A JOURNEY FROM ALEPPO TO JERUSALEM, (continued 3)

Returning from this place, we went to see the Greek and Armenian convents, which are contiguous to that of the Latins, and have each their several doors opening into the chapel of the holy manger. The next place we went to see was the grotto of the blessed Virgin. It is within thirty or forty yards of the convent, and is reverenced upon the account of a tradition that the blessed Virgin here hid herself and her divine babe from the fury of Herod for some time before their departure into Egypt. The grot is hollowed into a chalky rock; but this whiteness they will have to be not natural, but to have been occasioned by some miraculous drops of the blessed Virgin's milk, which fell from her breast while she was suckling the holy infant; and so much are they possessed with this opinion, that they believe the chalk of this grotto has a miraculous virtue for increasing women's milk; and I was assured, from many hands, that it is very frequently taken by the women hereabouts, as well Turks and Arabs as Christians, for that purpose, and that with very good effect; which perhaps may be true enough, it being well known how much fancy is wont to do in things of this nature.

April 2.—The next morning, presenting the guardian with two chequeens apiece for his civilities to us, we took our leave of Bethlehem, designing just to visit the wilderness and convent of St. John the Baptist, and so return to Jerusalem.

In this stage we first crossed part of that famous valley in which it is said that the angel, in one night, did such prodigious execution in the army of Sennacherib. Having travelled about half an hour, we came to a village called Booteshellah, concerning which they relate this remarkable property, that no Turk can live in it above two years. By virtue of this report, whether true or false, the Christians keep the village to themselves without molestation, no Turk being willing to stake his life in experimenting the truth of it. In somewhat less than an hour more we came to the fountain where they told us, but falsely, that Philip baptized the Ethiopian eunuch. The passage here is so rocky and uneven that pilgrims, finding how difficult the road is for a single horseman, are ready to think it impossible that a chariot, such as the eunuch rode in[585], should ever have been able to go this way; but it must not be judged what the road was in ancient times by what the negligence of the Turks have now reduced it to; for I observed, not far from the fountain, a place where the rock had been cut away in old time, in order to lay open a good road, by which it may be supposed that the same care was used all along this passage, though now time and negligence have obliterated both the fruit and almost the signs of such labour.

A little beyond this fountain we came to that which they call the village of St. Philip, at which, ascending a very steep hill, we arrived at the wilderness of St. John. A wilderness it is called, as being very rocky and mountainous: but is well cultivated, and produces plenty of corn, and vines, and olive trees. After a good hour's travel in this wilderness, we came to the cave and fountain where, as they say, the Baptist exercised those severe austerities related of him[586]. Near this cell there still grow some old locust trees, the monuments of the ignorance of the middle times[587]. These the friars aver to be the very same that yielded sustenance to the Baptist; and the Popish pilgrims, who dare not be wiser than such blind guides, gather the fruit of them, and carry it away with great devotion.

Having done with this place, we directed our course towards the convent of St. John, which is about a league distant eastward. In our way we passed along one side of the valley of Elah, where David slew the giant, that defier of the army of Israel[588]. We had likewise in sight Modon, a village on the top of a high hill, the burying-place of those heroical defenders of their country, the Maccabees.

Being come near the convent, we were led a little out of the way to visit a place which they call the house of Elizabeth, the mother of the Baptist. This was formerly a convent also, but it is now a heap of ruins, and the only remarkable place left in it is a grotto, in which (you are told) it was that the blessed Virgin saluted Elizabeth, and pronounced her divine magnificat[589].

The present convent of St. John, which is now inhabited, stands about three furlongs distance from this house of Elizabeth, and is supposed to be built at the place where St. John was born. If you chance to ask how it came to pass that Elizabeth lived in one house when she was big with the Baptist, and in another when she brought him forth, the answer you are like to receive is, that the former was her country, the latter her city habitation, and that it is no wonder for a wife of one of the priests of better rank, such as she was[590], to be provided with such variety.

The convent of St. John has been, within these four years, rebuilt from the ground. It is at present a large square building, uniform and neat all over; but that which is most eminently beautiful in it is its church. It consists of three aisles, and has in the middle a handsome cupola, under which is a pavement of mosaic, equal to, if not exceeding, the finest works of the ancients of that kind. At the upper end of the north aisle you go down seven marble steps, to a very splendid altar, erected over the very place where they say the holy Baptist was born. Here are artificers still employed in adding farther beauty and ornament to this convent, and yet it has been so expensive a work already, that the friars themselves give out that there is not a stone laid in it but has cost them a dollar; which, considering the large sums exacted by the Turks for licence to begin fabrics of this nature, and also their perpetual extortion and avarrias afterwards, besides the necessary charge of building, may be allowed to pass for no extravagant hyperbole.

Returning from St. John's toward Jerusalem, we came in about three quarters of an hour to a convent of the Greeks, taking its name from the holy cross. This convent is very neat in its structure, and in its situation delightful. But that which most deserves to be noted in it, is the reason of its name and foundation. It is because there is the earth that nourished the root, that bore the tree, that yielded the timber, that made the cross. Under the high altar you are shown a hole in the ground where the stump of the tree stood, and it meets with not a few visitants so much more very stocks than itself as to fall down and worship it. This convent is not above half an hour from Jerusalem; to which place we returned this evening, being the fifth day from our departure hence.

After our return, we were invited into the convent to have our feet washed, a ceremony performed to each pilgrim by the father guardian himself. The whole society stands around, singing some Latin hymns, all the while the father guardian is doing his office; and when he has done, every friar comes in order, and kisses the feet of the pilgrim. All this was performed with great order and solemnity; and if it served either to testify a sincere humility and charity in them, or to improve those excellent graces in others, it might pass for no unuseful ceremony.

April 3.—We went about mid-day to see the function of the Holy Fire[591]. This is a ceremony kept up by the Greeks and Armenians, upon a persuasion that every Easter-Eve there is miraculous flame descends from heaven into the holy sepulchre, and kindles all the lamps and candles there, as the sacrifice was burnt at the prayers of Elijah[592].

Coming to the church of the Holy Sepulchre, we found it crowded with a numerous and distracted mob, making a hideous clamour very unfit for that sacred place, and better becoming Bacchanals than Christians. Getting with some struggle through the crowd, we went up into the gallery on that side of the church next the Latin convent, whence we could discern all that passed in this religious frenzy.

They began their disorders by running round the holy sepulchre with all their might and swiftness, crying out, as they went, "Huia!" which signifies "this is he," or "this is it," an expression by which they assert the verity of the Christian religion. After they had, by these vertiginous circulations and clamours, turned their heads and inflamed their madness, they began to act the most antic tricks and postures, in a thousand shapes of distraction. Sometimes they dragged one another along the floor all round the sepulchre; sometimes they set one man upright on another's shoulders, and in this posture marched round; sometimes they took men with their heels upward, and hurried them about in such an indecent manner as to expose their nudities; sometimes they tumbled round the sepulchre after the manner of tumblers on the stage. In a word, nothing can be imagined more rude or extravagant than what was acted upon this occasion.

In this tumultuous frantic humour they continued from twelve till four o'clock: the reason of which delay was, because of a suit that was then in debate before the cadi, betwixt the Greeks and Armenians, the former endeavouring to exclude the latter from having any share in this miracle. Both parties having expended, as I was informed, five thousand dollars between them in this foolish controversy, the cadi at last gave sentence that they should enter the holy sepulchre together, as had been usual at former times. Sentence being thus given, at four o'clock both nations went on with their ceremony. The Greeks first set out, in a procession round the holy sepulchre, and immediately at their heels followed the Armenians. In this order they compassed the holy sepulchre thrice, having produced all their gallantry of standards, streamers, crucifixes, and embroidered habits upon this occasion.

Towards the end of this procession, there was a pigeon came fluttering into the cupola over the sepulchre, at sight of which there was a greater shout and clamour than before. This bird, the Latins told us, was purposely let fly by the Greeks, to deceive the people into an opinion that it was a visible descent of the Holy Ghost.

The procession being over, the suffragan of the Greek patriarch (he being himself at Constantinople), and the principal Armenian bishop, approached to the door of the sepulchre, and, cutting the string with which it is fastened and sealed, entered in, shutting the door after them, all the candles and lamps within having been before extinguished, in the presence of the Turks and other witnesses. The exclamations were doubled as the miracle drew nearer to its accomplishment, and the people pressed with such vehemence towards the door of the sepulchre, that it was not in the power of the Turks set to guard it, with the severest drubs, to keep them off. The cause of their pressing in this manner is the great desire they have to light their candles at the holy flame as soon as it is first brought out of the sepulchre, it being esteemed the most sacred and pure, as coming immediately from heaven.

