March 2nd.
Either from association of ideas, or from the barking of dogs, the wailing of jackals, and the tinkling of bells, my head has been crowded with visions of shepherds, and flocks, and wild beasts, and wild Arabs, all night long.
Morning
Then, ere it was fully light, the reality was before me, and I have been out watching an Oriental village wake into life as the morning comes on. There were some astir long before the dawn, loading donkeys and camels, and setting off as if going to market. Then came plowmen, goad in hand, and plow and yoke on the shoulder, driving their tiny oxen afield. Later still, women and girls descended to the fountain with their “pitchers” to draw water; and as the sun rose over these dark mountains of Naphtali, the doors were thrown open, and forth from the folds poured thousands of goats, sheep, and young cattle, radiating in all directions, and spreading themselves over the hills in eager haste to crop their fragrant food while the dew lay upon it. The whole scene has been one of entire novelty in my experience.
Here, now, is another, equally novel, perhaps, and quite as agreeable. Salim has placed our breakfast, smoking hot, on this great rock, that the muleteers, while we enjoy it, may strike the tent and prepare for marching. In a few minutes our tabernacle will disappear from its place entirely and forever. It is to this that Hezekiah compares his life in the cutting off of his days:
Shepherds Tents
We may leave the servants to pack up and pursue the regular route over that hill to the northeast on the road to Tibnîn, while we take down that wady Shimaliyeh, and thence northward to the ruins of Em el 'Awamid.
Oil-Presses
In no other place will you find such perfect specimens of ancient oil-mills and presses, in a word, such a complete exhibition of what a large Phoenician agricultural village was. That road which passes over the hill to the south leads up a long ravine to Yathîr, thence into the great wady Aîûn, which it follows for many miles, past the site of Hazor, past Rumeîsh, and Kefr Bûr’îam, and Gish, to Safed and Tiberias. There are many ruins along it; indeed, every village occupies the site of an ancient town. We shall visit some of them on our return.
El Em Awamid
And this is Em el 'Awamîd — the mother of columns — and a curious place it is. But nearly all these pillars are square.
These are the upright posts of the oil-presses. You observe that they stand in pairs about two feet apart, having a deep groove in the inner faces, running from top to bottom.
ILLUSTRATION
In this groove moved the plank on the top of the olive cheeses, forced down by a beam, as a lever, acting against this huge stone which lies on the top of the columns. Here is the stone trough into which the oil ran; and close by are two immense basins, in which the olives were ground to a pulp by the stone wheel that was rolled over them. This basin is nearly eight feet in diameter, and it must have cost no small labor to cut it out of the mountain and bring it to this spot. It is polished perfectly smooth by long use. Here is another basin, smaller and more concave. It may have served to tread the olives with the feet — a process not now used, but to which there is an allusion in Micah 6:1515Thou shalt sow, but thou shalt not reap; thou shalt tread the olives, but thou shalt not anoint thee with oil; and sweet wine, but shalt not drink wine. (Micah 6:15): “Thou shalt tread the olives, but thou shalt not anoint thee with oil.”
Were all these upright and prostrate columns parts of oil-presses?
Most of them. A few seem to have belonged to houses, or were the posts of gateways, but the great majority were presses, and they speak of vast olive-orchards, not a trace of which now remains. When we reflect that these ruins have been broken up, and carried off to the surrounding villages from time immemorial, we may well be astonished at the number which still remain. And here let me inform you, for your guidance among ruins, that it does not follow that every village whose houses are built, in whole or in part, of large old stone, must necessarily be ancient, not even if it should itself be now a ruin. That village to the west of us is almost entirely made of such stone, taken from here, and it is fast falling into decay, though it may not be five hundred years old.
Ravines and Roads
What a wild, broken region spreads up the mountain to the east of us!
