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The Land and The Book - Volume I


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THE LAND AND THE BOOK;

 

OR,

 

BIBLICAL ILLUSTRATIONS DRAWN FROM

THE MANNERS AND CUSTOMS, THE SCENES

AND SCENERY OF

 

THE HOLY LAND.

 

By W. M. THOMSON, D.D.,

 

TWENTY - FIVE YEARS A MISSIONARY OF THE A.B.O.F.M. IN SΥRΙΑ AND PALESTINE.

 

Maps, Engravings, & c.

 

IN TWO VOLUMES.

 

VOL. I.

 

NEW YORK:

HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,

FRANKLIN SQUARE.

1874.

 

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand eight hundred and fifty-eight, by

HARPER & BROTHERS,

In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court for the Southern District of New York.

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AUTHOR’S PREFACE.

 

Every sincere attempt to illustrate the Word of God is in itself commendable. On this fundamental fact the author rests his apology for obtruding the present work upon the notice of the public. Commentaries are daily multiplying; geographies and dictionaries, researches and travels almost innumerable, lend their aid to the student of the sacred page, and it is not proposed to add another to the long list. The author does not attempt a consecutive comment on any par­ticular book of the Bible, but selects indiscriminately from all, such passages as contain the themes he desires to eluci­date. The field is ample, and it is abundantly rich in sub­jects for scenic and pictorial description. Whether he has succeeded in working out his own idea or not must be left for others to determine, but, if he has failed, it has not been through want of opportunity to study the originals of which his pictures are to be copies. For a quarter of a century he has resided amid the scenes and the scenery to be described, and from midday to midnight, in winter and in summer, has gazed upon them with a joyous enthusiasm that never tired. The first impressions, corrected and improved by subsequent study and examination, are now reproduced for the eye of the public and the heart of the pious.

 

The author entertains the opinion that much has been pub­lished upon Biblical illustration which recent research has shown to be incorrect or rendered superfluous, and much, also, that does not properly belong to the subject. Erudite and curious inquiries into the life and conduct of patriarchs, prophets, and kings, for example, though valu­able contributions to religious knowledge, are plainly out of place in such works; and the same remark applies to extended critical and exegetical discussion. In these and many other departments of Biblical literature, the student in the heart of Germany or America, surrounded by ample libraries, is in a better situation to carry on profitable in­quiries than the pilgrim in the Holy Land, however long his loiterings or extended his rambles. But it is far other­wise in respect to the scenes and the scenery of the Bible, and to the living manners and customs of the East which illustrate that blessed book. Here we need the actual ob­server, not the distant and secluded student. To describe these things, and such as these, one must have seen and felt them, and this the author has done through many years of various vicissitude and adventure, and whatever of life and truth may be in his pictures is due solely to this fact. Here is his appropriate field, and the limit of his promise. Where he has been he proposes to guide his reader, through that “good land” of mountain, and vale, and lake, and river—to the shepherd’s tent, the peasant’s hut, the hermit’s cave, and palace of kings, and temple of gods—to the haunts of the living and the sepulchres of the dead—to muse on what has been, and converse with what is, and learn from all what they can teach concerning the oracles of God.

 

A large part of these pages was actually written in the open country—on sea-shore or sacred lake, on hill-side or mountain top, under the olive, or the oak, or the shadow of a great rock: there the author lived, thought, felt, and wrote; and, no doubt, place and circumstance have given color and character to many parts of the work. He would not have it otherwise. That blessed book, at once his guide, pattern, and text, wears the same air of country life, and He who came from heaven to earth for man’s redemption loved not the city. To the wilderness and the mountain he re­tired to meditate and pray. Thither he led his disciples and the listening multitudes; and from seedtime and har­vest, and flocks and shepherds, and birds and flowers, he drew his sweetest lessons of instruction. In this identical land, amid the same scenes, has the author of this work earnestly cultivated communion and intimate correspondence with this divine Teacher, and with the internal and external life of the Book of God; and what he has found and felt he has tried to trace upon the silent page for other eyes to see and other hearts to enjoy. Whether wisely done or other­wise, herein is revealed the reason of that rural abandon in matter and manner with which the reader is every where saluted.

 

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Though the author has had his full share of personal “ex­periences” during his long residence in the East, yet want of space has compelled him to omit such details, except where they serve to bring out some circumstance bearing upon the general design of the work. And the same neces­sity obliges him to forego, to a great extent, mere moral and devotional reflections. Many of the topics discussed not only admit of, but seem to suggest and even require them; but something must be left out, and, whether right or wrong, the author thought it most in accordance with the specific de­sign of his work to omit such “meditations.” And yet it is obvious that we ought not to impose silence upon the thousand witnesses to the veracity of the Bible which meet the pilgrim at every turn in his pathway. Broken columns, and prostrate temples, and cities in ·ruin, must bear testimo­ny to the inspiration of prophecy; and ravens and spar­rows, and cedars and brambles, and fruits and flowers, will preach sermons and utter parables, and we shall not hesitate to listen when they begin to teach.


 


Finally, in this connection, should any of the author’s friends be disappointed in not finding more reference to the missionary operations with which he has been connected, he has no other apology to offer than want of space. A his­tory of these various enterprises, American, English, Irish, and German, would require a separate work, and therefore must be omitted in this.


 


The “Land and the Book” is designed for general and popular reading rather than for the professional student, and therefore it has been deemed necessary to avoid dry textual exposition. In order to secure entire freedom in in­troducing into the current narrative the multifarious sub­jects to be illustrated, the author has adopted a modified form of dialogue, but he does not encumber his work with any complex machinery, any dramatis personӕ. He is not writing a novel or a play, to teach manners and morals, or portray human character, and his traveling companion acts mainly as usher, to introduce what needs to be introduced. It is merely a device to smooth the transition from topic to topic, and from scene to scene, as occasion may require. This, in its present application, may be new, but for the pur­pose for which it is assumed it has many and important ad­vantages.


 


The “pilgrimage” is continued through so much of the Land and of the year as to allow the author to treat of those passages in the Bible which refer to such matters in their appropriate place and time; and thus he does not speak of harvest in winter, nor of the vintage in spring, nor of rains and storms in summer, but of all in the seasons when they actually occur. There are also certain subjects which nat­urally group themselves around a few localities. For ex­ample, the battle-fields of the Bible are mainly in the south­ern part of Palestine, where Joshua, and Samson, and Sam­uel, and Saul, and David performed most of their exploits, and on the plains of Esdraelon and the Hȗleh. Again, the Parables have all a natural basis, upon which they are constructed by the divine skill of Him who spoke as never man spake, and these mostly cluster about Nazareth, Gennesaret, and Capernaum.


 


The pictorial illustrations have been prepared with much care, and beautifully executed, and add greatly not only to the interest, but also to the real value of the work. Many of them are original, and others selected from the best ex­isting sources, and so corrected as to be more true to nature, and more appropriate to the book. In this department the author has been largely indebted to the pencil of his son, W. H. Thomson. The maps have been compiled and drawn with exclusive reference to the present work, and embody, it is believed, all the most valuable results of recent geo­graphical explorations in the Holy Land.


 


Each volume is supplied with two copious and carefully prepared indexes, one of texts, and the other of names and subjects; and the attention of the reader is particularly di­rected to them, as they will greatly facilitate reference to those parts of the work where the various subjects treated of, and the Scripture passages illustrated, are to be found.