The two miracle-mongers had not been above a minute in the holy sepulchre, when the glimmering of the holy fire was seen, or imagined to appear, through some chinks of the door; and certainly Bedlam itself never saw such an unruly transport as was produced in the mob at this sight. Immediately after, out came the two priests with blazing torches in their hands, which they held up at the door of the sepulchre, while the people thronged about with inexpressible ardour, every one striving to obtain a part of the first and purest flame. The Turks, in the meantime, with huge clubs, laid on them without mercy; but all this could not repel them, the excess of their transport making them insensible of pain. Those that got the fire applied it immediately to their beards, faces, and bosoms, pretending that it would not burn like an earthly flame. But I plainly saw none of them could endure this experiment long enough to make good that pretension.

So many hands being employed, you may be sure it could not be long before innumerable tapers were lighted. The whole church, galleries, and every place, seemed instantly to be in a flame, and with this illumination the ceremony ended.

It must be owned, that those two within the sepulchre performed their part with great quickness and dexterity; but the behaviour of the rabble without very much discredited the miracle. The Latins take a great deal of pains to expose this ceremony, as a most shameful imposture, and a scandal to the Christian religion; perhaps out of envy that others should be masters of so gainful a business. But the Greeks and Armenians pin their faith upon it, and make their pilgrimages chiefly upon this motive. And it is the deplorable unhappiness of their priests, that having acted the cheat so long already, they are forced now to stand to it, for fear of endangering the apostasy of their people.

Going out of the church after the rout was over, we saw several people gathered about the stone of unction, who, having got a good store of candles lighted with the holy fire, were employed in daubing pieces of linen with the wicks of them and the melting wax, which pieces of linen were designed for winding sheets; and it is the opinion of these poor people, that if they can but have the happiness to be buried in a shroud smutted with this celestial fire, it will certainly secure them from the flames of hell.

Sunday, April 4.—This day being our Easter, we did not go abroad to visit any places, the time requiring an employment of another nature.

April 5.—This morning we went to see some more of the curiosities which had been yet unvisited by us. The first place we came to was that which they call St. Peter's prison, from which he was delivered by the angel[593]. It is close to the church of the Holy Sepulchre, and still serves its primitive use. About the space of a furlong from thence, we came to an old church, held to have been built by Helena, in the place where stood the house of Zebedee. This is in the hands of the Greeks, who tell you, that Zebedee, being a fisherman, was wont to bring fish from Joppa thither, and to vend it at this place. Not far from hence we came to the place where, they say, stood anciently the iron gate, which opened to Peter of its own accord. A few steps farther is the small church built over the house of Mark, to which the apostle directed his course after his miraculous gaol-delivery. The Syrians, who have this place in their custody, pretend to show you the very window at which Rhoda looked out, while Peter knocked at the door. In the church they show a Syriac manuscript of the New Testament in folio, pretended to be eight hundred and fifty-two years old, and a little stone font used by the Apostles themselves in baptizing. About one hundred and fifty paces farther in the same street, is that which they call the house of St. Thomas, converted formerly into a church, but now a mosque. Not many paces farther is another street crossing the former, which leads you, on the right hand, to the place where they say our Lord appeared, after his Resurrection, to the three Marys[594]. Three Marys, the friars tell you, though in that place of St. Matthew mention is made but of two. The same street carries you, on the left hand, to the Armenian convent. The Armenians have here a very large and delightful space of ground, their convent and gardens taking up all that part of Mount Sion which is within the walls of the city. Their church is built over the place where they say St. James, the brother of John, was beheaded[595]. In a small chapel, on the north side of the church, is shown the very place of his decollation. In this church are two altars set out with extraordinary splendour, being decked with rich mitres, embroidered copes, crosses, both silver and gold, crowns, chalices, and other church utensils, without number. In the middle of the church is a pulpit made of tortoise-shell and mother of pearl, with a beautiful canopy, or cupola over it, of the same fabric. The tortoise-shell and mother of pearl are so exquisitely mingled and inlaid in each other, that the work far exceeds the materials. In a kind of anti-chapel to this church, there are laid up, on one side of the altar, three large rough stones, esteemed very precious, as being, one of them, the stone upon which Moses cast the two Tables, when he broke them, in indignation at the idolatry of the Israelites; the other two being brought, one from the place of our Lord's Baptism, the other from that of his Transfiguration.

Leaving this convent we went a little farther to another small church, which was likewise in the hands of the Armenians. This is supposed to be founded in the place where Annas's house stood. Within the church, not far from the door, is shown a hole in the wall, denoting the place where one of the officers of the high priest smote our blessed Saviour[596]. The officer, by whose impious hand that buffet was given, the friars will have to be the same Malchus whose ear our Lord had healed. In the court before this chapel is an olive tree, of which it is reported, that Christ was chained to it for some time, by order of Annas, to secure him from escaping.

From the house of Annas we were conducted out of Sion Gate, which is near adjoining to that which they call the house of Caiaphas, which is another small chapel belonging also to the Armenians. Here, under the altar, they tell us is deposited that very stone which was laid to secure the door of our Saviour's sepulchre[597]. It was a long time kept in the church of the sepulchre; but the Armenians, not many years since, stole it from thence by a stratagem, and conveyed it to this place. The stone is two yards and a quarter long, high one yard, and broad as much. It is plastered all over, except in five or six little places, where it is left bare to receive the immediate kisses and other devotions of pilgrims. Here is likewise shown a little cell, said to have been our Lord's prison till the morning when he was carried from hence before Pilate; and also the place where Peter was frightened into a denial of his Master.

A little farther without the gate is the church of the Cœnaculum, where they say Christ instituted his Last Supper. It is now a mosque, and not to be seen by Christians. Near this is a well, which is said to mark out the place at which the Apostles divided from each other, in order to go every man to his several charge; and close by the well are the ruins of a house in which the blessed Virgin is supposed to have breathed her last. Going eastward, a little way down the hill, we were shown the place where a Jew arrested the corpse of the blessed Virgin, as she was carried to her interment, for which impious presumption he had his hand withered wherewith he had seized the bier. About as much lower in the middle of the hill, they show you the grotto in which St. Peter wept so bitterly for his inconstancy to his Lord.

We extended our circuit no farther at this time, but entered the city again at Sion Gate. Turning down as soon as we had entered, on the right hand, and going about two furlongs close by the city wall, we were taken into a garden lying at the foot of Mount Moriah, on the south side. Here we were shown several large vaults annexed to the mountain on this side, and running at least fifty yards under ground. They were built in two isles, arched at top with huge firm stone, and sustained with tall pillars consisting each of one single stone, and two yards in diameter. This might possibly be some under-ground work made to enlarge the area of the temple, for Josephus seems to describe some such work as this, erected over the valley on this side of the temple[598].

From these vaults we returned towards the convent. In our way we passed through the Turkish bazaars, and took a view of the Beautiful Gate of the Temple. But we could but just view it in passing, it not being safe to stay here long, by reason of the superstition of the Turks.

April 6.—The next morning we took another progress about the city. We made our exit at Bethlehem Gate, and turning down on the left hand under the castle of the Pisans, came about a furlong and a half to that which they call Bathsheba's Pool. It lies at the bottom of Mount Sion, and is supposed to be the same in which Bathsheba was washing herself, when David spied her from the terrace of his palace. But others refer this accident to another lesser pool in a garden just within Bethlehem Gate; and perhaps both opinions are equally right.

A little below this pool begins the valley of Hinnom, on the west side of which is the place called anciently the Potter's Field, and afterwards the Field of Blood, from its being purchased with the pieces of silver which were the price of the blood of Christ; but at present, from that veneration which it has obtained among Christians, it is called Campo Sancto. It is a small plot of ground not above thirty yards long, and about half as much broad. One moiety of it is taken up by a square fabric twelve yards high, built for a charnel-house. The corpses are let down into it from the top, there being five holes left open for that purpose. Looking down through these holes we could see many bodies under several degrees of decay, from which it may be conjectured that this grave does not make that quick despatch with the corpses committed to it, which is commonly reported. The Armenians have the command of this burying place, for which they pay the Turks a rent of one seuin a day. The earth is of a chalky substance hereabouts.

A little below the Campo Sancto is shown an intricate cave or sepulchre consisting of several rooms, one within another, in which the apostles are said to have hid themselves, when they forsook their Master, and fled. The entrance of the cave discovers signs of its having been adorned with painting in ancient times.

A little farther, the valley of Hinnom terminates, that of Jehoshaphat running across the mouth of it. Along the bottom of this latter valley runs the brook Cedron; a brook in wintertime, but without the least drop of water in it all the time we were at Jerusalem.