Those ravines are different branches of the great wady Jelo, which enters the plain of Tyre nearly opposite the city. Our road lies in the bottom of this branch from the southeast, called wady Habis, and it is time we should descend into it and prosecute our journey; and, when in, we shall not get out for two hours, but must wind about according to its own eccentricities, sometimes between cliffs perpendicular and bare, at others less precipitous, and clothed with beautiful oak woods. Here comes in the road from Kink and high up the face of this rampart on our left is a tomb cut in the rock. He who made it must have been like Edom, ambitions to place his nest as high as the eagle; and yet, saith the Lord, “I will bring thee down from thence” (Jer. 49:1616Thy terribleness hath deceived thee, and the pride of thine heart, O thou that dwellest in the clefts of the rock, that holdest the height of the hill: though thou shouldest make thy nest as high as the eagle, I will bring thee down from thence, saith the Lord. (Jeremiah 49:16)). And, long ages ago, his dust was scattered in this brawling brook, and swept away to the sea of Tyre. Here is an extraordinary growth of cactus, climbing the face of the cliff for many hundred feet, — the only thing of the kind I have seen in Syria. We begin to hear the tinkling of our mule-bells, and now and then the song of the driver comes echoing down between these gigantic cliffs. And there is the sharp crack of Salîm's gun. They are evidently enjoying our romantic valley and this delicious air.
The Partridge
What bird is that whose call rings responsive from side to side?
The red-legged partridge, of which there are countless flocks in these hills and wadies of Naphtali. It is at them that Salim is exercising his skill. Should he succeed we shall have the better dinner, for they are twice as large as our American quail, to which, in other respects, they bear a close resemblance. Hear how they cackle and call to one another directly above our heads. They are very wary, however, and often lead the vexed hunter over many a weary mile of rough mountains before he can get a shot at them.
The emeers and feudal chiefs of the country hunt them with the hawk, and keep up, with great pride, the ancient sport of falconry. The birds are generally brought from Persia and the cold mountains of Armenia, and do not thrive well in this climate. They are of two kinds, a large one for wood-cock and red-legged partridges, and a smaller for the quail.
The Falcon
The Beg at the castle of Tibnîn which we are now approaching, always keeps several of these large falcons on their perches in his grand reception-hall, where they are tended with the utmost care. I have been out on the mountains to see them hunt, and it is a most exciting scene. The emeers sit on their horses holding the birds on their wrists, and the woods are filled with their retainers, beating about and shouting, to start up and drive toward them the poor partridges.
Hunting Partridge
When near enough, the falcon is launched from the hand, and swoops down upon his victim like an eagle halting to the prey. After he has struck his quarry, the falcon flies a short distance, and lights on the ground, amid the redoubled shouts of the sportsmen. The keeper darts forward, secures both, cuts the throat of the partridge, and allows his captor to suck its blood. This is his reward. Notwithstanding the exhilaration of the sport, I could never endure the falcon himself. There is something almost satanic in his eye, and in the ferocity with which he drinks the warm lifeblood of his innocent victim. I once saw some men of Tortosa catching the Syrian quail with a small hawk. This was done on foot, each sportsman carrying his bird on the right wrist, and beating the bushes with a stick held in his left hand. These quails are less than the American; are migratory, coming here in early spring, and passing on to the north. They hide under the bushes, and will not rise on the wing unless forced to do so by a dog, or by the hunter himself. I was surprised to see how quickly and surely the little hawk seized his game. His reward, also, was merely the blood of the bird. I do not know whether or not the Jews in ancient days were acquainted with falconry, but David complains that Saul hunted for his blood as one doth hunt for a partridge in the mountains (Sam. 26:20); and this hunting of the same bird on these mountains, and giving their blood to the hawk, reminds one of the sad complaint of the persecuted son of Jesse.
Hunting the Gazelle
In the neighborhood of Aleppo the smaller falcon is taught to assist the sportsman to capture the gazelle. Neither horse nor greyhound can overtake these fleet creatures on the open desert, and therefore the Arabs have taught the hawk to fasten on their forehead, and blind them by incessant flapping of their wings. Bewildered and terrified, they leap about at random, and are easily captured.
The Bustard
They are also trained to attack the bustard in the same region. This bird is about as large as a turkey, and highly prized by the lovers of game; but as they keep on the vast level plains, where there is nothing to screen the cautious hunter, it is almost impossible to get within gunshot of them. When they rise in the air, the little falcon flies up from beneath and fastens on one of their wings, and then both come whirling over and over to the ground, when the hunter quickly seizes the bustard, and delivers his brave bird from a position not particularly safe or comfortable. They will even bring down the largest eagle in the same way; but in this desperate game they are sometimes torn to pieces by the insulted majesty of the feathered kingdom.
And now we have gained the summit of this long ravine, let me inform you that it is but one of many which cut down, in all directions, from the high plateaus of Naphtali. We shall be obliged to regulate our march in all cases according to their dictation.
