En Route for Hebron. ―― Travelers. ―― Beautiful Scenery. ――
Ancient Travelers. ―― Evening. ―― Gray’s Elegy. ―― Search
for Lodgings. ―― Hebron. ―― Its Name. ―― Origin. ―― Home of
Abraham. ―― History. ―― Location of the City and its Environs.
―― Pools. ―― Cave of Machpelah. ―― The Mosque over it. ――
Tombs of the Patriarchs and their Wives. ―― Prince of Wales.
―― Isaac still Lives. ―― Identity of the Cave. ―― Evidence.
―― United in Death. ―― Beersheba. ―― Its ancient Wells. ――
Events of the Past. ―― Changeless Customs. ―― Abraham and the
Angels. ―― Dining with an Arab Sheikh. ―― Grapes of Eshcol. ――
Abraham’s Oak. ―― Ruins. ―― Pool of Solomon. ―― His Aqueduct.
―― Plains of Rephaim.
IT was four o’clock, one Friday afternoon in the month of March, when
we issued from the western portal of Bethlehem on our way to Hebron.
We had dined at a small German inn within the town, and from the
proprietor I had obtained a spirited horse, though at an exorbitant
price. The descent from the hill on which the city stands is rapid and
difficult. In less than half an hour we reached the Pools of Solomon,
but the day was too far advanced to examine them with care. Many
travelers were on their way to northern cities, some on camels, some on
asses, some on foot. Salutations were exchanged as we passed each other,
and their appearance indicated both kindness and thrift. The men were
attired in loose flowing robes, with sandals and turbans; the women in
blue garments, and a white sheet enveloping their person; a thin veil
was drawn closely around the lower part of the face, just above which
their black lustrous eyes were peering. It was a strange sight to an
American to see men riding and women walking; but in the land of Sarah,
Rachel, and Mary, where the highest honor ever bestowed upon our race
was conferred upon a woman, her degradation is no less true than sad.
Beyond the Pools the country rapidly improved in fertility and beauty.
Though hilly, the land was not mountainous; and though the relative
position of hill and valley was not regular, yet this confusion added
interest to the scene. The vales were green with grains and grasses;
the hills were covered with groves of fruit-trees; and along the
highway were wells and fountains of cool water. As we advanced the
scenery became picturesque. Now the valleys ran tortuously between
the mountains; now ridges of Jura limestone rose on either hand;
now dwarfed oaks and wild flowers covered hill and vale, while every
where were visible ancient terraces and ruined towers, the evidence of
former cultivation and of a larger population. But the pleasures of the
journey were lessened by the condition of the roads, which were crooked
and uneven, broken and stony. Sections of the old Roman highway remain,
but by the neglect of twelve centuries this once famous road, over
which the Roman chariot rolled, has been so damaged that those “royal
road-makers” would now disown it as the work of their hands. Yet even
an inconvenience so great was forgotten in the recollection that over
this same road Abraham had passed with Isaac to the Land of Moriah,
Jacob had fled from the face of Esau, David had ridden in triumph to
Jerusalem, and the Holy Family had hastened to Egypt to escape the
murdering minions of Herod.
The day was far gone as we neared the home of the Patriarchs. The sun
was fast sinking into the blue waters of the Mediterranean; the Hebron
Hills were casting their lengthening shadows over the vineyards of
Eshcol, and the wild flowers, blooming along the path, were closing
their tiny petals “beneath the kisses of night.” It was such an hour
and such a scene as the plaintive bard has embalmed in immortal verse:
“The lowing herd winds slowly o’er the lea,
The plowman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
* * * * *
“Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds.”[342]
Illustration: HEBRON.
A solitary light shone from the minaret of Hebron as we entered its
ancient portal. “Strangers in a strange land,” we sat down upon the
stone pavement, waiting the return of our dragoman, whom, in the
absence of a hotel, we had dispatched to search for lodgings in a
private dwelling. Weary and hungry, we waited till nine o’clock for
his return, being closely watched by the Hebronites, and, in turn, we
watched the progress of a little courtship between a pretty Jewess and
a young Israelite――she coquettishly peeping through a latticed window,
he standing beneath it, catching the smiles and accents of love.
A Polish Jew had been persuaded to receive us into his house, but as
it was Friday night, the beginning of the Jewish Sabbath, the family
refused to prepare us food, or do any thing for our comfort which
required work. Our host’s name was Jonah, a most unpromising fact.