 


And now, with the cheerful hope and fervent prayer that our pleasant pilgrimage together through the earthly Ca­naan may hereafter be resumed and perpetuated in the heavenly, the author bids his courteous reader a cordial adieu.


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LIST OF ENGRAVINGS IN VOL I.

 

Map of Southern Syria and Palestine

View of Beirȗt Frontispiece

Kharȗb-tree

Pods of the Kharȗb

Sycamore-tree

Pigs of the Sycamore

Moslems at Prayer

Gate of a City

Letter-writer

Barber’s Shop

Street, with loaded animals 

Fountain at Beirȗt

House with Roof and Battlements

Terrace with Vines

Sparrow

View of Dog River

Road over Pass at Dog River

Figure of Persian Warrior at Dog River 

Egyptian Figures at Dog River 

Natural Bridge over N. el Lebn 

Palm-trees

Cluster of Dates

Raven

Dove

Olive-branch

Aged Olive-tree surrounded by young ones   

Sarcophagi

View of Damȗr (River)

Arabs at a Well

Specimens of Tattooing

The Tomb of Jonas

Arbor covered with a Gourd

Homed Ladies

Pewit

Hedhood

Residence of Lady Hester Stanhope 

Grave of Lady H. Stanhope

Bridge over the Owely

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Sidon from the North

Jackals

Mortar and Pestle

Syrian Sheep

Women weeping at the Graves

Tear Bottles

Tombs of the Judges

Sidon with its Gardens      

The Banana-tree

Arab Pipes and the “Jousy”

Argelehs

Finjan and Zarf

Syrian Gentleman in full Dress 

Dress of Working Classes

Dress of a Syrian or Egyptian Lady 

Head-dress

Shoes, Boots, Kŭbkobs

Scamla or Arab Table

Party at Dinner

Tusht and Ibriek

Washing Hands

Necklace, Bracelets, Anklets. 

Ear-drops, Necklace

Writing Materials

Lewan, Court, Fountain

Coins of Philip and Alexander 

Sarcophagus (Phœnician, at Sidon)

Willy or Mazar

Plowing

Amulets

Charms

Serpent Charmers

The Dowseh

View of Sarafend (Sarepta). 

House with an ’Allȋyeh

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Coast of Tyre and Sidon

Tombs of ’Adlȗn

Gazelles

Bridge over the Litany

Scene on the Litany

Eagle and Nest

Tyre (from the East)

Ancient Stone in Wall at Tyre 

Broken Purpura

Ras el ’Ain (great Fountain at Tyre)  

Ruins of ancient Aqueduct at Tyre 

Tomb of Hiram

The Cedars of Lebanon 

Cedar Cones

Ancient Figures on Rock at Kanah 

Marȃh, Sheep-fold

Ancient Oil Mills and Presses 

Partridges

Falcon

Falcon (small)

Castle of Tibnȋn

Upper ’Ard Hȗleh

Upper Jordan

Cave at Banias

Temples at Baalbek

Great Stone in the Quarry

Plan of Temples at Baalbek

Kamȗa Hermel

Figures on the Kamȗa

View of Lake Phiala

Syrian Oak

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Scorpion

Scorpion

The Buffalo

Seid Yehuda

The Crow

The Jackdaw

North End of Lake Hȗleh (Hermon in the distance) 

Babeer Cane

Jisr Benat Yacobe

Pelican

Fountain of Sabbatic River

The Terebinth

Pigeon-house

The Turtle-dove

The Ring-dove

Safed (Lake Tiberias in the distance)  

Conies

Ladder of Tyre

Em el ’Amed

Hŭmsȋn (column)

Acre (from the East)

Khaifa and Carmel  

Eagles

Lock and Key, Oriental

Almond-tree

Stork

Wallet

Ruins at Capernaum 

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INTRODUCTION.

 

The land where the Word-made-flesh dwelt with men is, and must ever be, an integral part of the Divine Revelation. Her testimony is essential to the chain of evidences, her aid invaluable in exposition. Mournful deserts and mouldering ruins rebuke the pride of man and vindicate the truth of God; and yawning gulfs, from Tophet to the Sea of Death, in its sepulchre of bitumen and brimstone, warn the wicked, and prophesy of coming wrath. Even the trees of her for­ests speak parables, and rough brambles bear allegories; while little sparrows sing hymns to the happy, and lilies give lessons to comfort the poor. The very hills and mount­ains, rocks, rivers, and fountains, are symbols and pledges of things far better than themselves. In a word, Palestine is one vast tablet whereupon God’s messages to men have been drawn, arid graven deep in living characters by the Great Publisher of glad tidings, to be seen and read of all to the end of time.

 

The Land and the Book—with reverence be it said—constitute the ENTIRE and ALL-PERFECT text, and should be studied together. To read the one by the light of the other has been the privilege of the author for twenty-five years; and the governing purpose in publishing is to fur­nish additional facilities for this delightful study to those who have not been thus favored. The Itinerary commences with eighteen hundred and fifty-seven, but the scenes described were visited many times during the preceding quar­ter of a century. These almost innumerable excursions are not imaginary, but real; and the results, so far as they bear on Biblical Illustration, appear in the current narrative.

 

The “conversations,” also, are equally genuine—are, in fact, a part of the tours—held in the open country, on horseback, or beneath the pilgrim’s tent. Each reader is at liberty to regard himself as the compagnon de voyage; but, in the mind of the author, his fellow-traveler is not a mythical abstrac­tion, whose office is merely to introduce new themes as they are needed, but a true and loving brother, who thus an­nounces his arrival and the object of his visit:

 

“Ras Beirȗt, January 20th, 1857.

 

“My dear W—, I this morning woke to find life’s long dream a beautiful reality. For twenty years and more, as you well know, a visit to Palestine has been the unattained object of my fondest aspirations; and now here am I safely landed on her sacred shore, in perfect health, and ready to prosecute our pilgrimage with cheerful courage and high hope. The compact of our boyhood is to be realized, and I summon you to fulfill your part of it. This land of the Bible must become familiar to me as child­hood’s home. There are lessons in every thing around me, I feel quite sure, and teachers on every side, did I but know their language. You are to be my dragoman to interpret this unknown tongue of the Holy Land. Such, you remember, is our compact.

 

“I am told that the necessary preparation for our travels can only be made in this city. Come on, therefore, without delay, and let us gather together whatever will contribute to our comfort, safety, and success. This will reach you by messenger express. The answer, I hope, will be yourself.”

 

This summons was neither unexpected nor reluctantly obeyed; and a few hours’ ride along the shore brought the author from Sidon to Beirȗt, where the long-separated met in the hospitable mansion of a mutual friend. And now, kind reader, I trust that, like ourselves, you are eager to commence this tour of the Holy Land. But we must begin our preparations for it with “the garment of patience.” Horses, and mules, and tents, and canteens, and beds, cook­ing apparatus and servants to use it, with many other things too trifling to be mentioned, yet too necessary to be omit­ted, can not be secured in a day. Meanwhile we may em­ploy some of the hours of unavoidable delay in excursions to sites and scenes in and around our beautiful city. In­deed, we invite you to join us in such a ramble at once through these charming suburbs.

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THE LAND AND THE BOOK.

 

I. BEIRUT.

 

January 24th, 1857.

 

Our first walk in the Land of Promise! To me a land of promises more numerous and not less interesting than those given to the Father of the Faithful, when the Lord said, Arise, walk through the land in the length of it and in the breadth of it; for I will give it unto thee.1 It is given to me also, and I mean to make it mine from Dan to Beer­sheba before I leave it.

