accorded to those whom a mysterious Providence afflicts with
mental hallucination.
On boarding the rugged sides of the ship, and gaining its
deck, the wisdom of our captain's precaution became somewhat
disagreeably evident. The Arabs, we know, were the first to
brave the perils of the deep, but they have not kept pace with
the gTadual improvement in navigation. Our vessel was just
like the old models in nautical cabinets of ships in the middle
ages, high tilted at the poop and stem, and with masts, spars,
and rigging of curious and antique fashion. So far so good — to
a lover of the picturesque ; but this was not all ; the craft was
perilously crazy, the seams yawned as if the shrunken planks
were about to come asunder, the ropes and sails looked as if the
first stiff breeze would snap the one and split the others to shreds
and tatters. There was neither chart nor compass on board. It
was, in fact, just a sample of the Arab coasting vessels, the
wrecks of which so picturesquely bestrew the shores of Syria.
But then it was the height of summer ; the azure sea, ruffled by
a light breeze, and reflecting the serene blue of heaven, was pleasant
to look upon, and delicious was the coolness of the humid air,
after the hot atmosphere and glaring sands of Egypt. Jaffa was
but two hundred miles, and if the breeze held, we might hope to
reach our destination in fom--and-twenty hours, and be up at
Jerusalem in time to witness the ceremonies of the Easter week.
The interior of the vessel was as primitive as its build and
tackle. It was simply decked over from stem to stern, the
interior being totally hollow, and looking, with its naked
planking and rough ribs, like the interior of some monstrous
skeleton, and smelling as if the process of desiccation had been
imperfectly accomplished. There was no level boarding at the
bottom, which was covered with sand and shingle, by way at
once of flooring and ballast. A portion of about one-third of
this dark den was partitioned off as a cabin, into which, we
descended, and from which, we ascended, by the gymnastic process
B 2

4 DEPARTUHB FROM ALEXANDRIA.
of clambering up and down an upright post, having notches cut
into it for the feet. Our carpets and baggage were arranged
upon the sand. Sand is said to breed fleas, and our experience
fully tended to corroborate the opinion. Nothing, in short, but
nasal and ocular evidence could convey to the reader a correct
idea of the interior of this worm-eaten old ark, or of the
" creeping things innumerable " that took up their habitation
within its uncleanly chinks.
With the usual amount of frenzied gesticulations and unearthly
howling, our Arabs hoisted their tattered sail to the breeze, and
with a turbaned old pilot to direct our way between the perilous
sunken rocks that impede its entrance, we flew rapidly out of the
harbour of Alexandria into the open sea. We had lighted upon
a period then loudly vaunted as that of the " regeneration of
Egypt." That ancient land, fallen from her ancient glory into
the condition so emphatically called in prophecy the " basest of
kingdoms," was supposed to be on the point of springing into
new life at the bidding of Mehemet Ali. Wherever we looked
around, we saw the evidences of his marvellous energy; new
lighthouses appeared, palaces and arsenals bordered the harbour,
and huge three-deckers and frigates studded its bosom, while the
number of merchant-ships bore testimony equally palpable of
increasing commerce. The ambitious designs of Mehemet Ali
were then in full and successful development. Acre had recently
surrendered to his power, and the whole of Syria had submitted
to his sway. Ibrahim Pasha, we knew, was then in that country
with his army, engaged in compelling the reluctant acquiescence
of the petty chiefs to a new and regular system of govemment ;
one of the first results of which would be the entire security of
travellers, and the certainty of their being treated with every
consideration both by the pasha and his ou.cials. We had
wisely provided ourselves -with fiiTuans, enjoining the latter to
aid and assist us, and might reasonably anticipate a triumphant
progTCSs through the length and breadth of the land. With

VOYAGE TO JAPFA. 5
anticipations thus pleasurable, we beheld the low shores of Egypt,
the Pharos of Alexandria, and the tall masts of the men-of-war,
gradually lessening from oui- vision, until after one of those solemn
sunsets, to which no description could do justice, they vanished
in the obscurity of night.
Our old craft skimmed prosperously over the gently rippling
sea, which, as she moved along, was churned into a wake
glittering with phosphoric splendoiu- ; the stars in countless hosts
were above our heads, the night, in short, was splendid, but this
could not withdraw our thoughts from the discomforts of our
situation. The idea of going below was hon-ible ; we preferred
to have our mattresses spread upon the deck, dovetailed as
well as the limited space at our command permitted, and then
covering ourselves with cloaks, lay down for the night, emphatically
under the guidance of Providence, and Providence alone.
When we awoke and had rubbed our eyes next morning, the
sight that saluted us was most disheartening. The breeze had
almost died away, coming only in occasional puffs, the sea was
calm as glass. We had hoped to see the evening's sun
shining on the waUs of Jaffa, but we had evidently made but
little progress, and whether that progress was in the right direc
tion, was painfully problematical. Our Arab captain evidently
had but one plan, that of the boy lost in the wood, to go straight
on till he came to the end of it — somewhere, and this was the way
in which he expected to make the coast of Syria, unless, indeed,
it should happen to be that of Cyprus, or peradventure that from
which we had just departed. But we were determined not yet to
croak ; we had a good stock of fowls, plenty of rice, and with the
aid of these " vivers," worked into a capital j?z7ait by the skill of
our cook, we contrived to get through the first day in tolerable
good humour. But alas ! there came a second, and a third, and a
fourth, and still the same unvarying blue sky and sickly-gleaming
sea, upon which we seemed to be enchanted, for while we were
almost always sailing towards the land, we never somehow could

COAST OF PALESTINE.

contrive to make it, though we knew we must have gone double
the .distance. Provisions, too, were rapidly running out, and it
was with the most melancholy feelings that we beheld the cook
drag forth from his coop our last surviving fowl, and behead him
upon the bulwark for a last pilau. But on the fifth moming all
our troubles were suddenly dissipated. As the light vapour,
which hung like a veil over the sea, was lifted by the rising sun,
there came into view a long blue range of distant mountains, at
first resembling a bar of clouds, and mistaken more than once
for it, but at length, as the light increased, and our vessel
advanced nearer, it was evidently land, and, as we hoped, the
Holy Land, to which our pilgrim steps were directed. Our Reis,
who had been on the coast before, was confident, from its general
configuration, that the coast of Palestine was before him, but at
the same time he gave us to understand with equal clearness,
that he knew not what particular part of it we were abreast of.
Out therefore came all our maps and guide-books, and an
animated discussion took place, at which the captain and all the
crew assisted, with a noise and volubility proportioned to their
ignorance of the matter. On which hand was Jaffa ? should we
stand north or mn south for it? that was the question. A
northerly breeze which happened to spring up, inclined, or rather
compelled us to the latter alternative, and approaching within a
mile of the coast, we continued to follow it to the southward.
Hour after hom- thus passed, and yet no signs of Jaffa
appeared. The country, at first green and pleasant, seemed to
grow more desolate and abandoned as we advanced, we saw
no signs of life, and consequently no inhabitants of whom
we might inquire om- whereabouts. Two eminences rising
above the undulating range of downs arrested our attention as
we passed along, but it was not tiH afterwards that we leamed
that they bore the famous names of Askelon and Gaza.
Slowly the evening came on, and all of us, even the captain,
were seriously disquieted. At length, while speculating as to

AN ADVENTURE. 7
some method of bringing our uncertainty to an end, we
suddenly descried a solitary Arab slowly wending his way along
the sandy beach, distant about half a mile from the ship. A
brilliant idea flashed across the brain of the Reis, his eye
twinkled with sudden inspiration, and he gave instant orders to
lower the ship's boat and give chase to the individual whom
Providence had sent for our succour. The order was obeyed with
unusual alacrity, and in a few moments the boat, manned by two
sailors, was dashing towards the shore, while leaning over the
bulwark in a row, we awaited the result with intense interest.
For some time after the boat left the vessel, the Arab con
tinued to pace on slowly as before ; but as he saw it get nearer
the shore, he suddenly paused and regarded it with evident
uneasiness. It touched the beach at last, and one of the sailors
leaving it in the care of the other, jumped ashore and advanced
in the direction of the chase. At first, not to startle his man,
he walked on gently ; but finding that the Arab quickened his
pace in proportion, he suddenly broke into a run, at the same
time shouting and waving his arms towards the fugitive, who,
his suspicions being now fully confirmed, started off at the
utmost speed of which he was capable. In fact, the terrible
conscription, dreaded above aU things by the Syrians, was then
in full operation, and the man supposed that our object was to
kidnap and carry him off in chains as a recruit. He dashed
on, then, furiously, madly, as if the avenger of blood was behind
him, while we watched the result of the race with an anxiety
produced by the conviction, that possibly our very lives depended
on his capture. The same conviction seemed to animate the
legs of the pm-suing boatman, who after almost superhuman
efforts at length came up with the fugitive, and after running
neck and neck with him for some minutes, bawling aU the while
to him to stop, but bawling in vain, finally clutched his hand
upon his shoulder, and adroitly tripping him up, sent him
rolling over and over in the sand. On jumping to his legs, the

8 ARRIVAL AT JAITA.
man was about to defend himself, when the explanations of his
captor seemed to satisfy him, for he came to a stand still, and
after a quiet parley resumed his onward way, while the
boatman retracing his steps, regained the boat, and both plying
their oars with vigour, in a few moments more were climbing up
the side of the vessel. There was a general rush — and " where
are we?" was the eager demand. The captain's long face seemed
longer and yellower as he leamed the fact, communicated to our
selves by the dragoman, that we had been running all day away
from Jaffa, of which we must have been nearly abreast in the
morning, and that had we but continued our southward career
during the night, we should by daylight have been off the
Pelusian mouth of the Nile, and in a fair way to regain the port
from which we had started. With such a system of navigation,
and with no harbours to run for besides, one ceases to be
startled at the number of wrecks with which the coast of Palestine
is studded. There was of course nothing for it but to get back again to
the latitude of Jaffa as quickly as possible, which we happily
contrived to do about noon on the following day. As we drew
near, the gloomy old city, encircled by its heavy wall, stood out
upon its hill- side, overlooking one of the most ancient sea-ports
iu the world, so old that Noah is traditionally supposed to have
selected it for the building of his ark, and a more miserable place
he could hardly have chosen for the purpose, since it is exceed
ingly confined, and imperfectly defended from the sea by only a
natm-al ledge of rocks, over which the sm-f, in heavy weather,
breaks with tremendous violence, and only approachable through
a passage between them. Several distressing casualties have
occurred in effecting the entrance in small boats, and many a
ship has been dashed to pieces upon the perilous shore. Within
this ledge we perceived what seemed an unusual number of
small boats, and we were no less surprised at the quantity of
tents pitched among the thickets and gardens that environ the

INSURRECTION IN PALESTINE. 9
town. As a pilot-boat came off to take up the passengers
through the reef— for the vessel remained outside — -we ascertained
the meaning of these unexpected appearances. The whole
country, we learned, was in a state of insm-rection. The hill
chiefs of Palestine, accustomed, imder the old standard of the
sultan, to enjoy virtual independence, were not disposed to bend to
the yoke of Ibrahim Pasha ; and taking advantage of the general
disaffection occasioned among- the inhabitants by the conscription,
had raised the standard of revolt, occupied the mountain passes,
and prepared for a desperate and sanguinary struggle. At that
moment Ibrahim Pasha was encamped with a small body of
forces in the vicinity of the town, awaiting the arrival of
succours from Egypt before venturing to measm-e his strength
with the rebellious chieftains.
This information threw a sudden cloud over the bright antici
pations of spirits highly excited with the expectation of reaching
Jerusalem in a few hours. Nevertheless, embarking our effects
and taking leave of the old captain, we descended into the boat,
pushed through the reef, crossed the harbour, and jumped
upon the shore of Palestine, amidst a crowd of vociferous
Arabs and yelping dogs, the latter race, hereditary persecutors
of Frank travellers, raising a tenfold clamour at the sight of
our grotesque habiliments. Preceded by our dragoman, we
hastened through a maze of dark and tortuous alleys to the
abode of the British vice-consul, to seek from his authentic lips
the confirmation or denial of the evil tidings we had just heard.
We speedily reached his house, which differed little fr-om the
dilapidated edifices we had already passed; but having over
its sombre portal the welcome inscription, " Consolato Inglese,"
with some rude attempt at an imitation of our national arms.
We were ushered into a room furnished, although rather meanly,
with divans and mats ; but from its latticed windows, overlooking
the port with its picturesque jumble of shipping, its rugged reef,
and our old vessel, riding at anchor on the bluest of blue seas,

10 BRITISH VICE-CONSUL.
canopied by a cloudless sky of similar intensity of colour,
gemmed by a few barks with huge white sails, flitting birdlike
across the outstretched expanse, — the scene, simple as were its
elements, was lovely, the sea-breeze blew freshly into the
apartment, we had got rid of the old ship, and in spite of
sinister forebodings we could not but rejoice at feeling our feet on
terra fijrma, and on the threshold, at least, of the land which we
had come so far to see.
Our reflections were interrupted by the entrance of a figure
even more grotesque than our own, who saluted us with an
infinity of airs and graces. He was a tall, gaunt, hairy indi
vidual, invested in a long purple gown of state, which had grown
exceedingly shabby, hurriedly and in honour of our visit thrown
over an under garment, which had once been white ; his naked
hairy legs were partially invested in a pair of dirty socks,
terminating in yellow buskins ; while in his hand, as he bowed
and bowed again, he waved theatrically to and fr-o a tarnished
three-cornered cocked hat, which had been bestowed on him,
as we understood, by Napoleon Bonaparte. After a ceremo
nious interchange of obeisances between ourselves and this
dignified representative of our country, we plunged at once " in
medias res," and earnestly inquired of him, through our dra
goman, if the report we had heard was indeed founded in truth.
As he assured us it was, our hearts sank within us. We had
come three thousand miles, through all manner of hindrances
and impediments, to see Jerusalem, and found ourselves balked
when almost within sight of the place. Compassionating our
distress, Signor Damiani (such was the name of the vice-consul)
proposed that we should wait upon the pasha, and learn from
himself the actual state of affairs, at the same time offering to
act as our guide and interpreter, not sorry, perhaps, to have an
opportunity of displaying his dignity as agent to a nation with
which he well knew, as in fact we did all, the pasha desired to
be upon the best of terms. We closed instantly with the proposal ;

JAFFA. 11
the vice-consul mounted his three-cornered hat, and with a mock
heroic dignity escorted us into the street, along which, headed by
himself and his dragoman, as well as our own, we filed in solemn
procession, to the evident satisfaction of the grinning gamins,
and the fearful irritation of the canine part of the population,
who followed at our heels three deep in howling chorus to the
outskirts of the town, in spite of objurgations both loud and deep,
and notwithstanding a volley of stones and brickbats, with which
we attempted to give effect to them.
The streets along which we passed, were like those of most
modern oriental towns, — nests of filth and nm-series of plague,
close, fetid and gloomy, bordered by stone-built houses with
small latticed windows and heavy portals, and in some places
covered over to exclude the glaring sun. The town is of small
extent, and in a few minutes we reached the gate and emerged
into the open country. The change was so perfectly magical
that we all uttered involuntarily an exclamation of surprise.
Indeed, the scene before us was one that could never be
forgotten. A range of long billowy swells of deep red earth
arose from the verge of the blue Mediterranean, which was
rimmed by a border of fine white sand, upon which the crisped
waves, as they chased each other to the brink, broke into long
lines of silvery spray, lighting up the whole landscape with their
flashing brilliancy. The wavy sm-face of deep ochre was every
where dotted with gardens and bosquets of the most vigorous
verdure, in which the palm, fig, ohve, pomegranate, carob and
other oriental trees were matted together into a mass of deepest
green. Roses and jasmines of rare beauty, " the rose of
Sharon," adjacent to Jaffa, being mentioned in Solomon's Song
as the very type of beauty, trailed at will among these verdurous
clumps, and perfumed the air on all sides. But it was not alone
the face of nature which attracted us, for everywhere, perched
upon little monticules or half-hidden among the bowery thickets,
were reared the white and green tents of the Egyptian army.

12 TRRAHUVI PASHA.
Horses were picketed, arms piled, groups of soldiers in the
picturesque white dress and red caps of the Nizam, were thickly
scattered about ; while their officers, in dresses of the same cut,
but gorgeous in crimson, blue, and gold, were smoking and
reposing themselves among thickets of palm and pomegranate.
From the universal air of enjoyment that prevailed, one would
hardly have imagined that the soldiers were on the eve of a
bloody campaign, from which half of them, at least, were never
destined to return. But a few months since and the greater
part of these men had been peasants on the Nile, dragged
from their homes by arbitrary power, and marched in chains to
Cairo, where they had been drilled by French officers, and sent
into Syria to carry out the ambitious designs of the pasha. Yet
to all appearance they seemed quite to have forgotten their
troubles, and from the victims of a deg-rading tyranny, to have
passed easily into its readiest instruments.
On a sandy hillock slightly dominating the whole encamp
ment, a small mosque or tomb, surmounted by a dome, was
pointed out as the head-quarters of Ibrahim, and to this we
accordingly directed our steps, receiving many cordial salutes
from the Egyptian or Frank officers as we threaded our way
through the scattered tents. On reaching the spot, a sentinel
made known our arrival to an aide-de-camp, who at once
conducted us into the interior of the building, in which a few
divans and carpets had been hastily an-anged. Seated upon one
of these was the redoubtable conqueror of Syria, whose name,
like that of Coeur de Lion in the days of the Crusades, thrilled
like a spell of terror through the hearts of his adversaries. There
was something, we thought, of the pride of conquest in his
flashing eye, which redeemed what was otherwise a rather vulgar
and butcherly aspect, as he bowed in return to our respectful
salutations, and beckoned us, with an ill-suppressed smile at our
sublime conductor, to be seated on an opposite divan. Sad to
say, on this occasion, upon which he had been calculating for a

LBRAHIM PASHA. 13
display of his eloquence, poor Damiani found his occupation
gone, and himself reduced to a mere dummy by the presence of
Omar Effendi, an aide-de-camp, and intimate friend of the
pasha's, who had been sent to England when a youth by
Mehemet AU, who spoke our language with surprising fluency,
and whose deportment exhibited not a little of the polish of
European society. With him therefore, to the vexation of the
poor vice-consul, we entered at once upon the business that had
brought us to the place.
After complimenting the pasha upon the success of his arms
and the vigour of his administration, in terms which we were well
assured lost nothing by being translated to him, inasmuch as they
elicited a gracious smile and bow, we inquired more particularly
the chances of our being able to visit Jerusalem. In reply, the
effendi assured us that unless we went in the train of the pasha, the
thing was simply impossible, the mountain passes, through which
the road runs, being strongly guarded by the insurgent Arabs,
who, as he informed us with a satirical smile, regarding the
Franks as the natural allies of Ibrahim, and especially as known
to be the advisers of the detested measure of the conscription,
would not fail to pick us off from their lurking-places, as first-fruits
of their grateful regard. Ibrahim's eye was upon us as this
announcement was made; he observed our blank and disappointed
expression, and with great animation and heightened colour,
addressed a few words to the effendi, which the latter immediately
translated for our benefit. "Why," said the pasha, "should
they not march up with us, and witness the discomfiture of the
rebels, who will fly like chaff before the face of om- victorious
troops ? Even at this moment the sails are in sight, which bear
the expected succours sent from Alexandria ; as soon as they are
landed we shall march without delay ; the campaign will be short
and vigorous, and the English effendi will speedily enter Jeru
salem in triumph. Horses and tents shall be freely fumished,
and every necessary provided, as is the pleasure of his Imperial

14 PREPARATIONS FOR WAR.
Highness, our father. What say they?" We looked in each
other's faces, but reading therein nothing Uke unanimous assent
to this gracious proposition, and conscious that the present was
not the place to enter upon a discussion of its merits, we arose,
and bowing our respectful thanks, with a promise to decide
before the army should be ready to march, we retraced our steps
towards the city.
As we passed through the camp in returning to the town, we
found the air of listless enjoyment had given place to one of
serious preparation. Several ships of war were seen in the
offing, and crowding aU sail, with a fair wind, were rapidly
nearing Jaffa. The place itseU was all in a bustle, an embargo
was being laid upon every boat in the port, for the pm-pose of
landing the approaching succours. In the midst of this scene
of confusion, we retumed to the house of Signor Damiani, who
hospitably placed before our numerous party such refreshment
as the place afforded, over which we held serious consultation
touching the pasha's proposal, at which our worthy host was
present to assist us with his counsel. From his knowledge
of the state of the country, and such information as he had
picked up respecting the force of the insm-gents, he had reason
to believe that the struggle would be more severe and protracted
than Ibrahim was pleased to imagine ; and should this prove to
be the case, and his arms sustain a reverse, our position as his
allies would be extremely critical. On the other hand, should
the pasha's anticipations of victory be fulfiUed, and the country
be reduced to obedience, nothing could be easier than to return
again to Jerusalem by another road through the interior. We
therefore decided — nem. con. — on taking a boat and visiting the
coast, which was then entirely tranquil, until the issue of the
quarrel should be decided.
It was too late to obtain a boat and depart that evening, as all
were wanted to land the troops, and moreover, we so much
enjoyed the lately acquired liberty of our legs, that we had small

JAFFA. 15
disposition to deprive them of it. Leaving aU arrangements
therefore tiU next day, we accordingly sallied forth, determined
to make the most of the time upon our hands.
Jaffa, or Y&i-S,, the ancient Joppa, is oue of those places which
owes more to its venerable associations than to anything else;
"Vox et prseterea nihil," — the name is here everything. In this
antediluvian sea-port, as the Phoenicians considered it, Noah, as
before said, is supposed to have built the ark. Classic tradition
here chains Andromeda to one of the grim rocks of the port,
from which she was delivered by Perseus. Leaving the regions
of fable, we know for certain that the cedar wood from Lebanon,
hewn by the skilful Sidonians, and intended for the erection of
Solomon's Temple, was floated hither from the Tyrian shores,
and conveyed by land to Jerusalem.
By far the most interesting fact connected with Jaffa, however,
is that here was the house of Simon the tanner, to which St.
Peter, after being warned by a symboUcal vision, that the barrier
between Jew and Gentile was broken down by the new dis
pensation, repaired from Jerusalem, to learn the memorable
lesson, as yet ignored by the world, that of a truth " God is no
respecter of persons." As tradition is never at fault in Palestine,
the identical house of the pious Simon is stiU devoutly shown,
and as devoutly beUeved in. Nor is Jaffa without a niche in
modern history. Hardly any one needs reminding that Bonaparte
here put to death, in cold blood, a part of the garrison, on the
ground of a breach of parole, during his short, and, thanks to the
valour of our countrymen, disastrous attempt upon Syria. As
Jaffa is the port of Jerusalem, from which it is distant only about
forty miles, it has always been, too, the chief landing-place of
the innumerable pilgrims who have repaired to the Holy City,
from the earUest times even unto the present day, when large
cargoes annually arrive. As the road lies through a narrow pass,
affording excellent opportunity for levying a tax upon these
unfortunates, the native chieftains little relished the aboUtion of

16 ISSUE OF THE WAR.
such a system, and the rendering the road secm-e by Ibrahim
Pasha. " Hinc iUaa lachrymse ! " One might walk all over Jaffa,
and never dream that anything important could have happened
there, so dull and insignificant is the place, and so destitute of
anything- in the shape of monumental interest. In our western
towns a prison is a thing apart ; here the whole town is a prison,
and one only feels free in emerging from its gloomy gates. In our
perambulations on the following morning, we met with one
of the American missionaries of Jerusalem, who having left
his wife and family there, had come down here on business.
He now found himself unable to regain his home, with the
knowledge, besides, that it would inevitably become the seat of
hostilities, while he was unable to return and protect his exposed
household. Nor were his apprehensions at aU without foundation,
and we had reason to congratulate om-selves that we had retired
from the seat of war. It was not, of course, until some months
afterwards that we leamed the issue of the struggle. Ibrahim
Pasha had marched up into the hill region of Jerusalem, but so
far were the inhabitants from scattering Uke chaff, that they cut
off some of his regiments, and nearly succeeded in capturing their
redoubted leader himself. Some of the Arab chieftains mean
while obtaining ingress, it is said, by creeping up through an
ancient sewer or water-course, the channel of which had become
dry, surprised and sacked the city, and when, at length, the
unfortunate missionary was able to return, he found his home
desolated, and his wife in a state of insanity. It was only after
receiving considerable reinforcements, that the pasha succeeded
at length in overcoming the resistance of the insui-gents.
On the next day, although hardly escaped fi-om the tedium of
a week's voyage, we were again huddled on board a small Arab
coasting bark, which, with our servants and baggage, we
completely filled ; in the hope, however, that five-and-twenty
hom-s at the utmost would carry us to our destination. This
time the fates were propitious, for going on board as the night

ACRE. 17
breeze sprung up, we made such rapid progress that, passing at
a distance the ruins of Csesarea and Castel PellegTino, we doubled
Cape Carmel the following noon, and running across its famous
bay, shortly after landed at the foot of the ramparts of Acre.
This far-famed city, the bulwark of Palestine, so often and so
obstinately contested, had but just passed through one of its
most memorable sieges, and presented at that moment a vivid
picture of the devastation that follows in the track of war. The
whitening bones of camels lay scattered on the strand, and the
ground near the waUs seemed heaving with the ill-concealed
heaps of festering corpses. On entering, by the Jaffa Gate,
this unfortunate town, we found it shattered to pieces from one
end to the other ; whole streets lay in ruins, the roofs of the
mosques were broken in, the fountains dry, and even the huge
and gloomy fortress built by the ferocious Djezzar, with walls
fifteen feet thick, had been laid open to the light of day by the
showers of bombs directed against it during a six months' siege.
Such of the wretched inhabitants as survived, had just began to
patch up again their tottering houses, and some little show of
traffic was beginning to appear in the ruined bazaars. Mehemet
Ali, with his usual energy, was rapidly repairing the fortifications
which his cannon had just been battering to pieces, and at vast
expense rendering this stronghold of his power in Syria
impregnable, as he fondly flattered himself; with what success,
we shall hereafter see.
In the midst of all this, our only refuge was the CathoUc
convent, which had to some extent escaped the general de
struction. The poor monks willingly put the building at our
disposal, and offered us such hospitality as they could. But
the confinement of our quarters, and the scarcity of provisions,
developed an alarming evil — confusion arose in the camp. Like
Abraham and Lot in olden time, we found the land was not
wide enough for ourselves, our servants, and our cattle, and we
were ready to exclaim to one another, like the patriarch to his
c

18 "RUMOURS OF WARS."
brother, " Separate thyself, I pray thee, from me : if thou wilt
take the left hand, then I wiU go to the right ; or if thou depart
to the right hand, then I wiU go the left." The difficulty was
rendered insuperable by the quarrels of our dragomen for place
and precedence. In Syria, where there are neither inns, roads,
nor conveyances, and where, moreover, the traveller is generally
ignorant of the language, he finds it absolutely indispensable
to carry a servant with him, and soon discovers that while
nominally the master, he is really in the power of his dragoman,
who feeds him how he likes, and when he likes, makes him pay
double price for every article purchased, and often runs away and
abandons him in the moment of danger. To manage, therefore,
one of these fellows, requires a constant exercise of fimmess, and
is a perpetual trial of temper ; and where several of them are
together, the difficulty increases Uke a series in geometrical
progression, as, with the low cunning peculiar to them, they
generally contrive to involve their masters in the disputes that
arise among themselves. Such unfortunately was the case in the
present instance ; and it became evident that we must break up
our party, and pursue different paths.
Another cause of division arose. The East has always been
the land of exaggeration ; the imaginative tum of the orientals
leading them to magnify perils, and multiply numbers to an
indefinite extent. We got at last to be quite used to this, but
at first it was rather alarming. We had fallen upon a time
" of wars, and rumours of wars." I was taking a tum through
the bazaars, when an individual accosted me with an air of
mystery, and declared that it would be unsafe to prosecute our
journey. Thousands of insurgents were in the vicinity of the
town, ready to pour through its ruinous breaches, and wrest it
from the possession of Mehemet AU at the news of the sUghtest
reverse sustained by Ibrahim. The roads, he averred, were all
beset, and to proceed would be the merest insanity. I ascended
the ramparts and looked abroad, but not a soul was to be seen ;

ACRE TO MOUNT CARMElj, 19
yet what motive could the man have for deceit ? On returning
home, I told my companions what had happened, and a difference
of opinion immediately arose as to our plans, some maintaining
that it would be running- a foolish risk to go on to Beyrout by
land, when we could proceed thither by sea. Our servants took
up the question ; and my own, who, with a swashing and a
martial outside, was really one of the whitest-livered cowards the
sun ever shone upon, earnestly requested me to let him go by
sea. Should we be attacked by robbers, he pathetically pleaded,
they might content themselves with stripping the masters, but
the throats of the dragomen they would infaUibly cut. The
discussion terminated, at length, by the greater number of our
party deciding to go by sea, and my giving my cowardly
dragoman leave to accompany them, and take charge of my
baggage ; while the American and myself resolved to pursue the
land route by Tyre and Sidon at all hazards, and with a single
attendant. Before separating, however, we resolved to make a visit
together to Mount Carmel, which stood out boldly on the other
side of the bay, projecting its lonely hallowed ridge into the sea,
and crowned with a white convent, which had a particularly
inviting look. The distance being only ten miles by the sea
shore, we did not start till late in the afternoon, and owing to
the perils with which we were said to be environed, we hired a
small escort, which, with our own party, made up a body of
twenty men aU armed to the teeth. We salUed out by the Jaffa
gate, and kept along the shore, pushing our horses through the
spray, and keeping a sharp look-out upon the jungle of prickly
bushes and palmetto shrabs that bordered the sandy beach, in
fuU anticipation that a body of Arabs might suddenly dash
through and dispute the passage ; but we met with nothing
looking half so robber-like as ourselves, and pursued our ride
without the sUghtest let or impediment.
In rounding the bay we forded two rivers of historic interest.
c 2

20 MOUNT CARMEL.
The first, an insignificant stream not far from Acre, was the
Belus, upon the banks of which, according to tradition, glass
was first made by the Phoenicians. The second, which roUs
into the bay near the foot of Mount Carmel, is " that ancient
river, the river Kishon," which once ran into the sea purpled
with the blood^ of the hosts of Sisera. It comes down through
a sedgy jungle, and when swoUen by rains is deep, and dan
gerous to ford. Another mile or two on, is the Uttle town of
Caipha, the roadstead of which offers but uncertain shelter to
barks driven into the bay, as the ribs of many a coasting vessel,
half-buried in the sand, and with the sea breaking wildly over
them, sadly testify. We rode through Caipha, the inhabitants
all coming out to stare at our numerous cavalcade ; and passing
through a venerable olive wood, ascended the rugged steep that
leads up to the top of Carmel.
On the summit of this holy mount we seemed to breathe
another atmosphere than that of the turmoil which had pursued
us since our landing. From the top of the promontory on
which we stood, its rugged sides descended almost perpen
dicularly into the sea. Westward, the vast expanse of water
was bounded only by the aerial horizon, towards which the sun
was solemnly descending through a sky of undisturbed serenity.
The low monotonous roar of the waves, which fretted round the
foot of the crags, just ascended faintly to our ear. Northward,
the eye followed the sinuous outUne of the bay we had just
rounded, and resting for a moment on the white waUs of Acre,
jutting into the sea on their stony reef, traced the distant coast
surmounted by the snowy ridges of Lebanon, faintly melting
into gorgeous haze. Southward, stretching from the foot of the
mount, were the level and desolate plains extending towards
Jaffa. The rocky sm-face of the mount was thickly covered with
wild shrubs and flowers, which, as we crushed them . in our
passage, gave out a pungent and aromatic odour, that, combining
with the freshness of the sea-breeze which plays over this lofty

CONVENT OF MOUNT CARMEL. 21
crest, carried heaUng and refreshment to the senses. There was
no disappointment, no discrepancy with preconceived expecta
tions ; the actual beauty of the site fully answered the most
poetical idea one could form of it.
In the meanwhile some of the party had entered the building,
and the servants had conveyed our baggage upstairs. The
Convent of Mount Carmel is a large and handsome edifice, neatly
constructed of white stone — a shining landmark to mariners
far out at sea. One or two venerable monks came out and
conducted us to the suite of rooms appropriated to our use,
and evidently enjoyed om- expressions of agreeable surprise.
There was nothing at aU monastic about them — none of that
fusty odour of sanctity, redolent of lamp oil and incense, that
pervaded the gloomy corridors and cheerless cells of the convent
at Acre, with their iron-barred windows and wooden pallets.
The rooms were spacious and well Ughted with glazed windows,
and the curtained beds were scrupulously white and spotless,
looking most irresistibly tempting to men whose ribs ached, and
whose skin was tatooed with the misery of their recent nightly
quarters.. The good monks raised our satisfaction to the highest
pitch by the production of an exceUent supper; and such was the
tide of mental exhilaration and the sense of bodily comfort, that
it became a question whether we had not better take up our
abode with them altogether until the country was reduced to a
state of tranquillity. That night we revelled in clean sheets,
and rose next morning Uke giants refreshed with sleep. The
land and sea were glorious, and we could have gazed untired
" the mom, the noon, the eve away," but for the go-a-head pro
pensities of certain of our number, who insisted forthwith on
" doing " the mountain, and then returning to Acre. Ac
cordingly, under the conduct of our monastic guides, we visited
a large apartment deeply cut into the rocky hill side, and
denominated "the School of the Prophets;" nor were we at aU
disposed to cavil at a tradition so apposite to the genius loci.

22 RETURN TO ACRE.
The solitudes of Mount Carmel, we know, were the favourite
haunt of Elijah and EHsha, and here occurred the striking scene
of the destruction of the prophets of Baal. Nothing has since
invaded the primitive wildness of the place except the soUtary
convent. It remains in a state of nature, and one may range
for hom-s about its thyme-covered summit, still haunted by the
wild boar and the eagle. There is something exceedingly grand
and elevating in the commanding isolation of a spot Unked with
so many and such interesting memories.
Before noon we took leave of our hosts, with whom we left a
Uttle offering towards the completion of their edifice, which, Uke
the other Terra Santa convents, is under the protection of
France. Putting our steeds to their mettle, in less than two
hours we regained Acre, and betook ourselves to our convent,
which seemed more dismal than ever by contrast with the un
wonted luxuries of Carmel. Myself and companion now hired
horses, and prepared for our departure to Beyrout on the fol
lowing morning, maugre the thousands of insurgents, who some
how seemed to keep themselves most carefully out of sight.
I had straggled about the interior of the ruined city, but had
not yet made the tour of the waUs. Accordingly, ascending to
the breastwork by a flight of steps, I traced its whole circuit
so far as the gaps and breaches would admit. Next the sea
they were but little injured, being protected by a reef of rock,
on which there is a constant surf, and which tended to keep
vessels at a respectful distance. On the land side, where there
is a deep ditch, the work of havoc had been most tremendous.
Few ramparts can boast of such associations as these. Extend
ing inland from the foot of these walls was the plain which had
trembled under the fiery onset of the Crusaders ; here Richard
of England had pitched his camp, and here, in later times,
Bonaparte had taken his stand to urge his columns into the city,
which, already reduced by the rules of war, stiU kept up a
desperate resistance fr-om day to day by the valorous efforts of

WALLS OF ACRE.

23

Sir Sidney Smith, until the Gallic invaders were forced to a
disastrous retreat. Upon this defence the fate of empires may
have turned, since, if Bonaparte could have obtained a footing
in Syria, the tide of his ambition might have flowed eastward
.instead of westward.
On the same spot Ibrahim Pasha had recently encamped,
during the siege which had left behind it such fearful traces ;
and on the plain which had so lately been trodden down by his
army, he was even now making preparation to introduce an

WALLS OP ACltJi.

improved system of agriculture, by the compulsory labour of the
peasantry, already oppressed by all sorts of exactions, and
demoralized by incessant warfare.
On further research among the ruins, we lighted on a large
building of the era of the Crusades, when within the narrow
circuit of the walls of Acre were crowded together the miUtary
orders and representatives of every Christian power ; when every
street had a feud with the next one ; every building was a
separate fortress, and immorality and corruption were at a
fearful height. It was from Acre that the Christian knights were
finally expelled, after a murderous slaughter of the Templars ;
the Hospitallers reti-eating to Cyprus, and thence shortly after

24 DEPARTURE FOE BEYROUT.
estabUshing themselves in Rhodes. The edifice we discovered
is supposed to have belonged to this order.
Early on the morrow my companion and myself took leave
of our friends, whom, unless we feU into the hands of the
PhiUstines, we expected to meet again at Beyrout, and salUed
forth into the open plain. Our cortege was iusignificant enough,
consisting of a single servant, four horses for ourselves and
baggage, and the mukharey, or groom, who had the animals in
charge. We took care to carry but just piastres enough to bear
our expenses for a few days, and were hardly worth the powdei
and shot of any wandering troop of marauders. So far from
meeting with any, the plaia seemed more than usuaUy soUtary.
Its fertile expanse lay half uncultivated, and a straggling peasant,
visible at wide intervals, only added to the oppressive solitariness
of the landscape. It is a sad consequence of oriental despotism,
that the rich and level tracts are comparatively neglected, while
the rugged mountains are carefully terraced and cultivated;
since, in the former, the greedy extortioner can so much more
easily pounce upon the unhappy peasant, and deprive him in an
instant of the fruits of a year's labour.
Leaving the plain, we ascended a steep road leading almost
close to the shore, and carried over the edge of a rugged pre
cipice, called, from its appearance, " Ras el Abiad," or the
" White Promontory ;" and here at nightfall we encamped in a
soUtary khan. By this time we had obtained ample evidence
of the falsity of the rumours which had somewhat disturbed us
at Acre. In fact, notwithstanding the presence of war in Judea,
such was the terror inspired by Ibrahim's arms, and such the
vigour with which his determination to make the roads secure
was carried out, that we soon came to feel the most entire
security, nor did we meet with one soUtary instance of annoy
ance in the part of Syria we traversed.
On the morrow, coming abruptly to the edge of the precipice,
at a point where it sunk down sheer some two hundred feet into

TYRE. 25
the sea, the territory of old Phcenicia spread out before us, — the
cradle of ancient commerce and navigation, and which has played
so important a part in the history of mankind. It is a narrow
strip of plain, rarely extending above a mile or two from the
shore, and backed by ranges of mountains piled tier upon tier to
the snow-covered crests of Lebanon. Jutting out at about three
miles off, was seen the desolate-looking island of Tyre, con
nected with the mainland by a broad causeway of sand; while
some broken Unes of aqueduct, and a Uttle hUl crowned with a
smaU mosque, are dotted about the adjacent plain ; far different
from the scene which must once have burst upon the spectator
from this height, when caravans converging from all parts of the
East unloaded their riches at the port, which was filled with
the thousand sails destined to waft them to the remotest coasts
of the known world. But it was not the time, nor was it the
place to moraUze on the spectacle of fallen grandeur before us,
our utmost attention being bestowed on the preservation of our
precious necks, as we stumbled and slid down one of the most
dangerous stone pathways in the world, gaining dizzy peeps
down upon the sea chafing among the " unnumbered idle peb
bles " at our feet. This road, said to have been made by
Alexander the Great, is no doubt as old as the city itself, and
bears the suitable appellation of " the Ladder of Tyre."
From the foot of this pass we galloped over the broad plain
towards the city, making a temporary halt at the extensive
cisterns caUed "Ras el Ain," works of very ancient date, and
conveniently attributed, like so many others in eastern lands, to
the potent agency of Solomon. The original city of Tyre stood
somewhere on the mainland, probably on the ground we had
passed over on the way from the " Ladder," and these cisterns
no doubt had some connexion with it. . At a short distance we
struck upon the broad sandy isthmus, which time and tempest
has heaped over the stone causeway made by Alexander when
he levelled the glory of Tyre in the dust, and hurled her towers

26 SIDON.
into the midst of the sea. At the end of the causeway is the
wall encircling the modern town ; the blood-red flag with the
white crescent hung idly from its staff, and a couple of sentinels,
in the costume of the Egyptian army, kept watch at the
unfrequented portal. Passing through this, we entered the
small mean town, which occupies an angle of the original site,
and made our way to the remains of the past. The sea broke
against a few ruinous fragments of walls, upon which, in literal
fulfilment of Ezekiel's prophecy, the fishermen had found " a
place for the spreading of nets," while one or two of their smaU
barks lay within at anchor. We took a boat and rowed out a
short distance to obtain a view of the island, which is of small
extent, and presents to sea-ward a rugged line of rocks. The
mouldering ruins of the cathedral, built in the middle ages, and
the few buildings of the modern town, thinly sprinkle over the
desolate site. In the distance towers the range of Lebanon, and
to the south of it, the isolated snow-crowned summit of Mount
Hermon. A boatful of fishermen were plying their occupation,
and one or two ships of smaU burden lay at anchor off the port, —
sole representatives of the ancient glories of this world-renowned
emporium. We slept that night at a khan near Tyre, and on the
following day pursued our way along the confined Phoenician
plain, toiUng through the deep sands, and over the rugged stony
horse-tracks ; and, passing over the site of Sarepta, where EUsha
restored the widow's son to Ufe, reached, about noon, the
luxuriant gardens that surround the modem Saida, and came to
a halt before entering the city gates.
It now became a question how best to dispose of ourselves for
the night, inasmuch as, besides the khans for the reception of
travellers, there was a CathoUc convent at Sidon, as well as
consuls both English and American, who, if we went to their
houses, would probably receive us with hospitaUty. These
agents are generally natives of some consideration, who serve

AMERICAN VANITY. 27
without pay, glad of the immunities and privileges attaching to
the office, and eager to show respect to travellers from the
countries they happen to represent.
My American companion, on whom I was now exclusively
dependent for society, was a very creditable sample of the sons
of the West ; but he possessed two of their pecuUar characteristics
in a preeminent degTce, that of going a-head, and that of bragging
as to the infinite superiority of everything transatlantic. The
objects we met with seemed a perpetual text-book to remind him
of something better at home. Especially did he delight in
comparing the new -n-ith the old country, to the infinite dispa
ragement of the latter. The American girls were the handsomest
in the world; the ponies beat all creation at a trotting match;
the houses in New York were far finer than those in London ;
even the pumpkin, or, as he would have it to be according to
Walker, pilnken pies of America were unequalled by any other
earthly delicacies attainable in England. Happily, if the
Americans sometimes exhibit the pardonable vanity of a young
people, nothing can exceed the indifference of John Bull as to
what people say or think of him. I Ustened, and sunk into
insignificance; and as my fellow-fraveller Jiad been long enough
in the East to grow a beard, allowed him to take precedence, and
make aU the necessary arrangements.
Now it so happened that he was in theory a devoted vege
tarian, and had strenuously urged upon myself the propriety of
abstinence from animal food during the journey, as a gross diet
breeding the most pernicious humours, altogether unsuitable to
the buming climate of Syria. To this I had agreed, and rice
with lebn, or curdled milk, and such bread as we could obtain at
the khans, had constituted our sole diet since leaving Acre. It
was suspicious for the stability of this self-denial, that my
American on this occasion was taken with a sudden desire to pay
a visit of respect to his consul, and was not disposed to proceed
at once to the convent, represented to us as a perfect House of

28 SCENE IN A CEMETERY.
Famine, but where at all events we determined to take up our
abode for the night. However, I said nothing, but promised to
meet him at the convent, after surveying the exterior of the city ;
whereupon he speedily dived through the gate and disappeared
with surprising alacrity.
The spot where we parted was an extensive cemetery inter
spersed with immense plane-trees, coming up to the city wall,
which is massive and strong, and joins on to a castle on a hUl,
erected by St. Louis in the time of the Crusades. In order to
obtain a better view of this building I made my way across the
turban-headed broken tombstones, and sat down in the shade not
far from a tent pitched in a sequestered spot, at a distance from
the road-side, apparently the temporary home of some wandering
traveller who, Uke myself, had chosen this place for the seclusion
and quiet it afforded. This impression was confirmed by seeing
the curtains of the tent softly opened, the gUmpse of a female
figure within, and a pair of braceleted arms put forth and waved
mysteriously to and fro, as I supposed, to wam the dog of a
Christian that he was thrusting his contaminating presence too
near to the privacy of a Moslem lady. FuUy expectuig that the
summons to depart, if disregarded, would be summarily enforced
by the cudgel of her indignant lord and master, I hastily retreated
to a more respectful distance, and averting my vagrant optics
from the forbidden precincts, fi.xed them with an intensity of
gaze upon the crenelated battlements of the gothic chateau of St.
Louis. On a casual divergence from this line of vision, which
I had maintained for some time with undeviating rectitude, I
perceived that the inmate of the tent seemed more disquieted than
ever, and the clapping of her hands continued with unabated
activity. I rose to depart to a still wider distance, when lo ! the
tent door suddenly opened, and the lady herse]i,—proh pudor / —
without the muslin sack and yellow buskins in which Turkish
women usually protect themselves from unhallowed eyes,
advanced straight through the tombstones to the very spot where

CATHOLIC CONVENT. 29
I was standing. In another moment she stood before me, in a
Syrian dishabille of so peculiar a nature that her character and
object could be no longer misunderstood. Looking towards the
tent, I then obsei-ved a man, the proprietor of this unfortunate
creatiu-e, intently watching the result of the manoeuvre. I waved
my hand with an expression of dissatisfaction, and the chUd,
for she was no more, retm-ned mechanically to the tent of her
heartless master, who no doubt lived upon the wages of her
shame. A strange incongruity, to pitch the tabernacle of guilty
enjoyment amidst the festering remains of mortality.
After this adventure I left the cemetery and found my way to
the CathoUc convent, the misery of which fully answered to the
accounts we had heard of it. A young Italian monk stepped
forward with an air of genuine cordiality, and welcomed me to
such accommodation as his poor home afforded. His mien and
countenance were strikingly noble, and he seemed a being far
superior to the generaUty of Terra Santa monks. There was
absolutely no refreshment of any kind in the convent, and in
rummaging my saddle-bags for some miserable fi-agments of
bread wherewith to stay the cravings of an appetite sharpened
by several hours' ride, a small pocket Bible fell out, which the
young monk seized with curiosity, and immediately made my
possession of this prohibited article the text of a warm discussion
in ItaUan upon the merits of our respective creeds. Famished as
I was, I felt my mental energies unequal to sustain the honour of
Protestantism with any chance of success, and was trying to beat
a retreat, when my companion suddenly entered with a radiant
expression of visage that cut me to the very quick. His cheeks
glowed and his eyes twinkled with such unusual satisfaction and,
lusfre, I felt sure that something peculiar had taken place. My
suspicions were aroused, and I eagerly demanded whether he had
not been guilty of a breach of that abstinence which he had so
rigidly imposed upon me. " What could I do ?" he replied, his
eyes fixed on the floor ; " after taking so much pains to welcome a

30 LADY HESTER STANHOPE.
Stranger, it would have been churUsh to refuse them the pleasure
of seeing me eat. I was obliged to break through my rule for
once ; but to-morrow we can begin again, and carry it out with
renewed strictness." It was evident he had been imitating the
practice of Dugald Dalgetty, and laying in a stock oi provant
when the chance turned up, sufficient to bear up against a week's
starvation. The great object of my friend was now to go up into the
mountain, above Sidon, to pay a visit to Lady Hester Stanhope,
and I was perforce compelled to accompany him.
Everybody knows that Lady Hester Stanhope was for many
years as great a "lion" to Syrian travellers as the Holy Sepulchre
or the Temple of Baalbec, and that no book of the many that
were annuaUy published was deemed complete without a peep
within the walls of Djouni, and some fresh details about the
strange and eccenteic life of its possessor. Those who were
fortunate enough to be admitted to a brief interview often came
away with hasty impressions, which when wrought up for effect
gave but a distorted view of the original. Others, who were
imsuccessful in their object, avenged themselves, naturally
enough, by takiug the most unfavourable view of her character ;
and thus the idea most generaUy formed of Lady Hester
Stanhope was that of a half-crazy misanthrope, who, disappointed
in her pursuit of power at home, brooded over her imaginary
¦VPTongs in this wild solitude, till, her mind becoming unhinged,
she with malicious pleasure loved to refuse to her own country
men that hospitality she so profusely extended to aU besides.
With this persuasion, unfurnished besides with any credentials,
and absorbed in the splendid and novel scenes of which, with all
their associations, every day of Syrian travels furnishes a new
stock, it may be supposed that an humble artist could not have
the least idea of intruding upon the seclusion of the lady of
Djouni. In fact, nothing was further from his thoughts, and
even his wishes ; but chance, in spite of hiijiself, brought about

LADY HESTER STANHOPE. 31
what aU the contrivances of others had so often failed to
effect. My friend had provided himself with a letter of introduction,
and was in a state of the highest exultation — greater, probably,
than on any other occasion dm-ing his tour ; and, as we toiled up
wild hill after hill, looked out impatiently for the lone abode of
the mysterious lady. In fact, it was high time, for his reception
was yet uncertain, and we might still have to seek some other
shelter for the night : it was therefore -with great satisfaction that
from a sudden rise we caught sight of the white walls of Djouni,
on the crest of a steep hill, in the midst of a wilderness of
rugged ravines and impracticable looking crags, crowned with
the snows of Central Lebanon, which glowed with the last rays
of sunset. Here we determined to await the answer to my
friend's missive, despatched by his servant, before making a
nearer approach to the waUs, from whence after all we might
have to make an inglorious retreat.
I say we, because, although I myself had sent neither a card
nor message, yet was I not without a lurking hope that I might
obtain, under cover of my companion, though not a sight of her
ladyship, at least, what I more valued at the time, a supper
and the shelter of her roof The truth is, I had slept the night
before on the ground, in a miserable khan, and was both fatigued
and famished ; it was getting quite dusk, the neighbourhood was
wild and insecure, the mukharey did not know the mountain,
and there was a bitter cold wind sweeping over the heights of
Lebanon, sharpening the painful sense of my interior vacuum, and
giving zest to the anticipation of a soft couch and savoury fare.
This blessed anticipation was dispelled by the return of the
servant, who after long delay came back at a gallop. " Her
ladyship," he said, " had made especial and pointed inquiry if
his master were really an American ; as such she should consent
to receive him, but not if he were an Englishman in disguise."
My Yankee friend was in raptures, while I was indignant at

32 MOUNT LEBANON.
this sfrange and unfeeUng caprice, this degrading preference of
a transatlantic tuft-hunter ; so, after hastily arranging to keep a
look-out for the favoured individual in order to meet him on the
foUowing day, I turned aside in dudgeon to find some other
shelter for the night.
My wrath, when I found myself alone, with bed and board to
seek, was extreme, but it was nothing to that of the mukharey,
who gave way to the most furious imprecations upon a degree of
inhospitaUty unknown among Arab hinds. We were reaUy at
a loss, — the paths among these precipitous mountains, by day all
but impracticable, are actually perilous on a dark night ; we had
only the lights of scattered dwelUngs to guide us, and, in attempt
ing to make for the nearest group of them, were descending almost
headlong into a ravine, where we were soon brought up among
tangled rocks and bushes. I urged the mukharey forward : he
became furious, and pointing to the lights above us, significantly
drew his finger from ear to ear ; but whether to intimate that he
intended to cut my throat, as being the cause of his froubles, or
that we were both in risk of such a treatment at the hands of
some fancied robbers, I could never discover. With much
difficulty we scrambled up again, and feeling our away along the
more level ground, came at length to a small village, welcomed
by the clamorous onset of a pack of Syrian cm-s.
We stopped at a cottage ; the wrathful mukharey explained
our treatment and our troubles, at which the peasant significantly
smiled. They did not invite us to enter, but spread our carpet
for the night on a raised platform of hardened plaster, beneath a
wide-branching mulberry-free, and soon after, a fine comely gfrl,
in the beautiful costume of Lebanon, with bracelets around her
arms and ankles, brought forth a large bowl of milk and a Uttle
Syrian bread, which appeased our hunger, and restored our
exhausted frames : after this, wrapped in cloaks and coverlets,
we lay down Uke Sancho among the saddle gear, and slept
soundly.