According to the style of Polish Jews, he wore yellow robes trimmed
with fur, and a high round fur cap. His wife was elegantly attired, and
was a person of more than ordinary beauty, which was not true of the
other ladies of the family. Their house was near the Cave of Machpelah,
and built of gray limestone. The room we occupied was in the second
story; the ceiling was arched, and on the sides of the apartment was a
raised platform, which served us as a couch. We had eaten nothing since
we left Bethlehem; our host’s religion would not allow him to relieve
our hunger, and, while we sent for a little Mohammedan maid to prepare
the meal, I thought on our Lord’s parable of the ass in a ditch on the
Sabbath-day.
Hebron comes from Kirjath-Arba――city of Arba――from Arba, who was
father of Anak, and progenitor of the giants called Anakims. At a
later period it received the name of Mamre, in honor of Mamre, the
Amorite, the friend and ally of Abraham. It now bears the Arabic name
of El-Khulêl, “The Friend of God,” evidently referring to the “Father
of the Faithful.” Hebron is older than the oldest authentic history.
According to Moses, Hebron was built seven years before Zoan in
Egypt.[343] But when was Zoan built? Seven years after Hebron! This
indefinite answer leaves us to infer that Hebron is among the oldest
cities in the world, having a greater antiquity than Damascus. Though
its earliest history is obscure, its identity with the home of the
patriarchs is unquestioned. Subsequently to his separation from Lot at
Bethel, Abraham pitched his tent on the Plains of Mamre.[344] Hither
came the fugitive from the battle of the kings, and informed him of the
capture of his nephew.[345] From these peaceful pasture-fields he went
forth with 318 trained servants, born in his own house, and, pursuing
the victors unto Dan, there retook his relative.[346] It was here,
while sitting in his tent door, as old men are accustomed now to sit,
that three angels in human form came to his tent, one to promise him a
son, the others to pass on and destroy the “cities of the plain;”[347]
and, ascending the eastern hill early the next morning, he saw the
smoke of the country that went up as the smoke of a furnace.[348] Here,
in harmony with the renewal of a covenant previously formed, and in
obedience to the Lord’s command, he and all the males of his house
were circumcised. Here is the scene of the unhappy story of Hagar and
Ishmael,[349] and, years later, of the birth of Isaac. Here Sarah died,
and in the cave of Machpelah Abraham interred his beloved wife.[350]
Years after, the prince of patriarchs was laid by her side; and, in the
termination of generations, Isaac and Rebecca,[351] Leah and Jacob,[352]
descended to this abode of death. Two and a half centuries subsequent
to the demise of Jacob, the good Caleb rested in peace and honor in
Hebron;[353] and, 400 years later, David here inaugurated a long and
prosperous reign, and held his court during seven and a half years.[354]
But in less than 1000 years thereafter the home of the patriarchs and
the seat of royalty became the theatre of the most horrid tragedies of
war. Here, beside the graves of their fathers, and beneath the noble
oaks on the ancestral plain, thousands of Jewish captives were brought
from Jerusalem by the victorious Romans and sold into slavery.
Having an elevation of 28,000 feet above the sea, the modern town of
Hebron is beautifully situated in the Valley of Eshcol. Extending north
and south, and spreading out over the slopes of the neighboring hills,
the city is divided by gardens into two sections, the main portion
lying on the eastern slope, surmounted by the lofty wall of the Haram.
To the north, on the declivities of the western hills, is a large
cemetery. The graves of ordinary persons are marked by a circle of
stones, while the tombs of distinguished individuals are designated
by heaps of small stones, thrown together by friends and admirers to
perpetuate their memory. The hills that bound the city on the east
and west are not high, but graceful and rolling. To the northwest they
are thickly covered with olive-groves, orchards of fruit-trees, and
vineyards, each with a watch-tower for shelter and protection. There
is nothing in the architecture of the town to awaken admiration. Like
the buildings in the suburbs of Damascus, the dwellings are of gray
limestone, with flat roofs, and surmounted by one or two domes. Unlike
Jerusalem, the city has no walls, though at the entrance of the chief
thoroughfares there are gates, which are closed at night, and carefully
guarded during the day. The streets are nothing more than paved
alleys, and would be vastly improved by an occasional cleansing.
Though subject to Mohammedan control, Hebron is a thoroughly Jewish
city. The population is estimated at 10,000, 500 of whom are Polish
Jews. There is not a resident Christian in Hebron. The citizens live
by cultivating fruit-groves and vineyards; by a small mercantile trade;
and by the manufacture of water skin-bottles and colored glass trinkets,
such as rings and bracelets, which find a ready market among this
simple-hearted people.
