Upon the mainland, adjacent to the island, had stood for many centuries
another city, which the people distinguished by the name of Old Tyre. A
hundred and fifty years before, its glory had departed, when it fell
conquered by the Babylonian Nebuchadnezzar. The dangers of its exposed
position on the mainland, as compared with the safety of the island
which the Great Sea guarded as a mighty moat, led the Phoenicians to
neglect the rebuilding of the old city. Its broken walls, fifteen miles
in circuit, were filled with the débris of once proud temples and
stately palaces. A few buildings of straggling architecture had been
hastily reconstructed with the blocks of stone that made the graceful
lines of an ancient mart or fortress. Shanties stood upon the dismantled
foundations, and scattered among the ruins were the black tents of
traders. A new market-place had been opened close to the shore, where
the many caravans that crossed the Lebanons from Damascus exchanged
their rich loads for those brought over the sea.
One of the most prominent ruins in Old Tyre was that of an ancient
temple of Baal. Superstitious reverence for the place had prevented its
use as a quarry, the fate of so many other ruins. Huge blocks of stone,
such as the Phoenician builders were famous for using in their gigantic
temples, loaded the ground; and concealed beneath them were subterranean
passage-ways, which the priests of old had used in going from one part
of the sacred edifice to another, unseen by the worshippers. These were
now the abode of jackals, whose domiciles were uninvaded except by the
flitting of the bats and the gliding of serpents through the narrower
crevices. On the plaza, which had been the court of the old temple, and
which was largely unencumbered with débris, rose a dilapidated image of
Baal-Moloch.
To Captain Hanno, in recognition of his accession to the priesthood, and
as a stimulus to the flagging zeal of others in the class of citizens to
which he belonged, was assigned the honorable duty of superintending the
preparation for the sacrifice; and he well exemplified the adage, "There
is no zealot so zealous as a new one." Under his orders masons relaid
the walls of the fire-pit beneath the statue. A gang of sailors rigged
chains for the moving of the brazen arms of the gigantic figure.
Brass-workers burnished the breast of the god until it dazzled the
beholder like a miniature sunset. Sidonian glass-makers furnished great
globes, covered with vitreous glazing, for the eyes which glared from
the bull's head that surmounted the human shoulders of the monster.
Pipes from the fire-pit were to convey the smoke through the nostrils.
Piles of wood were brought from the Lebanons, and casks of inflammable
oil were placed in readiness near by. Various enclosures were set up for
singers, drum-beaters, and trumpeters. Elevated platforms awaited the
guilds of civil dignitaries. Lines were drawn within which the priests
could congregate according to the different gods they served, and
display in pious rivalry, but without confusion, the insignia of their
varied worship. This spot was reserved for the devotees of Dagon, the
fish-god; that for Adonis, the god of the seasons. Sadyk, the god of
justice, was assigned here; and next to him his children, the Cabeiri,
had their places. Prominent provision was made for the priests of
Astarte, the moon-god, queen of heaven, and for those of Melkarth, god
of the city; while the open space directly around the image was reserved
for the officiants at the sacrifice.
The day for the solemnity opened with auspicious omen. The sun-god
poured down his lustre unbroken by a cloud. Though yet early summer, the
rays were intense and burning; suggestive of the wrath of Moloch, who
drank up the springs of water, withered vegetation, and threatened the
land with the horrors of a famine by drought, a calamity to be averted
only by appeasing his thirst with the blood of nobler victims.
The entire shipping of the port was arrayed in festive colors. There
were vessels not only of Tyre, but from the neighboring cities on the
Phoenician coast--Sarepta and Sidon, Byblus and Berytus, Aratus and
Joppa--vying with one another in the splendor of the devices by which
they exalted their various local divinities, while they attested their
common faith in the dread majesty of Baal-Moloch. Trading vessels from
Egypt and Greece, and from the far western coasts of the Great Sea also,
willingly hastened their coming or delayed their departure that, with
reverent curiosity, they might witness the stupendous rites.