In the valley of Jehoshaphat, the first thing you are carried to is the well of Nehemiah; so called because reputed to be the same place from which the restorer of Israel recovered the fire of the altar, after the Babylonish captivity[599]. A little higher in the valley, on the left hand, you come to a tree supposed to mark out the place where the Evangelical Prophet was sawn asunder. About one hundred paces higher, on the same side, is the pool of Siloam. It was anciently dignified with a church built over it; but, when we were there, a tanner made no scruple to dress his hides in it. Going about a furlong farther on the same side, you come to the fountain of the blessed Virgin, so called, because she was wont (as is reported) to resort hither for water; but at what time and upon what occasions is not yet agreed. Over against this fountain, on the other side of the valley, is a village called Siloe, in which Solomon is said to have kept his strange wives; and above the village is a hill called the Mountain of Offence, because there Solomon built the high places mentioned in 1 Kings xi. 7, his wives having perverted his wise heart to follow their idolatrous abominations in his declining years. On the same side, and not far distant from Siloe, they show another Aceldama, or Field of Blood; so called because there it was that Judas, by the just judgment of God, met with his compounded death[600]. A little farther on the same side of the valley, they showed us several Jewish monuments. Amongst the rest there are two noble antiquities, which they call the sepulchre of Zachary and the pillar of Absolom. Close by the latter is the sepulchre of Jehoshaphat, from which the whole valley takes its name.

Upon the edge of the hill, on the opposite side of the valley, there runs along, in a direct line, the wall of the city, near the corner of which there is a short end of a pillar jutting out of the wall. Upon this pillar, the Turks have a tradition that Mohammed shall sit in judgment at the last day; and that all the world shall be gathered together in the valley below, to receive their doom from his mouth. A little farther northward is the gate of the Temple. It is at present walled up, because the Turks here have a prophecy that their destruction shall enter at that gate, the completion of which prediction they endeavour by this means to prevent. Below this gate, in the bottom of the valley, is a broad hard stone, discovering several impressions on it, which you may fancy to be footsteps. These, the friars tell you, are prints made by our blessed Saviour's feet, when, after his apprehension, he was hurried violently away to the tribunal of his blood-thirsty persecutors.

From hence, keeping still in the bottom of the valley, you come in a few paces to a place which they call the sepulchre of the blessed Virgin. It has a magnificent descent down into it of forty-seven stairs; on the right hand as you go down is the sepulchre of St. Anna, the mother, and on the left that of St. Joseph, the husband of the blessed Virgin.

Having finished our visit to this place, we went up the hill toward the city. In the side of the ascent we were shown a broad stone on which they say St. Stephen suffered martyrdom; and not far from it is a grotto, into which they tell you the outrageous Jewish zealots cast his body, when they had satiated their fury upon him. From hence we went immediately to St. Stephen's Gate, so called from its vicinity to this place of the protomartyr's suffering, and so returned to our lodging.

April 7.—The next morning we set out again, in order to see the sanctuaries and other visitable places upon Mount Olivet. We went out at St. Stephen's Gate, and, crossing the Valley of Jehoshaphat, began immediately to ascend the mountains. Being got about two-thirds of the way up, we came to certain grottos cut with intricate windings and caverns under ground; these are called the sepulchres of the prophets. A little higher up are twelve arched vaults under ground, standing side by side; these were built in memory of the twelve apostles, who are said to have compiled their creed in this place. Sixty paces higher you come to the place where they say Christ uttered his prophecy concerning the final destruction of Jerusalem[601]. And a little on the right hand of this is the place where they say he dictated a second time the Pater Noster to his disciples[602]. Somewhat higher is the cave of St. Pelagia; and as much more above that, a pillar, signifying the place where an angel gave the blessed Virgin three days' warning of her death. At the top of the hill you come to the place of our blessed Lord's ascension. Here was anciently a large church, built in honour of that glorious triumph, but all that now remains of it is only an octagonal cupola, about eight yards in diameter, standing, as they say, over the very place where were set the last footsteps of the Son of God here on earth. Within the cupola there is seen, in a hard stone, as they tell you, the print of one of his feet. Here was also that of the other foot some time since, but it has been removed from hence by the Turks into the great mosque upon Mount Moria. This chapel of the Ascension the Turks have the custody of, and use it for a mosque. There are many other holy places about Jerusalem, which the Turks pretend to have a veneration for, equally with the Christians, and under that pretence they take them into their own hands. But whether they do this out of real devotion, or for lucre's sake, and to the end that they may exact money from the Christians for admission into them, I will not determine.

About two furlongs from this place, northward, is the highest part of Mount Olivet; and upon that was anciently erected a high tower, in memory of that apparition of the two angels to the apostles after our blessed Lord's ascension[603], from which the tower itself had the name given it of Viri Galilæi! This ancient monument remained till about two years since, when it was demolished by a Turk, who had bought the field in which it stood; but nevertheless you have still, from the natural height of the place, a large prospect of Jerusalem and the adjacent country, and of the Dead Sea, &c.

From this place we descended the mount again by another road. At about the midway down they show you the place where Christ beheld the city and wept over it[604]. Near the bottom of the hill is a great stone, upon which you are told the blessed Virgin let fall her girdle after her assumption, in order to convince St. Thomas, who, they say, was troubled with a fit of his old incredulity upon this occasion. There is still to be seen a small winding channel upon the stone, which they will have to be the impression made by the girdle when it fell, and to be left for the conviction of all such as shall suspect the truth of their story of the assumption.

About twenty yards lower they show you Gethsemane, an even plot of ground not above fifty-seven yards square, lying between the foot of Mount Olivet and the brook Cedron. It is well planted with olive trees, and those of so old a growth, that they are believed to be the same that stood here in our blessed Saviour's time, in virtue of which persuasion the olives, and olive stones, and oil, which they produce, became an excellent commodity in Spain; but that these trees cannot be so ancient as is pretended is evident from what Josephus testifies[605], viz. that Titus, in his siege of Jerusalem, cut down all the trees within about one hundred furlongs of Jerusalem; and that the soldiers were forced to fetch wood so far for making their mounts when they assaulted the temple.

At the upper corner of the garden is a flat, naked ledge of rock, reputed to be the place on which the apostles, Peter, James, and John, fell asleep during the agony of our Lord; and a few paces from hence is a grotto, said to be the place in which Christ underwent that bitter part of his passion.

About eight paces from the place where the apostles slept is a small shred of ground, twelve yards long and one broad, supposed to be the very path on which the traitor Judas walked up to Christ, saying "Hail Master, and kissed him." This narrow path is separated by a wall out of the midst of the garden, as a terra damnata, a work the more remarkable as being done by the Turks, who, as well as Christians, detest the very ground on which was acted such an infamous treachery.

From hence we crossed the brook Cedron, close by the reputed sepulchre of the blessed Virgin, and, entering at St. Stephen's Gate, returned again to the convent.

April 8.—We went to see the palace of Pilate, I mean the place where they say it stood; for now an ordinary Turkish house possesses its room. It is not far from the gate of St. Stephen, and borders upon the area of the temple on the north side. From the terrace of this house you have a fair prospect of all the place where the temple stood; indeed the only good prospect that is allowed you of it; for there is no going within the borders of it without forfeiting your life, or, which is worse, your religion. A fitter place for an august building could not be found in the whole world than this area. It lies upon the top of Mount Moriah, over against Mount Olivet, the valley of Jehoshaphat lying between both mountains. It is, as far as I could compute by walking round it without, five hundred and seventy of my paces in length, and three hundred and seventy in breadth; and one may still discern marks of the great labour that it cost to cut away the hard rock, and to level such a spacious area upon so strong a mountain. In the middle of the area stands, at present, a mosque, of an octagonal figure, supposed to be built upon the same ground where anciently stood the sanctum sanctorum. It is neither eminent for its largeness nor its structure; and yet it makes a very stately figure by the sole advantage of its situation.

In this pretended house of Pilate is shown the room in which Christ was mocked with the ensigns of royalty and buffeted by the soldiers. At the coming out of the house is a descent, where was anciently the scala sancta. On the other side of the street (which was anciently part of the palace also) is the room where they say our Lord was scourged. It was once used for a stable by the son of a certain pasha of Jerusalem; but presently, for this profanation, they say there came such a mortality amongst his horses as forced him to resign the place; by which means it was redeemed from that sordid use; but, nevertheless, when we were there, it was no better than a weaver's shop. In our return from Pilate's palace we passed along the Dolorous Way, in which walk we were shown in order, first, the place where Pilate brought our Lord forth, to present to the people, with this mystic saying, "Behold the Man!" secondly, where Christ fainted thrice under the weight of his cross; thirdly, where the blessed Virgin swooned away at so tragical a spectacle; fourthly, where St. Veronica presented to him the handkerchief to wipe his bleeding brows; fifthly, where the soldiers compelled Simon the Cyrenian to bear his cross; all which places I need only to name.