 

Doubtless; and so every young enthusiast in trade means to make his fortune. But do you expect to gain such an inheritance as this in a few months? Abraham himself never set foot on one tenth of this territory, and Moses only got a bird’s-eye view of it—not a bad one, though, if the day was as intensely clear as ours is. One seems to look quite to the bottom of heaven’s profoundest azure, “where the everlasting stars abide;” and how sharp­ly defined is every rock and ravine, and tree and house on lofty Lebanon. That virgin snow on its summit is thirty miles off, and yet you could almost read your own name there, if written with a bold hand on its calm, cold brow. Through such utter transparency did the Lord show unto Moses, from the top of Mount Abarim, all the land of Gil­ead unto Dan, and all Naphtali, and the land of Ephraim and Manasseh, and all the land of Judah unto the utmost sea, and the south, and the plain of the valley of Jericho, the city of palm-trees, unto Zoar.2 Nor need there have been any miracle in the matter. Though a hundred and twenty years old, his eye was not dim, nor his natural force abated.3 And I can guide you to many a Pisgah on Leb­anon and Hermon from whence the view is far more ex­tensive. It was through such an atmosphere as this, I sup­pose, that the old Phoenicians first saw Cyprus, and called it Chittim, a name afterward applied by Hebrew poets and prophets to the islands of the Mediterranean in general.

 

I have heard it denied, both in and out of Palestine, that Cyprus could be seen from Lebanon, but from many a stand­point up yonder I have often beheld that favorite isle of the Paphian Venus glowing in the golden light of our sum­mer evenings. More distinctly still is Lebanon visible from Cyprus. There is a splendid view of it from the mount­ain of the Cross, a few miles back of Larnica; and many years ago, when traveling through the island, I climbed, with infinite toil, the northern range of mountains to a giddy pinnacle not far from the ruined but romantic castle of Bȗffavento, and from it the higher half of Lebanon look­ed like a huge snow-bank drifted up against the sky. Be­neath my feet rolled the sparkling seas of Cilicia and Pamphylia, over which Paul sailed on his way to Rome, while far beyond, the glaciers of Taurus flashed back the setting sun. Through such an atmosphere, objects are visible to a distance quite incredible to the inexperienced. You will find yourself deceived in this matter a hundred times before you have traveled a week in Syria. And now we are abroad, shall we ramble on ala bab Allah (toward God’s gate), as our Arabs say when they neither know nor care where they are going?

 

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1 Gen. 13:17

2 Deut. 34:1-3

3 Deut. 34:7

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Just my case at present. Where all is new, and every prospect pleases, it matters little what path we take, and, for the moment, I am thinking of what is not seen rather than what is.

 

Looking for an omnibus, perhaps, or expecting the cars to overtake us ?

 

Not just that. I know that such things are not yet found in Syria; but I am greatly surprised at the absence of all wheeled vehicles, and look round at every fresh noise, expecting to see a cart, or dray, or wagon of some kind or other, but am always disappointed.

 

And will be. There is nothing of the sort in Syria; neither is there street or road for them in any part of the land.

 

How do you account for this? It was not always so. We read of carriages and chariots at a very early age. Jo­seph sent wagons for the wives and little ones of his father’s family.1 Jacob’s funeral was attended by chariots from Egypt to Hebron.2 The Canaanites had chariots in the time of Joshua.3 Judah could not drive out the inhabitants of the valley because they had chariots of iron.4 Jabin had nine hundred,5 and the Philistines thirty thousand (?) in the reign of Saul.6 Isaiah rebuked the children of Israel because there was no end to their chariots;7 and thus it continued down to the time when Philip joined himself to the chariot of the eunuch on the road to Gaza.8 Through­out all this long period there were countless carriages in this country, and, of necessity, roads for them. How is it that now there is neither the one nor the other?

 

Natural enough, and very appropriate. The first inqui­ry of a sensible traveler in a strange land will have refer­ence to the means of locomotion. As to your question, however, the natives will tell you that carriage-roads can not be made in Syria. But this is a mistake. They might be constructed, at a moderate expense, in nearly all parts of the country. Their total disappearance can easily be ex­plained. When the wild Arabs of the Mohammedan des­olation became masters, wheeled vehicles immediately sunk into neglect, and even contempt. Accustomed only to the horse, the camel, and the ass, they despised all other means of travel and transportation. Good roads were not necessary for them,     and, being neglected, they quickly disappeared from the land, and carriages with them. Nor will they ever reappear till some other race than the Arab pre­dominates, and a better than the Turk governs. Even the Christian inhabitants of Lebanon, where good roads are most needed, have no adequate appreciation of them, and take no pains to make them. They drive their loaded camels, mules, and donkeys along frightful paths, and endanger their own necks by riding over the same, from generation to generation, without dreaming of any improvement. You must educate your nerves into indifference in this matter, and get ready as fast as possible to flounder over all sorts of break-neck places in the course of our pilgrimage.

 

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1 Gen. 45:19, 21

2 Gen. 1:9

3 Josh. 17:16

4 Judg. 1:19

5 Judg. 4:13

6 1 Sam. 8:5

7 Isaiah 2:7

8 Acts 8:28

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“What man has done, man can do.” I have all my life been accustomed to the saddle, and like it; and a little dan­ger now and then will impart additional charms to the tour.—What tree is this which overshadows our path? It is more bushy and thick-set than the apple-tree, for which I at first mistook it, and, as we near it, I see that the leaves are longer and of a much darker green.

 

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That is the khaȗhe tree that bore the husks which the swine did eat, and with which the poor prodigal would have filled his belly.1 The “husks”—a mistranslation—are fleshy pods somewhat like those of the honey-locust-tree, from six to ten inches long and one broad, lined inside with a gelatinous substance not wholly unpleasant to the taste when thoroughly ripe. I have seen large orchards of this kharȗb in Cyprus, where it is still the food which the swine do eat. In Syria, where we have no swine, or next to none, the pods are ground up, and a species of molasses ex­pressed, which is much used in making certain kinds of sweetmeats. The tree is an evergreen, and casts a most delightful and refreshing shade to the weary traveler. In this country they do not yield large crops, but in Cyprus, Asia Minor, and the Grecian Islands, you will see full-grown trees bending under half a ton of green pods. The kharȗb is often called St. John’s Bread, and also Locust-tree, from a mistaken idea about the food of the Baptist in the wilderness. It is the Ceratonia siliqua of Linnӕus.

 

That noble tree before us, with giant arms low down and wide open, must be the Syrian sycamore. I once heard an itinerant preacher in the “back woods” puzzle himself and his hearers with an elaborate criticism about the tree into which Zaccheus climbed to see the Saviour.2 He and his audience were familiar only with the sycamores of our flat river bottoms, tall as a steeple, and smooth as hypocrisy. “Why,” said the orator, “a squirrel can’t climb them.” The conclusion reached was that the sycamore must have been a mulberry-tree. But nothing is easier than to climb into these sycamores; and, in fact, here is a score of boys and girls in this one; and as its giant arms stretch quite across the road, those on them can look directly down upon any crowd passing beneath. It is admirably adapted to the purpose for which Zaccheus selected it.

