Convent of Mar Sâba.—In the wild grandeur of its situation Mar Sâba is the most extraordinary building in Palestine. Just at the place where it stands, a small side ravine tumbles down into the Kidron, and the buildings cover both sides of the former, and the projecting cliff between the two, the irregular masses of walls, towers, chambers, and chapels, here perched upon narrow rock terraces, and there clinging to the sides of precipices. The ch., an edifice with enormous buttresses, a large dome and small clock-turret, occupies the very point of the rock, and the other buildings are so dispersed along the whole side from the summit to the bottom of the ravine, that it is almost impossible to tell how much is masonry, and how much nature. Within, the same difficulty is felt, for everywhere advantage has been taken of natural caves and artificial ones hewn out in bygone ages by the pious industry of monks and an front of these simple facades have been built,or miniature cells constructed, while steep flights of stairs, and long narrow galleries, forming a labyrinth which none but the inhabitants can thread, connect the whole. The tout ensemble is picturesque and singularly wild, especially when we view it in the pale moonlight, when the projecting cliffs and towers are tinged with the silver light, while the intervening spaces and the deep chasm below are shrouded in gloom. Never did the taste of anchorite select a spot better adapted for gloomy devotion and useless solitude than the glen of Mar Sâba.

After skirting the cliff by the excavated path, we descend by a broad paved staircase to a little platform. In front is the massive wall, pierced by a small portal, with an iron door strong enough for the Bank of England. Here a parley must be held with the garrison, who take a peep at us from a loophole overhead. The letter of introduction is delivered, read, and, if found in order, the exact number specified in it obtain admission. I have already said that, like the hermit’s cell of Irish story, no female foot is ever permitted to cross the threshold. The monks are too holy to be hospitable, as Miss Martineau wickedly remarks. There is, indeed, an airy tower without the walls, on the very summit of the cliff, which ladies may occupy, if they prefer it to a tent pitched in the little glen above the portal. It is two stories high, with a heavy grated door some 20 feet up its side. Here the adventurous Madame Pfeiffer, of “Round the World” celebrity, spent a night in utter solitude; and I question if, in all her wanderings, she ever looked out upon a scene of sterner desolation than that then before her.

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The subsequent history of the convent is, like that of most of this land, stained with blood. It was plundered by the Persians in the 7th centy., and 44 of the monks murdered. It passed through all the vicissitudes of the other Holy Places during the fierce struggles between the Crescent and the Cross; and the wild Bedawin still hover round its walls, ready to pounce, at any unguarded moment, upon its hoarded treasures. It is said to be one of the richest convents in Palestine, and this is not a very safe reputation in such a country; but its strong walls, and still stronger position, aided by the rigorous precautions of the monks in never permitting a Bedawy to cross the threshold, have long kept it safe from the wild desert hordes. There is a little tribe scattered among the surrounding glens, too, who reccive the title of Ghufir, or “protectors,” like some of the Tawarah Arabs of Mount Sinai; they get presents in food and clothing from the monks, and enjoy the monopoly of conveying them and their supplies from Jerusalem.

Among the remarkable sights of the convent, exhibited, of course, to every traveller who desires to see them, are—the Tomb of St. Sabas in a small neat chapel; another chapel, fitted up with stalls, and containing the charnel-house, wherein are the piled-up-bones of martyred saints innumerable; the cells once occupied by John of Damascus, Cyril the biographer of Sabas, Euthymius, and others of less note; and last, but not least, the original grot, the germ of the whole establishment, in which Sabas spent many years of his life. It is only distinguished from others around it by greater rudeness, and less appearance of adaptation to the wants of a human being. There is a curious tradition attached to it, which the reverend cicerone will not fail to relate. The cave, it seems, was originally a lion’s den, and was in actual occupation of the monarch of the wilderness when St. Sabas first visited the place with the pious design of founding a religious house. The saint was satisfied that the grotto would serve as headuarters, and he politely hinted to its master that it would be necessary for him to evacuate the premises. The animal quietly took the hint, and left his lair to its higher destiny! Another curiosity is shown in the convent—a palm-tree, still flourishing, said to have been planted by St. Sabas.

Mar Saba is the property of the Greek Church, and the poor monks, in addition to their solitude, live under a very severe rule, never eating flesh, and mortifying all feelings of Christian compassion, as the angry Miss Martineau again observes, by never admitting any woman within their gates, under any stress of weather or other accident. Visitors will perhaps be able to see for themselves that the monks do not abstain so rigorously from strong drinks as they do from strong meats. Their weary lives are often solaced by little glasses of raki, and enlivened, too, by watching and feeding a flock of gay, cheerful_birds—something like the English blackbird, but with yellow wings, — which flutter among the orange-trees, and nestle in the surrounding cliffs, occasionally filling the glen with their sweet notes. There was, and probably is still, a good library here, containing some rare manuscripts of ancient date. These are particularly mentioned by a traveller‘of the last century, who says that he used to go very often to the convent, and stay a week examining the biographies of hermits and fathers of the Church, together with their works. He mentions especially the life and writings of St. John of Damascus. The library was visited by the Hon. Mr. Curzon about 20 yrs. ago; but during my short stay at the convent a few months ago I was unable to obtain access to it.