LADY HESTER STANHOPE. 33
I awoke quite chilled with the keen air of the mountain, and
with anything but a pleasant feeling- towards the mistress of
Djouni, the walls of which inhospitable abode I now perceived
to be divided from om- noctm-nal bivouac by an almost impassable
ravine. Before noon I saw the fortunate Yankee issue fi-om the
portal, with a led horse and some servants, upon which the
mukharey saddled my steed, and we joined him at the bottom of
the vaUey.
His manner was provokingly triumphant and patronising, —
"My dear fellow, you are to come to Djouni, — I explained it
all ; her ladyship was so sorry that you should have gone to
that viUage, and would have sent for you last night, but that
the path was dangerous, (from which I gathered that intelligence
of my movements had been conveyed to Djouni,) and now, after
visiting some convents to which she has given me a guide, it is
her wish that I should bring you to see her."
There was much within me that rebelled against this sort of
invitation, but my bones were sore, and my spirit humbled ; I
had no wish to sleep a second night on the peasant's dais ;
moreover, the whole thing struck me as so ridiculous, that it
was unworthy of any feeling of serious resentment. I therefore
gulped down my remaining chagrin, resigned my miserable hack
to the mukharey, and mounted instead the caparisoned steed
appointed for me.
I shall not give any further details of the ride than to observe
that we visited a large convent, and also a nunnery, in somewhat
suspicious proximity, and on presenting ourselves at the latter,
where as we approached we could see the sisterhood peeping at
us from the lattices, we were received, not as we had expected,
by a lady abbess, but by a goodly personage of the opposite
sex, who seemed to have the spiritual direction of the fair
recluses. About three o'clock we reached the walls of Djouni,
and were at once ushered into the presence. The building, or
rather maze of buildings, enclosed within the old convent, — for
D

34 LADY HESTER STANHOPE.
such had been the original destination of Djouni, — were for the
most part erected by Lady Hester for the reception of those
whom she imagined would, at the great epoch of frouble that
would precede the coming of the Murdah, repair to her for protec
tion ; and were so cunningly devised and intricate, as to create
a feeling of mystery in the minds of sfrangers. Through these
we were conducted to her reception room, — sunk in a subdued
shadow, befitting the grave and imposiug appearance of the
robed and turbaned sibyl who professed to read in the stars the
destinies of nations and of individuals. She certainly possessed
. — partly, no doubt, from nature, but principaUy from long and
penetrating habits of observation — an almost preternatural power
of divining the characteristics of those subjected to her gaze,
especially those least obvious to the common observer, but of
which the conscience of the startled delinquent secretly re
cognised the truth. No one, fi-om prince to peasant, escaped
the keenness of her scrutiny, and without respect of persons,
his good and bad marks were instantly scanned, his star revealed,
and the decisive and frrevocable judgment pronounced upon him.
" It was this comprehensive and searching faculty, this intuitive
penefration," says her biographer, " which rendered her so for
midable ; for, under imaginary names, when she wished to show
a person that his character and course of life were unmasked to
her view, she would in his very presence paint him such a
picture of himself, in drawing the portrait of another, that you
might see the individual writhing on his chafr, unable to conceal
the effect her words had on his conscience."
My American friend, who, to do him justice, was reaUy a
handsome fellow, had met with her imqualified approval. Her
decision on my character and fate now came, and it must be
confessed that, after all, it sounded very much like vulgar
palmistry. Born under a good star, a fortunate career was
promised ; and amidst the cares and troubles of life it is con-
soUng to think, that one's future advancement rests upon the

LADY HESTER STANHOPE. 35
secure and satisfactory basis of astrological prediction. Such
good things were not, however, bestowed without the accom
paniment of some humiUating but truthful disclosures, of which
she playfully declared "she could let out more if she would."
Satisfied apparently by her scratiny that my star was neither
hostile nor maUgnant, she led the way into her garden, struck
with the beauty of which, the fresh green of its tm-f and aUeys,
kept, especially for so sultry a climate, in the nicest order, I
could not help remarking that it reminded me of England.
This remark, though it might afford a secret pleasure, was by
no means graciously received. " Don't say so," she exclaimed ;
"I detest everything EngUsh;" yet the semblance of this
feeUng with which she was so often reproached, was no doubt
but the affected hatred expressed by many when disappointed
in gaining an object secretly beloved. For Lady Stanhope was
fond of recaUing her EngUsh life, and if we are to credit her
biographer, it was the want of a provision suitable for her rank
.and pretensions that first drove her from her native land, while
her experience of the hoUowness of the great, and the forgetful
ness or perfidy of friends, with an exaggerated estimate of what
was due to her who had once played so conspicuous a part,
contributed to add disgust to disappointment.
Her appearance struck me as remarkably majestic: her tall
and stately figure was robed loosely in a simple Arab dress, a
turban of mystic and indefinite outline overshadowing her high,
pale, Roman features, which, if they were not classically correct,
had a nobleness of contour and an expression of mingled dignity
and sweetness. She seemed fitted at once to awe and fascinate
those around her. She bore a strong resemblance to the great
Lord Chatham : this instantly occurred to me, when, some years
after seeing her, I was turning over a volume of portraits, and
lighted suddenly upon that of the above-named statesman ; and
on reading her memoirs, I was gratified to discover that this was
also the opinion of her friends and biographer.
d2

36 L-VDY HESTER STANHOPE.
A black slave now summoned us to dinner, which was pre
pared for us in a comfortable paviUon, her ladyship always
dining alone. The dinner was truly excellent, setting aside the
additional relish given to it by a fortnight's penance upon bread
and eggs. We were especially grateful for an inimita,ble apricot
tart, in which my last fingering bittemess was bm-ied, and which
my Yankee friend with enthusiasm declared might vie even with
the " punken " pies of his own country. We little thought at
the time that its composition, as well as our other comforts,
might have been presided over by the priestess who had just
revealed our characters and destinies; for the restless spirit of
Lady Stanhope was accustomed to allow nothing to pass without
her superintendence, from the fate of nations to the garnishing
a dish of vegetables ; and besides, she could not bear to see her
guests neglected — although she often decUned to see a -visitor,
from her utter inabiUty to receive him as she wished. These
difficulties are revealed in a most amusing manner by her
biographer. " Now, doctor," she would say, " what can be got
for their dejeuner a la fourchette? for there is nothing whatever
in the house. Ah ! yes, there is a stew of yesterday, that I did
not touch — that may be warmed up again, and some potatoes
may be added; and then you must taste that wine that came
yesterday from Garyfy, to see if you think they -wiU Uke ft.
The spinach my maid must do ; " (and, by the way, we om-selves
had some for dinner ;) " Dyk (the cook) does not know how to
dr(?ss spinach, but I have taught ZezefQon, to do it very well.
(Ding, ding, ding.) Zezef6on, you Imow how to boil spmach in
milk, and you must garnish it with five eggs, one in each corner,
and one in the centre." " Yes, Sytty," (my lady.) " And,
Zezef6on, send the yaclmay (stew) to Dyk, and let it be wanned
up for the strangers. They must have some of my butter and
some of my bread. Likewise give out the sUver spoons and
knives and forks ; they are under that cushion on the ottoman
there: and mind you count them when you give them to

LADY HESTER STANHOPE. 37
Mohammed, or they will steal one, and dispute with you after
wards about the number — a pack of thieves." Such precautions
may seem unworthy of a grande dame, but they were highly
necessary: in fact, her servants were literally what she called
them, and plundered her of her very wardrobe; and her un
comfortable, and often destitute state, has been known to affect
her visitors even to tears.
In the afternoon we were again called, and, as it proved,
to a sitting of several hours, during which the conversation,
wherein her ladyship bore the principal part, never flagged but
while our pipes were being lighted afresh. It is common enough
in the East for ladies to smoke, but the mistress of Djouni would
indulge for hours, nourishing thus the dreamy and imaginative
mood in which she loved both to recall the scenes of her earlier
life, and then, by a sudden transition, to expatiate in wild and
mystic visions of futurity. This double and curiously contrasted
tendency it was that preeminently characterised her conversation,
and gave it so singular a charm. Few, if any, indeed, of her
sex, had in modern times been more conspicuous in the great
world : the niece, confidant, and even counseUor of Pitt, and at
the head of his estabhshment, she was profoundly acquainted
with the poUtical as weU as fashionable life of her time, and
being gifted with more than masculine vigour and penetration,
and endowed with astonishing fluency and vivacity of expression,
her anecdotes of state intrigue or private scandal, her racy and
graphic delineation of individual characters, her play of witty
remark, of light and lively satire, mingled with traits of grave
and sometimes pathetic recollections of long bygone incidents,
were, especially to persons who had lived in so totally different a
sphere, life-like and amusing as the finest comedy, and not the
less so, that her opinions mingled largely with her naiTations. It
was easy to perceive that all her predilections were aristocratic —
race with her was everything ; but this was, after all, far less the
vulgar prejudice of mere high birth and fortune, regardless of

38 LADY HESTER STANHOPE.
correspondent elevation of qualities, than a feeling that these
qualities depended upon purity of blood, and that it was utterly
in vain to attempt making, as it is said, " a silken purse out of a
sow's ear." " God created," she would say, " certain races from
the beginning ; and although the breed may be crossed, and the
cart-horse be taken out of the cart, and put to the saddle, their
foals will always show their good or bad blood. The good or bad
race must peep out ; high descent will always show itself." Yet
here her notions were somewhat inconsistent, for elsewhere she
declares that " by low born she does not mean poor people ; for
there are many without a sixpence who have high sentiments ; "
and " although she was constantly drawing a Une between the
high and low born, good qualities in the most menial person bore
as high an estimate in her mind as if she had discovered them in
princes." Like many of those who exclaim the loudest for the main
tenance of despotic rule, she was herself the last to brook the
idea of a superior power ; she preferred keeping up, among the
solitudes of Lebanon, the empty image of • supremacy, to being-
less than she was once at home ; and this feeling, which, with
reduced means, led to her expatriation, nourished by solitude,
and unchecked by opposition, became at length the ruUng
principle of lier character. Even the shackles of " principle "
were unsupportable and not to be mentioned, as she said, " to a
Pitt," who could not act otherwise than royally by her own
proper impulse, without being bound by the laws intended only
for the restraint of meaner souls. In keeping with this, she was
generous and princely, but arbitrary and exacting: she would
exercise a ruling foresight over the well-being of all around her —
would attend with her own hand to their necessities ; but then,
she must be the arbitress of their most petty concerns, and woe
to the recusant who stood upon his independence ! a network of
espionnage was cast around him, and he would find himself in the
meshes of an almost supernatural watchfulness and omnipotence

BEYROUT. 39
of petty tyranny. Such are the painful inconsistencies of
powerful but ill-regulated minds. But even this stern-spirited
woman, if she could not walk humbly with her God, nor recognise
the superiority of man, was not without her " hero worship."
Pitt was her idol, and the ingTatitude supposed to be evinced in
his treatment and in her own, and felt more on Ms account than
on her own, was the theme on which she, at least, never wearied,
whatever might be the sensations of her visitor.
In the evening of the same day we reached Beyrout, the
ancient Berytus, now the principal sea-port on the coast of Syria,
and the head-quarters of missionary operations. The situation is
splendid, at the foot of the snow-crowned Lebanon, and sur-
roimded by the most luxuriant vegetation. But the air, affected
by the quantity of sand in the neighbom-hood, is hot and
relaxing, and in summer almost insupportable, while the town is
pestiferous and fetid. We found refuge for the night in a small
inn, where we were almost suffocated.
Next day we visited the British Consul, Mr. Abbott, and also
some of the American Missionaries, who inhabit handsome
country houses at a short distance from the walls, and where,
during our sojom-n, we generally spent the day, returning at
night to our horrible prison in the town.
Beyrout is the port of Damascus, from which city it is but two
days' journey across the mountains ; but as it was om- wish to
visit the Cedars of Lebanon, and the Temple of Baalbec, we were
compeUed to take the more circuitous road by Tripoli.
Our route lay along the sea-shore, at the foot of Lebanon,
and proved, upon the whole, rather tedious ; the only remarkable
object on the way being the sculptures at the Nahr el Kelb, or
Dog-river, a short distance from Beyrout. There, are to be seen
tablets cut in the face of the rock, commemorating the passage
of Rameses the Great on one of his warlike expeditions, and
a.lso that of some Assyrian conqueror, in his career, perhaps,
towards Egj'pt.

40 LEBANON.
On leaving Tripoli and its noble Gothic chateau, we set our
faces towards the steeps of Lebanon, which we had hitherto
only skirted, but were now to cross, in order to reach Baalbec
and Damascus. The whole road, or rather horse-frack, was a
succession of pictures. At first, it passed over tbe rich plain,
extending from the sea to the foot of the mountains, — the seat of
the most exuberant productiveness : sometimes diving into the
luxurious and perfumed verdure of an orange-grove, with its
thousands of glowing fruit ; or passing through a field of the
tall rustling sugar-canes ; or through the grey, refreshing shadows
of an olive wood ; or a more open plantation of mulberry, inter
mingled with traUing vines ; or over an open, sunny sfretch of
waving corn.
On reaching the foot of the mountains, the frack becomes
narrower and more difficult, and thickets of dwarf round-
topped pine and umbrageous carob dot the hill-side, which,
wherever the abruptness of the gTound requires it, is built up
into terraces, and planted with mulberry-trees, for the silkworms,
which constitute the principal wealth of Lebanon. We still con
tinued to clamber, height after height, tiU when half-way over the
mighty range, we paused to gaze upon the extraordinary scene
around us. Our halt was on the edge of one of those fr-emendous
ravines which, commencing among the topmost peaks of the
snow-tipped range, rising overhead Uke a waU ten thousand feet
up in the sky, gradually descend, by many windings, through
the heart of the mountain, and open gradually as they sink lower
and lower, till they debouch into the plain at its feet. In their
lowest depths, and hung dizzily upon their sides, among Uttle
patches of corn and mulben-y, appeared innumerable villages of
white flat-roofed houses. We could trace paths from one to
another, among the terraces into which the sides of the mountain
were laboriously cut, and could detect here and there, in more
sequestered nooks, or see proudly perched upon some command
ing eminence, the white walls of the numerous convents with

LEBANON. 41
which it is everywhere studded. Far below these solitary abodes
reposed the luxm-ious plain, gemmed with its numerous villages,
and extending to the margin of the sea, which spread out west
ward till lost in empm-pled haze. As we stood and listened, we
could just faintly hear the roaring of the Kadesha, or Holy
River, as it made its noisy way from the solitudes of the Cedars,
past the viUage of Besherrai, at the foot of the precipice on which
stands the convent of Canobin, the residence of the Greek
Patriarch. In another gloomy cleft of the rocks appeared a soU
tary convent, that of St. Antonio, to which we now ascended by
a i-ugged and dangerous pathway, upon the edge of unfathomable
chasms. After resting for a short time at this sequestered spot,
we stUl continued our ascent, and at sunset reached the village
of Eden, one of the highest up the mountain, and within a short
distance of its topmost crest. In one day's ride we had passed
through every variety of cUmate, — first, the sultry enervating
heat of the plain, then the temperate zone of the midway range,
until now, at even, we were fairly shivering in the alpme eleva
tion we had reached.
We lodged that night in the house of the Sheik of Eden, who
treated us with the utmost hospitality; and at an early hour pur
sued our way towards Baalbec. It was but very recently that
aU this part of the mountain had been cleared, by the fervent
heats of the summer, from the snow that buries it in the winter
and spring ; and large patches of ft stiU glittered on the topmost
crest, which rose but a short distance on the left, cutting into
a sky of intensest and most lusfaous blue ; while the afr was
instinct with a keenness and purity perfectly indescribable. On
a swelUng mound at the foot of a bare green slope, tipped with
snow, appeared a dark spot of verdure which, as we neared it,
displayed the straight tmnks and broad spreading branches of
the famous grove of cedars, — the first we had hitherto seen, upon
the mountain, which has given its distmctive appeUation to this
most majestic of trees. Dm-ing the winter they are buried in

42 LEBANON.
snow, and even in spring are often inaccessible, from the deep
drifts which accumulate in a hollow way that leads up to them.
This was now clear, and, striking into it, our horses' hoofs
feU noiselessly upon a carpet of turf; large cedars growing out
of the sides overshadowed us as we passed, and, cUmbing the
ascent under a thickening canopy of boughs, we dismounted in
the cenfre of the grove, at the foot of those venerable patriarchs
of the forest, which date, according to fradition, from the days of
Solomon. This famous cedar grove consists of a few trees, obviously of
very great antiquity, and a host of young and flourishing off
spring around them, that increase in size and "vigour as theft
aged parents sink into ruin beneath the weight of years. From
a comparison of the "dsits Qf former teavellers, the number of the
old cedars has been gradually decreasing, and very few of them
are now left. Their enormous girth — theft wUdly-spreading
branches, white -with the ghastliness of extreme age — ^the dispro
portionate hugeness of their stems, and the scantiness of the
foUage that crowns them — show that theft vigour is decayed,
theft sap dried up, and that theft huge and almost Ufeless limbs
are ready to fall upon the turf beneath.
Ten minutes fi-om the cedar grove brought us to the top of
the pass which crosses the highest range of Lebanon ; and we
immediately began to descend the opposite slope, by a path of
fearful abruptness, into the broad plain of Ccele-Syria, — running
between the ranges of Lebanon and the parallel but inferior one
of Anti-Lebanon. At the further extremity of this plain
appeared the temples of Baalbec, at this distance seeming merely
a confused mass of stone-work glittering in the sun. We had
Ungered so long upon the way, that darkness overtook us before
we could cross the plain, and not a single habitation could we
discover, or even an eUgible tree under which to estabUsh our
bivouac; and it was not until after much research that our
servants found out a cavern, in which we sought shelter from the

BAALBEC. 43
unwholesome vapours which, nevertheless, laid the seeds of
subsequent illness.
I arose in the morning evidently unwell, and, in spite of the
burning sun, which smote upon us as we crossed the plain, felt
the chill and creeping sensation which heralds an attack of fever.
Excited to the highest by the prospect before us, we pushed on
eagerly for Baalbec, which at every mile assumed a more distinct
appearance ; and, as we approached, presented an aspect of
astonishing grandeur. Over a huge wall, rising above the level
of the plain, and composed of stones surpassing in dimensions
anything we had yet seen, uprose the light and elegant forms
of the ruined temples, surrounded by a wilderness of other con-
sti'uetions, of different ages and in different styles. Six lofty
columns, of peculiar elegance, crowned with a gorgeous entabla-
tm-e, rose supreme amidst the general desolation, — so beautiful,
that from whatever point, and under whatever circumstances
they are ^-iewed — whether the sun shines fuU upon the delicate
chiselUng of their white marble shafts, or whether they range
themselves in shadow, spirit-Uke, against the glow of the twilight
sky, impress the beholder with a mingled feeling of admiration
and melancholy. But it is not my object to portray these
temples, already so often described. Suffice it to say, that, after
spending the whole day in examining them, we hastened, as the
sun went down, in quest of a brother traveller, to whom we had
a letter of introduction, and who was encamped, as we understood,
at a spot called Ras el Ain, about a mile distant from the temples,
and at the head of the stream whicli here murmured along one
side of the wall, among heaps of -prostrate columns and broken
masonry, that had fallen from the building above.
Following the course of this stream, we arrived, in about ten
minutes, at its source, — seemingly, a small oval pool, bordered
with grass and sedge. A large tree bent over it, and the ruined
arches of a Christian church stood round about its borders. At
a short distance from these were pitched two large tents, which

44 BAALBEC.
had a most inviting look of snugness and comfort. Lights were
seen within, horses were picketed on one side, and the evening
watch-fire gleamed upon the faces of the Arab attendants. We
dashed through the rippling steeam, and, dismounting, were
ushered into one of the tents, occupied by Mr. Catherwood, the
gentleman to whom our letter was addressed. He received us with
heartfelt cordiality; and thus, in that evening, under the roof of
a Syrian tent, commenced an intimacy which has been renewed
in many lands, and will, I trust, only terminate with life.
That night we passed in the encampment of our hospitable
friends. After I arose on the morrow, the fever with which I had
been sti-uggUng completely mastered me ; and as the proximity
of the water was deemed injurious, I shifted my quarters, by
Mr. Catherwood's advice, to the dry and elevated plateau of the
temple itself. Adjacent to its northern portal is a massive castle
of Arabian architecture, long since abandoned to the owls and
bats. On entering its deeply hollowed portal, a broken staftease,
with fissm-es opening into the gloomy vaults beneath, ascended
to a large chamber, with waUs of immense solidity, perforated
by slender lancet windows. The floor was, like the staftease,
fuU of yawning holes, and covered "with the dust of many centu
ries. This was partly swept away, and my mattiug and carpet
were arranged on the stone floor, upon which I laid do"wn, with
that horrible shudder in the Umbs that ushers in an attack of
intermittent fever. To this shortly succeeded a heat altogether
as "violent, and the fit terminated by a copious perspiration, which
left the frame in a state of extreme depression. With these
violent attacks of ague, which succeeded each other continually,
were compUcated evident symptoms of cerebral disease ; my mind
began to wander, and the most gloomy imaginings chased each
other through my perturbed fancy. Thus passed the first day
and night in this gloomy abode.
My "uneasiness was greatly aggi-avated by the cowardice of my
servant, who had, much against his inclination, been obUged to

BAALBEC. 45
abandon the encampment, and follow me alone into this soUtary
ruin. His mind was tortured with real and imaginary dangers ;
first, lest we should be robbed and mm-dered by some assassins,
who might easily conceal themselves among the neighbouring
vaults ; and, secondly, lest we should be disturbed by the Efrits,
or Genu, which, according to Easter© belief, invariably choose
such sites as their congenial dwelling-place. Accordingly, no
sooner did the morning dawn, than he repaired to the encamp
ment, and made out so lamentable a story, that Mr. B  i, who
accompanied Mr. Catherwood, resolved to leave his comfortable
tent, and come do"mi and pass the night with us at the castie.
Scarcely had he returned with this consoling intelligence, than
I heard an unwonted noise of many footsteps at the extremity of
the passage, and my fr-iends of the night before entered, accom
panied by a young English medical man, who had come from
Damascus, to accompany a wealthy Turkish invalid. Finding
me seriously ill, he proceeded to shave my head, and administer
other remedies, which probably checked what would otherwise
have proved a fatal attack.
Thus passed several days, which seemed interminably long,
in a state of great mental and bodily prostration, deepened by
the horrible solitiide of the place. When the last red rays of
the setting sun shot upward through the slender -window on the
cefting, and the bats rising from the vaults below began to flit
through the chamber, I used to hear the cheering cry of my
friend B  i echoing through the winding passage, and the
tramp and bound of his footsteps, and the clang of his sabre
against the waU, as he sprang hastily up the broken staftease.
And never did a sick child thrill more at his mother's voice than
I, at the hearty, "Well, how are you, old fellow?" which issued
from his lips as he bm-st into the dreary apartment. Then the
lamps were lighted, the pistols primed, Antonio planted on his
matfrass across the enfrance, and everything made snug in case
of attack.

46 ANTI-LIBANUS.
At last I got well enough to crawl out of the fortress, when
taking my post in its shadow, I would pore for hours upon the
magnificent temple which rose directly in front, watching the
huge brown lizards emerging from its chinks and crannies to
sun themselves upon the hot stones ; or marking the sinuous teack
of some glittering snake, ^as it wound its stealthy way among
rich fragments of chiselled entablatures scattered around. By
degrees I got about, and after a full exploration of the place, at
last once more mounted my horse, and one morning before
daylight wended my way alone towards Damascus. I was the
last tenant of the Temple. My American companion had
afteady started for that city ; my friends had struck their tents
and gone elsewhere, and I was glad to tum my back upon the
scene of so much suffering.
From the ascent of the Anti-Libanus I took my last view of
Baalbec, and tracing its narrow valleys, approached at evening
the "dllage of Zebdan^, where we were hospitably received by
the patriarchal sheik. . Next day we followed the windings of
a stream, which from its source in the highest parts of the
mountains flowed do"wnward to the plain of Damascus. The
heights overhanging it were bare and white, and gUttering
painfully in the deep blue sky; but the verdure below was
refreshing and luxuriant. Soon after noon, when the sun was
still near its zenith, and the white parched soil dazzled the eye
and scorched the face "with reflected heat, the road, lea"fing the
com-se of the valley, sfruck up the side of a bare hill, the
topmost peak of which was crowned with a smaU kiosk. As we
ascended, we heard the tinkling of beUs, and the leading files of
a large caravan came toiling over the top of the pass in the
opposite direction. Beyond, sti-etching away into the haze of
distance, as far as the eye could reach, was the immense plain of
Damascus, a perfect sea of verdure, in the cenfre of which,
marked by a line of white minarets, winding for some two miles
long, and relieving most brilUantly from the intense green.

'7'

DAMASCUS. 47
appeared that great city itself, -with its immense suburbs. In
the foUage around it only one opening could be discerned, this
was a sfreak of velvet meadows, through which meandered the
river Barrada, the same we had been all day following, in its
com-se towards the city, where its waters are drawn off and
distributed among the endless channels and water courses, which
circulate, like silver veins, among the gardens, to maintain their
perpetual fr-eshness. Such as Damascus is at the present day, it
was ages and ages ago. Since its foundation every empire of
antiquity has fallen, and every great city been buried in the
dust; the Syi-ian capital alone survives the wi-eck of time,
¦without a "Wrinkle on its brow, flourishing and populous, and
invested "with etemal youth. Its position being indefensible, it
has changed masters indeed, but only for a while; and, as
Lamartine says, "is stamped upon the world's map, by the
finger of Pro"ridence, as the site of a great city." At the foot
of cenfral Lebanon, on the edge of the great desert, midway
between northern and southern Syria, and only two days'
journey from the sea, aU the commerce of western Asia con
verges to it as a natural centre. Such was the great city which
now expanded before us at the distance of a couple of miles, and
which Mahomet, taking his stand under the kiosk above our heads,
declared to be the earthly paradise of the true believers.
To enter it, however, some little precaution was requisite.
Its Moslem inhabitants, after those of Mecca, have ever been
reputed the most intolerant in aU the Turkish empire,- — a feeling
which the annual passage of the great caravan had greatly
conteibuted to maintain. Accordingly, fravellers had hitherto
been compelled to put on the most rigorous disguise in venturing
within its walls ; a precaution which even Lamartine, who had
very recently visited the city, thought it no more than prudent
to adopt. Of all places in Syria, as we know, Damascus had
submitted with the greatest reluctance to the conquering arms
of Ibrahim Pasha; and although by an overwhelming display of

48 ASAAD EL KAYAT.
force he had succeeded in establishing his new system, by which
the Moslems were no longer permitted to tyi-annise over the
Christians, yet it was with reason feared, that in the first
reverse that might overtake his army, the former would imme
diately rise and throw off his yoke, avenging upon the Frank
strangers as weU as thc native Christians (who, it must be
confessed, imder their recent emancipation had behaved "with
great imprudence) the indignities, as they deemed them, to which
force alone had compeUed them to submit. Since leaving Jaffa,
our accounts of Ibrahim's proceedings had been fluctuating and
uncertain, and by many he was reported to have suffered severe
loss. It was not, therefore, "without some uneasuiess that
I prepared to enter the city, especially being invested in the
obnoxious coat and pantaloons.
I had a letter of introduction to an EngUsh merchant, which
had been given me by one of the American Missionaries at
Beyrout, and only that one ; but I was aware that Mr. Farren,
the British Consul General for Syria, had been recently appointed,
and at once determined to caU upon him, and leam what was the
state of the country ; whether the war was over, and the road
to Jerusalem at length safe. As we approached the northern
suburb, called Salahiyeh, my dragoman ascertained from a pas
senger that the consul had a country house there, where he was
at that time residing, and that the house of the merchant was
only just across the road. A few moments brought us to the
gate of the consul's house. A fine young Syrian, of sfriking
personal beauty, set off by a very elegant dress, was at that
moment standing at the portal, and immediately led the way to
the interior of the country house. This handsome personage,
who then officiated as the secretary to the consulate, was the
same Asaad el Kayat who has since been so much Uonized
among the ladies in England, and, after studying "with a view of
introducing the art of heaUng among his neglected countrymen,
has recently been appointed our "vice-consul at Jaffa.

STATE OF SYRL\. 49
Nothing could possibly be kinder than the reception given me
by Mr. Farren. He corroborated the information as to the
proximity ofthe house of Mr. T  , the merchant, who would
no doubt give me a room ; but as that gentleman, it appeared,
always dined in the city, he pressed me to occupy a seat at his
own table dm-ing my stay.
Om- conversation immediately turned upon the state of the
country, especially as regarded my own prospects of returning
to the Holy City ; and I soon found it was at that time both
pecuUar and critical. Dm-ing the Turkish sway, the adminis
tration had gi-adually become exceedingly lax and corrupt ; the
pashas, and other officials, usually obtaining their posts by
bribery, and indemnifying themselves by peculation and pillage.
Thus, although the taxes paid to the Porte were nominally low,
the people reaUy groaned under extortion. The Christians and
Jews were oppressed, the country was di"vdded by feuds and
factions ; population declining, the roads were often unsafe, and
traveUers Uable to insult and robbery. At Damascus, so rife was
the bigofry of the people, that no recognised European agent
had ever been allowed to establish himself within its walls.
Such was the condition of Syi-ia when Ibrahim Pasha rapidly
overran it, and simultaneously with his conquests introduced
a totaUy opposite system of government. Liberalism, as well
as policy, had induced him to abolish all distinctions between
the Moslems and Christians ; local feuds were put down by the
sti-ong arm ; robbers disappeared from the roads ; and travellers
were not only able to go about unmolested, but were received
"with distinction by the agents of government. The expenses of
the pasha's administration were enormous, the taxes were raised,
and although the govemment agents were no longer allowed to
extort money on their 0"wm account, yet, not content with this
heavy taxation, it was not long before Mehemet Ali, in order to
fill his coffers, gradually began in Syria the same iniquitous
and crushing system of monopoly that he had already carried
E

50 DISCONTENT AT DAMASCUS.
out in Egypt. Even the improvements in agriculture that he
introduced among, or, to speak more correctly, enforced upon,
a reluctant peasanfry, were only intended to minister to his
o"wn aggi-andisement.
At Damascus, a profound discontent was kno"wn to be fer
menting among the people, which was only restrained by the
vigour of the administration and the formidable force then "within
the city. Let but Ibrahim sustain a defeat, and it was certain
that nothing could prevent a rising. The European residents,
who had recently ventured to establish themselves, felt as if
upon a volcano that might explode at any moment. The consul
had a house in the city, but never ventm-ed to sleep there ; and
horses were always kept in readiness for escape to the mountains
in case of need.
With regard to the war then raging in the hills of Judea,
nothing certain was kno"wn, except that, though in the main
triumphant, the pasha had sustained severe reverses ; some of his
regiments, it was said, being entirely cut off. Jerusalem had
been taken and sacked by the insurgents, though soon recovered
from them ; and in the present unsettled state of things, it would
be highly imprudent to attempt "visiting that city. Further
information as to the issue of the struggle might, however,
shortly be expected to arrive.
In melancholy mood, I now repaired to the adjacent country-
house of Mr. T  . In the evening, that gentleman — who,
I should say, was agent in Syria for the Bible Society — ^retm-ned
from the city, and immediately in"dted me to estabUsh myself
in his house. He then introduced me to a young Jew, who, as
he informed me in a whisper, had recently embraced Christianity,
and was at present lodging in his house. His mien and manners
were very prepossessing, and nothing that I afterwards saw, or
heard of him, belied the apparent sincerity of his profession. The
slow rate at which the conversion of the Israelites goes on, as
compared with the expensiveness of the machinery employed, is

MISSIONARY LABOUR IN SYRIA. 51
SO notorious, that a facetious journal has estimated the cost of
each particular case as something quite enormous. Moreover,
the majority of converts have done but little honour to their
new faith, and there is too much reason to fear that interest
rather than con"viction has induced some to profess themselves
Christians, as it did many of their forefathers to become Moslems,
while reaUy at bottom retaining a belief in their ancient faith.
But it would be grossly unjust to allow this suspicion to influence
us in all cases ; or to regard the idea of converting the Jews
"with contempt and ridicule. One could not, at any rate, forget
that it was in approaching this very city of Damascus, some
eighteen hundred years ago, that Saul of Tarsus, — a Hebrew of
the Hebrews, who had just held the clothes of the murderers,
whUe Stephen was stoned to death, and who was then " breathing
out threatenings and slaughter" against the handful of Christians
concealed among its population, — ^was suddenly and marvellously
converted to the faith he was persecuting; that here he narrowly
escaped the infuriated bigofry of his countrymen ; and that he
received "within these waUs that impulse which led him to under
take his world-"wide missionary enterprise. There was something,
perhaps, in these associations, as well as in the manner of the
young convert, that led me to regard him with a feeling of
interest, afterwards increased into friendship by further acquaint
ance "with him, and by the ser"vdces which he rendered me during
my stay. There was something that recalled the practice of
Paul himself in his manner of Ufe, since he gained his subsistence
by his ordinary vocation, while labouring in private to influence
the minds of his countrymen.
The conversation naturally turned upon the prospects of
missionary labour in Syria, especially as regarded the Turks.
My host, a man of eamest and over-enthusiastic temperament,
maintained that my friends, the American missionaries, were
doing no sort of good. Nothing, he contended, could be so
utterly unapostoUc as their proceedings. Instead of going from
E 2

52 MISSIONARY LABOUR IN SYRIA.
city to city without purse or scrip, and boldly preaching in the
market-places to convert the infidels ; they had built themselves
the best houses in Beyrout, were in receipt of comfortable
salaries, and formed a sort of religious aristocracy, like that of
the Templars of old, except that instead of manfully fighting
"with sword and buckler, they preferred frusting to the efficacy of
Bibles and tracts.
I reminded my worthy host that, as he well knew, it would be
madness for them openly to preach Christianity to the Turks;
since, if they did, they would be ordered to leave the country
directly ; that no consul woiUd or could interfere to protect them ;
and they would, moreover, be torn in pieces by the first mob
they were so rash as to address.
"And what of that?" exclaimed my fervid friend; "the
blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church. I have even
offered to share the peril, and stand by them while they preach;
but they had not faith enough to accept my offer."
" I cannot blame them," was the reply. "You are a single
man, while they have, most of them, famiUes. What would
become of their "wives and children in case of anything
happening? "
" And what business," fiercely retorted my friend, " have
missionaries "with "wives and children ? Every weight should be
cast aside when engaged in the service of Christ. Why can
they not live unmarried, like myself and Caiman ? If they are
incapable of such self-denial, they are unfit for the work they
have undertaken."
I might perhaps have pleaded that a missionary, Uke an
apostle, was not prohibited from leading about with him " a sister
or a wife;" that the wives of missionaries had in modern times
been sometimes found even more useful than their husbands,
from their employment in the education of females. But the
truth is, that I merely laughed, and thus cut short an argument
in which I had no chance of convincing my opponent. The

EVENING AT DAMASCUS. 53
"whirligig of time," however, "brought back its revenge."
Calling upon my fi-iend some time afterwards in England, I
found that, like the missionaries, he had renounced celibacy, and
taken unto himself a wife ; and as he introduced me to the lady,
(who certainly was interesting enough to apologize for any
inconsistency,) she Uttle understood, I dare say, the meaning of
the maUcious smile that played on my 0"wn Up, and of the sudden
colour that suffused the cheek of her husband.
The last rays of the closing day were burnishing the tops of
the trees, and the freshness of evening succeeding to the fierce
heats of a Syrian noon. Taking our pipes in our hands, we
ascended from the divan to the open verandah at the top of the
house, which looked over the intervening suburb towards the
city. The most intoxicating odours arose from the luxurious
masses of orange, citron, tufted fig, pomegranate, and other
fi-agrant frees, which so densely crowded the neighbouring
gardens, that it seemed as if you might have rolled a ball over
theft tops up to the city walls. A few black cypresses shot up
their pyramidal cones into the sky. Here and there peeped out
in the vicinity the flat terrace and verandah of the contiguous
country houses, upon which we observed the stately forms of the
Turkish inmates gradually make their appearance also, pipe in
hand, and, sitting down, "with a gravity and stillness perfectly
statuesque, smoke on in imdisturbed tranquillity. Except the
distant howl of the Damascene dogs, which came in bursts, and
died faintly away upon the ear, the plaintive cooing of the doves,
swaying to and fro on the wa"nng palm-trees, was the only sound
which broke in upon the dreamy and pensive quietude. The sky,
of a deep purple, and without a single cloud, seemed, as we looked
into it, to form a vast arch, terminating on the distant horizon in
a bar of pale orange-coloured Ught. The red sunbeams died off
the tops of the innumerable minarets of the city, from which
arose not a single curl of smoke; and beyond, the dark level plain
extended to the distant desert, across which the caravan pursues

54 RIDE THROUGH THE CITY.
its way to Bagdad. As the sun sank, the evening breeze, which
had been playing across the sno"wy heights of Lebanon, and over
the distant sea, came rashing do"wn upon the gardens, which
were all in a rustle with wa"dng orange and pomegranate
blossoms, mingled with jasmine flowers and rose leaves. Truly
Damascus might weU be regarded as the earthly paradise of the
true believers !
At night I was conducted by my host to a large apartment,
which had formerly been the reception-room, but was now rarely
made use of. It was both spacious and splendid, paved "wdth
variegated marbles, and -with a fountain in the midst, lulled by
the murmur of which I gradually dropped asleep.
Next day was one of much bustle and preparation at the
consulate, Mr. Farren ha"ving settled to take a ride through the
city, accompanied by his lady, a guest, and myself, and attended
by the usual number of kavasses and servants. I have before
observed, that being the first consul ever appointed, the inha
bitants in general had displayed much opposition; and even
now, although he had made many acquaintances in the upper
ranks of society, the mass of the people stiU regarded him "with
a certain distrust. This was no doubt partly 0"wing to his
resolution not to give way upon the point of national costume,
but to maintain, together with the dignity of his office, that of
the European hat, coat, &c. so repugnant to the prejudices, as
well as contemptible to the taste, of the magnificent Moslems.
The whole party were therefore dressed rigorously a VAnglaise,
and looked the more strange and conspicuous by contrast "with
the attendant janissaries, who preceded them in gorgeous oriental
dresses, and glittering "with richly ornamented arms.
Issuing from the consulate, we passed along the naiTow paved
road bordered with mud walls, overtopped by orange and fig-
trees, which leads from Salahiyeh into the city. On peneteating
its streets, there was nothing at all answering to preconceived
ideas of oriental splendour. They presented, for the most part.

THE BAZAARS. 55
only dead walls of di-ied mud, perforated by a few gloomy
looking- portals and iron-baiTed unglazed windows. A¥hatever
magnificence there might be, seemed carefully concealed from
"view. It was not until we entered the bazaars that we could
form the slightest idea of the immense populousness and com
mercial prosperity of the capital of Syria. A bazaar, in oriental
lang-uage, means that part of a city exclusively devoted to
business. The bazaars of Damascus are covered in, to exclude
the rays of the sun, and Uned with shops open to the street, in
which the shopkeepers not only display their articles for sale, but
also carry on their craft. Although, perhaps, even more crowded
than those of any other oriental city, this does not form their
most sti-iking feature, which is rather the immense variety of
character and costume, in a place where no European innova
tions have taken place, as at Cairo and Constantinople ; at once
rivetting the sti-anger's attention, and tm-ning an ordinary street
thoroughfare into a succession of splendid pictures.
Fftst came the Tm-ks themselves, not wearing the red Fez
cap, and clipped costume, now coming so generally into use in
these degenerate days, but "with their grave brows overshadowed
by turbans of prodigious ampUtude and grandeur, "with long-
majestic beards, and robes descending almost to their very heels,
most gracefiil in outline, and costly in material, and infinitely
varied in colour. All the different tribes of the Lebanon had
theft different representatives, each wearing a dress perfectly
distinct from the others. There were the Aleppinnes and
northern Syrians, in their fur-lined jackets; Armenians, who
being mostly " Rayahs," or native Christians, and prohibited
from using the same brightly contrasted colours as the Turks,
had adopted and were generally robed in a sober garb of blue ;
while the Jews as usual, even when rich, in order to disarm
en"vy, were sordid in outward appearance, and for tiie most part
dressed themselves in black. Among the crowd might occa
sionally be seen natives of Persia, in the tightly fitting dress.

56 PUBLIC EDIFICES.
with long sleeves, and the bell-shaped conical cap of black
wool, somewhat resembUng the figures on the Nineveh marbles.
Arab sheiks, the heads of the Nomad tribes of the adjacent
desert, were also there; and the common Bedouin, with his wild
look, and his desert freedom of mien, also conducted his camel
through the press of the more civilized crowd.
The bazaars were, as usual, divided into avenues, appropriated
to different branches of trade. The manufactures of Damascus
are less celebrated than of old; the famous "blades" with which
such wonderful exploits were performed, are now no longer
fabricated ; yet, the stuffs, and siUis, and horse-frappings, make
a splendid show, and are highly prized through the surrounding
country. Nothing seems more remarkable than the number of
sweetmeat shops, the piles of candy, the delicate cates, and the
delicious " kaklakoom," as it is pronounced; a word that, rolled
upon the tongue, seemed aptly to designate the thing it indicates.
The cook-shops, at which the savoury " kabobs " and other
Arab dishes are served, are very numerous, and there are coffee
shops at every corner. Some of the coffee houses are built upon
the margin of the river Barrada, among groves of trees, and are
the favourite resort of the orientals, who delight in the lulling
sounds of running water and the rustling of foUage, almost as
much as they do in coffee and tobacco.
In passing through the city we were not gratified by the
discovery of any very noticeable edifices. The mosques are almost
innumerable, but all built on nearly the same pattern ; the only
one remarkable, being that said formerly to have been a Christian
church. The great com-t of the building abuts upon the
bazaar, and we could catch here and there a glimpse of the
interior, which but rendered us the more desirous of obtaining
an indulgence, from which all Christians, as it may well be
supposed, are jealously debarred — that of a minute and leisurely
inspection. We passed also the castle, a massive building, then
occupied by the Egyptian commandant with his ti-oops. Owing

CHANGE OF COSTUME. 57
to the excited state of the city, every one was on the alert, and
every possible precaution taken to guard against a sudden
outbreak of the populace. Having traversed the city, we
emerged, by another gate, into the subm-bs, and passing through
an extensive cemetery, took a circuitous way back to the con
sulate. Oiu- passage had not been signalized by any actual
insult, but there was that in the sullen physiognomy of the
Moslems which told us that om- immunity fr-om outrage was
owing to force alone.
For several days I continued to explore the city, and to
loimge about its bazaars. Here I once more met "with my
American friend and the rest of our company, who had all of
them been " down " -with the fever, so rife while the heats of
tiie summer continue. During my rambles I never met with
any annoyance, but as the European dress rendered me disagree
ably conspicuous, I took into my head the sudden fancy of
assuming the costume of the country; a project which, with the
assistance of my friend C  , I accordingly proceeded to carry
into execution. Esche"wing the gorgeous and expensive dress of
the Turk, I determined to adopt the more sober style of a "Rayah,"
or Christian. A turban of white muslin, edged with gold, wound
artistically by the skill of my servant round a red cap, formed
a complete protection against the sun; and heavy as it seemed,
was, as I was assured, only half the weight of those often mounted
by others. Over a loose shirt, composed of silk and muslin,
and " very spacious breeches " of thin calico, was worn a long
silk robe gftt around the waist with a shawl ; while a grave long
gown of blue cloth, -with ample sleeves, completed the entire
smt, which was considered neat and becoming. As my face was
bm-ned the colour of brickdust, and, to save trouble, I had suffered
my mustachios to grow to a respectable size, the transformation
was so complete, that my own mother, had she met me in the
sfreet, would have passed me by without recognition. Instead
of boots I wore two paft-s of slippers, one pair all of soft yellow

58 CHANGE OF COSTUME.
leather, fitted tightly round the foot ; the other of red, more
stoutly built, and "with soles to them, but no heels, were worn
over the former, and intended to be thi-0"wn off and left at the
door, when calling to pay a visit. Ha-dng donned this garb,
and taken my pipe in hand, I plunged into the midst of the
crowd. My feelings were indescribably odd. The luxurious
looseness of my dress, so different fr-om the tight garments that
I was accustomed to, and the feeling of almost impenetrable
disguise, produced a totally different set of sensations, amounting
almost to a doubt of my personal identity. When we arrived
at the house of a ft-iend of C  , and kicking off my red
shoes at the entry, I shuffled into the reception-room, and
jumping up on the divan, squatted do"wn cross-legged like a veri
table Moslem (an operation impossible in tights), and the black
slave handed me coffee and a pipe, and I began to smoke dozily
away like the others, the feeling of illusion became altogether
bewildering. The first practical result of this change of costume was but
little encouraging. In pushing carelessly through a file of
Egyptian cavafty, which was straggling rather than marching
across an open square, I was saluted "with a hearty curse from
the nearest horseman, accompanied by a smart blow across the
shoulders with the flat of his sabre, an indignity he would
never have dared to offer to a Frank ; but the comfort of it in
shuffling about the city, and the perfect incognito which it per
mitted, induced me to retain it in spite of my choler at this
untoward commencement.
I have already observed that Mr. Farren had succeeded in
gaining several acquaintances among the higher classes ; and
while the mass of the people looked with disUke upon the hated
giaours who insulted their prejudices by wearing the offensive
hat and coat, some of these — as extremes meet — took a secret
delight in sho"wing their emancipation fr-om the prejudices of their
forefathers. This gave rise to an adventure, to which, ha"ving

THE GREAT MOSQUE. 59
narrated ft fully elsewhere,* I shaU but briefly allude here.
A venerable MooUah, who boasted of his descent fi-om the father-
in-law of the Prophet, and was regarded by the people "with the
utmost respect, ha"nng chanced to call wMlst I was engaged in
sketching the costume of a female domestic of Mr. Farren's,
in"7ited us to pay a "visit to himself and his wife, in order that
I might take a porfrait of her also.
We repaired to his house as invited, when as it happened, we
were not only introduced to his lady, but enjoyed a sight of the
remainder of his hareem. As I greatly desfted to obtain a
dra-wing of the great Mosque, I begged that our venerable
entertainer would endeavour to procure me the means of doing
so. This he promised to accomplish, and according to his
insfructions, I repaft-ed one morning to his house, in my oriental
dress, among the folds of which I had concealed some paper and
pencfts. We took our way to a narrow and secluded sfreet, at one end
of which was a small barber's shop, and immediately opposite,
one of the gates looking into the court of the gTeat Mosque.
The MooUah then dived into the shop, and beckoned me to
foUow him, but as only a very imperfect "view could be obtained
from thence, I stepped out into the street, and after ascertaining
that no one was in sight, produced my drawing materials, and
advancing to the gateway, began rapidly to copy the leading
outlines of the mosque. Scarcely had I done so before I observed
the MooUah with his turban off, and his head and chin enveloped
in lather, wildly motioning me to retreat fi-om the imprudent
post I had chosen. It was already high time ; some people at
a distance in the court had observed me, and were laying their
heads together. Their gestures and glances betrayed anything
but satisfaction. A tempest was e"sadently brewing, the issue of
which might have been serious. I quietly thrust my paper into
the capacious bosom of my gaberdine, and after looking around
' The Nile Boat.