In a country where water is scarce, and the mechanical art is in a
rude condition, the pools and fountains of the wiser and more opulent
ancients are preserved with care. The traveler is therefore not
surprised to find himself standing beside fountains as old as the reign
of David. In the southern part of the vale, where the buildings stretch
across the valley from east to west, is the pool over which were hanged
the murderers of Ishbosheth.[355] It is a square tank, solidly built
of large hewn stones, measuring 130 feet on each side and fifty deep;
and in the northern section of the town there is another reservoir,
eighty-five feet long, fifty-five broad, and eighteen deep.
But the chief attraction in Hebron, alike to the Christian, the Jew,
and the Moslem, is the cave of Machpelah, now bearing the Arabic name
of El-Khulîl――“The Friend of God.” Approaching it with a reverence
almost religious, with head uncovered, and with emotions excited by
the hallowed associations of the place, I had hoped to have entered
its precincts, and to have read the Bible story of its purchase and
of the interment of the patriarchal families, but a Moslem fanaticism,
as inhuman as it is irreligious, drove me from the sacred inclosure.
What a stinging rebuke to such conduct is found in the courtesy, the
justice, the goodness displayed by Abraham in the purchase of the field
from the sons of Heth! His memory should soften religious asperities;
his character should pacify the rage of fanaticism; his spirit should
harmonize the discordant elements of sectarian strife; but a Moslem
is too selfish, too bigoted, too depraved to rise to such sublime
conceptions.
The field containing the cave of Machpelah is located on the higher
slope of the eastern hill, and is now inclosed by a massive wall fifty
feet high, the lower portion of which, to the height of forty feet,
is of Jewish construction, and the upper part is of Saracenic origin,
with a minaret at each angle. The wall has an ancient appearance, being
constructed of large beveled stones hewn smooth, and extends north and
south 200 feet, and 115 east and west. The exterior is ornamented with
square pilasters, sixteen on each side, eight at each angle, which,
without capitals, support a cornice extending the whole length of the
structure. The wall is solid, without window or aperture except at the
angles of the northern end, where are the chief entrances, reached by
broad flights of steps, of gentle ascent, leading to the court within.
Within this mural inclosure stands a mosque, once a Byzantine church,
which, like the Church of St. Sophia in Constantinople and the Church
of Justinian in Jerusalem, has been essentially altered and dedicated
to Mohammed. Beneath it is the cave of Machpelah, and within it are the
monumental shrines of the patriarchal dead. Within a small chapel, on
the right, is the cenotaph in honor of Abraham, and directly opposite,
in a similar recess, is the shrine of Sarah. Each is inclosed by an
iron railing, and guarded by a silver gate. That of the father of the
faithful consists of a coffin-like-structure, six feet high, built
of plastered marble, draped with three carpets of a green color,
embroidered with gold, while over that of Sarah is spread a pall. On
the sides of the mosque, midway the building, and immediately opposite
each other, are the monumental tombs of Isaac and Rebecca. Like those
of their parents, they are placed within chapels, in the walls of which
are windows, protected by iron bars. In a separate cloister, opposite
the entrance of the mosque, in corresponding recesses, are the tombs of
Jacob and Leah. Over that of the former are green-colored carpets of a
coarse texture; against that of the latter recline two war-banners of
the same hue.
Regarding these tombs with a superstitious veneration in keeping with
the spirit and teachings of their religion, and with a fanaticism that
would lead to the instant death of an intruder, the Moslems reverence
them as among their holiest shrines. Until the year 1862, admittance
was absolutely refused to Jew and Christian, except to architects,
who were allowed to enter to repair the structure; but, thanks to
the intelligence, the power, and perseverance of the Prince of Wales,
the bar of seclusion from this most sacred and interesting place has
been removed; and though at present the relaxation is slight, yet
the ultimate effect of the prince’s visit must be the removal of all
restraint, at least so far as to admit the ordinary traveler to the
sacred inclosure, as he is now admitted to the Mosque of Omar, for a
small fee, which formerly was as sacredly guarded. Moslem cupidity can
not brook the temptations of gold.
