Morning view of the city. Glance at the localities. Question with regard to the place of the Crucifixion. Its practical nature. Scene usually sketched in the mind. The event probably more humiliating in its attendant circumstances. Traditions forced upon the visitor to Jerusalem. Their effect on the mind. Danger of such visits to those who will not separate truth from error. “El Devoto Peregrino.” Dr. Clarke.

I arose early on the morning of the 16th; the sun was shining bright, and the atmosphere had a freshness and a balminess quite exhilarating. Having made a hasty toilet, I placed a ladder against our range of cells, and climbing to the flat roof, by which they were covered, gazed around; and now, for the first time, felt that I was really in Jerusalem.

Immediately east of the city, and separated from it by a narrow valley or ravine, was a mountain large enough to command our respect by its vastness, and yet not too large for gracefulness and beauty. I knew it at once to be the Mount of Olives. It has three summits, one in the centre and one at each extremity; they are of nearly equal height, and when viewed from the city present for their outline a gentle and beautiful curve. A large part of it is covered with olive trees, particularly the central and northern summits and declivities; and they still form so striking a feature, that if the mountain were now to be named, we should be apt to call it the Mount of Olives.

Nearer to me, and just within the city walls, on the east, was a large open place, and from the centre of this rose an octangular edifice of considerable beauty; I had seen pictures of it, and recognized it as the mosque of Omar, standing on the supposed site of the Temple of Solomon. There at least was undoubtedly Mount Moriah, and my own eyes were gazing upon it.

I turned from it soon, however, to look for a spot of still more absorbing interest. Where was Mount Calvary? Not far from me rose two domes, one somewhat peaked, the other one more obtuse, but very large. In all directions, however, were domes of various sizes, and the mind was puzzled, though still arrested by the position as well as the magnitude of these two. A couple of old and venerable looking monks were hanging over the parapet of a neighboring convent watching my motions, and turning to inquire of them, I found my surmise had been correct. This was the church of Mount Calvary and of the Holy Sepulchre.—“Put off thy shoes from off thy feet, for the place whereon thou standest is holy ground.”—“At least,” a voice seemed to say to me, “walk here with seriousness and humility; bow thy head, and cleanse thy heart, and tread with meekness the ground trod by Him who was here humbled for thee, and here bore thy sins upon the cross.” It was the Sabbath also—this first day of our visit; and the quiet and healthful influence of that holy season was added to the power which Jerusalem would at any time have exercised upon the heart.

I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ. Imagination in its highest flights has not pictured a scene that will compare in interest, or in deep and searching pathos, with the reality here displayed in the redemption of man. It partakes of the character of all the works of God, combining a simplicity that opens it to the comprehension of all men, with a grandeur and sublimity that must excite the admiration of the highest seraphim. I have seen it where I have seen man’s proud philosophy quail and shrink into nothingness—in the sick room and by the dying bed; I have seen it come gently and quietly, and open the feeble lips in praise, and in utterance of joyful and triumphant hope. I have seen it sustain and cheer those whom the world, and the world’s enjoyments and earthly hopes too, had all deserted, and who would otherwise have been left in maddening solitude and wretchedness; I have seen it sustain them; and while the body was tortured with pains, I have seen it raise the mind superior to bodily feeling, and while the cold sweat was breaking out upon the brow, keep that brow calm and serene. The tortured child of clay thought of his Saviour’s humiliation and pains, and of the glory wrought out for him; and, in the boundless love that led to the sufferings of Calvary, found assurance that God was even now a friend closer than a brother, and would not desert him to the last. “I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ crucified, for it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth;”—and the highest honor of my life was on that day, when I was permitted to walk amid scenes dignified and exalted by the great events of our redemption.

It was, indeed, a day of concentrated interest and gratification, such as I had never experienced before, and do not expect ever to feel again. After breakfast our large Company broke up into smaller parties, and proceeded to visit the various localities. In company with Lieutenant F. I walked over to Mr. Nicholayson’s, and, under the guidance of that gentleman, we went, with the Commodore and family, first to the church of Mount Calvary and of the Holy Sepulchre.

But is this church really on the site of the crucifixion, and of the sepulture of our Saviour? This is a question which it may be well to settle before proceeding further, so that we may know with what feelings to approach spots of such sacred and interesting titles. It is a subject on which my own mind is satisfied almost beyond a doubt, and if the reader will for a short time give me patient attention, in a somewhat dry and difficult examination of facts, I think he may find himself rewarded for his labor. It is true that the question with regard to the exact locality of these events is of little consequence, compared with the great subject of the redemption itself, and the query whether we have, by a living faith, made that salvation ours; but still it is one not without its practical consequences. The mind often tries to picture the scene of the Saviour’s sufferings, the uplifted bloody cross, the hours of agony, the tumultuous crowds of scoffers below; and our feelings are touched, and the heart is benefitted, by contemplating the price that was paid for our salvation, the obligations under which we are placed by it, and the assurance it gives us of the surpassing love of Him who spared not his own Son, but gave him freely for us; the whole scene is often one of pious thought and of pulpit description, and has frequently enlisted the skill of painters, and is a matter of practical interest. My impression is, that the scene we sketch is very seldom correct, and that the event itself had a depth of humiliation that our thoughts do not reach; and in this I do not have reference to the condescension of the sufferer, but to circumstances connected with the locality of the suffering. Our thoughts, when they turn to this subject, I believe place before us an eminence of considerable elevation, sloping gradually upward, and crowned at the summit by the crosses of our Saviour and the malefactors, while the slopes are all crowded with the excited spectators. This, I believe, is the picture that is generally presented to our mind; and there is in it a degree of physical dignity, that the event itself, I am inclined to think, did not possess. On the other hand, if my apprehensions are correct, the crucifixion was attended with every physical circumstance that could make it humbling as well as painful; instead of being on the summit of a lofty eminence, it was on a rocky knoll at the bottom of a natural theatre of hills; on one side, at the distance of five hundred feet, was the city wall; on another, the low and wretched suburb of a suburb; it was in an open place, with dusty roads to various parts of the city passing near it; a thoroughfare, in short, where the spectacle of dust and confusion was broken only by a few gardens, the remains of a larger range of such enclosures, now nearly destroyed by the encroaching suburb.