60 STATISTICS OF DAMASCUS.
me with an air of innocence, walked over to the barber's shop,
where I was received "with a horrible frown by my conductor,
who, as soon as the barber had finished his operations, retired
precipitately from the spot.
I saw the worthy MooUah more than once during my stay in
Damascus; and some time after my return to England, was
favoured by the consul with a letter, which exposes the situation
of Syria after Ibrahim Pasha had succeeded in crushing all his
enemies, and introducing his system of monopoly.
" Two days ago," observes the "writer, " I had the pleasure of
seeing your Turkish ftiend, who is a lineal descendant of the
fftst Caliph, Abou Bekir ; and it sfrangely occurred that I have
lately had as my guest for about three weeks, a descendant of
Ali, the opposite branch of the blood of Mahommed, and one of
the most sacred men in Persia, the Imaum of Meshid in
Khorassan ; — two lineal descendants of the great opposite Unes of
the royal and prophetic blood of Mahommed, meeting together at
Damascus, the gate of Mecca, in the residence of a British officer !
Tempora mutantur."
" The resistance of the people has been overcome ; hope and
promise are now prostrate, and Mehemet Ali is draining and
debilitating the resources of the country. I fear that under his
government, if it continues, after a few years longer, it "wiU be
sadly reduced. I trust, however, that all these events are but
the great means of Pro"7idence for breaking up the system which
has so long bound and degraded the energies and morals of these
countries, and for re-establishing the national, mteUectual, and
social character of the people on truer principles."
I shall say but Uttle as to the statistics of this great city.
It is supposed to' contain a population varying from 120,000 to
150,000 souls, sometimes increased to 200,000 by the influx of
Bedouins and Druses.'* This is independently of the numbers
congregated in its walls and subm-bs dming the passage to and
* Chesney's Euphrates.

BIBLICAL ASSOCIATIONS. 61
fro of the great caravan from Constantinople to Mecca. The
number of Armenian and Greek Christians is about 11,000, and
of the Jews about 5,000. It will, no doubt, be in the recollection
of many, that a persecution of the latter people, on the old and
absm-d charge of sacrificing a Christian boy at their festivals, took
place a few years back, when Sir Moses Montefiore went over
fi-om England in order to obtain immunity for his brethren fi-om
similar outrages in fiiture.
The most interesting biblical associations connected with this
city are, that it is mentioned as already in existence when
Abraham migrated fi-om Ur of the Chaldees into Palestine, his
steward being one Eliezer of Damascus ; that here was the
residence of Naaman the Syrian ; that the Abana and Pharphar
which he so patriotically deemed better than all the waters of
Jordan, and whose names ring so euphoniously in the stately
verse of our great poet,* here unite in the modern Barrada ; and
that, as every one knows, it was the scene of St. Paul's conversion
at a period when Syria had fallen under the Roman sway.
Tradition has preserved the memory, and has pretended to
identify the locaUties connected "with this critical period in the
life of the Apostle. The alleged spot where he fell from his
horse is pointed out, about two miles fi-om the city on the direct
road leading towards Palestine, and by which road he must
almost necessarily have approached. One of the sfreets still
retains the name of " Straight," a main avenue, but rebuilt very
probably over and over again since the Apostle's days. There is
here some degree of probabiUty ; but this ceases altogether when
the houses of Ananias and Naaman are pointed out, and the
place where Paul was let down in a basket from a house over
hanging the city wall. The " Arabia " into which he retired
on this occasion was probably Haouran, the district eastward and
southward of the plain.
I retumed to Beyrout by a more direct road, through Barouk
* Paradise Lost. Book I.

62 RETURN TO BEYROUT.
and Deir el Kamar. The journey to Damascus had proved
exteemely interesting, but the state of the country was still so
unsettled, that it was deemed exceedingly impradent, especially
-with limited time and resources, to attempt peneteating the
disturbed district. To give up Jerusalem when "within a few
days' joumey, was most disteessing, but none of my companions,
nor any other teaveUer,had succeeded in getting there; and I was
therefore reluctantly compeUed to renounce the long-cherished
hope of visiting it, with not the slightest expectation moreover
of being able to redeem such a disappointment at any future
period.

CHAPTER II.
FROM BETEOUT TO SELETJCUl, ANTIOCH, TAESUS, ETC.— COASTING VOTAGE TO
RHODES.
Having decided, with many a pang, to turn my back upon the
Holy City, and to proceed into the north of Syria, it was some
indemnification, at least, for the bftterness of my disappointment,
that the region I was about to -visit was less hackneyed by
ti-aveUers than the ordinary routes through Palestine. Antioch,
the queen of the East, had been comparatively little explored.
The city " where the disciples were first called Christians,"— the
seat of one of the earUest churches, proverbial for the luxury ot
its inhabitants and the magnificence of its edifices, of which latter
considerable remains were said to exist, — presented itself to my
imagination in the most attoactive colours.
Ha-ving hfted one of the very smallest barks that ply along the
coast, I took leave one evening of my kind friends at the British
consulate, and, favoured by the land breeze, ran so rapidly along
the coast, that long before noon on the following day we reached
the little island of Ruad, many miles to the north of Beyrout,
where, the wind entirely faUing, we were compelled to wait
until the evening. This island, under the name of Aradus,
formed a part of the commercial confederacy of the Tjnrians,
and after the revolutions of so many ages, seems at the present
day a humble maritime republic, in which all the inhabitants are
seamen or ship"wrights. Some smaU vessels were on the stocks,
and a considerable number of fishing-boats at anchor ; and we

64 TORTOSA.
even hunted out an English "vdce-consul, who, but rarely teoubled
with the visits of travellers, gave us a hospitable reception;
nevertheless, time hung so heavily on hand, that a boat was
hfted to row across to the neighbouring town of Tortous, or
Tortosa, near which we could discern at this distance the remains
of some considerable edifice.
Having reached the deserted strand, we found it was but a
short walk up to the building, which proved to be the ruins of a
large church, apparently, from its pointed arches, the work of the
Crusaders. The spot had long since been abandoned ; the roof
was entirely gone, the walls rent, and a few goats were browsing
upon the long rank grass that grew where once had been the
altar. We then walked on to Tortosa, another ruin, with the
remains of strong fortifications, also erected during the brief
existence of the Latin kingdom. These memorials of the stft-ring
and romantic ages of the Crusades can never, at least by me, be
beheld without a feeling of peculiar interest. Tortosa was one of
the last strongholds which yielded to the arms of Saladin, and
here the Christian knights took their final leave of the land they
had so long and so gallantly struggled to maintain.
We retumed to Ruad, and, favoured again by a faft and
pleasant breeze, set sail, and soon lost sight of that ancient
commercial island, amidst the Ught vapours that rose after sunset
from the cerulean sea. There were no berths in this diminutive
bark ; as before, a carpet spread upon the sand which served as
ballast, saddle-bags for piUows, and a cloak for a coverlet, made
up the accommodation ; I slept soundly, and had the pleasure, on
awaking, to find that we were proceeding "with the same rapidity
as before. The coast scenery was growing bolder as we advanced.
Beyond the lofty headlands which dropped into the sea, was seen
the stupendous cone of Mount Casius, isolated like Vesu"vius, its
summit bare and white, but its flanks, which rose directly from
the waves, covered "with magnificent forests, apparently in a state
of nature. We flew rapidly along past this magnificent object.

VISIT TO SUWADITEH. 65
and in the afternoon entered the Orontes. At the mouth of this
river is a bar upon which the surf was breaking roughly, and in
crossing- this, we were at one moment very near being capsized
among- the breakers, the next, our bark was in still water and
qmetly moored to the shore.
Near the landing-place, in a village called Suwadiyeh, or as
Em-opeans call it, " Suad^a," is the residence of Mr. Barker,
formerly our consul at Alexandria, who having retired from
active Ufe, has here purchased an estate, and devoted himself to
his favoiu-ite piu"suit of horticultiu-e. A letter of introduction to
this gentleman had been furnished me, which I sent forward
while I waited ; and soon, " on hospitable thoughts intent," a
member of his family rode down, bringing a led horse upon which
I was to accompany him to the house. Whether the having
passed two nights in an open boat, or the evident cordiality of
my reception had influenced me, I know not, but when I saw the
white waUs and shady verandahs of the building peeping up
among luxm-iant gardens, it struck me as the prettiest and most
English looking place I had seen in the whole of Syria. Nor
can I ever forget. how I was welcomed by this estimable gentle
man and his lady. In a word, I felt on this remote and unvisited
corner of Syria, at home. There was all that goes to make up
the precious significance of that word to a wayworn traveller in
the manner of my host and hostess. That night I laid my head
on my piUow with an unwonted feeling of mental and bodily
luxury. Next moming I was abroad before breakfast, with Mr. Barker,
inspecting his gardens, in which he might well take pride. The soil
of Syria is most prolific, but the art of gardening has long been
forgotten, and the fruits obtainable in the country, grapes and figs
excepted, are of poor quality. My host had introduced varieties
of the apricot, "sdne, and other fr-ees, and the products of which
under his system of horticulture were so delicious, that I have
heard a captain of a man-of-war on the Syrian station declare,
F

66

SELEUCU.

that when once he had got into the garden he knew not how to
get out of ft. Up in the neighbouring mountains Mr. Barker had
also estabhshed a plantation of potatoes and other vegetables
requiring a colder climate, with complete success. He was thus
not only indulging what Bacon caUs " the purest of human
pleasures," but bestowing a boon upon the country. Yet so
deeply rooted were the indolence and apathy engendered by long
habft, that when cuttings and seeds were given to the neigh
bouring peasantry, they seldom took the fr-ouble of cultivating
them. This luxuriance of production showed, at aU events, what
Syria once was, and what she might again be, under a govem
ment that should know how to stimulate, -without crushing, as
Mehemet AU was then doing, the industrial energies of the people.
After breakfast, Ave mounted our horses, and rode over to see
the ruins of Seleucia. This city, which bears the name of its
founder, Seleucus, was the port of Antioch. When that city
was in all its glory, so also was Seleucia ; but, whUe the former

i H I ' i

TOMB AT SELEUCIA.

city still subsists, although in a degraded condition, the latter
has fallen into irrecoverable ruin. We reached its remains
through a wild tract, overgro"wn with myrtle and oleander, which

RUnSfS OF SELEUCIA.

67

here flourish in the utmost luxm-iance. The city stood on a plain
sti-etching to the sea, backed by Mount Saint Cymon which
served as its NecropoUs ; its precipitous cliffs being- everywhere
hewn into sepulchres, after the fashion of Petra, accessible only
by flights of steps cut in the rock. Passing through a ruined
gateway, we crossed the area of the city to the port, of which
extensive remains may still be traced, sufficient to show that it
was once capable of sheltering a considerable number of ships.

PORT OP SELEUCIA.

The sea was breaking desolately over its ruinous piers; and
Mount Casius (upon whose top Julian sacrificed to the titulary
deity of Antioch) lifted its magnificent cone in the background.
Here, in the days of its former prosperity, when the harbour was
crowded "with shipping, and its temples hung with the votive
offerings of grateful mariners, and the city alive with commerce,
Paul embarked on his first missionary voyage to Cyprus ; and
here he landed and embarked again more than once during his
numerous missionary journeys to and from Antioch. No spot
on earth can now be more utterly desolate than Seleucia. That
F 2

68 EXCAVATIONS AT SELEUCIA.
it was formerly great and populous might well be seen from
its tombs and ruins alone ; but it was not until we "visited its
really wonderful excavations^ forming, apparently, a convenient
passage from the city down to the sea, that we could form any
adequate idea of what the place once was. They are thus
correctly described by Colonel Chesney : — " The first part of
this extraordinary work is a hollow way of 600 feet long by
22 feet wide, and, in some places, about 120 feet high. The
second is a regular square tunnel, 293 feet in length by 22 feet
wide, and 24 feet high, which, like the preceding portion, is cut
through a compact tertiary limestone. To the latter succeeds
another hollow way, of 204 feet long by 22 feet wide, from the
bottom of which, at the southern side, whilst the excavation
itself descends more rapidly, a supply of water was carried along
a channel of 18 feet "wide, preserving the same level tiU it
reached the exterior side of the hill, fr-om whence it was carried
southward into the city. In this portion of the work, which is
110 feet high, (represented in the engra-nng) a narrow staftease
descends along the side of the rock, from the top of the ex
cavation to within about 14 feet of the bottom, which, probably,
was the ordinary level of the water in this part of the cut.
Another tunnel, 102 feet in length, succeeds the latter portion of
the work, and then a hollow way of 1,065 feet, the eastern part
of which is crossed by a graceful aqueduct, supported by a single
arch. In a recess near the opposite extremity of this, are some
well-executed tombs, on the upper part of the rock ; and a Uttle
onwards, the effects of time are apparent, in the water having
forced a passage through the southern side of the excavation,
from whence it proceeds, along a steep rocky descent, into the
great basin. Thus far, the general direction is W.|S. ; but the
excavation now sweeps gradually round, and at 322 feet north
ward, it is crossed by an arch, bearing some imperfect inscrip
tions. Finally, about 588 feet further, the hoUow way, which
is in this part 30 feet high by 17 feet wide, terminates abruptly.

f

fft

ll

'•f ,

,1* 1"

' i'f

a * .

^t

THE ORONTES. 69
without any kind of steps, at nearly 30 feet above the level of
the sea."
This detailed description will convey an idea of one of the
most surprising works of its kind in existence. The effect
sti-ikingly reminds one of the ra-vine at Pefr-a, although less wild
and rugged, and principally, if not entirely, artificial.
The evening passed away most delightfully in the society of
om- host and his family circle, to which were added some young
Syrian ladies, of an exquisite type of oriental beauty, with
almond-shaped eyes of the most winning softness; — there was
also a rich Christian merchant from Antioch, named Girgius
Deeb, who in-vited me to take up my quarters at his house, while
"visiting that city.
Next morning, at an early hour, I set off with my servant on
a temporary "visit to Antioch, intending to follow as far as
possible the "windings of the Orontes, and also to "visit the site of
Daphne by the way. We therefore struck do"wn to the banks of
the river, not far from the spot where we had landed, and made
our way along them by a narrow horse-path, worn through the
thickets that came do"wn to its brink. The scenery was wholly
unlike anything I had pre"7iously seen in Syria, — sfr-ongly re
sembling that of the Wye, except that the vegetation was totally
different; but though, for the most part, growing wild, it was
luxuriant and beautiful beyond description. Tangled thickets
of myrtle covered "with odoriferous blossoms, and of bay, laurel,
and other flowering shrubs, scarcely left room to pass. We had
not proceeded far, when a mass of rich pm-ple rocks, dipping
theft feet into the river, forbade all further passage along its
brink. This romantic spot is called " the Pass of the Red Cliff."
Here, then, we diverged from the stream, and, making a wide
circuit around this precipitous obsfruction, came down upon the
river some miles further up, and ferrying across, ascended its
right bank, up which the road passed steeply towards Beit el
Ma, believed to be the site of that luxurious Daphne which

70 SITUATION OF ANTIOCH.
corrupted by its fascinations the citizens of Antioch. The path
to the top of the mountain overhanging the Orontes is through
avenues of bay and myrtle-trees; and the air is redolent of
most luxurious odom-s. At length, we lost sight of the river
and descended into a secluded valley, overhung "with lofty
mountains, whence several streams, issuing forth from the
fragi-ant thickets, dash wildly down its slope in numerous runnels
and waterfalls, forcing their way through tufts of purple oleander
and scented shrubs, and thro"wing out a deUcious freshness. No
temples now adorn the site, no sacred groves any longer exist ;
but the natural fascinations of the spot amply bear out the glo"wing
accounts te-ansmitted to us by its ancient panegyrists.
We pursued our way from Daphne through a mountain fract
until, fi-om the edge of a steep descent, we suddenly beheld
Antioch, with the plain of the Orontes at our feet, and the distant
moimtains beyond. Its situation is one of the most striking
imaginable. The valley of the Orontes, here exceedingly broad,
is defended on the south by a range of lofty crags, from which
the ground sinks gradually to the river. Extending along the
top of this range of crags, themselves a natm-al fortification,
had been drawn a line of wall which, descending the heights
abruptly to the river, was carried along near its edge, so as to
enclose the whole circumference of nearly seven miles. This waU
had been flanked by an immense number of towers, of which
many still lifted their stately heads before us. Of the extensive
area enclosed within these bulwarks, an area which was formerly
crowded with the magnificent buildings of the Syrian capital,
the paltry town of Antakea, half-bm-ied among gardens, occupies
merely the north-west angle. We rapidly descended the stony
pathway, and passing under one of the huge and tottering towers,
entered the town by a breach in the ruinous wall, and in a few
moments reached the comfortable abode of Girgius Deeb, who
received us with the utmost cordiality. The house, mostly built
of wood, was, as we found, erected upon the remains of the

ITS POPULATION. 71
Roman waU overhanging the Orontes. Girgius appeared a man
well to do in the world; his household was numerous, and a
constant succession of "visitors shared his hospitalities. We sat
down "with a party of merchants from Aleppo to dinner, which
was served in a divan, enclosed on three sides, and open on the
fom-th to the court. Before dinner a whet of rahi was handed
round. Upon a large stool was next deposited an enormous tray
up-piled with a mountain of savoury pilau, into which the guests
dived -with their fingers, and, by a dexterous manipulation,
managed to convey no inconsiderable portion do"wn their throats.
To this succeeded other Arab dishes, equally tempting, which
were disposed of after the same fashion ; and at night we had
a comfortable shake-down upon the broad and cushioned divan,
which, as in oriental houses, serves at once for a sofa by day,
and a bed at night. Some of the pasha's officers joined us in
the evening ; and we got up a little music, intended to be lively,
and, perhaps, reaUy so to Oriental ears, but very dreary to
those of Europeans.
Next day I was abroad early, and taking my dragoman, set
off to examine the city. Beyond the walls hardly a trace of
antiquity remains. Ancient Antioch has, indeed, been crambled
to dust, aUke by the sudden con-vulsions of its oft-repeated earth
quakes, and the slow but certain operation of revol"ving ages.
We passed through a few shabby streets, and by two or three
mosques, and soon after saw a chm-ch, appropriated to the
reUgious services of the Greek Christians, but found nothing to
remind us that here the disciples of our Sa-dour were first " called
Christians." The present population of Antioch is under six thousand ; that
of the city and its port, Seleucia, being formerly, it is said, a
miUion, — more than that of the whole of Syria at the present
day. Of this a large proportion consists of Greek or Syrian
Christians, and including in their number my host, Girgius.
One of the entrances to the city stUl retains the name of

72

WALL AT ANTIOCH.

St. Paul's Gate ; and not far from thence are the excavations
supposed to form part ofthe Chm-ch of St. John.
Lea-fing the town, we struck up through the gardens to the
slope of the hill, and, following the road to Aleppo, soon entered

WALL AT ANTIOCH.

a wild ra"vdne, enclosed within the walls, and which was formerly
crossed by bridges, of which the foundations could still be traced.
Then we shortly came upon, perhaps, the most surprising part of
the ancient fortifications. The wall, descending steeply from
the heights above, is built across the ra"vine, up from the very
bottom, and then carried along the edge of a range of precipices
to the opposite height, whence they descend in the same manner

FORTIFICATIONS. 73
to join the wall along the river side. Perhaps there is nothing
in existence that gives so striking an impression as this of
the daring genius of the Roman engineers, and of the style
in which they were accustomed to treat obstacles apparently
insuperable. One afternoon I left the house of Gftgius to examine more
particularly the splendid towers of the western wall, and, unfor
tunately, not only accoutred in my eastern habiliments, by this
time rather the worse for wear, but also unaccompanied by
my servant, to whose somewhat encumbering attention I had
a disUke on such occasions ; although, happily, my Alexandria
firman was safely stowed away in the breast-pocket of my silken
gaberdine. A walk of a few minutes through the streets of the
to"wn, and over a breach m the ruinous wall, had brought me to
the foot of the towers; where, seated on a faUen fi-agment,
I hoisted my umbreUa, took out my sketch-book, and prepared
to commit to paper one of the most pictm-esque subjects of the
kind that ever tempted the pencil of an errant artist.
The towers that rose before me formed, without exception,
the grandest specimen of Roman fortification I had ever seen, or
that, perhaps, ever existed. To use the words of Col. Chesney,
whose description, as a mUitary man, must be much more satisfac
tory than any I could give : — " It was in overcoming the defects
of the ground at the southern extremity of the city, that the
skUl of the Romans is most conspicuous. Owing to the steepness
of the decli"dty, the ordinary platform surmounting the wall
here, becomes a succession of steps between the towers, which
are very near each other, and have a story rising above the
waU, to protect the intervening portions from the commanding
ground outside. The towers are of uniform consteuction, about
30 feet square, and project each way, so as to defend the interior
side as weU as the exterior face of the wall. The latter is from
50 to 60 feet high, and 8 or 10 feet broad at top, which is
covered by cut stones terminating in a cornice. The towers are

74 ROMAN ANTIQUITIES.
perfectly upright, and have interior staircases, and three loop-
holed stages resting on brick arches, the uppermost having
a stone platform, and a small cistern beneath. Low doors, or
rather posterns, afford a passage along the parapet, so that these
structures may be regarded as a chain of small castles connected
by a curtain, rather than as simple towers." This description
wiU be elucidated by a reference to the engraving. Of this chain
of magnificent bulwarks, some had fallen in huge fragments
around, overthro"wn probably by the earthquakes that have
shaken the rocky soil; one or two were undermined and tottering ;
but the principal chain still remains in an excellent state of
preservation. There was an interest in obser"dng the similarity
of consteuction to that of the Roman remains in England, the
bricks being of the same shape, and disposed in layers, "with
stone-work between them, like those of St. Alban's, Rich-
borough, and Leicester ; and in thus realizing the extent of that
stupendous empire, which has left behind it such magnificent
reUcs, from the banks of the Euphrates to the firths of Scotland.
I was for soniie time so absorbed in my occupation, as hardly
to perceive that ^qme Egyptian officers and soldiers, who seemed
to have made a guard-house of one of the towers, were watching
my operations "with considerable interest, and, as I thought, some
slight degree of mistrust; indeed, the sight of a tm-baned Rayah,
as I appeared to be, alone, "with an umbrella over his head, and
a sketch-book on his knees, delineating the fortifications, was as
suspicious, as it no doubt was grotesque. They came up, saluted
me, looked over my work, and, after some whispering together,
took their leave. Ha-ying completed my sketch, I arose to
return to the house, when two of the soldiers placing their hands
upon my shoulders, ui-ged me, as I imagined, to follow them to
the guard-house in the tower, for the pm-pose of "dsiting the
officers. As I had no time to spare for this purpose, I ci"dlly
shook myself clear of them, and retraced my steps towards the
to"wn. Still they continued to follow, and importune me to

'^^

AN ADVENTUBJ!;. 75
return to the tower, endeavouring- to lay hold of me, and
I thrusting them off fi-om time to time with my umbrella. On
receiving- a rather smartish poke in the ribs, one of the fellows
drew his sabre, and suddenly sliding my ann within his own,
hiUTied me rapidly forward through the streets, which we had
just entered, past the house of Girgius, as far as a building
which served for head-quarters to the officers. While thus
di-agged ignominiously along, unarmed, and unable to speak an
intelligible word, I held out my hands pantomimically to the
people about, imploring them to rescue me, but they Only shook
their heads and turned aside. I have often since rejoiced that
I had not a pistol about me, as I might perhaps have done an
act which would have at least occasioned me much regret, if it
had not involved me in serious difficulty.
On entering the guard-room, the soldier thrust me up on
a platform ; where, upon cushions, were seated two Egyptian
officers, smoking their pipes ; while two or three attendants were
standing around. Then, addressing himself to the principal,
and pointing to me, he told his story, of which I could not, of
course, comprehend a syUable; but which seemed to make
a great impression upon the officer, who made signs to his
attendants to seize mc, and administer the bastinado. This
cruel process consists in laying the sufferer flat on his face, raising
and laying bare his feet, and bestowing upon his naked soles
a number of stripes proportioned to his supposed guilt. My
blood boiled within me, but more from indignation than fear. I
rushed up to the seat of the officer, drew forth my fftman, and
shouting out the magic word " Inglfese," almost thrust it into
his bearded face. As he rapidly scanned its contents, his coun
tenance became exceedingly blank, and he exchanged significant
glances "with his fellow-officer, as much as to say, " How very
nearly we had committed ourselves with this dog of an infidel!"
His face then became suddenly radiant with smiles, and he
politely motioned me to take a seat by his side ; but I could not

76 HISTORICAL NOTICES.
digest my choler quite so suddenly, and without returning his
salute, moved off to the ente-ance. Yet his mind seemed not
quite satisfied, for, following me to the door, he obtained, half by
force and half by entreaty, a glimpse at the suspicious sketch
book, and then courteously dismissing me, went back to his divan
and his pipe.
I returned through the streets, which had just witnessed my
humiliation, to the house of Girgius; who opened wide his eyes
as I narrated the adventure; but to my demands for vengeance,
only retumed a bitter smile and a shrug. After all, as it hap
pened, there was but Uttle to complain of, and that little o"wing
entirely to my o"wn imprudence. By degrees I cooled do"wn, but
thought fit, nevertheless, to call next day "with my servant, and
demand an explanation ofthe business. This was speedily afforded.
The city was near the northern fi-ontier of Syria, and Ibrahim
Pasha intended to make it a " place d' armes," and the centre or
his power in this quarter. The Turkish army was encamped on
the other side of the Taurus, and the sight of a person drawing
the waUs was suspicious ; and my oriental dress, which somehow,
as the Yankees say, did not look " kinder nat'ral," confirmed the
impression that I was a spy in disguise, making engineering
notes to faciUtate some futm-e movements. From henceforth I
took leave definitively of oriental masquerading, and determined
never again to sail under false colours.
Antioch, the Queen of the East, as she was called by PUny,
was built by Seleucus Nicanor, founder of the Syro-Macedonian
empire, and for two centuries and a half was the seat of the
Seleucidan dynasty. Its delicious situation and cUmate, the
beauty of its environs, and the embelUshments la"vished on it
by its princes, soon rendered it a favom-ite seat of luxm-y. Its
mixed population united, as Gibbons says, " the Uvely licentious
ness of the Greeks with the hereditary softness of the Syrians."
Its theatre formed the principal source of their enjoyment, while
its temples, with their reUgious ceremonies, so far from

SCRLPTURAL NOTICES. 11
advancing the cause of "vdrtue, might rather be regarded as the
deification of "vice. Such as it was under the Seleucidan dynasty,
it continued under the sway of the Romans, being the favourite
residence of many of the emperors. The doctrines of Christianity
were first brought hither by fugitives from Jerusalem, after the
martyrdom of Stephen, who first addressing themselves exclu
sively to the Jews, but afterwards also to the Gentiles, made so
considerable a number of converts, that it attracted the attention
of the chiu-ch at Jerusalem, who sent down Barnabas to confirm
them in their new profession. Anxious for the cooperation of
Paul, Barnabas went to Tarsus to seek him ; and continued to
labom- together "with the apostle for a whole year. Not only
was it at Antioch that the discipler were first called Christians, —
a name not given by the Jews, nor assumed by themselves but
probably bestowed as distinctive by the Gentiles, — but it was there
too that the first great missionary enterprise was undertaken, when
Paul and Bamabas were fftst set apart for the work of conveying
the gospel to the Gentiles ; and Antioch long continued to be
their head-quarters, to which they returned after their visits to
Cyprus, Asia Minor, and Greece. It was here that the disputes
about the necessity of circumcision, and other Jewish practices,
took place, which threatened to disturb the peace of the infant
church ; and here, finally, Paul and Barnabas separated after
the dispute concerning Mark. Luke, it should be observed, the
narrator of these events, was himself a native of Antioch. The
church thus planted and carefully watered, continued to increase
in importance, though not, unhappily, in purity, until it was
caUed at length the Eye of the Eastern Church. Hence, when the
number of " Christians " had grown so large as to attract the
notice and provoke the persecution of the Roman emperors, Igna
tius, the bishop, was sent to Rome by Trajan, to be thrown to
the Uons in the Circus. It was here, after the triumphant establish
ment of the Christian faith had taken place, under Constantine,
that Julian, while he satirized the hereditary luxury which the

78 RETURN TO SUADEA.
inhabitants had contrived to incorporate with their religious
profession, made so ineffectual an attempt to re-establish the
expiring Paganism upon the ruins of Christianijy. Here, in
short, — for the chronicles of Antioch would fill a volume of
themselves, — the golden-mouthed Chrysostom displayed his
eloquence and his virtues, until he was translated almost by
force to the superior dignity of the see of Constantinople.
Ha"ving been overwhelmed by successive earthquakes, it was
rebuilt by Justinian, who gave it the name of Theopolis, or, the
City of God. During the declining days of the Roman empfte,
it was repeatedly lost and regained by the Christians, Persians,
and Saracens, from the last of whom it was taken, after infinite
sufferings, by the Crusaders, under Godfi-ey de Bouillon. It con
tinued to be a place of great importance during the Latin
kingdom of Jerusalem, until it was finally taken from them, and
ruthlessly devastated by the ferocious Bibars, sultan of Egypt.
Swept as it has been, again and again, by the sword of the con
queror, and aU the concomitant horrors of war, earthquakes have
yet been its greatest enemy. It is said that, in a.d. 588, above sixty
thousand persons perished in one of these terrible con"vulsions ;
and the only wonder is that, after such repeated devastations,
any fraee of its original magnificence should be left behind.
Retm-ning, after a few days' stay at Antioch, to see our hosts
at Suad^a, we hired horses to convey us to Adona and Tarsus.
We were now to traverse a region comparatively wild and mift-e-
quented, but, owing to the presence of the Eg3rptian army,
rendered, at this time, perfectly safe for teavellers. Striking
across the broad plain of the Orontes, we entered the mountains,
and, follo"wing the line of the ancient Roman paved way, portions
of which were yet remaining, arrived, in the evening, at BeiMn,
one of the most romantic places in Syria, and which gives its
name to this pass through the defiles of Mount Amanus, anciently
denominated " the Syrian Gates." This road had witnessed the
passage of the armies of Cyrus and Alexander ; and, in later

ALEXANDRETTA. 79
ages, the Crusaders and other warriors had marched along it ;
it had been trodden by the Apostle Paul and the early teachers
of Christianity, hurrying to and fr-o on their errands of mercy
and love ; in fact, it constituted the only direct line of travel
from Asia Minor and Cilicia into Syria. It is the line by which,
in modern times, merchandise is conveyed from the port of Alex-
andretta to the city of Aleppo and the Euphrates ; yet, so
depopulated is the country, and so few the wayfarers, that we
hardly encountered a human being on our way. It was at the
head of the pass that Ibrahim Pasha defeated the advanced
guard of the Turkish army, which he afterwards put to rout
upon the plain of Konieh.
By a winding descent of some hours, we reached the level of
the sea, at the small town of Alexandretta, the port of Aleppo,
.situated in a morass, so pestftential, that it had proved fatal not
only to most of the European residents, but also to the crews
and captains of ships in the roads. We directed our steps to the
house of M. Martinelli, agent to several Aleppo merchants, and
who had succeeded in cutting a small canal, and thus, by draining
the marshes, had rendered the place, in some degree, more salu
brious. Thence we pushed on along- the coast ; for the rugged
ridges of Mount Amanus, coming down to the water, leave here
but a narrow pathway, at a short distance from the sea. This
spot was called the Cilician Gate ; and the remains of fortifications
show that the natural obstacles to the approach of an invader
were carefully strengthened. Hence the road descends into a
narrow plain, intersected by two ri"vulets, where Pococke supposes
the battle of Issus to have been fought. We then passed a rising
ground, and reached the deserted town of Payass, the ancient
Issus, where we were obliged to remain for the night.
Next day we resumed our lonely course, passing over the more
open plain to the north of the town, where it is generally.
supposed that the defeat of Darius took place. The Persian
monarch had entered Cilicia by the northern or Amanic pass,

80

THE ANCIENT ISSUS.

which here debouches into the plain on the sea-shore ; a move
ment whereby Alexander, who had advanced as far as the
Beft^n pass, found himself dangerously hemmed in, and was
compelled to retmn and attack his enemy, who, on being de
feated, fled into the interior of Asia by the same pass through
which he had advanced. Since leaving BeUan we had been

riS-^i

ARCH NEAR ISSIJS.

tracing the ground which had once witnessed the marching and
countermarching of the Grecian army ; and we were now passing
over the scene of that momentous and hard-fought engagement,
in which they routed, for the second time, the forces of the
Persian monarch. The spot now is utterly abandoned, and
traversed only by the Turcoman shepherd, inspiring a feeling of
deeper depression than even the desert itself, inasmuch as it

TARSUS. 81
bears te-aces of the former presence of a considerable population.
The insecurity of the route was notorious, until the recent
conquest of the whole country by Ibrahim Pasha.
After surveying the battle-field, and crossing the stream sup
posed to be the Pinarus, we reached the extreme north-east angle
of the Mediterranean, and shortly after came upon a portion of
the ancient Roman paved way, resembUng the Appian, across
which stood a picturesque old archway, called the Black Gate,
which, in connexion with some adjacent walls, closed up the
passage into another narrow valley through which the road
passes, and all the defensible points of which had e"ridently been
carefully fortified.
We passed the night under a solitary tree, in the midst of
a caravan, which had halted for a few hours. Long before day
light it was on its road towards Syria, while we pursued our
way through the plains of Cilicia, with Mount Taurus in the
distance, covered "with eternal snow. Leaving Messis, we reached
Adana at noon, passing over the long bridge of nineteen arches,
which besteides the river Sihoon. Here we found the advanced
guard of the Egyptian army, and reached the limits of the
counti-y subject to the power of Ibrahim Pasha, "without having
met with a single instance of annoyance (my spy adventm-e
alone excepted) during om- passage through the whole widely-
extended tract.
At noon next day, in the midst of a luxuriant plain, the
minarets of the. Turkish town of Tersoos, rising from amidst
a grove of fr-ees, backed by the lofty snow-covered crests of
Mount Taurus, showed that we were approaching the birth-place
of the great Apostle of the Gentiles, whose footsteps we had been
already foUo-wing from Antioch. On entering the town, it
became a serious question how we were to dispose of ourselves.
Mr. Barker had kindly furnished us with a letter to the English
Consul, then recently appointed ; but that functionary had not
yet reached the place. A miserable khan seemed to be our only
G

82 UNHEALTHY CLIMATE.
refuge, when we were relieved from embarrassment by the
entrance of a servant, bearing from the French Consul a pressing
in-yitation to take up our abode at his house.
M. Gillet, our worthy entertainer, of a good family in France,
had been thrice drawn for the conscription during the campaigns
of Napoleon. The first, and even the second time, his parents
had bought him off, — on the third he was compelled to serve.
He had gone through the horrors of the Russian campaign, and
had beheld the terrible scene at the bridge over the Beresina.
While so many had left their bones amidst the snows of Russia,
and others had become mere "wrecks of their former selves, he
had come off, apparently, "with an unbroken constitution, and his
cheeks were as florid, his face as un"wrinkled, and his vivacity as
unflagging, as if he had never quitted the banks of the Seine.
He seemed to bear a charmed life. Shut up in a melancholy
to"wn in a remote comer of Syria, hardly ever sought out by the
foot of a traveller, exposed to a deleterious climate, which had
proved fatal to two or three of his consular brethren, he has con
trived to outlive them all, and has been since franslated to the
more important station of Salonica.
Speaking of the unhealthy climate, I remember, some time
afterwards, meeting at dinner in Smyrna a gentleman who told
me he had just received the appointment of English Consul at
Tarsus, and who asked me what kind of place it was. I imme
diately informed him that its climate bore an unfavourable
reputation. " Ah ! " he rejoined, " if that is all, I am afteady
well aware of it. The last consul died of fever ; but I am per
fectly acclimatie, and do not entertain the slightest apprehension."
He repaired thither, and "within a twelvemonth afterwards, laid
his bones with those of his predecessor in office.
It has been said that John Bull carries his country with him
wherever he goes ; and perhaps the same may be said, -with at
least equal truth, of Jean Crapaud, In M. Gillet's house, until
one looked out of the windows, and saw the snowy crags of the

THE CYDNUS. 83
Tam-us, one might have supposed oneself in the Chause6 d'Antin.
Everything in-doors was redolent of Paris ; and not the least
pleasant part of the iUusion was the cuisine. The evening passed
in talking of European affairs, and in reminiscences of the
"grande armAe." The consul's house was a little oasis of
luxury in the midst of a desert of privation; and having for
several nights slept on the floor, I need not inform such of my
readers as have ever been in similar circumstances, what were
my sensations when I stretched my unencumbered limbs be
tween the fi-agrant sheets of a bed that would have done
honour to a chateau of the old regime, or a first-rate hotel in
the new.
On the next morning I turned my back on aU these luxuries,
to seek out the remains of what St. Paul, with a commendable
degree of patriotic, or, perhaps, rather of ci-dc pride, described as
" no mean city ; " but I was utterly unsuccessful — like those who
had gone before me — in discovering any really important relics of
ancient Tarsus, which seems to have been wholly swept away in
the numerous inroads that have desolated the country since the
faU of the Roman empire. The classic Cydnus, here some miles
from the sea, from bathing in which Alexander the Great nearly
died, and upon whose waters occurred the famous meeting of
Mark Antony and Cleopatra, once ran through the middle of the
city. It now holds its course half a mile east of the town,
through a region of gardens, in which the intermingled foliage
of the banana and the palm show that the luxuriance of the soil
at least remains unaltered. The port, formed by a large basin,
through which its waters once passed, is dried up; a bar is
stretched across its mouth, and no barque now enters its forsaken
channel. Modern Tersoos is an insignificant town ; but the
neighbouring plain furnishes considerable exports of corn, which,
with imports destined for the interior of this part of Asia, occasion
the appointment of several European consuls, who here live in a
state of enforced exile from their native land, and are glad to
o2

84 BIRTHPLACE OF ST. PAUL.
welcome an occasional traveller, as one who reminds them of the
existence of the civilized world.
Tarsus was a free city of very ancient foundation, and had not
only been raised by commerce to wealth and importance, but
had become so celebrated for learning and science, that Strabo
gives it the preference in that respect over Athens and Alex
andria. It is celebrated in history on widely dissimilar grounds.
It was visited by Alexander the Great and Julius Csesar, and
was favoured by many Roman emperors. On the waters of the
Cydnus, which was then na-vigable fi-om the sea, and flowed
through the middle of the town, took place, as we have said, the
meeting between Mark Antony and Cleopatra, of which Shak
speare has given a description at once literally true and gorgeously
poetical. Here the lovers began their career of luxurious revefty,
and Cleopatra first essayed her influence over the enslaved
Antony, by demanding the mm-der of her sister. And here, not
very long after, as if to show human nature in its extremes, was
born the great Apostle of the Gentiles. His parents were Jews,
of the sect of the Pharisees, and, as we learn fi-om himself, they
brought him up in the strictest observance of their tenets. But
though the basis of his education was Jewish, yet, ft-om his
early associations, he must have acquired, at the same time, such
a knowledge of the Greek language and literature, as singularly
to qualify him for the part he was designed by Pi-0"vidence to
fill — that of the interpreter of Christianity to the Gentile world.
His father had obtained the valuable pri"vilege of Roman citizen
ship ; and thus the Apostle was " free bom," — a circumstance
which proved of no small importance to him dm-ing his career.
In accordance with that general and commendable practice of
the Jews, which conferred independence of character and position
on every member of society, he was taught a trade, in his case
that of tent-making. At an early age he was sent from Tarsus
tfj Jerusalem, where he sat " at the feet of Gamaliel," a cele
brated teacher, and became thoroughly versed in the study of

HIS CHARACTER. 85
the Hebrew Scriptures, for his intimate acquaintance with which
he was noted by his companions. No less enthusiastic in
temperament than acute in intellect, he was early distinguished
for his zealous advocacy of the Pharisaic tenets, and for his bitter
hate-ed of the Christians.
Unable to content himself with a lukewarm acquiescence in any
system he embraced, the same fervid zeal which he had displayed
against the foUowers of the Cross, prompted him, after his
conversion, to a life of suffering and sacrifice in behalf of the
religion he had ignorantly persecuted. Yet with his daring
energy and dauntless perseverance, he combined, in a remarkable
degree, the qualities of prudence and self-command; and the tact
of adapting his instructions to the capacity or prejudices of his
hearers, without sinking, however, to unworthy compliance or
dishonourable compromise. Nor less conspicuous was the native
tenderness of his heart, rendered more exquisite by the rising
influences of Christianity, or the largeness and expansiveness
of his charity. He was a man whose heart was as open and
gentle as his mental powers were comprehensive and profound ;
one who, even had he not been assisted by di"nne interposition,
must have left the impression of his high personal qualities, and
marked himself as one of natm-e's nobility, on whatever career he
might have entered. But this is stepping, perhaps, beyond the
pro"vince of a traveller, which is to note such local circumstances
as may illustrate the events of sacred or profane history, rather
than to dwell upon those events themselves.
Paul left Tarsus a Jew, he returned to it a Christian. After
ha"ving been inteoduced to the apostles at Jerasalem, he dis
tinguished himself by " disputing against the Grecians," who
endeavoured to put him to death; upon which he was sent back
from Csesarea to his native city, where he resided until invited
by Barnabas to Antioch, to assist in the care of the church,
and to enter soon after upon his long and laborious course
of missionary labour. There is no express mention of his

86 THE apostle's MODE OF TRAVEL.
re-sisiting it, although there can be little doubt of his having
done so during his numerous journeys in Asia Minor.
It is interesting to foUow in idea the great Apostle of the
Gentiles when setting out upon these journeyings ; to figure to the
mind's eye his person and manner, and mode of fravel ; to realize
the appearance of the great cities, the scenes of his labours, then
in all their splendour ; and to understand the relative position of
the Jews and Pagans with whom he was brought into colUsion,
and from among whom his converts were collected.
St. Paul tells us, that his enemies declared of him, that " his
bodily presence was weak, and his speech contemptible," inti
mating that he possessed neither the lofty stature "rolgarly
associated with the hero, nor the oratorical artifices of a practised
teacher of rhetoric. From ancient "writers we gather that his
person was smaU, and of a type in which the inteUectual pre
dominates over the animal nature, a sheath worn out by the
sharpness of the sword within. Lucian, as Dr. Cave observes,
derisively caUs him the high-nosed, bald-pated Galilsean, that
was caught up through the air unto the " third heaven."
It would appear that his constitution was weak, and that in
carrying on his arduous missionary labours, he had continually
to struggle with the natural infirmity of the flesh.
The incessant journeyings of the Apostie were greatly faci-
Utated by the frequent and easy communication between the
different parts of the Roman world, both by land and sea.
From the capftal itself, the great paved ways, consfr-ucted with
such strength that in many places they can stiU be traced,
radiated to the extreme boundaries of the empire, and were
provided with a regular service of post-horses. There was thus
a ready and continual intercourse between the principal places in
the Empire.
The great cities of Asia Minor, so often visfted by Paul, were
then at the height of wealth and populousness, were united
by good roads, and further connected by a constant transft of

ANCIENT GREAT CITIES. 87
coasting vessels. Between Rome and Alexandria a regular
intercourse was kept up by means of those vessels which carried
supplies of corn from Egypt to Italy, some of them being of
considerable size. At no previous period, in short, had there
existed such a network of communication between the various
countries now united under the sway of Rome.
Of these facilities the Apostle and his companions availed
themselves ; sometimes travelling post by land along the high
road; at others, going humbly on foot across the country; at
others, coasting from port to port, or embarking on a lengthened
voyage, exposed to all the varieties of hardship and perft which
he has so feelingly described : — " In jom-neyings often, in perils
of robbers, in perils by mine o"wn countrymen, in perils by the
heathen, in perUs in the city, in perils in the wilderness, in perils
in the sea, in perils among false brethren."
Nothing, in St. Paul's day, could have been more classically
magnificent than one of the great cities, the ruins of which
astonish the modem teaveller. Gorgeous temples, then in all
theft pristine splendour, and adorned "with immortal sculptures,
which rose on every side ; elegant though corrupting processions,
as represented in works of art still existing, which filled the
sfreets ; the theafres, open to the sky, or covered "with a light
a"wning, crowded "with theft thousands of spectators ; the long
pUlared avenues and porticoes, of which the remains so often still
stand erect amidst surrounding desolation ; the numerous and
beautiful statues of the gods, in all the lusfr-ous sunshine of an
oriental cUmate ; even the streets of tombs themselves lining the
approach to the" city, must have presented a dazzling and imposing
spectacle to the eye of taste and refinement. Especially must the
sea-ports,' such as Seleucia or Cassarea, of which the ruinous
harbours are now -with difficulty to be traced, have been singu
larly picturesque, "with their crowds of oared galleys, their
colonnaded piers, their temples to Neptune, filled with votive
offerings. But in the mind of the Apostle, all the refinements of

88 JEWISH OPPOSITION.
art were indissolubly connected "with a debasing system of
polytheism, which it was his peculiar office to undermine, and
could only remind him the more painfully of the deep-rooted
moral corruption of the Roman world, against which he had in
cessantly to combat.
On entering with such feelings one of these splendid cities, the
Apostle and his companions would naturally address themselves
first to their o"wn brethren, the Jews, who everywhere existed
a despised and detested sect. A few of them might already have
heard of the wonderful events which had ushered in the new reli
gion, and be therefore disposed to hear further of it ; and with
some of these, while labouring to support himseft by his vocation
of tent-maker, would the Apostle take up his abode. The syna
gogue was the first place where he would venture publicly to preach
the doctrines of the Gospel. In so doing, whfte making a few
converts, he could not fail to awaken the bitterest prejudice and
hostility of the more bigotted portion of his hearers, and thus
make many enemies, and expose himself to the outbursts of their
indignant fiiry.
Sometimes, taking the law into their own hands, they would
break out into acts of murderous "violence ; and sometimes, by art
fully representing the Apostle as a despiser of the gods, they would
work upon the superstition of the Pagan populace ; at others, by
representing the Apostle as a teoubler of the pubUc peace,
endeavour to provoke the interference of the magisfr-acy. In the
last manoeuvre they were but rarely successful. The narrow and
unsocial spirit of the Jews was so peculiarly offensive to the
more enUghtened Romans, that they generally refused to interfere
in what they regarded as a contemptible dispute between rival
sects of Jews, — " a question of their own superstition," with
which the government had nothing to do.
In seeking to overthrow the dominant religion, Paul appears
to have exercised the utmost prudence, and rarely to have
involved himself in any serious difficulty with the Pagan

PAGAN INDIFFERENCE. 89
Authorities. The toleration of indifference was at that time the
principle of the Roman government. The ancient religions,
effete and undermined, were, as Gibbon says, regarded by the
people as equally teue, by the philosophers as equally false, and
by the magistrates as equally useful. So long as the votaries
of different superstitions interfered not "with one another, or
threatened to distm-b the public tranquiUity, they enjoyed a
general immunity and protection. In such a state of things,
Christianity might gradually insinuate itself and imperceptibly
grow up; nor could it atteact any serious hostility, until the
gro"wing numbers of its votaries excited the apprehensions of the
priesthood and the government. It was only by particular classes,
as the wonder-workers and diviners, or the craftsmen of Diana
of the Ephesians, that the Apostle appears to have been menaced.
His bitterest persecutors were everywhere among his 0"wn Jewish
brethren, to compass whose salvation he expresses his willingness
to become himself a " cast-away."
It may be weU to throw together a few brief notices of those
cities in Asia Minor, connected with that part of St. Paul's teavels
narrated in the thftteenth and fourteenth chapters of the " Acts."
On the fftst missionary voyage of the Apostle accompanied by
Barnabas, they sailed, as afteady observed, from Seleucia, and
after teaversing Cyprus, took their departure from Paphos to the
coast of Pamphylia, landing at or near Perga, of which city, now
utterly abandoned, there still exist considerable remains. From
thence, Mark lea-ving them to return to Jerusalem, Paul and
Bamabas next proceeded to Antioch in Pisidia. Here, as was
their wont, they entered the synagogue, and preached the Gospel
to the Jews, attracting also the notice of the Gentile inhabi
tants, who earnestly requested that the same word might be
preached to themselves.
It was here that Paul, thwarted by the factious opposition of
his o"wn counteymen, declared for the first time his intention of
turning from them to the Gentiles. The fanaticism of the Je"wish

90 CITIES VISITED BY ST. PAUL,
priests was too much for even the untfting energy of the Apostle
and his associates; they were driven from the city by theft
inte-igues ; and, " shaking off the dust of theft feet against them,"
they next repaired to Iconium.
The site of Antioch in Pisidia has lately been identified by
the Rev. Mr. Arundell as being at the modern Jalobatch, where
he found very considerable remains of its former magnificence.
It was built by the founder of the Syrian Antioch, and was a
place of considerable importance dm-ing the Seleucidan dynasty.
Arrived at Iconium, Paul and Barnabas again resorted to the
Je"wish synagogue, and made a considerable number of converts,
but were driven thence, as from Antioch in Pisidia, by the
machinations of their Jewish enemies, who stftred up the
Gentiles, and would have stoned them, had they not escaped
from the city. The modem Konieh, which occupies the site of
ancient Iconium, presents but few relics of the period of St. Paul's
"visit, though it is stiU a large and flourishing town. Its monu
ments are chiefly, if not entirely, medieval. *
On flying from Iconium, Paul and Bamabas retired to Derbe
and Lysfra, cities in the rugged mountain region of Lycaonia,
beneath the lofty ranges of the Taurus. At Lysfra occurred that
most characteristic scene, when the heathen inhabitants, excited
by witnessing a miracle wrought by Paul, exclaimed that the
" gods had come down in the likeness of men ;" and calUng Paul
Jupiter, and Barnabas Mercurius, because he was "the chief
speaker, were preparing to offer sacrifices to them, until pre
vented by their earnest enteeaties. Here, again, they were
pursued by the unrelenting malevolence of the Jews, who,
working on the ignorant apprehensions of the superstitious
multitude, brought about such a revulsion of feeling, that Paul,
after being stoned, was, by the same men who had so lately been
ready to confer on him divine honours, dragged out of the city
for dead. Recovering from this iU-freatment, he departed next
day "with Barnabas to Derbe.

