\Jniv. of III. Library 51 / THE JEWISH CHURCH. LECTURES ON THE HISTORY OF THE EASTERN CHURCH, with an Introduction on the Study of Ecclesiastical History. By A. P. Stanley, D. D., author of “ Sinai and Palestine,” etc. In 1 vol., octavo, with Map of the Eastern Churches. Cloth, gilt. Price, $3.50. HON. GEO. P. MARSH'S NEW WORK. THE ORIGIN AND HISTORY OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE, and the Early Literature it embodies. By Hon. G. P. Marsh. 1 vol., octavo. $3.50. A NEW edition op LECTURES ON THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. By Hon. Geo. P. Marsh. 1 vol., octavo. $3.50. THE LIFE OF OUR LORD UPON THE EARTH considered in its Historical, Chronological, and Geographical Relations. By Rev. S. J. Andrews. In 1 vol., post-octavo, 650 pages. Price, $2.25. LECTURES ON THE SCIENCE OF LANGUAGE. By Max Muller, M. A. From the second revised London edition. 1 vol., large duodecimo. Printed at the Riverside Press, on laid tinted paper. Price, $1.88. ■ ♦ Copies of these boohs sent by mail, postpaid, on receipt of price. —♦— C. SCRIBNER, Publisher, N. Y. * 3 Re plia ishtervlj /Vinurim o no ARGOTS tig/Urtti- , ; %'viiv V'/Mf fttrZtt (ifra r ° ■■■ A/nm -rtf/Jf/ifp-"' .: ^VH/- ,f Hor(h/ifie. '/IH\\*' ' I >>•('. niiiirf ''iimw"'' PALESTINE UK FORK I’ (ONOUEST | h i"I.. WWrs,, ‘Gu'c/iemish \W\Uto. 2 ^%: ''■/in r ,f/i\ A^asctB < - l \ y% smiitii" .. Usrhirn oP Greenwich 1jon£itmle East Major &. tifUivv. 44,4 _Z> roadway Wo-rTc Lect. I. THE MIGRATION. 5 they open, even to the very close of the history, of which this was the first beginning! Let us then follow the example of the sacred narra¬ tive by drawing out both these views of the event. Take, first, its outward character as a national or mi¬ gratory movement. I. The name of Abraham, as we shall afterwards see more fully, is not confined to the Sacred His- The Migra _ tory. Over and above the Book of Genesis, tion - there are two main sources of information. We have the fragments preserved to us by Josephus and Eusebius from Greek or Asiatic writers. We have also the Jew¬ ish and Mussulman traditions, as represented chiefly in the Talmud and the Koran. It is in the former class — those presented to us by the Pagan historians — that the migration of Abraham assumes its most purely secu¬ lar aspect. They describe him as a great man of the East, well read in the stars, or as a conquering Prince who swept all before him on his way to Palestine. These characteristics, remote as they are from our com¬ mon view, have nevertheless their point of contact with the Biblical account, which, simple as it is, implies more than it states. In the darkness of this distant past, the most distinct images we can now hope to recall are those of IJrofthe the place and scene of the event. Where was Chaldees - “ Ur of the Chaldees ? ” 1 It would seem at first sight as if this, the most solid footing on which we could rely, shifted beneath our feet so rapidly as to deprive us of any standing ground whatever. The name itself of “ Chasdim ” or “ Chaldsea ” has, in the progress of centu¬ ries, descended like a landslip from the northern Arme- 1 “Ur Chasdim,” i. e. “ Ur of the people of Chesed” — as it is expressed in the original. 6 THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. Lect. I nian mountains; to which it originally belonged, into the southern limits of Mesopotamia, which claimed it in after-times. This is the first source of confusion. Is it the northern or southern, the ancient or the more recent Chaldsea, of which we are speaking ? But, besides this, the name of Ur also seems to have^been sown broadcast over the whole region. One is pointed out near Nisi- bis, another near Nineveh; a third and fourth have lately been found in the neighborhood of Babylon. It is perhaps the most probable solution that the name originally meant (as the Septuagint translators have ren¬ dered it) a country rather than a place. But no argu¬ ments advanced, even by the high authority of recent discoverers, seem as yet sufficiently established to dis¬ turb the old and general tradition which fixes the chief centre of the early movements of the tribe of Abraham at the place variously known as Orfa, Roha, Orchoe, Callirhoe, Chaldseopolis, Edessa, Antioch of the far East, Erech , 1 Ur; and, were it more in doubt than it is, the singular ecclesiastical position occupied by this city of many names calls for a few words in passing. In Christian times, it was celebrated as the capital of orfa. Abgarus, Agbarus, or Akbar, who received, according to the ancient tradition, the letter and por¬ trait of our Saviour , 2 and thus became the first Christian king. Gradually it was invested with a sacred preemi¬ nence, as the cradle, the university, the metropolis of the Christianity of the remote East. Within its walls lived and died and is buried the chief saint of the Syrian Church, Ephrem, Deacon of Edessa. In its neighbor- 1 Bayer, Historia Osrhoene et Edes- messenger, attacked by thieves, drop- sena, 3. ped the letter, which gave the spring 2 A well was shown in Pococke’s a miraculous character, time ( Travels , i 160), in which the Lect. I. UR OF THE CHALDEES. 7 hood, in strange conformity with its earliest history wandered a race of hermits, not monastic or coenobitic, but nomadic and pastoral, who took to the desert life, and almost 1 literally grazed like sheep on the desert herbage. In later times, yet again, it became the seat of a Christian principality under the chiefs of the First Crusade. But whilst these later glories of Edessa are gathered from books, the stories of Abraham alone still live in the mouths of the Arab inhabitants of Orfa, and in the peculiarities of its remarkable situation. The city lies on the edge of one of the bare, rugged spurs which descend from the mountains of Armenia into the Assyrian plains , 2 in the cultivated land which, as lying under those mountains, is called Padan-Aram. Two physical features must have secured it, from the earliest times, as a nucleus for the civilization of those regions. One is a high crested crag, the natural for¬ tification of the present citadel, doubly defended by a trench of immense depth, cut out of the living rock behind it. The other is an abundant spring , 3 issuing in a pool of transparent clearness, and embosomed in a mass of luxuriant verdure, which, amidst the dull brown desert all around, makes, and must always have made, this spot an oasis, a paradise, in the Chaldaean wilderness. Round this sacred pool, “ The Beautiful Spring,” “Callirhoe,” as it was called by the Greek writers, gather the modern traditions of the Patriarch. Hard by, amidst its cypresses, is the mosque on the spot where he is said to have offered his first prayer: the cool spring itself burst forth in the midst of 1 Tillemont, S. Ephrem , ch. 16, 17. 3 At times it swells into a flood, 2 Olivier ( Voyage a Syrie, iv. 329) and is hence called Daizon or Scirtua gives a good description of the several ( “ the leaper ” ), Bayer, 14. zones of Mesopotamia. 8 THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. Lect. I. the fiery furnace 1 which the infidels had kindled to burn him; its sacred fish, swarming by thousands and thousands, from their long-continued preservation, are cherished by the faithful as under his special patron¬ age; the two Corinthian columns which stand on the crag above are made to commemorate his deliverance. In the first centuries of the Christian era we know that other memorials of the Patriarchal age were pointed out. The year of Abraham was long adopted in Edessa as the epoch of its dates . 2 Josephus speaks of the sepulchre of Haran, still shown in his time at Ur; Eusebius 3 speaks of the tent which Jacob inhab¬ ited whilst feeding the flocks of Laban, as preserved till it was accidentally burnt by lightning in the second century. But, apart from all such transitory and doubtful reminiscences as these, we may well be¬ lieve that the high rock, the clear spring, the burst of verdure, must have as truly made this (such might be a possible interpretation of the name) “ the light of the race of Arphaxad” (Ur Chasdim), as the like circumstances made Damascus “ the eye of the East;” and amongst the countless sepulchres which fill the rocky hill 4 behind the city, some may reach back to the earliest times of human habitation and interment. From this spot, invested with a tender attractiveness from which even the passing traveller 5 reluctantly tears himself away, we may believe that the family of Abraham were called. Was it, as according to u Jose- 1 This probably arose from a mis- 4 It is now called “ Top-dag,” the conception of the words “ He came hill of the cannon. Olivier, iv. 226. “ out of Ur,” i. e. “ the light,” or 5 I owe this, and much else of the ' l fire.” impressions of Orfa (which I have not 2 Bayer, 24. myself visited), to the kind informa- 3 Chron. 22. tion of two recent travellers. Lect. I. HARAN. 9 phus ,” 1 the grief of Terah over the untimely death of Haran ? Was it, as according to the tradition fob lowed by Stephen, that the higher call had already been made to Abraham ? 2 We know not. We are told only that they went southward: they went upon the track which Chaldaeans, and Medes, and Persians, and Curds, and Tartars, afterwards in long succession followed, as if towards the rich plains of Nineveh or of Babylon. One day’s journey from Ur, if Orfa be Ur, was the spot which they chose for their encampment 3 Haran. — Haran, Charran, Carrhae. That it was a place of note may be gathered from its long-continued name and fame in later days. As the sanctuary of the Moon goddess, it was, far into the Roman Empire, regarded as the centre of Eastern Paganism, in rivalry to Edessa, the centre of Eastern Christendom. It was the scene, too, of the memorable defeat of Cras- sus. But no modern traveller, up to the present time, has left a written account of this world-old place. There is hardly anything to tell us why it was fixed upon either as the scene of that fierce conflict, or as the scene of the Patriarchal settlement. Only we observe that it is the point of divergence between the great 4 caravan routes towards the various fords of the Euphrates on the one hand, and the Tigris on the other; and therefore must have had some marked features to make it a fitting encampment both for Roman general and Chaldaean Patriarch. Beside the 1 Jos. Ant. i. 7, 1. 2 Acts vii. 4. Philo, i. 464; per¬ haps Neh. ix. 7. 3 Visible from Orfa almost at all times (Ainsworth, Assyria, Babylonia, Chaldcea, 153), The surrounding country is well described in Merivale’s Hist, of Romans under the Empire, i. 520, and, with elaborate learning, ir. Chwolson’s Ssabier , i. 304. 4 Ritter, vii. 296. As such it seemj to be mentioned in Ezekiel xxvii. 23. 10 THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. Lect. L settlement, too, were the wells , 1 round which for the next generations one large portion of the tribe of Terah continued to linger; and the settlers in the distant west are described as still retaining their affec¬ tion for the ancient sanctuary , 2 where the father of their race was buried, and whence they sought, ac¬ cording to the true Arabian usage, their own kins¬ women and cousins in marriage. But for the highest spirit of the Patriarchal family Passage Haran could not be a permanent abiding-place. Euphrates. 6( The great river,” “ the river,” as his de¬ scendants called it, the river Euphrates, rolled its vast boundary of waters between him and the remote coun¬ try to which his steps were bent. Two days’ journey brought him to the high chalk cliffs which overlook the wide western desert. Broad and strong lay the great stream beneath and between. He crossed over it, probably near the same point where it is still forded . 3 He crossed it, and became (such at least was one interpretation always put upon the word) Abraham, “ the Hebrew” the man who had crossed 4 the river flood — the man who came from beyond the Eu¬ phrates. For seven days’journey 5 or more, the caravan would Damascus, advance along what is still the main desert road to Syria. Nothing is said in history of their route. It is but an etymological legend which con¬ nects Aleppo 6 with the herds of the Patriarch’s pas- 1 Nieb. Trav. ii. 410. Gen. xxix. 2. 4 LXX. Gen. xiv. 13, 6 tt epdrijc, 2 Gen. xi. 31, xxix. 4. Ewald, Renan, Langues Semitiques , i. 108. Geschichte, i. 4t\S. 5 Gen. xxxi. 23. Ritter, West Asia, 3 Zeugma, the ancient passage, was vii. 296. a little west of the present passage at 6 “ Haleb,” the milk of Abraham’s Birs. Olivier (iv. 215) compares it in cow. See the legend in Porter’s size and rapidity to the Rhone. Handbook of Syria , 613. Lect. I. HIS OUTWARD APPEARANCE. 11 toral tribe. They neared the range of the Lebanon which screened the Holy Land from their view; and underneath its shade they rested, for the last time, in Damascus . 1 It is curious that whilst the connection of Abraham with this most ancient of cities is almost entirely derived from extraneous sources, it is yet sufficiently confirmed by the sacred narrative to be worthy of credit. “ Abraham,” we are told, “ was king “of Damascus .” 2 He had crossed the desert with his tribe, as not many years afterwards came Chedorlao- mer and the kings of the East; and, as they descended on the green oasis of Siddim, so this earlier conqueror established himself in the green oasis of Damascus, the likeness, on a larger scale, of his own native Ur. In later ages his name was still honored in the region; and a spot pointed out as “ Abraham’s dwelling-place.” And in the primitive play on the name 3 of Abraham’s faithful slave, preserved in the sacred record, we have a guaranty of the close tie which subsisted between the patriarch and his earliest conquest. “Eliezer of Damascus” was the lasting trophy of his victory. As we pause at the last halting-place before his entrance into Palestine, let us look more fully in the face the great character that we have brought thus far on his way. Not many years ago much offence was given by one, now a high dignitary in the English Likeness to Church, who ventured to suggest the original chiefs. 1 Compare the descent of the Ara¬ maeans on Damascus from Kir in Ar¬ menia, Amos ix. 7. 2 Justin, xxxvi. 2. Nicolaus of Damascus (Jos. Ant. i. 7, 2). 3 Gen. xv. 2. Ewald, i. 366. It is lost in the English, but preserved in the Greek, version — “ This son of “ Masek is Damasek Eliezer.” The Arab tradition makes Eliezer’s name to have been “ Dimshak,” and the origin of the name of the city. D’Her- belot, “ Abraham” and “ Damaschk,” i. 209. 12 i THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. Lect. I, likeness of Abraham, by calling him a Bedouin Sheik. It is one advantage flowing from the multiplication of Eastern travels that such offence could now no longer be taken. Every English pilgrim to the Holy Land, even the most reverential and the most fastidious, is delighted to trace and to record the likeness of patriarchal manners and costumes in the Arabian chiefs. To refuse to do so would be to decline the use of what we may almost call a singular gift of Providence. The unchanged habits of the East render it in this respect a kind of living Pompeii. The outward appearances, which in the case of the Greeks and Romans we know only through art and writing, through marble, fresco, and parchment, in the case of Jewish history we know through the forms of actual men, living and moving before us, wearing almost the same garb, speaking in almost the same language, and certainly with the same general turns of speech and tone and manners. Such as we see them now, starting on a pilgrimage or a journey, were Abraham and his sister’s son, when they “ went “ forth ” to go into the land of Canaan. “ All their a substance that they had gathered ” is heaped high on the backs of their kneeling camels. The “ slaves “ that they had bought in Haran ” run along by their sides. Round about them are their flocks of sheep and goats, and the asses moving underneath the tow¬ ering forms of the camels. The chief is there, amidst the stir of movement, or resting at noon within his black tent, marked out from the rest by his cloak of brilliant scarlet, by the fillet of rope which binds the loose handkerchief round his head, by the spear which he holds in his hand to guide the march, and to fix the encampment. The chief’s wife, the princess 1 of 1 “ Sarah ” = princess. “ Sarai ” = my princess. Lect. I. HIS OUTWARD APPEARANCE. 13 the tribe, is there in her 1 own tent, to make the cakes, and prepare the usual meal 2 of milk and but¬ ter; the slave or the child is ready to bring in the red 3 lentile soup for the weary hunter, or to kill the calf for the unexpected guest . 4 Even the ordinary social state is the same: polygamy, slavery, the ex¬ clusiveness of family ties; the period of service for the dowry of a wife; the solemn obligations of hospi¬ tality; the temptations, easily followed, into craft or falsehood. In every aspect, except that which most concerns us, the likeness is complete between the Bedouin chief of the present day, and the Bedouin chief who came from Chaldaea nearly four thousand years ago. In every aspect but one ; and that one contrast is set off in the highest degree by the resemblance of all besides. The more we see the outward conformity of Abraham and his immediate descendants to the godless, grasping, foul-mouthed Arabs of the modern desert, nay even their fellowship in the infirmities of their common state and country, the more we shall recognize the force of the religious faith, which has raised them from that low estate to be the heroes and saints of their people, the spiritual fathers of European religion and civilization. The hands are the hands of the Bed¬ ouin Esau; but the voice is the voice of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, — the voice which still makes itself heard across deserts and continents and seas; heard wherever there is a conscience to listen, or an imag¬ ination to be pleased, or a sense of reverence left amongst mankind. Gen. xxiv. 67. 4 p or the Arab life in Chaldaea, 2 Gen. xviii. 2-8. see Loftus, Chaldcea and Susiana , 3 Gen. xxv. 34. 156. 14 THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. Lect. 1 II. What then is the position which has been accorded to Abraham by the general witness of his¬ tory ? What was it which caused his own nation to make their highest boast of a descent 1 from him ? which caused them to look forward to the rest in his bosom 2 as the fitting repose of wearied souls that have escaped from the toil of their earthly pilgrimage ? The answer may best be given by considering the two names by which he is known in the traditions of the East, and which, though they only occur once or twice in Scripture, yet so well correspond to its whole representation of Abraham, that they may fitly be taken as his distinguishing characteristics. 1. First, he is “ the Friend of God.” “ El-Khalil-Allah,” The Friend or ? as h e 1S more usually called, “ El-Khalil,” sim- °f God. piy ? « the Friend,” 3 is a title which has in Mus¬ sulman countries superseded altogether his own proper name. In many ways it has a peculiar significance. It is, in its most general aspect, an illustration of the difference which has been well remarked between the early beginnings of Jewish history and those of any other ancient nation. Grant to the uttermost the un¬ certain, shadowy, fragmentary character of these prim¬ itive records, yet there is one point brought out 1 It was a tradition that the Hebrew letters were given by him; and that Alepli stood first as being the first let¬ ter of his name. (Suidas in voce “ Abraham.”) Artapanus (in Eus. Prcep. ix. 18) derives the name “ He¬ brew ” from that of Abraham. 2 See Lightfoot on Luke xvi. 22. 3 See D’Herbelot (“Abraham”), for its precise import. The name of Abraham was interpreted by Apol¬ lonius Melon (Eus. Prcep. ix. 19) as “Friend of the Father.” In Scrip¬ ture it occurs only in James ii. 23 ; “ He was called the friend of God : ” and more doubtfully in Isaiah xli. 8 ; “ Jacob whom I have chosen, the seed “ of Abraham my friend : ” 2 Chron. xx. 7; “ The seed of Abraham my “friend.” In Clem. Rom. ( Ep . i. 10) he is called simply “ the friend,” ’ABpaup. 6 (p'tXot; TrpoaayopevBetg. In Gen. xviii. 17, Philo (i. 40) reads “friend” for “ servant.” Lect. I. HIS RELIGIOUS ASPECT. 15 clearly and distinctly. The ancestor of the Chosen People is not, as in the legends of Greece and Rome, or even of Germany, a god or a demi-god, or the son of a god: he is, as we have just observed, a mere man, a chief, such as those to whom these records were first presented must have constantly seen with their own eyes. The interval 1 between the human and the divine is never confounded. Close as are the com¬ munications with Deity, yet the Divine Essence is always veiled, the man is never absorbed into it. Abraham is “the Friend,” but he is nothing more. He is nothing more; but he is nothing less. He is “the Friend of God.” The title includes a double meaning. He is “ beloved of God.” “ Fear not, Abram, “I am thy shield and thy exceeding great reward.” He was “ chosen ” 2 by God : he was “ called ” 3 The call of by God. Although in the word “ ecclesia,” in God ’ its religious sense, the etymological meaning, as “ of an assembly called forth by the heraldf is lost in the gen¬ eral idea of “ a congregation,” yet this original mean¬ ing gives a fitness to the consideration that he who was the first in the succession of the “ ecclesia,” or “ church,” was so by virtue of what is known in all subsequent history as his “ call ” The word itself, as applied to the summons which led the Patriarch forth, rarely occurs in the sacred writers. But it gathers up in a short compass the chief meaning of his first appearance. In him was exemplified the fundamental truth of all religion, that God has not deserted the 1 This is well brought out in Dean 2 Neh. ix. 7 : “ Thou didst choose Milman’s History of the Jews , i. 23. “ Abram.” Contrast the attempt of the legends 3 Isaiah li. 2 : “I called him.” to invest Abraham with a supernatu- Heb. xi. 8 : “He was called to go ral character. “ out. 16 THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. Lect. I. / world; that His work is carried on by His chosen instruments; that good men are not only His creat¬ ures and His servants, but His friends. In those simple words in which the Biblical narrative describes “ the call,” whatever there is of truth in the predes- tinarian doctrine of Augustine and of Calvin finds its earliest expression. But the further meaning involved in the title of Abraham indicates the correlative truth, — not only was Abraham beloved by God, but God was “ beloved by him;” not only was God the Friend of Abraham, but Abraham was 66 the friend of God.” To expand this truth is to see what was the religion, the com¬ munion with the Supreme, which raised Abraham above his fellow-men. The greater histories of the Christian Church usu- Beiief in ally commence with dissertations on the state Go ward profession of faith, but precisely in that which far more nearly concerns him and every one of us, in his prayers, in his actions, in the righteousness, the “justice” (if one may again so draw out the sense of the Hebrew word 1 ), the “uprightness” the moral “ ele¬ vation ” of soul and spirit which sent him on his way straightforward, without turning to the right hand or to the left. His belief, vague, it may be, indefinite and scanty, even in the most elementary truths of religion, is in the Scriptures implied rather than stated. It is in him simply “ the evidence of things not seen,” “ the hope against hope.” His faith, in the literal sense of the word, is known to us only through “ his works.” He and his descendants are blessed, not as in the Koran, because of his adoption of the first article of the creed of Islam, but because he had “ obeyed the voice of the Lord, and kept “ His charge , His commandments , His statutes , and His “ laws.” 2 Such was the faith of the First Believer: in how many ways, an example, a consolation, a study, His univer- . ° . sal charac- to his latest descendants. And this prepares ter. us for observing that he was not only “ faithful,” but “ the Father of the Faithful.” In modern ages of the history of the Church it has too often happened that the doctrine of “ faith ” has had a narrowing effect on the conscience and feelings of those who have strongly embraced it. It was far otherwise with S. Paul, to whom it was almost synonymous with the admission of the Gentiles. It was far otherwise with its first exemplification in the life of the Patriarch Abraham. His very name implies this universal mission. “ The 1 See Gesenius, Lexicon , 854. 2 Gen. xxvi. 5 ; xviii. 19. 22 THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. Lect. I. Father” 1 (Abba); “The lofty Father” (Ab-ram); “The Father of multitudes” (Ab-raham 2 ); the venerable parent, surveying, as if from that lofty eminence, the countless progeny who should look up to him as their spiritual ancestor. He was, first, the Father of the Chosen People, the people who, by reason of their faith, though in one sense the narrowest of all ancient nations, yet were also the widest in their diffusion and dispersion, — the only people, that, by virtue of an invisible bond, maintained their national union in spite of local difference and division. But he was much more than the Father of the Chosen People. It is not a mere allegory or accidental application of separate texts, that justifies S. Paul’s appeal to the case of Abraham as including within itself the faith of the whole Gentile world. His position, as repre¬ sented to us in the original records, is of itself far wider than that of any merely Jewish saint or national hero; and he is, on that ground alone, the fitting im¬ age to meet us at the outset of the history of the Church. He, the founder of the Jewish race, was yet, by the confession of their own annals, not a Jew, nor the father exclusively of Jews. He was “ the He¬ brew,” to whom, both in the Biblical record 3 and their own traditions, the Arabian no less than the Israelite tribes look back as to their first ancestor. The scene of his life, as of the Patriarchs generally, breathes a larger atmosphere than the contracted limits of Pal¬ estine,— the free air of the plains of Mesopotamia 1 According to the Persian tradi- (hamon = multitude, as of the drops tions his name, before his conversion, of rain, the swelling of springs, the was Zerwan, “ the wealthy.” Hyde, voice of singers). Gesenius, Lexicon, Rel. Pers. 77. 281. 2 An abbreviation of rdb-hamon 3 Gen. xvi. 15; xxv. 1-6. Lect. I. HIS UNIVERSAL CHARACTER. 23 and the desert, — the neighborhood of the vast shapes of the Babylonian monarchy on one side, and of Egypt on the other. He is not an ecclesiastic, not an ascetic, not even a learned sage, but a chief, a shepherd, a warrior, full of all the affections and in¬ terests of family and household, and wealth and power, and for this very reason the first true type of the religious man, the first representative of the whole Church of God. This universality of Abraham’s faith, — this eleva¬ tion, this multitudinousness of the Patriarchal, paternal character, which his name involves, has also found a response in those later traditions and feelings of which I have before spoken. When Mahomet 1 attacks the idolatry of the Arabs, he justifies himself by argu¬ ing, almost in the language of S. Paul, that the faith which he proclaimed in One Supreme God was no new belief, but was identical with the ancient religion of their first father Abraham. When the Emperor Alex¬ ander Severus placed in the chapel of his palace the statues of the choice spirits of all times, 2 Abraham, rather than Moses, was selected, as the centre, doubt¬ less, of a more extended circle of sacred associations. When the author of the “ Liberty of Prophesying ” ventured, before any other English divine, to lift up his voice in behalf of universal religious toleration, he was glad to shelter himself under the authority of the ancient Jewish or Persian apologue, of doubtful origin, but of most instructive wisdom, of almost Scriptural simplicity, which may well be repeated here as an 1 Koran, ii. 118-126; 129, 130 ; “ tiores.” — Lamprid. Alex. Sever. Vit. iii. 30, 91. c. 20. 2 “ Optimos electos et animos sane- 24 THE CALL OF ABKAHAM. Lect. 1 expression of the world-wide sympathies which attach to the Father of the Faithful. 1 “ When Abraham sate at his tent-door, according to his “ custom, waiting to entertain strangers, he espied an old “ man stooping and leaning on his staff \ weary with age and “ travel , coming towards him, who was an hundred years of “ age. He received him kindly, washed his feet, provided sup- “ per, caused him to sit down, bid observing that the old man “ ate and prayed not, nor begged for a blessing on his meat, “ asked him why he did not worship the God of Heaven ? “ The old man told him that he worshipped the fire only, “ and acknowledged no other god; at which answer Abra- “ ham grew so zealously angry, that he thrust the old man “ out of his tent, and exposed him to all the evils of the “ night and an unguarded condition. When the old man “was gone, God called to him and asked him where the “ stranger was ; he replied: 6 I thrust him away, because he “ did not worship thee! God answered, ‘ I have suffered “ him these hundred years, though he dishonored me; and “ couldest not thou endure him for one night, when he gave “ thee no trouble ? 9 Upon this, saith the story, Abraham “fetched him back again, and gave him hospitable entertain- “ ment, and tvise instruction. Go thou and do likewise ; and “ thy charity will be rewarded by the God of Abraham ” If we may trust the ingenious conjecture of a dis- The name tinguished writer, 2 whom I have already quoted, of Eiohim. a more certain and enduring memorial has 1 The story and its origin are given in Heber’s Life of Jeremy Taylor , note xx. (Eden’s edit. vol. i. p. cccvi.), and in a letter of Mr. Everett, in the Life of Sydney Smith , 14. It was appar¬ ently told by a Jewish prisoner at Tripoli to the Persian poet Saadi whilst working as a slave, thence copied by Grotius, thence by Taylor, thence appropriated by Franklin. 2 What follows has been added, in a condensed form, from the Essay of Professor Muller on Semitic Mono¬ theism, already cited. (See p. 17.) Lect. I. HIS UNIVERSAL CHARACTER. 25 been preserved of this side of Abraham’s mission. The name by which the Deity is known throughout the patriarchal or introductory age of the Jewish Church is “ Elohim,” translated in the English version u God.” In this name has been discovered a trace of the conciliatory, comprehensive mission of the first Prophet of the true religion. a Elohim ” is a plural noun, though followed by a verb in the singular. When “Eloah” (God) was first used in the plural, it could only have signified, like any other plural, “ many Eloahs; ” and such a plural could only have been formed after the various names of God had be¬ come the names of independent deities; that is, dur¬ ing a polytheistic stage. The transition from this into the monotheistic stage could be effected only in two ways; either by denying altogether the existence of the Elohim and changing them into devils, — as was done in Persia, — or by taking a higher view, and looking upon them as so many names invented with the honest purpose of expressing the various aspects of the Deity, though in time diverted from their orig¬ inal intention. This was the view taken by Abraham. Whatever the names of the Elohim worshipped by the numerous clans of his race, Abraham saw that all the Elohim were meant for God; and thus Elohim, comprehending by one name everything that ever was or ever could be called Divine, became the name by which the monotheistic age was rightly inaugurated: a plural conceived and construed as a singular. From this point of view the Semitic name of the Deity, which at first sounds not only ungrammatical, but irrational, becomes perfectly clear and intelligible. It is at once the proof that Monotheism rose on the ruins of a polytheistic faith, and that it absorbed and 26 THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. Lect. I acknowledged the better tendencies of that faith. In the true spirit of the later Apostle of the Gentiles, Abraham, his first predecessor and model, declared the God “ w T hom they ignorantly worshipped,” to be the “ God that made the world, and all things therein,” u the Lord of heaven and earth,” “ in whom we live, “ and move, and have our being .” 1 Yet, however comprehensive is this type of the The Cove- Patriarch’s character, there is an exclusive- ^, ant ' ness also. In one point of view, u he is the Circum- # ' cision. “ Father of all them that believe, though they “ be not circumcised: ” in another point of view he is the Father of the circumcision only. That venerable rite, indeed, which in the first beginnings of Chris¬ tianity was regarded only as a mark of division and narrowness, was, in the primitive Eastern world, the sign of a proud civilization . 2 It was not only a Jew¬ ish, but an Arabian, a Phoenician, an Egyptian cus¬ tom. As such it still lingers in the Coptic and Abys¬ sinian Churches. How far < any of these countries re¬ ceived it from Abraham, or Abraham from them, is now almost as difficult to ascertain, as it is to dis¬ cern the original signification of a usage, once so honorable and so sacred, and now so entirely re¬ moved alike from honor and from sanctity. But the limitation, of w r hich, in a religious sense, it was the symbol, is expressed in a passage of the Patriarch’s life, which stands midway, as it were, between his The vision wider and his narrower call. In the visions 3 ftnd the . _ # # _ sacrifice. of the night Abraham is called forth by the / 1 Acts xvii. 23-28. 3 Gen. xv. 1. By Jewish tradition 2 See Ezekiel xxxii. 24-32, with this scene is fixed on a mountain three Ewald’s notes. Compare also Ewald’s miles north of Banias. Schwarz, Alterthiimer , 100. 302. Lect. I. ITS RELATION TO THE JEWISH CHURCH. 27 Divine voice, from the curtains of the tent, under the open sky. He is told to look towards heaven, the clear bright Eastern heaven, glittering with innumer¬ able stars, those stars which all tradition, as we have seen, has so naturally and so closely connected with the education and conversion of Abraham; the stars which have in all times taught unearthly wisdom and vastness of spiritual ideas to the mind of man. 66 Look “ toward heaven, and tell the stars, if thou be able to “ number them. So shall thy seed he.” This was, if taken in its fullest sense, that wide, incalculable, inter¬ minable view of all nations, and kindreds, and peoples, and tongues — each star differing from the other star in glory — of which we have already spoken. But the vision was not ended. He was bidden to prepare as for the peculiar forms of sacrifice which, it is said , 1 for centuries afterwards, in his own country, were used to sanction a treaty or covenant. The birds, and the fragments of the heifer and the goat, were parted, so as to leave a space for the contracting parties to pass between; and the day began to decline, and the birds of prey, of evil omen, hovered like a cloud over the carcasses; and at last the sun went down, and the heavens, so bright and clear on the preceding night, were overcast; and “ a deep sleep fell upon Abraham, 66 and lo! a horror of great darkness fell upon him.” And in that thick darkness a light, as of a blazing fire, enveloped with the smoke as of a furnace, passed through the open space, and the covenant, the first covenant, “ the Old Testament,” was concluded be¬ tween God and man. Taking these figures as they are thus shadowed forth, and in combination with the 1 See Von Bohlen’s note on Gen. scene see Koran , ii. 262, in Lane’s xv. 10. For the amplification of the Selections , 153. 28 THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. Lect. I. words which followed, they truly express the peculiar “ conditions,” to use the modern phrase, under which the history of the Chosen People was to be unfolded from its brighter and from its darker side. Darkness and light are mingled together; the bright heavens of yesterday overclouded by the horror of great dark¬ ness to-day; wheresoever the carcasses of the victims lie, the ravenous eagles are gathered together, and with difficulty scared away by the watchful protector; the light, burning in the midst of the smoke as it sweeps through the narrow pathway, is the same image that we shall meet again and again throughout the history of the Older, and of the New covenant also: the bush burning but not consumed; the pillar at once of cloud and of fire; the children in the midst of the furnace, yet without hurt; the remnant pre¬ served, though cut down to the root: exile and bond¬ age, yet constant deliverance; a narrow home, yet a vast dominion ; 1 the perverse, wayward, degraded peo¬ ple, yet the countrymen and the progenitors, after the flesh, of One in whom was brought to the high¬ est fulfilment their own union of suffering and of triumph, the thick darkness of the smoking furnace, the burning and the shining light . 2 This is the mixed prospect of the History of the Jewish Church; this is the mixed prospect, in its widest sense, of all Eccle¬ siastical History. 1 Gen. xv. 18-21. The “ river of Egypt” (here only) is the Nile. It is inserted, evidently, as the extreme western limit of Jewish thought and dominion. 2 A fine passage, which unites the thought of the vision of Gen. xv. 12, with the universal prayer of Abraham in Gen. xviii. 23, occurs in the le¬ gends (Beer’s Leben Abrahams, 88), where, after the overthrow of Jeru¬ salem, the figure of Abraham emerges from the ruins to plead for the repentance and restoration of his people. Lect. II. ABRAHAM AND ISAAC. 29 LECTURE II. ABRAHAM AND ISAAC. It is an advantage of visiting a country once civil¬ ized but since fallen back into barbarism, that The first its present aspect more nearly reproduces to us ^ a t n h c ® the appearance which it wore to its earliest Holy Land inhabitants, than had we seen it in the height of its splendor. Delphi and My cense, in their modern deso¬ lation, are far more like what they were as they burst upon the eyes of the first Grecian settlers, than at the time when they were covered by a mass of tem¬ ples and palaces. Palestine, in like manner, must ex¬ hibit at the present day a picture more nearly re¬ sembling the country as it was seen in the days of the Patriarchs, than would have been seen by David, or even by Joshua. Doubtless many of the hills which are now bare were then covered with forest; and the torrent beds which are now dry throughout the year were, at least in the winter, foaming streams. But, as far as we can trust the scanty notices, the land must have been in one important respect much what it is now. It is everywhere intimated that its population was thinly scattered over its broken surface of hill and valley. Here and there a wandering shep¬ herd, as now, must have been driving his sheep over the mountains. The smoke of some worship, now ex¬ tinct for ages, may have been seen going up from the 30 ABRAHAM AND ISAAC. lect. n. rough, upright stones, which, like those of Stonehenge or Abury, in our own country, have survived every form of civilized buildings, and remain to this day standing on the sea-coast plain of Phoenicia. Groups of wor¬ shippers must have been gathered from time to time on some of the many mountain heights, or under some of the dark clumps of ilex; “For the Canaanite w T as “ then in the land.” But the abodes of settled life are described as confined to two spots: one, the oldest city in Palestine, the city of Arba, or the Four Giants, as it was called, in the rich vale of Hebron; the other, “ the circle ” of the five cities in the vale of Jordan. These were the earliest representatives of the civil¬ ization of Canaan; the Perizzites, or, as they were usually called, “ the Hittites,” the dwellers in the open villages, who gave their name to the whole country; so much so, that the children of Heth are called “ the children of the land,” and the land itself was known both on Egyptian and Assyrian monu¬ ments as the land of “ Heth .” 1 Mingled with these, on the mountain-tops, as their name implies, were 2 the warlike Amorite chiefs, Mamre and his two broth¬ ers. Along the southern coast, and the undulating land called “ the south country,” between Palestine and the desert, were the ancient predecessors of the Philistines, probably the Avites; not, like their future conquerors, a maritime people of fortified cities, but a pastoral, nomadic race, though under a ruler entitled “king.” On the east of the Jordan, round the sanc¬ tuary of the Horned Ashtaroth, and southward as far as the Dead Sea, were remnants of the gigantic abo¬ riginal tribes, not yet ejected by the encroachments 1 Gen. xxiii. 7. See Ewald, i. 317. to in war, as the Hittites (xxiii. 7) 2 Gen. xiv. 13. They are applied in peace. Lect. II. THE HALTING-PLACES. 31 of Edom, Ammon, or Moab, — the Horites, dwellers in the caves of the distant Petra, the Emim and Zam- zummim on the east of the Jordan, and the Rephaim , 1 whose name long lingered in the memory of the later inhabitants, and was used to describe the shades of the world beyond the grave. I. Such must have been the general outline of Pal¬ estine when Abraham “passed over” from Damascus, and “ passed through the land.” Let us briefly Halting _ note his halting-places, as he roves, almost at places - will, through the unknown country to which we are specially invited by the Sacred narrative, and also by the account of the Patriarchal wanderings in the speech 2 of S. Stephen, which gives us a warrant, even from a higher point of view, for touching on these rapid transitions from place to place. They bring before us the point often forgotten, which that great precursor of S. Paul was specially endeavoring to impress upon his hearers, that the migration was still going on: that the Patriarch “ had no inheritance in the land, “no, not so much as to set his foot on.” Fixed locality was to form no essential part of the true religion. Abraham was still the first Pilgrim, the first Discoverer; “not knowing whither he went .” 3 The words which Reuchlin used to Melanchthon leaving his father’s home were directly and without effort taken from the call to Abraham, to go out “ from his “ country and from his kindred and from his father’s “ house.” The figures which we thus employ, in prose and poetry, in allegory and sermon, are the direct bequest of the Patriarchal pastoral age. In the sight ] Gen. xiv. 5-7; Deut. ii. 10-12, 2 Acts vii. 2-16. 20-23. See Lecture IX. For the 3 Heb. xi. 8. Rephaim see Gesenius (in voce). 32 ABRAHAM AND ISAAC. Lect. II of that primitive time the symbols and realities, which we now regard as separate from each other, were blended in one. The curtain of the picture of life, if I may use the expression of the Greek artist, was to 'Lem the picture itself. 1. Look at the Patriarchal wanderings in this light, shechem. and it will not be thought misspent time to dwell for a short space on the successive stages of their advance. The first was “ the place,” as it is called, of Shechem; then, as it would seem, only marked by the terebinths 1 of Moreh. It is the earliest instance of these primitive wanderers pitching their tents, for shelter against wind or rain, under the shade of some spreading tree. As a rock or a palm-grove in the desert, so in Palestine itself was the isolated terebinth or ilex, the most massive and majestic of its native trees, and therefore legitimately, though not quite correctly, rendered by the English parallel of 66 the oak.” The oak of Moreh, like that of Mamre, to which we shall presently come, probably derived its name from some ancient chief, and was perhaps already regarded as in some measure sacred. Here, doubtless, by the side of the gushing streams of the vale of Shechem, the first encampment was described to have been made, and the altar of the earliest holy place in the Holy Land to have been consecrated. Even the oak remained for many cen¬ turies the object of national reverence. The sanctity of the place lasts even to this day. 2. The second halt was a day’s journey farther Bethel. south, on the central ridge of Palestine, at Bethel; then doubtless only known, if known at all, by its ancient name of Luz; and to this same spot 1 Gen. xii. 6. See Sinai and Palestine, 142, 235. Lect. II. THE HALTING-PLACES. 33 Abraham returned after the journey from Egypt, of which we will presently speak more at length. This was more than a halting-place; it is represented as the turning point of his life. In the* philosophical and religious traditions of all countries there is often described a separation as between two parting roads, a divortium , or “watershed,” as the Romans called it, where those who have been companions up to a cer¬ tain point are thenceforth severed asunder. In Greek teaching the choice is described, through the well- known fable of Hercules, between the rugged path of Virtue and the easy descent of Pleasure. In Mussul¬ man legends, Mahomet stands on the mountain above Damascus, and, gazing on the glorious view, turns away from it with the words, “ Man has but one para- “ dise, and mine is fixed elsewhere.” Often, too, in the lives and conversions of good men in later times, shall we see this same necessity of selection brought before us in the spiritual world. Here it is pre¬ sented to us in one of those instances which I just noticed, in which the spiritual lesson and the out¬ ward image are so blended together as to be indis¬ tinguishable. The two emigrants from Mesopotamia had now swelled into two powerful tribes, and the herdsmen of Abraham and Lot strove together, and the first controversy , the first primeval pastoral con¬ troversy, divided the Patriarchal Church. “ Let there “be no strife, I pray thee” (so the Father of the Faithful replied in language which might well ex¬ tend beyond the strife of herdsmen and shepherds, to the strife of “ pastors and teachers ” in many a church and nation), “Let there be no strife, I pray “ thee, between thee and me, between my herds- “ men and thy herdsmen, for we are brethren. Is 34 ABRAHAM AND ISAAC. Lect. II. “not the whole land before thee ? Separate thyself, “ I pray thee, from me. If thou wilt take the left “ hand, then I will go to the right; or, if thou depart “ to the right* hand, I will go to the left.” 1 It was the first instance of “ agreeing to differ,” in later times so rarely found, so eagerly condemned • and vet not less suitable to all times, because of the ex- treme simplicity of its earliest application. Meanwhile let us take our stand with them on the mountain east of Bethel. The indications of the sacred text, and the peculiar position of the localities, enable us to fix the very spot. On the rocky summit of that hill, under its grove of oaks, Abraham had pitched his tent and built his altar,—the first of the high places which so long continued in Palestine amongst his descendants. And now, from this spot, he and his kins¬ man made the choice which determined the fate of each, according to the view which that summit com¬ mands. Lot looked down on the green valley of the Jordan, its tropical luxuriance visible even from thence, beautiful and well-watered as that garden of Eden of which the fame still lingered in their own Chaldsean hills, as the valley of the Nile in which they had so lately sojourned. He chose the rich soil, and with it 1 Gen. xii. 8; xiii. 3-17. There is another like passage in the history of Isaac: I give it as it appears in the Vulgate. This, by translating the Hebrew proper names, preserves the spirit of the original, which in our version is entirely lost: “ Isaac’s “servants digged in the valley, and “ found there a well of springing “ water; and the herdsmen of Gerar “ did strive with Isaac’s herdsmen, “ saying, The water is ours; and he ‘ called the name Calumny , because 4 they strove with him. And they 4 digged another well, and strove for 4 that also; and he called the name 4 of it Strife. And he removed from 4 thence and digged another well, 4 and for that they strove not; and 4 he called the name of it Latitude , 4 and he said, For now the Lord hath 4 made latitude for us, and we shall 4 be fruitful in the land.” — Gen. xxvi. 19-22. Lect. II. THE HALTING-PLACES. 