 

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1 Luke 15:16

2 Luke 19:4

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LB5Sycamore.png   LB6seeds.png

 

True; and, moreover, it is generally planted by the way­side, and in the open spaces where several paths meet, just where Zaccheus found it This sycamore is a remarkable tree. It not only bears several crops of figs during the year, but those figs grow on short stems along the trunk and large branches, and not at the end of twigs, as in other fruit-bearing trees. The figs are small, and of a greenish-yellow color. At Gaza and Askelon, I saw them of a purple tinge, and much larger than they are in this part of the country. They were carried to market in large quan­tities, and appeared to be more valued there than with us. Still, they are, at best, very insipid, and none but the poorer classes eat them. This agrees with, and explains an allusion in Amos. He had aroused the wrath of Jeroboam by the severity of his rebukes, and, being advised to flee for his life, excuses him­self by a statement which implies that he belonged to the humblest class of the community. I am no prophet, nei­ther am I a prophet’s son; but I am a herdman, and a gatherer of sycamore fruit.1 None but the very poor consent to be herdmen, and only such, at this day, gather sycamore fruit or use it.

 

The natives say that the sycamore bears seven crops a year. I think it is irregular in this matter. Some bear oftener than others, and the same tree yields more crops one year than another. It is easily propagated merely by plant­ing a stout branch in the ground, and watering it until it has struck out roots into the soil. This it does with great rapidity, and to a vast depth. It was with reference to this latter fact that our blessed Lord selected it to illustrate the power of faith. If ye had faith as a grain of mustard-seed, ye might say unto this sycamine-tree, Be thou plucked up by the root, and be thou planted in the sea, and it should obey you.2 Now look at this tree—its ample girth, its widespread arms branching off from the parent trunk only a few feet from the ground; then examine its enormous roots, as thick, as numerous, and as wide spread into the deep soil below as the branches extend into the air above —the very best type of invincible steadfastness. What power on earth can pluck up such a tree? Heaven’s thunder-bolt may strike it down, the wild tornado may tear it to fragments, but nothing short of miraculous power can fair­ly pluck it up by the roots.

 

I have but faint ideas of a faith that could pluck up and plant in the sea such a tree as that; and these facts cer­tainly add great emphasis to the “parable.” You are doubt­less aware, however, that other critics besides our orator of the back-woods maintain that the sycamore of the New Testament is actually the mulberry-tree, and others that the sycamine of this passage and the sycamore are different trees; and there is a slight difference in the Greek.

 

I know it; but the word sycamine seems to be derived from the Hebrew name for sycamore, and I know no reason why their identity should be questioned. As to the mul­berry, it is yet to be shown that it was then known in Pal­estine, although our translators have mentioned it in one or two places; and, farther, the mulberry is more easily pluck­ed up by the roots than any other tree, of the same size, in the country, and the thing is oftener done. Hundreds of them are plucked up every year in this vicinity, and brought to the city for firewood. It is not to be supposed that He who spake as man never spoke would select this tree, with its short, feeble roots, to illustrate the irresistible power of faith.

 

The wood of the sycamore is soft and of very little value. This is implied in various places in the Bible. Thus in Isaiah, the people say in pride and stoutness of heart, . . . the sycamores are cut down, but we will change them to cedars.3 And so, in the days of Solomon, when even silver was nothing accounted of, he made cedars to be in Jerusa­lem as the sycamore-trees that are in the vale for abundance.4 It is a tender tree, flourishes immensely in sandy plains and warm vales, but can not bear the hard, cold mountain. A sharp frost will kill them; and this agrees with the fact that they were killed by it in Egypt. Among the wonders wrought in the field of Zoan, David says, He destroyed their vines with hail, and their sycamores with frost.5 Cer­tainly, a frost keen enough to kill the sycamore would be one of the greatest “wonders” that could happen at the pres­ent day in this same field of Zoan.

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1 Amos 7:14

2 Luke 17:6

3 Isaiah 9:10

4 1 Kings 10:27

5 Psalm 78:43,47

 
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We shall not reach the city to-day if we stop at every tree and shrub that is strange, oriental, or biblical.

 

Very likely. Here, for example, are the almond, the olive, the fig, and the pomegranate, all together; but we shall meet them every where in our pilgrimage, and can af­ford to pass them by at present. And, besides, we have before us a more interesting study — a scene not witnessed in all places in such perfection. See those men on that elevated terrace. One has spread his cloak, others their Persian rugs toward the south. They are Moslems, pre­paring to say prayers—perform them rather, in this most public place, and in the midst of all this noise and con­fusion.

 

LB7Pray.png

 

Let us stop and watch the ceremony as it goes on. That man next us raises his open hands till the thumbs touch the ears, exclaiming aloud, Allah-hȗ-akbar—“God is great.” After uttering mentally a few short petitions, the hands are brought down, and folded together near the girdle, while he recites the first chapter of the Koran, and two or three other brief passages from the same book. And now he bends forward, rests his hands upon his knees, and repeats three times a formula of praise to “God most great.” Then, standing erect, he cries Allah-hȗ-akbar, as at the beginning. Then see him drop upon his knees, and bend forward until his nose and forehead touch the ground, directly between his expanded hands. This he repeats three times, muttering all the while the same short formulas of prayer and praise. The next move will bring him to his knees, and then, settling back upon his heels, he will mumble over various small petitions, with sundry grunts and exclamations, according to taste and habit. He has now gone through one regular Rek’āh; and, standing up as at the first, and on exactly the same spot, he will perform a second, and even a third, if specially devout, with precisely the same genuflections.

 

LB8AWorship.png  LB8BWorship.png

 

They seem to be wholly absorbed in their devotions, and manifest a power of isolation and abstraction quite sur­prising.

 

That is the result of habit and education; small chil­dren imitate it to perfection. There is certainly an air of great solemnity in their mode of worship, and, when per­formed by a large assembly in the mosques, or by a detach­ment of soldiers in concert, guided in their genuflections by an imaum or dervish, who sings the service, it is quite im­pressive. I have seen it admirably enacted by moonlight, on the wild banks of the Orontes, in the plain of Hamath, and the scene was something more than romantic. But, alas! it was by as villainous a set of robbers as could be found, even in that lawless region.

 

You think, then, that this solemn ceremony is mere hollow-hearted hypocrisy?

 

Not exactly that; at least not necessarily so, nor in all cases. I would be glad to believe there was ordinarily any corresponding moral and religious feeling connected with this exterior manifestation of devotion. The Moslems them­selves, however, have no such idea. They are rather afraid of any one who is especially given to prayer—their prayers, I mean. They have a proverb to this effect: “If your neigh­bor has made the pilgrimage to Mecca once, watch him; if twice, avoid his society; if three times, move into another street.” And, certainly, no one acquainted with the people will feel his confidence in an individual increased by the fact that he is particularly devout.

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What opposite conclusions different persons can and do draw from the same premises! One who looks merely at the surface, or who is very charitable, or very indifferent, may connect this out-of-door, formal praying toward Mecca with the venerable custom of the pious Israelite turning to­ward the temple in Jerusalem, when, like Daniel in Babylon, he made his supplications unto his God.1 I think it probable that Mohammed, or the Arabs before him, bor­rowed this custom from the Jews; and, to this extent, there is a relation between them. But the enlightened Christian, who has learned that neither in this mountain, nor yet at Jerusalem, shall men worship the Father, who is a spirit, and must be worshiped in spirit and in truth2—such a one, I say, will be reminded rather of those who loved to pray standing in the synagogues and in the comers of the streets, that they might be seen of men. And they will remember with solemnity the admonition of our Lord, When thou prayest, thou shalt not be as the hypocrites are3—either as to place, attitude, motive, or form—in public to be seen of men, using vain repetitions4 as these men before us do. They are obliged to repeat some expressions thirty times; others many hundred times. Would that these remarks did not apply to nominal Christians in this land as well as to Moslems! But here we are at the gate of the city.