Canon Stanley, who accompanied the prince, has recorded, with his usual
elegance of diction, some thrilling illustrations of the superstition
and almost religious awe with which the guardians of the Mosque regard
these patriarchal shrines. “The princes of any other nation,” said
the chief santon, “should have passed over my dead body sooner than
enter; but to the eldest son of the Queen of England we are willing to
accord even this privilege.” And, as the party entered the silver gate
guarding the tomb of Abraham, the priest ejaculated, “O Friend of God,
forgive this intrusion.” Maintaining even in death their rigid rule
of the exclusion of male visitors from the society of their females,
not even the Crown Prince of England was permitted to approach the
cenotaphs of Sarah and her female descendants. The patriarchs being
regarded as still existing in a state of suspended animation, and
capable of resenting any indignity offered to their sepulchres, or
the presence of any unwelcome visitor, the prince’s party was denied
admittance to the tomb of Isaac, who, according to the santon, being
unlike his kind-hearted father, and more easily exasperated, would
arise and drive out any but those congenial to his spirit.
Beneath the Mosque is the sacred cave where rest in peace the remains
of the eminent dead, and where to this day may still repose intact
the embalmed body of Jacob. Machpelah signifying “double,” the cave
consists of two compartments, separated by a wall of native rock. To
its sepulchral vaults there are three entrances――one in the northwest
corner, close to the western wall; a second in the court, opposite the
entrance-gate of the Mosque; and a third near the shrine of Abraham.
Believing, like the Catholics, in the intercession of saints, the
Moslems throw their petitions to the patriarchs[356] through the latter
aperture.
Of the identity of this spot with the cave of Machpelah there can
not be a reasonable doubt. In the days of Josephus it was marked by
a memorial erected by Abraham himself, and from his time both Jews,
Christians, and Moslems have in turn been the faithful guardians of
the patriarchal tomb. Its identity is avouched by the belief of the
Jews themselves, and around its venerable walls the despised descendant
of the illustrious patriarchs now chants his prayers, and laments the
departed glory of the once mighty kingdom of his renowned ancestors.
Threatened with instant death should his devotion or temerity lead him
to cross the threshold, he is only permitted, on certain occasions, to
look through an aperture in the massive wall upon the spot where rest
in peace those who were mighty in their day and generation, but who, in
the helplessness of death, can bring no relief to a posterity who have
abandoned their altars, and rejected the long-promised and now exalted
Messiah.
There was something touching in the thought that I stood beside the
family vault of those who had long lived together in the happy estate
of matrimony, and there was even enjoyment in the reflection that God
had vindicated the duality and unity of marriage in the grave. Here,
side by side, sleep Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebekah, Jacob and
Leah. Hagar and Keturah are not with Sarah, and Rachel is not with her
sister Leah. Is this separation in death God’s reproof to Jacob for
his dissatisfaction with Leah? Though the reasons that determined him
to inter his beautiful Rachel in a common field by the roadside are
unknown to us, and though Hebron is less than twenty miles distant from
Ephrath, yet it is somewhat remarkable that in after years she was not
exhumed and laid in the family tomb of Machpelah. Was Jacob unwilling
to divide his grave with the daughters of Laban? or, conscious of the
purity and singleness of his affection for Rachel, would he have her
alone even in death? By the highway her solitary tomb remains, and, as
if impressed with the patriarch’s wish, his descendants have made no
interments on the spot.
Inseparably connected with Hebron is Beersheba, which is less
than forty miles to the south. The road thither is hilly, and the
journey toilsome; but, on approaching the well that Abraham dug, the
pasture-fields of the patriarchs stretch out before the eye in all
their native beauty and richness. Covering an area half a mile in
length and a quarter of a mile in breadth are fragments of pottery,
remains of foundations, and traces of a stone wall, the date of which
is unknown, called by Moses Beer-sheba, “Well of the Oath,” because
of the covenant between Abraham and Abimelech, and by the Arabs Bîr
es-Seb’a, “Well of the Seven,” because of the seven ewe-lambs the
former gave the latter: the modern name corresponds with the Bible
designation. Having a diameter of twelve and a half feet, and a depth
of forty-four feet to the surface of the water, this well is excavated
in the living rock, and contains an abundance of pure fresh water.