35 the corrupt civilization which had grown up in the rank climate of that deep descent; and once more he turned his face eastward, and left to Abraham 1 the hardship, the glory, and the virtues of the rugged hills, the sea- breezes, and the inexhaustible future of Western Pales¬ tine. It was Abraham’s henceforward; he was to “ arise “ and walk through the length and through the breadth “ of it, for God had given it to him.” This was the first appropriation, the first consecration of the Holy Land. 3. “Then Abraham removed his tent, and came and “dwelt in the 4 oak-grove’ of Mamre, which is Theoakof “ in Hebron, and built there an altar unto the Mamre - “ Lord.” 2 Here we have the third and chief resting-place of the wandering Patriarch. The modern town of He¬ bron, or, as it is now called after its first illustrious occu¬ pant, “ El Khalil,” “ The Friend,” lies on the northern slope of a basin formed by the confluence of two broad valleys, whose superior cultivation and vegetation have probably caused the long historical celebrity of this spot as the earliest seat of the civilization and power, if not of Palestine, at least of Judaea. The hills which rise above it on the north present for a considerable distance a level table-land slightly broken by occasional depres¬ sions, now mostly occupied by cornfields. It is on this high ground, in one of the depressions, that a large square enclosure of ancient masonry marks in all prob¬ ability the remains of the sanctuary which the Kings of Judah built round what is still called by Jews and Arabs “The House,” or “The Height,” 3 of Abraham. On this spot, in the time of Josephus, a gigantic tere- 1 It is on this divergence of the 2 Gen. xiii. 18. See Sinai and Pal- characters of Lot and Abraham that estine, 142, 164. is founded the legend of the Holy 3 Ramet el Khalil. See Robinson, Cross, commemorated in the con- Bib. Res. i. 216. vent of that name near Jerusalem. 36 ABRAHAM AND ISAAC. Lect. II binth was shown as coeval with the Creation, and as being that under which the tent of the Patriarch was pitched. A fair used to be held under its branches, in which Christians, Jews, and Arabs assembled every summer, when each with his peculiar rites honored the sacred tree with the images and pictures which hung from its branches. Constantine destroyed the images but left the tree; and its trunk, standing in the midst of the church, was still visible in the seventeenth century. Now, the only indication of the exact spot is a deep well, 1 being in truth precisely what one would expect to find hard by the Patriarchal encampment. This is the nearest approach to a home that the wanderings of Abraham present. Underneath the tree 2 his tent was pitched when he sat in the heat of the Eastern noon. Thither came the mysterious visitants whose reception was afterwards commemorated in one of the pictures hung from the sacred oak. In their en¬ tertainment is presented every characteristic 3 of genuine Arab hospitality, which has given him the name of 66 The Father of Guests.” But there is another spot in He¬ bron which gives a yet more permanent and domestic character to its connection with Abraham’s life. When Darius pursued the Scythians into their wilderness, they told him that the only place which they could appoint Cave of f° r a meeting was by the tombs of their fathers. Machpeiah. ^he ances t ra ] burial-place is the one fixed element in the unstable life of a nomadic race; and this was what Hebron furnished to the Patriarchs. The 1 Early Travellers, p. 87. This well and throughout, “ plain ” = “ oak- (at the south-west corner of the en- grove.” closure) is not mentioned by Robin- 3 For the haste (Gen. xviii. 6-8) son. of Arabian hospitality, see Porter’s 2 Genesis xviii. 4, “ the tree,” Damascus , i. Lect. II. THE HALTING-PLACES. 37 one spot of earth which Abraham could call his own, the pledge which he left of the perpetuity of his in¬ terest in “ the land wherein he was a stranger,” was the sepulchre which he bought with four hundred shekels of silver from Ephron the Hittite. It was a rock with a double cave (“ Machpelah”), standing amidst a grove of olives or ilexes, on the slope of the table-land where the first encampment had been made, its valley prob¬ ably occupying the same position with regard to the ancient town of Hebron, that the sepulchral valley of Jehoshaphat did afterwards to Jerusalem. Round this venerable cave the reverence of successive ages and religions has now raised a series of edifices which, whilst they preserve its identity, conceal it entirely from view. But there it still remains. Within the Mussulman mosque, within the Christian church, within the massive stone enclosure built by the Kings of Judah, is, beyond any reasonable question, the last resting-place of Abra¬ ham and Sarah, of Isaac and Rebecca; “ and there Jacob “buried Leah;” and thither, with all the pomp of funeral state, his own embalmed body was brought from the palaces of Egypt. Of all the great Patriarchal family, Rachel alone is absent. All that has ever been seen of the interior of the mosque (held by Mussulman pilgrims to be the fourth most sacred in the world) is the floor of the upper chamber, containing six chests, placed there, as usual in Mussulman sepulchres, to represent the tombs of the dead. But it is said that here, as in the analogous case of the tomb of Aaron on Mount Hor, the real cave exists beneath; divided by an artificial floor into two compartments, into the upper one of which only the chief minister of the mosque is admitted to pray in times of great calamity. The lower compartment, containing the actual graves, is entirely 38 ABRAHAM AND ISAAC. Lect. II. closed, and has never been seen by any one 1 within the range of memory or tradition. 4. Although the oaks of Mamre and the cave of Mach- _ u v pelah rendered Hebron the permanent seat of beersheba. x ^ x Patriarchal life beyond any spot in Palestine, and although they are always henceforth described as lingering around this green and fertile vale, there is yet another circle of recollections more in accordance with their ancient pastoral habits. Even at the moment of the purchase of the sepulchre, Abraham represents himself as still “ a stranger and a sojourner in the land;” and as such his haunts were elsewhere. 66 He journeyed “ from thence toward the south country, and dw T elt be- “ tween Kadesh and Shur, and sojourned in Gerar.” None of these particular spots are known with cer¬ tainty; but it is evident that we are now far away from the hills of Judaea, in the wide upland valley, or rather undulating plain, sprinkled with shrubs, and w T ith the wild flowers which indicate the transition from the pastures of Palestine to the desert,—marked also by the ancient wells, dug far into the rocky soil, and bearing on their stone or marble margins the traces of the long ages during which the water has been drawn up from their deep recesses. Such are those near the western extremity of the plain, still bearing in their name their identification with “ the well of the oath,” or “ the well of the Seven,” 2 — Beer-sheba—which formed the last point reached by the patriarchs, the last centre of their wandering flocks and herds; and, in after-times, from being thus the last inhabited spot on the edge of the desert, the southern frontier of their descendants. This 1 See, however, Benjamin of Tudela sheba ” in Dr. Smith’s Dictionary of in Early Travellers , p. 87. the Bible. 2 See Mr. Grove’s articles on “ Beer- Lect. II. THE HALTING-PLACES. 39 southernmost sanctuary marks the importance whicfy in the migratory life of the East, was and is always attached to the possession of water. Here the solemn covenant was made, according to the significant Arab forms, of placing the seven lambs 1 by themselves, be¬ tween Abraham and the only chief of those regions who could dispute his right, the neighboring king of the Philistines or Avites. “ And Abraham,” still faith¬ ful to the practice which he had followed in Canaan itself, “planted there a sacred grove,” 2 —not now of ilex or terebinth, which never descend into those wild plains, but the light feathery tamarisk, the first and the last tree which the traveller sees in his passage through the desert, and thus the appropriate growth of this spot. Beneath this grove and beside these wells his tents were pitched, and “ he called there on the name of the “ Lord, the everlasting God.” It was the same wilder¬ ness into which Ishmael had gone forth and become an archer, and was to be made a great nation. Is it not as though the strong Bedouin (shall we add the strong parental) instinct had, in his declining days, sprung up again in the aged Patriarch?—as if the unconquerable aversion to the neighborhood of walls and cities, or the desire to meet once more with the first-born son who recalled to him his own early days, drew him down from the hills of Judaea into the congenial desert ? At any rate in Beersheba, we are told, he sojourned “as a stranger” many days. In Beersheba Rebekah was received by his son Isaac into Sarah’s vacant tent; and in the wilderness, as it would seem, “ he gave up the “ ghost and died in a good old age,” in the arms of his two sons, — Isaac the gentle herdsman and child of 1 Herod, iii. 8. Compare Bahr’s 2 Gen. xxi. 33. Sinai and Pales- SymboliJc, 200. tine , 21. 40 ABRAHAM AND ISAAC. Lect. II. promise, Ishmael the Arabian archer, untamable as the wild 1 ass of the desert ,—“ and they buried him in the “ cave of Machpelah.” II. We turn from this external framework to the simplicity g enera l effect of the Patriarchal age, as sug- triarchaf a " g es f ec 4 amongst many other scenes, by the few age* words which have just been quoted describing the end of Abraham. They bring home to us, beyond any other writings, the force and the beauty of simple feeling and natural affection. It is Homer, and more than Homer, carried at once into the hands and hearts of every one. We all know the instantaneous effect pro¬ duced upon us in countries, however distant, in classes or races of men, however different from our own, by hearing the cry of a little child ; with what irresistible force it reminds us that we belong to the same human family • how suddenly it recalls to us, however far away, the thought of our own home. Is not this the exact effect of reading the story of Ishmael ? Ishmael. . Kemote as from ourselves, we instantly recognize the testimony to our common nature and kindred in the prayer of Abraham for his first-horn, Ishmael,—the child who had first awakened in his bosom the feeling of parental love :—“0 that Ishmael might live before Thee:” 2 or yet more in the pathetic scene where the imperious caprice of the Arab chieftainess forbade Hagar and her son to remain any longer in the tent, and “ the thing “ was very grievous in Abraham’s sight because of his “ son. Abraham rose up early in the morning, and took “ bread and a ‘ skin ’ filled with water, and gave it to “ Hagar, putting it on her shoulder, and the child, and “ sent her away into the wilderness.” 1 Gen. xvi. 12 (Heb.). 2 Compare Milman’s Hist, of Jews , i. 13. it is in language, garb, and manner Lect. II. THE PATRIARCHAL HOUSEHOLD. 41 Or look at the story of the other son, the child of laughter and joy, the gentle Isaac. Head the narrative of Eliezer’s mission to fetch Rebekah. Track every stage of that journey—our first introduction in early childhood to the pictures of Oriental life, only deepened more strongly by the sight of the reality. Watch the long pilgrimage over river and mountain, retraced back to the original settlement of the race. See the camels kneeling beside the well without the city; K 0I3 c lv ah • Rebekah descending the flight of steps with the pitcher on her shoulder, exactly as the traveller Niebuhr met the Syrian damsels at one of these very wells. Look at the different characters as they come out, one by one, in the interview,—Eliezer, the faith¬ ful slave bent solely on discharging his mission : " I will " not eat till I have told mine errand. Hinder me not, " seeing that the Lord hath prospered my way.” " Send "me away, that I may go to my master;” — the aged Bethuel always in the background; 1 —Laban’s hard temper relaxing when he sees the exact ornaments still so dear to Arab acquisitiveness in this very region, the ear-ring or nose-ring, and the bracelets on his sister’s hands ;—Rebekah, eager to receive, forward to go, the same high spirit as we shall see afterwards in her future home. " I will draw water for thy camels also till they " have done drinking.” "We have both straw and " provender enough, and room to lodge in.” " And they " called Rebekah, and said unto her : Wilt thou go with " this man ? and she said, I will go.” " And they sent " away Rebekah, their sister, and her nurse. And they " blessed Rebekah and said unto her, Thou art our sister; " be thou the mother of thousands of millions, and let 1 This is well brought out by Professor Blunt, Veracity of the Books of Moses, ch. v. 6 42 ABRAHAM AND ISAAC. Lect. II. “ thy seed possess the gate of them that hate thee.” Nor can we overlook the first touch of what may be called sentimental feeling, in the close of the journey, when the mournful meditations 1 of Isaac, hy the well at eventide, are suddenly interrupted by the arrival of the bride : “ And he brought her into his mother “ Sarah’s tent, and Kebekah became his wife; and he “ loved her, and Isaac was comforted after his mother’s “ death” What an insight into the primitive age! but what a cradle also for the earliest religious history! We often say that in the family is to be found the Patriarchal Church, in the father of the family the Patriarchal Priest. It is indeed so in more senses than one. When we think of the many periods in which the relations of brother and sister, father and child, husband and wife, have, even by good men, been thrust into the back¬ ground as unworthy of a place in the religious rela¬ tions of mankind, we may well hail this first chapter of Ecclesiastical History, as possessing far more than a merely poetical value. It is like one of those ancient Patriarchal wells so often mentioned in the history. Its waters are still fresh and clear in its deep recess. It has outlasted all other changes. It ministers indeed only to human affections and feelings, but it is precisely to those feelings which are as lasting as the human heart itself, and which therefore give and receive from the record which so responds to them, a testimony which will never pass away. III. And now turn from the Patriarchal household External to its points of contact with the external world. relations of ± Abraham. These are perhaps what most escape us as we 1 “ Mournful.” See Blunt, Vera- “ By the well,” LXX. Gen. xxiv. city of the Books of Moses, ch. v. 63. Lect. II. EXTERNAL RELATIONS. 43 read it for other purposes, and therefore what may be most fitly noticed here. 1. The general relations of Abraham to the Canaan- itish tribes have a twofold aspect. On the one To the x . Canaanites hand, as if with the full consciousness of the generally, separation which was to exist between his seed and the tribes of Canaan, and also of its future superiority over them, he always keeps himself distinct from them: he professes to be a stranger amongst them; he will accept no favor at their hands; he will not have any inter¬ marriage between his race and theirs; he refuses the gift of the sepulchre from Ephron, and of the spoils from the King of Sodom. The tomb of Machpelah is a proof standing to this day, of the long predetermined assurance that the children of Abraham should inherit the land in which this was their ancestor’s sole, but most precious possession. It is like the purchase of the site of Hannibal’s camp by the strong faith and hope of the besieged senators of Rome. But on the other hand, there is not in his actual deal¬ ings with the Canaanites a trace of the implacable en¬ mity of later ages; no shadow cast before, of long wars of extermination waged against them; no indication of what, in modern times, has been supposed to be the origin of so many dark legends, and severe accu¬ sations,— the national hatred of rivals and neighbors. The anticipation of distinctness and superiority is not more decided in one class of incidents than the absence of any anticipation of war or animosity is in another. Abimelech, Ephron, Mamre, Melchizedek, all either wor¬ ship the same God, or, if they worship Him under another 1 name, are all bound together by ties of hos- 1 The God of Melchizedek (Gen. xiv. 18) was not Eloah or Elohim , but Eliun, the name given to the God of Phoenicia by Sanchoniathon (Kenrick, Phoen. 288). 44 ABRAHAM AND ISAAC. Lect. n pitality and friendship. The times when the Canaanite is to be utterly destroyed, when the Amalekite is to be hewn in pieces, when the Jews are to have no deal¬ ings with the Samaritans, are still very far beyond us: we are still above the point of separation be¬ tween the various tribes of Syria: distinction has not yet grown into difference • u the iniquity of the Amo- “ rites is not yet full.” To overlook the unity, the comparative unity, between Abraham and the neigh¬ bor races of Palestine, would be to overlook one of the most valuable testimonies to the antiquity, the general Patriarchal spirit of the record as it has been handed down to us. 2. Further, there are the more special occasions on which Abraham is drawn, as it were, out of the pas¬ toral or individual life, into wider relations. The chief of these is the journey into Egypt. I shall not endeavor here, or elsewhere, to deter¬ mine, where uncertainty still prevails, the special points where the history or chronology of Egypt or Judea cross each other’s path: neither shall I draw out at any length, what in this instance is but slightly noticed by the sacred story, the impression Abraham left by Egypt on the mind of this, the first m Egypt. 0 f the myriad travellers who have visited the valley of the Nile. But it is impossible not to pause for a moment on the few points which this event suggests to us. It is the earliest known appearance in Egypt of the nomadic races of Asia, who, under the Shepherd Kings, exercised so great an influence over its destinies in its primitive history, — who, un¬ der the Arab conquerors, have now for thirteen cen¬ turies occupied it as their own. Charlemagne is said to have wept in anticipation of the coming misfor- Lect. II. EXTERNAL RELATIONS. 45 tunes of his empire when he saw the sail of the first Norman ship on the waters of the Mediterranean. And the ancient Pharaoh, whoever he was, might have wept in like manner, could he have foreseen in that innocent and venerable figure the first of the long succession of Asiatic wanderers, like in outward form, though unlike in almost all beside, attracted to the valley of the Nile by the very same motives, coming down from the table-lands or parched valleys of their own deserts or mountains, because " the famine “was grievous in the land,” and sojourning in Egypt, because its river gave the plenteous sustenance which elsewhere they sought in vain. 1 If the Egyptian may have been startled by the sight of Abraham, much more may Abraham have been moved to awe by his approach into Egypt. Whatever may be said in legendary tales of his con¬ nection with Nimrod and the Assyrian powers, this arrival in Eg}^pt is the only indication given by the sacred historian of any conscious entrance into the presence of a great earthly kingdom. The very craft into which the Patriarch is betrayed "as he was come " near to enter into Egypt ” is not without its signifi¬ cance. " They will kill me, but they will save thee “ alive; say, I pray thee, thou art my sister, and it " shall be well with me for thy sake, and my soul “ shall live because of thee.” His faith and courage are unnerved at the prospect and at the sight of the great potentate amidst his princes in his royal house, with his harem and his treasures around him. Yet it is also characteristic of • the Biblical narrative, that the impression left upon us by this first contact of the Church with the World is not purely unfavorable. 1 Isaac was going down in like manner, when he was stopped. Gen. xxvi. 2 46 ABRAHAM AND ISAAC. Lect. II It has been truly remarked 1 that throughout the Scriptures the milder aspect of the world is always presented to us through Egypt, the darker through Babylon. Abraham is the exile from Chaldaea, but he is the guest, the client of the Pharaohs. He dwells, according to the account of a Pagan historian, many years in the sacred city of On, where afterwards his descendants lived so long, and there teaches the Egyp¬ tians astronomy. 2 He receives (as we infer from the sacred narrative) the gifts of male and female slaves, of asses and camels, with which then as now the streets of the Egj^ptian cities abounded. He departs in peace. And such as Egypt is described in this narrative, such both in its secular greatness and in its religious neutrality it appears to have been in those of her monuments which alone can be with certainty ascribed to its most ancient period. The range of the thirty pyramids, in all probability, even at that early time looked down on the plain of Memphis. They remain to indicate the same long anterior state of civilization which the story of Abraham itself im¬ plies, yet exhibit neither in their own sepulchral cham¬ bers, nor in those which immediately surround them, any of those signs of grotesque idolatry which give additional point to the story of the Exodus, and which exist in the later monuments of Thebes and Ip- sambul. 3. The next notice of Abraham's connection with war with the outer world is of a wholly different kind, luoraer. and is far more in accordance with the secu¬ lar aspect of his life presented in Gentile historians than anything else which the sacred narrative pre¬ sents. “Abram the Hebrew” (so, as if from an ex- l Arnold, Sermons on Prophecy. 2 Eupolemus (Eus. Prcep. ix. 17). Lect. II. EXTERNAL RELATIONS. 47 ternal point of view the fragment, apparently of some ancient record, 1 represents him) was dwelling in state at Hebron, in the midst, not merely of his familiar circle, but of his three hundred and eighteen trusty slaves, and confederate not merely with the peaceful Ephron, but, after the manner of the Canaanite chiefs of later 2 times, with the Amo rite mountaineers, Mamre, and his brothers Aner and Eshcol. Suddenly a mes¬ senger of woe appeared by the tent of the Hebrew. From the remote East, a band of kings 3 had descended on the circle of cultivation and civilization which lay deep ensconced in the bosom of the Jordan valley. They had struck dismay far and wide amongst the aboriginal tribes of the desert, all along the east of the Jordan and down to the remote wilds of Petra, and up into the mountain fastness and secluded palm- grove of Engedi. In the green vale beside the shores of the lake the five Canaanite kings rose against the invaders on their return, but were entangled in the bituminous pits of their own native region. The con¬ querors swept them away, and marched homewards the whole length of the valley of the Jordan, carry¬ ing off their plunder, and above all the war 4 horses for which afterwards Canaan became so famous. But from the defeat in the vale of Siddim had escaped one who climbed the wall of rocks that overhang the field of battle, and announced to the new colony established beneath the oak of Hebron that their kinsman had been carried away captive. Instantly Abraham called his allies together, and with them 1 For the character and importance of Chedorlaomer and Amraphel has of this chapter as an historical record, been found in the Assyrian monu- Eee Ewald, Gesch. i. 401, &c. ments. Rawlinson’s Herod, i. 436, 2 Josh. x. 3; xi. 1, 2, &c. 446. 3 Some slight likeness to the names * Gen. xiv. 11, 21 (LXX.). 48 ABRAHAM AND ISAAC. Lect. II. and his armed retainers he pursued the enemy, and (if we may add the details from Josephus 1 ) on the fifth day, at the dead of night, attacked the host as it lay sleeping round the sources of the Jordan. They fled over the range of Antilibanus, and once more Abraham beheld the scene of his first conquest, the city of Damascus, and in its neighborhood, in a village still hearing the same name (Hobah), 2 he finally routed the army and rescued the captives, and returned again to the banks of the Jordan. In a vale or level spot not far from the river, called probably from this encounter “ the vale of the king ” or “ of the kings,” the victorious chief was met by two grateful princes of the country which he had delivered; one was the King of Sodom, the other was one whose name in Meichiz- itself commands respectful awe,—Melchizedek, the King of Kighteousness. Whence he came, from what parentage, remains untold, nay even of what place he was king remains uncertain (for Salem may be either Jerusalem or the smaller town of wdiich in after-times the ruins were shown to Jerome, not far from the scene of the interview). He appears for a moment, and then vanishes from our view altogether. It is this which wraps him round in that mysterious obscurity which has rendered his name the symbol of all such sudden, abrupt apparitions, the interrup¬ tions, the dislocations, if one may so say, of the ordi¬ nary even succession of cause and effect and matter of fact in the various stages of the history of the Church, “ without father, without mother, without be- 1 Ant. i. 10, 1. Compare also Eus. mosque of Abraham, still the object Pr' though slight in itself, is both more the Ass. deeply seated in their original diversity of customs, and more lasting in its results. There is one animal which, even more than the camel, is from first to last identified with the history of Israel. With he-asses and she-asses Abraham returned from Egypt; with the ass Abraham went up with Isaac to the sacrifice; 3 on asses Joseph’s brethren came thither; 1 Deut. v. 15, vi. 21; Lev. xxv. 2 Jos. c. Apion , i. 26, 34. 42, 55. 3 Gen. xxii. 3, 5. Lect. IY. EFFECTS OF THEIR STAY. 105 on an ass Moses set his wife and his sons on his return from Arabia to Egppt; 1 an old man seated on an ass was the likeness of him which, according to Gentile traditions, 2 his countrymen delighted to honor. On white asses or mules, through the whole period of the early history 3 till their first contact with foreign nations in the reign of Solomon, their princes rode in state; the prophecy, fulfilled in the close of their history, was that " their King should come "riding on an ass, and a colt the foal of an ass.” It was the long-continued mark of their ancient, pas¬ toral, simple condition. The rival horse came into Palestine slowly and unlawfully, and was always spoken of as the sign of the pride and power of Egypt; in the funeral procession of Jacob the chariots and horses of Egypt are specially contrasted with the asses of the sons of Israel; they who in later times put their trust in Egypt founded that trust in her chariots and horses. But we know not only the Israelite, but the Egyptian feeling also. Whilst on the Theban monu¬ ments the war-horse is always at hand, the ass, in their minds, was regarded as the exclusive, the con¬ temned, symbol of the nomadic race who had left them. On asses they were described as flying from Egypt; 4 asses, it was believed, had guided them through the desert; 5 in the Holy of Holies (to such a pitch of exaggeration was the story carried) the mysterious object of Jewish worship was held to be an ass’s head; and so deeply and so generally was this persuasion communicated to the heathen world, 1 Exod. iv. 20. 2 Diod. Sic. xxxiv. 1. 3 Judg. v. 10, x. 4, xii. 14; 2 Sam. xvi. 1, 2; 1 Kings i. 33, 38. 14 4 Plutarch de I side, ch. 31. 5 Tac. Hist. v. 3. See Lecture VI. 106 ISRAEL IN EGYPT. Lect. IY that when a new Jewish sect, as it was thought, arose under the name of “ Christian,” the favorite theme of reproach and of caricature was that they worshipped in like manner an ass, the son of an ass, even on the Cross itself. 1 So long and far were the effects visible of this primitive diversity between the civilized king¬ dom of the Pharaohs and the pastoral tribe of the land of Goshen. So innocent was the occasion of this long¬ standing calumny, — a calumny not of generations or centuries, but of millenniums’ growth before it was dispelled; perhaps the most remarkable of all the many like slanders and fables invented, in the course of ecclesiastical history, by the bitterness of national or theological hatred. 5. Such are some of the points, greater or smaller, of lasting antagonism which their original relations Points of left between Egypt and Israel. But there are contact. a j g0 p 0 j n ^g 0 f contact. It would be against the analogy of the whole history, to suppose that this long period was wasted in its effect on the mind of the Chosen People; that the same Divine Providence which in later times drew new truths out of the Chal- dsean captivity for the Jewish Church, out of the Grecian philosophy and the Roman law for the Christian Church, should have made no use of the greatness of Egypt in this first and most important stage of the education of Israel. We need not go to heathen records for the assur¬ ance that Moses was “learned in all the wisdom of “ the Egyptians.” Whatever that wisdom was, we can¬ not doubt it was turned to its own good purpose in the laws through him revealed to the people of God. 1 The Palatine inscription (Dublin Rev. April, 1857). Josephus, c. Ap. ii. 7 ; Tertullian, Apol. ch. 16. Lect. IV. EFFECTS OF THEIR STAY. 107 The very minuteness of the law implies a stage of existence different to that in which the Patriarchs had lived, but like to that in which we know that the Egyptians lived. The forms of some of the most solemn sacrifices — as, for example, the scapegoat — are almost identical. The white linen dresses of the priests, the Urim and Thummim on the high-priest’s breast-plate, are, to all appearance, derived from the same source as the analogous emblems amongst the Egyptians. The sacred ark, as portrayed on the monuments, can hardly fail to have some relation to that which was borne by the Levites at the head of the host, and which was finally enshrined in the Tem¬ ple. The Temple, at least in some of its most re¬ markable features, — its courts, its successive chambers, and its adytum, or Holy of Holies, — is more like those of Egypt than any others of the ancient world with which we are acquainted. In these and in many other instances we may fairly trace a true affiliation of such outward customs and forms, as in like manner, at a later period, the Christian Church took from the Pagan ritual of the empire in which it had sojourned for its four hundred years. It is but an expansion of the one fact which has always arrested the atten¬ tion of commentators, and which in its widest sense is a salutary warning against despising the greatness and the wisdom of the heathen. “ This world of thine, by him usurp’d too long, Now opens all her stores to heal thy servants’ wrong.” 1 Rachel carried off her father’s teraphim from Meso¬ potamia ; the wives and daughters of Israel carried off from Egypt the sacred gems and vestments, which 1 Ewald, ii. 87, 8, on Exod. iii. 22; xii. 45. Keble’s Christian Year (3d S. in Lent). 108 ISRAEL IN EGYPT. Lect. IV. afterwards served to adorn the priestly services of the Tabernacle. “ When ye go, ye shall not go empty. “ But every woman shall borrow of her neighbour . . . “ jewels of silver, and jewels of gold, and raiment, and “ye shall put them upon your sons and upon your “ daughters. . . . And the Lord gave the people “ favour in the sight of the Egyptians, so that they “ lent unto them such things as they required, and “ they spoiled the Egyptians.” Yet the contrast was always greater than the like- Points of ness. When we survey the vast array of an¬ cient ideas represented to us in the Egyptian temples and sepulchres, the thought forced upon us is rather of the fewness than of the frequency of illus¬ trations which they furnish. Of this absence of in¬ fluence perhaps the most remarkable instance lies in the fact that whilst the Egyptian sculptures abound with representations of the future state, and of the judgment after death, the Jewish Scriptures, at least in the Pentateuch, abstain almost entirely from any direct or distinct mention of either. A wider connec¬ tion, indeed, might be maintained if we could trust the later descriptions of Egyptian theology and philos¬ ophy. It was strongly believed in the Greek schools of Alexandria, that behind the multitude of forms, human, divine, bestial, grotesque, which filled the Egyptian shrines, there was yet in the minds of the sacred and the learned few a deep-seated belief in One Supreme Intelligence, and thus the distinguishing mark of the Mosiac Revelation would have been, not so much that it disclosed and insisted on this funda¬ mental truth, but that what had been hitherto confined to a priestly caste was for the first time made the com¬ mon property of a whole people. Such may possibly Lect. IV. EFFECTS OF THEIR STAY. 109 have been the case. But it is not the natural impres¬ sion left by the monuments. The crowd of gods and goddesses, above all, the overwhelming deification of the Pharaohs, of which I have before spoken, seems almost impossible to reconcile with any strong Mono¬ theistic belief in Egypt, however far withdrawn into the recesses of schools or priesthoods. One ever-re¬ curring symbol, however, of such a belief appears in color and sculpture on the Egyptian monuments, as in the Hebrew records it appears also both in word and act. Everywhere, but especially under the portal of every Temple, are stretched out the wide-spread wings, — blue, as if with the cloudless blue of the overarch¬ ing heavens, — covering the sanctuary, as if with the shelter of some invisible protector. This may be the accidental recurrence of a symbol simply and naturally expressive of a beneficent overruling Power. But it is the nearest authentic approach which the Egyptian monuments furnish to such an idea. It is the image to which, in one sublime passage, at least, the Divine presence is directly compared, “ as it were a paved work “ of a sapphire stone , as it were the body of heaven in “ his clearness.” 1 It is an exact likeness of the wings which formed the covering of the ark in the Taber¬ nacle and the Temple, — of the feeling which has been made immortal in the words, “ Under the shadow of “ Thy wings shall be my refuge.” 2 1 Ex. xxiv. 10. Compare our own of the detailed relations of Egyptian use of the word “ Heaven.” to Israelite history, see Hengsten 2 Ps. lvii. 1. For the amplification berg’s Egypt and the Books of Moses . ' . - -• • • • ' .. ■ . ■ MOSES. -♦- V. THE EXODUS. VI. THE WILDERNESS. VII. SINAI AND THE LAW. VIII. KADESH AND PISGAH. SPECIAL AUTHORITIES FOR THIS PERIOD. 1. (a) The last four books of the Pentateuch (Hebrew and Sep- tuagint). (b) Ps. lxxvii. 12-20 ; Ixxviii. 12-54; lxxxi. 5-16 ; xc.; xcv. 8-11; cv. 23-44; cvi. 7-33; cxiv.; cxxxv. 8-9 ; cxxxvi. 10-16: Isa. lxiii. 11-14: Hos. xii. 13 : Micah vi. 4—9 : Ecclus. xlv. 1-22 : 2 Macc. ii. 10. 2. The Jewish traditions, preserved (a) In the New Testament (Acts vii. 20-38 ; 2 Tim. iii. 8, 9 ; Heb. xi. 23-28; Jude 9) : in Josephus {Ant. ii. 9-iv. 8, 49) : and Philo (De vita Moysis ). (b) In the Talmud, the Targum Pseudojonatlian, and the Midrashim ; extracted in Otho’s Lexicon rabbinicum.. 3. The Heathen traditions of Eupolemus, Artapanus, Ezekielus, and Demetrius (Eusebius, Prcep. Ev. ix. 26-29): Manetho, Chsere- mon, Lysimachus (Josephus, c. Apion , i. 26-34) : Apion ( ib. ii. 2) : Strabo (xvi. 2): Diodorus Siculus (xxxiv. 1, xl. from He- catseus) : Tacitus (Hist. v. 3, 4) : Justin (xxxvi. 2): Clemens Alexandrinus Stromata , i. 22-25. 4. The Mussulman traditions in the Koran, ii. v. vii. x. xi. xviii. xx. xxviii. xl.; collected in Lane’s Selections from the Kur-an , §§ xv. xvi.; Weil’s Biblical Legends , p. 91; D’Herbelot’s Bibl. Orientale (“ Moussa,” “ Caroun ” i. e. Korah, “ Feraoun ”) ; and Jalaladdfn, ch. xvi. 5. The Christian traditions in Apocryphal books: — (1) Prayers of Moses, (2) Apocalypse of Moses, (3) Ascension of Moses, (4) Prophecy of Balaam, Book of Jannes and Jambres, &c., in Fa- bricius, Cod. Pseudepigr. Vet. Test. i. 801-871. MOSES. LECTURE V. THE EXODUS. The History, strictly speaking, of the Jewish church begins with the Exodus. In one sense, indeed, “ His- “ tory herself was born on that night when Moses led “ forth his countrymen from the land of Goshen.” 1 Traditions, genealogies, institutions, isolated incidents, isolated characters, may be discovered here and there, long before. In Pagan records there is no continuous narrative of events. In the sacred records, whatever history exists is the history of a man, of a family, of a tribe, but not of a people, a nation, a commonwealth. This marked beginning, visible even in the Jewish annals themselves, is yet more clearly brought out, when considered from an external point of view. To the outer heathen world the earlier period of the Hebrew race, with the single exception of Abraham, was an entire blank. Their origin in the far East, their first settlement in Canaan, the name of their first father, whether Jacob or Israel, these were all but unknown to Greeks and Romans. It is the Exodus that reveals the Israelite to the eyes of Europe. Egypt was the only land which the Gentile inquirers recognized as the birthplace of the Jews. Moses was 1 Bunsen’s Egypt, i. 23. 15 114 THE EXODUS. lect. y. the character who first appears, not only as the law¬ giver, but as the representative of the nation. In many wild, distorted forms the rise of this great name, the apparition of this strange people was con¬ ceived. Let us take the brief account — the best that has been handed down to us — from the careful and truth-loving Strabo. "Moses, an Egyptian priest, who possessed a con- " siderable tract of Low r er Egypt, unable longer to " bear with what existed there, departed thence to " Syria, and with him went out many who honored "the Divine Being (to ©eiw). For Moses maintained " and taught that the Egyptians were not right in " likening the nature of God to beasts and cattle, nor " yet the Africans, nor even the Greeks, in fashioning " their gods in the form of men. He held that this "only was God,—that which encompasses all of us, " earth and sea, that which we call Heaven, and the " Order of the world, and the Nature of things. Of " this who that had any sense would venture to in- " vent an image like to anything which exists "amongst ourselves? Ear better to abandon all stab " uary and sculpture, all setting apart of sacred pre- " cincts and shrines, and to pay reverence, without " any- image whatever. The course prescribed was, " that those who have the gift of good divinations, " for themselves or for others, should compose them- " selves to sleep within the Temple; and those who " live temperately and justly may expect to receive " some good gift from God, — these always, and none " besides.” 1 1 Strabo, xvi. 760. He probably further and less accurate details in takes his account from Hecataeus (see Diodorus (xl.). Ewald, ii. 74), which is given with Lect Y. THE BIRTH OF MOSES. 115 These words, unconsciously introduced in the work of the Cappadocian geographer, occupying but a single section of a single chapter in the seventeen books of his voluminous treatise, awaken in us something of the same feeling as that with which we read the short epistle of Pliny, describing with equal unconsciousness, yet with equal truth, the first appearance of the new Christian society which was to change the face of mankind. With but a few trifling exceptions, Strabo’s account is, from his point of view, a faithful summary of the mission of Moses. What a curiosity it would have roused in our minds, had this been all that remained to us con¬ cerning him! That curiosity we are enabled to gratify from books which lay within Strabo’s reach, though he cared not to read them. Let us unfold from their ancient pages the leading points of the signal deliv¬ erance, when a Israel came out of Egypt, and the “ house of Jacob from among the strange people.” The life of Moses, in the later period of the Jew¬ ish history, was divided into three equal portions of forty years each. 1 This agrees with the natural ar¬ rangement of his history into the three parts, of his Egyptian education, his exile in Arabia, and his gov¬ ernment of the Israelite nation in the Wilderness and on the confines of Palestine. But whilst the first two will be contained in the present Lecture, the last ex¬ tends itself over the rest of this portion of the his¬ tory. I. The early period of the life of Moses, as related in the Pentateuch, is so closely bound up with the later traditions concerning it, that it may be well to present it in the form in which it appeared to his nation at the time of the Christian era. His birth 2 1 Acts vii. 23, 30. 8 Jos. Ant. ii. 9, § 2-4. 116 THE EXODUS. Lect. V. — so ran the story — had been foretold to Pharaoh The birth by the Egyptian magicians, and to his father of Moses. Amram by a dream, as respectively the future destroyer and deliverer. The pangs of his mother’s labor were alleviated so as to enable her to evade the Egyptian midwives. The beauty of the new-born babe — in the later version of the story amplified into a beauty and size almost divine 1 — induced the mother to make extraordinary efforts for its preservation from the general destruction of the male children of Israel. For three months the child, under the name of Joachim, was concealed in the house. Then his mother placed him in a small boat or basket of papyrus (perhaps from a current Egyptian 2 belief that that plant was a protection from crocodiles), closed against the water by bitumen. This was placed among the aquatic vegetation by the side of one of the canals of the Nile. The mother departed as if unable to bear the sight. The sister lingered to watch her brother’s fate. The basket floated 3 down the stream. The princess 4 came down, in primitive simplicity, Hiseduca- to bathe in the sacred river. Her attendant i • slaves followed her. She saw the basket in the flags, or borne down the stream, and despatched divers after it. The divers, or one of the female slaves, brought it. It was opened, and the cry of the child moved the princess to compassion. She deter¬ mined to rear it as her own. The sister was then at hand to recommend a Hebrew nurse. The child was brought up as the princess’s son, and the memory of 1 Jos. Ant. ii. 9, § 1, 5. ’A cteZoq t« 4 Thermuthis (Jos. Ibid. § 5), or 9ew, Acts vii. 20. Merrliis (Artap. in Eusebius), daugh- 2 Plut. Is. et Os. 358. ter of the king of Heliopolis, wife of 3 Jos. Ant. ii. 9, § 4. the king of Memphis. lect. v. MOSES IN EGYPT. 117 the incident was long cherished in the name given to the foundling of the water’s side — whether according to its Hebrew or Egyptian form. Its Hebrew form is Mosheh, from masah , “ to draw out”—“because I have “ drawn him out of the water.” But this is probably the Hebrew termination given to an Egyptian word signifying “ saved from the water.” 1 The “ Child of the water” was adopted by the childless princess. Its beauty came to be such, that passers-by stood fixed to look at it, and laborers left their work to steal a glance. 2 Such was the narrative, as moulded by suc¬ cessive generations, and finally adopted by Josephus and Clement of Alexandria, from the simpler, but still thoroughly Egyptian, incidents of the Biblical story. From this time for many years Moses must be con¬ sidered as an Egyptian. In the Pentateuch, whether from absence of authentic information, or stern disdain, or native simplicity, this period is a blank. But the well-known words of Stephen’s speech, which describes him 3 as “learned in all the wisdom of the Egyptians” and “mighty in words and deeds ,” are in fact a brief sum¬ mary of the Jewish and Egyptian traditions which fill up the silence of the Hebrew annals. He w T as edu¬ cated at Heliopolis, 4 and grew up there as a priest, under his Egyptian name of Osarsiph 5 or Tisithen. 6 1 In Coptic, mo — water, and usTie <== saved. This is the explanation given by Josephus (Ant. ii. 9, 6; c. Apion, i. 31), and confirmed by the Greek form of the word adopted in the LXX., Mwvofjc;, and thence in the Vulgate, Moyses (French Mo'ise). This form is retained in the Au¬ thorized Version of 1611, in 2 Mac¬ cabees — “ Moises.” In the later editions it is altered. Brugsch (His- toire d’Egypte, 157, 173) renders the name Mes or Messon — child, borne by one of the princes of Ethiopia under Rameses II., as also in the names Amosis and Thuth-Jk/osw. 2 Jos. Ant. ii. 9, § 6. 3 Acts vii. 22. 4 Compare Strabo, xvii. 1. 5 “ Osarsiph ” is derived by Mane- tho from Osiris. Jos. c. Ap. i. 26, 31 6 Chaeremon, Ibid. 32. 118 THE EXODUS. lect. v. “ He learned arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, medi- “ cine, and music. He invented boats and engines for “ building — instruments of war and of hydraulics — “ hieroglyphics — division of lands” He taught Or¬ pheus, and was hence called by the Greeks Musaeus, 1 and by the Egyptians Hermes. He was sent on an expedition against the Ethiopians. He got rid of the serpents of the country to be traversed by letting loose baskets full of ibises upon them. 2 The city of Hermopolis was believed to have been founded to commemorate his victory. 