TibnîN
Yonder is Tibnîn, crowning the top of a lofty Tell, partly natural and partly artificial. It rises like a huge hay stack at least two hundred feet above all its surroundings. The present buildings are comparatively modern, but it figured in the wars of the Crusaders, by whom it was called Toron. No doubt those mailed champions of the Cross often dashed up Wady Habis in a style very different from our peaceful and pleasant saunter, and on a very different errand, for they had to encounter the victorious squadrons of the terrible Saladin. Toron is not, probably, the most ancient name of this castle.
The Castle
A place so conspicuous, so strong, and so central, must have always been occupied, as it is now, by the family that governed the province around it; and there are not wanting traces of that more ancient castle. The top of the Tell is perforated like a honey-comb with old cisterns; and on the east side are heavy foundations, the stones of which have the Phoenician bevel. They may have been there at the time of Joshua, and Tibnîn probably represents some one of the places given to Naphtali, though what one it is impossible to determine. The Beg informed me that Jezzar Pasha of Acre destroyed this castle, broke down the wall, and filled up the ditch, which ran quite round the Tell. He did the same to Hûnîn, and, indeed, to all the castles in these mountains, and killed or expelled the native chiefs. If the Butcher had done nothing worse, he would have deserved praise rather than censure. After his death, howewer, the feudal lords returned more greedy and tyrannical than ever.
The Governor
The present head of the house of Aly es Sughîr pretends that his ancestors were made governors of Belad Bsharah by the great Saladin himself. This may be fairly doubted, though I do not know when they actually rose to power in the country.
Shall we call on this governor in the castle?
By no means. There would be no getting away until tomorrow. Two years ago I spent the night there with my family, and that will last me all my life. I had no intention of doing such a foolish thing then, but began to pitch the tents in some threshing-floors which overlook the wady on the north of the castle.
Messenger “More Honorable”
The Beg had seen us pass, and despatched a messenger to invite us to his palace. I sent an apology. Then came a deputation “more honorable,” his secretary and a near relative, with a note from the Beg, urging the invitation so earnestly that I felt obliged to comply. This sending honorable princes to press the request reminded me at the time of the way in which Balak overcame the real or pretended reluctance of Balsam. He sent “again princes, more, and more honorable than they; and they ... said to him, Let nothing, I pray thee, hinder thee from coming unto me” (Num. 22:15-1615And Balak sent yet again princes, more, and more honorable than they. 16And they came to Balaam, and said to him, Thus saith Balak the son of Zippor, Let nothing, I pray thee, hinder thee from coming unto me: (Numbers 22:15‑16)). This is a very ancient and very common custom.
Mediators
Everything is done by mediation. Thus the centurion sent unto Jesus elders, beseeching him that he would come and heal his servant (Luke 7:33And when he heard of Jesus, he sent unto him the elders of the Jews, beseeching him that he would come and heal his servant. (Luke 7:3)). In a hundred instances I have been pressed and annoyed by these mediating ambassadors. Their importunity takes no denial. To save ourselves from such a siege, we will keep quite clear of the castle, and go on about half an hour to a well at the bottom of that wady east of us, and there take our lunch. In the meantime, I will give you an account of that visit, as the cheapest way into the interior of a Metāwely governor's palace.
A Divan
The old Beg received me with the utmost politeness — descended from his divan, kissed me on both cheeks, and insisted on my sharing his elevated seat. To the best of my knowledge, it was the first time I ever saw him, but he insisted that he had been at my house in Beirut some fifteen years before, and that I had done him a very important service by speaking a word in his behalf in the right quarter. It may have been so; at any rate, he was as kind as he knew how to be — gave me a Metāwely dinner, and kept me up till late, talking about all sorts of topics before a full divan of his relatives and retainers, and then had my bed spread on the same divan. According to court etiquette at Tibnîn, the ladies of my party had their own apartment, and, after being served with dinner, they called on the great sit, or lady of the Beg, whose apartments were in another section of the castle. It would be tedious to detail all they saw and heard; but they were much pleased with some of the “harem,” who appeared modest, lady-like, and pretty. Others, however, were coarse and ill-bred enough.