Around this well what thrilling memories cluster! Departing from Hebron
after the conflagration of Sodom, Abraham planted here a grove, whose
fruit he gathered, and beneath whose shade he worshiped.[357] Here
Isaac spent his happy youth, rejoicing in the smiles of honored parents,
and here his father received the command to offer the child of promise
as a burnt-offering.[358] After the demise of his mother, here Isaac
received his bride Rebekah; and Beersheba became the scene of that
sad episode in domestic life, the fraud of Jacob in obtaining Esau’s
birthright.[359] Here, in manhood, those brothers were estranged by a
mother’s folly, and from this ancestral abode Jacob fled to Haran.[360]
After the lapse of seventy-five years he was here again, and offered
sacrifices prior to his departure into Egypt, whence he was brought
back with funeral honors such as only kings receive.[361] Threatened
by the infatuated Jezebel, hither Elijah fled, and, sitting beneath
the shade of a juniper-tree, requested for himself that he might
die.[362] And here was the southern boundary of the Promised Land,
whose uttermost limits, in the earlier history of the nation, were
from “Dan to Beersheba.”
In a land where social and domestic customs never change, the scenes
of historic associations possess an interest that never fails. The
advanced civilization of Europe has there left to the traveler the
ruins of renowned cities, without perpetuating the customs of their
citizens. The temples, palaces, and dwellings of the Greeks and
Romans remain, attesting the genius, elegance, and wealth of their age,
but the social habits of the inhabitants of Athens and Rome bear no
resemblance to those of their superior ancestors. In Italy and Greece
one feels himself in an ancient country surrounded by a modern people,
and, to re-live the past, he must forsake the present. But in the East,
where a “thousand years are but as one day”――where the stereotyped life
of the patriarchs is the every-day life of the Arabs――where intonations
of voice, peculiarities of gesture, modes of salutation, styles of
dress, habits of business, customs of domestic life, and where the
tent, the meal, the fold are the same, the only difference is in the
change of the persons who now occupy the homes of those whose memory
we cherish, whose examples we imitate, and whose faith we aspire
to attain. Accustomed to the slow and regular processes of nature,
possessing power rather than capacity, and clinging to experience as
something immutable, those who live by the cultivation of the soil
look with suspicion upon novelties, regard innovations with dread,
and are the last to change. The incoming of Franks into Eastern cities
insensibly affects the manners of society; but here, on the patriarchal
pasture-fields of Mamre and Beersheba, the domestic life of to-day is
the same as it was 4000 years ago.
In crossing the great Plain of Wady esh-Sheikh, in Arabia, _en route_
for Mount Sinai, Sheik Hassan, the chief of a tribe of Tawarahs,
invited us to dine at his tent. It was noon when, from the backs of
our camels, we espied the encampment to the southward. Nine tents of
camel’s hair were arranged in a line, supported by rude poles. Those
for the females were impenetrable to the eye of strangers, while those
for the males consisted merely of a roof, with the sides and ends open.
On reaching the tent prepared for our reception, our camels knelt, we
dismounted, and the sheikh’s father, a man of eighty years, rose to
greet us, and bowed himself to the ground in an attitude of profound
respect.[363] Mats were spread for us to sit upon, and water was
brought to wash our hands and feet.[364] To the east of this tented
home Hassan’s daughters were keeping his flocks, as Rachel had kept
those of Laban nearly forty centuries ago.[365] A young man was sent
to the fold to fetch a kid, tender and good, and, having dressed it,
carried it into the tent to Hassan’s wife, who cooked it with milk
and rice. The rice and meat were brought on two large wooden plates
into our tent, and set before us on a small stool less than a foot
high. Without knife, fork, or spoon, we returned to the days before
the invention of such instruments, and with our fingers begun to eat,
while the sheikh respectfully stood up, attentive to our wants.[366] It
being a breach of Arab etiquette to inquire after the health of a wife,
we were not permitted to ask for Sarah as the angels did.[367]
Had the dinner Abraham prepared for the three angels on the plains
of Mamre been dramatized, the correspondence could hardly have been
more exact. The tent-life; this distant field; the pressing invitation
to dine; the water for the ablution of our hands and feet; the going
to the field for a kid; handing it to a servant to dress it; the meal
itself; the sheikh standing up while we ate; the seclusion of the
females gave a lifelike reality to the sacred story.
Like the patriarchs of old, these Bedouin sheikhs lead a predatory life,
moving their tents from place to place, according to the climate, and
the demands of their herds and flocks. But in wealth, in hospitality,
in reputation, in purity of character, in devotion, in intellect, in
nobility of nature, the modern Arab chief holds no comparison with the
exalted nature, the high-toned character, and the Christian-like piety
of the prince of the patriarchs.
As in the days of the Hebrew spies, the Vale of Hebron is still famous
for the delicious grapes of Eshcol.[368] Extending up the valley for
more than a mile, and covering the sloping hills on either side, these
celebrated vineyards are cultivated with care, and are a source of
considerable revenue to the proprietors. Unlike our vineyards, those
of Eshcol have no arbors. The vines are planted in rows, from eight to
ten feet apart in each direction. When they attain a height of six feet
they are attached to a stake, placed in a sloping position, and the
shoots extending from vine to vine form a long and graceful festoon.