Such is the scene which the result of my investigations, commenced there, and followed up since my return, places before me. I examined the ground in and about the city as carefully as my time would allow, and with the aid of Josephus, have constructed a map, which is here offered to the examination of the reader. In my younger days, I used to take great interest in maps of Jerusalem, till, finding that each differed from every other one, and that they were filled with the localities of public buildings, some of them evidently placed at random, I lost in a measure my confidence in all the plans, and as they furnished me with no means of judging for myself, I gave them up in despair; and this is probably the case with many other persons.

In this map I have laid down nothing for which we have not authority, and I have in every part quoted the authorities; so that, if the reader chooses, he can examine and form an opinion for himself. He will find that I have been guided chiefly by Josephus, whose descriptions of the ancient city are, undoubtedly, by far the most correct as well as the most minute that we possess.[15] If I have not rightly understood them, it has not been from the want of study. I have read him carefully, and compared one part with another, and have seized on every allusion to localities, and have again and again studied and compared, and did not stop till I had a map that would correspond to all such descriptions and allusions. He is, I think, deserving of our confidence; for he spent much time in and about the ancient city; his duties as an officer in Titus’ army led him to examine, and as far as possible to get the admeasurements of its walls and towers; he must at this time have been preparing for his work on the Jewish nation, and probably made his records on the ground; and with a little allowance for the pride and prejudices of a Jew, as regards his country, seems to be a fair and candid narrator of events, a large part of which fell under his own observation. In some places he is obscure, and at times appears to contradict himself; but a little study will enable us to understand and reconcile most of these passages; in many parts, particularly in scenes of pathos, there is a simplicity and yet a force, in his descriptions, that are really admirable.

In the map[16] just spoken of, I have sketched also the line of the present city walls, as I found it could be done without producing confusion, and I thought the reader would like to be able to see how much of the ground of the ancient city is occupied by the modern Jerusalem.

The traveller to the present city, at least the Protestant traveller, is excessively annoyed at every step with traditions in which he cannot believe, and with having localities pointed out in which he can place no confidence whatever; and the effect is bad in a great many ways. It not only disturbs sadly the feelings with which he would wish to walk over the grounds of Jerusalem, but, sickened and disgusted, he is apt to run into the opposite extreme of incredulity, and reject even where there is proper grounds for belief. I have now before me large extracts which I made from a book called El Devoto Peregrino, or “The Devout Pilgrim,” published at Madrid in 1654, by P. F. Antonio of Castile, Commissary General of Jerusalem for Spain, and Guardian of Bethlehem,[17] in the last of which places he had spent a number of years. It offers a good specimen of the accounts of places that are thrust on the visitor to Jerusalem, and as it is a book of high authority, I will by and by give some of the extracts at length. In this work he points out edifices, at present standing, and which it must be evident are comparatively modern structures, as the houses of Pilate, of Simon the Pharisee, where Mary Magdalene washed our Saviour’s feet with her tears, of St. Ann, of the Rich Man, &c. &c.; and this in the face of authentic history, which informs us that the city, when taken by Titus, was, with the exception of a few towers, levelled with the ground, and that a ploughshare was made to pass over it. There is scarcely an event of any description, mentioned in the New Testament as occurring in or about Jerusalem, of which they do not designate the exact locality; and to all this they have added traditions so absurd as to be beyond all belief, to say nothing of their childishness. All this is repeated to the visitor to Jerusalem, and produce a revulsion of feeling not only disagreeable but dangerous; and men whose faith is not previously settled, or who do not like the trouble of sifting the truth from error, I believe would be apt to be injured by such a visit. And it appears to me that most Protestant visitors, and our missionaries also, have been betrayed by these feelings into an excess of scepticism, which has led them to reject some things against sound and proper evidence. We must not reject all because some is false, any more than we would reject all species of coin because some is spurious; a wise man will be led by the fact that there is spurious money, to believe that there is good money some where; and therefore, these tales, instead of provoking utter scepticism, while they make us cautious, should at the same time lead us to suppose that there is ground for belief.

Dr. Clark is the boldest of these modern sceptics; for while others simply doubt, he goes further, and with a feeling bordering certainly on rashness, attempts at once to designate other sites for these distinguished events. His boldness is not more surprising than is the small amount of evidence he produces for his localities; and I believe he has had scarcely a single follower, among either readers at home, or travellers to these interesting spots. As he stands quite alone, the subject of wonder rather than of credence, we will not stop to examine his theories; but proceed to notice the old belief, and the doubts of more cautious and moderate men.