A Sleepless Night — Fleas
I was greatly disappointed in the Beg. His conversation was incessant, loud, and often utterly absurd. We fell at last into a rambling and useless discussion about religion, in which Mohammed's character and prophetic claims were handled rudely enough, to the great scandal of the dervishes present; and at midnight I was glad to break up the divan, and try to sleep — no easy task, or, rather, it was impossible. The visitors had filled the divan with fleas, and the wind, which began to blow hard before we left our tents, proved to be one of those siroccos which make all sorts of vermin doubly active and man excessively nervous. The whole night was passed in fruitless skirmishes with these contemptible enemies, and the suffocating wind whistled and piped most doleful tunes through every chink and cranny of the old castle. The ladies had fared even worse than myself, and the morning found us dejected, headachy, and quite discouraged. Having with difficulty achieved a breakfast, in the midst of confusion which reminded me of Scott's Highland stories, we took a guide from the Beg and started for Hunîn, where we expect to get tonight.
Romantic Wadies of Naphtali
I shall never forget the experience of that dismal night, nor the charming ride of that day through these romantic wadies of old Naphtali. We filled our water-bottles at these very wells where we are now quietly taking lunch, and I shall never forget then rode over that hill east of us. Beyond it our guide turned suddenly to the left down a shallow ravine, but one that deepened every moment, until we were completely shut in between lofty walls of gray rock. Deeper and deeper into the bowels of the earth we dived for more than an hour, to where two other wadies joined ours — one from the south, the other from the east. The three in one trend off toward the north, and, under the name of Hajeîr, descend to the Litany at Jisr K'ak'aîyeh. The one from the south passes by an ancient castle called Dubay, about which nothing need be, and very little can be said. We took the eastern ravine, called Hula (from a village at the head of it) — strange, wild, romantic. For miles the path was literally roofed over with a dense canopy of trees and bushes, forming, with the bed of the brook whose windings we had to follow, a sort of tunnel wholly peculiar. We were often obliged to lie flat on the necks of our horses, and be drawn through this verdant vault by main force. At the end of two hours we emerged from this labyrinth, and climbed a steep and lofty hill to the village of Hûla — the same name, nearly, as that of the lake below Hunîn. We intended to rest a while there; but such a mob of rude Metawelies, of every age and sex, beset us, clamorous to see the seigniorât — as they call Frank ladies — that we were compelled to decamp immediately, and, after another hour's pleasant ride, we pitched our tents among the oaks, olives, and terebinths on the western margin of the vale of Hunîn.
And now, lunch over, let us ride, and to the southeast for half an hour, to avoid the wady in which our story has been entangled. We are passing through the very heart of Naphtali, wild and savage, just fitted to be the home of that warlike tribe. No European, and but very few native travelers, ever venture along this desolate road. We shall soon get down to an old guardhouse, called Beer en Nŭkkar, erected for the protection of the traveler through this dangerous district.
Anatha or Beth-Anath
Off yonder to the southwest is 'Ain'ata, supposed to be the Anatha or Beth-Anath given to Naphtali; and half an hour farther south is Bint Jebail — daughter of a little mountain (to translate), and the capital of this region. To the left of us, in the woods, is a ruin with columns, and foundations of old temples, called Kŭbrîkha, and the entire neighborhood is crowded with ancient but deserted sites. A long, rocky ascent eastward now leads us to Neby Mûhaîbeeb — a celebrated saint of the Metawelies — picturesquely perched upon a bold promontory. We pass north of it on the direct road to Mais el Jebel, which is just visible yonder to the northeast of us.
Water-Pools
Let me call your attention to this very unromantic, non-poetic pool. Every village in this region has one or more of them for their herds and flocks. In very dry seasons they entirely fail; and there are frequent allusions to such a calamity in the Bible. It is among the threatened judgments upon unbelieving Israel that the Lord will dry up all their pools (Isa. 43:1515I am the Lord, your Holy One, the creator of Israel, your King. (Isaiah 43:15)).
Do the people drink this composition of nastiness? Many do, and all use this water for culinary and other household purposes. Nothing is more common than to see flocks and herds standing up to their bellies in these pools, and the people filling their jars in the midst of them.