Occasionally two opposite rows are purposely inclined toward each
other, forming with their branches a natural arbor. After vintage, in
late autumn, all the shoots are pruned off, and the stocks are cut down
within a few feet of the ground, leaving an ungainly and apparently
dead trunk; but the returning spring brings forth again the tender
leaf, and the coming summer matures the luscious grape for the autumnal
vintage. In each vineyard there is a lodge, or stone tower, from which
the watchman keeps guard against the depredations of beasts and the
incursions of robbers. During the vintage season the town is deserted;
the people retire to these towers, each one sitting beneath his own
vine and fig-tree,[369] and dividing the time between the gathering of
the fruitage and the enjoyments of the annual festival. As the Moslems,
who are the principal proprietors, are not allowed by their Koran to
make wine, the grapes are either dried into raisins, or they are first
pressed, and the juice is then boiled down into a sirup called dîbs,
not unlike molasses, but of a more delightful flavor and delicious
taste. It was to these vineyards the spies came, and from them they
carried bunches of the grapes to Moses and their brethren as evidence
of the fruitfulness of the Promised Land. Their journey was long,
fatiguing, and perilous. Leaving Kadesh Barnea, in the Desert of Paran,
they entered the Jordan Valley, and followed the river northward to
Lake Tiberias, and, winding round its northern shore, entered the upper
valley of the Jordan, pursuing their journey as far as Rehob, near
Dan, as men come to Hamath; thence returning through the midst of the
land by Tabor, across the great plain of Esdraelon, over the hills of
Samaria, through the vale of Shechem, by Jacob’s well, over the heights
of Benjamin and Judah, by Shiloh, Bethel, Jerusalem, and Bethlehem, to
Hebron. Here flows the brook Eshcol, from which they drank, and from
the vines along its banks they cut down a branch with one cluster of
grapes, “and they bare it between two upon a staff.” To those who live
in more northern climates, this story of the enormous size and great
weight of a single bunch of grapes must seem incredible; but, whatever
may be the degeneracy of the Syrian grape, through centuries of neglect,
the proof is abundant that in southern latitudes grapes grow to an
enormous size. According to Pliny, a bunch of African grapes was larger
than an infant. Paul Lucas mentions bunches which he saw in Damascus
weighing forty-five pounds each, and in Naples I have eaten grapes
each one as large as a plum. The mode, however, adopted by the spies to
carry the bunch from Eshcol to Kadesh Barnea was probably not rendered
necessary by the size of the cluster so much as by the desire to
preserve it entire for the benefit of their brethren.[370] Watched by
the keen eye of the vine-dresser, we entered the vineyard, and were
impressed with the exact correspondence between the one before us and
the one described by our Lord: There was a certain householder, which
planted a vineyard, hedged it round about, digged a wine-press in it,
built a tower, and let it out to husbandmen.[371] There were the vines;
around them was the hedge; within it was the press; yonder stood the
tower, and by my side toiled the husbandman. Within the same vale are
groves of olives, and orchards of figs, and apricots, and quinces,
and pomegranates. The latter fruit, so frequently referred to in the
Bible, is as sweet to the taste as it is pleasant to the eye. In form
and size it is not unlike an orange, and in color inclines to a pale
yellow, tinged with a red blush. They grow upon a thorny bush, with
a tulip-shaped flower of a brilliant red color, and form one of the
luxuries of the East both to the native and to the stranger. But the
noblest of all the trees of Hebron is the remarkable oak of Abraham. It
stands in the midst of the vineyards, in a clean, smooth spot, covered
with soft, fresh grass, and near a well of cool water. It is an oak of
the evergreen species, measuring twenty-three feet in girth, and its
magnificent branches spread out over a circle ninety feet in diameter.
Six feet from the ground the trunk separates into four huge branches,
and, higher up, these in turn spread out into many more. Standing alone,
it appears to greater advantage, and its lengthened arms, loaded with
exquisite foliage, affords delightful shade to the weary traveler. Here,
on their festive days, the Jewish maidens and the young men of Hebron
assemble beneath this ancestral tree to enjoy the rural pleasure of the
song and dance. Though of great age, it is still sound and majestic,
and with it tradition associates many thrilling memories. Standing
on the Plain of Mamre, it probably marks the spot where Abraham
pitched his tent and entertained the angels. Though hardly credible
that this terebinth should have remained green and vigorous during the
lapse of nearly forty centuries, yet it may be cherished as the last
representative of the sacred forest of Mamre. Fond of contrasts, and
never happier than when the extremes of fortune and the ends of time
meet in the same scene, the Oriental legendaries point to this noble
oak as the slave-mart where the descendants of Abraham were sold by
their Roman masters into captivity.