 

Stop a moment. A city gate is a novelty to me, and I must examine in detail an apparatus so often mentioned in the Bible.

 

LB9GatesCity.png
 

Well, what is there in a mere gate to attract attention? Very little, perhaps, to one who has passed in and out daily for twenty years; but a hundred Biblical incidents connect themselves in my mind with gates. Almost every city and town of ancient celebrity bad them, and they were places of very great importance.

 

They were, indeed; and, although customs have changed in this respect, there is still enough remaining in this coun­try to remind one of those olden times when nearly every public transaction took place at or near the city gates. Bei­rȗt has burst her shell by the force of sudden expansion, and will soon have neither wall nor gates; but nearly every other city in Syria and Palestine is still protected by these venerable safeguards.

 

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1 Dan. 6:10, 11

2 Matt. 6:5

3 John 4:21,24

4 Matt. 6:7

 

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And thus it was in ancient days. I remember that right­eous Lot, intent on deeds of hospitality, sat in the gate of Sodom toward the close of day, somewhat as these Arabs are now seated, I suppose, and thereby he obtained the priv­ilege of entertaining unawares those angels who saved him from the destruction of that wicked city.1 It was at the gate of Kirjath Arba (which is Hebron) that Abraham com­pleted the contract for the cave of Machpelah, in the presence of the children of Heth, before all that went in at the gate of the city.2 It was at the same place that Hamor and She­chem negotiated that fatal treaty with all that went in at the gate of the city,3 which gave opportunity to those fierce and treacherous brethren, Simeon and Levi, with instruments of cruelty to work out their revenge. Cursed be their anger, for it was fierce, and their wrath, for it was cruel.4

 

Since this very unpretending entrance to Beirȗt is lead­ing into a long discussion, let us prepare ourselves a seat, as Job did when he went out to the gate,5 and then we can talk at our leisure, and our ease as well. You observe that the gateway is vaulted, shady, and cool. This is one rea­son why people delight to assemble about it. Again, the curious and vain resort thither to see and be seen. Some go to meet their associates; others, to watch for returning friends, or to accompany those about to depart; while many gather there to hear the news, and to engage in trade and traffic. I have seen in certain places—Joppa, for example—the kȃdy and his court sitting at the entrance of the gate, hearing and adjudicating all sorts of causes in the audience of all that went in and out thereat. Throughout sacred his­tory, prophecy, and poetry, the gate is celebrated by numberless interesting incidents and allusions. It would require a little volume to notice and explain them all; but here we have the thing itself, with the void place about it,6 like that where Boaz made the elders of Bethlehem sit while he con­tracted for Ruth, the fair Moabitess;7 where Eli sat trem­bling for the ark of God, and fell back and broke his neck when tidings of its capture came.8 And here are the two leaves of the gate, and the bars, and the bolts, like those of Gaza, which Sampson tore from their sockets, and on his shoulders carried up to the top of a hill that is before Hebron.9 And over this gate is a chamber, like that to which David went and wept; and as he went, thus he said, O my son Absalom! my son, my son Absalom! would to God I had died for thee, O Absalom! my son, my son.10

 

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1 Gen. 19:1 and Heb. 13:2

2 Gen. 23:18

3 Gen. 34:20, 24

4 Gen. 49:5,7

5 Job 29:7

6 1 Kings 22:10

7 Ruth 4:1,2

8 1 Sam. 4:18

9 Judges 16:3

10 2 Sam. 18:33

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It is not difficult to comprehend why public proclama­tions were made in the gates, and why prophets so often pronounced their messages there. We read of the gates of righteousness, because justice and judgment were there de­creed and executed;1 and so, likewise, the prophets de­nounced the oppression of the poor in the gate, where cor­rupt judges sell justice to the highest bidder. They afflict the just, they take a bribe, they turn aside the poor in the gate from their right; and to this refers the exhortation to hate the evil, love the good, and establish judgment in the gate.2

 

Again, gates were fortified in the strongest possible man­ner. In them the people trusted for safety, and they natu­rally became the synonym for strength and power. Thou shalt call thy walls salvation, and thy gates praise.3 Hence the prophets delighted to personify them. In times of ca­lamity they languish and lament, mourn and howl; they sing, shout, and rejoice in prosperity. The Lord loveth the gates of Zion; and David exclaims, Lift up your heads, O ye gates, and be ye lifted up, ye everlasting doors, and the King of Glory shall come in.4 And remembering that all, both great and small, must enter by them, it is not far-fetched or unnatural to speak of the gates of death. And who has not felt the solemn admonition, Strive to enter in at the strait gate, and shuddered lest he should be swept along by the thoughtless crowd through the wide gate that leadeth to destruction? I have seen these strait gates and narrow ways, “with here and there a traveler.” They are in retired comers, and must be sought for, and are opened only to those who knock; and when the sun goes down, and the night comes on, they are shut and locked. It is then too late.5

 

I see we shall never get into the city, if we sit here con­versing about gates until the subject is exhausted.

 

Move on, then; but allow me to remark, as we enter, that gates have the same kind of names now as in ancient times, generally derived from some accidental circumstance con­nected with them. One is Bah el Bahar, because it leads to the sea. That near which the tanners carry on their busi­ness is Bab el Duhbȃgȃ. This one is Bab es Surraiyeh, be­cause the governor’s palace is near it. And thus, too, the streets and different quarters of the city derive their names. Those who follow the same trade congregate in the same street. This is saddlers’, the next blacksmiths’ street, and so on to the end of the list.

 

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1 Deut. 21:19; 22:24

2 Amos 5:12,15

3 Isaiah 60:18

4 Psalm 24:7

5 Luke 13:24,25 and Matt. 7:13

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Here is something new, I’ll engage; sufficiently Oriental, also, though “not according to Scripture.” This old man sitting by the mosque is a letter-writer. He has his paper near him, and his scissors to trim it to the required shape and size. He has taken the ink-horn, or what answers to that very ancient article of the “scribes,” from his girdle, and is now pointing one of those “reeds” which prophets and scribes so often mention. All this seems Biblical enough. But here comes a woman, veiled from head to foot, and takes her station by his side. See, she is whispering from behind her veil the desired message. That is sufficient; the salams, love, etc., etc., go in according to rule, and to all alike. Why, this is a sort of Moslem confessional, and that fel­low’s head must be crammed with the secrets and the scan­dal of half the city.

 

 

LB10LetterWriter.png

 

No matter; I suppose, like other confessors, he keeps dark, and may be trusted. Still, this letter-writing would not be a very thriving business in our country.

 

How every circumstance and incident carries one back to ages remote and primitive! This veil reminds me of Rebekah and her meeting with Isaac. But I see here and there a woman without it.

 

Yes; but they are peasants from the country, or else Rebekah's fair daughters, who now utterly refuse to follow her modest example. She put on a veil before her betrothed husband; these resolutely assert their “rights,” and their pretty pale faces are every where seen unveiled. They have, however, certain laws of modesty, which are most rig­idly enforced. For example, a Jewish matron must on no account allow her own hair to be seen. Hence, no matter how luxuriant and beautiful, it is carefully concealed under their curious head-dresses; and what appears to be hair is either silk imitation, or it is borrowed. Then, by a strange perversity of manners, or silly antagonism to Christianity, the men take pride in cultivating and exhibiting long, curl­ing locks. There go several of these Jew dandies at this moment, with their cherished locks flowing round their ears and necks in pretty curls.