Bad Water
I have been obliged to drink it myself when of the color of soap-suds, full of living animalculae, and with a strong smell of the barnyard. I once gave five piasters to get a jar of good water at this Hunîn where we are to spend the night, was cheated at last, and compelled to drink this abominable decoction. The Jews of all this region must have been supplied with water in the same way. Natural fountains are very rare, nor can wells be dug with success. The ancient inhabitants, however, depended greatly upon cisterns, and there are countless numbers of them about these old sites; but the water, even in these, is filthy and full of vermin, unless great care be taken to keep them clean and sweet. That is quite sufficient on this topic. There seems to be a castle here. Has the place any historic name?
Not that I know of. The castle, at least in its present form, is comparatively modern. There are traces, however, of genuine antiquity about this Mais, and I doubt not there was once a Jewish town here. But we must pass on to our camp-ground at Hunîn, which is still an hour and a half to the northeast of us.
How charming these hills, clothed with evergreen oaks, terebinth, and bay trees!
Beauty of the Hills
This may be my twentieth visit, and yet they appear as lovely now as on the day I first saw them. Such beauty never wearies the eye — always rejoices the heart. Let the muleteers go on and pitch the tent, while we turn up to this ruin on our right, called Mŭnârâh. Step out now upon this rocky platform, and enjoy at your leisure, and in silence, a panorama more beautiful and as vast as that which Moses saw from the top of Pisgah.
Well! I have never seen any prospect to equal that. I presume not.
Magnificent View
The declivity sinks beneath our feet down — down, sheer down fifteen hundred feet and more, to the plain of the Hûleh; and when you can withdraw your gaze from this scene of utmost loveliness, turn to that which surrounds it. Lofty Lebanon stretches northward to the snowy summit of Sŭnnîn, which looks down on Cœlo-Syria and the ruins of Baalbek. Before us Hermon lifts his head to heaven in solemn and solitary majesty. Those sugar-loaf hills on that vast plateau to the east and southeast are so many landmarks in the misty and mysterious Hauran, with the Great Desert of Arabia behind and beyond. Those shadowy lines that bound the hazy horizon to the south are Gilead and Bashan, the territories of old Sihon and Og, kings of the Amorites. On our right are the mountains of the Galilees and Samaria, while behind us the hills of Naphtali and Asher sink, by successive terraces, down to the sea-coast of Acre, Tyre, and Sidon. What countless thoughts cluster around such a group of things and names as this!
Not to confuse the mind with dim distances and immeasurable magnitudes, let us study a while this noble vale beneath us. It is the basin of the Jordan, the birthplace of that sacred river in which the Son of God was baptized.
Vale of Upper Jordan
During the rainy months of winter it receives a hundred little tributaries from those snowy ravines around the north end of Hermon. From thence it cuts its way through dark beds of lava, some twenty miles, to the great fountain of Fuarr, below Hasbeiya, which is its most distant permanent source. With the name of Hasbāny it passes southward to this plain and marsh of the Mûleh, receiving on its way the stream from Shib'ah, the great fountain of Sureîd, beneath Kefr Shûb’ah and the Luisany at El Ghŭjar. Thus augmented, it
penetrates the marsh about five miles, when it is joined by the Leddan, from Tell el Kady, and the Baniasy, from Banias, united a short half mile north of ' the Tell called Sheikh Yusûf.
Sources of Jordan
Of these main branches of the Jordan, the Hasbāny is the longest by forty miles, the Leddan is much the largest, and the Baniasy the most beautiful. Besides these, a considerable stream comes from the plain of Ijon, the joint contribution of the Derdarah and Ruahîny, west of Abel. Several immense fountains also burst out along the base of this mountain on which we are standing, and send their streams through the marsh to the river and the lake. The largest are those of Blât and El Mellahah. The lake itself may be eight miles long, and six broad across the north end, but it runs to a point southward, where the Jordan leaves it.
The HûLeh
This is the Merom of Joshua, the Samechonitis of the Greeks, the Hûleh of the Arabs. The plain and marsh above it are about ten miles square. The eastern half is sufficiently dry for cultivation, and is, in fact, the great granary of the surrounding country, and the boast of the Arabs. The climate is warm, the soil fat as that of Egypt, and the whole is irrigated by innumerable canals from the Hasbāny, the Leddan, and the Baniasy.