EMBARK FOR ATTALLi. 91
Neither the site of this city nor that of Lysfr-a has yet been
satisfactorily ascertained. From hence, disregarding their previous
ill-usage, we find that they again "dsited the same cities, con-
fft-ming and establishing- in the faith the numerous converts they
had succeeded in making; embarking at Attalia for Antioch,
where they " abode long time with the disciples," rehearsing to
them how God had opened " a door of faith unto the Gentiles."
Such was the first missionary voyage ever undertaken to
propagate Christianity beyond the limits of Syria.
On leaving Tarsus, it had been my original design to proceed
overland to Constantinople, by way of Konieh, the ancient
Iconium, and to have "visited Derbe and Lysfra, and other places
connected "with the travels of St. Paul. A journey so long and
fatiguing was judged, however, to be xmsuitable in my weakened
state of health ; and, by M. Gillet's ad"vice, I resolved on coasting
Asia Minor, as far as AttaUa, a distance of about a hundred and
fifty mUes, and thence proceeding overland to Smyrna.
Taking leave of my excellent host, who begged me " to bear
in mind sometimes the poor exUes at Tarsus," I rode down to
the port, where I found a small open boat, which had been
afteady hfted for me by M. Gillet, but which to my dismay I found,
if possible, more "wretched even than those I had already become
familiar "with. Its crew was easUy mustered ; it consisted of but
two, one a good old Turk, the other his son, a robust fellow,
about thftty. Getting our luggage and provisions on board, we
took up the great stone, which served as an anchor, hoisted our
sail, and began to move slowly along the coast in the direction
of AttaUa.
The breezes were so light and languid, that it was not till the
next afternoon we reached Mezetlu, the ancient Solis, a city of
Rhodian origin, and, on account of its having been rebuilt by
Pompey, also called Pompeiopolis. Making fast to the ruined pier,
we landed, to examine a long avenue of columns, which stretched
in magnificent perspective towards the interior, but so overgrown

92 PAINFUL VOYAGE.
was the ground with brashwood, that it was impossible to pene
trate to any distance. A rained theatre overlooked the sea, and
the entire scene was desolate beyond description. There was no
trace of human habftation, and, save the squared stones and the
columns, everything had relapsed into the wildness of primitive
nature. The wind sank shortly afterwards to a dead calm. If to be
becalmed in a comfortable ship is horribly tedious; what is it in
a boat hardly twenty feet long, open to the sky, full of sand and
dirt, and without anything but a blanket hoisted on two poles,
to keep off the burning heat of the sun ! Hour after hour thus
passed in weariness and suffering inexpressible. That night
I was seized with fever; I soon became deUrious. Yox fiftsen
days I struggled between life and death, until at length we
reached our destination. I spare the reader a detail of the
incidents of this voyage, of which, indeed, I retain but an
indistinct recollection. I faintly recall having seen, in the
intervals of consciousness, a few ruinous castles and bold head-
lauds, around which it seemed as if we never should pass. In
the morning, some lofty promontory would loom ahead; and in
the evening, there it was again in the same position. We seemed
enchanted upon the sickly oily sea. Once or twice I remember
being carried ashore, and laid under the shadow of the ti-ees,
while the boatmen replenished our stock of water. The pft-ate
town of Alaya, hung wildly upon its cliffs, also imprinted itself
indeliby upon my recollection. I can remember struggling with
my servant to go up into it, and my fighting with him for
a bunch of grapes, which he prudently forbade me to touch ;
while the people, seeing my brain was affected, looked on with
evident pity. By the time we reached AttaUa, the fever had
entirely spent itself, but it left me so weak that they were
obliged to carry me ashore.
Woe to the "wi-etched te-aveller who is seized with sickness
in these forlorn and remote places, without any one to sympathise

RHODES. 93
with him, or show him the slightest attention; compelled to
sojourn in an empty khan, devoured with vermin, and tormented
with musquitoes ! Attalia has since proved the gra^'c of a talented
and valued countryman, and I fully expected to leave my bones
in it, to be picked by the Tiu-kish dogs. Fresh difficulties arose
also. I was here in the dominions of the Sultan ; and the
governor refused, on account of my Egyptian firman, to let me
proceed by land. This was of little consequence, however, as
I could not have borne the fatigue of the journey. On the
seventh day of my stay, my servant ran in with a joyful coun
tenance ; a cutter bound for Rhodes had just come to anchor. It
seemed as if expressly sent by Pro"vidence for our deliverance.
In less th^n an hour we were on board; and in the evening, the
melancholy Attalia faded on the distant horizon.
Since lea"ving- Tarsus, we had sailed across the sea of Cilicia
and Pamphylia, more than once traversed by St. Paul, who had
also landed at AttaUa. Perga is a little way inland, but we
could not "visit it. We still followed the same coast of Lycia,
along which we sailed towards Cos, passing at a distance Myra,
where the centurion charged with his custody " found a ship of
A.lexandria sailing into Italy, and put him therein." On the
fourth evening we were within view of Rhodes ; and on the
morrow moming — oh, joyful sight! — the magnificent bulwarks of
the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem rose round us in aU their
pride, as we cast anchor in the middle of the harbour.
On landing, I repaired to the British consulate, where I was
very kindly received by Mr. Wilkinson. Exactly opposite was
the Catholic convent, at which he advised me to take up my
abode during my stay.
The Catholic convents of the Holy Land, and other parts of
the Levant, it should be observed, are not without a certain
historical interest. Many were founded by the Greek emperors,
or in the time of the Crusades, and endowed by wealthy barons
with ample revenues, which have been also increased by the

94

THE CATHOLIC CONVENT:

contributions of pilgrims, and by coUections made in Europe.
A few are still in a flom-ishing condition, but the greater poi-tion
are sunk into indigence; and extensive bmldings, which for
merly held a considerable number of tenants, are now occupied
by only one or two. Monachism, in short, seems to be every
where on the wane.
These Levantine friars present a cm-ious medley. Among
them may be found the brightest patterns of Christian piety,
and not a few consummate hypocrites and do"wnright knaves.
Many of them, too, are most amusing originals. In rambling
about the East, where, fi-om the absence of inns, the teaveUer is
perforce obUged to take up his abode at these estabUshments, it
is odd ft he do not faU in "with a few of every class.
This convent, of which I was no"w an inmate, was the sole
reUc of the once powerful Knights of St. John of Jerusalem.
It was a massive stone edifice, which would have accommodated
a large body of fiiars, but was then inhabited but by three, who
were understood to be in a state of exteeme poverty. I was
kindly and hospitably received, instaUed in a smaU monastic
ceU, "with a teestle bed, and took my meals "with the brethren
in the conventual refectory. What "with the pure aft- and good
U"ving, I rapidly recovered my health. For poor as were my
hosts, they contrived, after aU, to subsist pretty comfortably in a
place where forty eggs may be had for a piastee, value twopence-
hal^enny, and where fine red "wine was sold at a penny a bottle.
To the superior of the convent it was impossible not to become
attached. He was a Genoese, a venerable man of eighty. His
figure was erect and noble, his eye undimmed, his countenance
open and benevolent, while his long white beard, sweeping do^n
to his gftdle, conferred on him a most reverend appearance. At
an age when the human powers are generaUy sinking into
decrepitude, he was a pattern of induste-y, and a bright exemplar
of CathoUc devotion, ily ceU happened to be next to his, and
the first thing audible in the moming, was the old man repeating

ITS "VENERABLE SUPERIOR. 95
the prayers from his Breviary. He then arose, and ringing the
convent bell, summoned his brethren to matins. As neither my
health nor inclinations admitted of my joining in this exercise,
I got up more leism-ely, and met the brethren in the refectory to
breakfast. This meal being over, I accompanied the superior to
his private apartment, where were coUected a number of children,
to whom he imparted the rudiments of education. This, how
ever, was far fi-om being his sole occupation, for, while his
pupils were conning their books, he employed himself in "writing
homUies, knitting stockings, curing tobacco, aAd carrying to
completion the manufactm-e of the large wax candles required
for the service of the church. His plan was to purchase a long
¦wick, stiffened with a single layer of tallow, and, making the
taUest of his Uttle pupils hold it up over a basin, to then clothe
it "with successive coats, by basting it with melted wax, until it
acqufted the needful thickness; and the only symptoms of
impatience I ever observed in the old man, were when, by care
lessness or fatigue, the little fellow selected for this office let fall
on the ground the end of the candle, thus breaking it in the
middle by the sudden jerk. Besides these multifarious duties,
the old man assisted in teeading out the grapes, and making the
convent "wine ; and so keen was his sight and steady his hand,
that if he saw a bftd flying across the garden, he would catch
up his gun, and rarely faU to bring it down. As my sfr-ength
retumed, and I became enabled to accompany him in his pastoral
walks, it was a pleasure to see the affectionate reverence with
which he was everywhere greeted. The chftdren ran to kiss his
hand, and receive his benediction; and on his entering the
dwelUngs of his flock, they seemed to "ne with one another in
expressions of grateful regard.
The venerable superior, as he told me, had not a single relative,
save a nephew, of whom he had not heard for years. He had
not a single earthly tie, yet he lived a life of cheerfulness and
benevolence, useful and beloved on earth, comforted and sustained

96 THE SECOND FRLAR.
by faith in a happy futurity. Would that every adherent of his
creed were an imitator of his example !
The second friar, who held the important office of conventual
cook, was a much younger man, and presented, in all respects,
a singular contrast to his superior. His gait was slouching and
indolent, and his countenance habitually wore a half-cynical, half-
sensual look. He was anything but devout, and would come
yawning out of the chapel after matins, with bitter complaints as
to the intolerable length of the ser"vice. Naturally keen and sar
castic, more shrewd than the superior, but totally destitute of the
religious sentiment, he was compelled to pass his life in the, to,
him, tedious routine of ser"vices, which he evidently regarded with
real, although unavowed contempt, and which had for him, as for
many of his order, no sustaining or elevating influences. He hated
this world without caring- much for the next, and had always an
ill-word for every one he met with. His only refuge from a vacant
and discontented spirit, was the savoury occupation in which he
had become no mean proficient; but he was not averse to im
parting a knowledge of his art, for under his auspices I learned
to make very tolerable " omelettes ; " and so satisfied did he
seem with my docUity as a pupil, that he favom-ed me with
some of his opinions, " private and confidential," one of which,
I recollect, was, that " we may contrive, if we must, to get
along without wives, but without good li"ving it is utterly
impossible to exist."
Such was the society in which I spent a month, partly to
recover my health, and partly waiting for an opportmiity of
embarking for Syra. One day, while seated at the conventual
board, there entered a personage, over fifty, tall, meagre, and
perpendicular as a post ; who, removing his broad-brimmed steaw
hat, gravely bowed to us, with all the formal politeness of the
old school. The expression of his countenance, long and deeply
furrowed by care, was rather sardonic, but wore, at the moment,
what was intended for a fascinating- smile. There was a touch

A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 97
of the petit-mattre too, in his dress and manner ; it was e"7ident
he had been somewhat of a heau in his younger days. His
frowsers, tight, and somewhat shrunken, scarcely came down to his
ankles ; pink striped stockings succeeded, and shoes. His coat
was short- waisted, with long thin tails to it; a huge watch-chain
and seals dangled from his waistcoat ; his bushy white whiskers
seemed nearly to meet across his face, and his shirt collar cut
up into the middle of his hoUow cheeks. Entermg at last upon
his business, he explained that there was now a small vessel
bound for Syra, in the harbour, in which he had taken his
passage; and learning that there was a Signor Inglese at the
convent bound to the same port, he had come to propose that we
should make our provisions for the voyage in common, in which,
from his great experience, he should be able to save me some
little teouble. I thanked him warmly; in fact, such a proposal
was just the very thing I could have -wished for. Next day,
the "wind being fair, and our preparations completed, I took
leave of the cynical cook and worthy superior. Some years
afterwards, I happened to touch at the same port, and ran to the
convent to greet my ancient acquaintances ; but the grave had
closed over the old man, and whither the other had wandered no
one knew.
In voyaging by these little Levantine boats, the passengers
are obUged to pro"vide their 0"wn food, and prepare it on deck, at
a small fire-place. Occupying the posts of honour, we had the
first tum at the cooking-place ; and it was quite a sight to see
my taU friend, regularly at noon, bending his long back, and
going through the operations of the cuisine, with a solemn
gravity worthy of Quixote himself. Seated on the deck, over
our soup and houilli, we were the best of friends, and I soon
became the confidant of some of the old gentleman's gallantries,
real or apocryphal, and also of the misfortunes which caused
him to wander about the Levant. He was, as it appeared, an
old captain of Ragusa; in the Adriatic Gulf; who had been all
H

98 QUARANTINE.
his lifetime beating about in quest of a quiet haven, yet had
encountered nothing but foul weather and scurvy treatment at
the hands of the unstable goddess, whom alone he seemed to
worship ; and was now as far from port as ever, whUe his huU
was somewhat battered by time and tempest, and his rigging
sadly out of order.
During the four days that we were saiUng through the romantic
islands of the Archipelago, not without an uneasy look out for
skuUiing pftates, my companion beguiled the time with many an
amusing anecdote and narrative ; and whatever might have been
my answer, had I been required to give a categorical opinion as
to his religious or moral character, I must frankly confess that
" I could have better spared a better man."
On reaching the island of Syra, we were immediately clapped
into quarantine, for ten mortal days, in a den swarming with
rats and every sort of abomination, of which I spare the reader
a more particular account. On coming forth, I took leave of my
entertaining fellow-teaveUer, in order to return to my home,
little expecting that I should ever faU in with him again. In
this respect, however, I was fated to be disappointed, nor was
the disappointment entftely disagreeable; but as the meeting
took place in a land but littie, ft at aU, visfted by those whose
honoured footsteps I have proposed to trace, in this instance
also I spare my reader any ftirther details.

CHAPTER III.
iLEXAUDRIA TO ATHENS — LYCABETTUS — MARs' HILL — TEMPLE OE THESEUS 
PROPYLEA — ACBOPOLIS — ¦ TEMPLE OE JUPITER — CENCHEiEA — CO RINTH —
PATRAS.
Having, on my retiu-n fr-om Egypt, an opportunity of paying
at least a hasty "visit to Greece, I took my passage in the French
Government steamer, from Alexandria to Athens. Nothing of any
interest signalized the voyage, unless I may except the passing
off the headland of Cape Salmone, on the east end of Cyprus,
mentioned in St. Paul's last voyage to Rome. We reached the
shores of Greece in the night; and when, roused from my
slumbers, I went on deck, I found we were at anchor in the
harbour of the Pftseus.
Among the miserable imitations by eastern powers, of usages
that the western are just learning to throw off, is that of the
establishment of quarantine. We had been put into confinement
in Egypt, the very land of plague, for coming from Syria, where
it was said that the disease was raging, although we had never
encountered it, and we were now again imprisoned for coming
fi-om Egypt, although it was notorious that, at that time, there
was not a single case in the country. My arrival in this glorious
land was signalized by a week's solitary confinement in the
Lazaretto of the Pirgeus.
Being at length emancipated from this " durance vile,"
I prepared to start for Athens, without a moment's loss of time.
On issuing forth, and walking round the port, I found it wearing
that look of awakening animation which then began to
h2

100 THE PEBiEUS.
characterise Greece. Subjected for centuries to the desolating
sway of Turkish despotism, her harbours empty, her fields
uncultivated, she still wore, in general, that melancholy air of
decay, so finely described by Lord Byron —
" So coldly sweet — so deadly fair.
We start — for soul is wanting there !"
Ha"ving, at length, after a long and exhausting struggle,
succeeded, although with an alien upon the throne, in achie"ving
independence, signs of life and hope were just beginning to
appear. New buildings had sprung up ; there was something
of the bustle of traffic in the port, and of acti"vity in the habits
of the people. The introduction of western usages was com
mencing ; and among other signs of improvement, was a rank of
crazy-looking vehicles, intended to imitate our cabs ; but, instead
of a sullen fellow, in a dirty-drab mackintosh, the driver was a
" gay and gilded Greek," in red jacket and cap, and white juxto-
nika, or more correctly, petticoats and leggings. SignaUing one
of these men, I entered 'his carriage, drove to the gate of the
Lazaret, took in my baggage, and turned my back upon the
Pirseus, "with a feeling of bitterness which not all its heroic asso
ciations — (I had enjoyed a -new of the scene of the battle of
Salamis for a whole week) — could succeed in driving away.
The Pirseus is the port of Athens, from which it is five miles
distant across the plain. It was connected with the city by the
two parallel long walls, as they were called, built by Themistocles,
and might thus be esteemed almost a part of the city itself
On the right of our road we had some traces of these famous
bulwarks ; and at the extremity of the long perspective towered
the brown rock of the Acropolis, crowned -with the "wrecks of the
Parthenon. The ranges of Hymettus and PenteUcus closed in
the "view. After about an hour's drive, during which time we
swallowed as much dust as dm-ing any similar period in our
remembrance, the cab rolled into the streets of modern Athens,

MODERN ATHENS. 101
and deposited us at the gate of a tolerably decent sort of French-
looking hotel.
After luncheon, I sallied forth to see a little of the town, and
also to make my way to the top of Mount Lycabettus, a lofty
cone-shaped hill, towering up in the distance, and which,
I expected, would afford an excellent view of the city and its
en"virons. There are few places so utterly disappointing, or that
so thoroughly demolish aU preconceived ideas, as Modern Athens.
Brimfull of classics and heroics, or steiving to recall the fading-
traces of early lessons, as the case may be, the traveller hurries
out of doors, and finds himself amid a maze of paltry steeets and
aUeys, resembling the faubourgs of some second-rate French
to"wn, hastily run up among the tottering ruins of the old Turkish
houses, which were infinitely more picturesque. Shabby esta-
minets and grog-houses — petty milUners' shops — stinking- reposi
tories for olives, salt-fish, and all unutterable things — or some
English warehouse for cheese and pickles and bottled porter,
kept by the ine-vdtable Brown or Smith — compose the degrading
picture. There is the same mean and mongrel look about the
population, which seems, one cannot somehow help thinking, to
comprise an unusual proportion of scamps ; and while everything
betokens a teansition from an old state of things to a new, it is
by no means e"ndent that the change is, for the present, an
improvement. Advancing from the cenfre of the town to the
suburb, the prospect brightens up a little; neat, well-built
houses, with green bUnds, and gardens, salute the eye, gi"ving
promise of a handsome city hereafter. But with all this, I could
not help "wishing that the capital of modem Greece had been
fixed either at the Pirseus, or in some other eligible place ; and
that the "wrecks of the ancient city, clear of all obstruction, had
been kept apart, as in a glass case, to receive the reverential
homage of pilgrims from all parts of the civilized world.
With the feeUng of disappointment produced by these incon
gruities, I found myself at last clear of the city, and at the foot

102 SITE OF ATHENS.
of Lycabettus, and mounted its steep ascent by a path, winding
among odoriferous shrubs. At every step the "vdew became more
expansive and glorious, and the panorama of classic localities and
mountain scenery more striking.
Seated on a fragment of rock, I beheld beneath me, opening
to the sea upon the south, the plain of Attica, surrounded by its
sheltering mountains. Immediately beneath was a dark, dense
wood, of grey olives, indicating the site of the Academy where
Plato walked "with his disciples. This extended nearly up to
the city, which requires a more detailed description, and this will,
I hope, be rendered intelligible by means of the accompanying
engraving. Nothing can be more striking, or more happily chosen, than
is the site of Athens. In the centre of the pictm-e rises the
oblong rock of the Acropolis, its crags of dark bro"wn and grey
surmounted by waUs, and cro"wned "with the ruins of the most
splendid temples in the world. The larger mass is that of the
Parthenon, — the roof and central pillars gone, but immortal even
fti ruin. To the right is seen the small temple of the Erechtheum ;
and near this spot stood on its pediment, in the days of Athenian
splendour, the colossal statue of Minerva, then towering subUme,
a sea-mark for the distant mariner, but which has long since
been thrown do"wn fi-om its pedestal, and lost in unrecognisable
fragments. Terminating the craggy hill upon the right, are the
remains of the Propylea, or entrance gateway, over which is a
lofty brown tower, erected during the middle ages, when the
Acropolis was turned into a fortress.
Just under this celebrated rock is seen a long, rugged slope,
culminating to a point, — to a Christian eye, the most memorable
spot in Athens ; for this is no other than Mars' HiU, where Paul
delivered his oration. On a gentle swell of ground at its foot, is
seen the Temple of Theseus, the most perfect, though not the
most colossal of the Athenian temples. Behind this is another
long and rocky ridge ; its sides may be seen cut into seats, and

ANCIENT ATHENS. 103
here is that famous Pnyx, or rostrum, from which the orators
delivered their spirit-stirring harangues. In the hollow between
this and Mars' Hill was the Agora, or market-place, where Paul
was disputing with the philosophers, when conducted before the
council of tiie Areopagus. This was once the very heart of
Athens, and decorated with splendid colonnades and statues ; it is
at present merely a pasturing-place for flocks. If we turn now to
the ground on the left of the Acropolis, the most prominent object
of antiquity is the colossal Temple of Jupiter, erected in the time
of the Romans ; just on the other side of which, in a deep hollow,
flows unseen the scanty sti-eam of the Ilissus. Close by the
temple appears a Uttle Gothic church, lately erected for the
EngUsh Protestants ; and thence the modern city, crouching at
the foot of the Acropolis, bends round as far as the Temple of
Theseus, and to the edge of the olive-groves of the Academy.
The whole of the objects described were enclosed within the
walls of ancient Athens, which extended as far as the foot of the
mountain upon which we are standing. If every rood of this
comparatively narrow circle is memorable, the same may be said of
the distant landscape which forms the background of the pictme.
Almost in a line "with the Temple of Theseus is seen the chief
port of the Pirasus, with which Athens was connected, as before
observed, by a double line of wall ; and thus likened to a ship
moored by two cables. It was on the rocky swell of ground to
the right of the Pirseus, that Xerxes sat to sm-vey the battle of
Salamis. Just beyond is seen the little island of Psyttalea,
where he posted a body of Persians, to cut off the Greeks, who,
as he expected, would retreat thither after their defeat ; but where
those Persians themselves were afterwards massacred by their
conquerors. The Grecian ships awaited the attack of the
Persians, who advanced from Phaleron, near the bottom of the
gulf, at which point, from the want of space, the latter were
unable to surround them with their more numerous fleet ; and
the engagement took place in the narrow channel between the

104 BATTLE OF SALAMIS.
Pirseus and the Island of Salamis, which extends its pointed peaks
along the background. It was hence that the whole population
of Athens, ha"nng taken refuge there on the approach of Xerxes,
after he had taken and ravaged the Acropolis, "witnessed, with
feelings of which we can form but a faint idea, the issue of a
conflict that was to be followed either by deliverance or death.
In the enjoyment of such a scene as this, — no less striking in
picturesque beauty than memorable in historical associations, —
it was not difficult to overlook the patchwork and incongruity
"with which it has become disfigured. Jerusalem excepted, there
is no city on earth so interesting as Athens. If, in the former,
every spot recalls to us some event memorable in sacred history,
some incident dear to us in connexion with the Founder of our
religion, — the latter can boast of ha"ving once concenteated
within its small area all the glory and the pride of human
inteUect, — of leaving behind her the priceless teeasures of Ute
rature and art, in works and monuments which have supplied
models to the world, and heroic memories which have tended to
enkindle the spirit of freedom in the breasts of all succeeding
generations. It was the height of the sickly season at Athens, and most of
the Europeans were " do"wn " "with fever. The air of the Attic
plain in autumn is heavy and unwholesome, and during the day I
found the heat exceedingly oppressive and relaxing. But the
nights were glorious ; the air then cooled by the sea breeze,
restored the wasted energies of the exhausted frame, while the
moon, being nearly at the fuU, left little cause for regret, that the
hours of direct sunlight had passed.
On one of these nights, I wended my way from the hotel,
through the sfreets of the to"wn, towards Mars' HiU. The cafes and
the wine-shops were fuU of domino players and gamblers ; while
the twanging of musical instruments, and the sound of voices,
burst forth on all sides, showing that the volatile Greeks had lost
nothing of that hereditary levity and love of amusement, which

MARS HILL. 105
has so long distinguished them from their grave neighbours the
Turks. The sound of merriment gi-adually died away as I left
the streets behind, and ascended the solitary pathway, which,
passing between the world-famed HiU and the AcropoUs, leads
up to the summft of the latter. Here I turned off to the right,
and passing across the vacant site of the Agora, found myself in
a few moments at the foot of a flight of steps, cut deeply in the
stony side of the hiU. At the top of these steps, and also hewn
in the rock, is a level platform, "with a stone bench around it;
steps, bench, and aU, picturesquely corroded by the tooth of time,
but yet plainly indicating theft original destination. By those
steps, Paul had been led up from the Agora, or market-place
below, where he was disputing with the Epicureans and Stoics.
On that bench sat the Council of Areopagus, before whom he
was summoned ; grouped on the rocks around, were the listening
phUosophers, "with doubt and derision on their countenances;
and on that platform imdoubtedly stood the Apostie himself, while
he deUvered to them his memorable oration.
The place was quite soUtary; only a few goats browsing quietly
about the Agora below. It was almost startling to find oneself
alone, and seated on such a spot. The moon rising over the
lofty crags of the AcropoUs and the wrecks of the Propylea,
shone brightly upon the rocky platform, defining, in the most
telling manner, its every chink and cre"vice. The Agora was sunk
in the shadow cast from the Acropolis. Everything around in the
immediate neighbourhood was still and solemn; but Ughts
gleamed in the "windows of the town below, and sfrains of
revelry rose from it fitfully, and died away again. The Gulf of
Salamis was silvered over, and the dark grove of the Academy
and the encircling mountains loomed faintly in the distant moon-
Ught. There is no spot about the identity of which there can be less
doubt than this, and in none, perhaps, is so little effort required
to figure the minutest details of the incident connected "with it.

106 PAUL DN mars' hill.
Paul had just landed at the Pirseus on his arrival from Berea,
and after passing through the careless crowd thronging the
long connecting road, had entered the city by its seaward gate.
Athens, although she had then lost her political independence,
and become subject to Rome, yet retained the magnificent
monuments for which she had become renowned ; but these were
aU of them connected with ' that polytheism which, undermined
and tottering as it was, had been carried. to such a pitch, that it
was proverbially, said, "it was .easier in Athens to find a god
than a man." On aU sides arose temples and votive altars, "with
theft crowds of worshippers ; '.' the whole city seemed given up to
idolatey." Though the great masters of -the schools were de
parted, the porticos of the market-place were still the resort of the
philosophers ; while everywhere swarmed " the volatile and lively
populace, who " spent all their time in nothing else but either to
tell or to hear some new thing." .The spirit of the Apostle was
stirred within him — ^he mingled in this restless throng, and began
to preach Christ to a -curious and eager auditory. While thus
engaged, he encountered some of the Epicm-eans and Stoics.
" What wiU this babbler say?" demanded some. " He seemeth
to be a setter forth of strange gods," was the derisive reply of
others. They then hurried him up the stone flight of steps to
the summit of Mars' HiU, where the council of Areopagus were
at the time in session.
With eager curiosity, not unmingled with a shade of contempt,
they then demanded, of the Apostle, " 3Iay we know what this
new doctrine whereof thou speakest is ? " It was now that Paul,
" standing in the midst of the HiU," and pointing, as he spoke,
to the lofty temples of the AcropoUs, shining with gold and silver,
and the great statue of Minerva, arrayed in all but superhuman
beauty, which towered above their heads ; declared to them, for
the fft-st time, the God " who dwelleth not in temples made with
hands," nor "is like unto gold and silver, or stone graven by
art or man's de-yice" as the -ralgar weakly believed, — whose natiu-e

M

\wy

ATTIC ITGS. 107
and attributes all the speculations of their vaunted philosophy
had failed to bring to light; a God unlike the passive deity of the
Epicurean, indifferent to the fate of his own children, or the
Pantheistic principle of the Stoics, in which the Creator is con
founded with the creature iu one crushing system of fatality —
but one who is represented as a tender Father, " in whom we live,
and move, and have our being," — who sustains us dm-ing the
present life, and will receive us in that which is to come.
A doctrine so stupendous, yet so simple, might well startle the
pride and prejudice of the philosophers. At the mention of the
resurrection, " some mocked ;" others, equally incredulous, but
more courteous, promised the Apostle " to hear him again of this
matter." This discourse, however, was not without its fruits,
and in the conversion of Dionysius, one of the Areopagites,
and others, was laid the foundation of the future Church in
Athens. Such was the momentous incident narrated by the evangeUst,
with all those graphic touches and local allusions which convey the
most "vivid impression of reality, here confirmed and heightened
by the exact conformity of his narrative to every surrounding
object. A basket of Attic figs was placed among the more substantial
ingredients of breakfast next morning, and fully maintained their
ancient reputation. A more thorough exploration of the city
than we had attempted the day before, was now proposed, and
under the guidance of a Greek valet de place, we set out on what
promised to be a deUghtful morning's work.
The "view fi-om Mount Lycabettus, already described, will give
the reader as well, if not better than a map, an idea of the
course we followed. Our guide first led us to the Temple of
Theseus, the most perfect in preservation of all the Athenian monu
ments. This building, as we leam from Dr. Wordsworth, was
commenced under the auspices of Cimon son of Miltiades, four
years after the battle of Salamis, just before the occurrence of

108

TEMPLE OF THESEUS.

which, it will be remembered, Xerxes destroyed the city. " It is
a singular cftcumstance, and weU worthy of observation, that one
of the first acts of the Athenians, on their return to Athens, after
their temporary banishment to Salamis and Troezen, was to
restore theft- national hero, Theseus, who had been exiled by theft

TEMPLE or THESEUS,

ancestors, to his 0"wn city. His remains were brought by Cimon
from the island of Scyros, the scene of his banishment and death,
to this place ; and as the Athenians were now beginning to erect
for themselves a new and magnificent city, and to adom it "with
public bmldings of great splendour, they at the same time raised
for him this noble structure, in which he is bm-ied as a man, and
worshipped as a god." It might be heresy ; but this building did
not appear to possess any ste-iking grandeur ; perhaps the Doric
order requftes a larger scale to bring out effectively the majestic
character of its architecture. It is now converted by the Greek
govemment into a museum of antiquities.
Our path was up the hollow vaUey, between Mars' HiU and an

THE PNYX. 109
opposite ridge of rock, formerly comprised within the city, but
now covered -with flocks of goats. The place looked a mere wild
mountain side, nor was there anything to indicate that it had
ever been otherwise, until our guide led us to a portion of the
rocky hUl, hewn into a large area, and cut into ranges of steps.
This was the Pnyx, or place of public assembly for the people.
Projecting fr-om the cenfre is a platform with steps, called the
Bema, fi-om which the orators delivered those exciting harangues
which " -wielded at will that fierce democracy."
Nothing could have been more grand or inspiring than the
scene around. In fi-ont, towered the Acropolis, with the gorgeous
Parthenon, Mars' Hill, the Temple of Theseus, the Attic plain,
and its defensive mountains. Behind was the Pirseus, and the
Guft and Island of Salamis, objects to every Athenian mind
invested "with a train of pafriotic associations which at once,
inspired the orator, and fumished him with a continual supply
of local aUusions to enkindle or inflame the feehngs of his
auditors. But the spot where Pericles and Demosthenes, with
the electric touch of enthusiasm, heretofore moved as one man
those vast assemblies, is now entirely abandoned to the shepherd
and his wandering flock.
It should be remarked that we have described the Bema
as it was originally placed, higher up the hill, the present site
not commanding a view of Salamis, this alteration having been
made in the degenerate days of Athens. Under an altered state
of things, it was no longer desftable to appeal too sfr-ongly to
the pateiotism of the people.
After "^siting the prison of Socrates, — another traditional
memento of the past, situated in the same Une of cliffs, — ^we
reached the base of the Acropolis, which we ascended by a path
way winding among the remains of walls and ruinous buildings.
It is difficult, at the present day, to form any adequate idea oi
the glorious beauty of the place in its state of original perfec
tion. Battered by cannon, encumbered by mediseval and Turkish

110 THE PROPYLEA.
edifices, it was, a short time ago, hardly recognisable ; but since
Greece has become independent, the government has laboured
¦with praiseworthy assiduity to collect the precious fragments of
ancient art, and disencumbering them of rubbish, to replace
them carefully in theft former position, thus endeavouring to
obtain for the AcropoUs, and its edifices, some approximation,
at least, to their original state. The value of such persevering
labours, may, in some degree, be judged of by the accompanying
view of the Propylea.
Let us, with Dr. Wordsworth, imagine ourselves at Athens, in
the days of Pericles, and " joining the splendid procession of
minstrels, priests, and victims, of horsemen and of chariots,
which ascended to that place, at the quinquennial solemnity of
the great Panathensea. Aloft, above the heads of the te-ain, the
sacred Peplos, raised, and stretched like a sail upon a mast,
waves in the air ; it is variegated "with an embroidered tissue of
battles, of giants, and of gods ; it wiU be carried to the temple
of the Minerva Polias in the citadel, whose stateie it is intended
to adorn. In the bright season of summer, on the twenty-eighth
day of the Athenian month Hecatombseon, let us mount "with
this procession to the western slope of the Acropolis. Toward
the termination of its course, we are brought in front of a colossal
fabric of white marble, which crowns the brow of the steep, and
stretches itself from north to south, across the whole western
front of the citadel, which is about one hundred and seventy
feet in breadth.
" The centee of this fabric consists of a portico sixty feet broad,
and formed of six fluted columns of the Doric order, raised upon
four steps, and intersected by a road passing- through the midst
of the columns, which are thirty feet in height, and support
a noble pediment. From this portico two wings project, about
thirty feet to the west, each having three columns on the side
nearest the portico in the centre.
" The architectural mouldings of the fabric glitter in the sun

mi

TEMPLE OF VICTORY. Ill
"with brilliant tints of red and blue ; in the centre, the coffers of
its soffits are spangled with stars, and the antse of the wings are
fr-inged with an aziu-e embroidery of ivy-leaf.
" We pass along the avenue, lying between the two central
columns of the portico, and through a corridor leading from it,
aud formed by three Ionic columns on each hand, and are
brought in front of five doors of bronze ; the central one, which
is the loftiest and broadest, being immediately before us.
" This structiu-e, which we are describing, is the Propylea, or
Vestibule of the Athenian citadel. It is built of Pentelic
marble. In the year B. C. 437, . it was commenced, and was
completed by the architect, Muesicles, in five years from that
time. Its termination, therefore, coincides very nearly with the
commencement of the Peloponnesian war.
" After a short pause, in order to contemplate the objects round
us, we teirn to explore the gallery, adorned with the paintings of
Polygnoteis, in the left wing of the Propylea; and to "visit the
Temple of Victory on our right, which possesses four Ionic
columns on its western, and four at its eastern end, thus being
approached by two facades, and whose frieze is sculptured with
fig-ures of Persians and Greeks fighting on the plains of Marathon."
Such was the scene of architectural grandeur which then rose
on the view of the great Apostle, a scene of which, even in its
present fragmentary condition, some idea may be formed, by
comparing the description with the actual representation of the
spot. The flights of steps, by which the gorgeous procession
advanced, appear half extricated from superincumbent rubbish ;
the centeal columns, with the great doorway, and one of the
-wings, may be distinctly made out. The Parthenon appears in
the background. On the right hand, upon a lofty platform of
masonry, stands the small, but elegant Temple of Victory, sur
mounted by a lofty tower, erected during the middle ages. The
history of the temple is really curious. It was visited and
described by early travellers, and then suddenly disappeared, so

112 THE PARTHENON.
that no one was able to discover a trace of it until after the
establishment of Grecian independence. On making research
about the site, it was found that the Turks had taken down the
building, to make way for some other object; but with so much
care, that the stones ha"ving been collected and built up, it has
now resumed, to a great degree, its original character of deUcate
and refined beauty.
Through this noble approach we enter the interior of the
Athenian Acropolis, and the Parthenon and the Erectheum are
at once before us. Of these edifices, I shall not, however,
attempt a detailed description, since, to add anything to the
volumes already "written concerning them, -without the aid of
numerous illustrations, would be altogether useless Suffice it to
say, that in the prime expression of inteUectual beauty, the
Parthenon far surpasses any other ruin in the world.
The injury caused by the explosion of a Venetian shell, is in
some measure being repaired by the labours of the Greek govem
ment, who are collecting and buUding up again the scattered
fragments, as far as practicable. Yet, although this sort of
restoration may be more satisfactory to the architect, it can
scarcely be so to the Archseologist ; and it may be questioned,
whether it does not proportionally impair that effect of ruined
grandeur, which the accidents of time and warfare have rendered
so unspeakably impressive.
Our afternoon's walk was through the town, to hunt out the
few but exquisite fragments of Greek art, samples of what ancient
Athens must have been in her perfection, at present embedded
among the maze of "wretched edifices which compose the modei-n
city. Of these last, the most detestable is undoubtedly the
palace of King Otho — of huge dimensions, and of workhouse-
like contour — ^placed in a conspicuous position, where unhappily
it cannot be got out of sight, but enters into and defaces every
combination of the landscape. The reader will then, it is hoped,
pardon the artist for having taken the liberty to leave this

TEMPLE OF JUPITER OLYMPIUS. 113
abominable eyesore out of the different views. The gems of
Athenian art to which our attention was directed, the Tower of
the Winds, and Lanthorn of Demosthenes, are so well known, and
have been so often imitated in modern edifices, that we shall not
delineate them here. Lea"ving the boundaries of the recent
buftdings, and the small Gothic Chm-ch erected by the English
for the celebration of the Protestant worship, we gained the open
ground beyond, and paused to take a parting glance at the
remaining magnificence of the ancient city.
Om- seat was upon a bold foreground, composed of masses of
rock, half buried in "wild flowers ; and immediately beneath was
seen the scanty stream of the Ilissus, coming down from Mount
Hymettus, which, near this spot, is joined by the fountain
CalUrhoe, the only spring at Athens. Wild as it may now
appear, all this space was formerly enclosed within the walls.
A few figm-es are crossing the stream, and ascending the bold ridge
of ground upon which, on a lofty terrace, are the stupendous ruins
of the temple of Jupiter Olympius. This building, we learn
from Dr. Wordsworth, was commenced by Pisistratus, and re
mained unfimished for six hundred years, becoming a byeword for
productions of Uterature, which had been left unfinished by
theft origftial authors. Thus Plato's great philosophical work,
the Atlantis, of which, in the lively and fanciful language of
Plutarch, the portico and peristyle were erected by that philo
sopher, but to which the cotta and roof were never added, is
compared by the Chseronsean moralist to the structure of the
vast and unfinished Olympeum, which is now before our eyes.
Sixteen only, out of upwards of an hundred columns, once
composing this vast edifice, now remain, and, standing isolated
as they do, and of dimensions so prodigious as to seem the
work of superhuman power, the spectator cannot look up to
them without a feeling of awe. In one of the gaps between
the scattered columns of this mighty temple, is seen the slender
looking fa9ade of the arch of Hadrian, so fragile as to excite
I

114 STATE OF THE GREEK CHURCH.
our wonder at its having outlived the ages that have hurled so
many mighty temples into ruin. In the background, tower the
huge grey rocky spurs, or buttresses, of the Acropolis, inacces
sible on this its eastern side, and surmounted by the golden-
tinted columns of the Parthenon. This is, perhaps, the most
impressive, though not the most historical, "new of the whole.
Our glance at Athens has necessarily been brief, and confined
to its general features,, especially in reference to the more salient
and well-kno"wn incidents of its history. One subject, however,
claims a few words, and that is, the present state of Christianity
here, where it was first preached by St. Paul. The condition of
the Greek Church is, indeed, elsewhere in the Levant, sadly
degraded, displaying less of the "vital spirit of the religion than
of the narrow-minded bigotry into which its profession has so
often degenerated, in times when the moral and political state of
a people have sunk to a low ebb. The centuries of Turkish
misrule and oppression have still left theft brand upon the
character of the Greeks, while their religion has received a corre
sponding taint, and is in that unhealthy condition which must
exist where 'the- education of the people has been neglected.
The exertions of Messrs. Hill and King, and their wives,
(American Missionaries,) in promoting especially the improve
ment of the Greek- women, merit the highest encomium ; and,
though temporarily interfered "with by the narrow and timid
policy of the priesthood, it is to be hoped the impulse given "will
not be lost, especially since Greece has now received the means
of gradually working out, through manifold difficulties, her 0"wn
political and social regeneration.
My time here having expired, I returned to the Pft-seus,
and finding a small boat about to cross the gulf to Corinth,
took my place on board of her, in the midst of a considerable
number of passengers, mostly of the peasant class, and at sunset
was saUing out of the harbour into the open gulf. The tomb of
Themistocles was on the left, and the hill upon which Xerxes

CENCHKEA. 115
sat when he witnessed the discomfiture of his fleet, on the right,
while the waters through which our barque was cutting her way
were the same on which the Greek and Persian armaments had
closed in deadly conflict. The long island of Salamis relieved
dark against the western sky; and as we ran past with the
flowing sail which these Greek boats always carry, he&Yj gusts
of wind came do"wn from between its serrated peaks, and made
us roll uncomfortably in a heap to leeward. Wrapt in my cloak,
I slept, like the rest, on deck ; and, on awaking at early dawn,
found that we were just running into the harbour of Cenchrea.
Cenchrea was formerly the port of Corinth, on the eastern side
of the isthmus, and must have been a place of no small import
ance ; it now consists merely of a few poor houses, in one of
which — a wine-shop — we recruited om-selves with bread and eggs
and a cup of coffee, and then hired horses to convey us across
the isthmus to Corinth. It was at Cenchrea that St. Paul, or,
as others contend, his companion, Aquila, " shaved himself,
having a vow." About half-way across the isthmus, a beautiful
reteospective view is obtained of the port and the Gulf of Athens.
Here, also, the mighty rock of the Acrocorinthus, which had
been our landmark as we approached the shore, now stood out
before us "with the most commanding grandeur, swelling up
from the plain to an elevation of two thousand feet, and casting
an immense shadow completely across the isthmus. The Acro
poUs of Athens — a mere molehill in comparison — is indebted to
art for the perfection of beauty which it once presented; but
here, it is Nature herself who has reared this stupendous citadel,
over which the revolutions of ages pass powerless away. Nearly
three thousand years have elapsed since this natural fortress was
fixed upon, under the title of the Acrocorinthus, as the citadel of
the city of Corinth, which grew up around its base.
As we pursued our way, we encountered files of peasantry,
the men arrayed in the gay jacket and juxtonilla, or in rough
sheepskin cloaks, and the women wearing a flat head-dress of
I 2

116 CORINTH.
white cotton, resembUng that of the Roman females. Flocks of
goats were browsing about the wild expanse of bro"wn heath ;
but it was pleasant to see that Agriculture was reassuming her
dominion, and that large stretches of bright green com were
extending around the little "tillages, rising from the ashes to
which their predecessors had been reduced, during the war of
independence. Corinth owed its importance to its pecuUar situation, com
manding the remarkable isthmus which extends from the
Saronic Gulf to the Corinthian. From the citadel of the Acro
corinthus, two long defensive waUs enclosed the city, and
connected it with its port upon the western gulf, caUed the
Lechseum ; while a road, as at the present day, communicated
"with Cenchrea and its harbour in the Saronic Gulf. Com
manding thus the commerce of both the east and west, and also
the passage from the north to the south of' Greece, it naturally
became proverbial for the opulence of its inhabitants, being sm--
named the Wealthy. These advantages it retained long after
the faU of Grecian independence. Destroyed by the Romans, it
had been again rebuilt and colonised by them; and "when
St. Paul repaired thither from Athens, had become, to adopt the
description of Milman, "the common emporium of the eastern
and western di"dsions of the Roman empfte, the Venice of the
Old World, in whose streets the continued sfream of commerce,
either flowing from or towards the great capital of the world out
of all the eastern territories, met and crossed." Its population,
atfracted by the pursuit of gain, was the most cosmopoUtan in
aU Greece ; toleration, or rather indifference to religious systems,
prevailed, the minds of the citizens being absorbed in the eager
pursuit of gain, and the unbridled appetite for pleasm-e. It was
here, as elsewhere, the fanaticism of the Jews that persisted in
dragging the Apostle before the civil authorities of the place.
They hurried him to the tribunal of Gallic, the Roman proconsul,
and who, in tum, drove them contemptuously away; — one of

.1

^^

VIEW FROM THE ACROCORINTHUS. 117
those scenes in the Acts of the Apostles stamped with so vivid
and lifelike a character that, in reading, wc seem transported
into the very midst of the actors. Here Paul sojom-ned for
a considerable time, and from hence he addressed his Second
Epistle to the Thessalonians. The universal depravity of morals
at Corinth may be gathered from the tenom- of his two epistles,
afterwards Avritten to the converts he had made in that city.
On reaching the site of Corinth, and looking around, there
was nothing- to delay our progress for a single hour. The town
had been bm-nt during the war with the Turks, and a few mean
buildings were just beginning to Uft up their heads among the
blackened ruins. The only remains of former splendour were
a few Doric columns, in very bad style, forming part of a temple.
We put up the horses at a small "wine-house, and, taking
a guide, set off to ascend the Acrocorinthus, which we found to
be a more fatiguing task than we had anticipated. The eastern
side of the rock being absolutely inaccessible, the path is
up the western side, and passes through different gateways,
until it reaches the principal inclosure, which is of very con
siderable extent, foi-merly comprising some mosques and a small
town, aU fallen into ruin. Recruiting ourselves with a draught
from the cold and limpid fountain of Pirene, we stood, at length,
upon the topmost crest.
The -view was so strikingly magnificent, as amply to repay
the toil of the ascent. The first object that attracted our attention
was the irregular summit of the rock itself, defended by an
ancient waU, which foUow^ all its indentations and hollows.
From this bulwark the eye plunges sheer down eighteen hundred
feet upon the isthmus below, connecting together the two gulfs.
That on th^ right, the Saronic, is open, and expands towards its
mouth, dotted over with islands, among which that of Salamis is
strikingly conspicuous, and beyond, in the clear atmosphere, may
be discerned the Acropolis of Athens, backed by the lofty range
of Hymettus.