 

Talking of Jews and Jewesses, and veils and hair, reminds me of that difficult passage in Paul’s letter to the Corinthians.1 Do the customs of the East in such matters throw any light upon it?

 

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1 1 Cor. 11:3-15


 

 

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I will state facts; you must judge for yourself how far they elucidate what is obscure. The words “praying and prophesying” include all the ordinary parts and acts of public worship. The language of Paul implies that, in these countries and at that time, the laws of modesty and propriety required the women to appear in their assemblies with their heads covered and their faces veiled. The men, on the con­trary, should be uncovered. It is remarkable that in their synagogues the men in our day keep on their hats or other head-dresses, and those who read the service throw a large veil over the head and shoulders, as if in direct and inten­tional contradiction to the Apostle. The women, if present at all, are unveiled. Now, if these are original Jewish habits and practices, it is plain that the Christian Church, from the very first, established new customs in these re­spects. It is supposed that the men are required to worship with heads uncovered, as a tacit acknowledgment of Christ’s divine presence among them; and a relic of this form of reverence may still be seen in Oriental churches, where all stand uncovered when the Gospel which contains the words of Christ is read. Or these directions of the Apostle may merely be part and parcel of those modifications and adap­tations by which the Gospel was (as Paul says of himself) to become all things to all men for their salvation. The mixture of Oriental Christians with heathen Greeks, Ro­mans, and other Occidental tribes, in their worshiping assem­blies, would doubtless render necessary a careful compliance, on the part of the women, with their ideas of feminine mod­esty and propriety. And the farther eastward the Gospel spread, such compliance would become more and more im­portant. At the present day, the missionary finds it strictly necessary, in many places, not only that the women should be veiled, but also that there should be a separate apart­ment for them, screened from the gaze of the men. The Apostle rebukes severely any approach toward immodesty. If the woman is determined to sit in the midst of such mix­ed assemblies, with a bold and impudent face, aping the men, then let her head be shorn or shaved like that of the men. What that means at this day you can easily see by looking into this barber’s shop over the way.


 


Well, that is strange enough; he has actually shaved the entire head bare as the palm of my hand. It is a hideous operation, and verily it would be a shame for a woman to be shorn or shaven. But what do you make of the tenth verse of this remarkable passage?


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LB11Barber.png


 


The word translated “power” is perhaps a mere symbol­ic title of the veil itself; nor is the figure altogether strange or unintelligible to an Oriental. The veil is, in fact, the beautiful ladies’ strength and defense. Modestly veiled, she appears any where and every where in perfect safety. She is held inviolate by a sensitive and most jealous public sentiment, and no man insults her but at the risk of being torn in pieces by an infuriated mob; but without the veil she is a weak, helpless thing, at the mercy of every brute who may choose to abuse her. The veil is therefore the virtuous woman’s “power,” and whenever she appears in public she ought to have this “power on her head;” in church, “because of the angels;" that is, the messengers and ministers, as I suppose. The women must be modestly veiled, because they are to sit in the presence and full view of the ministers, comparatively strangers to them, and many of them evangelists from foreign nations. Doddridge thinks it indecent to suppose that the ladies must be veiled, lest by their attractions they disturb the minds of the ministers. Such an idea could only be entertained by one ignorant of the power of Oriental customs in these matters. The oldest and most eminently modest native preacher that I am ac­quainted with, objected not only to the ladies appearing un­veiled (and for the very reason alluded to), but he would not have even their voices heard in the singing of the Church, because in this country they never sing but in strains designed and adapted to excite emotions which should be utterly banished from the place of prayer. Put the case, thus: A pious and modest Oriental preacher (who perhaps has rarely looked upon the face of any woman except those of his nearest relations), when he rises to preach, finds him­self confronted by the beauty and fashion of the city in their best attire, is it strange that he should be confused and dis­turbed? And, moreover, the veil is as necessary for the modest female, who desires to worship in purity and peace, as it is for the “angel.” Secluded by the rigid laws of Eastern society from familiar association with all men except near relatives, so that she would be overwhelmed with con­fusion should her veil fall in the presence of a stranger; it is no reflection upon her purity of mind, but the contrary, that she can not appear unveiled before the “angel” with that entire composure which becomes the house of God. Such will wear the veil from choice. Change the state of society (and in many places it is being changed), educate the females (and the males too), let the community be pure from Mos­lem and heathen mixtures, and trained to free and becom­ing social intercourse, and then neither men nor women will think of veils and screens, nor need these apostolic direc­tions in their exact letter. Their spirit, however, will al­ways be obligatory in every country and all states of so­ciety; and a little more modesty in female attire would be a very happy improvement in many a Western congrega­tion. But it is time we turn our steps homeward. The muezzin calls to sunset prayers from this tall minaret, and dinner will be waiting. As in ancient times, men now eat when the day’s work is done.


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“Seeing is believing,” says the proverb, and it is under­standing also. I have read all my life about crooked, nar­row streets, with the gutters in the middle, and no side­walks, but I never understood till now. How are we to get past this line of loaded camels? Well, by bowing the head, creeping under, and dodging from side to side, we have accomplished that feat; but here is a string of donkeys carrying brush and water; their bundles actually sweep both sides of the street, and the ground too; there can be no creeping under this time.

 

LB12StreetCrowd.png

 

True; but here is a recess in the wall into which we can step until they have passed by.

 

What is that fellow shouting all the while at the top of his voice?

 

He cries Daharak! wȗshhak! daharak! wȗshhak! “your back! your face! your back! your face!” to warn all concerned to look sharply before and behind, or they may be run over, crushed against the wall, or have their clothes and faces tom by this brush: a very necessary admonition.

 

That I perceive well enough; but are all Oriental cities built after this fashion—streets eight feet wide, houses sixty feet high, with dead stone walls without ornament or relief of any kind? They are sad and sombre at best, and must be particularly so at night. Already the shades of evening fall heavily along these gloomy avenues, and I see no pro­vision for lighting them.

 

There is none; and you observe that the shopkeepers are already shutting up, and leaving for home. Thenceforward until morning the streets are deserted and silent, with only here and there a company returning from a visit, with a ser­vant bearing a lantern before them. The city guard creeps softly about in utter darkness, and apprehends all found walking the streets without a light.

 

Remember, and act ac­cordingly, or you may get locked up in quarters not very comfortable. Beirȗt is gradually departing from some of these customs, but enough remain to afford a type of all you will see elsewhere, except at Damascus. The style of that city is wholly different, and carries one back as by enchant­ment to the age of the Califs and the fantastic creations of the “Thousand Nights.”

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II. BEIRUTContinued.

 

January 25th.

 

How is it that you never told me in any of your letters that Beirȗt is such a beautiful place?

 

I did; but you could not understand, and no wonder. Neither pen nor pencil can do justice to Beirȗt. Things hereabouts are on a scale so vast, and there is such an infi­nite variety in the details, that it is almost impossible to select, group together, and condense into reasonable limits enough to give an adequate idea of the whole.

 

That I can readily believe; and yet I am unwilling to pass away from Beirȗt without imprinting on memory’s tablet a fairer, truer copy of her charming scenery than I have yet obtained.