Plucking a leaf from the famous oak and a sprig from the vines of
Eshcol, we mounted our horses, and in less than an hour reached the
ruins of Remit el-Khulîl, the house of Abraham. Occupying the summit
of a mountain ridge, from which the blue waters of the Mediterranean
were distinctly seen, they consist of massive stone walls, of rounded
columns now broken, of arched vaults now in ruins, and of a noble well
hewn out of the solid rock. The two remaining walls are constructed of
well-dressed stones, measuring fifteen feet in length, and are in good
condition. The wall facing the south extends east and west 290 feet,
while the other, running at right angles with the former, is 160 in
length. The well is a perfect circle, with a diameter of ten feet.
Its sides are faced with smooth dressed stones, from out the joints of
which exquisite ferns were growing. The water is deep, clear, and sweet,
reflecting the sun by day, and the moon and stars by night. An unsolved
mystery still hangs over the ruins of Remit el-Khulîl, if ruins they be.
Their founder and their age are alike unknown. The Jews point to them
as marking one of the halting-places of Abraham; the Latin fathers
of church history ascribe them to Constantine the Great; while others
attribute them to some unknown person, who would have reared for
himself a castle and a palace, but was unable to finish the designed
plan.
Resuming our journey, in half an hour we passed on our right a mosque,
whose solitary minaret rose gracefully in honor of the Prophet Jonah,
while to the left, a mile beyond, was a crumbling tower with pointed
arches, and near it an immense fountain, where shepherds were bathing.
On either side of the road were excavated tombs, now the haunt of the
hyena and jackal. The mosque probably marks the site of Halhul, and the
tower the site of Beth-zur, enumerated by Joshua as among the cities of
Judah.[372] Fifteen miles to the north from Hebron the valley of Urtâs
crosses the road at right angles, and to the right of the highway are
the celebrated Pools of Solomon. To these, and to the lovely gardens
which once environed them, he refers in Ecclesiastes, ii., 5, 6: “I
made me gardens and orchards, and I planted trees in them of all kinds
of fruits. I made me pools of water, to water therewith the wood that
bringeth forth trees.” Nowhere in the environs of Jerusalem could
the wise king have attained the consummation of his wishes to greater
advantage than here. Under the horticultural care of a Christian Jew,
the valley of Urtâs has been transformed into a charming garden. What
were once rocky hills are now terraced from base to summit, covered
with olives, figs, and almonds, while in the bed of the valley are
grains and grasses, flowers and vegetables, growing in rich abundance.
With his inexhaustible resources, what a scene of beauty must the
vale of Etham and the neighboring hills have presented in the days
of Solomon’s strength and glory! But Time, that inexorable destroyer
of human works, has effaced every trace of his wonderful genius save
the pools that bear his name. Both history and tradition point with
unmistakable accuracy to the imperial founder of these great fountains.
With his accustomed love of detail, Josephus refers to the rivulets and
gardens of Etham, situated fifty stadia to the south from the Holy City,
whither Solomon was wont to retire for rural delights; and the Rabbins,
with even greater minuteness, describe the aqueduct which conveyed the
waters of Urtâs to Jerusalem.
Illustration: URTÂS.