118 SAIL FOR PATRAS.
The other gulf, the Corinthian, is here more narrow, resembling
a lake hemmed in by lofty mountains, but graduaUy opening to
the westward, where the snowy summit of Pamassus is seen, afar
off, towering above the rugged fastnesses of Delphi. The isthmus
itself, the peculiar featm-e of the scene, is about five miles broad,
partly level, and partly hilly ; a defensive wall, thro"wn do"wn,
and built up again in different ages, once ran across it ; and a canal
was also commenced in the time of Nero : teaces of both these
works still remain.
Like so many other scenes in Greece, the view from the
Acrocorinthus is grand, but mo"arnful. The sea is stiU azure, as
of old; the mountains stiU rise in all theft flo"wing beauty of
outUne and purple loveliness of colour ; but where are the ships
that crowded the two harbours, fi-om the eastern and western
seas ; the busy thousands, who might once have been seen toiling,
emmet-like, across the Isthmus, or repairing to its celebrated
games; the shining city with its swarming suburbs; the
numerous "viUages which dotted the highly cultivated plain?
All this has passed away, and there is only just that sprinkling
of life that seems rather to deepen than relieve the melancholy of
the vast and vacant area which Ues outsfretched in"corpse-Uke
stillness below.
The Acrocorinthus comprising nearly all that is interesting in
this locality, there was nothing left after descending from it, but
to refresh om-selves, and continue our route. We took the road
around the head of the gulf, and passing the haft-obliterated
remains of the amphitheatre, reached a little port or shelter for
boats, romantically situated near some hot springs, and com
manding a splendid -dew of the rock.
A small vessel was lea"ving for Patras, our passage soon taken,
and at sunset we were sailing down the gulf. The breeze was
prosperous, and the night so soft and mild, that it was far
pleasanter to sleep on deck wrapped up in a mantle, than en
counter the closeness of the cabin. Next day we were abreast

MARTYRDOM OF ST. ANDREW. 119
of the magnificent ranges of Delphi, surmounted by the snow
capped crest of Parnassus. Anchoring- at Vostizza the next
morning, our bark had reached the mouth of the gulf; and
Lepanto rising on its rock, formed a striking- object ; recalling
the famous sea-fight between the Turks and Christians, in which
Cervantes was taken prisoner.
Shortly afterwards we landed on the quay at Patras. The
-new, as we approached, was characteristic of the present state of
Greece. Under the extensive walls of a mediseval chateau, were
clustered a range of buildings, some of them mere hovels, but
others which, by their superior construction, betokened increasing
commerce and wealth. There was a considerable quantity of craft
in the roads, and much bustle on the pier ; while groups of
idlers flaunting- in jacket and juxtonilla, or v/rapped in shaggy
capotes, were speculating- upon the character of the new arrivals.
At Smyrna one hears of nothing but figs ; at Patras, the souls
of the inhabitants are buried in currants, which are grown all
round the neighbourhood. Unless the faaveUer is interested in
this subject, there is absolutely nothing else except the castle, of
any interest, either ancient or modem.
Yet there is one event of interest, connected with the place ; it
is traditionally believed that here St. Andrew suffered martyrdom.
The fisherman of Bethsaida, after labouring in Scythia, and
on the remote borders of the Euxine Sea, and planting the
Gospel in Byzantium, came by way of Thrace and the northern
parts of Greece to Patrse, then the maritime capital of Achaia,
where ^geas was then proconsul. Here he laboured with such
effect that multitudes embraced the new religion ; even the wife and
brother of the proconsul being among the converts. Enraged at
this defection, and having laboured in vain to induce the Apostle
to discontinue his teaching, .Mgeaa caused him to be crucified,
by attaching his body to the cross with ropes instead of nails.
He hung thus "two days in lingering agony before he expired.
The cross upon which he was crucified is said to have been in

120 A TRADITION.
the form of the letter X, hence usually known by the name of
St. Andrew's Cross. His body was taken do"wn, and after being
embalmed, was honourably interred by a wealthy lady.
"As for that report of Gregory, Bishop of Tours," says
Dr. Cave, " that on the anniversary day of his martyrdom there
was wont to flow from St. Andrew's tomb a most fragrant and
precious oil, which, according to its quantity, denoted the
scarceness or plenty of the follo"wing year ; and that the sick
being anointed with oil, were restored to their former health, —
I leave to the reader's discretion to believe what he please of it.
The body of the martyr was afterwards removed to Constanti
nople by Constantine the Great, and buried in the great church
which he had buftt to the honour of the Apostles ; which being
taken down some hundred years after, by Justinian the emperor,
in order to its reparation, the body was found in a wooden coffin,
and again reposed in its proper place."

CHAPTER IV.
SEJ-URN TO SYRIA — CONSTANTrBrOPLE — THE PLAGUE — ASSOS — SMYRNA — COS 
CYPRUS — ^BEYROUT — CiESAREA — JERUSALEM, A5D ITS ENVIRONS.
Some years after my disappointment at not seeing Jerusalem,
though almost within a day's walk of it, I found myself, by one
of those singular chances that occm- but rarely in life, actually on
the way a second time performing a pilgrimage to that city.
My route this time was through Germany and the Danubian
principaUties, then rife -with rumours even more alarming than
those of war.
To run with one's eyes open into a hot-bed of " the plague,"
even the boldest must admit to be an act of somewhat culpable
rashness ; and yet that name of terror was sounding in our ears
all the way to Constantinople. Everybody affirmed that it was
still raging at Stamboul, and, what was really alarming, in the
European quarter of the city, where we should necessarily have
to put up. Not even the spectacle of indescribable splendour
which opened around us as we anchored in the port of Constan
tinople could render us insensible to the obvious peril; and as we
stood on the deck of the steamer, and looked upon the dense and
dirty population of Galata, through which we were destined to
elbow our way, we felt half-disposed to follow the example of a
certain fraveller, who was so enraptured with the -new of the
city from the water, that he would on no account weaken his
impression by any rash investigation of its interior.
Overcoming this craven reluctance, we got into a caique, and

122 THE PLAGUE.
were deposited upon the quay with our goods, which were built
up like a wagon-load upon the shoulders of a stout Turkish
porter; and pushing through the filthy street, and filthier popu
lation, from whom we endeavoured to keep clear, we ascended
to the boarding-house of Madame Babiani at Pera. The good
lady came out to receive us, — assured us that the plague was
still lingering, — enumerated certain dismal and recent casualties
in her immediate "vicinity, — and urged us to submit to a pre
cautionary process of fumigation. Accordingly, we stepped
into a sort of watch-box, at the bottom of which were bars to
stand on, and under them a pan of burning charcoal, together
with some disinfecting odour, with which, the door being closed,
we were more than half suffocated. On walking up-stairs, and
looking out of the "window, we found the situation, if hazardous,
was at all events " convenient " to a neighbouring cemetery,
which had already received very numerous and recent additions,
as we perceived from the fresh clods which seemed scarcely to
conceal their foul and festering burden. A still more dismal
e"vidence was immediately beneath us. In the court of an
unfinished house cowered the pale "wrrecks of a family, from
which the scourge had swept away more than half its members,
the rest looking fearfully wan and attenuated, and as though
theft recovery were hopeless. They were put into the steictest
quarantine, and appeared entirely abandoned to their miserable
fate. When we went forth into the street we were furnished
"with sticks, to keep at a respectful distance any reckless passenger
with whom we might otherwise come in contact; but there was
little occasion to use them; every man seemed alarmed at the
approach of his fellow, closely hugging the opposite wall, or, as
it might be, darting nervously into the middle of the narrow
causewa.y. A feeling of terror seemed to brood over the plague-
haunted neighbourhood of Pera.
And thus it continued for some days after our arrival. It was
impossible to throw off the contagious melancholy "with which

DOCTOR BULARD. 123
every one was more or less infected. At dinner, with the
inmates of the boarding-house, indeed, we contrived to be gay,
and keep one another in countenance. We passed round the
Greek wine, and affected to laugh at our predicament ; but, with
our retiring to rest would com.e nightmare visions of horrible
ulcers and sores, and pains intolerable — of a death among indif
ferent sfrangers, " who would bring your coffin," as some one
says, " as unconcernedly as your breakfast," — and a carnival
feast over om- ill-bm-ied bodies by the hungry dogs of the
quarter, which made their loathsome haunt in the contiguous
cemetery, and kept up half the night what might weU seem, in
om- nervous mood, a howling for the possession of our remains.
Day after day we heard of some Frank physician who had
paid "with his life the forfeit of coming rashly into contact with
his patients. But one of them, a Doctor Bulard, seemed to bear
a charmed Ufe. He had intently devoted himself to studying
the disease, and alle"nating the woes of those afflicted with it
during the recent plague at Smyrna, and had received the thanks
of the pubUc authorities for his exertions. Whether he had
some secret for warding off its deadly contagion, or had no pre
disposition to take it, or whether he had made a compact with
the E"nl One, no one seemed to have a very clear idea; one
thing was certain — he went fearlessly into the midst of danger
wherever his ser"nces were required. Yet he could hardly have
been a non-contagionist, for to him Constantinople owes the
fftst establishment of a quarantine; a concession he obtained of
the late Sultan, whose liberal ideas and numerous innovations,
whfte they procured him the respect of the Europeans, caused
him to be looked upon with suspicion and dislike by orthodox
Moslems. A building was also appointed him for the purpose
of a plague hospital, the " Tower of Leander," sta,nding upon
a small island in the midst of the rapid current of the Bosphorus,
midway between Europe and Asia. To this spot I occasionally
repafted -with the doctor, and never shall forget the frightful

124 TURKISH FATALISM.
appearance of certain of his patients, as they were carried from
the boats into the lazar-house appointed for them.
This first establishment of a quarantine at Constantinople is
remarkable for one thing, — its practical infringement of the old
Turkish principle of fatalism. The Moslems are no metaphy
sicians, nor do they puzzle themselves about reconciling liberty
and necessity. To them all things are equally from God, — and
with this wholesome con-viction they have ever displayed the
utmost practical resignation to his will, and esteem it a flying in
the face of Providence to seek to ward off any of its visitations.
This, combined with their natural inertia, lent wings to the
pestilence, instead of staying its frightful course. As no sort
of precaution was observed in attending the sick, entire families,
in their fearless self-devotion, were successively carried to the
cemetery. Their infected garments, instead of being destroyed,
were taken to the bazaar, and sold; the purchasers, in their
tum, became victims ; and thus the disease passed on from one
to another, until, like the raging fires that so frequently sweep
over the hills of the city, it found nothing more to feed upon.
To combat this infatuation was no easy task for the Sultan.
It was necessary to put forth a long and curious ordinance, in
which all the resources of casuistey were employed in proving to
the unwilling Moslems, that to take precautions against the
e"vils that Providence aUows, is not iireconcilable with a teue
submission to its will ; and that the religion of the Koran was
neither advanced nor recommended by this wholesale and
voluntary extermination of its professors. The Turks were
sUenced, but not satisfied; they obeyed, but shook their heads,
with a feeling, no doubt instinctive, that the inteoduction of
a new system of ideas would be the death-blow of the old; and
that the wedge of innovation once fairly inteoduced, the whole
fabric of the Koran would ere long totter to its foundations.
But to return. The sense of danger is soon blunted by expo
sure to it — we began to tire of this strict precaution ; time was,

THE BAZAAR. 125
moreover, slipping away, and Stamboul had yet to be explored.
One fine morning, we determined to cross the harbour which
separates the Em-opean from the Turkish quarters. The sun
shone out so brightly upon the rippling waters and the flitting
safts that animated them, the mosques and minarets glittered
so sharply against the sunny sky, the thousand and one objects
that make up the fascinations of this unequalled scene were all
so lustrously relieved — such was the multitude of careless pas
sengers which poured over the bridge in seemingly endless file,
Uke that of Mftza, that we could hardly realize the fact of " the
pestUence which walketh in darkness " ha"ving so recently carried
off its thousands of "victims, and being probably even now lurking
in the closer recesses of the city. Precaution was gradually
relaxed — our sticks were put less and less into requisition — we
rubbed first against one and then against another, and, the ice
being once broken, in a few moments plunged recklessly into
the thick of the motley population.
Follo"wing the li"nng stream through a succession of narrow
steeets, picturesque with mosques and fountains, we soon arrived
at the bazaar. This, like that of Damascus, afteady described, is
the gathering-place of aU the moving population — the seat of
teaffic, and the dep6t of wealth — the centre of flying rumom-s,
and the rendezvous of secret conspiracies. To form an idea of
its appearance, imagine a whole quarter of the city walled round
and covered in; a maze of narrow alleys of one story high, with
open shops below and vaulted roof above — no light being
admitted upon the cool and dusky passages beneath but what
falls in fitful rays through certain apertures and domes
therein. No wheel carriages can enter; a few laden camels or
horses pass along the principal avenue, but the remainder is
impeneteable to aU but pedestrians, of whom the crowd is
immense, and the murmur incessant. After what one has heard
of the seclusion of the oriental women, the number met with is
perfectly startling. Muffled to the eyes in their white yashmahs,

126 JEWELLERY AND ARMOUR.
or veils, enveloped in a loose robe, and shuffling rather than
walking along in large boots of yellow leather — ^looking one
through with their dark lustrous eyes — they pass boldly along,
preceded by a male servant or black female slave, and are heard
chaffering and bargaining in those avenues particularly devoted to
theft wants and pleasures. For them the shawl or embroidery
bazaars put forth their brilliant display, the terror of many an
eastern husband — the shoe bazaar exposes its heaps of vermUion
shoes and yellow boots, or delicate pointed slippers of every
colour, in cloth and velvet, gilt and embroidered with exquisite
richness and taste- — or the confectionery bazaar, its delicious
Tcaimac, and other tempting delicacies and sweetmeats, the
consumption of which in the harems of the wealthy is almost
incredible. These are among the most striking and frequented
of these intricate passages; but every branch of teade has
a separate one. The Bezenstein is the dep6t of jeweUery ; of
Uttle external show, and of which the valuables are aU concealed,
and carefully guarded in recessed chambers, opened only to
customers. The treasure thus locked up is said to be of immense
value. Then there is the book and paper bazaar, to the eye
dullest of all, "with no " last re"news," or " iUustrated novelties."
The tempting tobacco and spice bazaars are redolent of musk
and aromatic odours, which almost overcome the sense with
a feeUng of languid luxury. None, however, is so strikingly
picturesque as the Tcharchi, or armoury bazaar. It is a hea"vy,
gloomy structure, fuU of effects in which a Rembrandt would
revel ; shut in by ponderous doors, carefully closed at night, but
flung open during the day, and admitting glimpses into the
curious maze of surrounding vaults and columns, and the endless
crowd that circulates among them. Here may be seen displayed
all sorts of old armour and weapons, so marvellously antiquated
and fantastic, that in looking at them, one seems carried back to
the romantic ages, and to the feats of half-fabulous warriors ; or
to scenes of the Crusades, and the palmy days of Ottoman

OLD CLOTHES. 127
prowess, when their advancing armies were the terror of the
West. Here is the cm-ved scimitar and crescent-bearing buckler
which Saladin might have worn, the coat of mail and heavy sabre
of the Christian knight, light spears which may have glittered
of old in the van of the Tm-kish cavalry, and weapons which
were once wielded by the terrible janissaries. Here are pistols
-with richly embossed silver handles, in gorgeous holsters ; and
long-barreUed guns inlaid -with pearl, and richly decorated in
arabesque — ^rather ornamental to a collection than formidable to
an enemy ; while intermingled with these weapons of a bygone
warfare, are others of more modern construction and of far greater
efficiency. Ornamented belts and sashes, leopard skins frayed
and worn half bare, housings and trappings — faded, but gorgeous,
and a variety of nameless articles, make up the heterogeneous
mass, slung fi-om the waUs, or piled up on the benches in
picturesque confusion. Half hidden among the musty accumula
tion appear the grave and turbaned vendors, as antiquated as the
rest of the collection; pipe in hand, they recline in dreamy
lethargy, from which they are only to be roused by the arrival of
some European teaveller -with his "wily dragoman, upon whom all
eyes are instantly turned with a twinkle of satisfaction, and every
effort made to secure his custom, as a god-send not to be slighted.
The old-clothes bazaar — the Monmouth Ste-eet of Constanti
nople — ^with its array of second-hand caftans, jackets, and " very
spacious breeches," which might not improbably have adorned
some recent victims of the plague, had a fusty, ominous look
about it, that gave us some uneasy feelings as to the possible
result of our rash excursion. But it was too late : we had by
this time shouldered half the inhabitants of Stamboul. No one
could have di"nned the recent ravages caused by the pestilence,
from the crowd in the bazaar : it may be compared with Con
stantinople itself, to which, as the heart of the sinking Turkish
empfte, while the population of the provinces is rapidly decreasing,
there is a continual influx of fresh life-blood — a succession of new

128 MADAME PFEIPFER.
comers. Thus, while the remoter quarters of this great city are
gradually thinned by plague and fire, while whole spaces within
the walls are assuming the appearance of suburban "nllages, the
bazaar itself exhibits no diminution of its customary throng of
busy vendors, and purchasers, and idle loungers.
We retm-ned to our quarters in Pera without, as the result
proved, having contracted any taint, but were subjected by our
nervous landlady to a double measm-e of the customary fumiga
tion. The plague gradually disappeared; and whether it be
contagious or not, this much at least is, certain, that since the
establishment of a quarantine, this fearful scourge, for which the
inhabitants looked almost as regularly as the seasons, has never
again made its appearance in the City of the Sultan.
In the evening of a lovely day, I embarked on board the
Austrian steamer, bound for Beyrout, which, passing SeragUo
Point, was soon in the open sea of Marmora. As the incom
parable panorama of Constantinople faded gradually from -new,
I looked round to scrutinise the appearance of my fellow-teavel-
lers. First-cabin passengers, as it happened, there were none,
myseft excepted, but there were several of the second-class,
while a large company of Tm-ks had taken their passage on deck.
Among the second-class passengers, I was struck "with the
appearance of one, whose quaint, old-fashioned costume strikingly
conteasted "with the flowing oriental garments around her. This
was a lady " of a certain age," small and slight in figure, rather
plain in countenance. She was dressed in a go"WTi of grey serge,
of pilgrim-like plainness of fashion, and wore a broad-brftnmed
straw hat, large enough to overshadow her whole person. Her
manner, though observant, was remarkably quiet and retft-ing,
and it was only now and then, when excited by conversation,
that the kindling of her dark eye betrayed the fund of enthu
siasm which formed the preponderating element of her character.
I afterwards ascertained that her name was Ida Pfeiffer, that she
had long resided in Vienna, and that having settled her children,

A LUDICROUS INCIDENT. 129
she had determined to set off on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land,
alone and unprotected, unless by such chance cavaliers as she
might happen to encounter upon the road. She had placed
herself, for the nonce, under the guardianship of an old monk,
who was going to his convent in Palestine. To reach Jerusalem
was, of course, her first object, as it was also my own. I promised,
on landing at Beyrout, to assist her as far as possible, or, if she
thought fit to accompany me, to take her under my o"wn charge ;
an offer which she gladly accepted, although I was not long in
discovering that, with her remarkable energy and endurance, she
was perfectly independent of any adventitious succour.
The deck of the vessel was much encumbered by sundry
groups of Turks and Persians, who had established themselves
with theft carpets and chibouques, so as to leave but little
gangway for the movements of those more given to locomotion.
Their picturesque appearance, however, fuUy indemnified us
for this inconvenience. The fftst sight that had struck me on
going on board, was a venerable white-bearded Tm-k, quietly
going through his devotions with the customary postures and
prosteations, amidst all the noise and confusion incident to a
ship's clearance. This noble looking old fellow had, as we after
wards found, been buying several articles of European manufac
ture in the bazaars of Constantinople, and seemed to take a pride
in displaying them to the gaze of his Christian fellow-passengers,
upon whom he e"vidently looked with an eye of benevolent com
placency. One moming, when we were all assembled upon deck,
and standing around him, he commenced preparations for his
noonday repast. Fftst producing his little stock of provisions,
consisting of Syrian cheese, coarse bread, and onions, he next
carefuUy shredded them together, forming a sort of salad; he
then gravely arose, and going to a large box which contained his
store of goods and chattels, with an indescribable air of quiet
seft-gratulation he drew forth, by its one handle, a white earthen
ware vessel, whose capacious form had no doubt attracted his
K

130 THE DARDANELLES.
attention as seeming admirably suited to the various require
ments of his travelUng cuisine, but which, suffice it to say, in its
original habitat, is generally kept in a state of decorous conceal
ment. Into this, promoted at once to the dignity of a tureen,
he poured his miscellaneous collection of comestibles, adding
a little oil, salt, and pepper, then stirred up the mess, and taking
a wooden spoon, sat down and looked around upon us with a
smile of triumph, as if to announce that personally he was
neither uninitiated into the usages of European Ufe, nor indis
posed to adopt them. Great then was his discomfiture at the
general explosion of laughter which on aU sides simultaneously
broke forth. He looked wildly round from one to another to
glean, if possible, some solution of the painful mystery, but his
comical expression of distress only added to the general hilarity.
Some of the spectators, unable to resteain theft immoderate
delight, danced con"vulsively about the deck, as if demented;
at the same time clapping theft hands to theft- sides, seemingly
apprehensive for their capabilities of resistance ; untft, exhausted
by these involuntary exertions, they sank powerless upon the
benches; yet ever and anon gi"nng vent to theft stiU excited
feelings, by snorting out fresh and unconfroUable guffaws. The
poor old man at length subsided into a state of quiet resignation,
but he never afterwards produced the unfortunate utensil, which
had given rise to such outrageous, and to him unaccountable
ebulUtions of mirth.
We passed over the Sea of Marmora during the night, and
early in the morning entered the Strait of the Dardanelles, near
Lampsacus, where Xerxes built the bridge of boats, to fransfer
his innumerable hosts from Asia into Europe. We remained
a short time between the castles which command it, and soon
after reached the point from whence it opens into the extensive
sea which we had just crossed.
As we issued out of the mouth of the Hellespont, on our left
were the low plains of the Troad, marked by the Tumulus of

TROAS.

131

Achilles, on a rising mound, overlooking the watery expanse.
On the right was Tenedos, and far beyond, over the rocky
island of Imbros, was seen the stUl loftier crest of distant
Samothracia. This was a point of great interest, for directly
opposite, on the Asian shore, the massive ruins of Alexandrian
Troas peeped out fr-om among a -wild overgrowth of woods,
above the low ground, in which are the remains of its port. It

was at Troas that St. Paul first embarked for the European
shores, being incited to do so by a vision, in which " a man of
Macedonia prayed him, saying. Come over and help us," whence
he " assuredly gathered, that the Lord had called him to preach
the Gospel unto them. Therefore, loosing fi-om Troas," he
continues, " we came with a straight course to Samothracia, and
the next day to NeapoUs," where, landing on the coast of
Macedonia, he repafted to PhiUppi. Thus the scene of his
embarkation, and even the course of his voyage, were visible at
the same moment. It was at this place also he landed on his
retm-n from Greece ; several of his friends ha-nng gone before to
meet him. From hence, it would appear, he went alone on foot,
the nearer way to Assos, passing probably amidst its splendid
tombs; while Luke and the rest of the company proceeded
thither, like ourselves, by ship. Running down the coast some
twenty miles further, we suddenly turned from the open sea,
K 2

132

ASSOS.

round Lesbos, a lofty headland, into the beautiful Gulf of
Mitylene, the waters of which were tranquil as a lake; and

TOMB AT ASS03

before long, the lofty Acropolis of Assos rose towering from the
shore, the deep Gulf of Adramyttium receding into distant
perspective.

^Sfp -J

ASSOS FROM THE SEA

Here Paul's friends took him on board, and continued their
voyage to the southward, by the same course which we ourselves
were now steering. The scenery of the Strait of Lesbos at this
point is exquisitely beautiful. On one side of the lake-like
channel is the shore of Asia ; on the other, the romantic island

SMYRNA. 133
of Mitylene, with the white town scattered on the side of a lofty
serrated mountain hung with woods; while a bold tongue of
land, projecting into the sea, is covered by an ancient fortress.
At Mitylene, Paul's ship appears to have remained a short time,
and thence to have sailed direct for Chios, leaving, to the left,
the mouth of the Gulf of Smyrna, into which om- vessel now
tm-ned; and here for a while we left the track of the great
Apostle, which we had followed. New Testament in hand, and
that indicating all the points of the route with the minuteness
and accuracy of a guide-book.
Smyrna is the paradise of Mediterranean midshipmen, and
there are few visitors that do not retain a most pleasurable
recollection of its gay and hospitable European inhabitants;
who, by ft-equent intermarriages, have come to be like one great
famfty, whose various members "ne with one another in showing
the most cordial attention to the stranger. Here, too, the tra
veller in coming fiom Europe first feels that he is in the East —
the land of his dreams : in the voluptuous air of soft Ionia — the
novel vegetation — the palm, loveUest of trees, gently waving in
the perfumed air — the clustering fig and pomegranate- — the
camel, symbol of the desert, here seen for the first time, — all
strike upon his senses -with an intoxication of novelty impossible
to describe.
But Smyrna has graver associations than these : nowhere
comes home more solemnly the warning, " that in the midst of
Ifte we are in death." It were, as Dr. Cave observes, " an ill-
natured " (shall we say rather, impious) " interpretation of the
actions of Di-vine Pro-vidence, to attribute the calamities that
have befallen this city to the displeasure of Heaven, — yet, as
described by a contemporary of St. Polycarp, by plague, fire,
and earthquakes, Smyrna, before one of the glories and ornaments
of Asia, was turned into rubbish and ashes, its stately houses
overturned, its temples ruined." Such, even to the present day,
seems to be the inalienable portion of this gay and thoughtless

134 TEE STADIUM.
city, for nowhere is the recurrence of these accidents more
frequent. One of the most serious of these visitations had not long
since occurred. The plague had swept off its thousands, and
a tremendous fire raging unchecked among the wooden houses
and narrow streets, had turned whole quarters of the city into
heaps of blackened ashes. I had introductions to the American
missionaries, and walked with two of them to see the Stadium —
hallowed as the place of martyrdom of the venerable Polycarp.
Our footsteps echoed among the burnt and blackened walls of
silent streets, "with their abandoned homes, prosteate mosques,
and dried-up fountains, wrecks of the recent conflagration, which
had raged as far as rage it could, up to the very fort of the lofty
hill cro"wned by the ruins of the castle, and separated from the
city by a girdle of gloomy cemeteries.
Here have been deposited the mortal remains of countless
generations of the departed Greek and Roman, Saracen and
Turk — the spoiler from the wild steppes of Inner Asia, and the
European merchant from the western mart : here, too, had been
but recently conveyed by thousands the "victims of the plague ;
the ground yet heaved "with its foul and fearful burden. One
shrunk with loathing and with dread from the scarce-covered
graves, among which the furtive lizard, and the lean and savage
dog, were seen to glide and burrow in their loathsome and
peculiar haunt. A forest of cypress, of gigantic growth — that
gloomy tree, " Whose brauoh and leaf
Seem stamp'd with an eternal grief,"
shrouded with its dense dark shadows the myriads of whited
sepulchres and tm-ban-headed tombstones; some gilt and fresh —
memorials of yesterday's soirow; others broken and yawning,
with inscriptions faded as the memory of those to whom they
were erected. These tall and mystic cones, like fimeral plumes,
stood silent in the sultry heat of noon, or were but momentarily

|\

PLACE OF ST. POLYCARP'S MARTYRDOM.

135

swept into a low and solemn rustle by the fitful breeze in its
passage from the mountains across the slumbering waters of
the gulf.
Through this gloomy approach we reached the foot of the
bare, brown mountain, and slowly ascended it to the castle.
Saracenic walls, long since dismantled, straggle picturesquely
about the crest of the eminence ; fragments of Greek, and Roman,
and Byzantine date, built into them, tell of successive revolutions ;
while the half savage Turcoman shepherd finds a good fold for
his sheep and goats in the ruinous vaults, and takes his siesta,
surrounded by his flock, and watched by his dog, in the grateful
shadow of its hoary walls. We were standing here to recover

PLACE OF ST. POLTCAUP 8 MARTTRrOM.

our breath after the ascent, when my companions pointing to
a green hollow in the mountain, but a short distance below,
exclaimed, " That is the spot; it was there that Polycarp suf
fered ! " We now descended to it.
The Stadium, or Amphitheatre, hollowed out in the hill side.

136 MARTYRDOM OF ST. POLYCARP.
on a site which catches every breeze that blows, commands a -wide
and glorious prospect over Smyrna and its far-sfretching guft.
Here were wont to assemble the thoughtless multitude of Asiatic
idlers— how vacant and how sftent is it now ! Its sides and
hollow are covered thick with turf as the surrounding hiU,
through which appear here and there the marble seats, or the
orifices of the dens in which the wild beasts were confined. The
saying of the poet as to places signalized by human crime or
suffering is fully realized :
 " at the coming of the milder day
Their monuments shall all be overgro-mi.''
A few sheep are pastured about the grassy slope, or clustered
under the shadow of a lonely cypress, which serves as a land
mark to vessels sailing up the gulf
But, to the story which has invested the spot with such
undying interest. This has been told very beautifully, and at
some length, in a circular epistle addressed by the church over
which Polycarp had so long presided, to that of Philadelphia ;
a document so evidently authentic, and withal so moving, that
ScaUger declared he had never, in all the history of the Church,
met with anything that so transported him, for that in reading
it he seemed to be no longer himself
It was in the reign of Marcus Antoninus, A.D. 167, that the
persecution grew hot at Smyrna, and many ha-nng already
sealed their confession with their blood, the general outcry
was, "Away with the impious; let Polycarp be sought for."
The good man, although undistmbed by this, was yet prevailed
on by the love of his people to retire to a neighbouring -nUage,
where he continued day and night in prayer for the Church
Universal, under her perilous and trying circumstances. " Here,
at length, he was discovered by those sent after him, whom, on
their approach, he saluted with a very cheerful and gentle coun
tenance, ordering a table to be spread for them; so that they

MARTYRDOM OF ST. POLYCARP. 137
wondered to behold so venerable a person, of so great age, and
so grave and composed a presence : and wondered what needed
so much stir to hunt and take this poor old man."
After a parting, and a solemn prayer, he set out with his con
ductors, and on the road towards the city met the officer charged
with the maintenance of the public peace, who took up Polycarp
into his chariot, seeking to undermine his constancy by repre
senting to him how fr-ivial a thing it was to sacrifice a few grains
of incense to the emperor. Doubtless the duty of putting in
force the edicts against the Christians, must often have been
painful to men of humane minds. Sometimes, as Gibbon tells
us, they were alarmed at the multitude of the confessors, towards
whom they used every art of persuasion to induce them to
perform some act, of at least an external conformity, which
would release them from theft painful office. But all persuasion
faUed to induce Polycarp to comply with these suggestions, upon
which he was thrust out of the chariot -with insult and violence,
so that he was injured by the fall.
" Whereat, nothing daunted,'' continues the story, " he
cheerftdly hastened to the place of execution, under the conduct
of his guard, whither when they were come, and a confused noise
and tumult was arisen, a voice came from heaven (heard by many,
but none seen who spake it), saying, ' Polycarp, be sfrong, and
quit thyseft like a man.' The proconsul, before whom he was
now brought, sought to persuade him to recant. ' Regard,' said
he, 'thy great age; swear by the genius of Csesar; repent, and
say with us, " Take away the impious." ' The holy martyr,
looking about the Stadium, and severely regarding the idolatrous
crowd, looked up to heaven and prayed, ' Take away the
impious.' The proposal to blaspheme Christ, "with which he
was next assailed, was treated with a noble scorn, and drew from
the venerable man this generous and touching confession, —
' Fom-score and six years I have served him, and he never did
me any harm; how then shall I thus blaspheme my King and

138 MARTYRDOM OF ST. POLYCARP.
my Sa-viour?' Importuned to swear by the genius of Csesar,
he replied, ' Since you are so vainly ambitious that I should
swear by the emperor's genius, as you call it, as if you knew
not who I am ; hear my confession, — I am a Christian ! ' To
the threats of being thrown to the wild beasts, or of torture at
the stake, the infrepid reply was, ' But why delayest thou?
Bring forth whatever thou hast a mind to.' Ha"nng exhausted
the arts of persuasion, the proconsul commanded the decisive
proclamation to be made, 'Polycarp has confessed himself a
Christian ! ' The cry was echoed by fearful shouts from the
assembled crowd of thoughtless Asiatics and more bitter Jews.
' This is the great doctor of Asia, and the father of the Chris
tians ; this is the desteoyer of our gods, who teaches men not to
sacrifice, or worship the deities.' That blind and bloodthftsty
rabble, afteady infuriated by the horrid spectacles of the amphi-
theatee, now clamorously requested of the presiding officer, that
Polycarp should be thrown to the lions ; which being overruled,
as contrary to the order of the shows, they then demanded that
he should be burnt alive.
" No sooner was this consented to, than wood and fagots were
instantly fetched, the Jews rendering themselves particularly
active in the ser"nce. The fire being prepared, Polycarp untied
his girdle, laid aside his garments, and began to put off his
shoes ; the Christians ambitiously stri"nng to be admitted to do
these offices for him, and deeming the man happy who first
could touch his body.
" The officers came, according- to custom, to nail him to the
stake; but he desired them to desist, assming them, that He
who gave him strength to endure the fire, would enable him
without nailing to stand immovable in the hottest flames.
Clasping his hands, which were bound behind him, he then
poured out his parting soul to heaven in prayer. And now the
ministers of execution blew up the fire, which increasing to
a mighty flame, behold, a wonder (seen," say my authors, " by

MARTYRDOM OF ST. POLYCARP. 139
US, who were reserved, that we might declare it to others) ; the
flames disposing themselves into the resemblance of an arch, like
the sails of a ship, swelled with the wind, gently circled the
body of the martyr-, who stood all the while in the midst, Uke
gold or silver purified in the furnace; his body sending forth
a delightful fragrancy, which like frankincense, or other costly
spices, presented itself to our senses." And if our colder reason
hesitate to afford impUcit credence to this and otlier marvellous
circumstances attendant upon the solemn scene, let us regard
"with sympathising respect, rather than with contemptuous pity,
that Uvely faith and that excited imagination of the first
Christians, which represented to them the powers of the other
world as ever present for their support and consolation; and
which led them unconsciously to regard a natural occurrence as
no less than a miraculous interposition. The miracle, at all
events, was unperceived, or unheeded by the spectators, who,
finding that the flames were slow in doing their work, m-ged on
a spearman to pierce the martyr with his weapon, on which " so
vast a quantity of blood flowed from his wound, as extinguished
the fire; together with which, a dove was seen to fly fr-om his
wounds, supposed to be his soul in -nsible form;" though these
details, indeed, are considered as a subsequent addition to the
original narrative. The Christians would have taken away the
body, but this intention was defeated by the malice of the Jews,
who persuaded the officer to have it consumed to ashes ; these
were gathered up by the Christians as a choice and inestimable
treasure, and afterwards reverently interred. And they, moreover,
resolved to meet and celebrate the anniversary of his martyrdom,
both to do honour to the memory of the departed, and to prepare
and encourage others to give the like testimony to the faith ; in
which resolution originated those Memorice Martyrum, or solemn
commemorations of the martyrs, which were generally kept in
the primitive church. Thus died the apostolical man, anno
Christi 167, in about the hundredth year of his age ; for those

140 REFLECTIONS.
eighty and six years to which he alluded as having served
Christ most probably commenced with his baptism. He had
besides seen and conversed familiarly with the Apostle John.
My companions, though it was not of course the first time they
had -nsited the spot, seemed absorbed in the solemn reflections
connected with it. They paced the grass-grown area in silence,
and I could well imagine that they breathed to Him who of old
sustained the illustrious Martyr in his fiery trials, a secret prayer,
that some measure of the same spirit might be accorded to them
selves, under the discouragements and hindrances from which
I learned they had been suffering. It was impossible not to be
struck with the amazing revolution that had been wrought since
the time when this half-obliterated amphitheatre witnessed the
triumphant confession of the Martyr. At that time, paganism,
if afteady indeed undermined — derided by the philosopher — the
hollow profession of the great — the dreary and comfortless creed
of the "vulgar, was yet triumphantly established by the terrible
power of the Roman empire, which threatened to extinguish in
fire and blood the struggling and persecuted religion of the Cross.
But after the lapse of eighteen hundred years, behold the
change ! — the descendants of a then barbarous and remote set of
islanders, " Penitns toto divisos orbe Britanuos,''
and still more ste-ange — the citizens of a region of the globe then
undreamed of — ^missionaries, too, of that very reUgion which was
here so terribly tried and so gloriously triumphant, standing- on
the same spot, see the last vestiges of that ancient paganism fast
mouldering away — its creed forgotten — its cruel and bloody
games abolished, and its monumental relics become the obscure
theme of the antiquary ; while Christianity, with consolation and
mercy in its train, has spread, and "will continue to extend, its
beneficent triumphs over a world unknown to the ancients.
Smyrna, like most of the other Seven Chm-ches of Asia Minor,

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J

TEMPLE OP DUNA AT EPIIESUS. 141
is said to have been founded by St. John. The beloved Apostle,
however, principally resided at Ephesus, where St. Paul had,
many years before, settled a chm-ch, and appointed Timothy to
preside over it. He was deported to Rome, and afterwards
banished to Patmos ; from whence, after the death of the
Emperor Domitian, he returned to Ephesus, where he composed
his Gospel, and lived to be nearly a centenarian. " When age
and weakness," says Cave, "grew upon him, so that he was no
longer able to preach to his flock, he used, at every public meeting,
to be led to the chm-ch, and say no more to them than, ' Little
children, love one another.' And when his auditors, wearied
with the constant repetition of the same thing, asked him why
he always spoke the same, he answered, Because it was the
command of our Lord ; and that, if they did nothing else, this
alone was enough."
Prevented by the plague from visiting Ephesus, there is one
scene, delineated by Laborde, (whose general accuracy leaves
little doubt of its faithfulness,) so graphic, and so intimately
connected "with St. Paul, that, in default of an original sketch,
we have ventured to copy it, and transfer it to these pages.
This is the reputed site of the famous Temple of Diana, seen
from the ruins of the Stadium, perhaps the same edifice, although
another theatre is not far off, in which Demeteius the silversmith,
who made silver shrines to Diana, by alarming the fears of his
fellow-craftsmen, raised the tumidt so "n"ndly described in the
nineteenth chapter of the Acts. The temple stood at the end of
the port, by a morass, — a situation chosen as less likely to be
affected by the earthquakes which have so often devastated the
Asian cities. It was raised upon immense vaulted foundations,
the ruins of which still exist, as represented in the view, and
have often been explored by travellers. This wonderful edifice,
as it existed in St. Paul's day, was 420 feet long by 220 feet
broad ; and of its columns, which were 60 feet high, one hundred
and twenty were donations from monarchs ; several of these now

142 FALL OF EPHESUS.
form a part of the church of St. Sophia, at Constantinople. The
gorgeousness of the decorations were answerable to the splendour
of the edifice. The votive offerings were priceless, and among
them was the celebrated pictm-e by ApeUes, representing Alex
ander armed "with thunder, for which he was paid twenty talents
in gold, (about 38,650Z.) It might thus weU be regarded as one
of the wonders of the world. Plundered by Nero, and after
wards by the Goths, the manner of its destruction is involved in
obscurity. Few scenes of desolation can be more impressive than this ; —
the ruinous theatre, the haunt of the partridge and the Uzard —
the dreary, bittern-haunted morass — the gloomy vestiges of the
subsfructions — in the foreground and in the distance, the
"windings of the Cayster across the unwholesome, desolate plain,
on its course to the distant sea. " The candlestick" of Ephesus
has indeed been " removed out of its place." The site of the city
is stee-wn -with confused ruins, overgrown -with herbage ; not a
single inhabitant is found within its confines.
After Ephesus had fallen into ruin, during the con-vulsions
attendant upon the faU of the Roman empire, its inhabitants
were removed to the neighbouring village of Aisaluck, where
a castle was erected on a bold hiU, and a town grew up around
it; but this, too, has now dwindled down to a few mise
rable huts.
As is Ephesus, so also is the neighbouring city of Miletus —
once so famous as to be called the head and meteopolis of Ionia,
the bulwark of Asia, and the mother of not fewer than seventy-
five cities in Pontus, Egypt, and other parts. It was thus
flourishing when St. Paul, on the voyage we are now teacing,
sailing past Ephesus, landed at the promontory of Trogyllium,
opposite to the island of Samos, and repairing thence by land to
Miletus, caUed together the elders of the Ephesian Chmch, with
whom he had that interview, the narrative of which is among
the most affecting in the New Testament. A magnificent theatee.

PATMOS — COS. 143
together "with the remains of Christian chm-ches, and Mahom-
medan mosques, speak eloquently of the succession of creeds
and monuments, on a spot now forsaken by all but a few Tm-kish
shepherds. Next day our steamer pm-sued her onward course towards the
shores of Palestine. No sooner were we clear of the Gulf, than
we resumed the teack of St. Paul's voyage, from which the
reader -will remember we had de"nated, in order to visit Smyrna.
From Mitylene, he came the next day over against Chios — the
modem Scio— one of the largest islands that stud the Jilgean
Sea. Scio was precisely in our course, and still keeping south,
Uke the Apostle, we passed off Samos, where he, however,
landed, in order to visit Trogyllium and Miletus, to avoid lin
gering at Ephesus. To the scene of his leave-taking on this
occasion, we have afteady aUuded. We continued our course
through the romantic islands of the ^gean, which loomed up
around us in every variety of form and outline. Among these
was Patmos, a long mountainous ridge, rising darkly against the
distant horizon, on our right, — the subUmest prison in the world,
over which the Apocalyptic visions of St. John have cast an

^ ^.^J|„Ti_fo

undying halo. At the beautiful steaits of Cos, we again resume
the course of St. Paul, when departing from Mitylene, after his
sorro"wful scene with the elders, "he came "with a straight

144 CYPRUS.
course to Cos, and the day following to Rhodes, and from thence
to Patara," where he found a ship bound for Phoenicia, and took
his passage on board. The sun was setting as we passed beau
tiful Cos, shining upon the large castle erected by the Knights
of St. John of Jerusalem, and on awaking the next morning,
we found ourselves, for the second time, moored in the harbour
of Rhodes, under circumstances happily far different fi-om those
in which I had -first reached that place.
I should in vain seek to convey to the reader the charm of
this coasting voyage. It gave a singular degree of interest
to St. Luke's narrative. The same cities, straits and headlands,
rose before our eyes, that had saluted those of the great Apostle
of the Gentiles and his accurate historian, near two thousand
years ago. The jom-nal of his course was almost Uke our o"wn
log. Add to this, the exquisite beauty of the scenery itseft, ike
memorable sites that we passed, the fineness of the weather, the
luxury of the atmosphere ; and, I may add, too, the comforts ol
an excellent steamer, furnished "with a well-selected oriental
library, all tended to render this cruise one of those vivid pas
sages of fravel, which one sighs to think are never Ukely to be
reaUzed for the second time.
From Rhodes, our com-se lay directly across the open sea to
Cyprus, and the first land we made was its eastern extremity,
near the town of Baffo, the ancient Paphos. This city was
famous, or rather infamous, for its temple to the goddess of
pleasure ; and here St. Paul, who, embarking at Seleucia, and
entering the island at Salamis, had traversed it in his missionary
work, until he reached this spot, rebuked Elymas the sorcerer.
No spot could look less propitious to luxury and love, than this
hot bare-looking coast, along which we advanced towards
Larneca, the principal port on the south of the island, where we
cast anchor about noon, amidst a considerable quantity of small
craft, and a few vessels of larger burthen.
As we were to remain here a few hours, I resolved to go on

ENGLISH CONSUL. 145
shore, and pay my respects to the British consul ; who, in this
unfrequented place, is not very often troubled with the visits of
his countrymen. On landing, I was at once struck with the
utter misery of all around. A few scattered white houses ranged
along- the free-less shore, backed by lands that ought to have
been cultivated, but were e-vidently left almost in a state of
natm-e. I found the consul arrayed in scarlet and gold, in the
act of receiving the congratulations of his brother functionaries,
aU of them in official costume, it being the birthday of Queen
Victoria ; and the attempted pomp and parade of this ceremonial
painfully conteasted with the utter -wretchedness of everything
beside. As soon as these gentlemen had taken their departure,
it was proposed that we should ride a short distance into the
interior. The scene around was miserable and dreary, and
I fancied that the spirits of the consul appeared depressed. He
was evidently a man of education and refinement, and utterly
thrown away in such a place. He had repaired to his post -with
highly raised expectations ; there was something of romance in
the very name of Cyprus, but he confessed that he had been
bitterly disappointed. Still he was not without hopes of finding
in the interior of the island, subjects of interesting research,
"with which to fift up the time that hung so heavily on his hands
at Larneca. Moreover, he was shortly to be married, and the
pleasures and cares of a household would contribute to fill up
the vacuum. After remaining with him until the steamer was
ready to start, I took leave, with many thanks for the courteous
manner in which he had welcomed me, sincerely hoping that he
might find reason to become more reconciled to his post, and
also escape the unhealthy climate to which so many have fallen
-nctims. It was some months afterwards, that in taking up
a steay " Galignani," in a continental cafe, I leamed the fact of
his marriage, — almost the very next journal conveyed the melan
choly intelligence of his death !
On reaching Beyrout, no time was lost in repairing to an
L

146 AN ARAB BOAT.
English merchant for whom I had a letter of inteoduction, and
whose active kindness procured me a teavelling servant, named
Achmet, a native of the place, who was directed to lay in a stock
of provisions for a two or three days' cruise, and to take our
places in a boat sailing that evening for Jaffa. My lady pilgrim,
of whom I had lost sight during the confusion of landing, was
now sought out ; nor was it long before she made her appearance
at the merchant's. At first, my friend was rather shy of this
part of the business, but the mature age, grave appearance, and
simple manners of my new acquaintance, soon set at rest any
ungenerous suspicions.
No sooner had this got wind, than we were besieged by one
or two other women, who also wanted to go up under escort to
Jerusalem; but this additional responsibility it was judged
prudent to decline. I might otherwise have made my entry in
the same style as the Protestant Bishop, accompanied by such
a bevy of ladies, that when the Turks beheld it, and supposed
them to be his harem, they declared he was a right good feUow
who knew how to live, and not like those miserable monks, who
never suffer a woman to come near them.
The evening came, and we repaired on board. The boat
proved to be an undecked Arab craft, of the very rudest de
scription, with two masts, and huge latine or teiangular sails.
A small cabin, about six feet square, into which it was necessary
to creep on aU-fours, was conteived at the stern, but it was so
foul that to take refuge there except in case of a storm was
impossible. The rest of the boat had a flooring of sand and
shingle, and its rough ribs served for couches, and sofas, and
berths, at once. The places of honom-, including the aforesaid
cabin, had been reserved for ourselves ; the rest of the vessel
was crowded "with a motley collection of passengers.
Having myself roughed it before in this way, I was prepared
for what I met with ; but nothing surprised me more than the
passive indifference of my companion. Though certainly not

A FRENCH DOCTOR. 147
" cabined," we were " cribbed and confined" with a vengeance.
WiUrie, when putting up for the night in the one room of a
Spanish posada, \\ith a party of ladies and gentlemen, talks of
curtains and other contrivances for decorum. I thought of the
fastidious deUcacy of Hood's " School-mistress " under such
alarming cftcumstances. But there was no remedy. " Misery
acquaints a man "with strange bedfellows." All distinctions were
UteraUy brought to one level ; and when night came on, and we
were forced to lie do"wn in the sand, which formed the sheeting
of the general bed, -with the canopy of heaven for a curtain, we
made so tight a fit of it, that, as Stephens somewhere says, " if
the bottom of the boat had fallen out, we could hardly have
tumbled through."
Among our fellow-companions was a young French doctor, in
the employ of the sultan, one of that wandering crew of adven
turers, who, imable to find an opening at home, are compelled to
seek employment in eastern lands, and confrive to accommodate
themselves, far more than our own countrymen can ever do, to
the maimers and the humours of other nations. Our medico
wore an uniform, which had become most wofuUy shabby, and
his Unen was none of the cleanest, but this did not affect the
UveUness of his conversation, or the unceasing flow of his animal
spftits. His stock of baggage and pro-nsions was the slenderest
possible, and, somehow or other, he always made one when the
smoking platter of pilau was served up for our noonday meal.
His entfte equipage seemed rolled up in a mysterious blue
cloak, an imposing garment, which was only assumed on
occasions of ceremony, and which, Uke charity, concealed a
multitude of defects. Apropos of this famous cloak ; we after
wards heard, that having missed it at Jerusalem, he taxed his
servant with ha"ving stolen and sold it. This, the poor fellow
sfrenuously denied. The Frenchman, in a fury, drew his sabre,
and threatened him with instant death, unless he confessed the
theft, which the terrified creature, falling on his knees, was
l2

148 CESAREA — ITS ORIGIN
compelled to do, and was put to his wit's end how to invent
a parcel of lies, in order to criminate himself. A day or two
afterwards the cloak arrived, ha-ving been rolled up accidentally
by the servant of an English teaveller, a fellow-sojoumer in
the same convent, who had left the city, and who returned it to
the owner as soon as discovered.
About dawn we were abreast of the ruins of Csesarea, and
hoisting out the boat, rowed ashore to -visit the remains of what
was once the principal seaport of Palestine.