In the center rises the Leddan, at the base of that circular mound, which you can trace by the line of trees around its outer margin. It marks the site of the Sidonian Laish, the Dan of the Bible. Often have I sat under its great oak, and gazed in dreamy delight upon the luxuriant plain of the Hûleh. No wonder the spies exclaimed, “We have seen the land, and, behold, it is very good ... a place where there is no want of anything that is in the earth” (Judg. 18:9-109And they said, Arise, that we may go up against them: for we have seen the land, and, behold, it is very good: and are ye still? be not slothful to go, and to enter to possess the land. 10When ye go, ye shall come unto a people secure, and to a large land: for God hath given it into your hands; a place where there is no want of any thing that is in the earth. (Judges 18:9‑10)). We have spread out before us one of the great battlefields of the Bible — a vast theater built by the Architect of the universe; and upon its splendid stage has many a bloody tragedy been played out in downright earnest.
Abraham’s Battle at Dan
In the opening scene the chief actor is no less a personage than the “Father of the Faithful,” scattering to the winds those hard-named confederates who conquered Sodom, and carried away righteous Lot, with his family, captive. Abraham was sitting in his tent-door, under the great oak of Mature, when a fugitive from the vale of Siddim brought the tidings of his nephew's captivity. This was no time for rending of garments and fruitless lamentations. Arming his own servants — three hundred and eighteen — and sending a hasty summons to Mature, and his brothers Eshcol and Aner, to join him, he set off in hot pursuit. Passing Bethlehem and Salem, he swept over the mountains, and along the plains of Sychar and Esdraelon, and at the close of the fourth day (Josephus says he attacked them on the fifth night) he was probably climbing these hills of Naphtali. From these bold headlands he could see with perfect distinctness the enemy carousing in careless security around the fountain of Leddan. Having made the necessary dispositions for the attack, he waits for the veil of darkness; then, like an avalanche from the mountains, he bursts upon the sleeping host. The panic is immediate and universal, the confusion inextricable, the rout wild and ruinous. No one knows friend from foe. They trample down and slay each other, are swamped in miry canals, and entangled and torn to pieces in the thorny jungles of the Baniasy. Terror lends wings to the fugitives. They climb Castle Hill, rush along the vale of Yafûry, and, descending to the great plain by Beit Jenn, cease not their frantic flight until they reach Hobah, which is on the left hand of Damascus (Gen. 14:1515And he divided himself against them, he and his servants, by night, and smote them, and pursued them unto Hobah, which is on the left hand of Damascus. (Genesis 14:15)). Abraham returns victorious to Laish, which is Dan; the captives are released, and the goods collected. None have perished; nothing is lost. In triumph, and with devout thanksgiving, he, who through faith waxed valiant in battle (Heb. 11:3434Quenched the violence of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, out of weakness were made strong, waxed valiant in fight, turned to flight the armies of the aliens. (Hebrews 11:34)), marches back by Jerusalem to his tent on the plain of Mamre. Thus falls the curtain on the first act.
Joshua’s Victory Over the Canaanites
When it is again lifted, the theater is crowded with a mighty host — the Canaanite from the east and the west, the Amorite, the Hittite, and the Jebusite from the mountains, and the Hivite under Hermon — “much people, even as the sand that is upon the seashore in multitude, with horses and chariots very many” (Josh. 11:1-41And it came to pass, when Jabin king of Hazor had heard those things, that he sent to Jobab king of Madon, and to the king of Shimron, and to the king of Achshaph, 2And to the kings that were on the north of the mountains, and of the plains south of Chinneroth, and in the valley, and in the borders of Dor on the west, 3And to the Canaanite on the east and on the west, and to the Amorite, and the Hittite, and the Perizzite, and the Jebusite in the mountains, and to the Hivite under Hermon in the land of Mizpeh. 4And they went out, they and all their hosts with them, much people, even as the sand that is upon the sea shore in multitude, with horses and chariots very many. (Joshua 11:1‑4)). Far as the eye can reach, the plain is darkened by countless squadrons of the heathen. Confident in their numbers, they dream not of danger, when Joshua, with his valiant men of war, falls suddenly upon them. The mighty shout strikes terror into every heart. The shock is irresistible. Jabin, with his confederate kings, wakes only to join the universal rout. This vast theater of plain and marsh, and valley and mountain, is covered with fugitives and their fierce pursuers. Those whose homes lay beyond the mountains to the north and east, sought them by the great wady of the Upper Jordan, now Wady et Teim; or out east of Hermon, in the Hauran, the land of Mizpeh. Those from the seacoast of Acre and Carmel fled over these hills, and down southwest by Hazor to Misrephoth-Maim (Josh. 11:88And the Lord delivered them into the hand of Israel, who smote them, and chased them unto great Zidon, and unto Misrephoth-maim, and unto the valley of Mizpeh eastward; and they smote them, until they left them none remaining. (Joshua 11:8)), on the north border of the plain of Acre, now called Musheirifeh. Thence they dispersed to their homes along the seaboard as far south as Dor. Joshua himself chased a third division along the base of our mountain northward, past Abel-Beth-Maachah, through the plain of Ijon, down the tremendous gorge of the Litany to the ford at Tamrah, or the bridge at the Khutweh, and thence over the wooded spurs of Jebel Rihan toward great Zidon, behind whose lofty walls the flying host alone could find safety.