April 9.—We went to take a view of that which they call the pool of Bethesda. It is one hundred and twenty paces long, and forty broad, and at least eight deep, but void of water. At its west end it discovers some old arches, now dammed up. These some will have to be the five porches in which sat that multitude of lame, halt, and blind[606]; but the mischief is, instead of five, there are but three of them. The pool is contiguous on one side to St. Stephen's Gate, on the other to the area of the temple.

From hence we went to the convent or nunnery of St. Anne. The church here is large and entire, and so are part of the lodgings; but both are desolate and neglected. In a grotto under the church is shown the place where they say the blessed Virgin was born. Near this church they show the Pharisee's house, where Mary Magdalen exhibited those admirable evidences of a penitent affection towards our Saviour, "washing his feet with her tears, and wiping them with her hair."[607] This place also has been anciently dignified with holy buildings, but they are now neglected.

This was our morning's work. In the afternoon we went to see Mount Gihon, and the pool of the same name. It lies about two furlongs without Bethlehem Gate, westward. It is a stately pool, one hundred and sixty paces long and sixty-seven broad, and lined with wall and plaster, and was, when we were there, well stored with water.

April 10.—We went to take our leaves of the holy sepulchre, this being the last time it was to be opened this festival.

Upon this finishing day, and the night following, the Turks allow free admittance for all people, without demanding any fee for entrance as at other times, calling it a day of charity. By this promiscuous licence they let in not only the poor, but, as I was told, the lewd and vicious also, who come thither to get convenient opportunity for prostitution, profaning the holy places in such manner (as it is said) that they were not worse defiled even when the heathens here celebrated their aphrodisia.

Sunday, April 11.—Now began the Turks' Byram, that is the feast which they celebrate after their Lent, called by them Ramadan. This being a time of great libertinism among the rabble, we thought it prudent to confine ourselves to our lodgings for some time, to the end that we might avoid such insolences as are usual in such times of public festivity. Our confinement was the less incommodious, because there was hardly any thing, either within or about the city, which we had not already visited.

April 12, 13.—We kept close to our quarters, but, however, not in idleness; the time being now come when we were to contrive and provide things in order for our departure. We had a bad account, from all hands, of the country's being more and more embroiled by the Arabs, which made us somewhat unresolved what way and method to take for our return; but during our suspense it was told us that the mosolem was likewise upon his return to his master, the pasha of Tripoli, upon which intelligence we resolved, if possible, to join ourselves to his company.

April 14.—We went, with a small present in our hands, to wait upon the mosolem, in order to inquire the time of his departure and acquaint him with our desire to go under his protection. He assured us of his setting out the next morning; so we immediately took our leaves in order to prepare ourselves for accompanying him.

I was willing, before our departure, to measure the circuit of the city; so, taking one of the friars with me, I went out in the afternoon in order to pace the walls round. We went out at Bethlehem Gate; and, proceeding on the right hand, came about to the same gate again. I found the whole city 4630 paces in circumference, which I computed thus:—

Paces.

From Bethlehem Gate to the corner on the right hand400

From that corner to Damascus Grate680

From Damascus Gate to Herod's380

From Herod's Gate to Jeremiah's prison150

From Jeremiah's prison to the corner next the valley of Jehoshaphat225

From that corner to St. Stephen's Gate385

From St. Stephen's Gate to the Golden Gate240

From the Golden Gate to the corner of the wall380

From that corner to the Dung Gate470

From the Dung Gate to Sion Gate605

From Sion Gate to the corner of the wall215

From that corner to Bethlehem Gate500

In all, paces 4630

The reduction of my paces to yards is by casting away a tenth part, ten of my paces making nine yards; by which reckoning the 4630 paces amount to 4167 yards, which make just two miles and a half.

April 15.—This morning our diplomata were presented us by the father guardian, to certify our having visited all the holy places; and we presented the convent fifty dollars a man as a gratuity for their trouble; which offices having passed betwixt us, we took our leaves.

We set out together with the mosolem, and, proceeding in the same road by which we came, lodged the first night at Khan Leban; but the mosolem left us here, and continued his stage as far as Naplosa; so we saw him no more. The country people were now every where at plough in the fields, in order to sow cotton. It was observable that, in ploughing, they used goads of an extraordinary size. Upon measuring of several, I found them about eight feet long, and at the bigger end six inches in circumference. They were armed at the lesser end with a sharp prickle for driving the oxen, and at the other end with a small spade or paddle of iron, strong and massy, for cleansing the plough from the clay that encumbers it in working. May we not from hence conjecture that it was with such a goad as one of these that Shamgar made that prodigious slaughter related of him[608]? I am confident that whoever should see one of these instruments would judge it to be a weapon not less fit, perhaps fitter, than a sword for such an execution. Goads of this sort I saw always used hereabouts, and also in Syria; and the reason is, because the same single person both drives the oxen, and also holds and manages the plough, which makes it necessary to use such a goad as is above described to avoid the encumbrance of two instruments.

April 16.—Leaving Khan Leban, we proceeded still in our former road, and, passing by Naplosa and Samaria, we came to the fountain Selee, and there took up our lodging this night.

April 17.—The next morning we continued on in the same road that we travelled when outward bound, till we came to Caphar Arab. At this place we left our former way, and, instead of turning off on the left hand to go to Acra, we kept our course strait forwards, resolving to cross directly athwart the plain of Esdraelon, and to visit Nazareth.

Proceeding in this course from Caphar Arab, we came in about half an hour to Jeneen. This is a large old town, on the skirts of Esdraelon. It has in it an old castle and two mosques, and is the chief residence of the emir Chibly. Here we were accosted with a command from the emir not to advance any farther, till he should come in person to receive of us his caphars. This was very unwelcome news to us, who had met with a trial of his civility before. But, however, we had no remedy, and therefore thought it best to comply as contentedly as we could. Having been kept thus in suspense from two in the morning till sun-set, we then received an order from the prince to pay the caphar to an officer, whom he sent to receive it and dismiss us.

Having received this licence, we made all the haste we could to despatch the caphar, and to get clear of these Arabs. But, notwithstanding all our diligence, it was near midnight before we could finish. After which we departed, and, entering immediately into the plain of Esdraelon, travelled over it all night, and in seven hours reached its other side. Here we had a very steep and rocky ascent; but, however, in half an hour we mastered it, and arrived at Nazareth.

Sunday, April 18.—Nazareth is at present only an inconsiderable village, situated in a kind of round concave valley, on the top of a high hill. We were entertained at the convent built over the place of the Annunciation. At this place are, as it were, immured, seven or eight Latin fathers, who live a life truly mortified, being perpetually in fear of the Arabs, who are absolute lords of the country.

We went in the afternoon to visit the sanctuary of this place. The church of Nazareth stands in a cave supposed to be the place where the blessed Virgin received that joyful message of the angel, "Hail thou that art highly favoured,"[609] &c. It resembles the figure of a cross. That part of it that stands for the tree of the cross is fourteen paces long and six over, and runs directly into the grotto, having no other arch over it at top but that of the natural rock. The traverse part of the cross is nine paces long and four broad, and is built athwart the mouth of the grotto. Just at the section of the cross are erected two granite pillars, each two feet and one inch diameter, and about three feet distant from each other. They are supposed to stand on the very places, one where the angel, the other where the blessed Virgin stood, at the time of the Annunciation. Of these pillars, the innermost, being that of the blessed Virgin, has been broke away by the Turks, in expectation of finding treasure under it, so that eighteen inches length of it is clean gone, between the pillar and its pedestal. Nevertheless it remains erect, though by what art it is sustained I could not discern. It touches the roof above, and is probably hung upon that; unless you had rather take the friars' account of it, viz. that it is supported by a miracle.

After this we went to see the house of Joseph, being the same, as they tell you, in which the Son of God lived for near thirty years, in subjection to man[610]. Not far distant from hence they show you the synagogue where our blessed Lord preached that sermon[611] by which he so exasperated his countrymen. Both these places lie north-west from the convent, and were anciently dignified each with a handsome church, but these monuments of queen Helena's piety are now in ruins.

April 19.—This day we destined for visiting Mount Tabor, standing by itself in the plain of Esdraelon, about two or three furlongs within the plain.

Its being situated in such a separate manner, has induced most authors to conclude that this must needs be that holy mountain, as St. Peter styles it[612], which was the place of our blessed Lord's Transfiguration[613]. You read that Christ "took with him Peter, James, and John, into a mountain apart," from which description they infer that the mountain there spoken of can be no other than Tabor. The conclusions may possibly be true, but the argument used to prove it seems incompetent; because the term κατ' ἰδ.αν, or apart, most likely relates to the withdrawing and retirement of the persons there spoken of, and not the situation of the mountain.