3 He advanced to the capi¬ tal of Ethiopia, and gave it the name of Meroe, from his adopted mother Merrhis, whom he buried there. Tharbis, the daughter of the king of Ethiopia, 4 fell in love with him, and he returned in triumph to Egypt with her as his wife. 6 The original account reopens with the time when he was resolved to reclaim his nationality. Here, again, the Epistle to the Hebrews, following in the same track as Stephen’s speech, preserves the tradition in a distincter form than the narrative of the Penta¬ teuch. “ Moses, when he was come to years, refused “ to be called the son of Pharaoh’s daughter; choosing “ rather to suffer affliction with the people of God “ than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season; es- “ teeming the reproach of Christ greater riches than “ the treasures (the ancient accumulated treasures of “ Khampsinitus and the old kings) of Egypt.” 6 In his earliest infancy he was reported to have refused the milk of Egyptian nurses, and, when three years old, to have trampled under his feet the crown which 1 Artapanus, in Eusebius. 2 Jos. Ant. ii. 10, § 2. 3 Artapanus. 4 Comp. Num. xii. 1. 5 Jos. Ant. ii. 10, § 2. 6 Heb. xi. 24-26. lect. v. MOSES IN EGYPT. 119 Pharaoh had playfully placed on his head. 1 According to the Egyptian tradition, although a priest of Heli¬ opolis, he always performed his prayers according to the custom of his fathers, outside the walls of the city, in the open air, turning towards the sunrising. 2 The king was excited to hatred by his own envy, or by the priests of Egypt, who foresaw their destroyer. 3 Various plots of assassination were contrived against him, which failed. The last was after he had His escape, already escaped across the Nile from Memphis, warned by his brother Aaron, and when pursued by the as¬ sassin he killed him. The same general account of conspiracies against his life appears in Josephus. 4 All that remains of these traditions in the Sacred narra¬ tive is the single and natural incident, that seeing an Israelite suffering the bastinado from an Egyptian, and thinking that they were alone, he slew the Egyptian (the later tradition said, 5 “ with a word of his mouth ”), and buried the corpse in the sand, — the sand of the desert, then, as now, running close up to the culti¬ vated tract. The same fire of patriotism which thus roused him as a deliverer from the oppressors, turns him into the peace-maker of the oppressed. It is char¬ acteristic of the faithfulness of the Sacred records that his flight is occasioned rather by the malignity of his countrymen than by the enmity of the Egyptians. And in Stephen’s speech 6 it is this part of the story which is drawn out at greater length than in the original, evidently with the view of showing the iden¬ tity of the narrow spirit which had thus displayed itself equally against their first and the last Deliverer. 1 Jos. Ant. ii. 9, § 5, 7. 4 Ant. ii. 10, § 1. 2 Id. c. Apion , ii. 2. 5 Clem. Alex. Strom, i. 23. 3 Artapanus. 6 Acts vii. 23-39. 120 THE EXODUS. lect. v. II. Where these later traditions end, the Sacred The call of history begins. Whatever may have been the M °ses. preparation provided by Egyptian war or wis¬ dom, it is in the unknown, unfrequented wilderness of Arabia, — in the same school of solitude and of exile, which in humbler spheres has so often trained great minds to the reception of new truths, — that the mission of Moses was revealed to him. In that won¬ derful region of the earth, where the grandeur of mountains is combined, as hardly anywhere else, with the grandeur of the desert, — amidst the granite precipices and the silent valleys of Horeb, — as to his people afterwards, so to Moses now was the great truth to be made manifest, of which, as we have seen, he was recognized even by the heathen world to have been the first national interpreter. “ Now Moses kept “ the flock of Jethro his father-in-law, the Priest of “ Midian: and he led the flock to the back of the “ wilderness ” far from the shores of the Bed Sea, where Jethro seems to have dwelt, “ and came to the “ mountain of God, even to Horeb.” We know not the precise place. Tradition, reaching back to the sixth century of the Christian era, fixes it in the same deep seclusion as that to which in all probability he after¬ wards led the Israelites. The convent of Justinian is built over what was supposed to be the exact spot where the shepherd was bid to draw his sandals from off his feet. The valley in which the convent stands is called by the Arabian name of Jethro. 1 But whether this, or the other great centre of the peninsula, Mount Serbal, be regarded as the scene of the event, the appropriateness would be almost equal. Each has at different times been regarded as the sanctuary of the 1 Shoaib = Hobab (Evvald, Gesch. ii. 58, note). Lect. v. THE CALL OF MOSES. 121 desert. Each presents that singular majesty, which, as Josephus tells us, 1 and as the sacred narrative implies, had already invested “ The Mountain of God ” with an awful reverence in the eyes of the Arabian tribes, as though a Divine Presence rested on its solemn heights. Around each, on the rocky ledges of the hill-side, or in the retired basins, withdrawn within the deep re¬ cesses of the adjoining mountains, or beside the springs w T hich water the adjacent valleys, would be found pasture of herbage or of aromatic shrubs for the flocks of Jethro. On each, in that early age, though The bum- now found only on Mount Serbal, must have mg bush ' grown the wild acacia, the shaggy thorn-bush of the Seneh , the most characteristic tree of the whole range. So natural, so thoroughly in accordance with the scene, were the signs, in which the call of Moses makes itself heard and seen. Not in any outward form, human or celestial, such as the priests of Heliopolis were w T ont to figure to themselves as the representatives of Deity, but out of the midst of the spreading thorn, the out¬ growth of the desert wastes, did “ the Lord appear unto Moses.” A flame of fire, like that which seemed to consume and waste away His people in the furnace of affliction, 2 shone forth amidst the dry branches of the thorny tree, and “ behold! the bush,” the massive thicket, “ burned with fire, and the bush was not con- “ sumed ” And when the question arose, with what he should work the signs by which his countrymen shall believe and hearken to his voice, the same character re¬ curs. No sword of war, such as was wielded by Egyp¬ tian kings, no mystic emblem, such as was borne by Egyptian gods, but — ‘“What is that in thine hand?’ 1 Ant. ii. 12, § 1 . Compare Sinai and Palestine , 17, 20, 2 See Philo, Vita Mosis, i. 91. 45, 46. 16 122 THE EXODUS. Lect. V. “ And he said, * A rod/ ” 1 — a staff, a shepherd’s crook, The shep- the staff which indicated his return to the pas- herd’s staff. ^ ora j habits of his fathers, the staff on which he leaned amidst his desert wanderings, the staff with which he guided his kinsman’s flocks, the staff like that still borne by Arab chiefs, — this was to be the humble instrument of divine power. “ In this,” as afterwards in the yet humbler symbol of the Cross, — in this, the symbol of his simplicity, of his exile, of his lowliness, — “the world was to be conquered.” These were the outward signs of his call. And, whatever the explanation put on their precise im¬ port, there is this undoubted instruction conveyed in their description, that they are marked by the pecul¬ iar appropriateness and homogeneousness to the pe¬ culiar circumstances of the Prophet, which marks all like manifestations, through every variety of form, to the Prophets, the successors of Moses, in each suc¬ ceeding age. In grace, as in nature, God, if we may use the well-known expression, abhorret saltum , abhors a sudden, unprepared transition. “ The child is father of “ the man: ” the man is father of the prophet — the days of both are “bound each to each by natural piety.” It is the first signal instance of the prophetic revela¬ tions. Its peculiar form is the key of all that follow. But, as in all these Revelations, it is the substance The Name an( l spirit of the message, rather than its of Jehovah. ou ^ war( 5 f or m, which carries with it the most enduring lesson, and the surest mark of its heavenly origin. “ Behold, when I shall come to the children “ of Israel, and shall say unto them, The God of your “fathers hath sent me unto you, and they shall say, 1 In the Mussulman traditions it that worked the wonders. D’Herbe- was the white shining hand of Moses lot (“ Moussa”). Lect. V. THE NAME OF JEHOVAH. 123 “ ‘ What is His name ? ’ what shall I say unto them ? “And God said unto Moses, I am that I am. . . . “ Thus shalt thou say unto the children of Israel, c I AM “ hath sent me unto you ” It has been observed, that the great epochs of the history of the Chosen People are marked by the sev¬ eral names, by which in each the Divine Nature is indicated. In the Patriarchal age we have already seen that the oldest Hebrew form by which the most general idea of Divinity is expressed is “ El-Elohim,” “ The Strong One,” “ The Strong Ones,” “ The Strong ” “ Beth-El,” “ Peni-El,” remained even to the latest times memorials of this primitive mode of address and wor¬ ship. But now a new name, and with it a new truth, was introduced. “I am Jehovah; I appeared unto “ Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, by the name of El-Shad- “ dai (God Almighty); but by my name JEHOVAH “ was I not known unto them.” 1 The only certain use of it before the time of Moses is in the name 2 of “ Jochebed,” borne by his own mother. It has been beautifully conjectured 3 that in the small circle of that family a dim conception had thus arisen of the Divine Truth, which was through the son of that family proclaimed forever to the world. It was the rending asunder of the veil which overhung the temple 4 of the Egyptian Sais. “ I am that which has “ been, and which is, and which is to be; and my veil “ no mortal hath yet drawn aside.” It was the decla¬ ration of the simplicity, the unity, the self-existence of the Divine Nature, 5 the exact opposite to all the 1 Ex. vi. 2, 3. 4 Plutarch, De Isid. et Os. c. 9. 2 Ibid. 20. Jochebed is a con- 5 The word Lord, by which we traction of Jeho-chebed = “ Jehovah render it, is the translation of icvpiog , my glory.” (Gesenius, sub voce.) in the LXX., which again is the 3 Ewald, ii. 204, 5. translation of Adonai, the word used 124 THE EXODUS. Lect. V. multiplied forms of idolatry, human, animal, and celes¬ tial, that prevailed, as far as we know, everywhere else. “ The Eternal.” This was the moving spring of the whole life of Moses, of the whole story of the Exodus. In viewing the history, even as a mere na¬ tional record, we cannot, if we would, dispense with the impulse, the elevation, of which the name of “Jehovah” was at once the cause and the symbol. Slowly and with difficulty it won its way into the heart of the people. We can trace it, through its gradual incorporation, into the proper names begin¬ ning with the transformation of Hoshea into Jehoshua. We can trace its deep religious significance in the frequent usage which separates those portions of the Sacred records where the name “Jehovah” occurs from those where the older name of “ Elohim ” occurs. The awe which it inspired went on, as it would seem, increasing rather than diminishing with the lapse of years. A new turn was given to it under the mon¬ archy, when it becomes encompassed with the attri¬ butes of the leader of the armies of earth and heaven, “ Jehovah Sabaoth,” “ The Lord of Hosts.” And in later times it lies concealed, enshrined, behind the word which the trembling reverence of the last age of the Jewish people substituted for it, and which ap¬ pears in the Greek and in the English version of the Scriptures, — “ Adonai,” “ Kurios,” “ the Lord,” — a sub¬ stitution which, whilst it effaced the historical meaning of the name, prepared the way for the still nearer and closer revelation of God in Him whom we now emphatically acknowledge as “ Our Lord ” by the excessive reverence of the Jehovah is the French “ L’Eternel,” later Jews in the place of Jehovah, whence Bunsen has taken, in his The only modern translation which Bibelwerk , “ der Ewige.” has preserved the true rendering of Lix’T. Y. THE RETURN OF MOSES. 125 But we must return to the original circumstances under wdiich the Revelation was first made. The return It is characteristic of the Biblical history that of Moses ' this new name, though itself penetrating into the most abstract metaphysical idea of God, yet in its effect was the very opposite of a mere abstraction. Moses is a Prophet, — the first of the Prophets, — but he is also a Deliverer. Israel, indeed, through him becomes “ a chosen people,” “ a holy congregation,”— in one word, a Church. But it also through him be- becomes a nation: it passes, by his means, from a pas¬ toral, subject, servile tribe, into a civilized, free, inde¬ pendent commonwealth. It is in this aspect that the more human and historical side of his appearance pre¬ sents itself. It is true that even here we see him very imperfectly. In him, as in the Apostles afterwards, the man is swallowed up in the cause, the messenger in the message and mission with which he is charged. Yet from time to time, and here in this opening of his career more than elsewhere, his outward and domestic relations are brought before us. He returns to Egypt from his exile. In the advice of his father- in-law to make war upon Egypt , 1 in his meeting with his brother in the desert of Sinai, may be indications of a mutual understanding and general rising of the Arabian tribes against the Egyptian monarchy . 2 But in the Sacred narrative our attention is fixed only on the personal relations of the two brothers, now first mentioned together, never henceforth to His per- ° y sonal ap- be parted. From that meeting and coopera- pearance tion we have the first indications of his indi- character, vidual character and appearance. We are accustomed to invest him with all the external grandeur which 1 Artapanus. 2 Ewald, ii. 59, 60. 126 THE EXODUS. Lect. V. would naturally correspond to the greatness of his mission. The statue of Michael Angelo rises before us in its commanding sternness, as the figure before which Pharaoh trembled. Something, indeed, of this is justified by the traditions respecting him. The long shaggy hair and beard, 1 which infold in their vast tresses that wild form, appear in the heathen repre¬ sentations of him. The beauty of the child is, by the same traditions, continued into his manhood. “ He “was,” says the historian Justin 2 (with the confusion so common in Gentile representations), “ both as wise “ and as beautiful as his father Joseph.” But the only point described in the Sacred narrative is one of sin¬ gular and unlooked-for infirmity. “ 0 my Lord, I am “ not eloquent, neither heretofore, nor since thou hast “ spoken to thy servant; but I am slow of speech, “ and of a slow tongue ; . . . how shall Pharaoh hear “ me, which am of uncircumcised lips ? ” — that is, slow and without words, “stammering and hesitating” (so the Septuagint strongly expresses it), like Demos¬ thenes in his earlier youth, — slow and without words, like the circuitous orations of the English Cromwell, 3 — “ his speech contemptible,” like the Apostle Paul. How often had this been repeated in the history of the world, — how truly has the answer been repeated also : “ Who hath made man’s mouth ? . . . Have not “ I the Lord ? . . . I will be thy mouth, and teach “ thee what thou shalt say.” And when the remonstrance went up from the true, 9 1 An old man, with a long beard, hue, tinged with gray, as given by seated on an ass, was the idea of Artapanus. Moses, as given by Diodorus (xxxiv.); 2 xxxvi. 2. or tall and dignified in appearance, 3 See Carlyle’s Cromwell , ii. 219. and long streaming hair of a reddish Lect. v. AARON. 127 disinterested heart of Moses, “ 0 my Lord, send, I “ pray thee, by the hand of him whom thou Relations of “ wilt send ” (“ Make any one thine Apostle so Aaron. “ that it be not me ”), the future relation of the two brothers is brought to light. “ Is not Aaron the “ Levite thy brother ? I know that he can speak “ well. And also, behold, he cometh forth to meet “ thee, and when he seeth thee he will be glad in his “ heart. And thou shalt speak unto him, and put “ words in his mouth. . . . And he shall be thy “ spokesman unto the people, and he shall be, even “he shall be to thee instead of a mouth, and thou “ shalt be to him instead of God.” In all outward ap¬ pearance,— as the Chief of the tribe of Levi, as the head of the family of Amram, as the spokesman and interpreter, as the first who “ spake to the people and “ to Pharaoh all the words which the Lord had spoken “ to Moses,” and did the signs in the sight of the people, as the permanent inheritor of the sacred staff or rod, the emblem of rule and power, — Aaron, not Moses, must have been the representative and leader of Israel. But Moses was the inspiring, informing soul within and behind; and, as time rolled on, as the first outward impression passed away and the deep abiding recollection of the whole story remained, Aaron the prince and priest has almost disappeared from the view of history • and Moses, the dumb, backward, dis¬ interested Prophet, continues for all ages the foremost leader of the Chosen People, the witness that some¬ thing more is needed for the guidance of man than high hereditary office or the gift of fluent speech,— a rebuke alike to an age that puts its trust in priests and nobles, and an age that puts its trust in preach¬ ers and speakers. 128 THE EXODUS. lect. v, As his relations with Aaron give us a glimpse into His wife his personal history, so his advance towards dren. Egypt gives us a glimpse into his domestic his¬ tory. His wife, whom he had won by his chivalrous attack on the Bedouin shepherds by “the well” of Midi an, and her two infant sons, are with him. She is seated with them on the ass, — the usual mode of travelling, for Israelites at least, in those parts. He walks by their side with his shepherd’s staff On the journey a mysterious and almost inexplicable in¬ cident occurs in the family. The most probable ex¬ planation seems to be, that at the caravansary either Moses or his eldest child was struck with what seemed to be a mortal illness. In some way, not apparent to us, this illness was connected by Zipporah with the fact that her son had not been circumcised — whether in the general neglect of that rite amongst the Israel¬ ites in Egypt, or in consequence of his birth in Midian. She instantly performed the rite, and threw the sharp instrument, stained with the fresh blood, at the feet of her husband, exclaiming in the agony of a mother’s anxiety for the life of her child, “A bloody husband “ thou art to cause the death of my son.” Then, when the recovery from the illness took place (whether of her son or her husband), she exclaims again: “ A “ bloody husband still thou art, but not so as to cause “ the child’s death, but only to bring about his cir- “ cumcision.” 1 It would seem as if in consequence of this event, i So Ewald ( Alterlh . 105), and for “ marriage ” being a synonyme for Bunsen (Bibelwerk, i. 112), taking the “circumcision.” It is possible that sickness to have visited Moses. Rosen- on this story is founded the tradition miiller makes Gershom the victim of Artapanus (Eusebius), that the (see Ex. iv. 25), and makes Zipporah Ethiopians derived circumcision from address Jehovah, the Arabic word Moses. Lect. V. THE DELIVERANCE. 129 whatever it was, that the wife and her children were sent back to Jethro, and remained with him till Moses joined them at Kephidim! Unless Zipporah is the Cushite wife 1 2 who gave such umbrage to Miriam and Aaron, we hear of her no more. The two sons also sink into obscurity. Their names, though of Levitical origin, relate to their foreign birth¬ place. Gershom, the u stranger,” and Eli-ezer, “ God is my help,” commemorated their father’s exile and es¬ cape. 3 Their posterity lingered in obscurity down to the time of David. 4 From the Deliverer we proceed to the Deliverance. We need not repeat what has been already said of the condition of Egypt at this time, and of the pecul¬ iar oppression of the Israelites. The deliverance, in its essential features, is the like¬ ness of all such deliverances. “ When the tale The Delhr _ “ of bricks is doubled then comes Moses.” erance ‘ This is the proverb which has sustained the Jewish nation through many a long oppression. The truth contained in it, the imagery of the Exodus, have doubtless been more than the types, they have often been the sustaining causes and consolations, of the many successful struggles which from that day to this the oppressed have waged against the oppressor. But that which is peculiar in the story of the Exodus is the mode by which it was effected. First, it was not a mere case of ordinary insurrection of a slave popu¬ lation against their masters. The Egyptian version of the event represents it as a dread, an aversion 1 Ex. xviii. 2-6. 3 Ex. xviii. 3, 4. 2 Num. xii. 1. Compare the juxta- 4 i Chr. xxiii. 16, 17; xxiv. 24; position of “ Cushan ” and “ Midian ” xxvi. 25-28. See also Judg. xviii. in Ilab. iii. 7. 30. 17 130 THE EXODUS. Lect. V. entertained by the oppressors towards the oppressed as towards an accursed and polluted people. It was a mutual hatred. The king, according 1 to the con¬ stant Egyptian tradition, was troubled by dreams, and commanded by oracles to rid himself of the nation of lepers. And this, from another point of view, is also the prevailing sentiment of the Egyptians, as given in the Sacred writers. “ Rise up, and get you “ forth from among my people. . . . Egypt was “ glad at their departing — for they were afraid of “ them.” And it is impossible, as we read the description of The the Plagues, not to feel how much of force Plagues. * s a( jd ec i | 0 it py a knowledge of the peculiar customs and character of the country in which they occurred. It is not an ordinary river that is turned into blood; it is the sacred, 2 beneficent, solitary Nile, the very life of the state and of the people, in its streams and canals and tanks, and vessels of wood and vessels of stone, then, as now, used for the filtra¬ tion of the delicious water from the sediment of the river-bed. It is not an ordinary nation that is struck by the mass of putrefying vermin lying in heaps by the houses, the villages, and the fields, or multiplying out of the dust of the desert sands on each side of the Nile valley. It is the cleanliest of all the ancient nations, clothed in white linen, anticipating, in their fastidious delicacy and ceremonial purity, the habits of modern and northern Europe. It is not the ordi¬ nary cattle that died in the field, or ordinary fish that died in the river, or ordinary reptiles that were over¬ come by the rod of Aaron. It is the sacred goat of Mendes, the ram of Ammon, the calf of Heliopolis, 1 Jos. c. Apion , i. 26, 32, 34. 2 Philo, V. M. i. 17. lect. y. THE DELIVERANCE. 131 the bull Apis, the crocodile 1 of Ombos, the carp of Latopolis. It is not an ordinary land of which the flax and the barley, and every green thing in the trees, and every herb of the field are smitten by the two great calamities of storm and locust. It is the garden 2 of the ancient Eastern world,—the long line of green meadow and cornfield, and groves of palm and sycamore and fig-tree, from the Cataracts to the Delta, doubly refreshing from the desert which it in¬ tersects, doubly marvellous from the river whence it springs. If these things were calamities anywhere, they were truly “ signs and wonders ” — speaking signs and oracular wonders — in such a land as “the land of Ham.” In whatever way we unite the Hebrew and the Egyptian accounts, there can be no doubt that the Exodus was a crisis in Egyptian as well as in Hebrew history, “ a nail struck into the coffin of “ the Egyptian monarchy.” 3 But, secondly, the Israelite annals, unlike the rec¬ ords of any other nation, in ancient or modern times, which has thrown off the yoke of slavery, claim no merit, no victory of their own. There is no Marathon, no Regillus, no Tours, no Morgarten. All is from above, nothing from themselves. 4 In whatever propor¬ tions the natural and the supernatural are intermin¬ gled, this result equally remains. The locusts, the flies, the murrain, the discolored river, the storm, the darkness of the sandy wind, the plague, are calamities natural 5 to Egypt, though rare, and exhibited here in 1 The “serpent” of Exod. vii. 9, 3 Bunsen, Bibelurkunden, i. 107. 10, 12 (a different word from that in 4 See the version of the plagues iv. 3; vii. 15), is evidently a “ croco- given by Artapanus (Eusebius), dile.” 5 This is the view taken in Hengst- 2 Gen. xiii. 10; “a garden of the enberg’s Egypt and the Books of “ Lord, the land of Egypt.” Moses. 132 THE EXODUS. Lect. V. The Exodus. aggravated and terrible forms. But not the less are they the interventions of a Power above the power of man, — not the less did they call the mind of the Israelite from dwelling on his own strength and glory, to the mighty Hand and the stretched-out Arm, on which alone, through his subsequent history, he was to lean. It is in the final issue of the Exodus that this most clearly appears, and here we can approach more nearly to the events as they actually presented themselves; especially with the additional light thrown upon it by the allusions in the Psalms, by the parallel story of Josephus, and by the customs through which it was commemorated in after-times. There are some days of which the traces left on the mind of a nation are so deep that the events themselves seem to live on long after they have been numbered with the past. Such was the night of the month Nisan in the eighteenth cen¬ tury before the Christian era. “It is a night to be “much observed unto the Lord, for bringing them “ out of the land of Egypt; this is that night of the “ Lord to be observed of the children of Israel in “ their generations.” Dimly we see and hear, in the darkness and the confusion of that night, the stroke which at last broke the heart of the king and made him let Israel go. “At midnight the Lord smote all “the first-born in the land of Egypt, from the firsir “ born of Pharaoh that sat on his throne, to the first- “ born of the captive that was in the dungeon; and “ all the first-born of cattle. And Pharaoh rose up in “ the night, he, and all his servants, and all the Egyp- “ tians; and there was a great cry in Egypt,” — the loud, frantic, funeral wail characteristic of the whole nation, — “ for there was not a house where there was Lect. V. THE PASSOVER. 133 “not one dead.” In the Egyptian accounts this de¬ struction was described 1 as effected by an incursion of the Arabs. The Jewish Psalmist ascribes it to the sudden visitation of the plague. “ He spared not their “ soul from death, but gave their life over unto the “ pestilence.” 2 Egyptian and Israelite each regarded it as a divine judgment on the worship, no less than the power, of Egypt. “The Egyptians buried their “ first-born whom the Lord had smitten; upon their “ gods also did the Lord execute judgment.” 3 But whilst of the more detailed effect of that night on Egypt we know nothing, for its effects on Israel it might almost be said that we need not go back to any written narrative. It still moves and breathes amongst us. Amongst the various festivals of the Jewish Church, one only (till the institution of those which The Pass . commemorated the much later deliverances over - from Haman and from Antiochus Epiphanes) was dis¬ tinctly historical. In the feast of the Pesach, Pascha, or Passover, the scene of the flight of the Israelites, its darkness, its hurry, its confusion, was acted year by year, as in a living drama. In part it is still so acted throughout the Jewish race; in all its essential features (some of which have died out everywhere else) it is enacted, in the most lively form, by the solitary remnant of that race which, under the name of Sa¬ maritan, celebrates the whole Paschal sacrifice, year by year, on the summit of Mount Gerizim. 4 Each householder assembled his family round him; the feast was within the house; there was no time or place 1 Jos. c. Apion , i. 27. 2 Psalm lxxviii. 51. 3 Num. xxxiii. 4. 4 From this ceremony, described to me by an eye-witness, most of the following account is taken. 134 THE EXODUS. Lect. V. for priest or sacred edifice, — even after the establish ment of the sanctuary at Jerusalem this vestige of the primitive or the irregular celebration of that night continued, and not in the Temple courts, hut in the upper chamber 1 of the private houses, was the room prepared where the Passover was to be eaten. The animal slain and eaten on the occasion was itself a memorial of the pastoral state of the people. The shepherds of Goshen, with their flocks and herds, whatever else they could furnish for a hasty meal, would at least have a lamb or a kid, — “ a male of “ the .first year from the sheep or from the goats.” They struck its blood on the door-posts of the house as a sign of their deliverance. At Gerizim the Samar¬ itan community rushes forward, and, as the blood flows from the throat of the slaughtered lamb, they dip their fingers in the stream; and each man, woman, and child, even to the child in arms, is marked on the forehead with the red stain. On the cruciform wooden spit — this we know from Justin 2 Martyr was the practice in ancient times, and the Christian spec¬ tator on Gerizim starts as he sees it at this day — on the cruciform spit the lamb is left, after the manner of Eastern feasts, to he roasted whole during the re¬ maining hours of the day. Night falls; the stars come out; the bright moon is in the sky: the household gathers round; and then takes place the hasty meal, of which every part is marked by the almost frantic haste of the first cele¬ bration, when Pharaoh’s messengers were expected every instant to break in with the command, “ Get “ you forth from among my people ; Go ! Begone! ” 1 Mark xiv. 15, sqq. 2 Dial. c. Tryphone; Bochart, Hieroz. “ de Agno Pascliali.” Lect. V. THE PASSOVER. 135 The guests of each household at the moment of the meal rose from their sitting and recumbent posture, and stood round the table on their feet. Their feet, usually bare within the house, were shod as if for a journey. Each member of the household, even the women, had staffs in their hands, as if for an imme¬ diate departure; the long Eastern garments of the men were girt up, for the same reason, round their loins. The roasted lamb was torn to pieces, each snatching and grasping in his eager fingers the mor¬ sel which he might not else have time to eat. Not a fragment is left for the morning, which will find them gone and far away. The cakes of bread which they broke and ate were tasteless from the want of leaven, which there had been no leisure to prepare; and, as on that fatal midnight they “ took their dough “ before it was leavened, their kneading troughs being “ bound up in their clothes on their shoulders,” so the recollection of this characteristic incident was stamped into the national memory by the prohibition of every kind of leaven or ferment, for seven whole days dur¬ ing the celebration of the feast — the feast, as it was from this cause named, of unleavened bread. And, finally, in the subsequent union of later and earlier usages, the thanksgiving for their deliverance was always present. The reminiscence of their bondage was kept up by the mess of bitter herbs, which gave a relish to the supper; and that bitter cup again was sweetened by the festive character which ran through the whole transaction, and gave it in later genera¬ tions what in its first institution it could hardly have had, — its full social and ecclesiastical aspect ; the wine- cups of blessing, and the long-sustained hymn from the 113th to the 118th Psalm, of which the thrilling 136 THE EXODUS. lect. v. parts must always have been those which sing how “ Israel came out of Egypt; ” 1 how u not unto them, “not unto them, but unto Jehovah’s name was the “ praise to be given for ever and ever.” 2 So lived on for centuries the tradition of the De¬ liverance from Egypt; and so it lives on still, chiefly in the Hebrew race, but, in part, in the Christian Church also. Alone of all the Jewish festivals, the Passover has outlasted the Jewish polity, has over¬ leaped the boundary between the Jewish and Chris¬ tian communities. With the other festivals of the Israelites we have no concern: even the name of the weekly festival of the Sabbath only continues amongst us by a kind of recognized solecism, and its day has been studiously changed. But the name of the Pas¬ chal feast in the largest proportion of Christendom is still, unaltered, the name of the greatest Christian holiday. The Paschal Lamb, in deed or in word, is become to us symbolical of the most sacred of all events. The Easter full moon, which has so long regulated the calendars of the Christian world, is, one may say, the lineal successor of the bright moonlight which shed its rays over the palm-groves of Egypt on the fifteenth night of the month Nisan ; Jew and Chris¬ tian, at that season, both celebrate what is to a cer¬ tain extent a common festival; even the most sacred ordinance of the Christian religion is, in its outward form, a relic of the Paschal Supper, accompanied by hymn and thanksgiving, in the upper chamber of a Jewish household. The nature of the bread which is administered in one large section of the Christian Church bears witness, by its round unleavened wafers, to its Jewish origin, and to the disorder of the hour 1 Ps. cxiv. 1. 2 Ps. cxv. 1. Lect. V. THE FLIGHT. 137 when it was first eaten. And as, in the course of history, ecclesiastical as well as civil, events the most remote and the most trivial constantly ramify into strange and unlooked-for consequences, — the attempt of the Latin Church to perpetuate, and of the Eastern Church to cast off, this historical con¬ nection with the peculiar usage of the ancient people from which they both sprang, became one of the chief causes or pretexts of their final rupture from each other. It is difficult to conceive the migration of a wdiole nation under such circumstances. This diffi- The Flight, culty, amongst others, has induced the well-known French commentator 1 on the Exodus, with every desire of maintaining the letter of the narrative, to reduce the numbers of the text from 600,000 to 600 armed men. The great German scholar defends the correctness of the original numbers. 2 In illustration of the event, a sudden retreat is recorded of a whole nomadic people, — 400,000 Tartars, — under cover of a single night, from the confines of Russia into their native deserts, as late as the close of the last century. 3 We may leave the question to the critical analysis of the text and of the probabilities of the case, and con¬ fine ourselves to what remains equally true under either hypothesis. Those who have seen the start of the great caravans of pilgrims in the East may form some notion of the silence and order with which even very large masses break up from their encampments, and, as in this instance, usually in the darkness and the cool of the night, set out on their journey, the torches flaring before them, the train of camels and 1 Laborde on Exodus and Numbers. 3 See Bell’s History of Russia , ii. 2 Ewald, ii. 253, sqq. App. C. 18 138 THE EXODUS. lect. v. asses spreading far and wide through the broad level desert. From Eameses the first start was made. This the Rameses, Septuagint fixed on the north-east skirts of the Delta, and to the same locality we are directed by the most recent discoveries. All that follows is wrapt in too great an obscurity to justify any de¬ tailed description. The spots are indeed named with an exactness which provokes and tantalizes in propor¬ tion to the certainty with which they must once have been known, and the uncertainty which has rested upon them since. Still the general direction of the flight, and the general features of the resting-places may be gathered. Southeastward they went, — not by the short and direct road to Palestine, but by the same circuitous route, through the wilderness of the Red Sea, which their ancestors had followed in bear¬ ing away the body of Jacob, as now they were bear¬ ing off, with different thoughts and aims, the coffin which contained the embalmed remains of Joseph. The nomenclature of the several halts indicates some¬ thing of the country through which they passed. The Succoth, first was “ Succoth,” — the place of “ booths ” or “ leafy hats” — the last spot where they could have found the luxuriant foliage of tamarisk and sycamore and palm, “ branches of thick trees to make booths, “ as it is written.” How deeply that first resting-place was intended to be sunk into their remembrance may be gathered from the fact, that this, rather than any of the numerous halts in their later wanderings, was selected to be represented after their entrance into Feast of Palestine, as a memorial of their stay in the Taberna- 7 J cies, wilderness. The Feast of Tabernacles, or Suc¬ coth, was a feast not of tents,— but of huts woven Lect. V. PASSAGE OF THE RED SEA. 139 together from “the boughs of goodly trees, branches “ of palm-trees, and the boughs of thick trees, and “willows of the brook,” that “all their generations “might know that the Lord made the children of “ Israel to dwell in booths, when He brought them up “out of the land of Egypt.” 1 It was the first step that involved the whole; it was the first step, there¬ fore, the last lingering on the confines of Egyptian vegetation and civilization, the first step into the wan¬ dering state of the desert, that was to be hence¬ forward commemorated. The next halt was Etham. Etham , on “the edge of the wilderness.” Cities they had left behind them at Eameses; the groves and villages they had left behind at Succoth; the green land of Egypt, cut off as with a knife from the hard desert tract on which they now entered, they left behind at Etham. They were now fairly in the wil¬ derness. And now came the command “ to turn,” not to go straight forward, as they would have expected, round the head of the gulf, hut “ to turn ” and “ encamp be- “ tween Migdol and the sea, beside the sea, before “ Pi-hahiroth, over against Baal-zephon.” Here is ex¬ actly a case of that precision which guaran- Passage J 11 n 1 of the Red tees to us that the spot was once well known, Sea. yet which now serves us but little. 2 Could we but discover the site of the pastures of Pi-hahiroth (such must be the meaning of that Egyptian word) or the sanctuary of Typhon (such must be the meaning of Baal-zephon), the controversy respecting the locality and the nature of the passage of the Red Sea would be at an end. As it is, we are led in two opposite directions, — on the one hand, the extreme northern 2 Sinai and Palestine, 34-37. 1 Lev. xxiii. 40-43. 140 THE EXODUS. Lect. V. point (beyond the spot where the present gulf ter¬ minates, but to which it must anciently have extend¬ ed) is indicated by the mention of Migdol, which can hardly be any other than the well-known town or tower called by the Greeks Magdolon; on the other hand, the narrative of Josephus speaks distinctly of “ the mountain ” as that which 66 entangled and shut “ them in,” which can be no other than the lofty range of the Jebel Attaka, the Mountain of Deliver¬ ance, south of the modern Suez. But whichever of these it be, the narrative compels us to look for the passage somewhere near the head of the then gulf, whence the width would be such as to allow the host to pass over in a single night, and the waters to be parted by the means described, namely, by a strong wind. 1 The ancient theory adopted by the Rabbinical and early Christian writers, that the Israelites merely performed a circuit in the sea and returned again to the Egyptian shores, will now be maintained by no one who has any regard to the dignity of the story or the grandeur of the event described. Dismissing, therefore, these geographical considerations, we may fix our minds on the essential features of this great deliverance, as it will be acknowledged without dis¬ pute by every reader. The Israelites were encamped on the western shore of the Red Sea, when suddenly a cry of alarm ran through the vast multitude. Over the ridges 2 of the desert hills were seen the well-known horses, the ter¬ rible chariots of the Egyptian host: “ Pharaoh pursued “ after the children of Israel, and they were sore “ afraid.” 1 Not necessarily “ east.” See LXX. 2 Philo, V. M. i. 30. (Ex. xiv. 21), and Philo, V. Mi. 32. Lect. y. PASSAGE OF THE RED SEA. 141 “ They were sore afraid; ” and in that terror and perplexity the sun went down behind the huge moun¬ tain-range which rose on their rear, and cut off their return to Egypt; and the dark night 1 fell over the waters of the sea which rolled before them and cut off their advance into the desert. So closed in upon them that evening; where were they when the morn¬ ing broke over the hills of Arabia? where were they, and where were their enemies ? They stood in safety on the further shore; and the chariots, and the horsemen, and the host of Pha* raoh had vanished in the waters. Let us calmly con¬ sider, so far as our knowledge will allow us, the ex¬ tent of such a deliverance, effected at a moment so critical. First, we must observe what may be called the whole change of the situation. They had Passage f rom A passed in that night from Africa to Asia; to Asia: they had crossed one of the great boundaries which divide the quarters of the world; a thought always thrilling, how much more when we reflect on what a transition it involved to them. Behind the African hills, which rose beyond the Red Sea, lay the strange land of their exile and bondage, — the land of Egypt with its mighty river, its immense buildings, its mon¬ ster-worship, its grinding tyranny, its overgrown civ¬ ilization. This they had left to revisit no more: the Red Sea flowed between them; u the Egyptians whom “ they saw yesterday they will now see no more again “ for ever.” And before them stretched the level plains of the Arabian desert, the desert where their fathers and their kindred had wandered in former times, Being the 18th or 19th of the month, the moon would not rise till some hours after nightfall. 142 THE EXODUS. Lect. V. where their great leader had fed the flocks of Jethro, through which they must advance onwards till they from slavery reach the Land of Promise. Further, this to freedom, c h an g e 0 f local situation was at once a change of moral condition. From slaves they had become free; from an oppressed tribe they had become an independent nation. It is their deliverance from sla¬ very. It is the earliest recorded instance of a great national emancipation. In later times Religion has been so often and so exclusively associated with ideas of order, of obedience, of submission to authority, that it is well to he occasionally reminded that it has had other aspects also. This, the first epoch of our relig¬ ious history, is, in its original historical significance, the sanctification, the glorification of national inde¬ pendence and freedom. Whatever else was to suc¬ ceed to it, this was the first stage of the progress of the Chosen People. And when in the Christian Scrip¬ tures and in the Christian Church we find the Pas¬ sage of the Red Sea taken as the likeness of the moral deliverance from sin and death, — when we read in the Apocalypse of the vision of those who stand victorious on the shores of “the glassy sea “ mingled with fire, having the harps of God and “ singing the song of Moses the servant of God, and “ the song of the Lamb,” — these are so many sacred testimonies to the importance, to the sanctity of free¬ dom, to the wrong and the misery of injustice, op¬ pression, and tyranny. The word “ Redemption,” which has now a sense far holier and higher, first entered into the circle of religious ideas at the time when God “ redeemed His people from the house of bond- “ age.” But it was not only the fact but the mode of their Lect. V. PASSAGE OF THE RED SEA. 143 deliverance which made this event so remarkable in itself ; in its applications; and in its lasting con- Its myste- r ious sequences. We must place it before us, if character, possible, not as we conceive it from pictures and from our own imaginations, but as in the words of the Sacred narrative, illustrated by the Psalmist, and by the commentary of Josephus and Philo. 1 The Passage, as thus described, was effected not in the calmness and clearness of daylight, but in the depth of mid¬ night, amidst the roar of the hurricane which caused the sea to go back — amidst a darkness lit up only by the broad glare of the lightning as 66 the Lord “ looked out ” from the thick darkness of the cloud. “ The waters saw Thee, 0 God, the waters saw Thee u and were afraid ; the depths also were troubled. The u clouds poured out w^ater; the air thundered; Thine “ arrows went abroad; the voice of Thy thunder was “ heard round about; the lightnings shone upon the “ ground ; the earth was moved and shook withal.” 2 We know not, they knew not, by what precise means the deliverance was wrought: we know not by what precise track through the gulf the passage was effected. We know not, and we need not know; the obscurity, the mystery, here as elsewhere, was part of the les¬ son. “ God’s way was in the sea, and His paths in u the great waters, and Ilis footsteps were not known!’ All that we see distinctly is, that through this dark and terrible night, with the enemy pressing close be¬ hind, and the driving sea on either side, He “led His “ people like sheep by the hand of Moses and Aaron.” Long afterwards was the recollection preserved in 1 V. M. i. 32. history as given by Josephus (Ant. ii. 2 That the storm of rain, thunder, 16, § 3), and Philo (V. M. i. 32), and lightning is a genuine part of the appears from Ps. lxxvii. 12-21. 