Hazor
Returning southward, he recrossed the Litany, stormed Hazor, the capital of King Jabin, and utterly consumed the city with fire (Josh. 11:1313But as for the cities that stood still in their strength, Israel burned none of them, save Hazor only; that did Joshua burn. (Joshua 11:13)). The shapeless ruins may still be seen a few miles west of us, with the identical name, and having a celebrated mazar, sacred to Joshua the son of Nun. The curtain drops over the burning capital. And now it rises once more, revealing a scene of dark treachery and cruel slaughter.
The Colony of Danites
See that band of daring Danites creeping stealthily around the reedy margin of the marsh toward Laish. Will no one sound the alarm? Alas! the indolent, luxurious, demoralized citizens slumber in fatal security, soothed by the murmurs of their magnificent fountain. And now the mound is gained, the walls scaled, the gates burst open, the city on fire, and men, women, and children fall in indiscriminate butchery. There is no help — no mercy. They are far from their parent city, Sidon — have no business with anybody, no friends, no allies (Jud. 18:28). The foul work over, the murderous band sit down in quiet possession, rebuild, and call the city Dan, after the father of their tribe. Henceforth it is famous as the boundary on the north of the Promised Land, and “from Dan even to Beersheba” becomes the proverbial limit of Israel's inheritance (1 Sam. 3:2020And all Israel from Dan even to Beer-sheba knew that Samuel was established to be a prophet of the Lord. (1 Samuel 3:20)).
People of Laish
I read this tragedy with feelings of indignation and abhorrence. True, these Phoenician dwellers in Laish were every way ripe for destruction. They were lazy, dwelling carelessly, after the manner of the Zidonians, quiet and secure. They had nothing to do. They had no business with any one. They had no government and no moral character. There was no magistrate in the land that might put them to shame in anything (Jud. 13:7). They deserve little commiseration, no doubt, but then these Danites were thieves and robbers, “bitter and angry fellows,” ready to run upon and murder poor Micah, whom they had plundered of his property (Jud. 18:22-25). They were also traitors to their religion and the God of their fathers. Immediately they set up the graven image stolen from Micah; and the golden calves of Dan became a snare to all Israel, until they were carried captive by Shalmaneser, and placed in Halah and in Habor, by the River Gozan (2 Kings 17:66In the ninth year of Hoshea the king of Assyria took Samaria, and carried Israel away into Assyria, and placed them in Halah and in Habor by the river of Gozan, and in the cities of the Medes. (2 Kings 17:6)). Dan has ceased to be a city for ages. Not one solitary habitation is there. The fountain still pours forth its river of delicious water, but herds of black buffaloes wash and wallow in its crystal pools. You cannot even examine the site with satisfaction, so dense is the jungle of briars, thorns, and thistles which have overspread it.
Insurrection of Sheba
One more act, and our drama is ended. “There happened to be there a man of Belial, whose name was Sheba, the son of Bichri, a Benjamite: and he blew a trumpet, and said, We have no part in David, neither have we inheritance in the son of Jesse: every man to his tents, O Israel” (2 Sam. 20:11And there happened to be there a man of Belial, whose name was Sheba, the son of Bichri, a Benjamite: and he blew a trumpet, and said, We have no part in David, neither have we inheritance in the son of Jesse: every man to his tents, O Israel. (2 Samuel 20:1)).