 

Follow me, then, to the terrace of our house. It commands the whole prospect. The city and suburbs, as you perceive, are situated on the northern slopes of a triangular plain, whose base line is the shore, from Ras Beirȗt to Nahr Yȃbis, some six miles toward Sidon. The perpendicular runs in eastward from the Ras about five miles to the foot of Lebanon, at the bottom of St. George’s Bay. The hypothenuse is the irregular line of the mountains. The whole plain is a projection seaward from the general direction of the coast, and along the base of the hills it is so low as to appear like an island to one sailing up from Sidon. The surface rises gradually from the south to the immediate vi­cinity of the city, where it is about three hundred feet above the sea. Thence it falls rapidly down toward the roadstead on the north by abrupt, irregular, and winding terraces. It is this feature that imparts such variety and beauty to the environs of Beirȗt. The substratum of this plain is every where a white marl, passing into compact limestone, and in­closing nodules of flint and thin seams of chert, similar to the adjoining hills of Lebanon. Upon this rests a very large formation of arenaceous, unstratified stone, easily wrought, and hence used from time immemorial for building. It is mixed with comminuted shells and corals, is very porous, and absorbs water with great rapidity, which renders the houses damp in winter. This, indeed, is almost the only defect in this otherwise admirable building stone. The quarries are to the southwest of the city, and from them a broad belt of loose, movable sand stretches inward from the shore, quite down to the point at Nahr Yȃbis. The south-eastern part of the plain is one dense olive grove, the largest and most productive in Syria. In the centre are beautiful pine forests, planted, or rather sowed by successive governors at different times, from the famous Druse chief, Fakhr ed Dȋn to Wamic Pasha, the present representative of the Sublime Porte at Beirȗt. There are a few orange and lemon gardens, where they can be irrigated. Figs, almonds, and apricots abound, and in certain parts

 

“The palm-tree rears his stately head on high,

And spreads his feathery plume along the sky;"

 

while the mulberry, melia, kharȗb, sycamore, prickly oak, and many a tree and shrub of humbler name, cast abroad their grateful shade, and draw their green mantles over our lovely suburbs. Seen from any point, Beirȗt is charming. Many, however, are best pleased with the view from the roadstead north of the city.

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I am one of those; as our steamer came bravely into har­bor at early dawn, the scenery was beautiful, and even sublime. Good old Lebanon, with a diadem of stars around his snowy turban, looked for all the world like some august monarch of the universe, with his head in heaven and his feet upon the sea, and I could and did salute him with pro­found respect; laugh at me if you please, but I could not help it. And as morning grew into bright and glorious day, what a charming panorama was revealed all around the city!


 


The deep Bay of St. George sweeping around the base of the hills; the mountains of Metn and the Kesrawan on the east and northeast, rugged, steep, and lofty, shaded with pine forests, and dotted with villages, churches, and con­vents; the wild gorge of the Dog River, with snowy Sunnȋn beyond and above; the sandy ridge of Brumanah, and Deir el Kŭlȃh, with the deep ravine of Nahr Beirȗt; the hills of El Ghŭrb, bold and bright against the southern sky, from Aleih to Abeȋh, with hamlets, and factories, and or­chards peeping over the smiling suburbs; and the city it­self, with white houses seated seaward on overhanging cliffs, or grouped on showy terraces and commanding hill-tops, or stowed away along retiring glens, half revealed, now quite concealed by crowding mulberry and parasol China trees, and waving festoons of vines and cunning creepers of many colors—this, this is Beirȗt, with the glorious Mediterranean all around, and ships and boats of various nations and pic­turesque patterns sailing or at rest. You will travel far ere you find a prospect of equal variety, beauty, and magnificence.


 


Is Beirȗt mentioned in the Bible?


 


I think not. It is possible that the Berothai of 2 Samuel 8:8, from which David took exceeding much brass, was Beirȗt, though that city seems to have been situated to the east or southeast of Hamath; still, since Hadadezer was either king of Damascus, or in close alliance with it, Berothai may have been her sea-port, as Beirȗt is now; and after David had conquered Damascus, he might naturally enough cross over Lebanon to her sea-port, where so much of her wealth would be collected. It is not at all likely that the Berothah mentioned in Ezekiel 47:16, as one of the points in the northern boundary of the land of Israel, was our city; and from the similarity of names, and the appa­rent geographical position of both, we can scarcely doubt but that Ezekiel’s Berothah and Samuel’s Berothai were identical, and, of course, that neither of them was Beirȗt.


 


Dr. Wilson suggests that our city derived its name from Berȗth, the wife of Elion, who dwelt at Byblus (Jebail), and if the chronicle of Sanchoniatho could be depended upon, I should have little hesitation in adopting the idea. This would give it a very high antiquity. This much is certain, that, at the time when the fragments of Sanchoniatho were forged, if they are a fabrication, Beirȗt was an important city, for it is repeatedly mentioned in them. Bochart and others are of opinion that the Baal-berith of Judges 8:33, was the god Baal of the city of Berith, or Beirȗt. Nor is this supposition too far-fetched to merit con­sideration; for we know, not merely from these fragments of Sanchoniatho, but from other ancient authors, that the chief seat of Baal worship was in the regions around Byblus and Beirȗt. Intelligent natives say that the name is de­rived from beer, the word for well in nearly all the Shemitic dialects. Beirȗt would then be the city of wells, and such it pre-eminently is. Almost every house has one. They vary in depth from twenty to one hundred and fifty feet, according to position.


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After all that can be said, or even surmised, the student of our city’s ancient story is surprised and disappointed to find her origin enveloped in such utter obscurity, and sighs for records which, must once have existed, but are now for­ever lost. It is not to be believed that a spot so admirably adapted for a great city should have been neglected by the Phœnicians. Every foot of this densely crowded coast, and especially every available sea-port, was appropriated by that enterprising people. And this is decidedly the most beau­tiful and healthy locality at the head of the Mediterranean. The roadstead, it is true, is better adapted to modem ship­ping than to that of ancient times; but still there are small inlets and sheltered coves too valuable to be overlooked on a coast where there are no good harbors. We may safely conclude, therefore, that it was occupied at a very early day by a colony, probably from Sidon, with which it has ever been closely connected. Accordingly, the earliest mention of Beirȗt by Greek and Latin geographers and historians implies that it was then, and had been previously, a place of importance. And this position it maintains ever after, as may be gathered from Strabo, Ptolemy, Pliny, Josephus, and other authors, both heathen and Christian. It became a Roman colony in the reign of Augustus, and had Julia Felix added to its name. Agrippa adorned and beautified it with colonnades, porticoes, theatres, baths, and other public buildings, and their remains are scattered over the gardens, and entombed beneath the rubbish of the ancient city. The number of large columns of both gray and red granite built into the quay is surprising, but a far greater number lie at the bottom of the sea in front of the town. In 1839-40, Mahmud Bey, governor of Beirȗt, built a break-water en­tirely of these columns, fished up from the floor of the har­bor. The unparalleled storm at the close of 1840 overturn­ed this wall of columns, and spread them out again where they had been before. Probably this was only the repeti­tion of a former attempt to protect the quay of Beirȗt, when these columns were gathered from the ruins of the city and cast into the sea for that purpose. It is otherwise difficult to account for their being there at all. There is a tradition that Fakhr ed Dȋn filled up the harbor to prevent the land­ing of pirates; but, if there is any foundation for the report, His work is probably to be found in the heaps of rubbish directly in front of the landing.


 


It was in the theatres of Agrippa, I suppose, that Titus celebrated his own victories over Jerusalem, and his father’s birth-day, by gladiatorial shows, in which the miserable cap­tives of Zion perished in great numbers, fighting with wild beasts and with one another, as Josephus informs us in the seventh book of his “Wars.”