After a very laborious ascent, which took up near an hour, we reached the highest part of the mountain. It has a plain area at top, most fertile and delicious, of an oval figure, extending about one furlong in breadth, and two in length. This area is inclosed with trees on all parts, except toward the south. It was anciently environed with walls and trenches, and other fortifications, of which it exhibits many remains at this day.

In this area there are in several places cisterns of good water; but those which are most devoutly visited are three contiguous grottos, made to represent the three tabernacles which St. Peter proposed to erect, in the astonishment that possessed him at the glory of the Transfiguration. "Lord," says he, "it is good for us to be here; let us make three tabernacles, one for thee," &c.

I cannot forbear to mention, in this place, an observation which is very obvious to all that visit the Holy Land, viz. that almost all passages and histories related in the Gospel are represented by them that undertake to show where every thing was done, as having been done most of them in grottos, and that even in such cases where the condition and the circumstances of the actions themselves seem to require places of another nature. Thus, if you would see the place where St. Anne was delivered of the blessed Virgin, you are carried to a grotto; if the place of the Annunciation, it is also a grotto; if the place where the blessed Virgin saluted Elizabeth; if that of the Baptist's, or that of our blessed Saviour's Nativity; if that of the Agony, or that of St. Peter's repentance, or that where the Apostles made the Creed, or this of the Transfiguration, all these places are also grottos; and, in a word, wherever you go, you find almost every thing is represented as done under ground. Certainly grottos were anciently held in great esteem, or else they could never have been assigned, in spite of all probability, for the places in which were done so many various actions. Perhaps it was the hermits' way of living in grottos from the fifth or sixth century downward, that has brought them ever since to be in so great reputation.

From the top of Tabor you have a prospect which, if nothing else, well rewards the labour of ascending it. It is impossible for man's eyes to behold a higher gratification of this nature. On the north-west, you discern at a distance the Mediterranean; and all around you have the spacious and beautiful plains of Esdraelon and Galilee, which present you with the view of so many places memorable for the resort and miracles of the Son of God. At the bottom of Tabor westward stands Daberah, a small village, supposed by some to take its name from Deborah, that famous judge and deliverer of Israel. Near this valley is the fountain of Kishon. Not many leagues distant eastward, you see Mount Hermon, at the foot of which is seated Nain, famous for our Lord's raising the widow's son there[614]; and Endor, the place where dwelt the witch consulted by Saul. Turning a little southward, you have in view the high mountains of Gilboa, fatal to Saul and his sons. Due east, you discover the Sea of Tiberias, distant about one day's journey, and close by that sea they show a steep mountain, down which the swine ran, and perished in the waters[615]. A few points towards the north appears that which they call the Mount of the Beatitudes; a small rising, from which our blessed Saviour delivered his sermon in the fifth, sixth, and seventh chapters of St. Matthew. Not far from this little hill is the city of Saphet, supposed to be the ancient Bethulia. It stands upon a very eminent and conspicuous mountain, and is seen far and near. May we not suppose that Christ alludes to this city in those words of his sermon, 'A city set on a hill cannot be hid[616]?' A conjecture which seems the more probable, because our Lord, in several places, affects to illustrate his discourse by comparisons taken from objects that were then present before the eyes of his auditors; as when he bids them "Behold the fowls of the air,"[617] "and the lilies of the field."[618] From Mount Tabor you have likewise the sight of a place which they will tell you was Dotham, where Joseph was sold by his brethren; and of the field where our blessed Saviour fed the multitude with a few loaves and fewer fishes. But whether it was the place where he divided the five loaves and two fishes amongst the five thousand[619], or the seven loaves amongst the four thousand[620], I left them to agree among themselves.

Having received great satisfaction in the sight of this mountain, we returned to the convent the same way that we came. After dinner we made another small excursion, in order to see that which they call the Mountain of the Precipitation; that is, the brow of the hill from which the Nazarites would have thrown down our blessed Saviour, being incensed at his sermon preached to them[621]. This precipice is at least half a league distant from Nazareth southward. In going to it, you cross first over the valley in which Nazareth stands, and then, going down two or three furlongs in a narrow cleft between the rocks, you there clamber up a short but difficult way on the right hand, at the top of which you find a great stone standing on the brink of a precipice, which is said to be the very place where our Lord was destined to be thrown down by his enraged neighbours, had he not made a miraculous escape out of their hands[622]. There are in the stone several little holes, resembling the prints of fingers thrust into it. These, if the friars say truth, are the impresses of Christ's fingers, made in the hard stone, while he resisted the violence that was offered to him. At this place are seen two or three cisterns for saving water, and a few ruins, which are all that now remains of a religious building founded here by the empress Helena.

April 20.—The next morning we took our leave of Nazareth, presenting the guardian five a-piece for his trouble and charge in entertaining us. We directed our course for Acra, in order to which, going at first northward, we crossed the hills that encompassed the vale of Nazareth on that side; after which we turned to the westward, and passed in view of Cana of Galilee, the place signalized with the beginning of Christ's miracles[623]. In an hour and a half more we came to Sepharia, a place reverenced for being the reputed habitation of Joachim and Anna, the parents of the blessed Virgin. It had once the name of Diocesaria, and was a place of good repute; but at present it is reduced to a poor village, showing only here and there a few ruins to testify its ancient better condition. On the west side of the town stands good part of a large church, built on the same place where they say stood the house of Joachim and Anna; it is fifty paces long, and in breadth proportionable.

At Sephira begins the delicious plain of Zebulon. We were an hour and a half in crossing it, and in an hour and a half more passed by a desolate village on the right hand, by name Satyra. In half an hour more we entered the plains of Acra, and in one hour and a half more arrived at that place. Our stage, this day, was somewhat less than seven hours. It lay about west and by north, and through a country very delightful, and fertile beyond imagination.

April 21.—At Acra we were very courteously treated by the French consul and merchants, as we had been when outward-bound. Having staid only one night, we took our leave, and, returning by the same way of the coast that I have described before, came the first night to our old lodgings at Solomon's cisterns, and the second to Sidon.

April 22.—Three hours distant from Sidon, we were carried by the French consul to see a place which we had passed by unregarded in our journey outward, though it very well deserves a traveller's observation.

At about the distance of a mile from the sea, there runs along a high rocky mountain, in the side of which are hewn a multitude of grottos, all very little differing from each other. They have entrances of about two feet square. On the inside you find in most, or all of them, a room of about four yards square, on the one side of which is the door, on the other there are as many little cells, elevated about two feet above the floor. There are of these subterraneous caverns, as I was informed by those who had counted them, two hundred in number. They go by the name of the grottos of.... The great doubt concerning them is, whether they were made for the dead or the living. That which makes me doubt of this is, because, though all the ancient sepulchres in this country very much resemble these grottos, yet they have something peculiar in them, which entices one to believe they might be designed for the reception of the living; for several of the cells within were of a figure not fit for having corpses deposited in them, being some a yard square, some more, and some less, and seeming to be made for family uses. Over the door of every cell there was a channel cut to convey the water away, that it might not annoy the rooms within. And because the cells were cut above each other, some higher, some lower, in the side of the rock, there were convenient stairs cut for the easier communication betwixt the upper and lower regions. At the bottom of the rock were also several old cisterns for storing up water. From all which arguments it may, with probability at least, be concluded, that these places were contrived for the use of the living, and not of the dead. But what sort of people they were that inhabited this subterraneous city, or how long ago they lived, I am not able to resolve. True it is, Strabo describes the habitations of the Troglodyte to have been somewhat of this kind.

April 23.—We continued this day at Sidon, being treated by our friends of the French nation with great generosity.

April 24.—This morning we took our leave of the worthy French consul, and the rest of our other friends of that nation, in order to go for Damascus.

Damascus lies near due east from Sidon. It is usually esteemed three days' journey distant, the road lying over the mountain Libanus and Anti-Libanus.

Having gone about half an hour through the olive yards of Sidon, we came to the foot of Mount Libanus. In two hours and a half more we came to a small village called Caphar Milki. Thus far our ascent was easy; but now it began to grow more steep and difficult; in which having laboured one hour and one-third more, we then came to a fresh fountain called Ambus Lee, where we encamped for this night. Our whole stage was four hours and one-third; our course east.

April 25.—The next day we continued ascending for three good hours, and then arrived at the highest ridge of the mountain, where the snow lay close to the road. We began immediately to descend again on the other side, and in two hours came to a small village called Meshgarah, where there gushes out at once from the side of the mountain a plentiful stream, which falling down into a valley below makes a fine brook, and, after a current of about two leagues, loses itself in a river called Letane.