144 THE EXODUS. Lect. V, all their religious imagery. Living as they did apart from all maritime pursuits, yet their poetry, their devotion, abounds with expressions which can be traced back only to this beginning of their national history. They had been literally “ baptized unto “ Moses in the cloud and in the sea.” And, as in the case of the early Christians, the plunge in the baptis¬ mal bath was never forgotten, so even in the dry in¬ land valleys of Palestine, danger and deliverance were always expressed by the visions of sea and storm. “ All Thy waves and storms are gone over me.” “ The springs of waters were seen, and the foundations “ of the round world were discovered at Thy chiding, “ 0 Lord, at the blasting of the breath of Thy dis- “ pleasure.He drew me out of many waters.” Their whole national existence was a thanksgiving, a votive tablet, for their deliverance in and from and through the Eed Sea. But another and a still more abiding impression its provi- was that this deliverance — the first and great- character. est in their history — was effected, not by their own power, but by the power of God. There are moments in the life both of men and of nations, both of the world and of the Church, when vast blessings are gained, vast dangers averted, through our own exertions, — by the sword of the conqueror, by the genius of the statesman, by the holiness of the saint. Such, in Jewish history, was the conquest of Palestine by Joshua, the deliverances wrought by Gideon, by Samson, and by David. Such, in Christian history ? were the revolutions effected by Clovis, by Charle¬ magne, by Alfred, by Bernard, and by Luther. But there are moments of still higher interest, of still more solemn feeling, when deliverance is brought about not Lect. V. THE PASSAGE OF THE RED SEA. 145 by any human energy, but by causes beyond our own control. Such, in Christian history, are the raising of the siege of Leyden and the overthrow of the Armada, and such, above all, was the Passage of the Red Sea. Whatever were the means employed by the Al¬ mighty — whatever the path which He made for Him¬ self in the great waters, it was to Him, and not to themselves, that the Israelites were compelled to look as the source of their escape. “Stand still 1 and see “ the salvation of Jehovah,” was their only duty. “ Jehovah hath triumphed gloriously,” was their only song of victory. It was a victory into which no feel¬ ing of pride or self-exaltation could enter. It was a fit opening of a history and of a character, which was to be specially distinguished from that of other races by its constant and direct dependence on the Supreme Judge and Ruler of the world. Greece and Rome could look back with triumph to the glorious days when they had repulsed their invaders, had risen on their tyrants, or driven out their kings. But the birthday of Israel,—the birthday of the religion, of the liberty, of the nation, of Israel,— was the Passage of the Red Sea; — the likeness in this, as in so many other respects, of the yet greater events in the begin¬ nings of the Christian Church, of which it has been long considered the anticipation and the emblem. 2 It was the commemoration, not of what man has wrought for God, but of what God has wrought for man. No baser thoughts, no disturbing influences, could mar the overwhelming sense of thankfulness with which, as if after a hard-won battle, the nation found 1 See the celebrated sermon of Dr. Pusey on that text, Nov. 5, 1837. 19 2 Ewald, ii. 94. 146 MOSES AND THE EXODUS. Lect. V. its voice in the first Hebrew melody, in the first burst of national poetry, 1 when Moses and the children of Israel met on the Arabian shore, met “Miriam the Prophetess, the sister of Aaron,” the third member, the eldest born, of that noble family, whose name now first appears in the history of the Church, after¬ wards to become so renowned through its Grecian and European form of Maria and Mary. She came forth, as was the wont of Hebrew women after some great victory, to meet the triumphant host, with her Egyptian timbrels, and with dances of her country¬ women, — Miriam, who had watched her infant brother by the riverside, and now greeted him as the deliv¬ erer of her people, or rather, if we may with rever¬ ence say so, greeted the Divine Deliverer, by the new and awful Name, now first clearly proclaimed to her family and her nation: “ Sing unto Jehovah, for He is ‘ lifted up on liigh, on high/ The horse and his rider hath He thrown into the sea. My strength and song is Jah, and He is become my salvation. He is my God, and I will praise Him; my father’s God, and I will exalt Him. Jehovah is a man of war, Jehovah is His name. Pharaoh’s chariots and his host hath He cast into the sea. His chosen captains also are drowned in the Red Sea. The depths covered them, they sank to the bottom as a stone. Thy right hand, Jehovah, is become glorious in power: Thy right hand, Jehovah, hath dashed in pieces the enemy. And in the greatness of Thy height Thou hast overthrown them that rose up against Thee. Thou sentest forth Thy wrath, which consumed them as stubble: And with the blast of Thy nostrils the waters were gathered together: The floods stood upright as a heap; the depths were congealed in the heart of the sea: The enemy said I will pursue, I will devastate, I will divide the spoil: my desire shall be satisfied upon them: I will draw my sword, my hand shall destroy them. 1 Compare Maurice’s History of Moral and Metaphysical Philosophy , 11 I Lect. V. MOSES AND THE EXODUS. 147 Thou didst blow with Thy blast; the sea covered them: they sank like lead in the mighty waters. Who is like unto Thee, Jehovah, amongst the gods? Who is like unto Thee, glorious in holiness, fearful in praises, doing wonders ? Jehovah shall reign for ever and ever.” 148 THE WILDERNESS. Lect. VL LECTURE VI. THE WILDERNESS. From the Exodus begins the great period of the The com- life of Moses. On that night, he is described Sfoses. 80 as first taking the decisive lead. Up to that point he and Aaron and Miriam 1 appear almost on an equality. But after that, Moses is usually men¬ tioned alone. Aaron still held the second place, but the character of interpreter to Moses which he had borne in speaking to Pharaoh is withdrawn, and it would seem as if Moses henceforth became altogether, what hitherto he had only been in part, the Prophet of the people. Miriam, too, though always holding the independent position to which her age entitled her, no more appears as lending her voice and song to enforce her brother’s prophetic power. Another who occupies a place nearly equal to Aaron, though we know but little of him, is Hur, of the tribe of Judah, husband of Miriam, and grandfather of the artist Bezaleel. The guide in regard to the route through the wilderness was, as we shall see, Jethro : the servant, occupying the same relation as Elisha afterwards to Elijah, or Gehazi to Elisha, was the youthful Hoshea, afterwards Joshua. But Moses is incontestably the chief personage of 1 I sent before thee Moses and Aaron and Miriam (Micah vi. 4). Lect. VI. MOSES AS A LEADER. 149 the whole history. In the narrative, the phrase is constantly recurring, “ The Lord spake unto Importance “ Moses,” “ Moses spake unto the children of of Mose8, “ Israel.” In the traditions of the desert, whether late or early, his name predominates over that of every one else: “The Wells of Moses” on the shores of the Red Sea, “The Mountain of Moses” (Jebel Musa) near the convent of S. Catherine, “ The Ravine of Moses” (Shuk Musa) at Mount S. Catherine, “The Valley of Moses” (Wady Musa) at Petra. “The Books of Moses” are so called (as afterwards the Books of Samuel), in all probability, from his being the chief subject of them. The very word “Mosaic” has been in later times applied, in a sense not used of any other saint of the Old Testament, to the whole religion of which he was the expounder. 1 It has sometimes been attempted to reduce this great character into a mere passive instrument of the Divine Will, as though he had himself borne no con¬ scious part in the actions in which he figures, or the messages which he delivers. This, however, is as in¬ compatible with the general tenor of the Scriptural account, as it is with the common language in which he has been described by the Church in all ages. The frequent addresses of the Divinity to him no more contravene his personal activity and intelligence, than in the case of Elijah, Isaiah, or S. Paul. In the New Testament the legislation of the Jews is expressly ascribed to him. “Moses gave you circumcision.” 2 1 Even as applied to tessellated the representative of the religion of pavement (“ mosaic,” musivum, gov- Moses (see an Essay of Redslob, Zeit- aetov, govaainbv ), there is some proba- schrift der Deutsch. Morgenl. GeseUs. bility that the expression is derived xiv. 663). from the variegated pavement of the 2 John vii. 22. ’ater Temple, which had then become 150 THE WILDERNESS. Lect. VI. “Moses, because of the hardness of your hearts, suf¬ fered you ” 1 “ Did not Moses give you the law? ” 2 Moses “accuseth you ” 3 S. Paul goes so far as to speak of him as the founder of the Jewish religion: “ They were all baptized unto Moses ” 4 He is con¬ stantly called “a Prophet.” In the ancient language both of Jews and Christians, he was known as a the great Lawgiver,” a the great Theologian,” a the great Statesman ” 5 He must be considered, like all the saints and heroes of the Bible, as a man of marvel¬ lous gifts, raised up by Divine Providence for the highest purpose to which men could be called; and so, in a lesser degree, his name has been applied in later times: Ulfilas was called after him the Moses of the Goths; Arpad, the Moses of the Hungarians; Benedict, the Moses of the Monastic Orders. The union of the Leader and the Prophet was such as Eastern religion has always admitted more easily than Western. Mahomet, Abd-el-kader, Schamyl, are all illustrations of its possibility. But, amongst the heroes and saints of the true religion, no such union occurs again after Moses. This double career may be divided into three parts: the approach by Rephidim to Sinai; the stay at Sinai; the march from Sinai to Palestine by Kadesh and by Moab. In the first and third of these he appears chiefly as the Leader; in the second, as the Prophet. Whatever is to be said on minute matters of topography has been said else¬ where ; and, with regard to all the details of the Israelite journey, there are many reasons why we should be content to remain in suspense for the pres- 1 Matt, xviii. 3. 2 John vii. 19. 3 John v. 45, 4 1 Cor. x. 2. 5 All these terms are freely used in Euseb. Prazp. Evang. vii. 8 ; Philo, V. M. i. 80; Clem. Alex. Strom, i. 22, 24. Lect. VI. ITS UNCERTAINTIES. 151 ent. Long as the desert of Sinai has been known to Christian pilgrims, yet it may almost be said never to have been explored before the beginning of this cen¬ tury. We are still at the threshold of our knowledge concerning it. The older travellers never troubled themselves to compare the general features of the desert with the indications of the Sacred narrative, and therefore they usually missed the cardi- uncertain- nal points of dispute. A signal instance of Desert, this may be seen in the travels of Pococke, Professor of Hebrew at Oxford in the seventeenth century, who, taking with him all the Oriental learning which that office implies, yet gives an account of the Sinaitic des¬ ert, such as entirely conceals from us the very localities which are most important for the whole comparison of the history and geography. He says nothing of the plain at the foot of one of the claimants to the name of Sinai; he says nothing of the commanding mountain which from the earliest times has been the other claimant. He went through the sacred locali¬ ties with his eyes closed to the impressions which all now see to be most important and most significant. We are still therefore in the condition of discoverers, and if we are thus compelled to abstain from positive conclusions, it is a suspense which we need not be afraid to avow, and which in this instance is the less inconvenient, because the very uniformity of nature by which it is occasioned also enables us to form an image of the general scenes, even where the particu¬ lar scene is unknown; and many will feel at a dis¬ tance, what many, I doubt not, have felt on the spot, that, in speaking of such sacred events, uncertainty is the best safeguard for reverence; and suspense as to the exact details of form and locality is the most 152 THE WILDERNESS. Lect. VI. fitting approach for the consideration of the presence of Him who has “ made darkness His secret place, His “ pavilion round about Him with dark water, and thick “ clouds to cover them .” 1. In the flight from Egypt, the people of Israel disappear once more from the view of the Gentile world. The notices, scanty as they were, which we have of their earlier history, almost entirely cease on their entrance into the desert. A solitary glimpse of their wanderings, recorded by Tacitus, is all that has penetrated into Pagan records. He relates 1 how, in the absence of water, they threw themselves on the ground in despair, when a herd of wild asses guided them to a rock overshadowed by palm-trees, where Moses discovered for them a copious spring. A seven days’ journey brought them to Palestine ; and the sab¬ bath was instituted to commemorate their safe arri¬ val within that period, as their deliverance from thirst in the desert was commemorated by the erection of the image of an ass in their most holy place. On this scene the curtain falls, and, as far as the Western world is concerned, it is no more lifted up, till Pom- pey entered the Holy of Holies, and found, not as he doubtless expected this strange memorial of the wil¬ derness, but “ vacuam sedem, inania arcana.” 2 To us, on the other hand, the history which fills Theim- this space, and especially the earlier portion the 4 wilder- of it, has become almost a part of our minds. Christian The onward march of the history, the suc- history; cessive localities through which it takes us, at least till the conquest of Canaan, are an epitome of human life itself. The reaction which followed at the Waters of Strife, upon the exultation of the Pas- 1 Hist. v. 3. 2 Tacitus, Hist. v. 9. Lect. VI. ITS IMPORTANCE TO JEWISH HISTORY. 153 sage of the Red Sea, has been fitly described as the likeness of the reaction which, from the days of Moses downwards, has followed on every great national emancipation, on every just and beneficent revolution; when “ the evils which it has caused are felt, and the “ evils which it has removed are felt no longer.” 1 The wilderness, as it intervenes between Egypt and the Land of Promise, with all its dangers and conso¬ lations, is, as Coleridge would have said, not allegori¬ cal, hut tautegorical, of the events which in almost unconscious metaphor we designate by those figures. It is startling, as we traverse it even at this day, to feel that the hard stony track under our feet, the springs to which we look forward at the end of our day’s march, the sense of contrast with what has been and with what is to be, are the very materials out of which the imagination of all ages has constructed its idea of the journey of life. But this period had a special bearing on the history of Israel. It was their beginning as a people : t0 Jewigh it was their conversion or their reconversion hlstory; to the true faith ; it had all the faults and all the ex¬ cellences which such a new start of life always pre¬ sents. With all its faults and shortcomings, it was the spring-time of their national existence. “I remember “thee, the kindness of thy youth, the love of thine “ espousals, when thou wentest after Me in the wilder- “ness, in a land that was not sown.” 2 “When Israel “was a child, then I loved him.” 3 The Law, we are told, was “ a school-master to bring men to Christ.” “ Mount Sinai in Arabia ” is opposed, both in prepara¬ tion and in contrast, to the heavenly and free Jerusa- 1 Macaulay’s History of England , 2 Jer. ii. 2. ;h. xi. 3 Hos. xi. 1. 20 154 THE WILDERNESS. Lect. VI. lem which is above. But, even in the earlier stages of the history of the Jewish Church, the Law was a school-master, and Mount Sinai was a school, for the dispensation and for the possession even of the earthly Jerusalem. 2. It is difficult, under the circumstances, to con- its pecu- ceive a fitter scene for a new revelation than lianties. was w iid e rness of Sinai to the Israelites. They had left the land of Egypt: they had come out of the house of bondage, into a land as different, into a life as new, as it was possible to conceive. Instead of the green valley of the one abundant, beneficent river, where water and vegetation never failed, they were in “the great and terrible wilderness,” where a spring in each day’s march, — the bitter waters of Marah here, the isolated grove of Elim there, — was all that they could expect to cheer them. Instead of the endless life and stir which ran through the teem¬ ing population of Egypt, the song and dance and feast; the armies passing through the hundred gates; the flags with their brilliant colors flying from the painted gateways; the king at the head of vast pro¬ cessions with drum and cymbal, and the rattle of his thousand chariots; there was the deep silence of the desert broken by no echo of human voice, by no cry of innumerable birds, by no sound of rushing waters, — broken only by the trumpet, which at early dawn and fall of day roused the tribes from their slumbers, or called them to their rest. For a time the Red Sea was in sight. Once, after they had struck far into the desert, the hills opened 1 before them (we may be allowed to dwell upon it as the most authentic spot ascertainable in their wanderings), and the familiar 1 Num. xxxiii. 10. See Sinai and Palestine, 38, 70. Lect. VI. ITS PECULIARITIES. 155 sea, their ancient enemy and their ancient friend, burst with its flashing waters upon them, and they encamped once more upon its shining beach; and looked once more upon the distant range of the Afri¬ can hills, the hills of the land of their captivity. It was a moment, such as occurs from time to time in the history of men and of nations to remind them from what dangers and by what means they have es¬ caped. Onwards they went, and the desert itself now changed into vaster and stranger shapes than they had ever known before. Here and there, it may be, amongst the host, was an Israelite vdio had seen the granite hills of Ethiopia; but, taking them generally, the ascent of these tremendous passes, the sight of those towering peaks, must have been to them as the awful retreats of Delphi to the invaders of Greece, as the Alps to the invaders of Italy. Rumors of these mysterious mountains no doubt had reached them even in their house of bondage. “A three days’ journey “into the desert to sacrifice to the Lord” was a pro¬ posal not unfamiliar to the ears of Pharaoh: and, as they now mounted into the higher region of that desert, they would perceive traces that the Egyptians had been there before them. Here they might see a lonely hill, surrounded by ancient monuments, — sepul¬ chres, temples, quarries, — unquestionably the work of Egyptian hands. 1 There they would see, in a retired valley, hieroglyphics carved deep in the soft sandstone rock, extending back to the builder of the great pyramid, whose figure can be traced here in the desert cliffs, when it has perished everywhere in his own tomb and country. But no report, no experience of individuals, could have prepared them for the scene, 1 Sinai and Palestine , 24, 49. 156 THE WILDERNESS. Lect. VI. as it must have presented itself to a whole host (tak¬ ing it at its largest or its smallest numbers) scaling that fortress, that towering outpost of the Holy Land. Staircase after staircase, formed by no human hand in the side of the rocky walls, brought them (by what¬ ever approach they came) into the loftier and still loftier regions of the mountain platform. Well may the Arab tribes suppose that these rocky ladders were called forth by the rod of Moses, to help their upward progress. 1 3. And now they approach the first great halting- Rephidim. place, known by that special name Rephidim , ‘‘the places of rest.” We know not the spot with certainty. Yet of all localities hitherto imagined, that which was believed to be so in the fifth century at least answers the requirements well; — the beautiful palm-grove, now and for many ages past called the valley of Paran or Feiran. At any rate some such spot is implied both by the name and by the twofold encounter which here for the first time occurs with the native tribes of the desert. We are too much accustomed to think that the Pen¬ insula of Sinai, when the Israelites passed through, was entirely uninhabited. This, however, is not the case even now, still less was it so then. Two main streams of population at present occupy the pastures of the wilderness, and two also appear at the time Amalek. of the Israelite migration. The first was the great tribe of Amalek, ruled, as it would seem, by a chief who bore the title of king, and the hereditary name of Agag, 2 —themselves a wide-spreading clan,— “first of the nations;” 3 and, like the feebler Bedouins 1 Sinai and Palestine, 71. 3 Num. xxiv. 20. 2 Num. xxiv. 7; 1 Sam. xv. Lect. VI. REPHIDIM. 157 of modern days, extending their excursions far into Palestine, and leaving their name, even before history commences, on mountains in the centre of the coun¬ try. 1 This fierce tribe, occupying as it would seem the whole north of the peninsula, were, as might natu¬ rally be expected, the first to contest the entrance of the new people. Wherever Rephidim may be, Battle of it was evidently a place of sufficient impor- Re P hldlm - tance to induce the Amalekites to defend it to the uttermost. According to the account of Josephus, they had gathered to this spot all the forces of the desert tribes from Petra to the Mediterranean, and, accord¬ ing to a portion of the Mosaic narrative, they began the attack by harassing the rear of the Israelite host. It is a scene of which the significance is indicated, not so much by the description of the event itself, as by its accompaniments and its consequences. The battle is fought and won by the youthful warrior w r ho here appears for the first time, — Joshua, the Ephraim- ite. But Moses is on “ the hill,” overlooking the fight; he stands, in the Oriental attitude of prayer, his hands stretched out, as if to draw down and receive bless¬ ings from above. Beside him, holding up his arms as they fail from weariness, are his brother and (if we may trust Josephus 2 ) his brother-in-law, one whose name occurs but seldom, yet always so as to show a high importance beyond what we are actually told concerning him, Hur, of the tribe of Judah, grand¬ father of the builder of the tabernacle, husband of the prophetess Miriam. The victory is gained; and n the summit of the hill was erected a rude altar, 1 Judg. v. 14 ; xii. 15. Compare also north of Jerusalem. Robinson, Bib the “ Tombs of the Amalekites,” an- j Res. iii. 287. 3ient monuments so called, a few miles 2 Jos. Ant. iii. 2, 4. 158 THE WILDERNESS. Lect. YI. named or inscribed by two words signifying “ Jehovah is my banner;” and a fragment of the hymn of victory was transmitted through Joshua to after-ages, probably in the book of the Wars of Jehovah, “ As “ the hand is on the throne of Jehovah, 1 so there “ shall be war between Jehovah and Amalek from “ generation to generation ” The situation well ac¬ cords with the spot consecrated in Christian times as the sanctuary of Paran. In the fifth century, a city, a church, an episcopal palace, had gathered round it; and pilgrims flocked to it in considerable numbers. In the Jewish Church the memory of the first ene¬ my of the Chosen People was long preserved; and the slaughter which Joshua had begun was carried out to extermination, first under Saul and then under David. Its last trace appears in the offensive name of “ Agagite,” applied to Haman in the book of Esther. This was the first hostile encounter. Immediately in connection with this we read of the friendly encounter with that other tribe, which is here frequently mentioned in the same close contact and contrast with Amalek. On the shores, as it would seem, of the Gulf of Akaba, dwelt the Kenites, a clan Jethro. of the vast tribe of Midian. We have already seen its Chief or Priest, variously named Jethro or Hobab (which in the form 2 of Shouaib is his usual Arab designation at the present day). Of all the characters that come across us in this stage of their history, he is the purest type of the Arabian chief. In the sight of his numerous flocks feeding round the well in Midian, in his courtesy to the stranger who The Kenites. 1 Exod. xvii. 16; see a similar ex- 2 Ewald, Geschichte, ii. 59, note, pression as an adjuration in Gen. xiv. 22, and Deut. xxxii. 40. Lect. VI. THE KENITES. 159 became at once his slave and his son-in-law, we seem to be carried back to the days of Jacob and Laban. And now the old chief, 1 attracted from far by the tidings of his kinsman’s fame finds him out in the heart of the mountains of Sinai, “ encamped by the “ Mount of God.” “ I, Jethro, thy father-in-law, am “ come unto thee, and thy wife, and her two sons “ with her. And Moses went out to meet his father- “ in-law, and did obeisance, and kissed him,” — gave the full Arab salutation on each side of the head,— “ and they asked each other of their welfare,” — the burst of question and answer, which renders these meetings so vociferous at first, rapidly subsiding into total silence, as then, hand in hand, “they come into “ the tent,” and confer privately of what each really wishes to know. He listens, and with his own priestly sanctity acknowledges the greatness of his kinsman’s God; he officiates (if one may so say) like a second Melchizedek, the High Priest of the Desert; “ he took “ a burnt offering and sacrifices for God; and Aaron “ came,” even Aaron the future priest of Israel, “ and “ all the elders of Israel, to eat bread,” to join in the solemn feast of thanksgiving, “with Moses’ father-in- “law, before God.” He is the first friend, the first counsellor, the first guide, that they have met, since they cut themselves off from the wisdom of Egypt, and they hang upon his lips like children. He sees Moses wearing himself away by undertaking labor that is too heavy for him; and he suggests to him the same subordination of rulers and judges, of elders or sheiks, that still forms the constitution of the Arabs of the peninsula; and “Moses hearkened to the 1 In the Mussulman traditions he ous El Khudr. (See D'Herbelot , is here represented as the mysteri- “Moussa.”) 160 THE WILDERNESS. Lect. VI “ voice of his father-in-law, and did all that he had “ said.” And out of this simple arrangement sprang the gradations that we trace long afterwards in the constitution of the Hebrew commonwealth. “ And “ when he was to depart to his own land and to his “ own kindred, Moses prayed him not to leave them ; ” in the trackless desert, he, with his Bedouin instincts and his knowledge of the wilderness, would “ know “ how they were to encamp, and would be to them “ instead of eyes.” The alliance so formed was never broken. In subsequent ages, when Israel had long since become a settled and civilized people, in their own land, a stranger’s eye would have at once dis¬ cerned little groups of settlers here and there retain¬ ing their Arabian customs, yet one with the masters of the soil. In the caverns of Engedi, on the south¬ ern frontier of Judah, the “children of the Kenite” were to be seen dwelling among the people. The valley opening down from the east to the Jordan, opposite Jericho, still bears the name of Hobab. Far in the north, by Kedesh-Naphtali, a grove of oaks was called from the nomad encampment hard by, “ the oak of the loading of tents.” It is the tent of Heber the Kenite, whose wife Jael will make use of the show of Arabian hospitality to slay the enemy of Israel. In the streets of Jerusalem, during the final siege, a band of wild Arabs will be seen, dwelling in tents, drinking no wine. They are “the children of “ Jehonadab the son of Kechab,” “the Kenites that came “ of Hemath the father of the house of Rechab.” 1 4. Besides the dangers from the desert tribes, this The dim- earlier stage of the wanderings also brings the Desert, out those natural difficulties of the desert- 1 Judg. i. 16, iv. 11; Jer. xxxv. 2; 1 Chron. ii. 55. Lect. VI. ITS DIFFICULTIES. 161 journey, which, through the guidance of Moses, were to be overcome. It is not here intended to enter upon the vexed question of the support of Israel in the wilderness. There are two classes of readers to whom it presents no perplexity, — those who are dis¬ posed to treat the whole as poetry rather than as history, and those who have no scruple in inventing miraculous interferences which have no foundation in the sacred narrative. 1 It concerns those only who feel the truth and soberness of the narrative too strongly to venture on either of these expedients. They, be they few or many, may be content to withhold a hasty judgment on points which the Scripture has left un¬ determined, and to which the localities and the phe¬ nomena of the desert give no certain clew. We can¬ not repudiate altogether the existence of natural causes, unless we go so far as to maintain that moun¬ tains and palm-trees, quails and waters, wind and earthquake, were mere creations of the moment to supply momentary wants; we cannot repudiate alto¬ gether the intervention of a Providence, strange, un¬ expected, and impressive, in the highest degree, unless we are prepared to reject the whole story of the stay in the wilderness. In the case of each of the main supports of the Israelites, there have been memorials preserved down to our own time, of the hold acquired on the recol¬ lections of the Jewish and the Christian Church. The flowing of the water from the rock has been L The localized in various forms by Arab traditions. water ‘ The isolated rock in the valley of the Leja, near Mount S. Catherine, with the twelve mouths, or fis¬ sures, for the twelve tribes, was pointed out as the 1 Sinai and Palestine , 24-27. 21 162 THE WILDERNESS. Lect. VX monument of the wonder at least as early as the seventh century. The living streams of Feiran, of Shuk Musa, of Wady Musa, have each been connected with the event by the names bestowed upon them. The Jewish tradition, to which the Apostle alludes, amplified the simple statement in the Pentateuch to the prodigious extent of supposing a rock or ball of water constantly accompanying them. 1 The Christian image, based upon this, passed on into the Catacombs, where Peter, under the figure of Moses, strikes the rock, from which he takes his name; and it has found its final and most elevated application in one of the greatest of English hymns,— “ Rock of Ages, cleft for me, Let me hide myself in Thee.” The manna, in like manner, according to the Jew- 2 The ish tradition of Josephus, and the belief of manna. the Arab tribes, and of the Greek Church of the present day, is still found in the droppings from the tamarisk bushes which abound in this part of the desert. 2 The more critical spirit of modern times has been led to dwell on the distinction between the ex¬ isting manna, and that described in the Book of Num¬ bers; 3 and the identification is further rendered pre¬ carious by the insufficiency of the present supply 4 in the Desert of Sinai. It became afterwards a favorite figure in Christian writings, to express the heavenly sustenance of the soul, either in the Eucharist or in our spiritual life generally. Of all the typical scenes 1 See the article “ Beer,” in Smith’s 4 In Persia, however, and in South Dictionary of the Bible. Africa, the sustenance afforded by 2 Sinai and Palestine , 26, note. this kind of manna is said to be very 3 Num. xi. 7, 8. considerable. Lect. VI. THE MANNA. 163 represented in the celebrated Ammergau Mystery, none is more natural or touching, than that in which the whole multitude of the Israelites, in every vari¬ ety of age, sex, and character, appear looking up with one ardent expectation to the downward flight of the celestial food, fluttering over the hundreds of upturned heads, according to that fanciful and child like but beautiful conception of the descent of the manna. The historical origin of this sacred figure was always carried back beyond Palestine to the desert; a portion of it was laid up as a relic 1 by the Ark for this very purpose, “that they might see the “ bread wherewith their fathers were fed in the wil¬ derness.” 2 And a Christian poet has well caught, in “ The Song of the Manna-Gatherers,” the freshness, the monotony, and the transitional character of the whole passage through the desert, and at the same time has blended together the natural and the super¬ natural in that union which is at once most Biblical and most philosophical: — “ Comrades, haste! the tent’s tall shading Lies along the level sand, Far and faint: the stars are fading O’er the gleaming western strand, Airs of morning Freshen the bleak burning land. “ Haste, or e’er the third hour glowing With its eager thirst prevail, O’er the moist pearls, now bestrowing Thymy slope and rushy vale. “ Comrades — what our sires have told us, Watch and wait, for it will come. 1 Ex. xvi. 32-34; Hebr. ix. 4. 2 John vi. 31, 49 ; 1 Cor. x. 3. 364 MOSES AND THE WANDERINGS. Lect. VI. “ Not by manna show’rs at morning Shall our board be then supplied, But a strange pale gold, adorning Many a tufted mountain’s side, Yearly feed us, Year by year our murmurings chide. “ There, no prophet’s touch awaiting, From each cool deep cavern start Bills, that since their first creating Ne’er have ceased to sing their part; Oft we hear them In our dreams, with thirsty heart .” 1 1 Keble’s Lyra Innocentium, Lect. VII. SINAI AND THE LAW. 165 4 LECTURE VII. SINAI AND THE LAW. Rephidim was but the threshold of Sinai. "In the “ third month they departed from Rephidim, March " and pitched in the wilderness of Sinai.” On- phidim. wards and upwards, after their long halt, exulting in their first victory, they advanced deeper and deeper into the mountain-ranges, they knew not whither. They knew only that it was for some great end, for some mighty sacrifice, for some solemn disclosure, such as they had never before witnessed. Onwards they went, and the mountains closed around them; upwards through winding valley, and under high clifij and over rugged pass, and through gigantic forms, on which the marks of creation even now seem fresh and powerful; and at last, through 1 all the different valleys, the whole body of the people were assembled. On their right hand and on their left rose long successions of lofty rocks, forming a vast avenue, like the approaches which they had seen leading to the Egyptian tem¬ ples between colossal figures of men and of gods. At the end of this broad avenue, rising immediately out of the level plain on which they were encamped, tow- 1 With regard to the locality I have expressions sufficiently wide to include seen no cause to alter the opinion any spot which may be selected in maintained in Sinai and Palestine , the neighborhood of Jebel Mousa. 43-44 ; but I have purposely left the 166 SINAI AND THE LAW. lect. vn. ered the massive cliffs of Sinai, like the huge altar of some natural temple; encircled by peaks of every shape and height, the natural pyramids of the desert. In this sanctuary, secluded from all earthly things, raised high above even the wilderness itself, arrived, as it must have seemed to them, at the very end of the world — they waited for the Eevelation of God. How would He make Himself known to them? Would it be, as they had seen in those ancient temples of Egypt, under the similitude of any figure, “the like- “ ness of male or female, the likeness of any beast “ that is upon the earth, or the likeness of any fowl “ that flieth in the air, or the likeness of anything that “ creepeth on the ground, or the likeness of any fish “that is in the waters under the earth?” Would it be any, or all of these forms, under which they would at last see Him, who, with a mighty hand, had brought them up out of the land of Egypt ? These questions, or like to these, are what must have occurred to the Israelites on the morning of the mighty day when they stood beneath the Mount. The outward scene might indeed prepare them for Sinai. what was to come. They stood, as I have described, in a vast sanctuary, not made with hands, — a sanctuary where every outward shape of life, ani¬ mal or vegetable, such as in Egypt had attracted their wonder and admiration, was withdrawn. Bare and un¬ clothed, the mountains rose around them; their very shapes and colors were such as to carry their thoughts back to the days of old creation, “from everlasting to “ everlasting, before the mountains were brought forth, “ or ever the earth and the world were made.” 1 At last 1 See Ps. xc. 2, ascribed to Moses. For this aspect of the mountains, see Sinai and Palestine, pp. 12, 13. Lect. VII. DARKNESS OF SINAI. 167 the morning broke, and every eye was fixed on the summit of the height. Was it any earthly form, was it anjr distinct shape, that unveiled itself ? . . . . There were thunders, there were lightnings, there was the voice of a trumpet 1 exceeding loud; but on the Mount itself there was a thick cloud—darkness, and clouds, and thick darkness. It was “ the secret place “ of thunder.” 2 On the summit of the mountain, Prophetic on the skirts of the dark cloud, or within it, Moses, was Moses himself withdrawn from view. It is this which represents to us the seclusion so essential to the Eastern idea — within certain limits, so essential to any idea — of the Prophet; that, “ Separate from the world, his breast Might deeply take and strongly keep The print of Heaven.” 1 It is well known that no volcanic phenomena exist in the desert to ac¬ count for these appearances. In fact, all the expressions used in the Sacred writers are those which are usually employed in the Hebrew Scriptures to describe a thunder-storm. For the effects of a thunder-storm at Mount Sinai, compare Dr. Stewart’s Tent and Khan , 139, 140: “Every bolt as “ it burst, with the roar of a cannon, “ seemed to awaken a series of dis- “ tinct echoes on every side; .... “ they swept like a whirlwind among “ the higher mountains, becoming “ faint as some mighty peak inter- “ vened, and bursting with undimin- “ ished volume through some yawning “ cleft, till the very ground trembled “ with the concussion. ... It seemed “ as if the mountains of the whole pen- “ insula were answering one another “ in a chorus of the deepest bass. “ Ever and anon a flash of lightning “ dispelled the pitchy darkness and “ lit up the Mount as if it had been “ day; then, after the interval of a “ few seconds, came the peal of thun- “ der, bursting like a shell, to scatter “ its echoes to the four quarters of the “ heavens, and overpowering for a “ moment the loud howlings of the “ wind.” Mr. Drew witnessed a thun¬ der-storm at Serbal, and exclaimed, unconsciously, “ How exactly like the sound of a trumpet! ” Compare the descriptions of the event in Jos. Ant. iii. 5, 2; Judg. v. 4 ; Ps. Ixviii. 7, 8, 9 ; in each of which, to the other im¬ ages of a storm, are added the torrents of rain, — “The heavens dropped;” “ The clouds dropped water; ” “A “ plentiful rain ; ” “ Violent rain.” A like description occurs in Hab. iii. 3- 11. Compare Ps. xviii. 7-16; xxix. 3-9. 2 Ps. lxxxi. 7. 168 SINAI AND THE LAW. Lect. VII. I. This was the first and chief impression, which Negative the Israelites and their leader alike were in- Revelation . . of Sinai, tended to receive at Mount Sinai. they saw not God; and yet they were to believe that He was there. They were to make no sign or likeness of God, and yet they were to believe that He was then and always their one and only Lord. How hard it was for them to receive and act on this, may be imagined from what has been said of their previous state—may be seen from their subse¬ quent history. Even on that very plain, beneath that very Mount, they could not bear to think that they were to serve a God who was invisible; they returned to Egypt in their hearts. Then ensued a scene which Josephus, after the manner of much Ecclesiastical His¬ tory of later times, shrinks from describing, but which the Sacred historian does not fear to relate at length. Aaron, the great High Priest, in the absence of his The wor- greater brother, was shaken. He framed a Caif. visible form, the likeness of the sacred beast of Heliopolis, and proclaimed it as “ the God, 1 which “ had brought them up from the land of Egypt.” An altar rose before it, like that which still exists beneath the nostrils of the Sphinx; a three days’ festival was proclaimed, with all the licentious rites of song and dance which they had learned in Egypt. And not then only, but again and again, both in the history of the Jewish and of the Christian Church, has the same temptation returned. The Priest has set up what the Prophet has destroyed. Graven images have been set up in deed or in word, to make the Unseen visible, and the Eternal temporal. But the Revelation 1 That “ Elohim ” is singular ap- xxxii. 4, and also from the parallel in pears both from the context in Ex. Neh. ix. 8. Lect. YII. PROPHETIC MISSION OF MOSES. 169 of Sinai has prevailed. Slowly and with many reverses did the great truth then first imparted gain possession of the hearts of Israel, and, through them, of the whole world, — that we are neither to imagine that we see God when we do not, nor that because we do not see Him, are we to doubt that He has been, and is, and yet shall be. This was the marvel which the Jewish worship presented, even to the best and wisest heathens who were perplexed by what seemed to them a Religion without a God. It is to us the declaration that there must be a void created by the destruction of errors, by the removal of false images of God, before we can receive the true image of the Truth itself. 1 II. But it was not only a negative form that the Revelation of Sinai assumed. This blank, this Positive void, this darkness without a similitude, this of Sinai, vague infinity, as a heathen would have called it, sup¬ plied the enthusiasm, the ardor, the practical basis of life, which most nations in the old world, and many in the modern world, have believed to be compatible only with the most elaborate imagery and the most definite statements. The idea of God in the Jewish Church, which can be traced to nothing short of Mount Sinai, was the very reverse of a negation or an abstraction. It was the absorbing thought of the national mind. It was not merely the Lord of the Universe, but u the Lord “ who had brought them out of the land of Egypt, “ out of the house of bondage.” 2 It was in the recep¬ tion and promulgation of this Revelation that the pro- 1 I cannot forbear to refer, for the amplification of this idea, to Mr. Clough’s remarkable verses (Poems, p. 27.) 2 Ewald, Geschichte, ii. 93-122. 22 170 SINAI AND THE LAW. Lect. VII. phetic character of Moses is chiefly brought out. He had been called to his prophetic mission, as we have seen, in the vision of the Burning Bush. But the mission itself, properly speaking, dates from this time, and is indicated in a form nearly corresponding to that of his original call. “ I beseech Thee, show me “ Thy glory,” was the petition which burst from the Prophet in the hour of bitter disappointment and iso¬ lation, when he found that his brother and his people had fallen away from him. The wish was thoroughly Egyptian. The same is recorded of Amenoph, 1 the Pharaoh preceding the Exodus. But the difference in the answer to the two prayers well expresses the dif¬ ference between the Egyptian and the Mosaic religion. “ Thou canst not see My face, for there shall no man “ see Me and live.” He was commanded to hew two blocks like those which he had destroyed. He was to come absolutely alone. Even the flocks and herds which fed in the neighboring valleys were to be re¬ moved out of sight of the mountain. He took his place on a well-known or prominent rock — “the” rock. 2 The legendary locality is still shown, and the importance of the incident, told equally in the Bible and the Koran, 3 is attested by the fact, that from this, rather than from any more general connection, the mountain derives its name of the “Mount of Moses.” It was a moment of his life second only to that when he received the first revelation of the Name of Jehovah. “ The Lord passed by and proclaimed, The Lord, the “ Lord God, merciful and gracious, long-suffering and “ abundant in goodness and truth, keeping mercy for 1 Manetho in Josephus, C. Ap. i. 26. 3 vii. 139 See Sinai and Palestine , 2 Exod. xxxiii. 18, 20, 21 ; xxxiv. 30. Lect. VII. PROPHETIC MISSION OF MOSES. 171 “ thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and “sin, and that will by no means clear the guilty.” The union of the qualities, so often disjoined in man, so little thought of in the gods of old, “justice and “mercy,” “truth and love,” became henceforward the formula, many times repeated — the substance of the Creed of the Jewish Church. And this union, which was disclosed as the highest revelation to Moses, was exactly what received its fullest exemplification in the Revelation for which it was a preparation : when in the most literal sense of the words, “ grace and truth ” — the tenderness of grace, the sternness and justice of truth — “ came by Jesus Christ.” How marked an epoch is thus intended appears from the mode of the Divine manifestations, which Prophetic . mission of are described as commencing at this juncture, Moses, and perpetuated with more or less continuity through the rest of his career. Immediately after the catas¬ trophe of the worship of the calf, and, apparently in consequence of it, Moses removed the chief tent — his own tent, according to the Septuagint 1 — outside the camp, and invested it with a sacred character under the name of “ the Tent or Tabernacle of the Con¬ gregation.” This tent became henceforth the chief scene of his communications with God. He left the camp, and it is described how, as in the expectation of some great event, all the people rose up and stood every man at his tent-door, and looked — gazing after Moses until he disappeared within the Tabernacle. As he disappeared, the entrance was closed behind him by the cloudy pillar, at the sight of which the people prostrated themselves. 2 The communications within the Tabernacle were still more intimate than Exod. xxxiii. 7, Ewald, Alterthiimer, p. 329. 2 Exod. xxxiii. 10. 1 172 SINAI AND THE LAW. Lect. YII. those on the mountain. “ Jehovah spake unto Moses u face to face, as a man speaketh unto his friend” 1 He was apparently accompanied on these mysterious visits by his attendant Hoshea (or Joshua), who re¬ mained in the Tabernacle after his master had left it. 2 It was during these Prophetic visions that a pecu¬ liarity is mentioned which apparently had not been seen before. It was on his final descent from Mount Sinai, after his second long seclusion, that a splendor shone on his face, as if from the glory of the Divine Presence; 3 which gradually faded away, till, conceal¬ ing its extinction by a veil, he returned to the Divine Presence, once more to rekindle it there. It is from this incident, that, by no very remote analogy, the Apostle draws the contrast between the fearlessness, the openness, of the New Dispensation, and the con¬ cealment and doubtfulness of the Old. “fe have “ no fear, as Moses had, that our glory will pass u away.” It is only by thus looking forwards to the end, that we see the full importance of the Prophetic Mission of Moses. But it is only by looking back to the 1 Exod. xxxiii. 11. 2 Ibid. 3 It is from the Vulgate trans¬ lation of Jceren — “ cornutam habens faciem,” that the Western Church has adopted the conventional representa¬ tion of the horns of Moses. In the English and most Protestant transla¬ tions, Moses is said to wear a veil in order to hide the splendor. In order to produce this sense, the Au¬ thorized Version reads, Exod. xxxiv. 