The plan for the solemn cortège of vessels that was to convey the
victims for the sacrifice from Tyre to the place prepared on the
mainland, included a procession around the entire island, starting from
the Egyptian harbor, on the south, curving westward and northward
through the open sea, thence eastward, passing the Sidonian harbor, and
across the narrow space of water to the shore.
This line of movement symbolized the purpose of the whole ceremonial to
secure a blessing upon everything that related to Tyre's prosperity--her
homes, her arts, her commerce, as well as upon her temples and priests.
Along this prescribed course the Phoenician ships were anchored side by
side in double rows, between whose bows the sacred barges that conveyed
the gifts for Baal should pass. Of these barges there were three.
The first was laden with miscellaneous offerings. There were piles of
elegant garments, made of silk wrought on the looms of distant Persia,
and the finest linen of Egypt, which had adorned the persons of princely
men, or added fascination to the most beautiful women. With such
offerings the aristocratic expressed their humiliation before the god,
denuding themselves of their pride, even as they divested themselves of
their expensive apparel. Put as each valuable piece was marked
ostentatiously with the name of the donor, a sceptic might have thought
that the sinful trait of vanity lay deeper than the soft raiment had
touched. Jars of precious dyes were so placed that their dripping
contents stained the sea in the wake of the barges, attesting the piety
of the makers of such stuffs. Great sacks of ground spices were the
offering of a ship-owner whose vessel had gone around Africa and entered
the Gulf of Araby, where these precious treasures were procured. These
were flung in handfuls to the gentle wind, and loaded the atmosphere
with their aroma. There were also great mounds of fruit; birds of rarest
plumage; blooded dogs from the kennels of sportsmen; a goat with dyed
horns; a sheep with prodigious covering of wool; a splendid horse, the
gift of Prince Rubaal; and a bull with white feet, the special offering
of the High Priest Egbalus.
The second barge had a more precious freight--seven times seven mothers,
each fondling for the last time her first-born son, a little babe that
lay naked in her lap. Some of these women belonged to the lowest class,
the abandoned sort, whose maternal impulses were hardly above the
brutal instinct, and who were not averse to making a religious merit of
the infanticide to which they had been sometimes tempted in order to
escape the care of their offspring. Others among them were honest, but
abjectly poor, and had been persuaded by the priests thus to give their
children back to the All-giving Baal. A few made the sacrifice with
bleeding hearts. These sat in utter misery, staring as if for relief
towards the burning heavens, that gave no token of mercy. Around the
group of innocents was ranged a cordon of enthusiasts, who sang in
prayer to Baal, and again in wild refrain declared the god's reward to
those who willingly gave up their children--riches untold, and new
offspring according to desire in number, sex, and beauty; all painless
gifts, in compensation for the pang of their gift to Heaven.
The third barge surpassed all in the splendor and costliness of its
decoration. About its sides were ranged the statues and banners
representing all the gods of Phoenicia. In the centre rose an
altar-shaped throne. The royal chair was overlaid with beaten gold.
Above it hung a canopy of purple silk, the same that Trypho had dyed for
Hiram's gift to Zillah. The king sat on his throne as if he commanded
the pageant. His face was white, his lips compressed, his eye steady: a
king still, though seemingly done in marble. On his head he wore the
ancient crown of Tyre. In his hand was a sword of bronze, its bluish
blade exquisitely chased with the symbols of authority, and its golden
hilt thickly studded with gems. At the prow of the barge stood Egbalus,
arrayed in the most gorgeous vestments of his office, his hands
outstretched in continual prayer.
The imposing cortège made its way slowly; the barges being propelled
only by priests, whose sacred character was supposed to make amends for
their lack of skill in handling the long oars that were affixed to the
sides. The tall prows of the vessels that lined the course, as a guard
of honor, were surmounted with figure-heads representing the gods; and,
moved by the gentle undulation of the waves, these divinities seemed to
bow in acknowledgment of the superior honor of Moloch.