At Meshgarah there is a caphar[624] demanded by the Druses, who are the possessors of these mountains. We were for a little while perplexed by the excessive demand made upon us by the caphar-men, but finding us obstinate they desisted.

Having gone one hour beyond Meshgarah, we got clear of the mountain, and entered into a valley called Bocat. This Bocat seems to be the same with Bicath Aven, mentioned in Amos i. 5, together with Eden and Damascus, for there is very near it, in Mount Libanus, a place called Eden to this day. It might also have the name of Aven, that is, Vanity, given to it, from the idolatrous worship of Baal, practised at Balbec, or Heliopolis, which is situate in this valley. The valley is about two hours over, and in length extends several days' journey, lying near north-east and south-west. It is inclosed on both sides with two parallel mountains, exactly resembling each other, the one that which we lately passed over between this and Sidon, the other opposite against it, towards Damascus. The former I take to be the true Libanus, the latter Anti-Libanus, which two mountains are nowhere so well distinguished as at this valley.

In the bottom of the valley there runs a large river called Letane. It rises about two days' journey northward, not far from Balbec, and, keeping its course all down the valley, falls at last into the river Casimir, or, as it is erroneously called, Eleutherus.

Thus far our course had been due east, but here we inclined some points towards the north. Crossing obliquely over the valley, we came in half an hour to a bridge over the river Letane. It consists of five stone arches, and is called Kor Aren, from a village at a little distance of the same name. At this bridge we crossed the river, and, having travelled about an hour and a half on its bank, pitched our tents there for this night. Our whole stage was eight hours.

April 26.—The next morning we continued our oblique course over the valley Bocat. In an hour we passed close by a small village called Jib Jeneen, and in three quarters of an hour more came to the foot of the mountain Anti-Libanus. Here we had an easy ascent, and in half an hour passed, on our right hand, by a village called Uzzi. In three quarters of an hour more we arrived at Ayta, a village of Christians of the Greek communion. At this last place the road began to grow very rocky and troublesome, in which having travelled an hour we arrived at a small rivulet called Ayn Tentloe. Here we entered into a narrow cleft between two rocky mountains, passing through which we arrived in four hours at Demass, gently descending all the way. At Demass a small caphar[625] is demanded, which being despatched, we put forward again, but had not gone above an hour and a half when it grew dark, and we were forced to stop at a very inhospitable place, but the best we could find, affording no grass for our horses, nor any water, but just enough to breed frogs, by which we were serenaded all night.

April 27.—Early the next morning we deserted this uncomfortable lodging, and in about an hour arrived at the river Barrady, our road still descending. This is the river that waters Damascus, and enriches it with all its plenty and pleasure. It is not so much as twenty yards over, but comes pouring down from the mountains with great rapidity, and with so vast a body of water, that it abundantly supplies all the thirsty gardens, and the city of Damascus.

We crossed Barrady at a new bridge over it called Dummar. On the other side our road ascended, and in half an hour brought us to the brink of a high precipice, at the bottom of which the river runs, the mountain being here cleft asunder to give it admission into the plain below.

At the highest part of the precipice is erected a small structure, like a sheikh's sepulchre, concerning which the Turks relate this story:—That their prophet, coming near Damascus, took his station at that place for some time, in order to view the city, and, considering the ravishing beauty and delightfulness of it, he would not tempt his frailty by entering into it, but instantly departed, with this reflection upon it, that there was but one Paradise designed for man, and, for his part, he was resolved not to take his in this world.

You have, indeed, from the precipice, the most perfect prospect of Damascus. And certainly no place in the world can promise the beholder, at a distance, greater voluptuousness. It is situate in an even plain of so great extent, that you can but just discern the mountains that compass it on the farther side. It stands on the west side of the plain, at not above two miles' distance from the place where the river Barrady breaks out from between the mountains, its gardens extending almost to the very place.

The city itself is of a long straight figure, its ends pointing near north-east and south-west. It is very slender in the middle, but swells bigger at each end, especially at that to the north-east. In its length, as far as I could guess by my eye, it may extend near two miles. It is thick-set with mosques and steeples, the usual ornaments of the Turkish cities, and is encompassed with gardens extending no less, according to common estimation, than thirty miles round, which makes it look like a noble city in a vast wood. The gardens are thick-set with fruit-trees of all kinds, kept fresh and verdant by the waters of Barrady. You discover in them many turrets, and steeples, and summer-houses frequently peeping out from among the green boughs, which may be conceived to add no small advantage and beauty to the prospect. On the north side of this vast wood is a place called Solhees, where are the most beautiful summer-houses and gardens.

The greatest part of this pleasantness and fertility proceeds, as I said, from the waters of Barrady, which supply both the gardens and city in great abundance. This river, as soon as it issues out from between the cleft of the mountain before mentioned into the plain, is immediately divided into three streams, of which the middlemost and biggest runs directly to Damascus through a large open field called the Ager Damascenus, and is distributed to all the cisterns and fountains of the city. The other two, which I take to be the work of art, are drawn round, one to the right hand, and the other to the left, on the borders of the gardens, into which they are let as they pass by little currents, and so dispersed all over the vast wood, insomuch that there is not a garden but has a fine quick stream running through it, which serves not only for watering the place, but is also improved into fountains and other waterworks very delightful, though not contrived with that variety of exquisite art which is used in Christendom.

Barrady, being thus described, is almost wholly drunk up by the city and gardens. What small part of it escapes is united, as I was informed, in one channel again, on the south-east side of the city; and, after about three or four hours' course, finally loses itself in a bog there without ever arriving at the sea.

The Greeks, and, from them, the Romans, call this river Chrysorrhoas; but as for Abana and Pharpar, rivers of Damascus, mentioned in 2 Kings, v. 12, I could find no memory so much as of the names remaining. They must doubtless have been only two branches of the river Barrady; and one of them was probably the same stream that now runs through the Ager Damascenus, directly to the city, which seems, by its serpentine way, to be a natural channel. The other I know not well where to find; but it is no wonder, seeing they may and do turn and alter the courses of this river according to their own convenience and pleasure.

We continued a good while upon the precipice to take a view of the city; and indeed it is a hard matter to leave a station which presents you so charming a landscape. It exhibits the paradise below as a most fair and delectable place, and yet will hardly suffer you to stir away to go to it; thus at once inviting you to the city by the pleasure which it seems to promise, and detaining you from it by the beauty of the prospect.

Coming down the hill into the plain, we were there met by a janissary from the convent, sent to conduct us into the city. He did not think fit to carry us in at the west gate (which was nearest at hand), and so all across the city to the Latin convent where we were to lodge, for fear the Damascenes, who are a very bigoted and insolent race, should be offended at so great a number of Franks as we were; to avoid which danger he led us round about the gardens before we arrived at the gate. The garden walls are of a very singular structure. They are built of great pieces of earth, made in the fashion of brick and hardened in the sun. In their dimensions they are each two yards long, and somewhat more than one broad, and half a yard thick. Two rows of these, placed edgewise one upon another, make a cheap, expeditious, and, in this dry country, a durable wall.

In passing between the gardens we also observed their method of scouring the channels. They put a great bough of a tree in the water, and fasten to it a yoke of oxen. Upon the bough there sits a good weighty fellow, to press it down to the bottom and to drive the oxen. In this equipage the bough is dragged all along the channel, and serves at once both to cleanse the bottom, and also to mud and fatten the water for the greater benefit of the gardens.

Entering at the east gate, we went immediately to the convent, and were very courteously received by the guardian, father Raphael, a Majorkine by birth, and a person who, though he has dedicated himself to the contemplative life, yet is not unfit for any affairs of the active.

April 28.—This morning we walked out to take a view of the city. The first place we went to visit was the house of an eminent Turk. The streets here are narrow, as is usual in hot countries, and the houses are all built, on the outside, of no better a material than either sun-burnt brick or Flemish wall, daubed over in as coarse a manner as can be seen in the vilest cottages. From this dirty way of building they have this amongst other inconveniences, that upon any violent rain the whole city becomes, by the washing of the houses, as it were a quagmire.

It may be wondered what should induce the people to build in this base manner when they have, in the adjacent mountains, such plenty of good stone for noble fabrics. I can give no reason for it, unless this may pass for such, that those who first planted here, finding so delicious a situation, were in haste to come to the enjoyment of it; and therefore nimbly set up those extemporary habitations, being unwilling to defer their pleasures so long as whilst they might erect more magnificent structures, which primitive example their successors have followed ever since.

But, however, in these mud walls you find the gates and doors adorned with marble portals, carved and inlaid with great beauty and variety. It is an object not a little surprising to see mud and marble, state and sordidness, so mingled together.