83, “ And [till] Moses had done speak¬ ing with them; ” and other versions, “ he had put on the veil.” But in the Vulgate and Septuagint, he is said to put on the veil, not during, but after, the conversation with the people,— in order to hide, not the splendor, but the vanishing away of the splendor, and to have worn it till the moment of his return to the Divine Presence, in order to rekindle the light there. With this reading agrees the obvious meaning of the Hebrew words, and it is this rendering of the sense, which is followed by St. Paul in 2 Cor. iii. 13, 14. Lect. VII. SILENCE ON THE FUTURE LIFE. ITS beginning, that we understand its peculiar signifi¬ cance. That the consciousness of a present Ruler, in the closest moral relation with man, as above described, was a part of the Mosaic Revelation, properly so called, — that it had its origin in the solitudes of Sinai, and not in any later growth of the people of Israel, — seem proved by the place which it holds as the basis of their most striking peculiarities. Two may be selected as illustrations of this position. First, the Jewish religion is characterized in an eminent degree by the dimness of its concep- Absence 0 f tion of a future life. From time to time there future 11 are glimpses of the hope of immortality. But llfe * for the most part, it is in the present life that the faith of the Israelite finds its full accomplishment. “ The grave cannot praise thee ; death cannot cele- “ brate thee, . . . the living, the living, he shall praise “ thee, as I do this day.” 1 It is needless to repeat here the elaborate contrast drawn out by Bishop Warburton in this respect be¬ tween the Jewish Scriptures and the religions of Paganism. Nor need we adopt the paradoxical expe¬ dient by which, from this apparent defect, he infers the Divine Legation of Moses. But the fact becomes of real religious importance, if we trace the ground on which this silence respecting the Future state was based. Not from want of religion, but (if one might use the expression) from excess of religion, was this void left in the Jewish mind. The Future Life was not denied or contradicted, — but it was overlooked, set aside, overshadowed, by the consciousness of the living, actual presence of God Himself. That truth, 1 Isaiah xxxviii. 18, 19; Ps. lxxxviii. 12. 174 SINAI AND THE LAW. Lect. VII at least in the limited conceptions of the youthful nation, was too vast to admit of any rival truth, however precious. When David or Hezekiah, as in the passages just quoted, shrank from the gloomy vacancy of the grave, it was because they feared lest, when death closed their eyes on the present world, they should lose their hold 1 on that Divine Friend, with whose being and communion the present world had in their minds been so closely interwoven. Such a sense of the overwhelming greatness and nearness of God, the root of feelings so peculiar as those which I have described, must have lain too deep in the national belief to have had its beginning in any later time than the epoch of Moses. It is the primary stratification of the Religion. We should invert the whole order of the nation, if we placed it amongst the secondary formations of subsequent ages. Secondly, it is to this period that we must refer in The Theoc- its full extent, in its most literal meaning, rac y- what is often called the Theocracy of the Jewish people. The word is derived from Josephus’s account of this time. He, as it would seem, invented the phrase to express an idea for which ordinary Greek could furnish no adequate term. “Our law¬ giver,” he says, 2 “had no regard to monarchies, oli¬ garchies, democracies, or any of those forms; but he ordained our government to be what by a forced ex¬ pression may be called ‘a Theocracy? ” It is a term which has been often employed since ; usually in the sense of a sacerdotal rule, which is almost exactly the reverse of that in which it was used by its first in¬ ventor. The “Theocracy” of Moses was not a gov¬ ernment by priests, as opposed to kings; it was a 1 Ewald, Geschichte, ii. 121. 2 C. Apion, ii. 17. Lect. VII. THE THEOCRACY. 175 government by God Himself, as opposed to the gov¬ ernment by priests or kings. It was, indeed, Religious • t • i , ip, -l • equality of m its highest sense, as appeared aiterwards m the nation, the time of David, compatible both with regal and sacerdotal rule; but, in the first instance, it excluded all rule, except the simplest forms which the freedom of desert life could furnish. The assembly of all the tribes in the armed congregation, the chieftains or elders of the various tribes as established by Jethro, were the constituent elements of the primitive He¬ brew commonwealth, in its ordinary social relations. But in its highest aspect, it was distinguished from the other nations of antiquity by its comparative ab¬ sence of caste, by its equality of religious relations. An hereditary priesthood, it is true, was established, after the manner of Egypt, in the tribe of Levi, in the family of Aaron. But it was a subse- Subordina- quent 3 appendage to the fundamental pre- priesthood. 1 Some eminent divines have sup¬ posed that the Levitical ritual was an after-growth of the Mosaic system, necessitated or suggested by the in¬ capacity of the Israelites to retain the higher and simpler doctrine of the Divine Unity, — as proved by their return to the worship of the Helio- politan calf under the sanction of the brother of Moses himself. There is no direct statement of this connection in the sacred narrative: but there are indirect indications of it, sufficient to give some color to such an explanation. The event itself, as we have seen, is described as a crisis in the life of Moses, almost equal to that in which he re¬ ceived his first call. In an agony of vexation and disappointment he de¬ stroyed the monument of his first rev¬ elation (Ex. xxxiv. 19). He threw up his sacred mission ( ib . 32). He craved and he received a new and special revelation of the attributes of God to console him (ib. xxxiii. 18). A fresh start was made in his career (ib. xxxiv. 29). His relation with his coun¬ trymen henceforth became more awful and mysterious (ib. 32-35). In point of fact, the greater part of the details of the Levitical system were subse¬ quent to this catastrophe. The insti¬ tution of the Levitical tribe grew di¬ rectly out of it (ib. xxxii. 28). And the inferiority of this part of the sys¬ tem to the rest is expressly stated in the Prophets, and expressly connected with the idolatrous tendencies of the nation — “ Wherefore I gave them “ statutes that were not good, and “ judgments whereby they should not “ live ” (Ezek. xx. 25). 176 SINAI AND THE LAW. lect. vn. cepts, to the first declaration of the religion: in its hereditary functions, in its sacred dress, in its minute regulations, rather a part of the mechanism of the religion, than its animating spirit. The Levitical caste never corresponded to what we should call “ the clergy.” The fact that the Levites were collected in single cities is of itself a fatal objection to so regard¬ ing them . 1 They never claimed or were intended to govern the nation. They hardly claimed even to teach. Levi was not the ruling tribe, even though the two great leaders belonged to it; its consecration dated from no essential ordinance of the Law, but from the sudden emergency which arose out of the apostasy at the time of the molten calf. Aaron, though the head of that tribe, and the founder of the sacerdotal family, was not the ruling spirit of the people. He was but the weaker erring helpmate of Moses, who was the Guide, the Prophet, but not the Priest. \ We shall see how, like the equality of the primi¬ tive Christian Church, this first development of Israel¬ ite independence gradually passed into other forms, — to what disorders it gave rise when every man did what was right in his own eyes, and there was no king in Israel; how, as in the case of the Christian Church of later times, all the complicated relations of state and of hierarchy afterwards sprang up within the framework of a society at its beginning so simple. But the twin truths, which seem incorporated with the very localities of Sinai, — the Unseen Ruler in the thick clouds on the top of the awful Mountain, and the sacredness of the whole congregation as it lay spread over the level Plain beneath, — were never lost 1 Michaelis, Laws of Moses , art. 52. Lect. VII. THE THEOCRACY. 177 to the Jewish Church, and have been the constant springs of religious freedom and responsibility to the Christian Church. Even at the very outset of the Revelation was announced the great principle — the Gospel, as it has been well called , 1 of the Mosaic dis¬ pensation— so new to the nation of slaves, who had hitherto seen truth only through the long vista of mystical emblems and sacred incorporations. “Thus “ shalt thou say to the house of Jacob, and tell the “ children of Israel; Ye have seen what I did. to the “ Egyptians, and how I bare you on eagles’ wings, “ and brought you unto Myself. Now therefore, if “ ye will obey My voice indeed, and keep My cove- “ nant, then shall ye be a peculiar treasure unto Me “ above all people; for all the earth is Mine. And ye “ shall be unto me a kingdom of priests, and a holy “nation .” 2 “Ye shall be holy, for I am holy .” 3 Inspiration, communion with God, in the case of the Pagan religions, was for the most part con- Universal _ fined to sacred families or local oracles; in poetic the case of the Mussulman religion, was con- ins P iration - fined to its first founder and his sacred volume. But in the case of Israel it extended to the whole nation. The history of Israel, from Moses downwards, is not the history of an inspired book or an inspired order, but of an inspired people. When Joshua, in his youthful zeal, entreated Moses to forbid the prophe¬ sying of Eldad and Medad, because they remained in the camp, Moses answered: “ Enviest thou for my “ sake ? Would that all the Lord’s people were proph- “ ets, and that the Lord would put His Spirit upon “them !” 4 In different forms and in different degrees 1 Ewald, Geschichte , ii. 126. 3 Lev. xix. 2. 2 Ex. xix. 3-6. 4 Num. xi. 26—30. 23 178 SINAI AND THE LAW. Lect. YU that noble wish was fulfilled. The acts of the hero, the songs of the poet, the skill of the artificer,—• Samson’s strength, the music of David, the architect¬ ure of Bezaleel and Solomon, are all ascribed to the inspiration of the Divine Spirit. It was not a holy tribe, but holy men of every tribe that spake as they were moved, carried to and fro, out of themselves, by the Spirit of God. The Prophets, of whom this might be said in the strictest sense, were confined to no family or caste, station or sex. They rose, indeed, above their countrymen, their words were to their countrymen, in a peculiar sense, the words of God. But they were to be found everywhere. Like the springs of their own land, there was no hill or valley where the prophetic gift might not be expected to break forth. Miriam and Deborah, no less than Moses and Barak; in Judah and in Ephraim, no less than in Levi; in Tekoah and Tishbe, and, as the climax of all, in Nazareth, no less than in Shiloh or Jerusalem, God’s present counsel might be looked for. By this constant attitude of expectation, if one may so call it, the ears of the whole nation were kept open for the intimations of the Divine Ruler under whom they lived. None knew beforehand who would be called. As Strabo well says, in his description of the Mosaic dispensation which I have before quoted, “all might “ expect to receive the gift of good dreams ” for themselves or their people, “ all who lived temper¬ ately and justly, — those always and those only.” In the dead of night, as to Samuel; in the plough¬ ing of the field, as to Elisha; in the gathering of the sycamore figs, as to Amos; the call might come. “ Speak, Lord, for thy servant heareth,” was to be the ready and constant answer. And thus, even in lect. vn. THE THEOCRACY 179 its first establishment, the Theocracy, in its true sense, contained the warrant for its complete develop¬ ment. Moses was but the beginning; he was not, he could not be the end. The light on his countenance faded away, and had to be again and again rekindled in the presence of the Unseen. But his appearance, his character, his teaching, accustomed, familiarized the nation to this mode of revelation; and it would be at their peril, and against the whole spirit of the education received from him, if they refused to re¬ ceive its later manifestations, from whatever quar¬ ter. " The Lord thy God will raise up unto thee a “ Prophet , from the midst of thee, of thy brethren , like “unto me. Unto him shall ye hearken” The same event, it has been truly remarked, never repeats it- self in history. Yet a like event in one age is al¬ ways a preparation for a like event in another, es¬ pecially when the first event is one which involves the principle of the second. Moses, — the expounder of the Theocracy, the founder of the Hebrew Proph¬ ets, the interpreter between God on Mount Sinai and Israel in the plain below, was the necessary fore¬ runner, because the imperfect likeness, of the Last Prophet of the last generation of the Jewish theoc¬ racy. In the fullest sense might it be said to that generation: " There is one that accuseth you , even Moses , “in whom ye trust; for had ye believed Moses , ye ivoidd “have believed Me; bid if ye believe not his writings , how “ will ye believe My words ? ” 1 III. There was another point in the Kevelation of Sinai not less permanent, and equally charac- The Law. teristic. We speak of it as a revelation of "Religion.” But this was not the name by which it was known 1 John v. 45-47. I 180 SINAI AND THE LAW. Lect. VII, in ancient times. The Israelite spoke not -of the u Religion ” but of the “ Law ” of Moses. Moses was a Lawgiver 1 even more than he was a Prophet. In this aspect the Revelation presented itself, and from this were derived some of its most important features. At first sight it might appear as if “ the Law ” was not the form of truth for which the wild desert and the return to the wandering Arab life would have predisposed them; and as regards the minuteness of many of the enactments, Egypt, as I have before ob¬ served, and not Sinai, must be considered the fitting school of preparation. But those who have studied the Bedouin tribes know that there is no contradic¬ tion between their wild habits and an elaborate though purely traditional system of social and legal observances. Such a system has been carefully col¬ lected and expounded by the traveller Burckhardt, who thus closes the first portion of his remarkable work: “The present state of the great Bedouin com- “ monwealth of Arabia . . offers the rare example of “ a nation which, notwithstanding its perpetual state “ of warfare, without and within, has preserved, for a u long succession of ages, its primitive laws in all their “ vigor. . . . But,” he adds, “ of the origin of these “ laws nothing is known. . . . The ancient code of “ one Bedouin tribe only has reached posterity. . . . “ The Pentateuch was exclusively given to the Beni- “ Israel .” 2 It is this code of the Beni-Israel, — the “ sons of Israel,” (the name itself is an enduring mark of their first Patriarchal state,) — this one extant code of an ancient Bedouin tribe, which, bearing in mind this 1 He is twice so called in the Pen- 2 Notes on the Bedouins , i. 381. tateuch, Num. xxi. 18; Deut. xxxiii. 21 . Lect. VII. THE LAW IN THE DESERT 181 peculiarity of its first appearance, we have now to examine. Here, as elsewhere, it is only by remem¬ bering what there was immediate, historical, and local, that we shall be able fully to appreciate what there is of eternal and universal. It has been a question often debated amongst scholars, how far the code of the Pentateuch was a collection of earlier, later, or contemporaneous cus¬ toms, under one general system. It will here suffice to name those portions of the Law which, by direct connection with the life of the Desert, can be traced back to the Sinai tic period. 1. There is no express enactment of any form of government in the Mosaic Law. But the Constitution ° of the elders or chiefs of the tribes, who appear as Desert, the background of the primitive constitution, are dis¬ tinctly Arabian, and in part existed before the Exo¬ dus, 1 in part, at least, may be ascribed to Jethro. The word is almost identical with the “ Sheik” 2 of modern times, and is the same which designates the chiefs of the Bedouin tribes of Midian. Their original names are preserved. 3 Together they formed a coun¬ cil of seventy, of which, as it would seem, Hur was the head. 4 They were chosen by the people, and dedicated by Moses. The priests were not part of them. 5 Through all the changes of the office, the name still continued. From time to time it appears in the settled period of the monarchy. 6 On the dis¬ solution of the kingdom it reasserts something of its original importance. 7 Out of the elders or ■ Sheiks of 1 Ex. i v> 29. 5 2 Chron. xxxi. 2. - Zakin, Num. xxii. 4 ; see Gese- *> For instance, 1 Ks. viii. 1; 2 Ks. nius, sub voce. xxiii. 1. 3 Num. ii. 3-29; x. 14-27. 7 j er . xx i x . 2 ; Ezek. viii. 11, 12; 4 Num. xi.; Ex. xxiv. 9, 14. 1 Mac. xii. 1, 35. 182 SINAI AND THE LAW. Lect. VII the desert thus grew the elders of the synagogues; and out of the elders of the synagogues, — with no change of name except that which took place in passing from Hebrew to Greek and from Greek to the languages of modern Europe, — the “ Presbyters/' “Prestres,” and “ Priests” of Christendom. That word and that office, so limited in its present meaning, is the direct descendant of the rudest and most primi¬ tive forms of the Jewish nation. The Christian Pres- \ byter represents, not the high priest Aaron, but the Bedouin Jethro, — not the sacerdotal, but the primi¬ tive element of the ancient Church. 2. The Encampment and its movements were pe- Encamp- culiar to the desert. Never again, after the ment. first settlement in Canaan, could the sight have been conceived of the detailed arrangements which called forth the passionate burst of Balaam’s admiration: “ How goodly are thy tents, 0 Jacob, “ and thy tabernacles, 0 Israel! ” Many usages men¬ tioned in connection with it must have perished at once on their entrance into settled life. But relics of such a state are long to be traced both in their language and in their monuments. The very words “ camp ” and “ tents ” remained long after they had ceased to be literally applicable. “ The tents of the “ Lord ” were in the precincts of the Temple. The cry of sedition, evidently handed down from ancient times, was, “To your tents, 0 Israel.” “Without the “ camp ” 1 was the expression applied even to the very latest events of Jerusalem. In like manner, the na¬ tional war-cries, always the oldest of national com¬ positions, go back to this early state. The shout, “ Rise up, 0 Lord, and let Thine enemies be scattered; 1 Heb. xiii. 13. Lect. VII. RELICS OF THE WANDERINGS. 183 “ let them also that hate thee flee before Thee,” was incorporated into the Psalms of the monarchy; but its first force came from the time when, morning by morning, it was repeated as the ark was slowly and solemnly raised on the shoulders of the Levites, and went forth against the enemies of God in the desert. 1 “ Arise, 0 Lord, into Thy resting place ! Thou and the “ ark of Thy strength.” “ Give ear, 0 Shepherd of “ Israel, Thou that leadest Joseph like a flock; Thou “ that dwellest between the cherubim, shine forth! “Before Ephraim, Benjamin and Manasseh, stir up “ Thy strength and come and help us .” 2 Grand and touching as is this address, taken in its application to the latest decline of the Jewish kingdom, it is still more so, when we see in it the reflected image of the order of the ancient march, when the ark of God went forth, the pillar of fire shining high above it, surrounded by the armed Levites, its rear guarded by the warrior tribes of Ephraim, Benjamin, and Ma¬ nasseh, the brother and the sons of Joseph, doubtless intrusted with the embalmed remains of their mighty ancestor. And if from these fragments of sacred speech we look at the actual relics of antiquity (in the literal sense of relics), their desert lineage is still more indis¬ putable. Down to the latest times of the monarchy was pre¬ served, in the innermost sanctuary of the The Ark. Temple, the ancient ark or coffer of wood, purporting to be the same which had been made at Mount Sinai and carried through all their wanderings. Its form, as we have seen, possibly its religious significance, was derived from Egypt. But its material was such 1 Num. x. 35, 36 ; Ps. lxviii. 1. 2 p s . Ixxx. 1 ; Ps. cxxxii. 8. 184 SINAI AND THE LAW. Lect. YH. as can hardly be explained, except by the account given of its first appearance. It was not of oak, the usual wood of Palestine, nor of cedar, 1 the usual wood employed in Palestine for sacred purposes, but of shittim or acacia, a tree of rare growth in Syria, but the most frequent, not even excepting the palm, in the Peninsula of Sinai. What lay within the Ark, also of this period, shall be mentioned hereafter. Two lesser objects of in¬ terest were laid up, we know not for how long a time, in front of it, both relics of Sinai. One was the The pot of pot of manna. Many a perplexed controversy 1 on the nature of the food which sustained the Israelites in the desert would have been spared, could we have but caught one glance at this its authentic perpetuation. It has been conjectured by Reland, (and, in a matter of such obscurity, even the conjecture of so great a scholar may be worth notice,) that the existence of this vessel, with the handles or ears by which it was supported, may have lent a pretext to the strange fable already quoted from Tacitus, that the Jewish sanctuary contained the figure of an ass’s head, in commemoration of the events in the wilderness. Another object which lay The staff beside the vessel of manna was the staff or of Aaron. ro q 0 p a i mon d wood, — the sceptre of the tribe of Levi, — sometimes borne by Moses, 2 sometimes by Aaron, the emblem of the ancient shepherd life, when sceptre and crook were one and the same. The like 1 Rabbinical writers, in their igno- the desert, we must, as was observed ranee, interpret sliittim as “ cedar.” in Lecture VI., exchange the histor- If we translate shittim as “ cedar,” ical ground of the narrative for two and tachash (vide infra ) as “ badg- imaginary miracles, er,” neither of which are found in 2 See Num. xvii. 6; xx. 8-10. Lect. VII. RELICS OF THE WANDERINGS. 185 staff is still carried by the present chiefs of the Sina itic Peninsula. But the most remarkable vestige of the nomadic state of the nation was the Tabernacle or The Taber _ Tent, which was the shelter of the Ark long nacle ‘ after the entrance into Canaan, and which was finally laid aside and treasured up in the chambers of the Temple, when the erection of that stately building rendered its further use superfluous. The Temple it¬ self was in some important respects but a permanent and enlarged copy of the Tabernacle. The name of the Sacred Tent was thus used for the Temple long after it had itself been discontinued. 1 In these its later imitations and reminiscences, much more whilst it stood as the one Sanctuary of the nation, it was a constant memorial of the wandering state, in which they received their earliest forms of architecture and of worship. No Gothic or Byzantine style can reveal to us more clearly the dates of the churches and cathedrals of modern Europe, than those rough boards of acacia wood, those coarse tent-cloths of goat’s-hair and ram-skin, dyed red after the Arabian fashion, in¬ dicated the epoch of the primitive Jewish sanctuary. Not a Druidical cromlech, like the Patriarchal Bethel, not a fixed house like the palatial structures of Pha¬ raoh or of Solomon, but a tent, distinguished only by its larger dimensions and more costly materials from the rest of the Israelite encampment, was “ the Taber- “ nacle of the Lord which Moses made in the wilder- “ ness.” On this simple dwelling, as of the Unseen Chief and Ruler of the host, was lavished all the art and treasure that the region could supply; skins of 1 Ezek. xli. 1 ; Ps. lxxvi. 2; lxxxiv. 1 ; “ a resemblance of the Holy Tab¬ ernacle.” Wisdom ix. 8. 24 186 SINAI AND THE LAW. Lect. VII. seals or fishes 1 from the adjoining gulfs of the Red Sea, linen coverings from the Egyptian spoils, to clothe the tent as though it were itself a living object,— almost as, at the present day, the sanctuary of Mecca is year by year clothed and reclothed with sumptuous velvets, the gifts of Mussulman devotion. 2 The names of the architects of the Temple of Solomon have perished, but the names of the builders of the Taber¬ nacle,—the first founders of Jewish architecture, the rude beginners of Israelite, and through them of all religious, Art, are emphatically recorded, — Bezaleel, the grandson of the great but mysterious Hur, and his companion Aholiab of the tribe of Dan. “ See, the 66 Lord hath called by name Bezaleel the son of Uri, “ the son of Hur, of the tribe of Judah: and He hath K filled him with the Spirit of God, in wisdom, in “ understanding, and in knowledge, and in all manner “ of workmanship ; and to devise curious works, to ec work in gold, and in silver, and in brass, and in the “ cutting of stones to set them, and in carving of “ wood, to make any manner of cunning work. And “ He hath put in his heart that he may teach, both “ he and Aholiab, the son of Ahisamach, of the tribe “ of Dan.” 3 3. Amidst the various elements of worship which Sacrifice, were to be carried on in and around the tabernacle, the most conspicuous was, so far as we can judge, peculiarly fitted to the mind of an Ara¬ bian tribe. We may indulge in philosophical or theo¬ logical speculations concerning the institution of Sacri- 1 Such is the probable meaning of 2 Burton’s Pilgrimage , iii. 295. the word translated “ badger.” See 3 Ex. xxxv. 30-34. Gesenius under Tachash. Also Rob¬ inson, Bib. Researches , i. 116. Lect. VII. RELICS OF THE WANDERINGS. 187 fice; but, historically (and this is the only point of view in which we are now to consider it), we cannot overlook its adaptation to the peculiar period of the Israelitish existence, in which we find it first de¬ scribed at length. Some of the forms are identical with those of Egypt and of India. But it is remark able that the institution (taken in its most general aspect), after having perished everywhere else among the worshippers of One God, still lingers among that portion of the Semitic nations which more than any other represent the condition of Israel at Sinai. Ex¬ tinct almost entirely in the Jewish race itself, it is still an important part of the worship of the Bedouin Arabs. In the desert of Sinai itself, sacrifice is still almost the only form which Bedouin religion takes, at the chief sanctuary of the peninsula, the tomb of Sheik Saleh, 1 and on the summit of Serbal. 2 When Burckhardt wished to penetrate into the then inac¬ cessible fastness of Petra, the pretext which afforded him the greatest security was that of professing a desire to sacrifice a goat at the tomb of Aaron. In the pilgrimage to Mecca, “ the sacrifices in the valley u of Muna are so numerous and so intricate, that it “ is believed that none but the Prophet knew them.” 3 Whatever difficulty we have in analyzing the feelings of an ancient Israelite in shedding the blood of a bull or a goat, or in wringing the neck of a pigeon be¬ fore the altar, exists equally in the case of the like rites of a modern Mussulman. Simple as we may suppose the religion of that earliest stage of the 1 Sinai and Palestine , 57. thrown over the rocks. Comp, the 2 Drew’s Scripture Lands , 61. A scapegoat. (Lev. xvi. 22.) sheep is sacrificed on the summit, and 2 Burton’s Pilgrimage , iii. 226, 303- 313. 188 SINAI AND THE LAW. Lect. YH national life of the Israelites to have been, Sacrifice is, by what we know of the Arabian religion, one of the most necessary forms which it could have as¬ sumed. And as the sacrificial system was one which would The tribe be specially understood and felt at this early ofLevl ‘ period, so also historically did the Levitical priesthood spring from the then existing framework of events. The “tribe” of Levi of itself indicates the nomad division. It has even down to this day pre¬ served the recollection of that division, when all the other like distinctions of the Jewish nation have perished. The tribe of Levi , the family of Aaron , are almost the only permanent signs of the personal great¬ ness of Moses and his brother. The supremacy of Israel was in later times shifted from one tribe to another, Ephraim, Benjamin, Judah. But this is the only period in which the leading spirits of the nation came from the tribe of Levi; and in which, therefore, its moral preeminence gave a ground for its ceremonial preeminence also. Such a ground, implied doubtless in the case of Aaron, is expressly stated in the case of the tribe at large, when we are told that the origin of their consecration was to be found in the fierce zeal with which they rallied round Moses at the time of the Golden Calf, and 66 slew every man his “ brother, and every man his companion, and every “ man his neighbour.” 1 The triple benediction, the especial function of the sacerdotal office, preserved in the family till this day, and commemorated even in the triple division of the fingers, and carved on the gravestones of those who are supposed to be Aaron’s descendants, bears on its front the marks of the 1 Ex. xxxii. 27. Compare Deut. xxxiii. 9. Lect. VII. RELICS OF THE WANDERINGS. 189 primitive age, in which alone it could have orig¬ inated. 1 4. The distinction between various kinds of food is one which furnished the earliest questions of Thedis- . . , . . n tinctions of casuistry m the transition from the J ewish to food, the Christian Church, and which lingers in the rem¬ nants of the Jewish race to this day. It may be difficult to account entirely for the grounds of the distinction, but they may be traced with the greatest probability to the peculiarities of the condition of Is¬ rael at the time of the giving of the Law. The ani¬ mals of which they might freely eat were those which belonged especially to their pastoral state,— the ox, the sheep, and the goat, to which were added the various classes of chamois and gazelle. As we read the detailed permission to eat every class of what may be called the game of the wilderness,— “ the wild goat, and the roe, and the red-deer, and “the ibex, and the antelope, 2 and the chamois,” — a new aspect is suddenly presented to us of a large part of the life of the Israelites in the desert. It reveals them to us as a nation of hunters; it shows them to us, clambering over the smooth rocks, scal¬ ing the rugged pinnacles of Sinai, as the Arab cha¬ mois hunters of the present day, with bows and ar¬ rows instead of' guns. Such pursuits they could only in a limited degree have followed in their own coun¬ try. The permission, the perplexity implied in the permission, could only have arisen in a place where the animals in question abounded. High up on the cliffs of Sinai the traveller still sees the herds of ga- 1 Num. vi. 24. Compare the grave- 2 Its name, Dislion , is that of the stones in the Jewish cemetery at son of Seir (Gen. xxxvi. 21, 30). Prague. 190 SINAI AND THE LAW. Lect. VII. zelles standing out against the sky; and no image was more constantly before the pilgrims, of whatever age they may he, who wrote the mysterious inscrip¬ tions in the Wady Mukatteb, and on the rock of Herimat Haggag, than the long-horned ibex. In every form and shape of exaggeration it is there to be seen. What makes the enumeration more exclu¬ sively 1 Arabian in its character is the omission of the “reem,” 2 or buffalo, so frequently mentioned in connection with the wild pastures east and north of Palestine. In like manner the strict prohibitions may almost all be traced either to the intention of draw¬ ing some slight distinction between Israel and the mere wanderers of the desert, as in the case of the camel and jerboa, or to the strong recoil from Egypt, as in the case of the leprous swine and the serpent, in all its forms and shapes, so closely connected in Egypt with the mystical or obscene ceremonial from which they were now set free. We are accustomed, in the French and Saxon names used in our language for the various kinds of food, to trace the relative social position of the Normans and Saxons after the Conquest. A similar inference as to the original con¬ dition of the Israelites, may, in like manner, be de¬ duced from the permission or prohibition of clean and unclean food, which must have long outlived the practical occasion whence they derived their first meaning and intention. 5. A whole class of law appears to be explained, 1 The spots on the cliffs of the 2 Unless the word teoh, iN.Fl, oc- Dead Sea, east and west, where the eurring only in Deut. xiv. 5, and ibex is to be found, are enumerated in translated “ wild ox,” is so to be Ritter, ii. 534, 562, 580, 584, 585, taken. * 587, 595, 596, 660, 673, 1096. Lect. VII. RELICS OF THE WANDERINGS. 191 on the one hand, by the peculiar state against which they are aimed; on the other hand, by their Blood high elevation above that state, indicating the revenge> higher than any merely national source from whence they came. Of all the virtues of civilization, the one which most incontestably follows in its train, and is most rarely anticipated in earlier ages, is humanity. And rare as this is everywhere in barbarous nations, it is rarest in the East. In the East and West the value of animal and of human life is exactly re¬ versed. An Arab, who will be shocked at the notion of shooting his horse, will have no scruple in killing a man. And what was the fierceness of the ancient Semitic race, especially, is apparent both from the later Jewish history, and from that of the kindred nations of Phoenicia and Carthage. Against this the laws of Moses, in war, in slavery, and in the social relations of life, stand out, as has been often observed, in marvellous contrast. But there was one form of ferocity, then as now, peculiar to the Bedouin tribes, that of revenge for blood. To the fourth gen¬ eration (it is the exact limit laid down both in the Bedouin custom and in the Mosaic law), the lineal descendant of a murdered man is to this day charged with the duty of avenging his blood. 1 This institu¬ tion, so deeply seated in the Arab race as to have defied the course of centuries, and the efforts of three religions, was assumed and tolerated, like slavery, polygamy, or any of the other ancient Asiatic usages, which more or less lasted through the Jewish times. But it was restrained by the establishment of cities of the cities of refuge. If, for the hardness of Refuge ’ 1 The God (“redeemer”) of the the Arab. Michaelis, Laws of Moses, Hebrew is the Tair (“ survivor ”) of art. 131. 192 SINAI AND THE LAW. Lect. VII. the Bedouin heart, Moses left the Avenger of Blood as he found him; yet, for the tenderness of heart in¬ fused by a “ more excellent way,” he reared those barriers against him. The common law of the desert found itself kept in check by the statute law of Pal¬ estine, and the six cities became (as far as we know from history) rather monuments of what had been, and of what might have been, than remedies of what was. 6. These are the most obvious instances of a direct The Law. connection of any part of the Mosaic Law with the code of the desert. Of the rest of the Law, there is, for the most part, nothing which specially connects itself with the desert life, though its general savor of antiquity throws it back to the earliest period of which criticism will admit. The growth of general laws or customs out of particular occasions — as for example the rule for the marriage of heiresses within their own tribe arising out of the case of the daugh¬ ters of Zelophehad, 1 and the dispensation for accidental defilement from the incident of the dead body in the camp 2 — is precisely the primitive stage of ancient law which we recognize in the “ Themis ” or “ The- mistes” of the Homeric age. 3 “He cast a tree into “ the waters, and the waters were made sweet: there “ he made for them a statute and an ordinance.” This indication of the origin of the first Mosaic law at the well of Marah, though left unexplained, is probably a sample of the rise of many others. Again, the mode in which the religious, civil, moral, and ceremonial ordinances “are mingled up together, without any re- “ gard to differences in their essential character,” has been well observed 4 to be consistent only with that 1 Num. xxxvi. 8-11. 2 Num. ix. 6. 3 See Maine, Ancient Law , p. 4. 4 Ibid. 16. V Lect. VII. THE LAW. 193 early stage of thought, when law was not yet severed from morality, nor religion from law, nor ceremony from religion. It is, in fact, this primitive blending of heterogeneous elements which has given rise to the pe¬ culiar relations occupied by the Mosaic Law towards the Christian Church. “ No law,” says Michaelis, 1 “ of “ such high antiquity has, in one connected body, reached a our times, and it is, on this account alone, very re- “ markable .... and, so long as it remains unknown, “ the genealogy of our existing laws may be said to “ he incomplete.” Beyond this general descent of all modern laws from the code of the Jewish legislator, it is extremely difficult to point out any principle on which parts have been retained, and parts abolished. The Mosaic prohibition of usury continued in force throughout Christendom till the seventeenth century. The Mosaic sanction of slavery is still a strong sup¬ port of that institution in the Southern States of North America. Our own marriage laws are mainly based on the Levitical code; and the question of Henry’s divorce, which formed the occasion of the separation of the English from the Boman Church, turned on a minute point of Levitical casuistry. Even in its most general aspect, the relation of the Mosaic Law to the Gospel presents questions hardly yet answered by History or Theology. What was the Law of which the Psalmist spoke as that in the keep¬ ing of which he found light, and life, and peace, and comfort, and salvation? 2 or what the Law of which the Apostle spoke as though it were his personal enemy, the cause of death, and the strength of sin? 3 1 Laws of Moser, p. 2. Law, the Strength of Sin” ( Commen - 2 Ps. xix., cxix. tary on S. Paul's Epistles, 2d ed., ii. 3 Rom. vii. 7-11; 1 Cor. xv. 56. 493-502). See Professor Jowett’s Essay on “ The 25 194 SINAI AND THE LAW. Lect. YIL What was that Law of which “not one jot or tittle “ should pass away, till all was fulfilled ? ” or that, which with all its ordinances was “ blotted out,” “ taken out of the way,” “ abolished ” ? 1 The solution of these problems must be sought elsewhere. It is enough here to indicate them. They are proofs of the remote antiquity of the code and the institution, which could thus be personified, idealized, and applied in senses so different. They are proofs, also, of the freedom with which these various senses are used in the Sacred records both of the Jewish and Christian Churches. It was this most ancient and venerable of all the parts of the Old Dispensation, that fur¬ nished the antithesis, now become almost proverbial, between the “ letter that kills,” and “ the spirit that “ quickens.” There is one portion of the Law, however, which remarkably illustrates most of these questions, and which is evidently a monument of this earliest period of the history, as well as the kernel of the whole institution. We read that when the Ark was carried in the The Ten reign of Solomon to its last retreat within the ments. newly erected Temple, it was opened for the first time within the memory of man, to examine its sacred contents. It is impossible not to feel the in¬ terest of the moment, when the ancient lid of acacia wood was lifted up, and those who had heard of its hidden wonders saw its dark interior. “There was “ nothing in the ark save the tivo tables of stone , which “ Moses put there at Horeb, when the Lord made a “ covenant with the children of Israel, when they came “out of Egypt.” Nothing save these. We know not 1 Matt. v. 18; Col. ii. 14; Eph. ii. 15. Lect. VII. THE TEN COMMANDMENTS. 195 their form or size. But we know the hard, imper¬ ishable granite of which they must have been hewn; we know its red hue; the style of engraving must have been such as can be still discerned in the Des¬ ert Inscriptions. These venerable fragments of the rock of Sinai, seen then, were seen, as far as we know, for the last time. They must have perished, or at least disappeared, when the Ark itself perished or dis¬ appeared in the capture of Jerusalem by Nebuchad¬ nezzar. But their contents have survived the wreck, not only of the Ark and Temple, but of the whole system of worship, of which they were the basis. The Ten Commandments delivered on Mount Sinai have be¬ come embedded in the heart of the religion which has succeeded. Side by side with the Prayer of our Lord, and with the Creed of His Church, they appear inscribed on our churches, read from our altars, taught to our children, as the foundation of all morality. The form in which they were presented to Israel in the wilderness is but of slight importance. Their out- Yet five points may be observed, as indicat- peai’ance. ing their primitive, impenetrable simplicity. First, the number, Ten, as drawn from the most obvious form of calculation, becomes, as if in imitation of this sa¬ cred code, the form in which many of the lesser enactments are cast. As many as six groups of this kind may be traced 1 in the different parts of the Pen¬ tateuch. Secondly, the fact that they were on two blocks of stone, probably of nearly equal size, and the variations in the versions of Exodus and Deuteronomy, almost necessarily lead to the inference that the Com- 1 (1) Ex. xxi. 2-11. (2) Ex. xxii. (6) Levit. vii. 11-21. Ewald, ii. 157— 6-26. (3) Ex. xxiii. 1-9. (4) Ex. 159. He gives others, but they seem xxiii. 10-19. (5) Levit. vii. 1-10. too uncertain to deserve notice. 196 SINAI AND THE LAW. I Lect. VII. mandments alone must have been engraven without the reasons for their observance. Thirdly, the same general consideration, combined with the form in which the Commandments run, indicates that the original di¬ vision of the Tables differed from that of all modern churches. Five Commandments were in all probability on the first, and five on the second table; amongst those on the first would thus be included that winch now usually ranks at the head of the second, hut which then was placed amongst the general command¬ ments of reverence to superiors whether divine or human. 1 Fourthly, unlike our modern idea of the Commandments, but like the written rocks of the desert, the inscriptions run over both sides: a the ta- “ bles were written on both their sides; on the one “ side and the other were they written.” 2 This was probably to give the impression of their completeness. Fifthly, they are not properly “ the Ten Commandments ,” but “ the Ten Words” 8 — Decalogue. Hence the first of them is, in the Jewish division, not a command¬ ment at all. This was the form: what was the substance of the Ten Commandments ? . . . What has the human Their iden- race gained by its adoption of what Burckhardt of morality called u the code of the Beni-Israel ? ” It is, &0 d re- ligion. in one word, the declaration of the indivisible unity of morality with religion. It was the boast of Josephus, 4 that whereas other legislators had made re¬ ligion to be a part of virtue, Moses had made virtue to he a part of religion. Of this, amongst all other indications, the Ten Commandments are the most 1 As Pieias amongst the Romans. 2 Ex. xxxii. 15. Ewald, ii. 151. So Philo and Jose- 3 See margin of Exod. xxxiv. 28. phus, and Irenaeus ( Hcer . ii. 13). 4 C. Apion , ii. 17. Lect. VII. THE TEN COMMANDMENTS. 197 remarkable and enduring example Delivered with every solemnity of which place and time could admit, treasured up with every sanctity w T hich Religion could confer, within the holiest shrine of the holiest of the holy places, — more sacred than altar of sacrifice, or altar of incense, — they yet contain almost nothing of local or ceremonial injunction. However sacred the ritual with which they and the other moral laws were surrounded, yet we have the highest authority for dis¬ tinguishing between what was essential and non-essen¬ tial in the Mosaic institutions, and for believing that even the whole sacrificial system was as nothing com¬ pared with the Decalogue and its enforcements. “I “ spake not unto your fathers, nor commanded them, “ in the day that I brought them out of the land of “ Egypt, concerning burnt offerings or sacrifices. But “ this thing commanded I them, saying, Obey my voice, “ and I will be your God, and ye shall be my people.” 1 If there was in the Fourth commandment the injunc¬ tion to consecrate, by unbroken rest, the seventh day of every week, yet experience has shown how widely adapted the principle of this observance has been to all times and countries. Even those who most zeal¬ ously repudiate the obligation of the Mosaic Law, and who dwell most forcibly on the distinction between the Jewish Sabbath and the Christian Sunday, acknowl¬ edge that no other ancient ceremony has so main¬ tained its hold on the world, and that without its antecedent support the observance of Sunday would hardly have exercised the beneficial influence which none deny to it. The Patriarchal rites of Circumcision and of Sacrifice have vanished away, but the name of the Sabbath of the Decalogue, the Sabbath of Mount 1 Jer. vii. 21-23. 198 SINAI AND THE LAW. Lect. YH Sinai,— as if it partook of the universal spirit of the code in which it is enshrined, — is still, as though by a natural anomaly, revered by thousands of Gentile Christians. If this be so even in the one exception to the spiritual and moral character of the Decalogue, much more is it with the remaining nine of these fun¬ damental laws. “ Thou shalt have none other gods but “ One,” “ Thou shalt do no murder,” “ Thou shalt not “ commit adultery,” “ Thou shalt not steal,” are still as impressive and as applicable as when first heard and written. And if in the Second, and Fourth, and Fifth commandments some expressions retain a local and temporary character, yet these do but serve as proofs of the hoary antiquity from which they have come down to us. The words were “ written by the finger “ of God,” but the Tables were not less surely fragments hewn out of the rock of Horeb. Hard, stiff, abrupt as the cliffs from which they were taken, they remain as the firm, unyielding basis on which all true spiritual religion has been built up and sustained. Sinai is not Palestine,— the Law is not the Gospel; but the Ten Commandments, in letter and in spirit, remain to us as the relic of that time. They represent to us, both in fact and in idea, the granite foundation, the immova¬ ble mountain on which the world is built up ; without which all theories of religion are but as shifting and fleeting clouds; they give us the two homely fun¬ damental laws, which all subsequent Revelation has but confirmed and sanctified, — the Law of our duty towards God, and the Law of our duty towards our neighbor. Lect. VIII. KADESH AND PISGAH. 