 


Though the apostles seem never to have visited Beirȗt— a fact somewhat remarkable — yet Christianity was early planted here, and so flourished that it soon became the seat of a bishopric. Under the Christian emperors, it continued to prosper down to the reign of Justinian. It was then one of the most celebrated seats of learning in the empire, and its law-school was frequented by youth from the first families in the state. Then, as now, it was the most beautiful city on this coast. But its decline commenced under this reign. On the 9th of July, A.D. 551, one of those awful earthquakes, which repeatedly shook the whole Roman world in the time of Justinian, seems to have entirely de­stroyed Beirȗt, overthrew her colleges, churches, temples, theatres, and palaces, and buried multitudes of all classes be­neath the ruins; and, although the city was rebuilt, it never regained its former magnificence. You can scarcely walk through a garden, or dig a foundation for a house, without coming upon the memorials of this dreadful calamity. It is amazing to see how deeply some of these ruins are en­tombed, suggesting the idea that the very terraces on which these costly structures stood were upheaved and precipi­tated on those below. And this corresponds with the his­tory of that fearful time. We are told that “enormous chasms were opened, huge and heavy bodies were dis­charged into the air, the sea alternately advanced and re­treated beyond its ordinary bounds,” and a mountain was tom from yonder bold promontory (then called Theoprosopon, and now Ras es Shukkah), and cast into the sea, where it formed a mole for the harbor of Butrōne. Perhaps the Arabic name, Ras es Shukkah—the cape that was split open —may be a memento and witness to this catastrophe.


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During the Middle Ages, Beirȗt shared in all the troubles and revolutions which accompanied and grew out of the tri­umph of Mohammedanism, including the crusades of the eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth centuries. It was taken by Baldwin in 1110, and, during the two hundred years of Frank rule on this coast, it was several times captured and recaptured by Saracen and Christian. Since the close of the thirteenth century, few signal events have happened to vary the monotony of her story. But we must not forget to mention that exploit which was considered her greatest glory in the days of legendary lore. It was here that St. George killed the dragon; exactly when, or what particular dragon I know not, but he must have killed him, for he has never been seen since that time, and all agree that he is dead. If you doubt, I refer you to the deep bay down yon­der, which owes its name to this contest on its shore. I can show you the well into which the victorious saint cast the horrid monster, and the spot where he washed his bloody hands after this dirty work was done. Not every legend of those days of facile faith is so strongly attested. In the eighth century, also, an illustrious miracle spread the name and fame of our good city far and wide. Some image-hating Hebrews, in scorn and mockery, attempted to go through the acts of the Crucifixion upon a very holy image and cross; when, as they thrust a spear into the side, to their confusion and horror, a large quantity of blood and water gushed forth. The thing is at least possible, and without resorting to su­pernatural interference. A little manoeuvring, or a little money, could set either real or spurious Jews at work in the exact way to bring on the catastrophe. But let that pass; Beirȗt has no need of such doubtful claims to immortality. Judging from the scanty and indefinite notices by the pil­grims of the mediӕval ages, the number of her inhabitants varied from 5000 to 10,000, engaged in commerce and in growing silk and oil, which for several centuries have con­tinued to be the staple productions of this neighborhood.

 

Within the last thirty years our city has rapidly increased in population, commerce, and wealth. When Mohammed Aly wrested Syria from the Sultan in 1830-81, he made Beirȗt the grand quarantine station on this coast, and obliged all ships to come to her port. European merchants had al­ready selected it for the seat of their operations, and, as the foreign consuls settled in this city, the government was led to make it the capital of the country. Thirty years ago the population was 5000, and the shops and markets were dependent for supplies on Sidon; now there are not less than 40,000 inhabitants, and Sidon is wholly dependent on Beirȗt. Thirty years ago there was scarcely a decent house outside of the walls; now two thirds of the population re­side in the gardens, and hundreds of convenient dwellings, and not a few large and noble mansions, adorn the charm­ing suburbs. No city in Syria, perhaps none in the Turk­ish empire, has had so rapid an expansion. And it must continue to grow and prosper, with but one proviso to cast a shade of doubt upon her bright future. Should a rail­road ever connect the head of this sea with the Euphrates and the Persian Gulf, that will infallibly dictate where the emporium of Syria is to be. If Beirȗt can attract this mighty line of trade and travel to her door, she will quick­ly take rank among the great cities of the world; if she will not, or can not, then must she wane before some other ris­ing queen of the East.

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Are there any antiquities about Beirȗt which merit attention?


 


Very few. We have columns and sarcophagi in abund­ance, and some of them have inscriptions which tell their own story. An ancient aqueduct has lately been discover­ed, cut through the rock, and passing beneath the city at Bab Yacōb. It must either have had a more permanent supply than the present, which fails in dry weather, when it is most needed, or have been connected with the great canal which brought water from Lebanon to ancient Berytus.


Are the existing remains of this ancient work extensive?


 


More so than travelers, or even natives, are aware of. On the top of that dark, sandy ridge of Lebanon, to the northeast of Brŭmmanah, is a fountain of delicious water. It was conducted in stone tubes along the ridge southwest for six or eight miles to the temple that occupied the place of Deir el Kŭlah. From thence it descended the steep mountain, about fifteen hundred feet, in a direction nearly west, where it was carried over the river of Beirȗt on a series of lofty arches. The highest tier numbers twenty-five, and the canal upon them was one hundred and sixty feet above the bed of the river. The next tier below has fifteen arches; the third has only three, and the lowest two. The wall is twen­ty feet broad, and is built of well-cut stone; altogether a very imposing structure. Though carried over the river at so great an elevation, the canal meets, on the Beirȗt or west side, with perpendicular cliffs, and passes directly through them by a tunnel cut in the solid rock. I once crept into it for thirty or forty feet, beyond which it is choked up with rubbish. Descending to the margin of the plain, the ca­nal was led along the base of the hills southward, past the Khan es Shȋȃhh, and thence westward to the vicinity of Beirȗt, and the water was distributed by many pipes to va­rious parts of the city. As the plain west of Es Shȋȃhh is very low, the canal had to be elevated by a long line of arches, erected upon an immense wall. This was built solid throughout, of large, accurately cut stone, after the Roman style, and about forty feet broad. No traces of the arches remain, except masses of tufaceous deposit formed by the trickling of the water through the aqueduct, as is seen along the ancient canals of Tyre and Acre. The wall itself, how­ever, was nearly entire when I first came to this country; but the rapid growth of Beirȗt created such a demand for building-stone that the greater part of it has been quarried and brought to the city. In this process, palm and olive trees, which had grown old upon the top, have been under­mined and thrown away; and where the work of quarry­ing has been completed, the ground has been leveled, and orchards of mulberry-trees are now flourishing. What a pity! Beirȗt now greatly needs just the supply of water which this noble canal once brought to it, and a moderate expense would have restored it to its former use. But this is only one of a thousand of Syria’s sad desolations. The Arabs, as a matter of course, ascribe this aqueduct to Zobeȋda, a sort of Moslem St. Helena, according to popular le­gends, but, in historic truth, the wife of Haroun er Raschȋd. It is quite impossible to ascertain who constructed it; but, whether made by Phœnicians, Greeks, or Romans, it was an admirable work, and a great blessing to Beirȗt. The entire length can not be less than twenty miles, and the starting-point is at least two thousand feet above the sea.


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