David was extremely disturbed at this rebellion of the son of Bichri, and Joab, the bloody murderer, but mighty captain, was sent in pursuit of him through all the tribes of Israel; and he came and besieged him in Abel of Beth-Maachah. There it is, on that long oval mound to the northeast of us. I have repeatedly ridden round it, and stood on the top, trying to realize the scene. Taking advantage of an oblong knoll of natural rock that rises above the surrounding plain, the original inhabitants raised a high mound sufficiently large for their city. With a deep “trench” and strong wall, it must have been almost impregnable. The country on every side is most lovely, well watered, and very fertile. The Derdâra, from lion, falls from that plain by a succession of cataracts, and glides swiftly along the western declivity of the mound, and from the neighboring mountain gushes out the powerful stream of Ruahîny.
Abel of Beth-Maachah
Such fountains and brooks would convert any part of this country into a paradise of fruits and flowers; and such, no doubt, was Abel, when she was called “a mother in Israel.” But the iron hoof of war tramples all in the dust. The besiegers cast up a mount against the city, “and it stood in the trench: and all the people that were with Joab battered the wall, to throw it down. Then cried a wise woman out of the city, Hear, hear; say, I pray you, unto Joab, Come near hither, that I may speak with thee. And when he was come near unto her, the woman said, Art thou Joab? and he answered, I am he. Then she said unto him, Hear the words of thine handmaid. And he answered, I do hear. Then she spake, saying, They were wont to speak in old time, saying, They shall surely ask counsel at Abel; and so they ended the matter. I am one of them that are peaceable and faithful in Israel: thou seekest to destroy a city and a mother in Israel: why wilt thou swallow up the inheritance of the Lord? And Joab answered and said, Far be it, far be it from me, that I should swallow up or destroy. The matter is not so: but a man of Mount Ephraim, Sheba, the son of Bichri by name, hath lifted up his hand against the king, even against David: deliver him only, and I will depart from the city. And the woman said, His head shall be thrown to thee over the wall. Then the woman went to all the people in her wisdom: and they cut off the head of Sheba the son of Bichri, and cast it out to Joab: and he blew a trumpet, and they retired from the city, every one to his tent, and Joab returned to Jerusalem unto the king” (2 Sam. 20:15-2215And they came and besieged him in Abel of Beth-maachah, and they cast up a bank against the city, and it stood in the trench: and all the people that were with Joab battered the wall, to throw it down. 16Then cried a wise woman out of the city, Hear, hear; say, I pray you, unto Joab, Come near hither, that I may speak with thee. 17And when he was come near unto her, the woman said, Art thou Joab? And he answered, I am he. Then she said unto him, Hear the words of thine handmaid. And he answered, I do hear. 18Then she spake, saying, They were wont to speak in old time, saying, They shall surely ask counsel at Abel: and so they ended the matter. 19I am one of them that are peaceable and faithful in Israel: thou seekest to destroy a city and a mother in Israel: why wilt thou swallow up the inheritance of the Lord? 20And Joab answered and said, Far be it, far be it from me, that I should swallow up or destroy. 21The matter is not so: but a man of mount Ephraim, Sheba the son of Bichri by name, hath lifted up his hand against the king, even against David: deliver him only, and I will depart from the city. And the woman said unto Joab, Behold, his head shall be thrown to thee over the wall. 22Then the woman went unto all the people in her wisdom. And they cut off the head of Sheba the son of Bichri, and cast it out to Joab. And he blew a trumpet, and they retired from the city, every man to his tent. And Joab returned to Jerusalem unto the king. (2 Samuel 20:15‑22)). Thus ends the last act of our tragedy. The curtain falls, and we must retire to our tent, as did the host of Joab.
I trust you will not be greatly scandalized, but, fascinated with the theater and the stage, I have been a very heedless listener to your tragedy.
I am not at all surprised. The first time I gazed upon this scene I should have felt anything an impertinence that disturbed the pleasing trance. But seek not a closer acquaintance. 'Tis distance lends enchantment. Abel itself is a sad example of the utter decay and ruin that has “swallowed up the inheritance of the Lord.”
Present Village
The present village, far from being a mother in Israel, occupies only a small portion of the mound; and wisdom and counsel will be sought in vain at the hands of the peasants who lounge in rags and filth upon the dunghills which barricade their streets and doors. And now the green hills of Naphtali are casting their shadows over the lovely Hûleh as the sun sinks to rest in the distant sea, and we must hasten to our camp under Hunîn.