199 LECTURE VIII. KADESH AND PISGAH. The close of the history of the Wanderings bears on its face the marks of confusion and omission. Two stages alone of the journey are distinctly visible, from Sinai to Kadesh, and from Kadesh to Moab. I. I have elsewhere pointed out the profound ob¬ scurity in which the Mosaic narrative has Journey . from Sinai wrapt the first of these two periods. 1 Not to Kadesh. merely are the names of nearly all the encampments still lost in uncertainty, but the narrative itself draws the mind of the reader in different directions; and the variations, in some instances as it would seem, of the text itself, repel 2 detailed inquiry still more positively. To this outward confusion corresponds the inward and spiritual aspect of the history. It is the period of reaction, and contradiction, and failure. It is chosen by S. Paul 3 as the likeness of the corresponding fail¬ ure of the first efforts of the primitive Christian Church; — the one “type” of the Jewish History ex¬ pressly mentioned by the writers of the New Testa- 1 Sinai and Palestine, 92. “ types ” in the original. This is the 2 Comp. Deut. x. 6. 7, with Num. true meaning of the word; and it is xxxiii. 30-36. the only case in which it is applied in 3 1 Cor. x. 11. “ These things hap- the New Testament to the Jewish pened unto them for examples ” — History. 200 KADESH AND PISGAH. Lect VIII ment. It left hardly any permanent trace on the history of the people, and, therefore, according to the plan laid down in these Lectures, may be passed with the same rapidity with which it is passed by the Sacred Eecord itself. Some few institutions, or frag¬ ments, however, of institutions, come down to the Jewish, and even into the Christian Church, from that time ’ and some few salient points emerge full of eternal significance. The brazen plates which covered the ancient wooden The brazen altar, and which were perpetuated in “ the plates of 11 the altar. “ brazen altar ” of Solomon’s temple, were traced back to the relics of the censers of brass which had belonged to the chiefs of the great con¬ spiracy of the tribes of Levi and Reuben against the rule of the two prophet-brothers of the family of Conspiracy Aaron. Never again did Levi make the at- Reuben. tempt to gain the possession of the priest¬ hood ; nor Reuben to seize the reins of government. The two tribes afterwards became entirely parted asunder in their characters and fortunes: the one was incorporated into the innermost circle of the settled civilization of Palestine; the other hovered on the very outskirts of the Holy Land and chosen people, and dwindled away into a Bedouin tribe. But the story of Korah belongs to a time when they, with Simeon, still breathed the same fierce and uncontrol¬ lable spirit of their Arabian ancestry; when Levi was still fresh from the great crisis in Sinai, by which their tribe had been consecrated and divided from the rest; when the recollection of the birthright of Reuben still lingered in the minds of his descendants. In the desert they marched side by side; and their joint conspiracy naturally grew out of their joint Lect. VIII. JOURNEY TO KADESH. 201 neighborhood . 1 It was the last expiring effort of the old traditions of the Beni-Israel against the constitu¬ tion of the new order of things, which every gener¬ ation would more firmly establish. “ Thou leddest “Thy people like sheep by the hand of Moses and “ Aaron.” Another relic of that dark time was one which re¬ mained till the time of Hezekiah in the Jew- The Brazen ish Church, but which, partly in symbol Serpent ' and partly in pretensions to the reality, has prevailed even to our own day in the Christian Church. “The “serpent of brass that Moses had made” was long cherished as a sacred image in the sanctuaries of Judah and Jerusalem. Incense was offered to it, and a name conferred on it ; 2 and, even after its destruc¬ tion by Hezekiah, the recollection of it was still so endeared to the nation, that from it was drawn one of the most sacred similitudes of the New Testament; and even the Christian Church claimed for centuries to have preserved its very form intact in the church of S. Ambrose, at Milan. The snakes against which the brazen serpent was originally raised as a protec¬ tion, were peculiar to the eastern portion of the - Sinaitic desert. There, and nowhere else, and in no other moment of their history, could this symbol have originated. Amidst the general obscurity and doubts of this period of the wanderings, one spot emerges, if not into certainty, at least into unmistakable prominence. 1 See Blunt’s Undesigned Coinci- words “ one called it,” i. the first 1 The watercourse of Zered, “ the vi. 14) is spoken of as the southern abundant tree,” (Deut. ii. 13, 18) or frontier of Moab. of “ the willows ” (Isa. xv. 7 ; Amos 2 Deut. ii. 13. 3 Num. xxi. 11, 15. 208 PISGAH. lect. vm. visit, as Beer-elim} “ the well of the heroes.” Rab¬ binical tradition represented it as the last appearance of the spring or well of Miriam, that had followed them through their wanderings, and had bubbled up once more before it finally plunged into the Lake of Gennesareth. But the original account of it is more touching even than this picturesque legend, 2 — “ That is the well whereof the Lord said unto M> “ ses — “ Gather the people together, I will give them water.” The nation long preserved the song addressed, as if with a passionate invocation, to the water which lay hid in this well, by those who came to draw from it. “ Spring up, O well! sing ye unto it! The well which the princes digged, The nobles of the people digged it With the sceptre of the Lawgiver, With the ‘ staves of their tribes/ ” It was the expression of the thankful feeling that in that simple but precious gift of water all had borne their part from the least to the greatest: that it was no ordinary tool, no staff of divination, but the rod of their great leader Moses, the sceptres of the chiefs of thq tribes that had wrought this homely work, ami left the refreshing boon to posterity. There are many who hail this clear, undoubted burst of primitive 3 Hebrew poetry, out of the disjointed structure of the Sacred History, almost as gratefully as the event which it commemorates was hailed by the Israelites them¬ selves. 1 Isa. xv. 8; see Sinai and Pales- on “Beer” and “ Beer-elim,” in Diet, tine, Appendix, § 56. of Bible. 2 See Lecture VI., and Mr. Grove 3 Compare Herder ( Spirit of He¬ brew Poetry , vol. xxxiv. p. 225). lect. vm. BALAAM. 209 From their entrance into the territory of Moab the history presents itself under two distinct as- The last J 1 it days of pects. The first is that of the earliest stage Moses, of the conquest of Palestine. The second is that of the last days of Moses. The first of these will be most conveniently considered in detail in the next Lecture. But the general results of this conquest in¬ troduce a scene in the history which can only he con¬ sidered in this place, because it suddenly gives us, before we finally take farewell of the great Prophet of Israel, a glimpse of another Prophet, who for a mo¬ ment fills our whole view, and who, though he leaves no enduring mark on the history of the Jewish Church, has occupied so large a place in Christian theology as to rank amongst the most interesting characters of the Old Dispensation. A unity of place links together the Two Prophets, else so wide apart; and, as if with a consciousness of this, the shadow of the great mountain, where the two scenes which connect them were enacted, is thrown before at the very beginning of this portion of the narrative. “ They came from Nahali-el to Bamoth, c the “ high places/ and from Bamoth to the ‘ ravine ’ that a is in the field of Moab, to the top of ‘ Pisgah which “looketh towards Jeshimon, 1 the waste/” 1. It is one of the striking proofs of the Divine uni¬ versality of the Old Testament, that the veil Balaam, is from time to time drawn aside, and other charac¬ ters than those which belonged to the Chosen People appear in the distance, fraught with an instruction which even transcends the limits of the Jewish Church, and not only in place, but in time, far outruns the teaching of any peculiar age or nation. Such is the 1 Num. xxi. 20. 27 210 PISGAH. Lect. VIII. discussion of the profoundest questions of religious philosophy in the hook of the Gentile Job. Such is the appearance of the Gentile Prophet Balaam. He is one of those characters of whom, whilst so little is told that we seem to know nothing of him, yet, what- Hisposi- ever little is, raises him at once to the tlon> highest pitch of interest. His home is beyond 1 the Euphrates, amongst the mountains where the vast streams of Mesopotamia have their rise. But his fame is known across the Assyrian desert, through the Ara¬ bian tribes, down to the very shores of the Dead Sea. He ranks as a warrior chief (by that combination of soldier and prophet, already seen in Moses himself) with the five kings of Midian. 2 He is regarded throughout the whole of the East as a Prophet, whose blessing or whose curse was irresistible, the rival, the possible conqueror of Moses. In his career is seen that recognition of Divine Inspiration outside the Chosen People, which the narrowness of modern times has been so eager to deny, but which the Scriptures 3 are al¬ ways ready to acknowledge, and, by acknowledging, admit within the pale of the teachers of the Universal Church, the higher spirits of every age and of every nation. His character, Oriental and primeval though it be, is 1 Num. xxii. 5, xxiii. 7, xxiv. 6 ; “ the river ” = Euphrates. 2 lb. xxxi. 8. 3 Josephus (Ant. iv. 6, § 13) consid¬ ers it a special matter of commenda¬ tion on Moses that, in spite of Balaam’s hostility to the chosen people, he yet “ rightly honored him by thus record¬ ing his prophecies,” which he might have appropriated to himself. The form of this statement is conceived in the prosaic fashion of Josephus. But the spirit of it is perfectly just and applies to the Bible generally. Ba¬ laam was no more a member of the Jewish Church than was Socrates. He was as great an enemy of the Church as Julian. But not the less has the sacred historian done that jus¬ tice to the alien and the enemy, which many Christian theologians have made it a point of honor to deny. Lect. VIII. BALAAM. 211 delineated with that fineness of touch which has ren¬ dered it the storehouse of theologians and mor- His char _ alists in the most recent ages of the Church. acter ‘ Three great divines have from different points of view drawn out, without exhausting, the subtle phases of his greatness and of his fall. The self-deception which persuades him in every case that the sin which he com¬ mits may he brought within the rules of conscience and revelation; 1 the dark shade cast over a noble course by standing always on the ladder of advance¬ ment, and by the suspense of a worldly ambition never satisfied; 2 the combination of the purest form of re¬ ligious belief with a standard of action immeasurably below 8 it; these have given to the story of Balaam, the son of Beor, a hold over the last hundred years, which it never can have had over any period of the human mind less critical or less refined. One feels a kind of awe in the gradual preparation, with which he is brought before us, as if in the fore¬ boding of some great catastrophe. The King of the civilized Moabites unites with the Elders, or Sheiks, of the Bedouin Midianites, to seek for aid against the powerful nation who (to use their own peculiarly pas¬ toral image) “ licked up all that were round about “ them, as the ox licked up the grass of the field ” 4 of Moab. Twice, across the whole length of the As¬ syrian desert, the messengers, with the Oriental bribes of divination in their hands, are sent to conjure forth the mighty seer from his distant home. 5 In the per¬ mission to go when, once refused, he presses for a favorable answer, which at last comes, though leading 1 Butler’s Sermons, vii. 5 Compare, for this extended inter- 2 Newman’s Sermons, iv. 21. course between such distant localities, 3 Arnold’s Sermons, vi. 55, 56. Blunt’s Coincidences, Pt. I. § xxiii. 4 Num. xxii. 4. « 212 PISGAH. Lect. VIII. him to ruin, we see the peculiar turn of teaching which characterizes the purest of the ancient heathen oracles. It is the exact counterpart of the elevated rebuke of the Oracle at Cumae to Aristodicus, and of His jour- the Oracle of Delphi to Glaucus! Reluctantly, ney * at last he comes. The dreadful apparition on the way, the desperate resistance of the terrified ani¬ mal, the furious determination of the Prophet to ad¬ vance, the voice, however explained, 2 which breaks from the dumb creature that has saved his life, all heighten The first the expectation of the message that he is to of 1 Baiaam deliver. When Balaam and Balak first meet, and Baiak. s h 0 rt dialogue, preserved not by the Mosaic historian but by the Prophet Micah, 3 at once exhibits the agony of the King and the lofty conceptions of the great seer. “ 0 my people, remember what Ba- “ lak, king of Moab, consulted, and what Balaam, the “ son of Beor, answered. c Wherewith shall I come before “ ‘ the Lord , and bow myself before the High God ? Shall “ ‘ I come before Him with burnt offerings, with calves of a “‘ year old ? Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of “‘rams, or with ten thousands of rivers of oil? Shall I “ ‘ give my first-born for my transgression, the fruit of my “ ‘ body for the sin of my soul ? ’ ” So speaks the super¬ stitious feeling of all times, but, in a peculiar sense, of the royal house of Moab, always ready, in a na¬ tional crisis, to appease offended Heaven by the sacri¬ fice 4 of the heir to the throne. The reply is such as 1 Herod, i. 53, 55 ; vi. 85 ; compare 1 Kings xxii. 22 ; Ezek. xiv. 5. 2 Hengstenberg ( GescMchte Bile- ams , 50-54) represents it as a dream or trance. 3 Micah vi. 5, &c. 4 Comp. 2 Kings iii. 27 (see Mr. Grove on “ Moab ” in Diet, of Bible). This coincidence seems of itself suffi¬ cient to show that this passage of Mi¬ cah vi. is not, as some have supposed, a merely general statement, but is in¬ tended for the dialogue between Ba¬ laam and Balak. Lect. VIII. BALAAM. 213 breathes the very essence of the Prophetic spirit, such as had at that early time hardly expressed itself dis¬ tinctly even within the Mosaic Revelation itself. “ He u hath showed thee, 0 man, what is good ; and what doth the “ Lord require of thee but to do justly, and to love mercy, and “ to walk humbly with thy God .” If this is, indeed, intended to describe the first meeting of the King and the Seer, it en- The divi _ hances the pathos of the struggle which con- natlons - tinues through each successive interview. Sometimes the one only, sometimes both together, are seen striv¬ ing to overpower the voice of conscience and of God with the fumes of sacrifice, yet always failing in the attempt, which the Prophet had himself at the outset declared to be vain. The eye follows the Two, as they climb upwards from height to height along the extended range, to the 66 high places ” 1 dedicated to Baal, on the a top of the rocks,” — ct the bare hill” 2 close above it, — the u cultivated field” 3 of the Watchmen (Zophim) on the top of Pisgah, 4 — to the peak where stood “ the sanctuary of Peor, that looketh toward the waste.” It is at this point that the scene has been caught in the well-known lines of the poet, — “ Oh for a sculptor’s hand That thou mightst take thy stand, Thy wild hair floating on the eastern breeze, Thy tranc’d yet open gaze Fix’d on the desert haze, As one who deep in heav’n some airy pageant sees. “ In outline dim and vast Their fearful shadows cast, 1 Bamoth , Num. xxii. 41. 2 Sheji, lb. xxiii. 3, 9. 3 Sadeh, lb. xxiii. 14. 4 Num. xxiii. 28; Deut. xxxiv. 1. 214 PISGAH. Lect. Till. The giant forms of Empire on their way To ruin : one by one They tow’r and they are gone. Yet in the Prophet’s soul the dreams of avarice stay.” 1 Behind him lay the vast expanse of desert extend¬ ing to the shores of his native Assyrian river. On his left were the red mountains of Edom and Seir: opposite were the dwelling-places of the Kenite, in the rocky fastnesses of Engedi; further still was the dim outline of the Arabian wilderness, where ruled the then powerful tribe of Amalek; immediately be¬ low him lay the vast encampment of Israel, amongst the acacia groves of Abel Shittim, — like the water¬ courses of the mountains, 2 like the hanging gardens beside his own river Euphrates, 3 with their aromatic shrubs, and their wide-spreading cedars. Beyond them, on the western side of Jordan, rose the hills of Palestine, with glimpses through their valleys o ' ancient cities towering on their crested heights. And beyond all, though he could not see it with his bodily vision, he knew well that there rolled the deep waters of the great sea, with the Isles of Greece, the Isle of Chittim, — a world of which the first beginnings of life were just stirring,, of which the very name here first breaks upon our ears. These are the points indicated in the view which lay before the Prophet as he stood on the Watchers’ Field, on the top of Pisgah. What was the vision which unrolled itself as he heard the words of God, as he saw the vision of the Almighty, u falling ” 4 pros¬ trate in the prophetic trance, “ but having the eyes ” 1 Keble’s Christian Year , 2d Sun- 3 Nahar (Ibid.) day after Easter. 4 The same word as in 1 Sam. xix. 8 Nachal, Num. xxiv. 6. 24; comp. Jos. Ant. iv. 6, § 12. Lect. VIII. BALAAM. 215 of his mind and his spirit "open”? The outward forms still remained. He still saw the tents below, goodly in their array; he still saw the rocks, and hills, and distant desert: but, as his thought glanced from height to height, and from valley to mountain, the future fortunes of the nations who dwelt there unfolded themselves in dim succession, revolving round and from the same central object. From the midst of that vast encampment he seemed to see streams, as of w^ater flowing to and fro The vision, over the valleys, giving life to the dry desert and to the salt sea. 1 He seemed to see a form as of a mighty lion couched amidst the thickets, 2 or on the mountain fastnesses of Judah, " and none should rouse " him up; ” or the " wild bull ” 3 raging from amidst the archers of Ephraim, trampling down his enemies, piercing them through with the well-known arrows 4 of the tribe. And yet again, in the more distant future, he "saw, but not now,” — he "beheld, but not nigh,” — as with the intuition of his Chaldsean art, — "a " Star,” bright as those of the far Eastern sky, " come " out of Jacob; ” and " a sceptre,” like the shepherd’s staff that marked the ruler of the tribe, " rise out of " Israel: ” and then, as he watched the course of the surrounding nations, he saw how, one by one, they would fall, as fall they did, before the conquering sceptre of David, before the steady advance of that Star which then, for the first time, rose out of Beth¬ lehem. And, as he gazed, the vision became wider and wider still. He saw a time when a new tem¬ pest would break over all these countries alike, from the remote east, — from Assur, from his own 1 Nurn. xxiv. 7, as in Ezek. xlvii. 8. 3 Ibid. 8, Auth. Vers. “ unicorn.” 2 Ibid. 9. 4 Compare Ps. Ixxviii. 9. 216 PISGAH. Lect. VIII native land of Assyria. “ Assur shall carry thee “ away captive.” But at that word another scene opened before him, and a cry of horror burst from his lips: “ Alas! who shall live when God doeth this! ” For his own nation, too, was to be at last overtaken. “For ships shall come from the coast of Chittim,” — from the island of Cyprus, which, as the only one visible from the heights of Palestine, was the one familiar link with the western world — “and shall “ crush Assur, and shall crush Eber, ‘ the people be- “‘yond the Euphrates/ and he also shall perish for “ ever.” So it came to pass, when the ships of Cyprus, of Greece, of Europe, then just seen in the horizon of human 1 hopes and fears, did at last, under the great Macedonian conqueror, turn the tide of eastern in¬ vasion backwards; and Asshur and Babylon, Assyria and Chaldaea, and Persia, no less than the wild hordes of the desert, “ perished for ever ” from the earth. 2 It has often been debated, and no evidence now remains to prove, at what precise time this grandest of all its episodes was introduced into the Mosaic nar¬ rative. But, however this may be determined, the magnificence of the vision remains untouched; and it stands in the Sacred record, the first example of the 1 The earliest known event to which this could refer was the attack on the colony of Sardanapalus in Cilicia by the Cyprian fleet. Euseb. Chron. Arm. i. pp. 26, 27. For the general relations of Cyprus to the East see Sharpe. 2 For “ ships of Chittim” the Vul¬ gate reads “ galleys from Italy.” The general sense of “ the West” is still preserved. But the exchange of the familiar island of Cyprus for the country, at that time unknown and unintelligible to the East, of Italy , well illustrates the difference between Prophecy as it appears in the Bible, and as it appears in the theories of later ages. See Lecture XX. Lect. VIII. BALAAM. 217 Prophetic utterances respecting the destinies of the world at large; founded, like all such utterances, on the objects immediately in the range of the vision of the seer, but including within their sw T eep a vast prospect beyond. Here first the Gentile world, not of the East only but of the West, bursts into view; and here is the first sanction of that wide interest in the various races and empires of mankind, not only as bearing on the fortunes of the Chosen People, but for their own sakes also, which the narrow spirits of the Jewish Church first, and of the Christian Church since, have been so slow to acknowledge. Here, too, is exhibited in its most striking form the irresistible force of the Prophetic impulse overpowering the baser spirit of the individual man. The spectacle of the host of Israel, even though seen only from its utmost skirts, is too much for him. The Divine message struggling within him, is delivered in spite of his own sordid resistance. Many has been the Balaam whom the force of truth or goodness from without, or the force of genius or conscience from within, has com¬ pelled to bless the enemies whom he was hired to curse. “ Like the seer of old, Who stood on Zophim, heav’n-controll’d.” “And Balaam rose up and went and returned to “his own place.” The Sacred historian, as if touched with a feeling of the greatness of the Prophet’s mis¬ sion, drops the veil over its dark close. Only by the incidental notice 1 of a subsequent part of the narra¬ tive, are we told how Balaam endeavored to effect 2 1 Josephus amplifies the single word elaborate embassy to the Euphrates. —• ef the Biblical narrative into another Ant. iv. 6, § 5-8. 2 Num. xxxi. 8, 16. 28 218 KADESH AND PISGAH. Lect. YIIL Farewell of Moses, by the licentious rites of the Arab tribes, the ruin which he had been unable to work by his curses; and how, in the war of vengeance which followed, he met with his mournful end. 2. The intermingling of the narratives of the Book of Numbers, the Book of Deuteronomy, the Book of Joshua; the rise of new names, Eleazar, Phineas, Jair; indicate that we are approach¬ ing the confines of another generation, and another stage of the history. But the main interest still hangs round Moses, and round the heights of Pisgah. We need not here discuss the vexed question of the De U ter- precise time when the Book of Deuteronomy 1 °n°my. assumed its present form. It is enough to feel that it represents to us the long farew r ell of the Prophet and Lawgiver, as he stood amongst the groves of Abel Shittim, and recapitulated the course of his career and of his legislation. Parts, at least, have every appearance of belonging to that stage of the history and to no other; when they were still beyond the Jordan, when the institutions of the conquest and the monarchy were still undeveloped. And, if the features of the earlier law are from time to time transfigured with a softer and a more spiritual light, this change, whilst it may have received some touches from the later spirit of the great Prophetic age, yet is also in close harmony — it may be, dramatic har¬ mony — with the soothing and widening process which belongs to the old age, not merely of every nation, but of every individual. Deuteronomy has been soine- 1 At the time of the Christian era, 8, § 48 ; Phil. V. M. iii. 39.) This hy- and probably long afterwards, the ac- pothesis is worth recording as an ex¬ count of the death and burial of Moses ample of interpretation now entirely was supposed to have been written by superseded, himself as a prediction. (Jos. Ant. iv. Lect. YIII. FAREWELL OF MOSES. 219 times said to be to the earlier books of the Law, as the Fourth Gospel to the earlier Three. The comparison may hold good in regard no less to the actual advance in the character of Moses the Lawgiver and Moses the expiring Prophet, -and the character of the Son of Thunder and the aged Evangelist. In this last representation of Moses, one feature is brought out more forcibly than ever before. The poetic utterances, regarded as an indispensable accom¬ paniment of the prophetic gift, now come forth in full strength; the vox cycnea of the departing seer. Two of these, at least in their general conception, belong exclusively to this epoch, the Eve of The two the Conquest: the Song of battle and of warn- Moses, ing by which Joshua was to be cheered, and the Blessing, it might almost be said the war-cry, of the several tribes. In some minute points, also, we seem to trace the feeling of this particular crisis of the his¬ tory. The name by which, in the Song of Moses, the God of Israel is called, must, in the first instance, have been suggested by the Desert-wanderings,— “ The Rock.” Nine times in the course of this single Hymn is repeated this most expressive figure, taken from the granite crags of Sinai, and carried thence, through psalms and hj^mns of all nations, like one of the huge fragments which it represents, to regions as remote in aspect as in distance, from its original birth¬ place. If “ The Rock ” carries us back to the desert, the pastoral riches to which the Song refers confine us to the eastern bank of the Jordan. “The butter “ of kine, and milk of sheep, with fat of lambs, and “rams of the breed of Bashan, and goats, with the * fat of kidneys of wheat.” 1 It would be too bold to 1 Deut. xxxii. 13, 14. 220 KADESH AND PISGAH. Lect. Yin. say that these words could not have occurred to any one in Western Palestine; hut they are so far more appropriate to the Eastern downs and forests, that we may fairly see in them a stamp of that peculiar locality. The third hymn, which, by its title, belongs to this The Prayer period, is of far more universal interest, of Moses. “ The Prayer of Moses the man of God ” 1 which contrasts the fleeting generations of man with the mountains at whose feet they wandered, and the eternity of Him who existed “ before ever those mountains were brought forth,” has become the fune¬ ral hymn of the world, and is evidently intended to he treated as the funeral hymn of the Prophet him¬ self. The most recent criticism, whilst hesitating to receive it as actually the composition of Moses, re¬ joices to see in it his spirit throughout. “ The Psalm “ has something in it unusually arresting, solemn, and “ sinking deep into the depths of the Divinity. Moses “ might well have been seized by these awful thoughts “ at the close of his wanderings, and the author, who- 66 ever he be, is clearly a man grown gray with vast “ experience, who here takes his stand at the end of “ his earthly course.” 2 The end was at last come. It might still have The last seemed that a triumphant close was in store pisgah. for the aged Prophet. “ His eye was not dim nor his natural force abated.” He had led his people to victory against the Amorite kings; he might still be expected to lead them over into the land of Canaan. But so it was not to be. From the desert plains of Moab he went up to the same lofty range whence Balaam had looked over the same prospect. The 1 Ps. xc. 2 Ewald, Psalmen, 91. Lect. VIII. THE LAST VIEW FROM PISGAH. 221 same, but seen with eyes how different! The view of Balaam has been long forgotten; but the view of Moses had become the proverbial view of all time. It was the peak dedicated to Nebo on which he stood. “ He lifted up his eyes westward, and northward, and u southward, and eastward.” 1 Beneath him lay the tents of Israel ready for the march; and “ over against ” them, distinctly visible in its grove of palm-trees, the stately Jericho, key of the Land of Promise. Beyond was spread out the whole range of the mountains of Palestine, in its fourfold masses; “ all Gilead,” with Hermon and Lebanon in the east and north; the hills of Galilee, overhanging the Lake of Gennesareth; the wide opening where lay the plain of Esdraelon, the future battle-field of the nations; the rounded summits of Ebal and Gerizim; immediately in front of him the hills of Judsea, and, amidst them, seen distinctly through the rents in their rocky walls, Bethlehem on its nar¬ row ridge, and the invincible fortress of Jebus. To him, so far as we know, the charm of that view — pronounced by the few modern travellers who have seen it to be unequalled of its kind — lay in the as¬ surance that this was the land promised to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob, and to their seed, the inheri¬ tance— with all its varied features of rock and pas¬ ture, and forest and desert — for the sake of which he had borne so many years of toil and danger, in the midst of which the fortunes of his people would be unfolded worthily of that great beginning. To us, as we place ourselves by his side, the view swells into colossal proportions, as we think how the proud city of palm-trees is to fall before the hosts of Israel; how the spear of Joshua is to be planted on height after 1 Deut iii. 27. 222 KADESH AND FISGAH. Lect. yin. height of those hostile mountains; what series of events, wonderful beyond any that had been witnessed in Egypt or in Sinai, would in after-ages be enacted on the narrow crest of Bethlehem, in the deep basin of the Galilean lake, beneath the walls of "Jebus, " which is Jerusalem.” All this he saw. He " saw it with his eyes, but he " was not to go over thither.” It was his last view. From that height he came down no more. Jewish, Mussulman, and Christian traditions crowd in to fill up the blank. " Amidst the tears of the people, the " women beating their breasts and the children giv¬ ing way to uncontrolled wailing, he withdrew. At "a certain point in his ascent he made a sign to the " weeping multitude to advance no further, taking "with him only the elders, the high priest Eliezer, "and the general Joshua. At the top of the moun¬ tain he dismissed the elders, and then, as he was "embracing Eliezer and Joshua, and still speaking to "them, a cloud suddenly stood over him, and he van¬ ished in a deep valley.” So spoke the tradition as preserved in the language, here unusually pathetic, of Josephus. Other wilder stories told of the Divine kiss which drew forth his expiring spirit; others of the " Ascension of Moses ” amidst the contention of good and evil spirits over his body. 1 The Mussul¬ mans, regardless of the actual scene of his death, have raised to him a tomb on the western side of the Jor¬ dan, frequented by thousands of Mussulman devotees. But the silence of the Sacred narrative refuses to be broken. "In” that strange land, "the land of Moab, " Moses the servant of the Lord died according to " the word of the Lord.” " He buried him in ‘ a ra- 1 Jude 9. Fabricius, Cod. Pseudep. i. 839-846. Lect. VIII. THE END OF MOSES. 223 “ vine ’ in the land of Moab, over against the idol “temple of Peor.” Apart from his countrymen, hon¬ ored by no funeral obsequies, visited by no grateful pilgrimages, “no man knoweth of his sepulchre unto “this day”* Two impressive truths are involved in this repre¬ sentation of the death of Moses, truths which hardly occur again with equal force in the history till we meet them again in the end of Him, of whom, in the New Testament, Moses is so often made the illus¬ tration and likeness. First,-the mystery, the Thegrave uncertainty, which overhangs the burial-place of Moses * of the greatest character of the Jewish Church, is a sample of the general feeling with which these local sanctuaries were regarded. Doubtless, as in the case of the Patriarchal sepulchres at Hebron, and the royal sepulchres at Jerusalem, the natural instinct of reverence for the tombs of the illustrious dead, often asserted its own rights. But, as if to show that this is a secondary and not a primary element of relig¬ ious sentiment, when we come to the highest cases of all, the grave on Mount Nebo, the grave on Gol¬ gotha, the darkness closes upon the sacred spot: “ no man knoweth of his sepulchre until this day.” Secondly, the scene on Pisgah is at once the fitting end of the life of Moses, and the exemplifica- The End o , tion of a general law. In one sense it might Moses * seem mournful, incomplete, disappointing; but in an¬ other and higher sense, how fully in accordance with his whole career, how truly the crowning point of his life! The personal characteristics of the Prophet are too faintly drawn to admit of any fuller delineation. But one feature is indisputably marked out. No modern 224 KADESH AND PISGAH. Lect. VIII. word seems exactly to correspond to that which our translators have rendered a the meekest of men,” — i ‘ i but which rather expresses “ enduring,” “ afflicted,” “ heedless of self” This at any rate is the trait most strongly impressed on all his actions from first to last. So in Egypt he threw himself into the thank¬ less cause of his oppressed brethren; at his earliest call he prayed that Aaron might be the leader in¬ stead of himself; at Sinai he besought that his name might be blotted out if only his people might be spared; in the desert, he wished that not only he, but all the Lord’s people might prophesy. He found¬ ed no dynasty; his own sons were left in deep ob¬ scurity; his successor was taken from the rival tribe of Ephraim. He himself receives for once the regal title “the King 1 in Jeshurun;” but the title dies with him. It is as the highest type and concentra¬ tion of this endurance and self-abnegation, that the last view from Pisgah receives its chief instruction. To labor and not to see the end of our labors; to sow and not to reap; to be removed from this earthly scene before our work has been appreciated, and when it will be carried on not by ourselves, but by others, — is a law so common in the highest characters of history, that none can be said to be altogether ex¬ empt from its operation. It is true in intellectual matters as well as in spiritual; and one of the finest applications of any passage in the Mosaic history, is that made by Cowley, and extended by Lord Macau- ley to the great English philosopher, who — “ Did on the very border stand Of the blessed Promised Land; 1 Deut. xxxiii. 5. Lect. Yin. THE END OF MOSES. 225 And from the mountain’s top of his exalted wit Saw it himself, and show’d us it; But life did never to one man allow Time to discover worlds and conquer too.” “In the first book of the Novum Organum we see “the great Lawgiver looking round from his lonely “ elevation on an infinite expanse; behind him a wil- “ derness of dreary sands and bitter waters, in which “ successive generations have sojourned, always mov- “ing, yet never advancing, reaping no harvest and “ building no abiding city: before him a goodly land, “a land of promise, a land flowing with milk and “ honey. While the multitude below saw only the “ flat sterile desert in which they had so long wan- “ dered, bounded on every side by a near horizon, or “ diversified only by some deceitful mirage, he was “ gazing from a far higher stand, on a far lovelier “ country, following with his eye the long course of “ fertilizing rivers, through ample pastures, and under “ the bridges of great capitals, measuring the dis- “ tances of marts and barns, and portioning out all “ these wealthy regions from Dan to Beersheba.” 1 The imagery thus nobly used to describe the prom¬ ise and the self-denial of intellectual labor, is still more true of the many reformers, martyrs, and mis¬ sionaries, John Huss, Tyndale, Francis Xavier, How¬ ard, who, in all times of the Church, have died on the threshold of their reward, in hope, not in posses¬ sion. Events have moved too slow, and the genera¬ tion passes away which should have supported the saint or the chief; or events have moved too fast, and the rising generation has superseded the want of a leader; or a word has been spoken unadvisedly 1 Macaulay’s Essays, vol. iii. p. 493. 29 226 KADESH AND PISGAH. Lect. VIII. with his lips, and his prospects are suddenly over¬ cast; or he is struck by decay of power, or by sud¬ den, untimely death; again and again the Moses of the Church, of the commonwealth, lingers there, “ dies “ there in the land of Moab, and goes not over to “ possess that good land; ” and Canaan is won, not by the first and greatest of the nation, but by his sub¬ ordinate minister and successor, Joshua the son of Nun. THE CONQUEST OF PALESTINE. IX. THE CONQUEST OF THE EAST OF THE JORDAN. X. THE CONQUEST OF WESTERN PALESTINE.—THE FALL OF JERICHO AND AI. XL THE CONQUEST OF WESTERN PALESTINE.—THE BAT¬ TLE OF BETH-HORON. XH. THE CONQUEST OF WESTERN PALESTINE.—THE BAT¬ TLE OF MEROM, AND SETTLEMENT OF THE TRIBES. THE AUTHORITIES FOR THIS PART OF THE HISTORY. 1. (1.) Num. xxi. 21-35 ; xxv., xxxi., xxxii., xxxiv.; Deut. ii. 1; iii. 31; iv. 41-49; xxix. 7, 8; Joshua i.-xxiv.; Judgl i. 1-36; xi. 15-26; xviii. 1-31; 1 Chron. ii. 20-24. (2.) Ps. xliv. 1-4; lxxviii. 55; cxiv. 3, 5; cxxxvi. 17-22; Ecclus. xlvi. 1-12. (3.) The Characteristics of the tribes, Gen. xlix.; Deut. xxxiii. 2. Jewish traditions. (1.) Josephus, Ant . iv. 5, 6, 7 ; v. 1. (2.) Rab¬ binical legends, in Otho’s Lex. rabbin. 332 ; Fabricius’s Codex pseudepigraph. Vet. Test. 871-873. (a.) Joshua’s Prayer. (b.) Joshua’s Ten Decrees. (3.) Philo, De Caritate. (4.) Sa¬ maritan Book of Joshua, edited by Juynboll, 1848. [It was ■written in Arabic — probably in the 12th century — in Egypt, and is chiefly valuable as representing the traditions and feelings of the Samaritan community.] 3. Heathen traditions, mentioned by Suidas ( sub voce Xavaav) ; Moses Choren. (Hist. Arm. i. 18); Procopius (Bell. Vand. ii. 4). THE CONQUEST OF PALESTINE. LECTURE IX. THE CONQUEST OF THE EAST OF THE JORDAN. “ The Conquest of Palestine ” introduces us to one of the most secular portions of the Sacred The Coll _ history. The very phrase is to some minds an quest offence. It suggests the likeness of other conquests. It compels us to regard the geography, the battles, the settlement of Israel, as we should consider the like circumstances in other countries. Such an of¬ fence is, to a certain degree, inevitable. But this stage of the history, secular as it is, presents also a religious aspect, on which, according to the plan of these Lectures, it will he my object to lay the chief stress, though not to the omission of those general considerations which here, as in other ecclesiastical history, are necessary to the understanding of the purely religious incidents intertwined with them. The period of the Conquest, properly speaking, commences before the time of Joshua and its stages, extends far beyond it. It began from the passage of the brook Zered under Moses: it was not finally closed till the capture of Jerusalem by David. But, in a more limited sense, it may be confined to the period during which the territory, afterwards known by the name of Palestine, was definitively occupied as 230 CONQUEST OF THE EAST OF JORDAN. Lect. IX. their own by the Israelites. This divides itself into two stages: the first, including the occupation of the district east of the Jordan; the second, and most im¬ portant, including the occupation of Western Pales¬ tine in its three great divisions, the valley of the Jordan, the southern and central mountains after¬ wards known as Judaea and Samaria, and the north¬ ern mountains afterwards known as Galilee. The Israelite conquest of Palestine, although it stands above all other like events from its intrinsic grandeur, yet is in itself but one amongst a succes¬ sion of waves which have swept over the country, and each of which may be used as an illustration of those that have gone before and after. The Egyp¬ tians, Assyrians, Babylonians, Greeks, Eomans, Ara¬ bians, Turks, Crusaders, French, English, have fol¬ lowed in their wake; the Philistines, the Canaanites, the aboriginal inhabitants, accompanied or preceded them. It is of these earlier conquests alone that we need The eariv h ere speak. The aboriginal inhabitants have of h Westem already 1 been briefly described. They be- Paiestme. ] on g e( j so entirely to the dim distance, that their name, “ Rephaim,” was used in after-times to designate the huge guardians or the shadowy ghosts 2 of the world below. But we can just discern their forms before they vanish, and some remnants of them lingered till later times. Their lofty stature is often noticed. It is possible that this impression may be partly derived from the contrast between them and the diminutive Hebrews, in like manner as a similar description, from the like contrast between the north- 1 Lecture II. 10; Prov. ii. 18; ix. 18; xxi. 16; Isa. 2 See Gesenius, in voce; Ps. lxxxviii. xxvi. 14, 19. Lect. IX. THE CANAANITES. 231 ern races of Europe and the small limbs and features of the Italians, is given, by Koman historians and poets, of the gigantic Gauls. On the west of the Jordan this race appears chiefly under two names: the “Anakim” in the southern mountains, and the “ Avites ” on the maritime plain . 1 The centre of the race of Anak was, as we have seen, Hebron or Kir- jath-Arba. The Avites, it would seem, were still com¬ paratively secure in their western corner. Their con¬ querors, the Philistines , 2 had not yet appeared; at least not in any overwhelming force. But in all the rest of Palestine, already in the Patriarchal The Ca _ age the a ancient solitary reign ” of these abo- naamtes - riginal tribes had been disturbed by the appearance here and there of powerful chiefs belonging to the Phoenician or Canaanite branch of the Semitic race. The variations in the usage of the words, sometimes the variations of the text, prevent us from accurately fixing the mutual relations of the several Canaanite tribes to each other. Thus much, however, is clear . 3 The Canaanites , 4 or “ Lowlanders,” properly so called, occupied the sea-coast as far south as Dor, a consider¬ able portion of the plain of Esdraelon, and some spots in the valley of the Jordan. The Amorites, or moun¬ taineers, occupied the central and southern hills with the Hittites and Hivites. Of these intruders, the Amo¬ rites seem to have been the most ancient and the most warlike, perhaps allied to the old gigantic race with which from time to time they appear in connection . 5 The Hittites belong to the more peaceful occupants, 1 Deut. ii. 21, 23. xiii. 29; and compare, throughout, 2 See Lecture XVI. Ewald, i. 301-342. 2 The most exact account of the 4 Deut. i. 7. relations of these tribes is in Num. 5 Deut iv. 47; xxxi. 4; Jos. ix. 10; Amos ii. 9. 232 CONQUEST OF THE EAST OF JORDAN. Lect. IX. and their name is that by which Palestine in these early ages was chiefly known in foreign countries. The Hivites, like the Phoenicians of the north, in¬ clined to a more regular form of political organization. Of the lesser subdivisions, the Jebusites are attached to the Amorites, the Perizzites to the Hittites, and the Girgashites to the Hivites. If, from the bare enumeration of names and geo¬ graphical situations, we pass to the outward appear¬ ance, or the moral and social condition of the inhabi¬ tants of Syria, when the Israelites broke in upon them, the task is far more difficult. They seem to rise be¬ fore us only to vanish away. Hardly a dying word escapes. The Sacred historian turns away as if in silent aversion. Yet the picture, which from the Israelite point of view is so dark and shadowy, receives The Phce- a sudden light from a quarter then unknown Canaanites. and unthought of. It is startling to be remind¬ ed that “ Canaanite ” is but another name 1 for “ Phoe¬ nician ; ” that the detested and accursed race, as it appears in the Books of Joshua and Judges, is the same as that to which from Greece we look back as the parent of letters, of commerce, of civilization. The Septuagint translators wavered between preserving the original Hebrew word, or adopting the name of “ Phoenician,” as already recognized by the Greek lan¬ guage. Had they chosen in all cases, as they have in some , 2 the latter of these two alternatives, it is curious to reflect how essentially our ideas of the an¬ cient inhabitants of Palestine might have been modi¬ fied. Yet, in fact, the illustrations of the Phoenician For the name of “ Canaanite ” as 2 The word is so translated by the coextensive with “ Phoenician," see LXX. in Ex. xvi. 35; Josh. v. 1. Kenrick’s Phoenicia, 42, 52. Lect. IX. CANAANITE RACES. 233 or Canaanite history from Gentile sources coincide substantially with what we learn from the Jewish an¬ nals. In both, we see the same dusky complexion of the race , 1 distinguished alike from the western Greeks and the eastern Israelites. In both, we track them advancing into Palestine from the extreme south . 2 In both, the coexistence, side by side, of monarchical, federal , 3 and aristocratic institutions can be traced. In both, their general equality, if not superiority, in social arts to the surrounding nations and to the Israelites themselves, is acknowledged. They are in possession of fortified towns, treasures of brass, iron, gold, and foreign merchandise. They, no less than the Egyp¬ tians and Israelites, retain the mark of an ancient sacred civilization in the rite of circumcision . 4 And in both accounts, their religious rites are described in the same terms, — human sacrifices, licentious orgies, the worship of a host of divinities. But the differ¬ ence between the two representations, which has, in fact, almost blinded us to the fact of the identity of the nation described by the two authorities, is more instructive than their likeness. The Israelite version, on the one hand, we must freely grant, takes no heed of the nobler aspect which this great people present¬ ed to the western world; or, at least, not till the wider prophetic view of Isaiah and Ezekiel compre¬ hended within the sympathy of the Jewish Church 1 For the dark color of the race see the arguments adduced both from Gen. x. 7, and from Strabo, xii. 144, in Kenrick’s Phoenicia , 50, 52. 