These pools consist of three immense reservoirs, situated in a straight
line one below the other, and so constructed that the bottom of the
first is higher than the top of the second, and the second than that of
the third. They are in part excavated in the rocky bed of the valley,
and in part built of square hewn stones covered with cement, and are
entered by stone steps excavated in the rock. Measuring 380 feet in
length, 236 in breadth, and twenty-five in depth, the upper pool is
the smallest of the three. A hundred and sixty feet to the east is the
middle pool, which is 423 feet long, thirty-nine deep, and varies from
160 to 250 wide. Two hundred and forty-eight feet farther east is the
lowest and largest reservoir, being 582 feet in length, from 148 to 207
in width, and fifty feet in depth, and, when full, capable of floating
one of our largest men-of-war. The eastern end of the lowest pool is
supported by immense buttresses, in one of which is a chamber, and in
the north wall of the first tank is a filter――a wise precaution. Forty
rods to the northwest, in an open field, are the perennial sources of
these great fountains. Twelve feet below the surface are two vaulted
chambers, the larger of the two being thirty-seven feet long and twenty
wide. Springing up at four different places through the bottom of these
chambers, the water is conducted by little ducts into a large basin,
from which it flows through a subterranean canal to the northwest
corner of the first pool, where it is divided, a portion of it flowing
into a deep vault near the old castle, and thence being conducted into
the first pool, while the remainder is carried by an aqueduct along the
hill-side, which is so arranged as to send a portion of its water into
the second and third pools, and then, descending rapidly, joins the
aqueduct leading from the lowest pool, from which point the water is
conducted, via Bethlehem, by a sinuous channel to Jerusalem. I know not
which to admire more――the genius of the architect that conceived such
a complicated work, or the public spirit of the king who supplied the
means for its execution. The original design was to supply the Holy
City with pure cool water, and also the Temple service, which demanded
such large quantities. And to obtain a constant and unfailing supply,
these tanks bore to each other a mutual relation. When the fountain
yielded more than was necessary, the surplus was carried into the pools,
and when the yield was not equal to the demand, the deficiency was
supplied from the pools themselves.
The wind blew hard from the northwest as I traced up the hill-side
the ancient aqueduct, repeating those impressive words of the great
proverbialist, “Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.” Like the melancholy
strains of a dirge, the winds moaned as they swept round the mountain
brow, and the waters sighed as they languidly fell from pool to pool.
Was it not the requiem of his departed glory? A solitary descendant
of his mighty kingdom now grubs a living where once his royal gardens
stood, of whose beauty he sang in all the tenderness of the Canticles;
and the robber of the desert and the wild Bedouin of the hills now
bathe in those fountains which once sent murmuring streamlets along
verdant banks and flowery beds, and supplied the imperial table with
the cooling beverage.
Illustration: SOLOMON’S POOLS.
The aqueduct is constructed of red earthen pipes, covered, for
protection, by common limestone flagging. In many places the flagging
is removed and the pottery broken, to accommodate the traveler with
water. To preserve a proper level, it sweeps around the hills and heads
of the valleys; and, though fatiguing to follow its windings, it repaid
the toil, as illustrating the fact that, while the ancients could
construct the most complicated works of masonry, they were ignorant
of the simple method of conducting water over a level higher than its
source. Having followed the aqueduct two miles, we crossed the wild
valley of Ta’âmirah, and reached Bethlehem in time to enjoy a Christian
wedding. Ten pretty maidens had assembled at the door of the bride, and
were singing a simple but sweet melody, accompanied with the clapping
of hands. Unlike the music of the Moslems, there was a warmth in these
bridal songs thrilling and joyous. From a scene so happy we passed
through the town, and, a mile from the ancient gateway to the northwest,
we came to the tomb of Rachel. “And they journey from Bethel; and there
was but a little way to come to Ephrath; and Rachel died and was buried
in the way to Ephrath, which is Bethlehem. And Jacob set a pillar upon
her grave; that is the pillar of Rachel’s grave unto this day.”[373]
The pillar reared to the memory of a beloved wife has given place to a
small white square building, surmounted by a dome. It is a Mohammedan
wely. Standing by the side of the great road from Jerusalem to Hebron,
the site has never been lost, its identity never questioned. Jew,
Christian, Moslem, equally revere it, and never pass it without some
token of affectionate remembrance. Gathering a few wild flowers growing
near the dust of Rachel, we resumed our journey toward Jerusalem. In
half an hour we reached the convent dedicated to Elijah, called Mâr
Eliâs, and here came upon the new and noble macadamized road, extending
from Bethlehem to Jerusalem, constructed by the monks of Mâr Eliâs,
which is the first of the kind in Palestine, since the construction
of a similar road by the French, running from Beîrut to Damascus. The
wind had increased to a tornado as we swept by the Plain of Rephaim. It
was the last object of Biblical interest to heighten the joy of a long
and interesting tour. Stretching from the rocky brow of Hinnom to the
Convent of Elias, it gradually declines to the narrow Valley of Roses.
A mile in length, it is one of the richest plains in the Holy Land. It
is remarkable in sacred history as the camp of the Philistines in the
days of Saul, and as containing a mulberry-grove, now gone, in the tops
of the trees, of which David heard a “sound of a going,”[374] which to
him was the signal of war and the pæan of victory.