The origin of this city is thus described by Josephus : " There
was a certain place by the sea-side, formerly called Steato's
Tower, which Herod looked upon as conveniently situated for
the erection of a city. He drew his model, set people to work
upon it, and finished it. The buildings were all of marble,
private houses as well as palaces ; but his master-piece was the
port, which he made as large as the Pirseus (at Athens), and
a safe station against all winds and weathers, to say nothing of
other conveniences. This work was the more wonderful, because
all the materials for it were brought thither at a prodigious

DESCRIBED BY JOSEPHUS. 149
expense from afar off. This city stands in Phoenicia, upon the
pass to Egypt, between Joppa and Dora, two -wretched sea-towns,
where there is no riding in the harbom- with a S.W. wind, for
it beats so furiously upon the shore, that merchantmen are forced
to keep off at sea many times for fear of being driven on the
reefs. To encounter these difficulties, Herod ordered a mole to
be made in the shape of a half-moon, and large enough to
contain a royal navy. He dfteeted, also, prodigious stones to be
let down there in twenty fathom water — stones fifty feet long,
and eighteen broad, and nine deep, some greater, some less.
This mole was two hundi-ed feet in extent, the one half of it to
break the setting of the sea, the other half served for the foun
dation of a stone wall, fortified with tm-rets, the largest and the
fairest of them called by the name of the Tower of Drusus, from
Drusus the son-in-law of Augustus, who died young. This
port opens to the northward, the clearest quarter of the heavens.
Upon a mount in the middle stood a temple dedicated to Csesar,
which was of great use to the mariners as a sea-mark, and con
tained two statues, of Rome and of Csesar, and hence the city took
the name of Csesarea. The contrivance of the vaults and sewers
was admftable. Herod built also a stone theatre, and on the
south side of the harbom-, an amphitheatre, with a noble sea-
view. In short, he spared neither labour nor expense, and in
twelve years this work was brought to perfection." . ..." It
was finished," says Josephus, (speaking of the city,) " in the
tenth year from its foundation, the twenty-eighth of Herod's
reign, and in the Olympiad 192. Its dedication was celebrated
"with aU the splendour and magnificence imaginable; masters
procured from all parts, and the best that could be gotten too, in
all exercises, such as musicians, "wrestlers, swordsmen, and the
like, to contend for the prizes. They had their horse-races also,
and shows of wild beasts, with all other spectacles and enter
tainments then in vogue, either at Rome or elsewhere. This
solemnity was instituted in honour of Csesar, under the appella-

150 DEATH OF HEROD AGRIPPA.
tion of Certamen quinquennale, and the ceremony to be exhibited
every fifth year."
Such was the superb seaport which Herod built, not only as
a monument of his public-spirited munificence, but in the hope
that it might long remain in the proud possession of his race.
We need not dwell here upon the awful domestic fragedy,
in which this passionate and unhappy monarch became the
executioner of the best members of his own family, and the
desfroyer of his o-wn hopes of the permanency of his Une. The
disputes of his descendants were terminated at no distant period
by the sway of Rome. Herod Agrippa, his successor, and the
last monarch of the Jews, had reigned, in dependence upon the
Roman power, three years over Palestine, when he ordered a
splendid festival at Csesarea in honour of the Emperor Claudius.
" Upon the second day of this festival," says Josephus, who
gives a fuller version of the incident mentioned in the " Acts,"
" Agrippa went early in the morning to the theafre in a silver
stuff so wonderfully rich and curious, that as the beams of the
rising sun struck upon it, the eyes were dazzled by the reflection;
the sparkUng of the light seemed to have something di"vine in it,
that moved the spectators at the same time "with veneration and
awe. Insomuch that a fawning crew of parasites cried him up
as a god; beseeching him, in form, to forgive them the sins of
their ignorance, when they took him only for flesh and blood,
for now they were con-vinced of an excellency in his natm-e that
was more than human. This impious flattery he repelled not,
but while in the full vanity of this contemplation, he beheld an
owl above him seated on a rope, a presage of e"nl to him, as it
had been before of good fortime. For immediately he was seized
with a fearful agony, iu which he exclaimed to his friends,
' Behold your god condemned to die, and prove his flatterers
a company of profligate liars, and to convince the world that he
is not immortal. But God's will be done ! In the Ufe that I
have led, I have had no reason to envy the happiness of any

CONTENDDIQ PARTIES. 151
prince under heaven, but I must still be aspiring to be greater
and greater.' His pains increasing, he retired into the palace;
the news flew over Csesarea, and all the people, covering them
selves with sackcloth, joined in prayers and tears for Agrippa's
recovery. The king in the mean time, looking do"wn from his
apartment near the top of the palace, could not forbear weeping
at the sight of the mourners that lay below prosfr-ate on the
pavement. On the fifth day after the commencement of his
illness, he expft-ed."
After the death of Agrippa, his son being too young to bear
the burden of sovereignty, Judsea became a Roman pro"nnce,
and was governed by Roman officers. The total loss of their
independence, and their subjection to pagan masters, profoundly
ft-ritated the unsocial and turbulent Jews ; and the Gentile popu
lation, especially the Greeks, with whom they were confounded,
inflamed by theft bitter insults the wounded spirit of the fallen
people. The Roman soldiery regarded them with such insolent
contempt, that to avoid colUsion between his troops and the more
turbulent zealots of Jerasalem, the Roman prsetor generaUy
resided at Csesarea. It was there that the events took place
which led to a final rupture with Rome. Its situation as a port
had dra-wn thither a great number of Syrian Greeks and other
sfrangers; and the pagan monuments with which it had been
decorated by Herod, seemed in their eyes to give it the appear
ance of a Gentile city. Thus they contended fiercely for pre
eminence "with the Jews, who, from its ha"nng been built by
a monarch of their faUen kingdom, on the site moreover of an
old Je"wish town, regarded themselves as its principal and ruUng
inhabitants ; or at least contended for an equaUty of privileges.
But the straggle was unequal, the soldiery encouraged the
Greeks — ^the feuds increased daUy, and the utmost influence of
the moderate of both sides was found unavailing to quell it.
The Roman governor, FeUx, was compelled to banish the factious
from the city, and upon the refusal of many to depart, he caused

152 MASSACRE OF JEWS.
them to be put to death. Commissioners were sent from both
parties to plead the cause before Ceesar, who decided in favour
of the Greeks. Upon this their insolence knew no bounds, and
the Jews were driven to despaft.
At this crisis " nothing was wanting," says Milman, " to fiU
the measm-e of calamity, but the nomination of a new governor
Uke Gessius Floras. Without compunction and without shame,
as crafty as he was cruel, he laid deliberate schemes of iniquity,
by which at some distant period he was to reap his harvest of
plunder. He pillaged not only individuals, but even communi
ties, and seemed to grant a general indemnity for spoUation, if
he was only allowed his fair portion of the plunder." Such
was the man appointed to maintain equal justice between the
rival parties, and to impose awe upon the incorrigibly factious,
but by whose partiality, corruption, and weakness combined, the
dispute was inflamed to a fatal termination.
The smothered flame now burst forth. On the very day that
a Roman garrison in Jerusalem was treacherously butchered by
the insm-gent Jews, the whole Jewish population of Csesarea was
massacred, to the number, according to Josephus, of twenty
thousand. " This," he continues, " made the whole nation
mad," and the Jews, spreading through the country, made
fearful reprisals on their persecutors. " Moderate and mUd-
natured men before, were now become hard and cruel." Every
passion was let loose, avarice was kindled together with revenge,
and " robbery was called "victory." " It was a horrid spectacle
to see the streets encumbered with dead bodies of men, women
and children, unburied, and even micovered." The whole frame
work of society was a prey to con"vulsions, which were but the
opening act of that teemendous drama which terminated with the
destruction of the Temple and dispersion of the Jewish people.
It is refreshing to turn fi-om these scenes of horror, these mutual
cruelties of rival nations, which heaped the streets of this new-
built city with the slain, and stained the waters of its port "with

PAUL BEFORE FELIX. 153
their blood, to the peaceful arrival of Paul of Tarsus. We see
him, after he had escaped from the blind bigotry of his country
men at Jerusalem, sent down stealthily and by night to Csesarea,
in the custody of a body of soldiers, traversing the mountainous
defiles of Bethoron, and reaching- in the morning Antipatris,
another city of Herod's creation. Here the foot soldiers returned,
and left him to be escorted the rest of the way by the cavalry.
On reaching Csesarea he is kept in " Herod's judgment-haU."
" Not many days after, came down Ananias the high-priest, with
some others of the Sanhedrim, accompanied by TertuUus the
advocate, who, in a speech set off by the insinuating arts of
forensic eloquence, charged the Apostle, before Felix the governor,
with sedition, heresy, and the profanation of the Temple. After
St. Paul had replied, Felix commanded him to be kept under
guard, yet so that none of his friends should be hindered from
"visiting him, or performing any office of kindness and friendship
to him." And even here, amidst the hostile collisions of Greeks
and Jews, lurked, no doubt, a few members of the proscribed sect
of the Christians, the objects of theft united hatred and con
tempt. " It was not long after this before Drusilla, the wife of Felix,
came to Csesarea. Felix, Drusilla being present, sent for
St. Paul, and gave him leave to discourse of the doctrines of
Christianity. St. Paul took occasion to insist upon the obligation
to justice and righteousness, to sobriety and chastity. But men,"
says Cave, " natm-aUy hate that which ' brings their sins to their
remembrance,' and sharpens the sting of a violated conscience.
The prince was so moved by the Apostle's reasonings, that,
frembUng, he caused him to break off abruptly, telUng him he
would hear the rest at some other season. And good reason
there was that FeUx's conscience should be sensibly alarmed,
being a man notoriously infamous for rapine and "violence.
Tacitus tells us of him, that he made his will the law of his
govemment, practising all manner of cruelty and injustice. He

154 FESTUS SUCCEEDS FELIX.
was given over to luxury and debauchery, for the' compassing
whereof he scrupled not to violate all laws both of God and man.
Whereof this very wife Drusilla was a famous instance. For
being married by her brother to Azis, king of the Emisenes,
FeUx, who had heard of her incomparable beauty, by the help of
Simon the magician, a Jew of Cyprus, tore her from her hus
band's arms, and, in defiance of all law and right, kept her for
his 0"wn "wife. To these qualities he had added bribery and
covetousness, and, therefore, frequently sent for St. Paul to
discourse "with him, expecting that he should have given him a
considerable sum for his release ; and the rather, probably,
because he had heard that St. Paul had lately brought up great
sums of money to Jerusalem. But finding no offers made, either
by the Apostle or his friends, he kept him prisoner for two years
together, so long as he himself continued procurator of that
nation ; when, being displaced by Nero, he left St. Paul stiU in
prison, on purpose to gratify the Jews, and engage them to speak
better of him after his (Jeparture from them.
" To him succeeded Portius Festus, in the procuratorship of
the province ; at whose first coming to Jerasalem the high-priest
and Sanhedrim presently began to prefer to him an indictment
against St. Paul, desiring that, in order to his trial, he might be
sent for up from Csesarea ; designing this pretence that assassins
should Ue in the way to mm-der him.
" Festus told them that he himself was going shortly to
Cffisarea, and that, if they had anything against St. Paul, they
should come down thither and accuse him. Accordingly, being
come to Csesarea, the Jews began to renew the charge which they
had heretofore brought against St. Paul ; of all which he cleared
himself. However, as the safest course, he solemnly made his
appeal to the Roman emperor, who should judge between them.
Whereupon Festus, ad"nsing "with the Jewish Sanhedrim, re
ceived his appeal, and told him he should go to Csesar.
" Some time after, King Agrippa, who succeeded Herod in the

PAUL SENT TO ROME. 155
tefraichate of GaUIee, and his sister Bernice, came to Cassarea.
To him Festus gave an account of St. Paul, and the great stir
and frouble that had been made about him, and how he had
appealed to Csesar. Agrippa was very desirous to see and hear
him, and, accordingly, the next day the king and his sister,
accompanied by Festus and other persons of quality, came into
the court with a magnificent retinue, where the prisoner was
brought forth before him.
" Hereupon Agrippa told the Apostle he had liberty to make
his o-wn defence ; to whom, after silence had been enforced, he
particularly addressed himself. But who knows not that
celebrated speech, fi-om which, astonished at the fervid eloquence
of the Apostle, the Roman governor considered Paul to be beside
himself; while the Je"wish king was ' almost persuaded to
become a Christian ? '
" After the conference, it was finally resolved that St. Paul
should be sent to Rome ; in order whereunto he was, "with some
other prisoners of note, committed to the charge of Julius, com
mander of a company belonging to the legion of Augustus,
Accompanied by St. Luke, Aristarchus, Trophimus, and some
others, in September, A.D. 56, or as others, 57, he went on board
a ship of Adramyttium."
How interesting to reaUze the scene of his lea"nng the soil of
Palestine, which he was destined never to revisit ! We see the
splendid city, witb its marble houses and votive columns, its
temples and its theafres, its port crowded with many-oared
vessels, from every part of the Roman empire, from Italy, fi-om
Egypt, from the Syrian coast, the pro"nnces, and Asia Minor.
We hear the noisy din of various languages ; and mark the
different physiognomies and splendid costumes of the many
subjects of the great Roman empfte, who meet upon the crowded
quay — some actively engaged in the labours of the port, others
lingering idly in picturesque gi-oups beneath the marble colon
nades of Herod. The wind is fair — the " ship of Adramyttium "

156 RUINS OF CESAREA.
is ready— the passengers hasten on board. Among them, un
noticed amidst the busy throng, advances " the poor prisoner of
Jesus Christ," weak of body, but of spirit indomitable — the in
trepid, the noble Paul. A few friends, members of the persecuted
yet growing Church of Christ, are around him ; with swelling
hearts, with tearful eyes, they invoke the blessing of their common
Lord upon the departing Apostle ; grieving the most, like those of
Miletus, " lest they should see his face no more." They watch
him on board ; the sails swell to the southern wind, and the ship,
gliding by temples, and columns, and palaces, out of the mouth
of the harbour, soon appears a speck upon the blue bosom of the
Mediterranean. How changed is now the scene thus hallowed by his parting
presence ! As I stood with my companion upon the solitary
beach, the low, monotonous roll of the surge was the only sound
that broke the mournful stillness. Tower and palace were
prosteate — the materials hewn for the city of Herod, and since
-wrought into the buildings of a later age, themselves fast
crumbling, were fallen in huge masses into the waves. The
numerous columns which once adorned the port, now scattered on
a rocky reef, are heaped "with sea-weed, and chafed and wom by
the breakers of the shipless sea. It is a scene of utter ruin — of
forlorn and shapeless desolation. Yet, in the midst of the -wreck,
and rising above the waves, though portions are submerged,
appear solid foundations of Roman masonry; not improbably
a part of the splendid quay or landing-place mentioned by
Josephus, which Herod built, and which the feet of Paul must
have trodden. It juts out far into the sea, a truly memorable
relic. Upon it, at its junction "with the shore, stands, ruin upon
ruin, a mouldering and half prostrate edifice of Gothic consteuc
tion, a memorial of the times of the Crusades. A solitary Arab
was prowling stealthily among the ruins as we landed.
Ascending from the shore, we reach the enclosed site of a
town, its every building prostrate, but surrounded with a fosse

SARACENIC REMAINS. 157
and a waU of solid constraction, which Irby and Mangles regard
as Saracenic ; and that doubtless enclosed the city which, in the
middle ages, succeeded the one built by Herod, and was erected
from its materials. Little beyond a few scattered fragments were
in sight. Beyond these Saracenic walls, in the south, the same
fr-avellers found a column of marble, with a Roman inscription of
the emperor Septimius Severus, but too much buried to allow
a copy to be taken. The Roman remains extend beyond the
Umits of the above-named walls, and far to the north there are
ruins of arches, and of a wall, apparently part of an aqueduct,
for supplying- the to-wn. The city was also rebuilt and became
famous in the middle ages, but for how brief a period its deserted
site must vouch.
This coast, -with its castles, so famous in the Crusades, the
scene of many a warlike encounter between Christian and
Saracen, who have piled upon the grand "wrrecks of the Jews and
Romans the more perishable monuments of their temporary
occupation, wUl never more " echo with the world's debate."
" There -was a day when they -were young and proud.
Banners on high, and battles pass'd below;
But they -who fought are in a bloody shroud.
And those which waved are shredless dust ere now ;
And those bleak battlements shall bear no future blow."
Yet, SO long as time shall spare a single relic to point out the site
of Csesarea, the pilgrim shall repair with reverence to the shore
haUowed by the eloquence of Paul, and to the ruinous mole
whence he departed from Jerasalem, on his last vogage, to bear
the tidings of salvation to the Western world.
On awaking the next morning, no time was wasted at our
toilette, for we were aU ready dressed. The sun was rising in
glory behind Mount Lebanon. Our picturesque old bark, with
her huge latine sails, flew steadily along under the pressure of
the Ught breeze ; and the fresh odours from the sea, "with our
prosperous progress, contributed to put us into excellent spirits.

158 JAFFA.
After our ablutions, Achmet was soon ready with a breakfast of
coffee, bread, eggs, and fruit. We sat in the pleasant shadow of
the sail ; maps and guide-books were pulled out, and every point
of that memorable coast successively made out and commented
on. I was perfectly delighted with the intelligence of my com
panion, and never, surely, did any traveller, male or female, give
so little trouble, and enter into everything -with such a spftit of
quiet, heartfelt enjoyment. And thus we sailed along, past
Sidon, and past Tyre, till, as the sun's fiery baU dropped into
the western waters, we reached the promontory of Mount Carmel
and its white convent, looking out over the lonely, "wide-spread
sea. As night came on, aU dropped asleep again, huddled
together in the general receptacle.
On reaching Jaffa the next afternoon, a teibe of half-naked
Arabs rushed shouting into the water, and bore us, lady and all,
triumphantly into the to"wn. The notion of a woman wandering
about by herself was so unintelligible to the crew and Arabs,
that I was, of com-se, looked upon as her lawful proprietor and
protector ; and it was rather embarrassing how to get rid of this
honour, and, at the same time, to provide comfortably for my
companion. Fortunately, there proved to be an Austrian consul
in the place, and to his custody, as a German, I desfted Achmet
to consign her for the night.
Jaffa is but thirty miles from Jerusalem, and, by starting very
early in the morning, I intended to get there that evening.
Accordingly, long before sunrise I had ordered horses to be ready,
and sent Achmet to fetch Madame from the Austrian consul's,
where she had been very kindly teeated by the ladies of his
family. It was one of the hottest days of a Syrian summer ; the
half-cultivated plains, parched up by the summer heat, were
destitute of shade and verdure, and haunted by myriad swarms
of insects ; our supply of water was soon exhausted, and had it
not been for the peasant girls of the "nUages, who brought forth
pitchers to gain a few paras from a passing teaveller, we should

APPROACH JERUSALEM. 159
have suffered cruelly. But not a single miu-miu-, not even a
indication of impatience, ever escaped the lips of my surprising
feminine companion dm-ing the whole of this burning day.
After a most blessed halt at a well, and an hour's repose under
the shadow of a solitary fig-te-ee, we pushed into the wild defiles
of the hiU counte-y of Judsea, so narrow in places that but one at
a time can pass, famous of old besides for their insecurity, and
as the scene of many an oufrage and many a murder perpetrated
upon the pilgrims to Jerusalem. Our progress through these
ravines was so much slower than we anticipated, that we were
benighted at a -nllage in the mountains. We halted in the court
of a ruinous mosque, and established our quarters under its vaulted
cloisters. The village sheik, who had sent us a huge pilau for
supper, came do"wn for a while to visit us. At length we betook
ourselves to our respective dormitories on the gi-ound ; but sleep
refused to visit our eyes : we had reached, we found, to within
three hours of Jerusalem. Restless and excited, about midnight,
I desfted Achmet to prepare for departure — our companion,
I found, had been as wakeful as myself. At midnight, the
camels sleeping around us in groups, we stumbled forth by star-
Ught from the court of the mosque, and picked our uncertain
way among the oUve-groves surrounding the village.
The road was a mere horse-path do-wn slippery slabs of rock
into the hoUow of a precipitous ra-vine : in the dark, it was one
succession of sUdes and stumbles from top to bottom. I soon
lost sight of Madame, who had advanced ahead of me, but hailed
her from time to time "with loud shouts, to which she responded
in more subdued tones. At the bottom of the valley I overtook
her, and we hastened onwards towards the bourne of our joumey.
My own excitement was beyond anything I ever experienced —
the mind of my companion was no less absorbed, and thus we
paced on side by side in the dim starlight, without exchanging
more than an occasional syUable. At length the light broke
gradually in faint red bars behind a dark wa"vy summit — it was

160 FIRST IMPRESSION OF THE HOLY CITY.
the Mount of Olives ! A long Une of walls, "with here and there
a tower and dome, loomed up and began to redden with the
increasing light ; and as the crimson streaks became more and
more intensely vivid, with a feeling more like dreaming than
waking, we found ourselves at the gate of Jerusalem. While
the sentinel within was unbarring it, we held a brief consultation,
when it was decided that I should remit the pilgrim-lady to her
legitimate protectors, the monks of the Roman CathoUc convent,
while I sought out for myself the abode of a friend who was
then locum tenens for the absent consul.
It is not my intention to give here a topographical description
of Jerusalem, which I have done elsewhere, but merely to devote
a few pages to those localities particularly connected with our
Saviour and his Apostles.
The fft-st impression of the Holy City seldom answers to pre
conceived expectations, either as to extent or magnificence.
Accustomed to the vastness of modern capitals, nothing seems
so startling as the narrow dimensions of cities that have played
so conspicuous a part in the history of the ancient world. This
is particularly the case as regards Jerusalem. Wherever the
visitor may station himself, his eye easily takes in its entire
circuit — no larger, to use a familiar illustration, than that of the
Regent's Park ; and when he scans the natme of the site, — a
lofty plot of table-land, circumscribed by deep and rugged
ra-nnes, — it is e-ndent that the main features of the scene remain
unchanged ; and that, allo"wing for a considerable extension along
the level ground to the north, the city in its most palmy days
could never have been more than about four miles in cftcuit ;
while the circumference of Syracuse is said to have been twenty
miles, that of Rome nearly fifteen, and that of Alexandria, at
one time, nearly the same. This induces a very natural scepti
cism as to the immense population said by Josephus to have
been congregated in such confined Umits.
No city in the world has undergone more desolating changes

PECULIARITY OP ITS SITE. 161
than Jerusalem; her buildings have been repeatedly over-
thro-wn, and the work of identification becomes proportionably
difficult. In a city built upon a plain, if the monuments be lost, the
knowledge of its original position might be lost with them ; in
Jerusalem it is otherwise, the site itself being so peculiar and
strildng that mistake is impossible.
If we ascend any of the neighbouring heights, we cannot for
a moment doubt but that all the great features of the scene,
displayed Uke a map beneath us, subsist unaltered. The moun
tains that rise round about her, and the deep rugged glens, are
the same as ever ; the paths and roads indicated by convenience
would naturaUy remain the same; no fraud, pious or mercenary,
could possibly succeed. But when we step beyond this, and
seek to identify the precise locality of particular buildings, all
is confusion and uncertainty. So little remains of Jewish times,
and "with that little is intermingled so much of modern addition,
that even the precise place of the temple, the most prominent
edifice in the city, is yet a matter of dispute. When we de
scend to minutise, or reach the period of monkish tradition, we
are involved in increased obscurity, and compeUed to maintain
a general scepticism.
It follows that the interest taken by a teaveller should be pro
portioned to the above distinction. The natm-al featmes of the
landscape should first engage his attention, as they will leave the
deepest impression upon his memory. Let him ascend the
Mount of Olives, and thence survey the outspread city — let him
descend and Unger amidst the ancient frees which still stretch out
their gnarled limbs at its foot — let him trace the path to Bethany,
and familiarize himseft "with the same scenery which, near two
thousand years ago, saluted the eyes of the Sa"nour. To have
seen these things alone, is to have seen Jerasalem, however
interesting to the antiquary may be the study of the antiquities
within its walls. M

162 BETHANY.
Of all places in the immediate neighbourhood, there is none to
which so much interest attaches as Bethany. It was here that
our Saviour appears to have formed the tenderest of his friend
ships, and to have retired from the turbulence of the city, and
the pursuit of his enemies, to the enjoyment of social ties.
There is no mention of the circumstances under which his
acquaintance "with Lazarus and his sisters originated, but the few
glimpses of his "nsits to theft house which we obtain through
the a"wful scenes which terminate in the crucifixion, show that
a cordial and tender intimacy subsisted between them: there,
as some think, Jesus lay- concealed during his later and unex
pected "nsits to the metropolis ; and here, in general, he passed
the nights during the week of the last Passover, seasons of retfte-
ment that seem more tranquil and precious in the midst of those
terrible circumstances by which he was surrounded as " his hour
drew near."
There is something in the character of the spot which well
harmonizes with such associations. Eastward of Jerusalem rises
from the deep valley which flanks its walls, the lofty height
of the Mount of Olives, completely overlooking it, and of course
cutting off all further prospect in that dft-ection from the city
itself On the opposite slope of this Mount, and nearly at its
foot, is Bethany, only about two miles fi-om Jerusalem, and yet
with an air of retirement and'seelusion hardly to be expected at
so short a distance.
The -nUage consists of but about twenty flat-roofed houses,
haft embowered in the olive-trees, which are scattered about the
Mount above. To any one approaching it, as our Saviom- did,
from the wild solitudes through which runs the road to Jericho,
and which furnished him with the appropriate scene of the
parable of the Good Samaritan, Bethany appears Uke a nest in
a grove at the extreme verge of cultivation.
It is not probable that the placewas at any time much more
extensive than at present. There are a few vestiges of antiquity

FOOTWAY TO JERUSALEM. 163
about it, such as the remains of a square tower, and some large
hewn stones in the houses, which formed part of more ancient
edifices. The inhabitants are all peasants, and the place looks
poor and neglected.
Tradition, of course, has not been idle here, and the Tomb of
Lazarus, as well as the houses of Martha and Mary, and Simon
the Leper, are still shown to teavellers. There are traditions so
pa.lpably absm-d and puerile, or so evidently improbable as to
site, that it would be folly to accept of them. There are others
so plainly corroborated by local e"ndence as to be almost incon
trovertible. Perhaps that of the Tomb of Lazarus may be
placed midway between these categories. A flight of steps leads
do"wn into the vault, which is cut into sepulchral recesses. And
even if there be but little e-ndence in behalf of the identity of
the tomb, yet as it conveys with the surrounding scenery a
characteristic picture of this humble -village, the reader may not
be sorry to have a representation of it in this place.
It would appear from the historical notices collected by
Robinson, that a church formerly existed over this tomb, and
that a convent of Black Nuns was founded at Bethany, by
Melesinda, queen of King Fulco of Jerusalem. This convent
was afterwards granted to the Knights Hospitallers, but in two
centuries of con-vulsion it had ceased to exist, and Bethany re
tumed to its original state, that of a retfted suburban hamlet.
If there is any path in Palestine which we may feel certain
was teodden by the feet of Jesus, it is that leading from
Bethany, across the Mount of Olives, to Jerusalem. It is incon-
testible that whether for ease, privacy, or enjoyment, the short,
quiet, and pleasant footway would be chosen before the dusty and
frequented road. Let us endeavour then to bring this path and
its adjacent scenery with something of daguerreotjrpe minuteness
before the eye of the reader.
We "wiU suppose ourselves just lea"ving behind the last houses
of the "viUage, low and flat roofed, built of rough materials, and
M 2

164 PATH OVER THE MOUNT OF OLIVES.
coated with coarse whitened cement, with a single door and
"window. In front, Arab women, brown skinned but comely, in
long blue robes, which outUne gracefuUy to the figure, are plying
the spinning reel, or balancing theft raddy offspring upon their
shoulders, as they gaze "with keen black eye upon the passing
Frank. We leave them,. and immediately begin the gradual ascent of
the Mount of Olives. The path runs through a corn-field ; it is
rugged and stony ; huge blocks of rock, around which spring up
clusters of biight-colom-ed wild flowers, are studded among the
scanty wheat. We should not faU to notice an enormous walnut-
tree, which might attract notice even in woody England, and is
very striking in a country so devoid of large teees as Palestine.
The path now becomes more ragged, stony, and abrupt, the com
thinner, till it gives place to the bare side of the hUl; bright
green after the rains, but dusty and sad in summer. Looking
back, Bethany is seen nestling below in its dark covert of teees,
overhung by the hills of the desert, hot, bro-wn, and indescribably
desolate, — a -wilderness of jagged, red, and yellow peaks, shapeless
and horrid. Overtopping them all is the distant range of the
Moab mountains. Who, that has been at Jerusalem, but re
members theft pecuUar pink and "violet colouring, intense beyond
conception in our neutral-tinted countey ! Now come the oUves,
thinly scattered over the sacred hill, some evidently very ancient ;
their teunks are generally twisted about fantastically, — their ste-ag-
gling roots dive in between the clefts of rocks, or, void of earthy
covering, project, skeleton like, out of the stony ground. Their
foUage is thin and sombre, the oval leaf a dark duU green above,
and silvery beneath, and there is a pecuUar sadness in their low
soft rustle when agitated by the gusty breeze. A shepherd or
two in a bro"wn steiped dress, and legs and face still bro"wner, is
seated at the foot of one of these grey teunks, and a flock of goats,
with long and silken haft, of dark bro"wn, glossy bluish black,
dull yellow, or white, is scattered about the arid, rocky soil.

sir-'

^^'

VIEW FROM THE SUMMIT. 165
We are now not very far from the ridge of the hill, some
distance below the summit of which, a domed building, and a
smaU tower peep up above the trees. This is the Chm-ch of the
Ascension, so called after the event the exact site of which it is
supposed to point out. This is a matter keenly conteoverted,
and concerning which no certainty either way is attainable —
suffice it to say, the very conspicuousness of the spot alone casts
a degree of improbability over the tradition.
But we are now at the crest of the Mount, and Jerusalem is
roUed out, map-Uke, below — in all its essential features, its bold
hiUs and sunken valleys, the same as they expanded before the
Sa-nom-'s eye, wlien he came up from the first scene of his minisfry
in Galilee. On a projecting knoll of the hill stands a small
chapel, of monkish origin, marking the supposed spot where, in
the midst of his awe-struck disciples, Jesus prophesied the im
pending ruin of Jerusalem ; and arbitrary as may be its selection,
it is probably enough at no great distance from the real one.
From hence the slope of the Mount of Olives, dotted over with
the teees that have given to it that name, decUnes steeply into the
Valley of Jehoshaphat. Almost at our feet, in the hollow of the
glen, appears a somewhat darker plot of these trees, within a low
stone wall, which we shall presently pass ; this is the traditional
Garden of Gethsemane. Immediately from this plot the gi-ound
rises boldly, and forms part of the huge oblong platform of stony
soil upon which the city stands, describing with its zigzag walls
and battlements an irregular area of about two miles and a half
in circuit. Deep as are the valleys below us, on the opposite side
the ground seems rather to rise from the city ; it is merely a bare
bleak ridge, whitish in hue, and spotted over with grey olives.
The principal object in the city is the great enclosure which,
disguised sis it may be by successive revolutions and modern
buildings, undoubtedly includes the site of the Jewish Temple.
As Jesus passed over the Mount from Bethphage and Bethany,
it would have been, as with the travellers of to-day, the first

166 SITE OF THE TEMPLE.
object to rivet his attention. Raised high above the valley below,
surrounded by a wall of which the course, and even most of the
materials, are probably the same to-day as they then were, it
must have presented, with the courts it enclosed, ajid the facade of
the Temple casting back a dazzling lusfre from its golden oma
ments, a spectacle to call forth the enthusiastic admiration of his
disciples, and, though mingled in his mind with a feeUng of
sadness at its impending desolation, even that of their Master
himself. To the rude Galilean peasants, wonderstruck at the
first sight of their national fane, seeming as if built for eternity,
and eliciting their applauding exclamation, " Master, see what
manner of stones, and what buildings are here!" how a"wful must
have been the announcement that " there was not one stone upon
another, which should not be thrown down." The dread predic
tion is accomplished, and there exists no trace above ground of
the Temple itself ; but its solid and immovable foundations yet
remain : some of the enormous masses of which its defensive waUs
were built, are still, even at this distance, plainly distinguishable
from the smaller and inferior masonry above them.
Within this area, then, ignorant as we may be of the precise
part of it which the Temple itself occupied, took place the scenes
of our Sa"nour's life so -vividly nairated by the evangelists, fi-om
his fftst arrival at Jerusalem, after quitting the scene of his
labours in distant Galilee, until the hour when he was brought
before Pilate in the Castle of Antonia, which most probably
stood where now stands the house of the Moslem Governor at
the north-east angle of the enclosm-e. There, too, occurred that
stirring scene in the life of St. Paul, when, dragged out of the
Temple-courts by the infuriated Jews, he was with difficulty
rescued by the guard stationed in the Antonia, and stood on the
steps to harangue his persecutors. From the ground we stand
upon, the theatre of these momentous transactions is unmis-
takeably to be traced out.
This great enclosure is now covered with grass, and adorned

SITE OF THE HOLY SEPULCHRE. 167
with groups of umbrageous plane-trees and cypresses. In the
centee, standing where the Temple is generally supposed to have
stood, is the beautftul octagonal Mosque of Omar, with its grace-
ftd dome, raised on a marble platform, to which access is had by
elegant gateways of pointed arches. Another mosque even more
extensive, but less beautiful and conspicuous, that of El Aksa,
abuts upon the southern waU of the enclosm-e.
Thus far we are upon safe ground, and may believe "with un
hesitating con-viction that we are looking- upon the general scene
of our Sa-nour's Ufe and labom-s at Jerusalem. But with regard
to those of his death and burial, it is far otherwise ; for although
no doubt these events also happened somewhere "within the range
of prospect before us, yet of the precise locality it would seem
that no satisfactory knowledge is to be attained. Amidst the
labyrinth of white and domed edifices seen beyond the Temple
enclosm-e, midway, as it were, between that and the city wall, is
a group of Gothic towers and domes, which marks the site of the
Church of the Holy Sepulchre. There, for several centuries, the
mass of pUgrims have been accustomed to resort with a feeling
of undoubting confidence. Yet nothing- has been more warmly,
not to say acrimoniously, contested among the learned, even to
the present day, than the genuineness of this locality. Knowing,
as we do, that the crucifixion took place "without the city wall, and
that Jerusalem was at that time extensive and populous, our ma
ture reflections but seem to confirm the first involuntary impres
sion, that this can hardly be the real spot. Yet many who have
scrutinised the matter most narrowly, are only the more fuUy
satisfied. The most exteaordinary theory is the recent one of
Mr. Ferguson, who regards the Mosque of Omar itseft as the
Church which was originaUy built by Constantine, over what
was pointed out to him as the sepulchre of Christ, and "visited
and described as such by early pilgrims ; and when the Saracens
eventually drove out the Christians from the sacred enclosure,
the latter, as he believes, transferred the site to the present

168 GARDEN OF GETHSEMANE.
foundation, even, as we shall presently see, some others were un
doubtedly changed. Altogether this subject is at the present
moment in a state of inextricable bewilderment, very stimulating
to antiquarian curiosity and disputation, but preventive of all
sober conviction in the mind of an impartial inquirer.
Let us now descend from the height of Olivet, by the footway
which, worn among the rocks, winds down the hill-side, some
times over the bare slope, at others beneath the chequered shade
of the foliage. As we get lower down, the interior of the city is
concealed, and nothing meets the eye but the long line of dead
walls, rising above the gloomy valley into the depth of which we
have descended. This path, which from its nature and locality
must have been often imprinted with the footsteps of OUR
Lord and his Apostles, brings us out at the same group of
olive-trees alluded to as the Garden of Gethsemane. It perhaps
tends, on one hand, to establish the truth of the te-adition, that
this plot of ground is close to the path we have been describing ;
but, on the other hand, unless it were enclosed within high walls,
which may well have been the case, its proximity to what was then,
if not now, a well-frequented public road, would seem to render
it unsuitable as a place of especial retirement, either for the pur
poses of devotion, or as a concealment from watchful enemies.
Be this as it may, this group of eight oUve-trees has upon it a
certain stamp of sadness which cannot fail to affect those who are
prepared to feel rather than disposed to cavil. Leaping the low
wall, we find ourselves in the plot of poor stony soil, which
has so long nourished these ancient trees. Their trunks are of
a girth enormous in proportion to their height, and their roots are
wildly gnarled and twisted, such portions as had projected fi-om
the earth being now protected by a terrace of fresh soil, built up
with stones. In some places the gi-ey foliage of the different
trees meets overhead, and casts a trembling shadow upon the
earth beneath. Pacing round the enclosure, and looking out
through the openings in the trees, every object is fuU of sombre

ENTRANCE OF JERUSALEM. 169
melancholy. On one hand towers the high dead waU of the
Temple, on the other the slope of Olivet, and between them the
bare ashy-coloured cliffs of the funereal valley of Jehoshaphat.
It is mournful even by day ; what is it then when sunk in shadow
-with the last red light of evening lingering upon the top of the
Mount above? There is then no one, however hardy his scep
ticism, who can read the event said to have occmTed within these
shades, and not feel himself strangely and powerfully influenced.
Let us return again to the path. Here, looking over the wall
opposite to the Garden, we glance down into a court excavated
in the rock, at the end of which is the picturesque " Tomb of the
Vft-gin," so denominated by an undistinguishing te-adition. A
few paces on, passing under the shade of the olives, we cross the
dry bed of the " brook Kidron" by a bridge. He who looks here
for the bright rushing steeam with which his fancy may have
fondly identified it, will be sorely disappointed. The brook is
nothing but a dry watercourse, filled with drift sand and whiten
ing pebbles, brought down by the periodical rains.
We cross it, and immediately ascend to the city gate by a
broken rugged path, or set of paths, straggling up the bare side
of the hill, with here and there a stunted olive. Gethsemane is
sunk at our feet, OUvet rises behind, with its three rounded
peaks, its furrowed pathways, and its scanty foliage. We have
now reached the city wall, and prepare to pass it through St.
Stephen's Gate, a pointed mediseval archway, occupying most
probably the site of a more ancient edifice. One or two brigand-
looking soldiers, in dirty white dresses and red caps, are idly
lounging under the gateway. A group of Tm-kish women, en
veloped in loose white wrappers, which leave nothing -nsible but
theft almond-shaped, dark eyes, pass, shadow-like, under the
portal to take theft seat in the adjacent cemetery. They are fol
lowed by a couple of sandalled monks, in long bro"wn robes of
coarse serge, girt round with a white cord, on their way perhaps
to some neighbouring convent.

-_J

170 TU DOLOROSA.
We have alluded to the change of fradition at Jerusalem, and
here is a notable instance of it. The church built over what, in
the worst times of monkish tradition, not to say pious fraud, were
declared to be the bones of St. Stephen, stood on the opposite
side of the city, and the gateway adjacent to it was called after
the protomartyr's name. It was totally destroyed, however, by
the Moslems, and now we find it most marveUously teansported
to the existing site. This is but a bad introduction to the
legendary localities within the walls, which we are now about to
enter. Pass we under the deep-vaulted gateway, and a long, narrow
sfreet is before us, bordered "with edifices evidently mediseval or
modern ; some lying in heaps of ruin, and others in a state of
dilapidation and decay. And when we consider the amazing
number of revolutions that have swept Jerusalem as "with the
besom of destruction, there needs no other e-vidence of the credu
lity or fraud which would seek to identify the houses of Lazarus
and Dives, the place where the cock crew when Peter denied
his Lord, and the many other spots where New Testament
incidents are said to have occurred, even if the very monuments
by the modern style of their architecture did not prove the
absurdity of the tale. But, aU allowance made for these changes,
it is not altogether improbable, to say the least, that the sfreets
may yet retain much of their original direction. In a city of
such limited size as Jerusalem, and, moreover, so strongly
marked as to site, nothing is more likely, as we see at the present
day in oriental cities, than that the houses should be rebuilt very
much upon the line which convenience or necessity originally
dictated. This consideration would seem to give some degree of plausi
bility, at least, to the tradition that the " Via Dolorosa," (or, as
it may be freely translated, the " Path of Sorrow,") and which
is the street in which we now stand, is that along which our
Sa-viour, burdened with his cross, ascended to the place of

DOUBTFUL SITES. 171
crucifixion. The scene of his condemnation, we know, was the
governor's house, adjacent to the temple, upon which this street
abuts. A picturesque archway — a piece of ancient and modern
patchwork, called that of the " Ecce Homo," from whence Pilate
is said to have displayed Jesus to the populace— here bestrides
the street, which, long, winding, and narrow, hence descends
into and crosses the hoUow which runs through the city. High
stone walls enclose this street on either hand, broken here and
there by a narrow Gothic portal, a small iron-barred window, or
a projecting lattice of wood-work. It is throughout gloomy, as
its name imports ; and, except at the season of the pilgrimage,
few are the passengers that frequent it.
Lea-nng the sfreet which runs along the hollow before alluded
to, the "Via Dolorosa" ascends to the Church of the Holy
Sepulchre. This, however, it is not our purpose to describe.
AU that was manifestly connected "with the life of Jesus at
Jerusalem — ^the natural features of the landscape, upon which
revolution has no power — the prominent outlines of the city,
which cannot be mistaken-^even such traditionary localities as
appear to harmonize -with probabiUty, have been afteady noted.
It forms no part of our plan to delineate in detail the monuments
of Jerusalem, nor to enter upon the interminable question as to
the genuine site of Calvary and the Holy Sepulchre.
There are one or two other places of Jerusalem connected with
New Testament narrative ; such are the Pool of Bethesda, the
Pool of Siloam, and the Aceldama, or Field of Blood — ^hateful
memento of sordid treachery. The site of the first is exteemely
doubtful, as there is no indication, either in Scripture or elsewhere,
of its teue position, unless by the cftcumstance, that an .angel is
said to have periodically troubled the water — a popular expla
nation of an ebbing and flo"wing well. Nothing at Jerusalem at
all answers, at the present day, to this description, unless it is
the so caUed Well of the Virgin, evidently a very ancient foun
tain, in the Valley of Jehoshaphat, just beneath the Temple,

173 BETHLEHEM.
in which the water occasionally rises and falls, from some cause
at present not very clearly understood, though generally supposed
to be the syphon-shaped channel by which wa.ter is said to be
conducted from the reservoirs of the temple above. The position
of the Pool of Siloam is open to no such uncertainty. It is further
down the same valley, at the mouth of the deep hollow caUed
the Tyropeon, which separated Jerusalem into two portions, pre
cisely as described by Josephus. That of the Aceldama is
probably merely traditional, but its selection dates at least from
the time of Jerome. It is on the rugged side of the Valley of
Hinnom, just above a remarkable group of ancient tombs. It
has been observed that the sum received by Judas was extremely
small for the purchase of a field, even of one from which the
fuUer's-earth had been worked out, and which was therefore
entirely barren and unproductive. It was destined by the
Sanhedrim for the "burial of strangers." A natural ca"nty,
arched over, and which served in the middle ages as a charnel-
house for pilgrims, occupies what is believed to be the spot thus
ignominiously distinguished.
Of Bethlehem I shaU say but little. The identity of the to"wn
itself is indisputable, although great doubts may reasonably be
entertained whether the toaditional Cave of the Nati"nty, over
which is erected the sumptuous Convent and Church of Helena,
is really the birthplace of Jesus, which, however, could not, in
any case, have been far distant. With the exception of this
immense fortified convent, which gives it a certain importance,
modem Bethlehem would still be the poor and insignificant
village it was when designated by the prophet as least among
the cities of Judah.
With regard to the flight into Egypt, tradition has not been
idle ; and it must be confessed that there is nothing improbable
in the locality it has fixed upon. In directing theft- steps toward
the land of refiige, Joseph and Mary would most likely take the
nearest road thither, by Gaza and Pelusium, towards Helionolis

"WELL OP AIN SHEMS. 173
and Memphis, — a distance sufficient to put them beyond the
reach of pursuit, without being inconveniently remote from their
native counfry. Near the site of the former city, at the village
of Matarea, there is a remarkable sycamore and well, where the
Holy Family are beUeved to have taken up theft- temporary
abode. We rode out thither one moming from Cairo ; and as
this venerable free will not last for ever, there may be a certain
degree of interest in preser"ving a likeness of it (see title-page),
since, admitting this to be merely a tradition, it must at least be
admitted to be a poetical one. The old tree stands in the midst
of a smaU grove. Its frunk is hollow, and partly rent open, and
its huge branches seem ready to fall -with mere age. Its bark
is much broken off, and its wood mercilessly chipped -with
the knives of innumerable pilgrims. This hoary patriarch is
surrounded by a youthful cortege of fragrant citron and pome-
granate-fr-ees, and sundry parasitic plants have interlaced their
tendrils "with its giant limbs. A few palms stand around, as
if to do him honom- ; and it is the delight of the pigeons and
"vultures to sway to and fro upon their graceful and elastic
fans. From the edge of the grove may be seen, at scarcely
a stone's-tlirow off, the mounds and solitary obelisk of Helio
poUs. The adjacent well is called Ain Shems (the Fountain of
the Sun), reputed to be the only real spring in the valley of the
Nile, from the coolness and freshness of its water, though really
supplied, as Wilkinson says, by filteation through the banks of that
celebrated river. According to varieties of the story, this spring
was miraculously opened to supply the thirst of the wanderers, or,
being originally brackish, was sweetened by theft mftaculous
powers. There is a whole group of teaditions connected with
the Flight in the neighbourhood of Cairo. In Pietro della Valle's
time, a house at Matarea was shown as the dwelling-place of
Mary ; and at the Greek Convent at Old Cairo is another of the
Vftgin's chambers. The Mahommedans say, that Elizabeth, with
her infant John, afterwards the Baptist, also fled into Egypt.

174

MADAME PPEII'TER.