In the inside the houses discover a very different face from what you see without. Here you find generally a large square court, beautified with a variety of fragrant trees and marble fountains, and compassed round with splendid apartments and divans. The divans are floored and adorned on the sides with variety of marble, mixed in mosaic knots and mazes. The ceilings and traves are, after the Turkish manner, richly painted and gilded. They have generally artificial fountains springing up before them in marble basins; and, as for carpets and cushions, are furnished out to the height of luxury. Of these divans they have generally several on all sides of the court, being placed at such different points that, at one or other of them, you may always have either the shade or the sun, which you please.

Such as I have described was the house we went to see; and I was told the rest resemble the same description.

In the next place we went to see the church of St. John the Baptist, now converted into a mosque, and held too sacred for Christians to enter, or almost to look into. However we had three short views of it, looking in at three several gates. Its gates are vastly large, and covered with brass, stamped all over with Arab characters, and in several places with the figure of a chalice, supposed to be the ancient ensigns or arms of the Mamelukes. On the north side of the church is a spacious court, which I could not conjecture to be less than one hundred and fifty yards long and eighty or one hundred broad. The court is paved all over, and inclosed on the south side by the church, on the other three sides by a double cloister, supported by two rows of granite pillars of the Corinthian order, exceedingly lofty and beautiful.

On the south side the church joins to the bazaars; and there we had an opportunity just to peep into it. It is, within, spacious and lofty, built with three aisles, between which are rows of polished pillars of surpassing beauty, unless, perhaps, we were tempted to overvalue what was so sparingly permitted to our survey.

In this church are kept the head of St. John, and some other relics esteemed so holy that it is death even for a Turk to presume to go into the room where they are kept. We are told here, by a Turk of good fashion, that Christ was to descend into this mosque at the day of judgment, as Mohammed was to do into that of Jerusalem; but the ground and reason of this tradition I could not learn.

From the church we went to the castle, which stands about two furlongs distant towards the west. It is a good building of the rustic manner. In length it is three hundred and forty paces, and in breadth somewhat less. We were admitted but just within the gate, where we saw store of ancient arms and armour, the spoils of the Christians in former times. Amongst the artillery was an old Roman balista; but this was a place not long to be gazed upon by such as we were. At the east end of the castle there hangs down, in the middle of the wall, a short chain cut in stone, of what use I know not, unless to boast the skill of the artificer.

Leaving this place, we went to view the bazaars, which we found crowded with people, but destitute of any thing else worth observing.

April 29.—Very early this morning we went to see the yearly great pomp of the hadgees setting out on their pilgrimage to Mecca[626], Ustan, pasha of Tripoli, being appointed their emir or conductor for this year. For our better security from the insolences of the over-zealous votaries, we hired a shop in one of the bazaars through which they were to pass.

In this famous cavalcade there came, first, forty-six dellees, that is religious madmen, carrying each a silk streamer, mixed either of red and green, or of yellow and green; after these came three troops of segmen, an order of soldiers amongst the Turks; and next to them some troops of saphees, another order of soldiery. These were followed by eight companies of Mugrubines (so the Turks call the Barbaroses) on foot. These were fellows of a very formidable aspect, and were designed to be left in a garrison, maintained by the Turks somewhere in the desert of Arabia, and relieved every year with fresh men. In the midst of the Mugrubines there passed six small pieces of ordnance. In the next place came, on foot, the soldiers of the castle of Damascus, fantastically armed with coats of mail, gauntlets, and other pieces of old armour. These were followed by two troops of janissaries and their aga, all mounted. Next were brought the pasha's two horse tails, ushered by the aga of the court; and next after the tails followed six led horses, all of excellent shape and nobly furnished. Over the saddle there was a girth upon each led horse, and a large silver target gilded with gold. After these horses came the mahmal. This is a large pavilion of black silk, pitched upon the back of a very great camel, and spreading its curtains all round about the beast down to the ground. The pavilion is adorned at top with a gold ball, and with gold fringes round about. The camel that carries it wants not also his ornaments of large ropes of beads, fish-shells, fox-tails, and other such fantastical finery, hanged upon his head, neck, and legs. All this is designed for the state of the Alcoran, which is placed with great reverence under the pavilion, where it rides in state both to and from Mecca. The Alcoran is accompanied with a rich new carpet, which the Grand Signor sends every year for the covering of Mohammed's tomb, having the old one brought back in return for it, which is esteemed of an inestimable value after having been so long next neighbour to the prophet's rotten bones. The beast which carries this sacred load has the privilege to be exempted from all other burdens ever after. After the mahmal came another troop, and with them the pasha himself; and, last of all, twenty loaded camels, with which the train ended, having been three quarters of an hour in passing.

Having observed what we could of this show, which perhaps was never seen by Franks before, we went to view some other curiosities. The first place we came to was the Ager Damascenus, a long, beautiful meadow, just without the city on the west side. It is divided in the middle by that branch of the river Barrady which supplies the city, and is taken notice of because of a tradition current here that Adam was made of the earth of this field.

Adjoining the Ager Damascenus is a large hospital. It has within it a pleasant square court, inclosed on the south side by a stately mosque, and on its other sides by cloisters and lodgings of no contemptible structure.

Returning from hence homeward, we were shown, by the way, a very beautiful bagnio; and not far from it a coffee house capable of entertaining four or five hundred people, shaded over head with trees, and with mats when the boughs fail. It had two quarters for the reception of guests, one proper for the summer, the other for the winter. That designed for the summer was a small island, washed all round with a large, swift stream, and shaded over head with mats and trees. We found here a multitude of Turks upon the divans, regaling themselves in this pleasant place, there being nothing which they behold with so much delight as greens and water, to which, if a beautiful face be added, they have a proverb that all three together make a perfect antidote against melancholy.

In the afternoon we went to visit the house which, they say, was some time the house of Ananias, the restorer of sight to St. Paul[627]. The place shown for it is, according to the old rule, a small grotto or cellar, affording nothing remarkable but only that there are in it a Christian altar and a Turkish praying place, seated nearer to each other than well agrees with the nature of such places.

Our next walk was out of the east gate, in order to see the place (they say) of St. Paul's vision, and what else is observable on that side. The place of the vision is about half a mile distant from the city eastward. It is close by the wayside, and has no building to distinguish it, nor do I believe it ever had; only there is a small rock or heap of gravel which serves to point out the place.

About two furlongs nearer the city is a small timber structure, resembling the cage of a country borough. Within it is an altar erected. There, you are told, the holy apostle rested for some time in his way to this city after his vision[628].

Being returned to the city, we were shown the gate at which St. Paul was let down in a basket[629]. This gate is at present walled up by reason of its vicinity to the east gate, which renders it of little use.

Entering again into the city, we went to see the great patriarch residing in this city. He was a person of about forty years of age. The place of his residence was mean, and his person and converse promised not any thing extraordinary. He told me there were more than one thousand two hundred souls of the Greek communion in that city.

April 30.—The next day we went to visit the gardens, and to spend a day there. The place where we disposed of ourselves was about a mile out of town. It afforded us a very pleasant summer-house, having a plentiful stream of water running through it. The garden was thick-set with fruit trees, but without any art or order. Such as this are all the gardens hereabouts; only with this odds, that some of them have their summer-houses more splendid than others, and their waters improved into greater variety of fountains. In visiting these gardens, Franks are obliged either to walk on foot, or else to ride upon asses, the insolence of the Turks not allowing them to mount on horseback. To serve them upon these occasions here are hackney asses always standing ready equipped for hire. When you are mounted, the master of the ass follows his beast to the place where you are disposed to go, goading him up behind with a sharp-pointed stick, which makes him despatch his stage with great expedition. It is apt sometimes to give a little disgust to the generous traveller to be forced to submit to such marks of scorn; but there is no remedy; and, if the traveller will take my advice, his best way will be to mount his ass contentedly and to turn the affront into a motive of recreation, as we did. Having spent the day in the garden, we returned in the evening to the convent.

May 1.—The next day we spent at another garden, not far distant from the former, but far exceeding it in the beauty of its summer-house and the variety of its fountains.

Sunday, May 2.—We went, as many of us as were disposed, to Sydonaiia, a Greek convent about four hours distant from Damascus to the northward, or north by east. The road, excepting only two steep ascents, is very good. In this stage we passed by two villages, the first called Tall, the second Meneen. At a good distance on the right hand is a very high hill, reported to be the same on which Cain and Abel offered their sacrifices, and where also the former slew his brother, setting the first example of bloodshed to the world.