2 Kenrick, 50. 3 See Ewald, ii. 337, and Lecture XV. 4 The argument from the excep- 30 tional case of the Philistines, 1 Sam. xviii. 25-27; 2 Sam. i. 20, combined with the historical statement in Herod, ii. 104, is convincing. From Gen. xxxiv. 15, it would appear that the early Shechemites were not circum¬ cised. 234 CONQUEST OF EASTERN PALESTINE. Lect. IX. the grander elements of Sidonian power and Tyrian splendor. But, on the other hand, the Gentile ac¬ counts are insensible to the cruel, debasing, and name¬ less sins which turned the heart of the Israelite sick, in the worship of Baal, Astarte, and Moloch. It is true that these are but the same divinities, whom we regard leniently, if not indulgently, when we find them in the forms of Jupiter, Apollo, Yenus, Hercules, Adonis. But the other phase is not to be forgotten; and when Milton took these names of Syrian idols to represent the evil spirits of Pandemonium, and thus renewed, as it were, to them a lease of exist¬ ence which seemed long since to have died out, he did but place us, though but for a moment, in the condition of the soldiers of the first conquest of Pales¬ tine, to whom Beelzebub and Moloch were living powers of evil, as hateful as though they actually personified the principles with which he has identified them . 1 The bright side of Polytheism is so familiar to us in the mythology of Greece, that it is well to be recalled for a time to its dark side in Pales¬ tine. From the general consideration of the Conquest, we Conquest of turn to the first stage of it in the territory Palestine, east of the Jordan, — that mysterious eastern frontier of the Holy Land, so beautiful, so romantic, so little known, whether we look at it through the distant glimpses and hasty surveys of it obtained by modern travellers, or the scanty notices of its first conquest in the Book of Numbers. On the eastern side of the Jordan valley two frag- 1 “ Before Milton, if Moloch, Belial, and distinct poetic existence.” Mil- Mammon, &c\, were not absolutely un- man’s Latin Christianity , book xiv, known to history, they had no proper ch. 2. Lect. IX. CONQUEST OF HESHBON. 235 ments of the aboriginal race had existed under the name of “ Emim,” and “ Zamzummim ” or “ Zuzim 1 These old inhabitants had been expelled by the kin¬ dred tribes of Moab and Ammon. But they in turn had, just before the point of the history at which we have now arrived, been dispossessed by two Canaanite chiefs of a considerable portion of the territory which they had themselves acquired. On this motley ground the Israelites appeared in the double light of conquerors and deliverers. The story is briefly told; but its main features are dis¬ cernible, and it illustrates in many points the greater conquest for which it prepared the way. The attack on the two Canaanite kings was assists ed by a strange visitation which had just befallen the Transjordanic territory. Immense swarms of hornets, always common in Palestine , 2 burst upon the country with unusual force . 3 The chiefs were thus probably driven out of their fastnesses, and forced into the plain, where the final conflict took place. The first onslaught was upon Sihon. He occupied the whole district between the Arnon and sihon. Jabbok, through which the approach to the Heshbon. Jordan lay. He had wrested it from the predecessor of Balak, and had established himself, not in the an¬ cient capital of Moab — Ar, but in the city, still con¬ spicuous to the modern traveller from its wide pros¬ pect and its cluster of stone-pines — Heshbon. The recollection of his victory survived in a savage war- 1 Gen. xiv. 5 ; Deut. ii. 10, 20. 2 Deut. i. 44 ; Ps. cxviii. 12, and the name of Zoreah (= hornet) Josh. xv. 33. These passages make a literal acceptation of the texts above cited the most natural. See Mr. Cyril Graham’s “ Ancient Bashan ” in Cam¬ bridge Essays , 147. 3 Ex. xxiii. 28; Deut. vii. 21; Josh. xxiv. 12; Wisd. xii. 18. 236 CONQUEST OF EASTEEN PALESTINE. Lect. IX. song , 1 which passed into a kind of proverb in after¬ times :— “ Come home to Heshbon; Let the city of Sihon be built and prepared, For there is gone out a fire from Heshbon, A flame from the city of Sihon. It hath consumed Ar of Moab, And the lords of the high places of Arnon: Woe to thee, Moab: thou art undone, thou people of Chemosh! He hath given his sons that escaped, and his daughters, into captivity To the King of the Amorites, Sihon.” The decisive battle between Sihon and his new foes Battle of took place at Jahaz, probably on the confines jahaz. 0 p pastures of Moab and the desert whence the Israelites emerged. It was the first en¬ gagement in which they were confronted with the future enemies of their nation. The slingers and archers of Israel, afterwards so renowned, now first showed their skill. Sihon fell; the army fled 2 (so ran the later tradition), and, devoured by thirst, like the Athenians in the Assinarus, on their flight from Syra¬ cuse, was slaughtered in the bed of one of the moun¬ tain streams. The memory of this battle was cherished in triumphant strains, in which, after reciting, in bitter irony, the song, just quoted, of the Amorites’ triumph, they broke out into an exulting contrast of the past greatness of the defeated chief and his present fall: — “We have shot at them: Heshbon is perished: We have laid them waste: even unto Nophah: With fire : 3 even unto Medeba.” Subject to Sihon, as vassals , 4 were five Arabian 1 Num. xxi. 27-29 repeated, as if where the same word is used of the well known, in Jer. xlviii. 45, 46. Midianite chiefs Oreb and Zeeb. 2 Jos. Ant. iv. 5, § 2. They are called “ kings,” Num. xxxi. 3 Num. xxi. 30 (LXX.). 8; “princes,” Josh.xiii. 21; “elders,” 4 The word translated “ dukes,” Num. xxii. 4. Josh. xiii. 21. Comp. Ps. lxxxiii. 11, Lect. IX. DEFEAT OF MIDIAN. 237 chiefs, of the great tribe of Midian. Their names are preserved to us , 1 — Evi, Rekem, Zur, Hur, Defeat of and Reba. It was they who, doubtless ter- Midian * rifled at the fall of their sovereign, persuaded the King of Moab to rid himself of the dangerous, though at first welcome intruders, by the curse of Balaam. When this failed, and when the more sure and fatal ruin of the contagion of the licentious rites of Midian provoked the religious and moral feeling of the better spirits of the nation to that terrible retribution of which the later conquest was one long exemplification, a sacred war was proclaimed. It was headed, not by the soldier Joshua, but by the Priest Phinehas. The Ark went with the host. The sacred trumpets were blown. The chiefs of Midian were slain : 2 the great prophet of the East fell with them . 3 Their stone enclosures 4 were taken . 5 Their pastoral wealth fell to their conquerors, as in the case of the second great defeat of their tribe achieved by Gideon , 6 — ornaments of gold, and thousands of oxen, sheep, and asses. And then took place the first wholesale extermination of a conquered tribe . 7 The way was now clear to the Jordan. But the career of conquest opened on its eastern bank 0g , King was not easily closed. It is possible that the ot k ashan * thought of pushing forward in this direction was sug¬ gested to them by the neighboring and kindred tribe 1 Num. xxxi. 8. 2 Ibid. 6, 7, 8. 3 In the Samaritan Joshua (ch. 8), he is dragged out of the temple by- Joshua, who wishes to spare him; but the fierce Simeonites insist on his being put to death, lest he should fascinate them by his spells. 4 Translated “castles” in Gen. xxv. 16. 5 Num. xxxi. 10. 6 Judg. viii. 26; Num, xxxi. 36, 37-39. 7 See Lecture XI. 238 CONQUEST OF EASTERN PALESTINE. Lect. IX. of Ammon, "too strong” to be subdued, and even more interested than themselves in the expulsion of the second Canaanite chief, who had occupied the territory north of Ammon, apparently at the same time that Sihon had occupied the territory east of Moab. This was 0g, king of the district which, under the name of Bashan, extended from the Jabbok up to the base of Hermon. There is no direct notice, as in the case of Sihon, of his having invaded the country, and this omission, combined with the mention of his gigan¬ tic stature, warrants the conjecture that he was one of the leaders of the aboriginal race, for which Bashan had always been renowned. In this joint expedition of Israel and Ammon, the commanders were two heroes of the tribe of Manas- seh, Jair and Nobah. 1 The fastness of Og was the remarkable circular dis- Battie of trict formerly known by the name of Argob, or the " stony,” rendered by the Greeks " Trachonitis; ” or Chebel, " rope,” as if from the marked character of its boundary, 2 rendered by the corresponding Arabic word " Leja ” It is described as suddenly rising from the fertile plain, an island of basalt: its rocky desolation, its vast fissures, more re¬ sembling the features of some portions of the moon, than any formation on the earth. At the entrance of this fastness, as if in the Thermopylae of the king¬ dom, is Edrei. Here Og met the invaders. 3 The bat¬ tle was lost, and Bashan fell. Ashtaroth-Karnaim, the 1 In Numb, xxxii. 39-42, Josh. 2 See Article “ Argob,” Dictionary xvii. 1, “Macliir” is mentioned, but of the Bible , p. 42. it would seem that this (like Judah 3 Num. xxi. 33. Mr. Cyril Gra- and Simeon in Judg. i. 17) is a per- ham in Cambridge Essays, i. 145.— unification of the tribe. Porter’s Damascus, ii. 220. Lect. IX. CONQUEST OF BASHAN. 239 sanctuary of the Horned Astarte, 1 and perhaps the same as the capital Kenath, surrendered. It had been already the scene of a signal defeat in still more primitive times, when the aboriginal inhabi¬ tants were attacked by the Assyrian invaders from the East. 2 The Ammonites 3 carried off as their trophy the "iron bedstead” (perhaps the basaltic coffin, Sett]ement like that of Esmunazar recently found at Sidon) of Bashan - of the gigantic 0g. The Israelites occupied the whole country, remarkable even then for its sixty cities, 4 strongly walled and fortified. Here, as throughout the Transjordanic territory, the native names were altered, and new titles imposed by the Israelites, as if at once determined on making a permanent settle¬ ment. The basaltic character of the country lent itself to these cities, as naturally as the limestone of Palestine and sandstone of Edom opened into habita¬ tions in holes and caves. The country which thus fell into their hands was that known by the name of Gilead, — a name which it never lost, and which out¬ lived and superseded the divisions of the three con¬ quering tribes. The two Israelite chiefs took, as it would seem, different portions. Jair 5 occupied the more pastoral part, and founded thirty nomadic vil¬ lages, called after his name, “ the villages of Jair.” 6 1 Figures and coins with a crescent But their existence unquestionably have been found at Kenath. — Porter’s illustrates those mentioned in Deut. Damascus , ii. 106-114. iii. 4, 5. 2 Gen. xiv. 5. 5 Jair was in some way allied with 3 Deut. iii. 3-11. the family of Caleb, 1 Cliron. ii. 23; 4 Porter’s Damascus , ii. 196, 206. but the statement is too confused to Graham in Cambridge Essays , 160. furnish any basis of additional infor- Lengerke’s Kenaan , 392. I do not mation. pretend to pronounce an opinion on 6 Num. xxxii. 41; Jos. xiii. 30; ’.he age of the cities as thus described. Ewald, ii. 298. 240 SETTLEMENT OF EASTERN PALESTINE. Lect. IX. Nobah took possession of Kenath, the capital, of which he must have been the captor, and to this he also gave his name, though the old one, as so often in Syria, returned. Of these two chiefs we know but little more. It Jair. is possible that Jair is the same as the stately head 1 of a vast family mentioned amongst the Judges. His name lingered down to the time of the Chris¬ tian era; when, in the same region as that which he conquered, we find “ a ruler of the synagogue named Jair,” “ whose daughter 2 was at the point of death.” Nobah occurs nowhere else in the Hebrew Scrip- Nobah. tures. But a certain grandeur must have attached to his career to cause his selection as the representative of the Transjordanic tribes in the Sa¬ maritan Book of Joshua. 3 There, under the name of Nabih , he receives from Joshua the solemn investiture of royalty over the Eastern tribes, and sits in state, clothed in green, on his throne of judgment. The portion of the Manassite tribe which he represented, and which lay beyond the limits of Gilead, must have furnished the more civilized and settled part of the Transjordanic population, which dwelt in the walled cities left by the expelled Canaanites. Whether the settlement of the Eastern territory of Causes of Palestine was accomplished, as the Book of settle- ^ meat. Numbers would lead us to infer, within a few months, or, as the Books of Joshua and Judges would imply, in a period extending over many years, must be left uncertain. But the causes which led to it are natural in' themselves, and are expressly pointed out in the Biblical narrative. The Transjordanic terri- 1 Judg. x. 3-5. 3 Chap. 12, 24. 2 Luke viii. 41. Lect. IX. CAUSES OF THE SETTLEMENT. 241 tory was the forest-land, the pasture-land of Palestine. The smooth downs received a special name, 1 Natural t ' features of “ Mishor,” expressive of their contrast with the Trans- ' x ' jordamc the rough and rocky soil of the west. The district. “ oaks ” of Bashan, which still fill the traveller with admiration, were to the prophets and psalmists of Israel the chief glory of the vegetation of their com¬ mon country. The vast herds of wild cattle which then wandered through the woods, as those of Scot¬ land through its ancient forests, were, in like manner, at once the terror and pride of the Israelite, — “the fat bulls of Bashan.” The King of Moab was but a great “sheep-master,” and “rendered” for tribute “an “ hundred thousand lambs, and an hundred thousand “ rams with the wool.” And still the countless herds and flocks may be seen, droves of cattle moving on like troops of soldiers, descending at sunset to drink of the springs, — literally, in the language of the Prophet, “rams and lambs, and goats, and bullocks, “ all of them fatlings of Bashan.” In the encampment of Israel, two tribes, Beuhen and Gad, were preeminently nomadic. They had “a “very great multitude of cattle.” For this they de¬ sired the land, and for this it was given to them, “ that they might build cities for their little ones, “ and folds for their sheep .” 2 In no other case is the relation between the territory and its occupiers so ex¬ pressly laid down, and such it continued to be to the end. From first to last they alone of the tribes never emerged from the state of their Patriarchal an¬ cestors. Gad and Reuben accordingly divided the kingdom of Sihon between them, that is, the terri¬ tory between the Arnon and the Jabbok, and the 1 Sinai and Palestine , App. § 6. 2 Num. xxxii. 16, 24. 31 242 SETTLEMENT OF EASTERN PALESTINE. Lect. IX eastern side of the Jordan valley up to the Lake of Chinnereth, 1 or Gennesareth. Reuben was the more purely pastoral of the two, Reuben. and therefore the more transitory. -“Unstable “as water/’ he vanishes away into a mere Arabian “tribe ; his men are few;” 2 it is all that he can do “to “ live and not die.” The only events of their subse¬ quent history are the multiplication of “their cattle “in the land of Gilead;” their “wars” with the Bedouin “sons of Hagar;” 3 their spoils of “camels fifty thou¬ sand, and of sheep two hundred and fifty thousand, “and of asses two thousand.” In the chief struggles of the nation Reuben never took part. The complaint against him in the Song of Deborah is the summary of his whole history, “By the ‘streams’ of Reuben,” 4 that is, by the fresh streams which descend from the eastern hills into the Jordan and the Dead Sea, on whose banks the Bedouin chiefs then, as now, met to debate. “ By the ‘ streams ’ of Reuben great were “the ‘debates.’ Why dwellest thou among the sheep “ ‘ troughs ’ to hear the ‘ pipings ’ of the flocks ? By ‘Hhe ‘streams’ of Reuben great were the searchings “of heart.” Gad has a more distinctive character. In the forest Gad. region south of the Jabbok, “he dwelt as a “lion.” 5 Out of his tribe came the eleven valiant chiefs who crossed the fords of the Jordan in flood-time to join the outlawed David, “ whose faces were like the “faces of lions, 6 and were as swift as the ‘gazelles/ ‘ mountains sink into the plain, that this last struggle took place; and thither, at last, “ all the people of “ Israel returned in peace; none moved his tongue “ against any of the people of Israel.” A camp was formed round the royal hiding-place. It was a well- 1 I have given at length what appears to be the extract from the Poetical Book (Josh. x. 12-15). In some respects it seems to be better preserved in the LXX.; in others, in the Received Text. The LXX. has given the first portion (verse 12) in the metrical form, which the Re¬ ceived Text has reduced to prose; and has left out the reference to the Book of Jasher, which the Received Text inserts in the middle of the ex¬ tract. On the other hand, the LXX. leaves out the closing verse of the ex¬ tract (verse 15), from the just feel¬ ing that it interrupts the historical narrative ; but apparently overlook¬ ing its connection with the distinct document from Jasher. Besides the metre of the passage, some of the phrases seem to indicate its poetic character. For example, the unusual use of the word Goi (nation), for the people of Israel (in verse 13), and the expression of the sun “ being si¬ lent,” as if awe-struck. 272 BATTLE OF BETH-HORON. Lect. XI known cave, "the cave,” 1 overshadowed by a grove of trees. The five kings were dragged out of its re¬ cesses, for the first time, to the gaze of their enemies. Their names and cities were handed down in various versions, 2 to later times. Hoham or Elam, of Hebron; Piram or Phidon, of Jarmuth; Japhia or Jephtha, of Lachish • Dabir or Debir, either of Eglon or Adullam: and their leader, Adoni-zedek or Adoni-bezek, of Jeru¬ salem. If the former ("the Lord of Righteousness”) is the name, it suggests a confirmation of the tradition that the Salem where Melchi-zedek, "the King of "Righteousness,” reigned, was Jerusalem, thus confer¬ ring on its rulers a kind of hereditary designation. If the latter, he must have had a connection, more or less close, with the terrible chief who had seventy cap¬ tive princes grovelling under his table, 3 after the sav¬ age custom of Oriental despots. An awe is described as falling on the Israelite warriors, when they saw the prostrate kings. At the Conqueror’s bidding, they draw near; and according to the usage portrayed in the monuments of Assyria and Egypt, planted their feet on the necks of their enemies. It was reserved for Joshua himself to slay them. The dead bodies were hung aloft, each on its own separate tree, be¬ side the cave, and remained (so it would seem) " un¬ til the evening,” when, at last, that memorable sun " went down.” The cave where they had been hid became the royal sepulchre. The stones which on that self-same day had cut them off from escape, closed the mouth of their tomb ; 4 and the destruction 1 The cave in the Hebrew and in 2 The variations appear in the the LXX. Josh. x. 16, 17. For the LXX. trees see x. 26. 3 Judg. i. 7. 4 See Keil on Josh. x. 27. Lect. XI. ITS IMPORTANCE. 273 of the neighboring town of Makkedah “on that day/’ completed their dreadful obsequies. So ended the day to which, in the words of the ancient sacred song, “ there was no day like, before or after it.” 1 The possession of every place, sacred for them and for all future ages, through the whole centre and south of Palestine, — Shechem, Shiloh, Gibeon, Bethlehem, Hebron, and even for a time, Jerusalem, was the issue of that conflict. “And all these kings “ and their land did Joshua take at one time, because “the Lord God fought for Israel” “And Joshua re¬ turned, and all Israel with him, unto the camp to “ Gilgal.” 2 It is the only incident of this period ex¬ pressly noticed in the later books of the Old Testa¬ ment. “ The Lord shall rise up as in Mount Perazim; “ He shall be wroth as in the valley by Gibeon .” 3 The very day of the week was fixed in later tradi- importance %/ i/ th© tions. With the Samaritans it was Thursday; 4 Battle. 1 This first victory of their race may well have inspirited Judas Mac¬ cabeus, who, himself a native of the neighboring hills, won his earliest fame in the same “ going up and coming down of Beth-horon,” where in like manner “ the residue ” of the defeated army fled into “ the plain,” “ into the land of the Philistines.” And again over the same plain was carried the great Roman road from Caesarea to Jerusalem, up which Ces- tius advanced at the first onset of the Roman armies on the capital of Judaea, and down which he and his whole force were driven by the in¬ surgent Jews. By a singular coin¬ cidence the same scene thus wit¬ nessed the first and the last great victory that crowned the Jewish 35 arms at the interval of nearly fifteen hundred years. From their camp at Gibeon, the Romans, as the Ca- naanites before them, were dislodged; they fled in similar confusion down the ravine to Beth-horon, the steep cliffs and the rugged road rendering cavalry unavailable against the mer¬ ciless fury of their pursuers: they were only saved — as the Canaanites were not saved — by the too rapid descent of the shades of night over the mountains, and under the cover of those shades they escaped to An- tipatris, in the plain below. 2 Josh. x. 28-43. 3 Isa. xxviii. 21. 4 Sam. Joshua , ch. 21, where the news of the victory was brought to Eleazar by a carrier-pigeon. 274 BATTLE OF BETH-HOKON. Lect. XI. with the Mussulmans it was Friday; 1 and this has been given as a reason for that day being chosen as the sacred day of Islam. Immediately upon its close, follows the rapid suc¬ cession of victory and extermination which swept the whole of Southern Palestine into the hands of Israel. It is probable, indeed, from what follows, 2 either that the subjugation and destruction were less complete than this narrative would imply, or that the deeds of Joshua’s companions and successors are here ascribed to himself and to this time. But the concentration of the interest of the conquest on this one event, if not chronologically exact, yet no doubt justly repre¬ sents the feeling that this was the one decisive bat¬ tle, involving all the other consequences in its train. There are two difficulties which have been occa- Difficuities. sioned by this event, or rather by its inter¬ pretation, which have not been without influence on the history of the Christian Church. I. The first has arisen from the words of Joshua, The sun “ Sun ‘ be thou still ’ on Gibeon, and thou, standing still. “ Moon, over the valley of Ajalon: or, as read in the Vulgate, wffiich first gave the offence, “ Sun, move not thou towards Gibeon, nor thou, Moon, “ towards the valley of Ajalon.” These words in the Book of Joshua were doubtless intended to express that in some manner, in answer to Joshua’s earnest prayer, the day was prolonged till the victory was achieved. How, or in what way, we are not told: and if we take the words in the popular and poetical 1 Buckingham’s Travels , p. 302. “ Joshua made war a long time with Jelaleddin, Temple of Jerusalem, 287. “ all those kings .... and at that 2 For example, Hebron and Debir “time came Joshua and cut off the are taken or retaken (Judg. i. 10). “ Anakims from the mountains, from Compare also Josh. xi. 18-21— “ Hebron, from Debir, &c.” Lect. XI. THE ASTRONOMICAL DIFFICULTY. 275 sense in which from their style it is clear that they are used, there is no occasion for inquiry. That some such general sense is what was understood in the ancient Jewish Church itself, is evident from the slight emphasis laid upon the incident by Josephus , 1 and the Samaritan Book of Joshua; and from the ab¬ sence of any subsequent allusion to it (unless, indeed, in a similar poetic strain 2 ) in the Old or New Testa¬ ment. But in later times men were not content with¬ out taking them in their literal, prosaic sense, and supposing that the sun and the moon actually stood still, and that the system of the universe was arrested. It was this interpretation which invested the passage with a new and alarming importance when the Coper- nican system was set forth by Galileo; when it ap¬ peared that the sun, being always stationary, could not be said to stand still or to move. Bound this famous prayer was fought a battle of words in eccle¬ siastical history, hardly less important than the battle of Joshua and the Canaanites. It raged through the lifetime of Galileo; its last direct traces appear in the preface of the Jesuits to their edition of Newton’s Principia , defending themselves for their apparent, but (as they state) only hypothetical, sanction of a theory which, by supposing the earth’s motion, runs counter to the Papal decrees. It continues still in the terrors awakened in many religious minds by the analogous collisions between the letter of Scripture and the ad- 1 Ant. v. 1, § 17. “ He then heard “ that God was helping him, by the “ signs of thunder, lightning, and un- “ usual hailstones; and that the day “ was increased, lest the night should “ check the zeal of the Hebrews. . . . “ That the length of the day did then “ increase, and was longer than usual, “ is told in the books laid up in the “ Temple." The Samaritan book sim¬ ply says, “ that the day was prolonged “ at his prayer" (ch. 20). 2 Hab. iii. 11. 276 BATTLE OF BETH-HORON. Lect. XI vances of science in geology, ethnology, and philol¬ ogy. But, in fact, the victory was won in the per- son of Galileo. Even the Court of Rome has since admitted its mistake. It is now universally acknowl¬ edged that on that occasion “the astronomers were “ right and the theologians were wrong.” The prin¬ ciple was then once for all established, that the Bible was not intended to teach scientific truth. This inci¬ dent in the Sacred narrative has thus, instead of a stumbling-block, became a monument of the recon¬ ciliation of religion and science; and the advance in our knowledge of the Bible since that time has still further tended to diminish the collision which then seemed so frightful, because it has shown us far more clearly than could be seen in former times, that the language employed is not only popular but poeti¬ cal and rhythmical ; 1 and that the attempt to inter¬ pret it scientifically is based on a total misconception of the intention of the words themselves. But, even with the imperfect knowledge of Biblical criticism then possessed, the defence of their position by the two great astronomers sums up the question in terms 1 It is well known that various scientific expedients have been in¬ vented to solve the question. Some have imagined a long-prepared scheme for the arrest of the solar system, and a succession of secret miracles to avoid the consequences of such a universal shock. Others have supposed a re¬ fraction, a parhelion, or a multiplica¬ tion of parhelions. Others have seen in the passage the intimation of a sus¬ pended deluge. To those who may regard any of these explanations as authorized either by reason or Scrip¬ ture, what has here been said will be superfluous. But, if there be any to whom such explanations appear not only improbable in themselves, but contrary to the plain tenor of the Sacred narrative, it may be a satis¬ faction to adopt the statement given above, which is, in fact, the unan¬ imous opinion of all German theo¬ logians of whatever school. The expression, “ the stars in their courses “fought against Sisera” (Judg. v. 20), has never been distorted from its true poetical character, and has, therefore, given rise to no alarms and no speculations. Lect. XI. THE ASTRONOMICAL DIFFICULTY. 277 which not only meet the whole of this case, hut ap¬ ply to any further questions of the kind which may meet us hereafter. Galileo, with the caution which belonged to his char¬ acter and situation, mainly relies on the author- Answer of ity of others. But these were almost the high- Gflhleo - est that he could have named. The first is Baronius, the chief ecclesiastical historian of the Roman Church: " The "intention of Holy Scripture is to show us how to go "to heaven, not to show us how the heaven goeth .” 1 The second was Jerome, the author of the most ven¬ erable translation of the Bible: " Many things are " spoken in Scripture according to the judgment of " those times wherein they were acted, and not ac- " cording to that which truth contained .” 2 Kepler, with that union of courage and piety which marks his whole career, explains the text him- Answer of self. " They will not understand that the only Kepler ' "thing which Joshua prayed for, was that the moun- " tains might not intercept the sun from him. Be- " sides, it had been very unreasonable at that time to "think of astronomy, or of the errors of sight; for if " any one had told him that the sun could not really " move on the valley of Ajalon, but only in relation to " sense, would not Joshua have answered that his de- " sire was that the day might be prolonged, so it were " by any means whatsoever ? ” 3 So far the wise astronomer speaks of the actual his¬ toric incident. But I may be excused for adding the conclusion of his treatise, in words equally profitable to the learned and the unlearned student. "He who is so " stupid as not to comprehend the science of astron- 1 Galileo’s Tract on rash Citations 2 Jerome (Ibid. 448). from Scripture (Salusbury’s Mathe- 3 Kepler’s Tract (Ibid. 463.) matical Tracts , i. 436.) 278 BATTLE OF BETH-HOBON. Lect. XI “ omy, or so weak as to think it an offence of piety “ to adhere to Copernicus, him I advise — that, leav¬ ing the study of astronomy and censuring the opin- “ ions of philosophers at pleasure, he betake himself “ to his own concerns, and that desisting from further “ pursuit of those intricate studies, he keep at home “ and manure his own ground; and with those eyes “ wherewith alone he seeth, being elevated towards this “ much-to-be-admired heaven, let him pour forth his “ whole heart in thanks and praises to God the Cre- “ ator, and assure himself that he shall therein per¬ form as much worship to God as the astronomer on “ whom God hath bestowed this gift, that though he * seeth more clearly with the eye of his understand¬ ing, yet whatever he hath attained to he is both “able and willing to behold his God above it. “ Thus much concerning Scripture. Now as touch- “ ing the authority of the Fathers. Sacred was Lac- “ tantius, who denied the earth’s rotundity: sacred was “Augustine, who admitted the earth to be round but “ denied the antipodes: sacred is the liturgy of our “moderns, who admit the smallness of the earth but “ deny its motion. But to me more sacred than all “ these is — Truth.” 1 II. The second difficulty is that which belongs to the The general question of the extermination of the Ca- ™ a the Cres naanites; but which is brought out so much Canaamtes. more forcibly by the detail of the successive massacres which followed the battle of Beth-horon, that this seems the best place for considering it. There are few who hear the closing scenes of the 10th chapter of the Book of Joshua read without ask¬ ing how such a total extirpation could have been car- 1 Kepler (Salusbury’s Mathematical Tracts , i. 437). Lect. XI. MORAL DIFFICULTY. 279 ried out without the demoralization of those concerned or how any sanction to it could be given in a hook claiming to be, at least, one stage in the Divine rev¬ elations. Many explanations have been given — the denial of the fact, the treatment of the whole as an allegory, the alleged parallels in the promiscuous destruction of human life by earthquake and pestilence. It is believed, however, that most reflecting minds will acquiesce in the general truth of an answer Answer of given long ago by Chrysostom, and founded on tom. the express and fundamental teaching of Christ and his Apostles. He is speaking of the verse in the 139th 1 Psalm, — “I hate them with a perfect hatred,” and wishes to reconcile it with the duty of Christian charity. “Now” he says, “a higher philosophy is required of "us than of them. ... For thus they are ordered to " hate not only impiety, but the persons of the im- " pious, lest * their friendship should be an occasion of " going astray. Therefore he cut off all intercourse, " and freed them on every side.” The difference in this respect between the Old and New dispensation is laid down in the strongest Answer of ■ ° our Lord. manner by our Lord himself. "Ye have heard that it hath been said, An eye for " an eye, and a tooth for a tooth: but I say unto you, " That ye resist not evil: but whosoever shall smite "thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other " also.” 2 " Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt " love thy neighbour, and hate thine enemy. But I say " unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse 1 Chrysost. on 1 Cor. xiii. 2 Matt. v. 38, 39. 280 BATTLE OF BETH-HOKON. Lect. XI “you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for “ them which despitefully use you, and persecute you; “ that ye may he the children of your Father which is “ in heaven: for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil “and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and “ on the unjust.” 1 “ And wdien His disciples James and John saw this, “ they said, Lord, wilt thou that we command fire to “ come down from heaven, and consume them, even as “Elijah did? But He turned, and rebuked them, 2 and “said, Ye know not what manner of spirit ye are of. “For the Son of man is not come to destroy men’s “lives, but to save them” And further, that this inferiority of the Old dispen- Answer of sa ti° n was an acknowledged element in the to 6 t£ pistle “ gradualness and partialness ” of Revelation, Hebrews, inevitably flows from the definition of Reve¬ lation as given by the author of the Epistle to the Hebrews. “ God who at sundry times and in divers “ manners spake in times past to our fathers.” 3 How necessary this accommodation may have been niustra- that rude age, we see from analogous ti° n s. instances in later history. Not only in the ancient world do we read, even approvingly, of like conduct in the Homeric or the early Roman heroes, hut even in Christian times w T e can point to cases in which no shock has been given to the general moral sense by an impulse or command of this destructive character, and in which the general moral character has risen above this particular depression of its hu- maner instincts. I refer not merely to the darker 1 Matt. v. 43-45. But they must represent a very early 2 Luke ix. 54, 55, 56. The last tradition, words are omitted in the best MSS. 3 Heb. i. 1. Lect. XI. THE MORAL DIFFICULTY. 281 periods of Christendom, more nearly resembling the Judaic spirit of the age of Joshua, but even to our own. We have no right to find objections to these portions of the Old Testament, when we acknowledge the same feelings in ourselves or others without repro¬ bation. Two instances may suffice. (1.) In the late Indian mutiny, at the time when the belief in the Sepoy atrocities (since ex-From the 1 J \ Indian ploded) prevailed throughout India, it will be mutiny, in the memory of some that letters were received from India, from conscientious and religious men, con¬ taining phrases to this effect. “ The Book of Joshua is a now being read in church” (in the season when this chapter forms one of the first Lessons of the services of the Church of England). "It expresses exactly " what we are all feeling. I never before understood " the force of that part of the Bible. It is the only " rule for us to follow.” I do not quote this senti¬ ment to approve of it. I quote it to show that what could be felt, even for a moment, by civilized Christendom now, might well be pardoned, or even commended, in Jewish soldiers three thousand years ago. (2.) Oliver Cromwell, in the storming of Drogheda, ordered an almost promiscuous massacre of From the Irish inhabitants. Of the act itself I do massacres It not speak. It is now generally admitted that Urogheda ’ the Puritans attached an undue authority to the de¬ tails of the Jewish Scriptures. But the point to be observed is, that Cromwell’s act has received a high eulogy in our own time from one who, as well by his genius and learning as by his command of the sym¬ pathies of the rising generation, in a great measure represents the most advanced intelligence of our age. 36 282 BATTLE OF BETH-HORON. Lect. XI. “ Oliver’s proceedings here have been the theme of “ much loud criticism, and sibylline execration, into “ which it is not our plan to enter at present. Ter- “ rible surgery this; but is it surgery and judgment, “ or atrocious murder merely ? That is a question “ which should be asked, and answered. Oliver Crom- “ well did believe in God’s judgments; and did not “ believe in the rose-water plan of surgery ; — which, “ in fact, is this editor’s case too ! “ The reader of Cromwell’s Letters, . . . who still “ looks with a recognizing eye on the ways of the “ Supreme Powers with this world, will find here, in “ the rude practical state, a phenomenon which he “ will account noteworthy. An armed soldier, solemnly “ conscious to himself that he is the soldier of God “the Just, — a consciousness which it well beseems “ all soldiers and all men to have always, — armed “ soldier, terrible as Death, relentless as Doom; doing “ God’s judgments on the enemies of God! It is a “ phenomenon not of joyful nature; no, but of aw- “ ful, to be looked at with pious terror and awe.” 1 Finally, whether we justify this or any like applica- The moral tion of Joshua’s example in later times, there remains (as, indeed, is implied in the passage just quoted) one permanent lesson, — the duty of keeping alive in the human heart the sense of burn¬ ing indignation against moral evil, — against selfish¬ ness, against injustice, against untruth, in ourselves as well as in others. That is as much a part of the Christian as of the Jewish dispensation. In this case, the severe curse of the Psalm on which Chrysostom comments is still true. “Do not I hate them that “ hate thee ? yea, I hate them with a perfect hatred, 1 Carlyle’s Cromwell , ii. 453, 454. Lect. XI. MORAL LESSON. 283 " even as though they were mine enemies ” It is im¬ portant to divide between the evil principle and the person in whose mixed character the evil is found. To make such a distinction is one main peculiarity of the Gospel. But it is also important to hate the evil with an undivided and perfect hatred. “ A good hater/’ in this sense, is a character required alike by the Gospel and the Law. And the evil, which, ac¬ cording to the imperfect twilight of those times, was confounded with those in whom it was personified, was one which even at this distance we see to have been of portentous magnitude. It has been well shown that the results of the discipline of the Jew¬ ish nation may be summed up in two points, — a settled national belief in the unity and spirituality of God, and an acknowledgment of the paramount im¬ portance of purity, as a part of morality; and further, that these two ideas are cardinal points in the edu¬ cation of the world. 1 It was these two points espe¬ cially which were endangered by the contact and contamination of the idolatry and the sensuality of the Phoenician tribes. "It is better” — so spoke a theo¬ logian of no fanatical tendency, 2 in a strain, it may be, of excessive, but still of noble indignation — “ it is " better that the wicked should be destroyed a hun- " dred times over than that they should tempt those " who are as yet innocent to join their company. " Let us but think what might have been our fate, " and the fate of every other nation under heaven at " this hour, had the sword of the Israelites done its " work more sparingly. Even as it was, the small " portions of the Canaanites who were left, and the 1 See Dr. Temple’s Essay on the 2 Arnold’s Sermons, vi. 35-37, Education of the World, 11-13. “ Wars of the Israelites.” 284 BATTLE OF BETH-HORON. Lect. XI “nations around them, so tempted the Israelites by “ their idolatrous practices, that we read continually “ of the whole people of God turning away from his “ service. But had the heathen lived in the land in “ equal numbers, and, still more, had they intermar- “ ried largely with the Israelites, how was it possible, “humanly speaking, that any sparks of the light of “ God’s truth should have survived to the coming of “Christ? Would not the Israelites have lost all their “ peculiar character ? and if they had retained the “name of Jehovah as of their God, would they not “have formed as unworthy notions of his attributes, “ and worshipped him with a worship as abominable, “ as that which the Moabites paid to Chemosh, or “ the Philistines to Dagon ? “ But this was not to be, and therefore the nations “ of Canaan were to be cut off utterly. The Israel- “ ites’ sword, in its bloodiest executions, wrought a “ work of mercy for all the countries of the earth to “ the very end of the world. They seem of very “ small importance to us now, those perpetual contests “ with the Canaanites, and the Midianites, and the “ Ammonites, and the Philistines, with which the Books “ of Joshua and Judges and Samuel are almost filled. “We may half wonder that God should have inter¬ fered in such quarrels, or have changed the course “ of nature, in order to give one of the nations of “ Palestine the victory over another. But in these “ contests, on the fate of one of these nations of Pal- “ estine, the happiness of the human race depended. “ The Israelites fought not for themselves only, but “for us. It might follow that they should thus be “ accounted the enemies of all mankind, — it might “be that they were tempted by their very distinct- Lect. XI. THE MORAL LESSON. 285 “ ness to despise other nations ; still they did God’s “ work, — still they preserved unhurt the seed of “ eternal life, and were the ministers of blessing to “ all other nations, even though they themselves failed a . to enjoy it.” 286 THE BATTLE OE MEEOM. Lect. XII. LECTURE XII. THE BATTLE OF MEROM AND SETTLEMENT OF THE TRIBES. The battle of Beth-horon is represented as the most important battle of the Conquest, because, being the first, it struck the decisive blow. But, in all such struggles, there is usually one last effort made for the defeated cause. This, in the subjugation of Canaan, was the battle of Merom. It was a tradition floating in the Gentile world, that at the time of the irruption of Israel, the Canaanites were under the dominion of a single king. 1 This is inconsistent with the number of chiefs who appear in the Book of Joshua. But there was one such, who appears in the final struggle, in conformity with the Phoenician version of the event. High up in the north Hazor. was the fortress of Hazor; and in early times the king who reigned there had been regarded as the head of all the others. 2 He bore the hereditary name of Jabin or “ the Wise,” and his title indicated his supremacy over the whole country, “ the King of Ca¬ naan” 3 Its most probable situation is on one of the rocky heights of the northernmost valley of the Jor¬ dan. The name still lingers in various localities along that region. One of these spots is naturally marked out for a capital by its beauty, its strength, as well 1 Suidas, in voce Canaan. 2 Josh. xi. 10. 3 Judg. iv. 2, 23. Lect. XII. THE BATTLE OF MEROM. 287 as by the indispensable sign of Eastern power and civilization — an inexhaustible source of living water, 1 and there in later times arose the tow r n of Caesarea Philippi, from which, in Jewish tradition, Jabin was sometimes called the King of Caesarea. On the other hand, the place which Hazor holds in the catalogues of the cities of Naphtali 2 points to a situation farther south, and on the western side of the plain. Which¬ ever spot be regarded as the residence of Jabin, it was under his auspices that the final gather- Gathering ing of the Canaanite race came to pass. Round £ f a ^® n it e him were assembled the heads of all the tribes kings- who had not yet fallen under Joshua’s sword. As the British chiefs were driven to the Land’s End before the advance of the Saxon, so at this Land’s End of Palestine were gathered for this last struggle, not only the kings of the north, in the immediate neighbor¬ hood, but from the desert-valley of the Jordan south of the sea of Galilee, from the maritime plain of Phi- listia, from the heights above Sharon, and from the still unconquered Jebus, to the Hivite who dwelt “ in “ the valley of Baalgad under Hermon ; ” all these “ went out, they and all their hosts with them, even “ as the sand that is upon the sea-shore in multitude, “ . . . and when all these kings were met together, “ they came and pitched together at the waters of “ Merom to fight against Israel.” The new and striking feature of this battle, as dis¬ tinct from those of Ai and Gibeon, consisted in the “ horses and chariots very many,” which now for the first time appear in the Canaanite warfare; and it was the use of these which probably fixed the scene of i See Sinai and Palestine, 397. 2 Josh. xix. 35-37; 2 Kings xv. 29. See Robinson, Bibl. Res. iii. 365. 288 THE BATTLE OF MEROM. Lect. XII the encampment by the lake, along whose level shores they could have full play for their force. It was this new phase of war which called forth the special com¬ mand to Joshua, nowhere else recorded : “ Thou shalt “ hough their horses, and burn their chariots with fire.” Nothing is told us of his previous movements. Even the scene of the battle is uncertain. “ The waters of Merom ” have been usually identified with the upper¬ most of the three lakes in the Jordan valley, called by the Greeks “ Samachonitis,” and by the Arabs “ Hu- leh.” Its neighborhood to what under any hypothesis must be the site of Hazor renders this probable. But on the other hand, the expressions both of Josephus and of the Sacred narrative point in a somewhat dif¬ ferent direction; 1 and it is therefore safer to consider it as an open question whether the fight actually took The Battle pl ace on the shores of the lake, or by a spring of Merom. or we q on U p] an( j plain which overhangs it. The suddenness of Joshua’s appearance reminds us of the rapid movement by which he raised the siege of Gibeon. He came, we know not whence or how, within a day’s march on the night before; and then on the morrow, “ dropped ” like a thunderbolt upon them “ in the mountain ” 2 slopes before they had time to rally on the level ground. Now for the first time was brought face to face the infantry of Israel against the cavalry and war-chariots of Canaan. No details of the battle are given — the results alone remain. u The Lord delivered them into the hand of Israel, “who smote them and chased them,” by what passes 1 Josephus, who mentions the Lake 18). The expression “ waters ” (Josh. Samachonitis in Ant. v. 5, 1, omits all xi. 7) is never used elsewhere for a mention of it here, and speaks of the lake, battle as fought at Beeroth (the wells), 2 Josh. xi. 7. (LXX.) near Kadesh Naphtali (Ant. v. 1, § Lect. XII. SETTLEMENT OF THE TRIBES. 