There may be, however, no value in such teaditions, except that
they seem to point out the neighbourhood in which the Holy
Family did really seek refuge from the violence of Herod.
During my stay at Jerusalem I saw but little of Madame
Pfeiffer, but on joining some teavellers who were about to go
down to the Jordan and the Dead Sea, — an excursion which,
though short, is both fatiguing and perilous, she proved to be
one of the party. At nightfall we reached the exteaordinary
convent of St. Saba, among the wild deserts of the Jordan, and
here I found that, lest the sanctity of the brethren should be
compromised, women were never admitted "within the walls,
a soUtary tower "without being appointed as their receptacle, and
that to this tower she had been conducted. Thither, as in duty

LADY S TOWER.

bound, being desftous that she should have aU the comforts their
somewhat "scant courtesy" allowed, I immediately repaired,
accompanied by a lay brother, who was honoured "with the
appointment of groom of the chamber to lady pilgrims. Stumbling

lady's tower. 175
in the dark over the rocky ground, we reached at length the base
of the tower, standing, quite isolated, upon the brink of a tre
mendous precipice. Here the lay brother, handing me the supper-
basket, planted a ladder so as to form a communication "with the
portal, which was elevated some twenty feet above the ground,
and then, ascending, I following literally close at his heels, drew
forth a key and unlocked the small heavy door which gave access
to this female asylum, or rather prison. The room we entered
was empty, and, by another ladder, we ascended to the upper
story, which was furnished with some little attention to the bodily
comforts, but also to what seemed to be more consulted, the
spftitual edification of its gentle inmates. Pictures and images
of saints adomed the waUs of a small oratory, niched into
the side of the apartment, and over which a few lamps cast
a dim uncertain gleam, leaving its exteemities in gloomy
obscurity. Upon a low divan sat the object of our search, with
her usual expression of calm and fearless teanquillity. Her
simple supper was brought forth, and while she was engaged
with it, I asked her whether she did not feel timid at being left
in utter solitude. In fact, the dim, dreary look of this upper
chamber, the total darkness of the lower one, and the a-wful
stillness of both, were weU calculated to act upon a nervous
imagination, and to awaken a train of dismal and superstitious
fancies. When Captain Basil Hall and his daughters visited
the place, the ladies had refused to be thus incarcerated, and
stormed away till aUowed to enter the convent walls. Not so,
however, the German pilgrim ; she declared that she never was
more comfortable, and refused my offer to remain on guard in
the lower story of the tower. Accordingly, we departed, and
locked her up snug for the night.
Long before sunrise next moi-ning, we were all, including
Madame, mustered before the gate of the convent, and descend
ing from the elevated region of Mar Saba, reached the desolate
shores of the Dead Sea before noon, from whence, suffering

176 FORD OF THE JORDAN.
intensely with heat and thftst, we made our way across the
desert valley to the verdant banks of the Jordan, which we
reached at the bathing-place of the Greek pilgrims. The Latin
monks, their rivals in holy places, have another for their followers
further up the stream, near to a spot where there exist the ruins
of a convent dedicated to St. John the Baptist, and each party
sfrenuously contends for the genuineness of its respective site,
as being that where John baptized the people unto repentance,
and where Jesus himself submitted to the rite. It is enough to
know that the place was near Bethabara, the ford of the Jordan,
over against Jericho, and which tradition has pointed out as the
place where the children of Israel passed over to the assault of
that city. No spot, it must be confessed, could be more suitable
or more wildly picturesque, than that where we now took refuge
from the insufferable heat of the sun. The river, as was always
the case, pours through a sultry desert, but its banks present
a sort of double channel, the lower fUled at ordinary times, the
upper when its waters are periodically swoUen, thus creating
an oasis of -wild and tangled vegetation, a maze of cane brakes
and creepers, with thickets of "willow and other trees, amidst
which it was easy to picture the figure of the Baptist "with his
raiment of camel's-hair, and his leathern gftdle, dispensing
the purifying rite to the trembling and repentant crowd.
When the heat had somewhat subsided, we struck across the
desert plain to the -nllage of Rihhah, traditionally regarded by
the monks as the site of Jericho, although no ancient remains
whatever are to be discovered there. The ruinous Gothic tower,
which is the principal building in the place, is, with as good
reason, pointed out as the house of Zaccheus, where our Lord
rested when passing through the city.
About half an hour from hence we reached the beautftul
spring of Ain es Sultan, where we had determined to halt for the
night. The copious stream bursting forth from its basin runs do"wn
towards Jericho, creating everywhere a rich, but, in the absence

RETURN TO JERUSALEM. 177
of judicious irrigation, useless growth of shrubs, which has
replaced the groves of palm-trees, and the exuberant vegetation
which marked this neighbourhood as one of the most fertile
under heaven. About a mile from our camp, forming the
western boundary of the broad plain of the Jordan, arose the
precipitous mountain of the " Quarantania," so called, because
it is traditionally believed that the forty days and nights of our
Lord's sojourn in the -wilderness were passed there ; while its
elevated summit, which commands a -new of half Palestine, is
fixed on as the spot whence the Tempter showed Jesus " all the
kingdoms of the earth and the glory thereof." And whether we
are to take an objective or subjective view of the Temptation, it
is at least certain that no more suitable spot for retirement from
the world could have been selected, than the horrid wilderness
of the Dead Sea, with its voiceless ravines and its arid crags, in
the caves and clefts of which, particularly here and at Mar Saba,
thousands of anchorites once took up their habitation.
I have now briefly summed up all that fairly pertains to my
present subject ; the fraditional locaUties connected with the life
of Jesus in the region of Judsa. The conclusion is obvious
— that while we find all the general features of the country
stUl subsisting, and with so little alteration as to add life
and reality to the Scripture narrative, the attempt to identify
those more minute must e-vidently be the work of fancy or of
fraud. Next day we returned to Jerusalem, by the road " from Jeru
salem to Jericho," where, in the parable of om- Lord, the man
feU among thieves, and was relieved by the good Sarnaritan.
From this it would appear that the road was then as proverbially
insecure, as it is at the present day.
At Jerusalem I lost sight of my earnest and intrepid fellow-
traveller, Madame Pfeiffer, who lingered there some time after
my departure. I had been surprised at her powers of endurance
dming a joumey which, short as it was, from the heat of the
N

178 ANOTHER MEETING
weather, and the character of the country, had tried us all pretty
severely. Some years elapsed before I could gain any authentic
information conceming her movements, except that she had safely
terminated her joumey to Palestine, and had published an account
of it. Imagine, therefore, my surprise, when I chanced, through
a newspaper paragraph, to learn that she was then in the -vicinity
of London, and accessible to a visit. As her host resided at some
distance from town, a meeting was appointed at his counting-house
in the city. From Jerusalem to Crutched Friars was certainly a
rather abrupt transition, and as I pushed my way through the
multifarious obstructions of our crowded streets to the place of
rendezvous, I could not help speculating as to what changes had
been "wrrought by the interval of time and incidents of teavel that
had occurred since our previous meeting.
I reached the house, hurried up two flights of dftty stairs,
tapped at the door of an office differing in no respect from the
thousand dark and dingy ones in the city. " Come in," was
the response; and on entering, in the shadow of the room and
looking strangely out of place in the midst of a heap of ledgers
and day-books, was, sure enough, the weU-remembered face of
my old fellow-traveller, who rose and received me "with the most
lively expression of satisfaction. I, too, was rejoiced to find no
change for the worse in the appearance of my friend after so
severe an ordeal as a jom-ney round the world.
After exchanging our mutual congratulations, the conversation
(which was carried on in French, Madame speaking English but
imperfectly) naturally turned upon the subject of her recent
journey. Reminding her of our original meeting on the shores
of Palestine, and of the indifference -with which she encountered
fatigue and hardship on that occasion, I playfully observed
" that I considered that she had served her apprenticeship to
myself, and that I had always boasted of a pupft who had left
her tutor so infinitely behind." She admitted that it was even
so, and that her power of bearing privation, tested in that

"WITH MADAME PFEIPFER. 179
journey, together with the taste for travelling she then acquired,
had led her to meditate still more extensive wanderings.
" It was after my journey to Iceland, which followed that
into Palestine — "
" Iceland! my dear madame ! " I exclaimed, with a sudden
start. "Why, I had not the slightest notion you had ever
visited that country."
" Oh yes, and published a book about it," was her quiet reply ;
and she immediatelyresumed, — "After this Iceland joumey, then,
I left Vienna and embarked at Hamburgh for Rio Janeiro, and,
after remaining some time on the coasts of Brazil, penetrated
into the interior, -fisited the savage tribes, and crossing the con
tinent of South America, reached Valparaiso, which, as you
know, is on the shores of the Pacific Ocean. Thence I crossed
over to the island of Tahiti, where, during my stay, I was upon
the most intimate terms -with Queen Pomare. Leaving that
beautiful spot, I crossed the wide Pacific Ocean to Canton, and
there penefrated the Chinese quarter, into which Europeans are
forbidden to enter. Such a sight had never been seen in
Canton before. The people gathered in crowds, the women held
up theft children as I passed along, the curiosity and amusement
of the people were prodigious, and your gracious Queen, on the
opening of the Exhibition, could hardly be more run af^er than
was my poor insignificant self."
" And were you not horribly afraid?" I inquired.
" Not in the least," was the reply.
" And did you meet with no insult?"
" Not the slightest. Nothing could exceed the civility of the
people. After fraversing the city, my Chinese guides brought
me to the house of an EngUsh merchant, who could scarcely
beUeve that I had come off scathless from so unprecedented an
enterprise. Well, from Canton I went to several of the principal
ports of China, and then, touching at Singapore, made my
way to Ceylon, where, not satisfied with remaining at Point de
n2

180 MADAME PFEIFFER'S
Galle, I visited the capital, Kandy. Calcutta was the next
point of my journey. I ascended the Ganges on the deck of
a bungalow, went far into the interior, examined the antiquities,
"visited the courts of some of the native princes, by whom I was
kindly received, and, satisfied "with my survey of India, retumed
to the coast, embarked for the Persian Gulf, and then, ascending
the Tigris, looked in upon Dr. Layard in the midst of his exca
vations at Nineveh."
Such a narrative of adventure, and from the mouth of a
female, might well take away one's breath. I really seemed to
be dreaming as I looked upon the frail Uttle body before me,
and heard her describe a de-nous career Uke this with far less
excitement of manner than the mistress of a cockney boarding-
school would throw into her account of the perils of a joumey
to Boulogne. " What next ? " I inwardly exclaimed, as
Madame, renewing her narrative, quietly went on.
" I entered next upon a rather dangerous journey among the
countries occupied by the wandering tribes of Kurdistan. Here
I more than once feU into the hands of robbers."
" You smely were not alone on this occasion?" I exclaimed.
" Entirely so," she replied ; " and to that cause I probably
owed my complete immunity from outrage. What could they
do? They saw before them a poor unprotected woman, advanced
in years, and with all she possessed in the world done up in
a small bundle. They would stop my horse, gaze upon me
with astonishment, ask a few questions, and then suffer me to
pass unmolested. On one occasion, being exhausted with thirst,
I begged for water from the leathern bottles they carry it about
in, and they gave it me immediately."
" Then there are many more Robin Hoods than have ever
been commemorated in song- ; there is honour even among
thieves. Human nature is the same in the forest of Sherwood
and the wilds of Kurdistan! "
" Well," she resumed ; " after I had done "with the Km-ds,

THREE years' TOUR. 181
I made my way through Persia and Circassia to the shores of
the Black Sea, along which I sailed to Constantinople; thence
to Greece, Sicily, and Italy, and so back to my own door at
Vienna, after an absence of three years. And now guess, what
do you think this journey cost me?"
Ha-ving afteady observed the simple and self-denying habits
of my old companion, I was prepared for a rather lovf estimate,
but when I considered the mere distance she had gone over,
-without allo"wing her anything to eat, I mentally named a figure,
(a sum of several hmidreds,) which some experience in travel led
me to fix upon as the very minimum of her expense. What was
my surprise, then, when she declared that she had performed
this extensive series of wanderings into the interior of so many
counteies, where the means of conveyance are almost wanting,
for the insignificant sum of a hundred and fifty pounds !
Far from her taste for te-avel having been satisfied, it seemed
only " to have gro"wn by what it fed on," and she was already
preparing for a second voyage around the globe. Although
scientific research was not to be expected from a solitary woman,
yet her teavels had not been without fruit, since she had made
collections in botany and entomology which formed a valuable
addition to the museum of Vienna. The Austrian Government
had not merely paid her for these, but had made her a present
of a hundred pounds towards the prosecution of her further
adventures ; while the Professors had given her instructions in
the best mode of preser"nng specimens, and collecting objects of
value to science.
Her intention was to go by the Cape to Austi-alia and New
Zealand, and thence to Borneo and the islands of the Indian
Archipelago. She had afteady taken her passage, and was to
sail during the following week.
Alluding to the manner in which I had re-discovered her, I
observed, that I had pre"nously gained tidings of her through
a New York newspaper, under the head of " What is talked

182 REMINISCENCES.
about," stating that she was in that city, after performing her
voyage round the world. What was then my surprise to leam,
" that she was never there in all her life," and that the statement
was a pm-e mystification, like so many others in which our trans
atlantic brethren seem to delight. " It was this account," I
remarked, " that mentioned your being wounded by a robber,
stating moreover that you had vaUantly defended yourself, and
cut off one or two of your adversary's fingers "with a knfte, and
that, I suppose, is also an invention of the editor's."
" On the contrary," she replied, " ihat is strictly trae, and
I bore away "with me a lasting memento of it ; " she then ex
tended her arm, enveloped in a muslin sleeve, and in-nted me to
make an examination of it. As I did so, my hand sunk, "with
a sickening sensation, into a hollow, midway between the elbow
and the shoulder, the token of a deep and ghastly wound,
which she "will carry "with her to the grave.
Reminiscences such as these filled up the remainder of our
interview. I was disappointed in my hope of seeing this extea
ordinary woman again before lea"nng England. Shortly after
ward she set sail upon her long and perilous enterprise, at a time
of life when most persons are ouly anxious to repose caUnly by
the fireside for the remainder of their days. Notwithstanding
the old proverb concerning " the pitcher and the well," let us
earnestly hope that she may return safe and sound to her own
home, and add another chapter to the record of her most mar
vellous experiences.

CHAPTER V.
JERUS-il-EM TO NABTJLUS AND SAMARIA — KAIM — NAZARETH — MOUNT TABOR —
TIBERIAS AND JAPHET.
Des. Robinson and Smith having identified several ancient
sites a little to the eastward of the high road from Jerusalem
to Samaria, we were induced to shape our route so as to include
them, and thus to render it, if somewhat less direct, yet con
siderably more interesting ; passing by way of Aiiata (Anathoth) ,
and Muckmas (Michmash), to Beitin, or Bethel, before regaining
the usual track.
Another interesting circuit was made to Seilun, or " Shiloh,"
where there are numerous tombs and remains of ancient edifices,
which show that it must once have been a site of some importance.
Re-entering the high road again early in the moming, we
reached, at eventide, the entrance to the valley of Nabulus, the
ancient Sichem, which turns off upon the left. The way to
Samaria and Galilee now runs up this valley to the westward,
but in all probability there was formerly a more direct road to
the eastward. Just at the point where these roads would have
intersected, is the ancient well, which, by an almost uninterrupted
teadition of Jews, Samaritans, Christians, and Mohammedans, is
said to be the same dug by the patriarch Jacob. It was by this
well that while his disciples "went to buy provisions, our Saviour
sat down previous to resuming his onward course into Galilee
without turning aside into the city; and here occurred the
scene with the Samaritan woman so vividly narrated in the
Gospel of St. John.
The scene is one that, from its few and simple elements, easily

184

JACOBS WELL.

rivets itself upon the memory. In the foreground is the mouth
of the well, nearly blocked up by stones and brambles. This
orifice is in the roof of a vaulted chamber, in which is the well
itself, which is upwards of a hundred feet to the bottom, thus
answering to the description of the Samaritan woman, " Sir, the
well is deep." It now appears to be dry. Near it, upon the
mound, are the scarcely recognisable remains of a church, which
the piety of the middle ages erected upon the spot. At a short
distance appears on a little montecule, the traditional tomb of
Joseph, a Moslem edifice, built probably over the original burial-
place; and below, is the "parcel of ground," which his father
Jacob purchased of the Shechemites. This was now waving
with corn as it was in the time of Jesus, and to this he pointed

,'--"";.^

JACOB S WELL.

when he, in his joy, metaphorically alluded to " the fields which
were already white unto harvest." Nor less vividly do the
bolder features of the landscape correspond with the Gospel
narrative. Mounts- Ebal and Gerizim, the hills of cursing and blessing,
but now rugged and barren alike, rise behind. Upon the latter,
then was, and now is, the sacred altar of the Samaritans.
To this the woman pointed when she said, " Our fathers

MOUNT GERIZIM. 185
worshipped in this mountain," a remark which drew from our
Sa-viour the sublime annunciation, that "neither in this moun
tain, nor yet at Jerusalem " should men worship the Father, but
that " the true worshippers should everywhere worship him in
spirit and in truth."
Perhaps there is no scene in Palestine more strikingly con
formable to the scripture narrative than this, or to which attaches
such a train of venerable and momentous recollections.
We pm-sued om- way into Nabulus, which is not far distant,
where we took up our abode for the night. A handful of the
Samaritans still linger here after the lapse of so many cenfriries.
We -visited their synagogue, and saw their celebrated copy of the
Pentateuch. Next morning, accompanied by a young man of
this commtmity, we ascended to the summit of Mount Gerizim,
whence the fertile valley of Nabulus is seen spread out below,
like a carpet of verdure. The principal object of interest was the
castle that cro"wns the summit, and the holy place of the Sama
ritans. This castle, which was built by Justinian, owed its
origin to an ebullition of Samaritan bigofry. The first converts
to the Christian faith were made at the time of our Lord's -visit,
and others were afterwards added by the labom-s of the Apostles,
until the city, which under the Romans was called Neapolis,
became an Episcopal see. The fanaticism of the Samaritans now
broke out in acts of "violenee ; these the Christian emperors
resented by driving them from their holy mountain, and build
ing a Christian church on its summit : as they still continued
to interrupt the worship of the Christians, Justinian built this
fortress to protect the latter from any further annoyance.
Not far from this edifice is a singular hollow, which our guide
declared to be the holy place of his people. Formerly they had
a temple on the mountain, but no remains of it have as yet been
identified. From hence there is a very striking view, embracing the holy
place, the castle, and the " parcel of ground " which Jacob bought

186

SAMARIA.

of the Shechemites, with the "nllage of " Shalim " on a small
mound, the Shalim passed by the patriarch on his route from the
banks of the Jordan, and the distant mountains on the other side
of that river.
In the afternoon we also ascended Mount Ebal, but could dis
cover no trace of bygone generations, though the "view, like that
from Gerizim, is splendid and extensive.
Pursuing our way next morning along the beautiful valley of
Nabulus, in about an hour, the bold hill of Samaria rose before
US, standing isolated in the midst of a basin of mountains, all
cultivated to their summits, a position alike strong and beautiful.
Formerly, as there is indeed monumental e"vidence to prove, the
cultivated terraces into which the hUl-side is fashioned, were

adorned with the buildings of the city. The smaU "village of
Sebustieh now occupies a portion of the site, and at the eastern
extremity is the church built by Justinian over the reputed tomb
of John the Baptist. This we were not permitted to enter ; but
on riding over the hill, came upon the remains of a splendid
colonnade, which had once been e-ndently of great extent, and

SAMARIA. 187
which was terminated to the westward by the foundations of a
gateway. This is no doubt a relic of some magnificent edifice with which
Herod adomed the city. Lower down the mountain side we
found another group of columns, which seemed as though they
had formed a part of some forum or public market-place. These
are the only apparent remains of the splendid capital where the
kings of Israel once held theft court.
There is no mention of our Saviour's personally visiting
Samaria — at that time in the very zenith of its glory ; having
been rebuilt by Herod the Great, with his customary display of
magnificence, after it had been bestowed on him by Augusfris, in
honour of whom it received the name of Sebaste, being the Greek
translation of his name. The parts about Phenice and Samaria
were visited by PhiUp after the dispersion of the Apostles ; and
here a church was gradually formed, and an episcopal see esta-
bUshed, which feU only with the ti-iumph of Mahommedanism.
The descent from the crest of the hill of Samaria is extremely
rapid, and the city, strongly fortified as it was by Herod, would
seem to have been almost impregnable ; yet no part of its waUs
are standing, and how or when they were levelled with the dust,
like aU the rest of the city, there are no accounts to show.
Hence our way led over cultivated hills and valleys of no
remark ; the isolated hill forte-ess of Sanur being- the only con
spicuous object, on the way to the edge of the great plain of
Esdraelon. In traversing Palestine, even in its present state of
decay, the mind is forcibly struck by the reflection that it con
tains much more arable land than is usually supposed, and that
the evident fruitfulness of the whole region, when cultivated as
it is in terraces, imparts to it a capacity of sustaining an immense
population. The evening view of the great plain as we came down upon
it at the village of Jenin, was enchanting. True, its level sur
face was almost bare of wood, but it was covered with richly

188 PLAIN OF ESDRAELON.
variegated crops, which caught the slanting rays of the setting
sun ; while the range of Gilboa, dark, dim, and gloomy, and the
more distant mountains towards Nazareth, assumed a fugitive
gorgeousness of effect and colom-ing. The white monuments and
flat-roofed buildings of Jenin were below, intermingled "with
graceful palms. Immense heaps of com lay in the open air,
about the threshing-floors ; and flocks and herds were slowly
making their way towards their nightly enclosures.
The traveller in Palestine should always make some sacrifice
to carry a tent, as it renders him independent of the filthy
dwellings of the natives, generally swarming with fleas, and all
sorts of vermin. It is almost humiliating to recal one's precau
tions and confrivances to obtain a comfortable night's rest. We
had been horribly tattooed at Nabulus, and some of our per
secutors having insinuated themselves into the clothes and
baggage, a good half-hour was spent in thoroughly beating and
cleansing them. The place appointed for our quarters, a raised
platform of plaster outside a cottage, was then washed and
scrubbed, together -with the neighboming walls : the swarming
mats and suspicious cushions of the natives kicked aside before
venturing to lay down the carpet and matte-ess which served as
a nightly couch. It was a long and laborious operation, but
happily crowned with entire success, and we got on horse-back
early next morning with a feeling of unaccustomed exhilaration
and -vigour.
If the plain of Esdraelon looked beautiful the evening before,
it was no less so in the bright light of morning ; and there was
besides an additional luxury — that of being able to gallop at will
over the open ground, after being confined to the walking pace
at which the ruggedness of the path generally compels one to
travel. Before noon, fdllowing the track of Robinson, we
reached Zerin, the site of Jezreel, recalling -vividly the story of
Naboth's vineyard, and the death of Jezebel ; and looking from
its crested height do"wn the long valley extending to the Jordan,

MOUNT TABOR. 189
we could distinguish the site of Beisan, the Bethshan upon which
the bodies of the fallen Israelites were displayed, after the disas-
frous battle in which Saul and Jonathan lost their lives, and
which called forth the beautiful verses of Da-vid, — " Ye moun
tains of Gilboa, let there be no dew, neither let there be rain
upon you, nor fields of offerings, for there the shield of the
mighty is -vilely cast away, the shield of Saul, as though he had
not been anointed "with oil." And in looking up to the gloomy
mountain which towers behind Jezreel, one might almost fancy
that its dark funereal-looking hollows still sympathise with the
lament of the poet. At the fountain below Jezreel, they en
camped before advancing to the fatal encounter.
The whole scene around was a fresh reading of the historical
chapters of the Old Testament, under the light of local Ulus-
te-ation. Upon the solitary-looking mountains opposite was
Megiddo; in the plain below was fought the battle between
Pharaoh Necho, King of Egypt, and the good King Josiah, in
which the latter was slain. But dark and blood-stained in
general are the annals of Old Testament history; and om-
business is "vrith the sites and scenes of New Testament
narrative. After a short rest in the "village of Zerin, we set off at a
gallop, and scarcely drew bridle till we reached that of Solam,
according to Robinson, the Shunem of the tribe of Issachar,
where the Philistines halted before the battle on Mount Gftboa.
A little beyond, we opened a second branch of the immense
plain, and the rounded cone of Mount Tabor suddenly came in
sight, standing up with a peculiar aspect of solitude in the midst
of the corn-covered expanse. On the northei-n side of the
mountain above Shunem, on a little acclivity above the plain,
was a cluster of white houses, which, on inquiry, I found to be
called Nein, the "village where our Saviour restored the widow's
son to life. It lies but Uttle out of the road, yet few travellers
ever de"viate so far. If any place, however, could tempt a

190

NAIN.

traveUer from the beaten track, it is this ; and we turned our
horses into the narrow bridle-path leading through the rastling
com-fields up to the gentle accli"nty on which the village stands.

We found, as we expected, nothing of the slightest conse
quence. Nain resembles any other of the humbler "viUages of
Palestine — a few flat-roofed houses of white cement, before the
doors of which lies, up-heaped, the corn gathered in from the
exuberant plain around. A few peasants, little accustomed to
the sight of strangers, gazed on our cavalcade -with surprise.
Women peeped out of the hovels, and a company of bright-
eyed children followed our movements with eager curiosity,
starting back half in play and half in fiight when we happened
to turn round and look at them. There was nothing in the
world beside. The -village is now what we have every reason
to suppose it was in the time of our Sa-viour — a small place,
where every joy and every sorrow that befals a member of the
little community is sympathised with by all the others. It was
easy to figure the whole of the -villagers following, with genuine
sorrow, the poor bereaved -vndow to the grave of her only son,
when they encountered the Lord of life and glory as he
ascended on foot with his disciples to the obscure hamlet from
the neighbouring corn-fields — to picture, in short, the whole

NAZARETH. 191
transaction, and all the feelings which it called into action among
this secluded circle. We were as happy to have turned aside
to Nain, as if we had discovered the site of some ancient city.
Again we descended into the plain, obtaining a pretty retro
spective "view of the village and mountain behind. The land
scape has the serene simplicity which Wordsworth has so well
characterised —
" The mountains bare, and the bare earth,
And grass ia the green field."
Another half-hom-'s ride carried us over the plain, and we struck
a narrow stony road leading over a space of grassy hills to
Nazareth. From theft summit, the secluded valley "with its white
"viUage lay at our feet, possessing, "V"vithout any peculiar beauty,
a character of sequestered tranquillity and pastoral abundance,
weU suited with its associations.
" 'Tis Nazareth in Galilee, the spot
Where, warn'd of God, obedient Joseph fled
With holy Mary, his espoused wife,
That thence the Virgin Mother's first-born Sou,
Jesus — the world's Redeemer, promised long —
Might, as the prophets had foretold, be call'd
A Nazarene."
" A spot despised through Jewry in old times,
Even as the Man of Sorrows, who thence sprang,
Was the despised, rejected amongst men.
' Comes any good thing out of Nazareth ?'
Inquired the sneering Jew."
It is now, but for the halo which will ever hang over it, and
which draws the foot of the pilgrim from the most distant land,
almost as secluded a nook as when it called forth this contemp
tuous sarcasm. It is indeed sfrange, and fortunate besides, that
while large towns have gro"wn up around the abiding places of
mediseval saints, the "village where Jesus was born has escaped
this disfiguring homage, and retained its original appearance,
probably, with as little alteration as it was possible for time to

192

NAZARETH.

work. This reflection forcibly struck us as we descended the
rock by a winding road into the sunny corn-fields, interspersed

NAZARETH.

with grey and venerable olives, amidst which the reapers were
at work, as in the days when Joseph and Mary occupied an
obscure house in this obscure hamlet, near two thousand
years ago.
On arriving at Nazareth we dismounted before the convent
gate, and Achmet ha"ving announced om- arrival, we were shortly
afterwards ushered by one of the monks into the superior's
apartment. In most other parts of Palestine, the Moslem
population outnumbers the Christian ; the contrary of this is
here the case, and thus the Nazarenes enjoy a greater degree
of independence than elsewhere. The prior of the convent,
who is the head of this community, is consequently a per
sonage of importance, combining with his spiritual no small
measure also of temporal influence. There was something like
a consciousness of this in the manner of the man in whose
presence we new stood. He was a young Italian, strikingly
handsome in person, and acutely intelligent in mien, of a type
of beauty that Vandyke would have delighted to paint. His
conventual dress of coarse brown serge was arrayed with a
certain pretension, his oval beard was carefully trimmed into

THE CONVENT. 193
shape and combed; and the fingers of the delicate white hand,
which escaped from the shaggy sleeve, were adorned with
rings, displayed, as we could not help thinking, with a sort of
studied elegance. His reception was full of courtesy, but more
like that of the man of the world than the monk ; and the con
versation, instead of turning upon Nazareth and its sacred
associations, was altogether mundane and political in its tone.
We spoke of the troubled state of the country — of the unsettled
quarrel between Mehemet Ali and the Porte — of the growing
weakness of the Moslems, and of the increasing power of the
Christians. Should any European power be disposed to rescue
the Holy Land fi-om Ottoman misrule, the natives, he assm-ed me,
would at once arise, and receive their deliverers with open arms.
"England by sea, and France by land," were, as the prior
declared, irresistible ; and should they combine their forces, the
conquest of Syria was a matter of immediate certainty. In all
this there was probably a certain reserve ; the asteite prior could
not but be aware, that the jealousy of the European powers
"with regard to each other's acquisitions of territory must long
defer, if it did not for ever prevent, their occupation of Palestine ;
and in a Catholic convent, which, like all those of the Holy
Land, was placed under the hereditary protection of France, he
would have been little disposed to accept the interference of any
other nation, even could it add to, rather than as, in fact, it
must dimimish, the -virtual independence which his convent at
present enjoys. But of the readiness of Syria to receive the
yoke of a foreign power, we had ample evidence during our
stay in the country. Our conversation terminated, he dismissed
us very graciously, and ordered two beds to be made up for the
Christia.n master and the Moslem servant — a stretch of polite
attention, which we had never hitherto experienced.
The convent at Nazareth is an extensive and irregular edifice,
surrounded by a strong wall, affording ample security against any
sudden attack. Within its confines is the church, over what
0

194 BEAUTIFUL SCENERY.
tradition has selected as the house of Joseph and Mary, in which
the youth of our Saviour was passed ; a tradition which, if there
is nothing to establish, there is at least on the other hand as Uttle
to disprove.
This building is far less extensive than the Chm-ch of the
Nativity at Bethlehem, but it is decorated in the same way, and
furnished with an organ, the touching notes of which arose
sweetly for vespers as we looked in upon the edifice, and dis
posed the mind to a train of feeUng, in harmony with the
sacred associations of the place.
From the window of the massive stone structure, which serves
as a receptacle for the pilgrim and the ti-aveUer, I looked out
upon the little vaUey in search of some spot where I might retire,
and wear away the remaining hour or two of a very exciting day,
in tranquil repose among its shades ; a group of massive carob-
trees, jiist lifted above its green level, about half-a-mile from the
village, sfruck me as the very retirement I "wished, and in a short
time I was stretched beneath their ample branches.
The quiet beauty of the scene was remarkable ; it was such as
the Italian painters would have selected, in the midst of which to
place their groups of the Madonna and infant Jesus. It is rarely
the case that a locality satisfies the imagination, but in this
instance there was nothing wanting. The spreading te-ees above
bent over towards the valley, almost touching the gi-ound, and
seeming as a frame to confine the picture. The little valley lay
below, encircled by hills of moderate height, alternately green
and rocky, beneath which, half hidden, the white buildings of
Nazareth appear to nestle for shelter ; on the left, the hills di-op
quietly to the valley, beautifully broken by groups of trees and
rocky fragments.
The sun was setting, and camels and asses laden -with grain
came down from all sides into the level valley, where the rich
produce of the soil was deposited. The animals, reUeved of their
loads, were enjoying their provender; the peasants, reposing after

TRADITIONAL LOCALITIES. 195
their labom-s, among the heaps of corn, with their fragrant pipes,
were quietly enjoying the coolness of the evening ; and beautifully
shone out the whole pictm-e as the numerous flocks slowly de
scended from the hills, preceded by their owners on horseback, in
theft bright-coloured costume, and with their glistening arms slung
across theft- shoulders. Such, no doubt, was the landscape in the
days of Joseph, and such in all respects the scene might then
have appeared, had the peasants been of the same race with those
who then dwelt upon the soil. But there is no Jewish popula
tion now in the valley, which is inhabited chiefly by a race of
Arab blood, or rather Syrian and Arab intermingled. They
are sfr-ong, well made, and fearless, clothed principally in gar
ments of sheepskin ; bearing in their leather girdles a brace of
pistols and a pipe ; their heads invested in a picturesque hernous
or handkerchief, woven with lines of gold and vermilion, its ample
folds being considered the best protection against the summer
heat, and their feet shod with sandals tied by leather thongs —
a costume exceedingly broad, noble, and picturesque ; probably,
fi-om its simphcity and adaptation to the climate, of very early
origin ; and differing but little from that worn in the time of the
patriarchs. The monkish fraditional localities atNazareth are all so obviously
and peculiarly improbable, that they may be very speedily dis
missed ; indeed, I cannot say that I took the trouble of visiting
them. In such a place one would rather seek to bring one's
feelings into a suitable frame of seriousness, by gazing upon
those same unchanged natural features amidst which the Sa"viour
of the world grew up, than to have them disgusted or wounded
by the palpable inventions of a set of interested and supersti
tious monks. Every one has heard of the holy house of the
Virgin, which, to escape the contamination of Saracen handling,
was, after resting once or twice by the way in Dalmatia and else
where, by angeUc ministry miraculously transported hence to
Loretto. As this aerial voyage rests upon testimony equally
o2

196 WELL OF THE VIRGIN.
conclusive with that of the great bulk of mediseval miracles, it
would be, as some might think, at once useless and impious to
controvert it, especially as, in order to refute any profane objec
tions, the very spot whence it was carried away is still to be
seen under the roof of the CathoUc chm-ch, the kitchen being left
behind as a memorial of the fact, and also, perhaps, as an un
necessary incumbrance. In like manner the workshop of Joseph
the carpenter, with the table at which he ate, is to be seen in
the town, duly enshrined within a little chapel. These legendary
sites are the monopoly of the Latins ; but these monks, and
those of the Greek Church, each contend for the true locaUty
of the Annunciation, the former placing it in their convent, the
latter in their church, near to the Fountain of the Virgin.
If any of the present traditional sites of the life of Jesus and
his parents are worthy of credit, we should be disposed to select
the Well of the Virgin. It is at a short distance from the "vil
lage, much frequented by women, bearing their water-jars in the
picturesque and graceful fashion of the counfry. The spot is
very pretty ; a small white fountain stands just under the hill
behind 'Nazareth, and is supplied "with water from a spring under
the Greek church of the Annunciation, a low building in the
background. It would appear that here formerly existed a sub
terraneous church or chapel enclosing the spring. The path of
approach to the open space before the fountain is bordered by
hedges of prickly pear; groups of women are continually passing, !
while an incessant chorus of female voices rises loud at the 1
fountain itself; and trains of laden camels or passing fr-avellers !
give additional animation to the scene. It was not without con- |
siderable difficulty that we could get any of the women to stand i
a few moments for their portraits ; the eloquence of my Tm-kish
servant — and, to do him justice, he possessed amazing readi
ness and volubility — being- scarcely sufficient for the pm-pose,
although in full play the whole time. They are generally tall,
and many possess no common beauty of face and person ;

KEFR KENNA. 197
while, the figure being unfettered by certain western conteivances,
their habit of carrying the jars,™ of course in a perfectly erect
position, gives an exquisite freedom and grace to their move
ments. Their costume is exceedingly elegant, plying to their
lithe and undulating movements with a perfection that a Parisian
modiste would be puzzled to attain.
Nothing is more probable than that this spring should have
been frequented from the earliest period ; and we may reasonably
pictm-e the mother of Jesus coming with her child, like the rest
of the women of Nazareth, to fetch water from the fountain. The
cliff which rises steeply behind the village, too, appears stamped
"with every token of identity, as one of the places referred to
in the few notices of Nazareth occmring in the New Testament,
and as being the hill to the brow of which the enraged inha
bitants led Jesus, and whence they would have cast him down,
but that he, passing through the midst of them, went his way.
The evening was spent at the house of Abu Nazir, a wealthy
Greek Christian, weU known to the American missionaries, and
who, as it was said the country was disturbed, and robbers were
abroad, ad"vised us to take an escort to Tiberias.
We set forth fr-om his house next morning in unusual state,
accompanied by his two sons and a brace of other followers, aU
of them armed to the teeth.
The road through the undulating and rocky hiUs of Galilee
was pretty ; the viUage of Reineh appeared amidst its groves of
olive, and soon after we reached Kefr- Kenna, anciently reputed
to be the Cana of GaUIee, where our Saviour changed the water
into wine ; but its pretensions, like those of so many other old
and orthodox sites, have been of late rudely disturbed by the
scrutinising criticism of Robinson in favour of another site, some
what to the northward, called Cana-el-Jelil. Soon after lea-ving
this village, we ascended a mountain's side, and having crossed
it, obtained a very striking view of Mount Tabor, covered with
wood, rising in isolated beauty, from amidst a region of oak

198

MOUNT TABOR.

forests, resembling, except that they are wilder, the plantations
of an English park.
This was quite a new phase of scenei-y; the greater part of
Palestine being remarkably bare of wood. In less than an hour
we were at its base, and sending a messenger forward to Deburieh
to bespeak our quarters for the night, we urged our horses up
the grassy side of the mountain, between the scattered oak-trees.
In about half-an-hour more we dismounted at the summit, which

MOUNT TABOR.

occupies a more extensive area than would be supposed at a dis
tance, and bears traces of considerable erections, but is entirely
abandoned, at the present day, to the "wild boars and other animals
that lurk among its thickets. The most sfriking of these
remains is a gateway of Saracenic arcliitectm-e, forming the
entrance of an extensive ruined edifice, and from its lofty position
well denominated the " Tower of the Winds."
The view from hence on all sides is magnificent, but the most
striking feature of the scene is undoubtedly the great plain of

TOWER OF THE "WINDS.

199

Esdraelon and its branches, which come up to the very foot of
the mountain. Just under us was the little village of Deburieh,
whither we wended our way down shady thickets of oaks, and
established oiu- bivouac at nightfall upon the roof of a house,
amidst heaps of corn just gathered in from the surrounding plain.
We left Debm-ieh at day-break — winding through the oak
glades which form so beautiful a cinctm-e to the solitary cone of
Tabor ; the long waving grass which fills up the intervals of the
scattered forest-trees was liea-vy with dew, and their branches
sometimes nearly met over our heads. Though these are gene-

TOWER OP THE -WINDS.

rally inferior in size to the oaks of om- own island, they were yet
of sufficient growth to be highly picturesque. As we passed in
silence among them, we discemed on the bare topmost boughs of
one of the largest, a group of eagles ; the guns of my company
were raised in a moment, but I would not suffer them to distm-b
these solitary tenants of the forest ; they were startled, however,
by the noise of our passage, and, spreading their broad wings,
mounted slowly and majestically towards the upper region of the

200 BEDOUIN ENCAMPMENT.
mountain. Not long after, we came unexpectedly upon an open
grassy area, on the left of the path, surrounded by higher slopes,
dotted with groups of trees, and presenting "with singular exact
ness the appearance of an undulating English park, in the midst
of which were spread out the black tents of an encampment of
Bedouins. I was so struck with the picturesque beauty of this
sudden apparition, that without a word I struck off the path, and
made straight for their camp ; when, turning my head, I perceived
my servant, Mukarey, and the brace of escorts I had picked up
at Nazareth, following after me with ill-disguised uneasiness.
The taste of Forest Gilpin or Uvedale Price could uot have
suggested a happier or more picturesque position than these
Arabs had chosen for their temporary resting-place. The tents
of the chief and his family were pitched upon a grassy ridge,
gently elevated above the rest, and sheltered by some dense and
wide-spreading oaks. The tents were composed of a sti-ong coarse
stuff, like sacking, woven in a broad mass of hlaclc relieved by
a white line ; and in general appearance there is little doubt they
corresponded with those of the earliest times. Such might have
been the tent of Abraham beneath the terebinth-teee. And the
figures who gathered around us were teuly patriarchal in aspect ;
an old man, whose venerable face, with long white beard, was of
calm and benevolent expression, clothed in the broad and simple
folds of his striped robe, and resting, Uke Jacob, on the top of
his staff, surveyed us with quiet curiosity. Several others, dark
in hue almost to blackness, were couched upon the ground, and
regarded us time after time from beneath the shade of their
brilliant head-dresses of striped and gilt handkerchiefs, with a
less pleasing expression. They might well have personified the
turbulent sons of the Patriarch. We Uked not the unquiet and
sinister roving of their keen black eyes. In the meantime my
servant and escort were by no means at their ease ; and, in reply
to the numerous inquiries of the Arabs, gave them to imderstand
that I was a Consulo Inglese, about to join the Pasha of Acre at

ROVING TRIBES. 201
his neighbouring encampment. This impro-vised fiction, borne
out by the unusual state in which I happened to be travelling,
repressed any disposition to take advantage of us. They rose
and crowded roimd my sketch, laughing "with childish delight as
I te-ansferred rapidly to my paper some traits of their primitive
appearance. Their women, peeping from the tents, displayed
harsh and bold faces, -with the wild black eye and cunning
expression of the gipsy; they were clothed in loose dresses of
blue serge, gathered round the waist, and their attitudes would
have formed a study for the sculptor. Flocks of sheep and
goats were grouped around, and horses picketed by the tent sides.
All this in the heart of the forest, with the towering and woody
crest of Tabor above, constituted a scene of unusual interest and
beauty. The impatience of my companions hurried me away; they
retreated slowly and "without any appearance of alarm, but no
sooner were we out of sight of the Arabs than they quickened
their paces to a gallop, assm-ing me that this was the very worst
of those half-shepherd, half-robber tribes belonging- to the wild
mountains beyond the Jordan, who rove with their flocks about
the luxmiant pasturages of this district, and who would certainly
have laid us under contribution but for the near presence of the
pasha and his troops.
I was glad, not-withstanding, to have had an opportunity of
witnessing a scene which brought to my mind the exquisite
lines of Thomson, in which, with such singular felicity,
"  depicted was the patriarchal age.
What time Dan Abraham left the Chaldee land.
And pastured on from verdant stage to stage.
Where field and fountains fresh could best engage.
Toil was not then. Of nothing took they heed;
But "with -wild beasts the sylvan war to wage.
And o'er vast plains their herds and flocks to feed."
Apart from theft predatory propensities, which, however, were
those of their contemporary tribes, such must have been indeed

202 ARAB SHEIKS.
the pastoral life, wandering habits, and very appearance of the
names most venerated in Jewish history. In the character of these
tribes themselves there is often a marked difference, notwith
standing- their common descent; some being, from local or acci
dental circumstances, much less rapacious and treacherous than
others ; but, in general, their presence west of the Jordan adds to
the insecurity of the quiet cultivator of the soil — who, at present
placed between two evils, equally dreads the exactions of the sul
tan's agents, and the lawless and unchecked depredation of these
roving plmiderers. Thus the land mourns and languishes, and its
finest portions are often left to the "wild luxuriance of nature.
Shortly after this little episode we emerged from the oak
forests, and saw before us two ancient castles, built in the middle
ages, to command the high road to Damascus. It was here
the pasha was encamped, in order to receive some dues; and
tliere was a numerous gathering of the Arab sheiks of the
neighboming tribes. A more pictm-esque assemblage one would
not desire to see. The greater part of these chieftains were of
lofty stature, thin and sinewy in frame, clothed in long flo"wing
robes, and their dusky bearded countenances surmounted by ample
turbans. They were armed with swords slmig from their sides,
and huge pistols stuck in their girdles ; some of them bearing
their long standard-like lances, although the greater number
had planted them in the ground, as rallying places for their
followers. Their steeds were of the true Arab blood, fleet as
the wind, slender and graceful in form, and handsomely and
tastefully caparisoned. The movements and bearing of these
sheiks had the ease and nobility resulting fi-om unfr-ammelled
action and simple unchanging habits, the absence of all conven
tionalism ; they looked, in short, like men; and the only di-aAvback
to their superb appearance was a certain sinister glancing of the
keen black eye, like that of om- nomad fiiends of the forest,
which seemed to indicate that thieving was regarded among
them as an ancient and respectable vocation.

LAKE OF TIBERIAS. 203
Satisfied with enjoying the picturesque covj) d'oeil of the
scattered groups, the castles, and the wooded cone of Mount
Tabor, without stopping to pay our respects to the pasha, who
seemed to have work enough on his hands, we resumed our
com-se towards the Sea of Galilee. A high level plain extended
around us, covered with crops of grain, and on the left arose the
conical tops of a range of hills — the too celebrated " Homs of
Hattin," the scene of that terrible discomfiture of the Chris
tian hosts by Saladin, which led to the final evacuation of Pales
tine. Shortly after passing this blood-stained spot, we came
to the brink of a vast hollow, and the Lake of Tiberias lay
slumbering far beneath oui- feet.
The sun was nearly at the zenith, and diflrused a flood of
dazzling Ught upon the waters, just ruffled by a passing breeze,
on which we beheld a solitary bark, a mere speck, slowly making
its way towards Tiberias. That city, with its huge castle and
turreted walls, a pile of melancholy ruins, lay scattered along
the nearer shore. The lake, about ten miles long, and five or
six broad, was embosomed in mountains ; or, to describe it more
correctly, was like a great caldron sunk in the lofty table-land,
which broke down to its edge in steep cliffs and abrupt ravines.
At one end we could see where the Jordan flowed into it, and
beyond, the lofty peak of Mount Hermon covered with eternal
snow. There was no wood on the hills, no villages on the shore,
no boats upon the waters, no sound in any direction. If there
was beauty, it was that of the intense blue sky of Palestine,
reflected iu the blue expanse of waters, and overcanopying a
landscape of serene, but corpse-like placidity, like a countenance
fixed in death, but upon which there yet lingers something of
a parting smile.
On approaching the city, there was no occasion to seek for any
regular entrance, for the walls, rent open by the earthquake, and
nodding to their final fall, afforded so many breaches, that our
only embarrassment was, which of them to choose. We made

204 TIBERIAS.
for the nearest, and urging our horses over a pile of fallen stone
work, were at once within Tiberias; a labyrinth of ruin was
before us, whole streets were shaken to the earth, blocking up the
passage ; while a few houses, tottering perilously over the head of
the passenger, seemed melancholy and folorn as the last relics of
a family who have sur"vived when the rest of their kindred have
been swept away by the plague. Among these, some of the poorer
inhabitants, returned to the venerated spot, were taking up their
"wretched temporary habitation; while some of their richer
brethren had already built up again their faUen dweUings.
Directed by our Nazareth friends, we picked our way through
the confusion to one of these newly built houses, occupied by one
of the better class of Jews. We had lighted upon him at a very
interesting moment, his young second wife being engaged in
celebrating the birth of her firstborn child, sm-rounded by a whole
conclave of Jewish women, who kept up an incessant chattering.
This worthy Israelite had been among the sufferers by the earth
quake ; his fftst wife and child having been crushed to death ;
and " what was worse," as a friend assured me he told him, " he
had lost amidst the ruins a bag of several hundred dollars, which
he had never succeeded in recovering ;" and it must be admitted
that there was so far reason in his estimate, that it had e-vidently
been found by him much easier to replace the former article
than the latter.
As soon as we had deposited our baggage in the house, and
taken some slight refreshment, I made my way through the ruined
streets to the borders of the lake, with the intention of taking, if
possible, a short sail in the one solitary boat — for there was but
that one — which had already attracted our observation. I found
it by a point of land at the foot of one of the ruined towers which
overhung the water. Nothing could speak more eloquently of
the decline of the country than the whole picture.
On a lake abounding Avith fish, and which in the time of our
Saviour was crowded with Roman galleys and boats, was now

-^
i-:^

V -h

THE HOT BATHS. 205
none but this most miserable craft, composed of planks rudely
nailed together, the mast and tackle of the most primitive
description, and looking so unsafe, as if
"  the very rats
Instinctively had quit it."
Its two or three sailors were Jews, the first and only ones we
ever met with of that craft ; moreover, they were fishermen, and
in their garb and mien might have been no inapt representatives
of the Apostles themselves. They were engaged, in mending
their nets, in order to " go a fishing," as soon as the evening
breeze should spring up ; and the offer of a small sum easily in
duced their compliance with my request to row me out as far as
the Hot Baths and back again.
I leaped into the boat, the Jewish boatmen took up their
clumsy oars, and lazily pushed off from the shore. There was
not a breath of air stirring, the tattered sail hung idly by the
yard, there was neither shade nor shelter, and the heat was
almost overpowering. Notwithstanding, I could not but feel a sin
gular charm at finding myself gliding along the waters of a lake
the most sacred upon earth, the only one upon which the Redeemer
had ever sailed — which he was in the constant habit of crossing —
from which, seated on the deck of a boat, he was wont to dis
course to the listening' crowds upon the beach — whose waters,
upborne by his power, he had frodden, and to which, in their
-wildest fury, he had exclaimed, with instantaneous effect, " Peace,
be still ! " As we receded from the shore, the ruinous walls of
Tiberias, surmounted by its castle, stood boldly out, and the
whole cftcle of surrounding mountains, terminated by the snowy
summit of Moimt Hermon, were reflected in its transparent basin.
But all so still, so solitary, and so forsaken !
We reached the baths in about half-an-hour. They stand
near the shore, at some distance from Tiberias, and have been
famous from the most ancient times to our own day ; Ibrahim

206 A STORM ON THE LAKE.
Pasha having but recently built a new bath-room over one of the
hot springs. The whole neighbourhood was in a reek with the
hot steam, and we were glad, after a short stay, to escape to om-
boat, and return to Tiberias for our dinner. Achmet had been
diligently at work, and had been successful in procuring for us,
among other things, some fish from the lake, which, on more
grounds than one, was eaten with unusal relish.
After sunset I strolled do"WTi to the lake, and seating myself upon
a mass of broken wall, enjoyed the freshness of the evening.
The mountains were like a dark purple frame around the expanse
of water, which reflected the hues of the twilight sky. There
was a solemnity in the scene which was wanting under the garish
light of noon. All day there had not been a breath of aft-, the
sultry heat had been that of a fm-nace ; but now, a cool breeze
ca-me off the lofty table-land, and rushing do"wn the ra"vines that
descend to the lake, began to ruffle its placid bosom, and toss
up its surface into mimic waves, that broke "with a gentle music
upon the fallen fragments at my feet. As it grew darker, the
breeze increased to a gale, the lake became a sheet of foam, and
the white-headed breakers dashed proudly on the ragged beach ;
its gentle murmur was now changed into the "wild and mournful
sound of the whistling wind and the agitated waters. Afar off
was dimly seen the little barque struggling "with the waves, and
then lost sight of amidst the misty rack. It was long before
I could tear myself from the spot. To have thus seen so sfr-iking
an exemplification of the Scriptme narrative, was as interesting
as it was unexpected. It was even thus that the storm came
down upon the lake, which threatened to engulf the terrified
Aposties, and caUed forth so sublime a manifestation of the
Di"vine power.
Tiberias ranks with Jerusalem, Hebron, and Safet, the
most holy places of the Jews, whither they resort in preference
to any other part of Palestine. Yet it would appear that it is
not of very ancient foundation — deriving its origin, as Robinson

DEPARTURE FROM TIBERIAS. 207
tells US, from Herod Antipas, who gave it this name, in honour of
his patron, the Emperor Tiberius. Owing to the voluntary
surrender of the city, the fiigitive Jews were permitted to resort
to it after the desfr-uction of Jerusalem. Here the Sanhedrim
was re-established, and, under the conduct of the most learned
rabbins, a school gradually formed, whence emanated the famous
Mishnah, embodying- the great mass of Jewish traditional law.
To this was added the Gemara, a supplement to the Mishnah,
and also the Masora, intended to preserve the purity of the
Hebrew text. This celebrated school has gradually sunk into
decline ; but the people still linger about the place, generally in
a state of extreme poverty, and supported by the alms of their
more fortunate European brethren. They appeared a listless,
miserable set, but the women possessed much personal beauty,
and were far neater in their attire than the other sex.
We left Tiberias at an early hour in the morning, and directed
our steps along the border of the lake, which is overhung with
mountains sloping to the water, the road being sometimes raised
high above the lake, and sometimes descending to its margin.
The features of the scenery were eminently suggestive of Scrip
ture incidents ; and it was easy to figure the barque which
conveyed Jesus and his disciples, moored to the shore, while the
sfrand and the hills rising behind were crowded with eager
listeners. In about an hour we reached the north-east angle of
the lake, and paused to take a parting draught at a spot where
a Uttle grassy promontory, adorned with tufts of crimson-flowered
oleanders and quivering reeds, projected into its waters. At this
part of the shore the mountains somewhat recede, and leave a
little oval plain, supposed to be " the land of Gennesaret," covered
with vigorous and neglected vegetation. At its entrance is the
smaU "village of El Mejdel, the identical Magdala of the New
Testament. Some distance to the right of this, on the northern
edge of the lake, is Khan Minyeh, where are ruins, supposed by
Robinson and others to be the ancient Capernaum, which stood