Sydonaiia is situated at the farther side of a large vale, on the top of a rock. The rock is cut with steps all up, without which it would be inaccessible. It is fenced all round at the top, with a strong wall, which incloses the convent. It is a place of very mean structure, and contains nothing in it extraordinary, but only the wine made here, which is indeed most excellent. This place was at first founded and endowed by the emperor Justinian. It is at present possessed by twenty Greek monks and forty nuns, who seem to live promiscuously together, without any order or separation.

Here are upon this rock, and within a little compass round about it, no less than sixteen churches and oratories, dedicated to several names. The first, to St. John; second, to St. Paul; third, to St. Thomas; fourth, to St. Babylas; fifth, to St. Barbara; sixth, to St. Christopher; seventh, to St. Joseph; eighth, to St. Lazarus; ninth, to the blessed Virgin; tenth, to St. Demetrius; eleventh, to St. Saba; twelfth, to St. Peter; thirteenth, to St. George; fourteenth, to All Saints; fifteenth, to the Ascension; sixteenth, to the Transfiguration of our Lord; from all which, we may well conclude this place was held anciently in no small repute for sanctity. Many of these churches I actually visited, but found them so ruined and desolate, that I had not courage to go to all.

In the chapel made use of by the convent for their daily services, they pretend to show a great miracle, done here some years since, of which take this account, as I received it from them. They had once in the church a little picture of the blessed Virgin, very much resorted to by supplicants, and famous for the many cures and blessings granted in return to their prayers. It happened that a certain sacrilegious rogue took an opportunity to steal away this miraculous picture; but he had not kept it long in his custody, when he found it metamorphosed into a real body of flesh. Being struck with wonder and remorse at so prodigious an event, he carried back the prize to its true owners, confessing and imploring forgiveness for his crime. The monks having recovered so great a jewel, and being willing to prevent such another disaster for the future, thought fit to deposit it in a small chest of stone, and placing it in a little cavity in the wall behind the high altar, fixed an iron gate before it, in order to secure it from any fraudulent attempts for the future. Upon the gates there are hanged abundance of little toys and trinkets, being the offerings of many votaries in return for the success given to their prayers at this shrine. Under the same chest in which the incarnate picture was deposited they always place a small silver basin, in order to receive the distillation of a holy oil, which they pretend issues out from the inclosed image, and does wonderful cures in many distempers, especially those affecting the eyes.

On the east side of the rock is an ancient sepulchre hollowed in the firm stone. The room is about eight yards square, and contains in its sides (as I remember) twelve chests for corpses. Over the entrance there are carved six statues as big as the life, standing in three niches, two in each niche. At the pedestals of the statues may be observed a few Greek words, which, as far as I was able to discern them in their present obscurity, are as follows:—

ΕΤΟΥϹΙΦ—Ι[ΟΥ]Λ.ΦΙ[ΛΙΙΟΥΛ . ΔΗΜΗ

ΙΟΥΛ . ΑΡΤΕΠ] ΠΙΚΟΣΤΡΙΟΣ ΚΑ[Ι]Α[ΡΙ]

ΩΙΔΙΡΟΣ ΚΑΙ[Κ]ΑΙ ΔΟΜΝϹΙΝΑΑΔΝΗ ΓΥ[ΝΗ]

ΠΡΕΙΓΚΥ ΓΥΝΗ ΓΥΝΗΠΑΝΤΑΣ ΕΠΟΙΟΥ [Ν]

Under the first niche.Under the second.Under the third.

A gentleman in our company, and myself, have reason to remember this place, for an escape we had in it. A drunken janissary, passing under the window where we were, chanced to have a drop of wine thrown out upon his vest, upon which innocent provocation he presented his pistol at us in at the window; had it gone off, it must have been fatal to one or both of us, who sat next the place. But it pleased God to restrain his fury. This evening we returned again to Damascus.

May 3.—This morning we went to see the street called Straight[630]. It is about half a mile in length, running from east to west through the city. It being narrow, and the houses jutting out in several places on both sides, you cannot have a clear prospect of its length and straightness. In this street is shown the house of Judas, with whom St. Paul lodged; and in the same house is an old tomb, said to be Ananias's, but how he should come to be buried here they could not tell us, nor could we guess; his own house being shown us in another place. However, the Turks have a reverence for his tomb, and maintain a lamp always burning over it.

In the afternoon, having presented the convent with ten per man for our kind reception, we took our leaves of Damascus, and shaped our course for Tripoli; designing in the way to see Balbec, and the cedars of Libanus. In order to this, we returned the same way by which we came, and, crossing the river Barrady again at the bridge of Dummar, came to a village of the same name a little farther, and there lodged this night. We travelled this afternoon three hours.

May 4.—This morning we left our old road, and took another more northerly. In an hour and a half we came to a small village called Sinie; just by which is an ancient structure on the top of a high hill, supposed to be the tomb of Abel, and to have given the adjacent country in old times the name of Abilene. The fratricide also is said by some to have been committed in this place. The tomb is thirty yards long, and yet it is here believed to have been but just proportioned to the stature of him who was buried in it. Here we entered into a narrow gut, between two steep rocky mountains, the river Barrady running at the bottom. On the other side of the river were several tall pillars, which excited our curiosity to go and take a nearer view of them. We found them part of the front of some ancient and very magnificent edifice, but of what kind we could not conjecture.

We continued upon the banks of Barrady, and came in three hours to a village called Maday; and in two hours more to a fountain called Ain-il-Hawra, where we lodged. Our whole stage was somewhat less than seven hours; our course nearly north-west.

May 5.—This morning we passed by the fountain of Barrady, and came in an hour and two-thirds to a village called Surgawich. At this place we left the narrow valley, in which we had travelled ever since the morning before, and ascended the mountain on the left hand. Having spent in crossing it two hours, we arrived a second time in the valley of Bocat; here, steering northerly, directly up the valley, we arrived in three hours at Balbec. Our stage this day was near seven hours, and our course near about west.

At Balbec we pitched at a place less than half a mile distant from the town, eastward, near a plentiful and delicious fountain, which grows immediately into a brook; and running down to Balbec, adds no small pleasure and convenience to the place.

In the afternoon we walked out to see the city. But we thought fit before we entered to get licence of the governor, and to proceed with all caution; being taught this necessary care by the example of some worthy English gentlemen of our factory, who, visiting this place in the year 1689, in their return from Jerusalem, and suspecting no mischief, were basely intrigued by the people here, and forced to redeem their lives at a great sum of money.

Balbec is supposed to be the ancient Heliopolis, or City of the Sun; for that the word imports. Its present Arab, which is perhaps its most ancient name, inclines to the same importance. For Baal, though it imports all idols in general, of whatsoever sex or condition, yet it is very often appropriated to the sun, the sovereign idol of this country.

The city enjoys a most delightful and commodious situation, on the east side of the valley of Bocat. It is of a square figure, compassed with a tolerable good wall, in which are towers all round at equal distances. It extends, as far as I could guess by the eye, about two furlongs on a side. Its houses within are all of the meanest structure, such as are usually seen in Turkish villages.

At the south-west side of this city is a noble ruin, being the only curiosity for which this place is wont to be visited. It was anciently a heathen temple, together with some other edifices belonging to it, all truly magnificent; but in latter times these ancient structures have been patched and pieced up with several other buildings, converting the whole into a castle, under which name it goes at this day. The adjectitious buildings are of no mean architecture, but yet easily distinguishable from what is more ancient.

Coming near these ruins, the first thing you meet with is a little round pile of building, all of marble. It is encircled with columns of the Corinthian order, very beautiful, which support a cornice that runs all round the structure, of no ordinary state and beauty. The part of it that remains is at present in a very tottering condition, but yet the Greeks use it for a church; and it were well if the danger of its falling, which perpetually threatens, would excite those people to use a little more fervour in their prayers than they generally do, the Greeks being, seemingly, the most undevout and negligent at their divine service of any sort of people in the Christian world.

From this ruin you come to a large firm pile of building, which, though very lofty and composed of huge square stones, yet, I take to be part of the adjectitious work; for one sees in the inside some fragments of images in the walls and stones, with Roman letters upon them, set the wrong way. In one stone we found graven DIVIS, and in another line, MOSC. Through this pile, you pass in a stately arched walk or portico, one hundred and fifty paces long, which leads you to the temple.

The temple is an oblong square, in breadth thirty-two yards, and in length sixty-four, of which eighteen were taken up by the πρόναος or ante-temple, which is now tumbled down, the pillars being broke that sustained it. The body of the temple, which now stands, is encompassed with a noble portico, supported by pillars of the Corinthian order, measuring six feet and three inches in diameter, and about forty-five feet in height, consisting all of three stones apiece. The distance of the pillars from each other, and from the wall of the temple, is nine feet. Of these pillars there are fourteen on each side of the temple, and eight at the end, counting the corner pillars in both numbers.