208 SAFET.
undoubtedly on this side of the lake ; but, " exalted once to
heaven, is now cast down into hell," so that its very site is
become obscure and uncertain.
Diverging fi-om the shore, our road to Safet ran directly north,
up the rugged valley of Er Rubadiyeh, its enclosing cliffs split
into tremendous perpendicular crags. One of these, standing
out from the rest, seemed perforated by caverns, forming a sort
of natural stronghold. Some of the tall piles of rock, standing
out by themselves, like rude columns, present a most extra
ordinary appearance. The road, constantly ascending, at length
reaches the level of the high lands above the lake, and the castle
of Safet was seen before us, rising above the small -village of
white houses, embowered in gardens and orchards. Achmet,
who had been here before, rode directly to the house of one of
the Jewish, rabbis, at which we met with a most hospitable
reception during our short stay.
After the repose and refreshment rendered needful by the long,
fatiguing clamber from the lake, we issued forth to survey the
town. Our lungs seemed to expand with delight at inhaling the
pure, bracing aft, so welcome after the furnace-like temperature
of the basin of Tiberias. The situation of Safet is really
glorious — by far the most romantic and commanding in Palestine.
From its towering position, and the fact that it is seen at a great
distance all round the country, it has been regarded as that
" city set on a hill, and which cannot be hid," alluded to, and
probably pointed at, by our Saviour, in his " sermon oil the
mount;" nor, even supposing as scholars affirm that Safet
cannot be identified with any ancient city of note, does this
appear to be, in itself, improbable, as its site seems too eligible
not to have been occupied by some city or town, although it
might not otherwise have been distinguished.
The "new from the heights around Safet is the grandest in all
Palestine; and, if it does not actually stretch from Dan to
Beersheba, extends over a tract but Uttle less extensive. Far to

1l

EXTENSIVE VIEW. 209
the north is seen the range of Lebanon and its snowy peaks, the
plain of Ccele-Syria, and the Anti-Lebanon ; then comes the
utmost limit of Palestine, the immense mass of the snow-covered
Hermon, with the castle of Paneas at its base, and thc whole
valley of the Jordan, from its source down to the Laler-el-Hulch ,
or Waters of Merom, and through which it is seen flowing-
onward into the Sea of Tiberias. The southward, or that portion
of the seene represented in the annexed engraving, comprises
the basin of the lake, sunk among its barrier of mountains,
with the city of Tiberias jutting- into its waters. Above its
western border extends the wide expanse of the Trachonitis ; to
the east, the ridge of Hattin, the isolated cone of Tabor, the
wa-vy hills of Nazareth, and the level plain of Esdraelon, far as
the purple mountains of Gilboa and more distant Samaria. The
point where the Jordan flows out from the lake, may be the
site of Tarichsea, and thence the desert valley of the sacred river
may be fraced almost to its embouchure in the Dead Sea. In
short, it may fairly be said, that one-half of the sacred localities
of Scriptiire come into view at once. Above all, here was the
scene of by far the greater part of our Sa-nom-'s wanderings and
teachings. Behind that screen of hills his youth was passed ; on
the shores of that lake he called his disciples ; across its waters
he was repeatedly passing ; in the synagogues of its to"WTis he
preached to the people ; on its mountain sides he delivered his
discom-ses ; its scenery served him for familiar objects wherewith to
enforce his teaching ; even its desert places, to the distant frontier
of Syria, afforded him a refuge from persecution, and a solitude
for prayer. The whole panorama is one "vivid and enduring-
memento of his earthly life, who " spake as never man spake."
Conspicuous in the foreground of the "view is the Gothic castle
of Safet, as it appeared after the te-emendous earthquake of
1837. This steonghold, to compress the interesting account
given of it by Robinson, was one of the fortresses built by the
Christians to protect the northern frontiers of Palestine against
p

210 SAFET.
the incursions of the Saracens. It was given into the custody
of the Knights Templars, and remained in their hands until
besieged by Saladin in person, after the fatal battle of Hattin,
which broke for ever the Christian power in that country.
It was then so sfr-ong, that although the Sultan pressed the siege
himself by night and day, it cost him five weeks to reduce it.
Safet now continued half a century in the hands of the
Moslems, who in A. D. 1220 caused the fortress to be dismantled.
Twenty years after, it was ceded again by teeaty to the
Christians, and through the energetic assistance of Benedict,
Bishop of Marseilles, was rebuilt by the Templars so as to be
considered impregnable. But the tenure of their power was very
brief, for in 1266 the place was attacked by the impetuous and
ferocious Bibars, Sultan of Egypt, and the Christian garrison, to
the number of two thousand men, obliged to capitulate, were put
to death, -with every circumstance of ateocious cruelty. Bibars
now repaired and strengthened the place, establishing a Moslem
colony around it, and Safet was regarded as the bulwark of all
Syria. Since this time it has gradually fallen into decay, and is
now a mere ruin, an eloquent memorial of the crusading ages.
Crouching around the massive relics of this memorable forteess
are seen the white houses of the town, which, o-wing to the
steepness of the ground, are in some places built one above
another, so that the roofs of those below serve as the roadway to
those above. It is divided into three distinct quarters, one of
them inhabited by the Jews, who regard this as one of their
holiest places in Palestine, and had here formerly a celebrated
school of rabbinical learning ; although it does not appear that
their location in it is of very ancient date. The fifteenth centeu-y
seems to have been the period of its highest prosperity, since
which time it has gradually decUned, although the Jews stUl,
even in their present condition of poverty and dependence, haunt
the spot in considerable numbers.
Safet had been already desolated by an earthquake in 1759,

DESTRUCTION BY AN EARTHQUAKE. 211
when, on the 1st of January, 1837, it was a second time over
whelmed by a similar terrific convulsion. Vast yawning fissures
opened in the hill-side, the greater part of the castle was shaken
do"WTi, and the entire tO"wn was overthro"wn. Owing to the terrace
like manner in which the houses were built, those above were
thrown upon those below, and so frightful was the destruction
of Ufe, that of six thousand people, five thousand perished ; four-
fifths of the imhappy sufferers being- Jews. Some were killed at
once, others lingered in horrible suffering among the ruins, till
theft proti-acted agonies were terminated by mortification.
The scene as described by eye--witnesses was dreadful beyond
description. Yet here, as at Tiberias, the Jews were beginning
to rebuild their fallen houses over the spot where their unhappy
relatives had perished, and it seemed as if, oblivious of this
fearful catasteophe, the place would ere long assume its wonted
appearance. At Safet we were delayed an entfte day before we could pro
ceed. Pro-vided "with a strong firman from the Egyptian govern
ment, enjoining the local authorities to frirnish us with horses
and procure us lodgings, it was still no easy matter to get
forward. Such requisitions are still as odious as they were in
the days when our Saviour made allusion to them. At that
time, as Mr. Sharpe informs us, " every Roman officer, from the
general do"WTi to the lowest fribune, claimed the right of travel
Ung through the counfr-y free of expense, and seizing the carts
and cattle of the "villagers to carry him forward to the next
to"wn, under the pretence of being a courier on the public ser"vice.
The temper of the peasants was sorely tried by this tyranny ;
and difficult would they have found it to obey the command,
' Whosoever shall compel thee to go one mile, go with him
twain.' " At length, "with considerable difficulty, fresh horses
were obtained, and we pursued our journey.
At an early hour these were waiting- outside the house of the
rabbi, of whom, and his interesting wife, we took leave with
p2

212 JOTAPATA.
many thanks for the evident sincerity of our welcome. For this
we were a good deal indebted to the humanity of the American
missionaries, who have left in the minds of the Jewish population
a deep feeling of gi-atitude for the kindness e-vinced towards them,
after the great earthquake, and have consequently disposed them
to look favourably upon fravellers of the same race and religion.
This is the truest way to break down ancient prejudices, and
to pave the way for the reception of a reUgion, which inculcates
universal charity. A case has just appeared in the papers, of a
person who refused to let his house to one of the Je-wish persua
sion; let that individual, should this happen to meet his eye,
know how kindly the fraveller was received into the house of a
Jew, and profit, if he can, by the lesson.
Our road lay directly through the heart of Galilee, do"wn to
St. John of Acre. Our horses slipped and scrambled to the
bottom of the tremendous hiU upon which Safet is situated, and
then began to clamber the opposite accli"vity, till after about an
hour's riding we seemed as if we could throw a stone across the
valley into the to"wn. We took a last refr-ospective "view of the
Lake of Tiberias, and descended into the Galilean vales, which,
as in the time of Josephus, stiU teem with populous -viUages, and
appear to be cultivated and fi-uitful. The whole of this region,
extending to the borders of Phoenicia, was no doubt teaversed by
Jesus during his numerous jom-neys through GaUIee. This part
of Palestine was the remotest from the capital, and its inhabitants
were considered rade and turbulent. Here took place the first
act of the drama, or rather tragedy, which ended in the final de
straction of Jerusalem. It was at Jotapata, somewhere in this
region, that Josephus, after bravely defending the town against
the Emperor Vespasian, was taken prisoner, and from henceforth
attached himself to the Roman cause, periiaps, as feeUng that of
his country to be a hopeless one. It is singular that while so
many ancient sites have of late been discovered, that of the
romantic Jotapata should still elude research.

RETURN TO BEYROUT. 213
The sun was nearly setting in the sea, behind the walls of
Acre, as we reached its level plain, and by urging our horses
rapidly forward, we succeeded in entering the gates before they
were closed for the night. The convent had no charms ; the
place had been aft-eady explored ; the night was fine, and a light
southerly breeze just crisped the azure surface of the Mediter
ranean; a single word to Achmet induced him to hurry down
to the port, where he found a coasting vessel ready to sail for
Beyrout, and only waiting, as it were, to take us on board. To
him the word " Beyrout " was synonymous with " home :" there
stood his neat Uttle house among the mulberry gardens, and in
that house, his pretty little "wife was awaiting his return; no
wonder, then, that he displayed an unusual alertness. As we
jumped into a boat which was to convey us on board the vessel,
a Turkish soldier, the first time such a thing had happened to us
in the East, muttered something about " Passaporta," but we
contented ourselves with replying to him by a look of ineffable
contempt. In five minutes more we were outside the reef of
Acre, and the foUo"wing afternoon, after a delightful sail, cast
anchor abreast of the hospitable comptoir of Mr. Heald.

CHAPTER VI.
VOYAGE AND SHIPWfiEOE OP ST. PAUL — EMBABKATION AT C^SASEA — COUBSB
TO MALTA — SYRACUSE — BEGGIO — PUTEOLI — KOME.
In this concluding chapter, dedicated to the voyage and ship
wreck of St. Paul, it "will be necessary to depart from the plan
hitherto pursued, gi"nng instead a connected outUne of the whole
voyage, and afterwards filling in the details fr-om personal remi
niscences of the different localities it embraces.
It is unnecessary to recal the circumstances afteady described
of St. Paul's examination at Csesarea before Festus and Agrippa,
and his determination to appeal to Csesar. Hereupon the Apostle
was delivered into the custody of one Julius, a centurion of
Augustus' band, and, accompanied by Aristarchus, Trophimus,
St. Luke, and, as some suppose, by the historian Josephus, put
on board a ship bound for Adramyttium, in Asia Minor. The
wind being faft from the south, they arrived next day at Sidon —
still a city of considerable commerce — where the vessel remained
a short time ; and Paul, who was " courteously entreated by
Julius," received permission to go on shore and refresh himself.
From Sidon, their course, had the wind been favourable, would
have been direct towards the Straits of Cos ; but as it happened
to be contrary, they were compelled to make a circuitous com-se,
and to sail under Cyprus ; that is, to the eastward of it ; and
thus to traverse the sea of Cilicia and PamphyUa, between that
island and the coast of Asia Minor. They next reached Myra, a
city of Lycia, whose magnificent remains testify to the importance

VOYAGE OF ST. PAUL. 215
which it once enjoyed. So far they wore on their course, although
an indirect one, for Italy ; but as the " ship of Adramyttium"
would now pm-sue her voyage to the northward, it became neces
sary to leave her and to embark in another. One of the vessels
then engaged in carrying supplies of corn fi-om Egypt to Rome,
also driven out of her dftect course by contrary winds, was then
in the harboiu-. These ships were of the largest class, carrying
often several hundred people, and commanded, no doubt, by the
most expert mariners to be found in the Mediterranean. From
a representation of one of them on a coin of Augusfris, it would

COIN OF SHIP.

seem that they carried but one large mast, on which was hoisted
the mainsail to propel the ship, while a smaller sail at the bow
sprit assisted in steering her, a peculiarity which should be
remembered in reading the subsequent account.
Owing to the westerly wind generally prevalent in the Medi
terranean, theft ship appears to have worked her way very slowly
as far as Cnidus, where, unable to make a course direct west,
which would have carried her to the northward of Crete, she
was compelled to bear to the southward, and with difficulty
doubling Cape Salmone, the eastern point of that island, came
to an anchor in the roads called the Fair Havens ; supposed to
be a harbour on the southern side of Crete. So much time had
been afteady lost, and the stormy season was now approaching
so near, that Paul strenuously urged the centurion to remain

216 VOYAGE AND SHIPWRECK
where they were for the winter ; a plan overruled by the master
of the ship, on account of the incommodiousness of the harbour.
As there was another haven called Phoenice, at no great dis
tance along the coast, which offered superior advantages, they
waited until there sprung up a gentle south wind, which pro
mised to waft them to their destination in a few hours, and then
set sail, keeping close along the shore. They had not proceeded
far when they were suddenly caught by " a tempestuous wind,
called Euroclydon," blowing off the land directly athwart their
course, and so furious that, being rmable to bear up against
it, they were compelled to let the vessel drive before it to the
south-west, passing under the small island of Clauda, and using
their utmost efforts to secure their boat, which had been hitherto
towed after them. The gale blowing heavily from the north-

CAPE SALMONE.

east, would, had the vessel been suffered to scud on directly
before it, have ine-vitably driven her into the Syrtis, or Great
Gulf, on the coast of Africa, where she would have gone
ashore; they were, therefore, obliged to put the vessel about,
so that she might drift to the northward. Deeply laden, and
encumbered with the huge and hea-vy yard requft-ed for the great
sail, she labom-ed so heavily as to strain open the seams, to
avoid which they " undergirded " the ship; that is, passed a
thick cable round her, threw overboard part of the cargo, and on

OF ST. PAUL. 217
the third day — the tempest continuing- with unabated violence —
to lighten hcr still further, " threw over with their own hands the
tackling of tlie ship," — that is, in all probability, the ponderous
mainyard and its appendages. They had now done all that it was
in the power of good seamanship to do, towards averting the fate
which threatened them ; yet the gale still blew with such fury, and
the sky was so utterly obscured, that they might shortly expect
either that their overlaboured ship would founder, or go ashore
upon some iinkno"WTi coast, especially as, since the vessel was put
about off Clauda, they had continued to drift in the same com-se.
Despair was seizing upon their spirits, when Paul, gently re
proaching them for not listening to his advice, now told them
he had received a miraculous assurance, that although they must
suffer shipwreck, not a hair of their heads should perish.
On the fourteenth night, as they were doubtless on the look
out, the shipmen deemed that they drew near some land ;
detecting perhaps in the breeze the fragrance of gardens on
shore, or faintly discerning at a distance the looming of the
fr-emendous breakers of the coast of Malta. They now sounded,
and finding the depth of water gradually decreasing, they cast
four anchors out of the stem, and, in the emphatic language of
the Apostolic narrative, ""wished for the day." The practice of
anchoring by the stern was usual in ancient seamanship, as Mr.
Smith has proved by a representation of a vessel having holes
for the purpose ; but they were also sometimes, to keep them in
a fixed position, anchored both fore and aft. And thus we find
that, under pretence of throwing out the anchors forward, but in
reality "with a "view to save themselves, the sailors were preparing
to take to the boat ; but on Paul's assuring- them that if they
did so the whole would perish, the soldiers cut off the boat-ropes,
and let her fall into the sea. We may judge by this of the
powerful ascendancy gained over the minds of all on board by
one who had embarked with them as a prisoner. When the day
dawned, Paul besought the fasting- sailors, who during the storm

218 MELITA.
had been prevented from taking their usual allowance — as is
often the case in modern times under similar circumstances — to
recruit their sinking spirits with a hearty meal. He stood up in
the midst, took bread, and giving thanks to God, himself set the
example, which was followed by the two hundred and seventy-
six persons on board, who afterwards awaited the catasfrophe
with cheerful confidence in the Di"nne mercy. As the vessel
was labouring heavily at her anchors, they lightened her by
throwing overboard the remainder of their cargo. The day now
broke, and disclosed a shore unknown to them ; but they per
ceived an opening in the iron-bound coast, and determined to
run the ship into it. They cut their cables, hoisted theft- arte-
mon, or foresail, and with mingled feelings of hope and appre
hension, committed themselves to the Di"vine guidance.
The controversy that has so long been maintained respecting
the identity of that " Melita" upon which the Apostle was
wrecked, would have been easUy settled had the details of his
course been scanned with the eye of a seaman as well as those
of a scholar, when the assumption that it was the "Meleda" of
the Adriatic Sea would have plainly appeared to be utterly
inconsistent with the whole course so incUcated, both before and
subsequent to the shipwreck. This scientific examination of the
subject has recently been made by Mr. Smith of Jordan-hill, to
whose work we are indebted for the brief outUne which "wiU
there be found completely filled up. His researches tend to con
firm in the strongest manner the popular fradition, that the spot
at Malta called " St. Paul's Bay," is really that where the
Apostle was driven ashore.
Having in another work given a particular description of St.
Paul's Bay, as well as of the island of Malta, but a brief notice
of it can properly be given in this place. Suffice it to say,
then, there is every ground for belie-ving that fr-adition — in so
many instances doubtful or obscure — is here in exact conformity
with the requirements of the Sciiptm-e narrative. The bay, on

ST. PAUL'S BAY. 219
the shore of which the ship is believed to have grounded, is
on the south-east side of the island, precisely in the line of her
drift fi-om the western shore of Crete. At its mouth is a bold
rocky island called Salmoon, upon which has lately been erected
a colossal statue of St. Paul. Between one end of this island
and the mainland is a narrow inlet, through which the sea
would force its way fi-om without, thus crossing the main current
setting in through the mouth of the bay. There, it is presumed,
is the spot where the two seas met, and where the vessel, run
ning head foremost upon the mud, stuck fast, while the hinder
part being exposed to the heavy seas, was broken to pieces. The
bay is studded round with objects recalling the tradition. Here

§2®-*:-^-=^=?-

ST. PAUL S BAr.

is the " Fountain of the Apostle," of which he first drank after
going ashore, and a small chapel and fort bearing his name.
About two miles inland is a grotto, where he is said to have
retfted ; while at Citta Vecchia, which in the Apostle's day was
the capital of the island and the residence of the governor, are
further memorials of his abiding there ; and although some of
these sites are probably fanciftil, the main fact of the ship-wreck
may now be considered as fully established. After remaining-

220 SYRACUSE.
three months in the island of Malta, Paul and his companions
departed for Puteoli in a ship of Alexandria which had wintered
in the isle.
The first place where he landed was Syracuse, on the eastern
coast of Sicily, where he remained three days. This city,
founded by a Corinthian colony, had attained a state of great
magnificence. It is memorable in history for its two great sieges,
the first by the Greeks, and the second by the Romans. Dm-ing
a war with the people of Leontini, the latter implored the
assistance of the Athenians, who availing themselves of this pre
text to besiege Syracuse, as the first step towards the conquest of
the whole of Sicily, assembled accordingly a large fleet at
Corcyra (Corfu), and thence repafted to Rhegion (Reggio).
Ha-ving been disappointed of the succours promised by the other
Sicilian cities hostile to Syracuse, the Athenians were compeUed
to undertake the siege of this great city by themselves. The
original seat of the Corinthian colony was the island of Ortygia,
at the mouth of one of the finest harbours in the world. This
island, surrounded by fortifications, was afterwards joined to the
peninsula forming its northern angle, which received the name of
AcracUna, and was defended by a second waU. As the city con
tinued to increase, two subm-bs were thrown out and enclosed
within additional defences. StiU further inland they extended
along a boldly rising ground as far as the Labdalon and
Euryalus, while on the opposite side of the harbour was the fort
of the Olympeion.
The famous siege of Syracuse by the Athenians would, of
itseft, fiU a chapter ; suffice it to say here, that after a long and
desperate struggle, both by land and sea, the great harbour
ha"ring become the scene of several sea-fights, the Athenians
were at length decisively beaten, and compeUed to abandon their
i ships, and attempt escaping by land towards Calonia, but were
overtaken by Gylippus, and forced to sun-ender at discretion.
Syracuse continued to increase in extent and splendour untU it

ARCHIMEDES. 221
Avas besieged by the Romans under Marcellus. The whole of
the high gromid extending to the Labdalon, had by this time
been enclosed with a wall ; the new quarter of Neapolis, also
fortified, had arisen, so that there may be said to have been five
cities now united together. Its different walls are said to have
extended twenty-two miles in length, and to have contained
upwards of a million of inhabitants. Archimedes, the greatest
mechanist of the age, was among the defenders of the city, and
by his steipendous machinery, completely defeated the utmost
efforts of the Romans. Vast beams of wood, with grappling- hooks
at the end, were made to descend upon their vessels, and, raising
them out of the water, to dash them with their crews upon the
shore, or sink them ; while others were set on fire by burning-
glasses. The paralysed besiegers declared that they were fighting
against the gods, and Marcellus was compelled to turn the siege
into a blockade ; nor was it until, taking advantage of a festival
of Diana, when the people incautiously gave themselves up to
revelry, that he succeeded in making himself master of the
Epipolse. The island still held out, and it was only by the
freachery of the mercenary troops, that the city was at length
compelled to surrender, and was reluctantly given up to pillage
by the Roman general.
During the attack, Archimedes, it is said, was deeply engaged
over a problem, when a soldier broke in, and killed him by mis
take, to the great concern of Marcellus, who had offered a large
reward to any one who would bring him alive into his presence.
The city was then rifled of its innumerable objects of art, which
were bome away to Rome, where they contributed greatly to form
that taste for art which afterwards prevailed among the people.
Notwithstanding this declension from its original splendour,
Syracuse was still a great and magnificent city when St. Paul
and his vessel entered its harbour, and probably conveyed to its
inhabitants the first tidings of Christianity which had ever been
heard in SicUy. Whether he made any converts is not, however.

222 SUPERSTITION OF THE SICILLANS.
recorded. From this period, the city, like the Roman Empire
itself, gradually declined, and after suffering from Arabian inroads
and domestic feuds, has d"windled down to an insignificant
modem town, confined exclusively to that portion originally
settled by its founders, namely, the island of Ortygia.
" At the present moment," says the judicious Mrs. Starke,
" Syracuse is chiefly famed for its excellent hotel II Sole, the
Sun," and those who may think such an announcement too
trivial for notice, would form a different opinion if they knew
the filth and starvation of Sicilian inns in general. It was there
fore with feelings of lively satisfaction that, as we ascended the
ragged ground of Acradina, and saw the ancient island of Ortygia
and the to"wn of Syracuse, surrounded by the strong walls built
by Charles V., we looked forward to somewhat better quarters
than at the wretched hovel of Lentini, in which necessity had
obliged us to take refuge the preceding night. We found
" II Sole " fully bearing out its reputation, a perfect oasis of
comfort in the surrounding desert of misery, and were the more
sm-prised at it, since it is not now on a line of high road, and
the fravellers who visit it are comparatively few and far between.
On sallying forth from this delectable hostelry into the streets
of Syracuse, everything bears an air of decay and misery.
A squalid population vegetate in a state of moral and industrial
torpor, although under a sky of cloudless serenity, and in one of
the most fertile islands of the world. Such is the superstition of
the Sicilians, that even the Neapolitans cry out against them.
One of the latter assured me that instead of contenting them
selves with the wooden effigies of our Saviour commonly made
use of in Italy, they have been known to hire a poor "wi-etch to
submit to be fastened up in the painful attitude of crucifixion, in
order to stimulate more powerfully the feelings of the devout.
Their ferocity is in proportion to theft- superstition. I was
assured by the -nce-consul that, on the appearance of the cholera,
which they ignorantly attributed to some machinations of the

ANCIENT RUINS. 223
Neapolitan authorities, they seized upon the governor, who
was afteady unpopular, and who happened at the time to be
almost unprotected, and after putting- him to death with every
circumstance of cruelty, cut up his mangled body into small
portions, and sold it for dogs' meat in the public streets. Such
is the depth of abasement to which a bad govemment and a
system of superstition have succeeded in degrading humanity,
in the beautiful lands cursed by the sway of the most bigoted
and despotic of the Bourbons.
Little now remains of Syracuse "within the island itself.
Part of a temple is incorporated with the principal church ; the
Fountain of Arethusa, so celebrated by the poets, is now become
a tank for washei-women. Without the walls of Ortygia, how
ever, the traces of former magnificence are sfriking and extensive.
As the distance to be fraversed is considerable, I hired a mule
and a g-uide, and set off after breakfast to make the circuit of the
walls. On our way we examined the extensive quarries which
served as prisons to the defeated Athenians, and where the
greater part perished by disease and hunger. Connected with
these is the celebrated Ear of Dionysius, the tyrant of Syracuse,
a smaU chamber in the rock, up to which every sound in the
prisons was so conveyed by a natural channel, that he is
said to have amused himself -with listening to the conversation of
the prisoners. Not far from this is a splendid and very perfect
amphitheatre ; and still further, the remains of a theatre, whence
a passage, cut in the rock, and lined -with tombs, conducts to the
high ground of the Epipolje. Riding along the ridge, we pur
sued our way until we reached the utmost limit of the fortifications,
and obtained the annexed -view, which will serve far better than
any description to convey a correct idea of the position of the
city and of the immense circuit of its walls, surpassing that of
Rome, Jerusalem, Athens, or Alexandria.
Nothing can exceed the luxuriance and beauty of the wild
plants and shrabs, which spring- up among the ruins, and attest

224 RHEGIUM.
the astonishing richness of the Sicilian soil. Flowers that, at
home, form the cherished ornaments of the garden or the hothouse,
here, among the fallen blocks of Fort Labdalon, flourish in wild
luxuriance. From hence the walls, carried along the edge of the
high ground, are seen extending past what was the Epipolse, as far
as the island, the only part now fortified. Part only of Acradina
appears to the left. The valley of the Anapus below is still as
marshy and unhealthy as when it proved fatal to the Punic froops.
The papyrus flourishes in its waters. Adjacent to the harbour
was Neapolis, the last built and most extensive quarter of the
city. On the rising ground opposite Ortygia the Greeks
encamped, and the great harbour was the scene of their final
discomfitm-e by the Syracusan fleet. It is not, perhaps, generally
known that, in consequence of an order obtained by the influence
of Lady Hamilton from the Queen of Naples, Lord Nelson was
permitted to water his fleet in this harbour, and was thus enabled
to go in quest of the French fleet, which he soon afterwards
surprised and destroyed in the Bay of Aboukft.
After this hasty glance at Syracuse, we proceed to frace the
course of the Apostle to-vj-ards Rome. On lea"ving Syracuse, the
narrative informs us, they " fetched a compass," and came to
Rhegium, just within the entrance of the Straits of ilessina.
In sailing along the 'coast, or, as is probable, even at some
distance out to sea, the lofty cone of Mount Etna, covered Avith
eternal snow, would be the prominent object to arrest attention,
until they reached the rugged mountains of Calabria. Rhegium
was a city of Grecian origin, and had undergone many -vicis
situdes, having been devastated by some of those tremendous
earthquakes which, from the earliest ages to the present day,
have repeatedly overwhelmed the " cities of the strait." When
St. Paul's ship touched there, as we should infer from the narra
tive, in consequence of the wind being contrary, it was just
arising from its ruins, having been made a naval colony by
Augustus.

STRAITS OF MESSINA. 225
Nearly opposite to Reggio, the ancient Rhegium, on the
Sicilian side, is the city of Messina, the heights above which
command a sublime view of the whole length of the strait through
which St. Paul sailed, and of his further course along the Italian
shores. The path from the city to these heights, is bordered
with hedges of aloe and cactus; and, on attaining the aerial
summit, we look down upon a "wilderness of conical-shaped hills,
of volcanic appearance, almost all cultivated to their tops, sinking
gradually to the white buildings of the city, which repose grace
fully along the margin of the strait. The shape of its harbour,
as seen from hence, fully explains the appellation of " the sickle,"
originally bestowed by the Sicilians upon it. Just beyond the
enfrance is the formidable whirlpool of Charybdis, which, with
the opposite rock of Scylla, at the northern exfremity of the
sfrait, formed the proverbial terror of ancient mariners. On the
other side of the sfrait, and near its mouth, Reggio is seen upon
a narrow plain, crouching at the foot of the stupendous mountains
of Calabria, which are deeply indented with gloomy ravines,
and rise into dreary snow-capped peaks ; while the sea, which
the barque of Paul must have fr-aversed on the com-se fi-om
Syracuse, expands to the southward horizon.
On looking do"wm upon this scene, at once awfully magnificent
and serenely beautftul, few would imagine the fearful events that
have occurred "within its confines. The earthquake that deso
lated Reggio has been already alluded to. Another con"vulsion,
of a stiU more te-emendous character, occurred in 1783, by
which great part of Messina was laid in ruins. On the Calabrian
shore, a vast number of people fled to the beach, when the waters
of the straits suddenly arose, and swallowed them up. The
quay of Messina was destroyed, and the ships in the harbour
were engulfed or dashed to pieces.
But let us foUow thc Apostle on his voyage from Reggio.
" After one day," says the narrator in the Acts, " the south wind
blew, aud we came the next day to Puteoli." This would give
Q

226

ISLAND OF CAPRI.

a run of about four-and-twenty hours from the Straits of Messina
to the Bay of Naples; exactly the time in which the -writer
performed the voyage in a sailing vessel.
On issuing from the straits, Scylla appears upon its craggy
precipice, overhanging the waves, and soon after, the " lone
volcanic isle" of Stromboli rises grandly from the sea; whfte the
rugged shores of Calabria continue in sight all the way to Naples.
Here, at the mouth of that unrivalled bay, stands, as it stood
when St. Paul's vessel sailed past it, the bold romantic island of
Capri, like a huge breakwater, to stem the force of the southern

swell. It was at that time, or shortly after, the retreat of the
Emperor Tiberius, who chose this secluded spot in order to
indulge unobserved in a career of hoirible licentiousness.
Vesuvius now comes in sight, and distant Naples, ranging along
the shore its glittering palaces, while the white buildings of Torre
del Greco mark the site of Herculaneum and Pompeii, before
they were destroyed by the tremendous con"vulsion described by
Pliny. But the vessel of St. Paul leaves these objects in the
distance, for, steering across the mouth of the guft, she dft-ects
her course towards the graceful and sheltered Bay of Baias.

PUTEOLI. 227
Passing the bold headland of Misenum, she steers direct for
PuteoU, or Diesearchea, and anchors within thc shelter of the
mole, amidst a crowd of corn-ships, beai-ing supplies from Egypt
for the citizens of Rome. " Here," says St. Luke, " we found
brethren, and were desired to tarry with them seven days."
At the time when St. Paul first landed on the shores of Italy,
Rome had attained the highest degree of power ; her foot was
upon the neck of prosteate kings, and she was gorged "with the
wealth of vanquished empires. Corruption of their early sim
plicity of manners, and luxuriousness of habits, had followed in
the teain of conquest. The ancient religion was despised by
the philosopher and man of the world ; the doctrine of a future
Hfe was teeated as an idle dream ; — in short, practical atheism
was the creed of the more poUte part of the community. Yet
there were, no doubt, many who sighed for something more
consolatory than either the "vulgar superstition of the plebeian, or
the dreary scepticism of the patrician ; and to such Christianity
would not appeal in vain. At what time, or by whom, the
doctrines of the Gospel were first promulgated in Italy, appears
uncertain ; but, at the period of St. Paul's visit, a little band of
disciples had been formed at Puteoli, and by these the Apostle
was received as an angel of God, and pressed to take up his
abode with them for a few days.
The city where he thus sojourned for a week, otherwise caUed
Diesearchea, was the principal station for the corn-fleets from
Egypt, and the usual landing-place of fravellers desft-ous of
repafting to Rome. Its harbour was spacious, being formed by
sinking vast masses of stone, cemented by mortar of a peculiarly
adhesive nature, formed by calcined nodules of limestone and
sand, now caUed Pozzolano, from Pozzuoli, the modem name of
the place, and closely imitated in our " Roman cement." It
possessed a conspicuous lighthouse, and was adorned with the
usual number of temples, the remains of which are still to be
fraced among the mean buildings of the modern town.
q2

228 BAY OF BAM.
But PozzuoU possesses in its quay a relic incomparably
more interesting than these. Let us ascend the heights above
the town, where the graceful round-topped stone pine rises among
masses of " opus reticulatum," and where huge aloes, and citron
and olive-trees entwine theft roots among the obscm-e ruins of
the Roman villas. From the spot where we stand the beautiful
Bay of Baiaa sweeps round in a gentle curve, terminated by the
bold headland of Misenum. On its shore, almost at our feet, is
seen Puteoli, projecting its mass of modern ItaUan houses into
the waves ; and at its extremity appear the "wrecks of that ancient
quay, upon which St. Paul must have landed. This massive
mole was a work of great antiquity, supposed to have been
originally formed by the inhabitants of Cumse, and afterwards
strengthened by the Roman emperors. Its wave-worn fragments
of dark-brown stone, stained "with the green sea-weed, and
encrusted with marine shells, sfretch out some distance into the
sea, and some ofthe rings are yet remaining upon them by which
the vessels were moored. Beyond the pier, the sea expands to
the southward, and the island of Capri rises boldly on the
horizon, on the very track by which St. Paul approached the
port. At the period when he landed, the adjacent Bay of Baias was,
the favourite resort of the more wealthy and tasteful Romans.
Its graceful cui-ving shore, open to the southern breeze, was
surrounded by costly villas, furnished with warm baths and
every appliance of luxury, and was studded -with temples,
exhibiting the utmost perfection of classical elegance and
refinement. The neighbom-hood, too, was full of poefr-y. At
Parthenope, now Naples, Virgil lived, and sung, and was bmied ;
and here he has laid many of the scenes of his ^neid. In short,
this was the most favoured region in all Italy — the especial
delight of the more intellectual as well as luxmious patricians.
How insignificant to them, should they have chanced to hear of it,
would appear the arrival of a poor Jew in bonds, from a distant

^

1

^5^ %>

229
and despised country ; and how little could they have anticipated
the day when the religion he came to teach should fill the land,
and that its stately shrines would stand triumphant, when the sea
should wash over the tesselated relics of their luxurious villas,
and splendid temples !
Lea"ving Puteoli, St. Paul and his companions directed their
steps towards Rome, whence a band of disciples, who had
received the joyful news of his arrival, were hastening to give
him the meeting. Baite and Puteoli communicated with Rome
by a branch road, which entered the Appian Way near Minturnaa.
This famous highway, the Via Appia, called the queen of Roman
roads, was constructed with large stones, so well prepared and
fitted, that they adhered for ages without the aid of cement.
It was well furnished -with inns and post-houses, being the most
fi-equented outlet from the capital. The modern road fi-om Rome
to Naples runs, for the most part, upon its foundations, and
displays, in many places, the most enchanting scenery, especially
at Mola, Fondi, and Terracina ; but upon this our plan forbids
us to dweU in detail. The road had not long been traversed in
the opposite direction, by a very different sort of teaveller — the
poet Horace, who has given the facetious account of his adventures,
so famUiar to classical scholars, and so truthfully presented to
the EngUsh reader by the gentle Co"wper.
In what way the Apostle and his friends may have travelled,
we are left very much to conjecture ; but, across the Pontine
Marshes, between Terracina and Torre Treponti, supposed to
occupy the site of AppU Forum, ran a canal, along which Horace
was conveyed during the night, and of which some vestiges are
still to be fraced. At Appii Foram Paul met the first detachment
of his sympathising friends, and the remainder at Tres Tabernas,
or the Three Taverns, the next station towards Rome, situated
near the modern to-wn of Cistema. The sight of company after
company, thus prepared beforehand to welcome him, must have
been cheering indeed to the Apostle, after his long and arduous

230 ROAD NEAR ROME.
journey ; and, to use the brief but expressive words of the sacred
narrative, " he thanked God, and took courage."
The whole party now proceeded together towards Rome,
crossing the romantic hills of Alicia and Albano, till the wide
expanse of the Campagna opened before them, terminated in the
distance by the glittering buildings of tfte Eternal City. Far
different from what it now is, was then the approach to Rome.
The throng of chariots and horsemen must have pressed eagerly
along the narrow causeway, lined with those splendid sepulchres,
of which the ruins are now scattered over the dreary and deserted
plain, where the solitary herdsman pastures his droves of
buffaloes. But where shaU we find the scene, such as it must
then have been, so vi-vidly porteayed as in the weU-kno"wn lines
of Milton?— " What conflux issuing forth, or entering in, —
Prtetors, proconsuls to their pro"vinces
Hasting, or on return, iu robes of state ;
Lictors and rods, the ensigns of their power ;
Legions and cohorts, turms of horse and wings ;
Or embassies from regions far remote.
In various habits, on the Appian road.
Or on th' Emilian ; some from farthest south,
Syene, and where the shadow both ways falls,
Meroe, Nilotic isle, and more to west.
The realm of Bacchus, to the Blackmoor sea ;
From th' Asian kings and Parthian among these,
From India and the golden Cheronese,
And utmost Indian isle Taprobane,
Dusk faces, with white silken turbans "wreath'd ;
From Gallia, Gades, and the British West,
Germans and Soythian.s, and Sarmatians north
Beyond Danubius to the Tauric pool." Paradise Regained, b. iv.
The modern road from Rome to Naples, diverging from the
Via Appia, enters the city by the Porta S. Giovanni. Paul
and his companions continued, of eom-se, to foUow the Appian
Way, and lea-ving on the right the beautiful round sepulchre of

GATE OF DRUSUS.

231

CeciUa Metella, entered the city through the gate of Drusus,
the remains of which stiU bestride the original causeway.

AnCH OP DRUSUS.

Arrived at the metropohs of the world, Paul appears to have
been, although nominally a prisoner, yet admitted to bail, and
aUowed to Uve for two years in his own hired house. Here he
largely increased the number of the Christian' converts, which it
would seem was afteady so considerable as to have excited the
hostiftty of the Jews ; thus giving rise to dissensions which had
caused both parties to be banished for a while from the city. It
was not long after his arrival that Paul was called upon to appear
before the tribunal of Nero, on which occasion he was deserted by
most of those whom he had expected to stand by him. For the
present, however, he escaped the cruelty of the tyrant. After
his first sojourn at Rome, he set out again on his missionary
fravels, probably going as far as Spain, and revisiting also the
churches in Greece and Asia Minor, generally accompanied by

232 MARTYRDOM OF ST. PAUL.
Luke, and sometimes by other of his friends. " The indefa
tigable activity of this one man," to use the words of Milman,
" had planted Christian colonies, each of which became the
centre of a new moral ci-vilization, from the borders of Syria as
far as Spain, and to the city of Rome."
During this absence of the Apostle occurred that terrible
fire which laid Rome in ashes, and for which the unoffending
Christians were punished by the infliction of the most un
heard-of tortures, being enveloped in wax cloths, and set up
for torches in the public gardens. This circumstance seems to
prove that they could be no longer an obscure insignificant body,
but must have become sufficiently numerous to attract the notice,
and to fix the suspicions of the govemment. Paul at length
went back to Rome, but only to obtain the crown of martyrdom.
His Second Epistle to Timothy, "written shortly after his return,
alludes to his recent joumey into Asia Minor and Greece, and
declares that he "was now ready to be offered, and that the
time of his departure was at hand."
Whether St. Peter was ever at Rome, and after being a fellow-
labourer "with St. Paul, suffered martyrdom about the same time,
is a question warmly disputed to the present day; suffice it to
say, that such appears to have been the general belief of the
early Fathers. According to this belief, St. Peter was crucified
upon the Vatican Mount, at the spot whereon Constantine after
wards erected that chapel, which became the nucleus of the most
magnificent church in the world. Whatever may be the
genuineness of this tradition, there can be little or no doubt that
St. Paul, after being some time confined in prison, was led out
to execution at the Aquse Salvias, three miles fi-om the city,
where, as crucifixion was too infamous for a Roman citizen, he
was put to death by beheading, and afterwards buried in the
Via Ostiensis. The church raised over this spot by Constantine,
was one of the most splendid of Christian basilicas.
To give the history of Rome from the time of St. Paul to the

ii

VIEW FROM THE CAPITOL. 233
present day, — to trace the growth of that spiritual power, which
fi-om being small as a grain of mustard-seed, at length over
shadowed the whole earth, would of itself require volumes, and
is, of com-se, wholly out of place in a work of this natiu-e. Nor
is it possible here to" delineate the different legendary sites and
objects connected with St. Peter and St. Paul ; all that can be
done is to cast a glance over the site of what was the most impor
tant part of Rome in the Apostle's day, and shortly afterwards,
and to dwell briefly upon its most remarkable monuments.
From the tower of the Capitol, the view southward embraces
by far the most interesting portion of ancient Rome. The half-
deserted area of the Forum is just beneath, with its triumphal
arches, temples, and scattered columns; their bases, deep below
the modern level of the soil, dug out, and exposing the pave
ment of the Via Sacra. In the centi-e of the Forum is seen the
soUtary column of Pliocas, and fm-ther on those three celebrated
pillars of the Comitium, which have served to after ages as
a canon of the Corinthian order of architecture. On the right,
the dark irregular mass of the Palatine Mount, the abode of the
Caesars, rises from the Forum, its mouldering vestiges of imperial
splendour matted together and overgro"wn with the cypress and
the "vine. The Arch of Titus is seen in the centre of the -view —
that of Constantine behind it. Beyond the walls, where the
Church of St. John Lateran is the most conspicuous object, the
melancholy Campagna, dotted with tombs and broken aqueducts,
is seen extending to the distant mountains of Albano and
Frascati. In the centre of this wide area of ruin, one huge pile
of red masonry rises darkly above the rest; and, though shorn
of much of its original grandem- by time and havoc, it is still no
less than imperial in aspect — the proudest and the most enduring
of all the monuments erected by the great mistress of the ancient
world. Since the eighth century, when the " sublime prover
bial expression," as Gibbon calls ft, "While the CoUseum stands
Rome shall stand; when the CoUseum faUs Rome shall faU; and

234 THE COLISEUM.
when Rome falls the world shall fall ; " was called forth by the
" rude enthusiasm " of the pilgrims of the North, great inroads
have been made upon the fabric ; yet, when the spectator stands
beneath its friple range of arches, towering almost into the sky,
and sweeping round in a majestic circle, his feeUngs of awe and
wonder will be hardly less than theirs.
As this edifice arose in the most palmy state of imperial
greatness, when, with the decline of liberty, the stern qualities
of the old Roman were gi-ving way to the thftst for luxury which
followed in the train of conquest; so its history is that of a
debased people — its colossal proportions commensurate with the
¦wide and gro-wing corruption of the age. But, as a spectacle,
nothing could possibly be grander than its pristine appearance.
" It was a builcUng of an eUiptic figure, 564 feet in length and
467 in breadth, founded on fourscore arches, and rising, -with
four successive orders of architecture, to the height of 140 feet.
The outside of the edifice was encrusted "with marble and deco
rated with statues. The slopes of the vast concave, which
formed the inside, were fUled and surrounded with sixty or
eighty rows of seats, of marble like"wise, covered with cushions,
and capable of receiving with ease above fourscore thousand
spectators. Sixty-four vomitories (for by that name the doors
were very aptly distinguished) pom-ed forth the immense
multitude ; and the entrances, passages, and staircases were con
trived with such exquisite skill, that each person, whether of the
senatorial, the equestrian, or the plebeian order, anived at his
destined place without trouble or confusion. Nothing was
omitted which, in any respect, could be subservient to the conve
nience and pleasure of the spectators. They were protected
from the sun and rain by an ample canopy occasionally dra-wn
over their heads. The air was continuaUy refreshed by the
playing of fountains, profusely impregnated with the gi-ateful
scent of aromatics. In the centre of the edifice, the arena or
stage was sfrewed -with the finest sand, and successively assumed

GLADIATORIAL COMBATS. 235
the most different forms. At one moment it seemed to rise out
of the earth, like the garden of the Hespeiides, and was after
wards broken into the rocks and caverns of Thrace. The sub-
tei-raneous pipes conveyed an inexhaustible supply of water, and
what had just before appeared a level plain, might be suddenly
converted into a wide lake, covered with armed vessels, and
replenished -with the monsters of the deep."
Here, and in the Circus, the Roman people were gratified by
the sight, and subsequent slaughter, of animals brought for the
pm-pose from every part of the "wide confines of their empire ;
and we read of the almost incredible massacre of an hundred
lions, an equal number of Uonesses, two hundred leopards, and
three hundred bears. From this it was but a step to human
blood ; and the passion for gladiatorial combats became so strong
that, beside the -wretched compulsory victims of this savage taste,
voluntary performers were not wanting, and even women, in the
end, appeared upon the arena. So deeply rooted in the popular
mind was the thftst for this accursed excitement, that it survived
more than half a century the fall of Paganism ; and was finally
put an end to by the seft-devotion of the monk Telemachus,
whose interference cost him his Ufe, but led to a decree, by the
Emperor Honorius, of final suppression. Few, we should think,
can stand -within this area, once slippery with human gore, and
re-people the mouldering seats of the amphitheatre, tier above
tier to the very sky, not only with the populace, but "with all
that was great and beautiful in ancient Rome — with the most
refined patrician, and even "with woman — gazing with one feeling
of eager delight, not only on the skill, but on the very blood of
their victims — -without a shudder. " But Time, the beautifier,"
has thrown over the scene of such horrors a solemn charm, difficult
to describe ; feeding, " like dull ffte upon a hoary brand," on the
stupendous ruin ; in which now, wom "with the rents and weather-
stains of ages, the huge broken vaults and buttresses aU over-
gro"wn by a "wild garland of i"vy and bird-haunted foUage, it has

236 ARCH OE TITUS.
half-obUterated the dark page of history, and withdraws the mind
fr-om its past purpose to its present beauty.
" There is given
Unto the thiigs of earth, which Time hath bent,
A spirit's feeling ; and where he hath leant
His hand, but broke his scythe, there is a power
And magic hi the ruin'd battlement.
For which the palace of the present hour
Must yield its pomp, and wait till ages are its dower."
Neither the Coliseum nor the greater part of the monuments
now seen from the Capitol, were erected till after St. Paul's death.
Of these there is one which, to the Christian or the Jew, must
ever be the most interesting at Rome, marking, as it does, the
final downfal of the Jewish state, and preserving upon its trium
phal tablets the only authentic representation in existence of the
implements of the temple worship. This is the Arch of Titus,
erected, after his death, to commemorate his capture of Jerusalem,
and which is, perhaps, the most simple and beautiful at Rome.
The nuned frieze bears the fr-iumphal procession of the conqueror ;
and, sculptured on the waU within the archway, is a procession
of captive Jews, bearing on their shoulders the spoils of the
temple at Jerusalem, — the eleven-branched golden candlestick,
the jubilee trumpets, the tables of the shew-bread, and other
details, copied, no doubt, from the originals themselves, which,
deposited in the temples, are said to have been finally carried
away by Genseric into Africa. This sculptiired tablet, and the
ecUfice which it adorns, form, perhaps, the most vi-vid page in
monumental history to be met with in the whole world.
Another memento of the same calamity also remains. Although
at that period bulletins and gazettes were unknown, and what we
now term "the press" was unthought of, yet there existed presses,
which at the imperial bidding could throw off their ten thousand
impressions, and which, circulating through the remotest ramifi
cation of the empire in a form almost universaUy accessible and

COIN — JUD^A CAPTA.

237

inteUigible, proclaimed the event to which they related; and
more than one of tiiese still exist in the coins struck upon this
occasion, a copy of one of which is here introduced.

COIN — 3TJIIMA CAPTA.

Here we must bring to a close these scattered pages, in which
an attempt has been made to convey to the reader, by the com
bination of fr-avelUng sketches and historical notices, some idea
of the present condition of spots which must remain hallowed as
long as the world endm-es, in many of which the last monu
mental vestiges of apostolic times are fast mouldering away, so
that the pilgrim of the next century "will vainly seek to trace
their form or to fix their site.

THE END.

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