289 we know not, westward to the friendly Sidon, and east¬ ward to the plain, wherever it be, of Massoch or Miz- peh. 1 The rout was complete, and the dumb instru¬ ments of Canaanite warfare were here visited with the same extremities which elsewhere we find applied only to the living inhabitants. The chariots were burnt as accursed. The horses, only known as the fierce ani¬ mals of war and bloodshed, 2 and the symbols of foreign dominion, were rendered incapable of any further use. The war was closed with the capture of Hazor. Its king was taken, and, unlike his brethren of the south, who were hanged or crucified, underwent the nobler death of beheading. 3 This city, chief of all those taken in this campaign, was, like Ai, burnt to the ground. 4 II. And now came the apportionment of the terri¬ tory among the tribes, which has made the lat- Settlement ter half of the Book of Joshua the geograph- tribes, ical manual of the Holy Land, the Domesday-Book of the Conquest of Palestine. Two principles have been adopted in the division of land by the conquerors of a new territory — one, specially characteristic of the modern world, and ex¬ emplified in the Norman occupation of England, by which the several chiefs appropriated portions of the newly conquered country, according to their own power or will; the other, specially characteristic of the ancient world, and exemplified in Greece and Rome, where an equal assignment to the different portions of the con¬ quering race took effect by the deliberate act of the 1 Josh. xi. 8. (LXX.) every subsequent mention of it. See 2 This is the first appearance of the “ Horse ” in Dictionary of the Bible . horse in the Jewish history. What 3 Josh. xi. 10. is here said is borne out by almost 4 Ibid. 11. 37 290 SETTLEMENT OF THE TRIBES. Lect. XIL State. Both of these modes were adopted m the ah lotment of land in Palestine; though, as might be ex- pected, the latter principle prevailed. 1 The first of these methods is seen in the predatory Separate expeditions of individuals to occupy particular conquests. S p 0 £ s hitherto unconquered, or to reclaim those, of which the inhabitants had again revolted. Of this kind were apparently the conquests in the Transjor- jairand danic territory, already mentioned, 2 by Jair and Nobah. Another instance, which belongs more properly to the next Lecture, and which was the last Dan. wave of the Israelite migration, is that of the Danite expedition to the north. 3 A third is the attack Attack on °f the Lphraimites on the ancient sanctuary Bethel. 0 f ]3 e tbel. Its capture, briefly told, is a repe¬ tition of the capture of Jericho. The spies go before; a friendly Canaanite encounters them; the town is stormed and sacked; the betrayer of the place escapes, like Rahab; and, like her, has a portion assigned to his inheritance “in the land of the Hittites.” But the Judah. chief instance is in the tribe of Judah. It is in these early adventures that this great tribe first ap¬ pears before us. Its vast prospects are still in the dis¬ tant future, beyond the limits of the period comprised in this volume. Yet to this first appearance of Judah belongs the beginning of the Jewish Church, properly so called. It is by a pardonable anachronism that we extend the word to the whole of the nation. But we must not the less distinctly mark the point when the name of “Judah” or “Jew” first rises above the hori¬ zon, destined to bear in after-years so vast an alter¬ nate burden of honor and of shame. The founder, so Caleb. to speak, of the glories of Judah was not un- 1 See Arnold’s Rome , i. 265. 2 See Lecture IX. 3 See Lecture XIII. Lect. XII. CALEB. 291 worthy of its later fame. Caleb, in the Desert, is hardly known. It may he, as has been conjectured from some of the links in his descent, that, though occupying this exalted place in the tribe of Judah, he obtained it in the first instance by adoption rather than by birth. He is said to “have his part and his inheritance among “ the children of Judah,” not as by right but “ because “he wholly followed Jehovah the God of Israel.” 1 And the names of Kenaz, Shobal, Hezron, Jephunneh, amongst his forefathers or his progeny, all point to an Idumean, rather than an Israelite origin. 2 If so, we have a breadth given to the name of Judah, even from its very first start, such as we have already noticed in the case of Abraham. But, Israelite or proselyte, he was the one tried companion of Joshua, and his claims rested on a yet earlier and greater sanction, that of Moses himself. He was to have a portion of the land, on which “ his feet had trodden.” 3 The spot, on which Caleb had set his heart, was the fertile valley of Hebron. Of all the country Hebron, which the twelve spies, with Joshua and Caleb at their head, had traversed, this is the one scene which remains fixed in the sacred narrative, as if because fixed in the memory of those who made their report. There was the one field in the whole land which they might fairly call their own, — the field which contained the rocky cave of Machpelah, with the graves of their first ancestors. But it was not even this sacred enclos¬ ure which had most powerfully impressed the simple explorers of that childlike age. It was the winding valley, whose terraces were covered with the rich verd- 1 Josh. xiv. 9-14 ; xv. 13. on “ Caleb” in Dictionary of the Bible, 8 See Lord Arthur Hervey’s article and Ewald, i. 338. 3 Joshua xiv. 9. 292 SETTLEMENT OF THE TRIBES. Lect. XIL ure and the golden clusters of the Syrian vine, so rarely seen in Egypt, so beautiful a vesture of the bare hills of Palestine. In its rocky hills are still to be seen hewn the ancient wine-presses. Thence came the gigantic cluster, 3 the one relic of the Promised Land, which was laid at the feet of Moses. Thither, now that he found himself within that land, Caleb was resolved to return. In that valley of vineyards — in that primeval seat, as it was supposed, of the vine itself — “ by the choice vine, Judah was to bind his “ foal; he was to wash his garments in wine, his clothes “ in the blood of grapes.” This was the prize for Caleb. This he claimed from Joshua. But he was to win it for himself, and it was no easy task. It was the main fastness of the aboriginal inhabitants of the South. Even, as it might seem, after the Canaanites had fled, the chiefs of the older race still lingered there. It was the city of u the Four Giants ” — Anak and his three gigantic sons. Within its walls the Last of the Anakim held out against the conquerors. But thrice over the old w T arrior of Judah insists on his unbroken “ strength.” A pitched battle takes place outside the walls; 2 he drives them out; and Kirjath-Arba, with all its ancient recollections, becomes ee Hebron,” the centre of the mighty tribe, which was there to take up its chief abode. Far and wide his name extended, and, alone of all the conquerors on the west of the Jordan, he succeeded in identifying it with the territory which he had won. 3 But this was but the nucleus of a circle of the like spirit of adventure, radiating from this centre. South of Hebron lay a sacred oracular place, as it would seem, “ The oracle,” u the city of books,” 1 Num. xiii. 22-24. 2 Judg. i. 10 : “ And Hebron came 3 1 Sam. xxv. 3; xxx. 14. “ forth against Judah.” (LXX.) Lect. XII. KIRJATH-SEPHER. 293 Debir, 1 Kirjath-sepher. On this too Caleb fixed his heart; and announced that his daughter Ach- Kirjath _ sah should be the reward of the successful sepher ’ assailant. From his own family sprang forth the cham¬ pion, his nephew or his younger brother Othniel, who won the ancient fortress. And yet again from the same family another claim was put forth. Achsah, worthy of her father and her husband, demands some better heritage than the dry and thirsty frontier of the desert. Underneath the hill on which Debir stood is a deep valley, rich with verdure, from a copious rivulet, which, rising at the crest of the glen, falls, with a continuity unusual in the Judsean hills, down to its lowest depth. On the possession of these upper and lower a bub- blings,” so contiguous to her lover’s prize, Achsah had set her heart. The shyness of the bridegroom to ask, the eagerness of the bride to have, are both put be¬ fore us. She comes to Othniel’s house, seated on her ass, led by her father. She will not enter. According to our Version, she gently descends from her ass: ac¬ cording to the Septuagint, she screams, or she murmurs, from her seat. Her father asks the cause, and then she demands and wins “ the blessing ” of the green valley ; the gushing stream from top to bottom, which made the dry and barren hill above a rich possession. 2 1 Like Byblos afterwards. See Ew- ald, i. 286. 2 Josh. xv. 18; Judg. i. 14. In the former passage, the LXX. makes Ach- sah (as in the E. V.) the moving cause ; in the latter, Othniel. In both, Achsah is represented, not as colonists from Sidon in the rich and beautiful seclu¬ sion of that loveliest of the scenes of Palestine. It is the exact likeness of the Frankish or Norman migra¬ tions, reopening the path of conquest and discovery, when it had seemed all closed and ended with the final settlement of Europe. And still more character¬ istic is the incident which is interwoven with their expedition, and which opens another vista into the mingled superstition and religion which swayed the feelings of the time. We are introduced to the house of Micah, on the ridge of the hills of Ephraim; we hear the frank disclosure of Micah to his mother, how 1 This arrangement is actually adopted by Josephus {Ant. v. 2, §§8-12; ».§!)• 328 ISRAEL UNDER THE JUDGES. Lect. XIII, he was the thief who had carried off her shekels — and we see the mother’s grateful dedication of her re¬ stored property. Their isolation from the central wor¬ ship of Palestine soon manifests itself. The house becomes a castle; and not only a castle, but a temple. The Sane- ^ik e fh e sanctuary of Shiloh itself, it stands tuary. i n a cour t ; entered by a spacious gateway. Pound about it gather houses of those who take a common interest in this worship, and a caravansary for strangers. Within is a chamber, called “ the House of God,” and in this chamber are two silver images, one sculptured, one molten, clothed in a mask and priestly mantle, 1 so as to represent as nearly as possi¬ ble the Priestly Oracle at Shiloh. And when we in¬ quire further into the worship of this little sanctuary, still stranger scenes disclose themselves. The five Danite warriors, as they pass by, and lodge in the car¬ avansary, are arrested by the sound of a well-known voice. It is the voice of a Levite of Bethlehem, whom they had known whilst in their southern settlement. They ask him, “ Who brought thee hither ? and what u makest thou in this place ? and what hast thou here ? ” They ask him, and we, with our precise notions of Le- vitical ritual, may well ask him too. He tells his own wild story. He, like them, had been a wanderer for a better home than he found in the little village of Bethlehem. He, like them, had halted by the house of Micah, on the ridge of Ephraim; and the supersti¬ tion of Micah and the interest of the Levite combined. The one, like many a feudal noble, was eager to se- 1 Judg. xvii. 4. Of these two im¬ ages, one (apparently as large as a man, 1 Sam. xix. 16), from its mask, was called Teraphim , from its mantle Ephod. Such images were used as oracles, Zech. x. 2, and as appurte¬ nances of public worship, Hos. iii. 4 , and the custom was finally put down by Josiah, 2 Kings xxiii. 24. (See Ewald, Alterth. 256-8). Lect. XIII. THE STORY OF MICAH. 329 cure the services and sanction of a regular chaplain for his new establishment. The other, like many a feu¬ dal priest, was willing to secure “ ten shekels of silver “ by the year, and a suit of apparel, and his victuals.” So the Levite went in, and “ was content to dwell with the man,” was unto him as one of his sons; and Mi- cah consecrated the Levite, and the young man be¬ came his priest, and occupied one of the dwellings by the house of Micah. 1 Then said Micah, “ Now know I “ that the Lord will do me good, seeing I have a Le- “ vite to my priest ” But as the story unravels itself, still further does it lead us into the manners and the spirit of the time. The same feelings which had prompted Micah to secure the wandering treasure, were shared by the Danite warriors, who had recognized in him their old acquaintance. They had received his blessing on their enterprise as they passed by on their first expedition. They suggested to their countrymen, on their advance to accomplish their design, that here was the religious sanction which alone they needed to render it success¬ ful. “Do ye know,” they said as they ap- The theft proached the well-known cluster of houses on relics, the hill-side — “ Do ye know that there is in these “ houses an ephod, and teraphim, and a graven image, “ and a molten image ? Now therefore consider what “ ye have to do.” In the centre of the settlement rose the house of Micah, and at its gateway was the dwell¬ ing of the Levite. By the gateway the six hundred armed warriors stood conversing with their ancient leighbor, whilst the five men stole up the rocky court, and into the little chapel, and fetched away the im¬ ages with teraphim and ephod ; and, long before they 1 Judg. xviii. 15. 42 330 ISRAEL UNDER THE JUDGES. Lect. XHI were discovered, were far along their northern route. The priest has raised his voice against the theft for a moment. “ What do ye ? ” But there is a ready bribe. “ Hold thy peace, lay thine hand upon thy mouth, and “ go with us ; and he to us a father and a priest: is it “ better for thee to be a priest unto the house of one “ man, or that thou become a priest unto a tribe and “ family in Israel ? ” 1 “ Hold thy peace, lay thine hand upon thy mouth,” —so almost in the same words was the like bribe offered by one of the greatest religious houses of England to the monk who guarded the shrine of one of the most sacred relics in the adjacent cathedral of Canterbury. — “ Give us the portion of S. Thomas’s skull which is “ in thy custody, and thou shalt cease to he a simple “ monk ; thou shalt be Abbot of S. Augustine’s.” 2 As Roger accepted the bait in the twelfth century after the Christian era, so did the Levite of Micah’s house in the fifteenth century before it. “And the priest’s “ heart was glad, and he took the ephod, and the tera- “ phim, and the graven image, and went in the midst “ of the people.” The theft was so adroitly managed, that the soldiers were far away before Micah and his neighbors overtook them, and uttered a wail of grief and rage. The whole neighborhood had a common interest in the sanctuary; and Micah, in particu¬ lar, felt that his importance was gone. “Ye have “ taken away my gods which I made, and the priest, “ and ye are gone away; and what have I more ? ” But they are too strong for him, and they advance to the easy conquest which gives them their new home. In the biography of this one Levite, thus acciden- 1 Judg. xviii. 14-19. 2 Thorne’s Chronicle, 1176. Lect. XIII. STORY OF THE LEVITE OF BETHLEHEM. 331 tally, as it were, brought to view, we have a sample of the darker side of his tribe, as brought The Sanc- out in the curse of Jacob, — “ I will divide Dan. ‘ “ them in Jacob and scatter them in Israel,” — lending himself to the highest bidder, to Micah first for ten shekels a year and food and clothing, to the Danites afterwards, that he might become a Priest of a tribe and family in Israel rather than to the house of one man. He had his reward; he became a Father and Patriarch to the new commonwealth. Under his aus¬ pices on the green hill by the sources of the Jordan a new sanctuary was established; the graven image remained there undisturbed during the whole period of the Judges, 66 all the time that the House of God “ was in Shiloh; ” and he and his sons founded a long line of Priests, for the same period, “ Priests to the “ tribe of Dan until the day 1 of the captivity of the “ land.” And who was this stranger Levite ? this founder of a schismatical worship ? Was he of some obscure family, that might be thought to have escaped the higher influences of the age ? So from the larger part of the narrative, so from the dexterous alteration of the text by later copyists in the one passage which reveals the secret, it might have been inferred. But that one passage, according to the reading of several Hebrew manuscripts, and of the Vulgate, and according to an ancient Jewish tradition, and to the almost cer¬ tain conjecture both of Kennicott and of Ewald, tells us who he was: — “ Jonathan, the son of Gershom,— the son ” — not, as we now read, of Manasseh, 2 The grand- but “ of Moses.” Whether it was from the Moses. 1 Judg. xviii. 30, 31. For these is, in the Hebrew text, by the inser- expressions, see Lecture XVII. tion of a single letter, turned into Ma- 2 Judg. xviii. 30. The word Moseh nasseh. In 1 Chron. xxiii. 15, 16, 332 ISRAEL UNDER THE JUDGES. Lect. XIII. general laxity of the time, or from the obscurity which throughout envelops the family of the great lawgiver, there can be little doubt that this type of the wander¬ ing, ambitious, lawless Priest of this and so many after¬ ages, was no less than £he grandson of the Prophet Moses. What Jewish copyists have done here by endeavoring to change the honored name of Moses into the hated name of Manasseh, is what has been often attempted in the later history of the church, by endeavoring to conceal, or to palliate, the excesses or errors or irregularities of the inferior successors of noble predecessors. Let the story of the grandson of Moses be at once an illustration of the fact, and a warning to us not to make too much of it. A profli¬ gate and heretical Pope in a profligate or heretical age, a turbulent or timeserving Reformer in a turbu¬ lent or timeserving age, are not of such importance for the succeeding or preceding history, as that we should be very eager either to conceal or to affirm the fact of their existence. Each age has its own er¬ rors and sins to bear. Jonathan the son of Gershom, and the long succession of the priesthood which he transmitted, are indeed illustrative of the time to which they belonged, are exact likenesses of what has occurred again and again in like confusions of the Christian Church, — but prove nothing beyond themselves, and need not either be kept out of sight, on the one hand, or made into standing arguments, on the other hand, against the Church which, for the time, they repre¬ sented. 2. No less characteristic of the good and evil of the occurs Shebuel , son of Gershom, son Diet, of Bible, “ Jonathan,” “ Manas- of Moses. — Jerome ( Qu . Heb. ad V) seh.”) says that lie was Micah’s Levite. (See Lect. XIII. THE WAR OF BENJAMIN. 333 period is the story of the war of the eleven tribes against their brother Benjamin for the outrage The story committed by the inhabitants of Gibeah. Here, $ B e e n 7 ar again, is a roving Levite of irregular life. j amm ' Every step of his journey shows us a glimpse of the state of the country. His father-in-law entertains him with true Arabian hospitality, day after day, night af¬ ter night. Amidst the shadows of the evening, “ when 66 the day is far spent,” we see the towers of “ Jehus u which is Jerusalem,” still in the hands of the Ca- naanites. The apprehension of the travellers as they find themselves overtaken by darkness is exactly that which still attends the fall of night in any country where the unsettled state of the government makes itself felt in robbers and outlaws. Outside the town of Gibeah, in the open space beneath the walls, on what in the “ Arabian Nights ” are so often called “ the mounds,” the little band encamps. Then comes the aged countryman from the fields, and the dark crime which follows, and the ferocious summons of the whole people to vengeance by the signal of the di¬ vided bones of the outraged woman. 1 Both the atro¬ city and the indignation which it excites belong alike to the primitive stage of a people, when, as the his¬ torian observes, tanto acrior apad majores id virtutibus gloria , ita flagitiis poenitentia. There is nothing in later times like the original outrage. But neither is there anything in later times like the universal burst of hor- 1 Judg. xix. 29. A like summons is issued within this same period, 1 Sam. xi. 7. A similar incident is said to have occurred recently in the tribes near Damascus. An Arab woman having been accused of unchastity by another, was killed by her father, who then tore her body open in the pres¬ ence of the tribe, and found that she was innocent. The slanderer was then judged. Her tongue was cut out, and she was hewn into small pieces, which were sent all over the desert. 334 ISRAEL UNDER THE JUDGES. Lect. XIH. ror. “ We will not any of us go to his tent, neither “ will we any of us turn into his house; but now this “ shall be the thing which we will do unto Gibeah . “. . according to the folly that they have wrought “ in Israel. So all the men of Israel were gathered “ together against the city, knit together as one man/’ There are many wars in Israel after this, civil and foreign, but none breathing so ardent a spirit of zeal, excessive, extravagant zeal it may be, against moral evil. As in the former story, so here, we meet with one who had known the old generation. As before it was the grandson of Moses, so here it is the grandson Phinehas. of Aaron. But Phinehas the son of Eleazar was made of sterner and better stuff than Jonathan the son of Gershom. He was “ before the Ark in those days,” and in the fierce, unyielding, yet righteous desire for vengeance which animated the whole peo¬ ple, we seem to see the same spirit which appeared when, in the matter of Baal-Peor, “ Phinehas arose and “executed judgment, and that was counted unto him “ for righteousness among all generations for ever- “ more; ” “ because he was zealous for his God, and “brought an atonement for the children of Israel.” And the sudden change of feeling, no less primitive and natural, the return of compassion towards the remnant of the Benjamites, is still in accordance with the only other trait which we know of the character of the aged Priest. They wept sore and said, “ 0 Lord “ God of Israel, why is this come to pass in Israel that “ there should be to-day one tribe lacking in Israel ? “And the children of Israel repented them for Ben¬ jamin their brother.” Even so, when for the fancied offence of the Transjordanic tribes, the rest of the na¬ tion with Phinehas at their head had set off to exter- Lect. XIII. THE WAR OF BENJAMIN. 335 minate them, the same tender brotherly feeling revived, when the same Phinehas heard and accepted the ex¬ planation of the act. It is the same union of a wild sense of justice and religion, combined with a keen sense of national and family union, such as marks an early age, and an early age only. In the later dis¬ sensions of the nation, we find no such hasty vows, no such measures of sudden and total destruction. But neither do we find such ready and eager forgiveness, such frank acknowledgment of error. The early feuds of nations and churches are more violent, but they are often less inveterate and malignant than the sectarian¬ ism and party-spirit of later years. The one is a fit¬ ful frenzy, the other is a chronic disorder. Doubtless there was something fierce and terrible in the oracles of the ancient Phinehas, Priest and Warrior in one; but he was in the end a milder counsellor than the High Priest who, in the latest days of the nation, in all the fulness of civilization and of statesmanship, gave his counsel that “ it was expedient that one man should die for the people, that the whole nation perish not” The details of the story agree with its general char¬ acter. The resolute determination of the Benjamites not to give up the guilty city is a trait of the bond of honor and of clanship which, in an early age, out¬ weighs the ties of country and public interests. We catch here, too, the first glimpse of the romantic, and, as it were, secret alliance between Jabesh-gilead and Benjamin. Hence their absence from the fatal mas¬ sacre ; hence the chase of their maidens for the future wives of Benjamin; hence, in a later generation, their application for help to the great chief of the Benja- mite tribe; hence their fidelity to him after defeat 336 ISRAEL UNDER THE JUDGES. Lect. XIII. and death. 1 The remnant of the tribe, intrenched on the cliff of “ the Pomegranate,” 2 reveals to us the fierce daring of the time. The dances in the vineyards of Shiloh reveal to us its simplicity and tenderness. 3. Thirdly, the story of Ruth (in the ancient edi- The story tions of the Hebrew Scriptures always joined in the Book of Judges) reveals to us a scene as primitive in its simple repose as the others are in their violence and disorder. 3 It is one of those quiet corners of history which are the green spots of all time, and which appear to become greener and greener as they recede into the distance. Bethlehem is the starting-point of this story, as of the two which pre¬ ceded, but now under different auspices. We see amidst the cornfields, whence it derives its name, “ the House of Bread,” the beautiful stranger gleaning the ears of corn after the reapers. 4 We hear the ex¬ change of salutations between the reapers and their master; “Jehovah be with you,” “Jehovah bless thee.” 5 We are present at the details of the ancient custom, which the author of the book describes almost with the fond regret of modern antiquarianism, as one which was “the manner of Israel in former times,” — the symbolical transference of the rights of kinsman- ship by drawing off the sandal. 6 We have the first record of a solemn nuptial benediction; with the first direct allusion to the ancient patriarchal traditions of Rachel and Leah, 7 of Judah and Tamar. And whilst 1 Judg. xxi. 9-14 ; 1 Sam. xi. 4 ; xxxi. 11, 12. 2 Rimmon; Judg. xx. 47. 3 It is useless (with so few data) to attempt to fix the exact time of the events related in the Book of Ruth. Its general character, how¬ ever, agrees with the seclusion of the tribe of Judah throughout this period. 4 Ruth ii. 2. 5 Ibid. ii. 4. 6 Ibid. iv. 7. 7 Ibid. iv. 11, 12. Lect. XIII. THE STORY OF RUTH. 337 these touches send us back, as in the two dark stories which precede this tranquil episode, to the earlier stage of Israelite existence, there is in this the first germ of the future hope of the nation. The book of Ruth is, indeed, the link of connection between the old and the new. There was rejoicing over the birth of the child at Bethlehem which Ruth bare to Boaz: u and “ Naomi took the child and laid it in her bosom, and “ became nurse to it.” 1 It would seem as if there was already a kind of joyous foretaste of the birth and infancy which, in after-times, was to be forever associated with the name of Bethlehem. It was the first appearance on the scene of what may by antici¬ pation be called even then the Holy Family, for that child w r as Obed, the father of Jesse, the father of David. Nor is it a mere genealogical connection be¬ tween the two generations. The very license and in¬ dependence of the age may be said to have been the means of introducing into the ancestry of David and of the Messiah an element which else would have been, humanly speaking, impossible. “ An Ammonite “ or a Moabite shall not enter into the congregation.” 2 This was the letter of the law, and in the greater strictness that prevailed after the return from the captivity, it was rigidly enforced. But in the isolation of Judah from the rest of Israel, in the doing of every man what was right in his own eyes, the more comprehensive spirit of the whole religion overstepped the letter of a particular enactment. The story of Ruth has shed a peaceful light over what else would be the accursed race of Moab. We strain our gaze to know something of the long line of the purple hills of Moab, which form the background at once of 1 Ruth iv. 16. 2 Deut. xxiii. 3 ; Ezra ix. 1; Neh. xiii. 1. 43 338 ISRAEL UNDER THE JUDGES. Lect. XIIL the history and of the geography of Palestine. It is a satisfaction to feel that there is one tender associa¬ tion which unites them with the familiar history and scenery of Judsea, — that from their recesses, across the deep gulf which separates the two regions, came the gentle ancestress of David and of the Messiah. V. “And now” (if I may venture for a moment to use the language of the sacred book 1 which in the New Testament has thrown itself with the greatest ar¬ dor and sympathy into this troubled period), “ what “ shall I more say ? for the time would fail me to tell “ of Gideon and of Barak, and of Samson and of Jeph- “ thah.” Deserving the details, let me say thus much by Mixed char- way of prelude to all these characters. I have acters of ^ ^ the period, dwelt on the unsettled, transitory, unequal state of the time in which they lived, because only in the light of that time can they be fairly considered. Mixed characters they are, as almost all the charac¬ ters in Scripture are — but in them the ingredients are mixed more closely, more strongly than in any others, in proportion to the mixed character of the period which produced them. It is this which gives to the narrative of the Book of Judges its peculiar charm. And, although as I have said, it stands, by its own confession, on a lower moral level than other portions of the Sacred record, although it portrays a time when “ every man did what was right in his “ own eyes,” and when “ the children of Israel did 66 that which was evil in the sight of the Lord,” yet there is in this very circumstance a lesson which we should sorely miss if it were lost to us. It represents a period of ecclesiastical history, with all the check- 1 Heb. xi. 32. Lect. XIII. ITS MIXED CHARACTERS. 339 ered colors of real life. It gives a play to those nat¬ ural qualities which, though not strictly religious, are yet too noble, too lively, too attractive, to be over¬ looked in any true, and therefore (in the highest sense) any religious view of the world. We cannot pretend to say that Samson and Jephthah, hardly that Gideon or Barak, are characters which we should have selected as devout men, as servants of God. We should, at least if we had met with them in another history, have regarded them as wild freebooters, as stern chieftains, at best as high-minded patriots. They are bursting with passion, they are stained by revenge, they are alternately lax and superstitious. Their vir¬ tues are of the rough kind, which make them sub¬ jects of personal or poetic interest rather than of sober edification ; their words are remarkable, not so much for devotion or wisdom, as for a burning en¬ thusiasm, like the song of Deborah; for a chivalrous frankness, as in the acts of Phinehas and of Jephthah; for a ready presence of mind, as in the movements of Gideon; for a primitive and racy humor, as in the repartees of Samson. Yet these characters are with¬ out hesitation ranked amongst the lights of the Chosen People: the world’s heroes are fearlessly enrolled amongst God’s heroes; the men in whom we should be inclined to recognize only the strong arm which defends us, and the rough wit which amuses us,— are described as “ raised up by God.” No modern theory of “ inspiration ” checks the sacred writers in speaking of “ the Spirit of the Lord ” as “ clothing ” Gideon 1 as with a mantle for his enterprise, as 66 de¬ scending” 2 upon Othniel and Jephthah for their wars, as “ striking ” the soul of Samson like a bell or drum, 3 1 Judg. vi. 34 (Hebrew). 3 Judg. xiii. 25 (Hebrew). 2 Ibid. iii. 10; xi. 29. 340 ISRAEL UNDER THE JUDGES. Lect. XIII or as “ rushing ” upon him with irresistible force for his heroic deeds. 1 In a lower degree, doubtless, and mingled with many infirmities, the wild chiefs of this stormy epoch, with their Phoenician titles, their Bed¬ ouin lives, and their “ muscular ” religion, partook of the same Spirit which inspired Moses and Joshua be¬ fore them, and David and Isaiah after them. The imperfection of their characters, the disorder of their times, set forth the more clearly the one redeeming element of trust in God that lurked in each of them, and, through them, kept alive the national existence. “ By faith ,” as the author of the Epistle to the He¬ brews is not afraid to say, they, too, in their uncon¬ scious energy “ subdued kingdoms .... obtained “promises, stopped the mouths of lions .... es- “ caped the edge of the sword, out of weakness were “ made strong, waxed valiant in fight, turned to flight “ the armies of the aliens.” Such an acknowledgment of these characters is a double boon. Nothing should be lamented, nothing should be despised, which brings within the range of our religious sympathy, within the sanction of Reve¬ lation, qualities and incidents which in common life we cannot help admiring, which history and common sense command us to admire, but which yet, from our narrow construction of God’s Providence, we are afraid to recognize in our theological or ecclesiastical systems. We gain by being made at one with ourselves: Scrip¬ ture gains by being made at one with us. Had the history of the Chosen People been framed on the principle of many a later history of the Church, who can doubt that these inestimable touches of human life and character would have been altogether lost to 1 Judg. xiv. 6; xv. 14. Lect. XIII. ITS CLASSICAL ELEMENT. 34i us ? How would Samson have fared with Milner ? to what would Deborah have been reduced in the refined speculations of Neander ? And there is a yet further affinity between us and them, which the Sacred history impresses upon The classi _ us. Is it not the case that, in this period, we f^the his- 1 see for the first time, and more distinctly than tory * elsewhere, that approximation which is developed, ir¬ regularly, obscurely, but still perceptibly, as time goes on, between some elements of the Hebrew character and those of the western and European world ? It is a matter which must be stated carefully and cautiously, lest we seem to encourage the extravagant theories which, on the right hand and on the left, have beset every such view of the question. But the very fact of such theories having arisen implies a common ground, which is really a matter of solid interest and instruction. Few, if any, will now maintain the hy¬ pothesis of our old divines of the last century, that the stories of Iphigenia and Idomeneus are stolen from the story of Jephthah’s daughter, or the labors of Hercules from the labors of Samson ; few, if any, will now main¬ tain, with some Germans of the last generation, the reverse hypothesis that Samson and Jephthah are mere copies of Hercules and Agamemnon. But the resemblance between the two sets of incidents is an undoubted indication that there was something in the Hebrew race which did more readily produce incidents and characters, if we may use the expression, of a classical, western, Grecian type, than we find in any other branch of the Semitic, we might almost add, of the Oriental world. It is a likeness, which, as I have said, goes on increasing from this time forward. It is as if, from the moment that the tribes of Israel 342 ISRAEL UNDER THE JUDGES. Lect. XIII caught sight of the Mediterranean waters, — of the ships of Chittim, — of the isles of the sea, — the spirit of the West began to be mingled with the spirit of their native East, and they began to assume that position in the world which none have occupied except the inhabitants of Palestine, — links between Asia and Europe, between Shem and Japhet, be¬ tween the immovable repose of the Oriental, and the endless activity and freedom of the Occidental world. We may, as we read the story of the Judges, feel that the sacred characters are gradually drawing nearer to us, flesh of our flesh, and bone of our bone. The figures of speech which they use are familiar to us in the imagery of our own West. In the parable of Jotham — the earliest known fable — we fall upon the first instance of that peculiar kind of composition, in which the Eastern and Western imagination coin¬ cide. The fables of iEsop are alike Grecian and Indian. The fable of Jotham might, as far as its spirit goes, have been spoken in the market-place of Athens or of Pome as appropriately as on the height of Gerizim. Of the classical elements in the stories of Jephthah and Samson we shall have to speak in detail. In the case of Samson especially, the classical tendency has been put to the severest conceivable test, for it has been chosen by the most classical of all English poets as the framework of a drama, which, even after all that has been done since in our own day for fin¬ ished imitations of the Grecian style, with Grecian scenery and Grecian mythology for their basis, must yet be considered the most perfect likeness of an ancient tragedy that modern literature has pro¬ duced. Lect. XIII. ANALOGY TO THE MIDDLE AGES. 343 YI. Finally, there is, perhaps, no period of the Jew¬ ish history which so directly illustrates a cor- Analogy of i • • j p • j* i • i Tl* period responding period oi Christian history. It is, to the no doubt, a grave error, both in taste and in Ages, religion, to institute a too close comparison between sacred history and common history. There is a bar¬ rier between them which, with all their points of resemblance, cannot he overleaped. But we are ex¬ pressly told that the things which “ were written 66 aforetime ” “ happened to them for ensamples,” that they were “ written for our admonition, upon whom “ the ends of the world are come.” If so, we cannot safely decline to recognize the undoubted likenesses of ourselves and of our forefathers which those ex¬ amples contain. And, in this case, I know not where we shall find a better guide to conduct us, with a judgment at once just and tender, through the med¬ iaeval portion of Christian ecclesiastical history, than the sacred record of the corresponding period of the history of the Judges. The knowledge of each period reacts upon our knowledge of the other. The diffi¬ culties of each mutually explain the other. We can¬ not be in a better position for defending mediaeval Christianity against the indiscriminate attacks of one¬ sided Puritanical writers, than by pointing to its coun¬ terpart in the Sacred record. We cannot wish for a better proof of the general truth and fidelity of this part of the Biblical narrative, than by observing its exact accordance with the manners and feelings of Christendom under analogous circumstances. We need only claim for the doubtful acts of Jephthah and of Jael the same verdict -that philosophical historians have pronounced on the like actions of Popes and Crusaders, — a judgment to be measured not by our 344 THE PERIOD OF THE JUDGES. Lect. XIIL age, but by theirs, not by the light of full Christian civilization, but by the license of a time when “ every “ man did what was right in his own eyes,”— and when the maxim of them of old time still prevailed over every other consideration, — “ Thou shalt love “ thy neighbor, and hate thine enemy” We need only claim for the Middle Ages the same favorable hearing which religious men of all persuasions are willing to extend to the Judges of Israel. The difficulty which uneducated or half-educated classes of men find in rightly judging, or even rightly conceiving, of a state of morals and religion different from their own, is one of the main obstacles to a general diffusion of com¬ prehensive and tolerant views of past history. What we want is some common ground, on which the poor and unlearned can witness the application of such views no less than the highly cultivated. Such a ground is furnished by many parts of the sacred nar¬ rative ; but by none so much as the Book of Judges. If we urge that the Middle Ages must be judged by an¬ other standard than our own; that the excesses which are now universallv condemned were then united with 1/ high and noble aspirations; to half the world we shall be saying words without meaning. But if we can show that the very same variation of judgment is al¬ lowed and enforced in the sacred and familiar instance of the Judges, we shall, at any rate, have a chance of being heard. Here, as elsewhere, the Bible will dis¬ charge its proper function of being the one book of all classes, — the one history and literature in which rich and poor can meet together and understand each other. These resemblances between the mediaeval history of the Jewish Church and the mediaeval history of the Christian Church are seen at every turn, and Lect. XIII. ANALOGY TO THE MIDDLE AGES. 345 perhaps more felt than seen. Take any scene, almost at random, from this period; and, but for the names and Eastern coloring, it might be from the tenth or twelfth century. The house of Micah and his Levite set forth the exact likeness of the feudal castle and feudal chieftain of our early civilization. The Danites, ' eager to secure to their enterprise the sanction of a sacred personage and of sacred images, are the fore¬ runners of that strange mixture of faith and super¬ stition, which prompted in the Middle Ages so many pious thefts of relics, so many extortions of unwilling benedictions. The Levite bribed by the promise of a higher office is, as we have already observed, the likeness of the faithless guardian of a venerated shrine tempted by the vacant Abbacy in some neighboring monastery to betray the sacred treasure committed to him. In Micah and his armed men pursuing their lost teraphim, and repulsed with rough taunts by the stronger band, we read the victory obtained by the suc¬ cessful relic-stealers over their less ready or less pow¬ erful rivals. The whole story of the Benjamite war has been introduced as a mediaeval tale into a cele¬ brated historical romance, 1 perhaps with questionable propriety, but in such exact conformity to the cos¬ tume and fashion of the time, as to furnish of itself a proof of the graphic faithfulness of the sacred nar¬ rative, which could lend itself so readily to the meta¬ morphosis. The summons of the tribes by the bones of the murdered victim, and of the slaughtered ani¬ mal, is the same as the summons of the Highland clans by the fiery cross dipped in blood. The vows of monastic life, the vows of celibacy, the vows of pilgrimage, which exercise so large an influence over 1 See Scott’s Ivanhoe , c. xv. 44 346 THE PERIOD OF THE JUDGES. Lect. XIII mediaeval life, have their prototypes in the vows ah ready noticed in the early struggles of Israel — the same excuses, the same evils, and many of the same advantages. The insecurity of communication — the danger of violence by night — is the same in both periods. The very roads fall, if one may so say, into the same track. “The highways become unoccupied, and the travellers,” alike in Judaea and in England, “ walk along the by-ways,” 1 under the skirt of the hills and through the dark lanes which may screen them from notice. We are struck at Ascalon and in the plains of Philistia by finding the localities equally connected with the history of Richard Coeur-de-Lion and of Samson; but they are, in fact, united by moral and historical, far more than by any mere local, coin¬ cidences. In both ages there is the same long cru¬ sade against the unbelievers. The Moors in Spain, the Tartars in Russia, play the very same part as the Canaanites and Philistines in Palestine. The caves of Palestine furnish the same refuge as the caves of As¬ turias. Priests anti Levites wander to and fro over Palestine: mendicant friars and sellers of indulgences over Europe. Hophni and Phinehas become at Shiloh the prototypes of the bloated pluralists of the Mediae¬ val Church of Europe. “In those days there was no king in Israel,” there was no settled government in Christendom, — all things were as yet in chaos and confusion. Yet the germs of a better life were everywhere at work. In the one, the Judge, as we have seen was gradually blending into the hereditary King. In the other, the feudal chief was gradually passing into the constitutional sovereign. The youth of Samuel, the childhood of David, were nursed under 1 Judg. v. 6. i Lect. XIII. ANALOGY TO THE MIDDLE AGES. 347 this wild system. The schools of the prophets, the universities of Christendom, owe their first impulse to this first period of Jewish and of Christian History. The age of the Psalmists and Prophets was an im¬ mense advance upon the age of the Judges. Yet Psalm¬ ists and Prophets look back with exultation and delight to the day when the rod of the oppressor was broken, 1 when the hosts of Sisera perished at Endor, when Zeba and Zalmunna were swept away as the stubble before the wind. Our age is an immense advance upon the age of chivalry and the Crusaders; but it is well, from time to time, to be reminded that there are virtues in chivalry and in barbarism, as well as in reason and civilization; and the author of the Epistle to the Hebrews has taught us that even the most imperfect of the champions of ancient times may be ranked in the cloud of the witnesses of faith,— “God having provided some better thing for us, that “ they without us might not be made perfect.” 2 1 Isaiah ix. 4 ; x. 26; Ps. lxxxiii. 9-11. 2 Heb. xi. 40. 348 DEBORAH. Lect. XIV. LECTURE XIY. DEBORAH. <• The great war of the earlier period of the history is heralded by two or three lesser conflicts. Othniel only appears as the last of the generation othniei. of conquerors. 1 In him the Lion of Judah, which had won the southern portion of Palestine under Caleb, appears for the last time, till the resus¬ citation of the warlike spirit of the tribe by David. All the other indications of its history during this period are peaceful; the pastoral simplicity of Boaz and Ruth, its absence from the gathering under Barak, its retiring demeanor in the story of Samson. The enemy whom Othniel attacked is also a solitary exception. Chushan-Rishathaim is the only invader from the remote East till the decline of the mon¬ archy, and his name has as yet received no illustra¬ tion from the Assyrian monuments or history. The story of Ehud throws a broader light over the Ehud. darkness of the time. The Moabite armies, the most civilized of the Transjordanic nations, exasperat¬ ed, perhaps, by the increasing inroads of Gad and Reu¬ ben, place themselves at the head of the more no¬ madic tribes of Ammon and Amalek, cross the Jordan, and (like the Israelites on their first passage) estab¬ lish themselves at Gilgal and Jericho. Beyond the Lect. XIV. EHUD. 349 mountain barrier they did not reach; 1 but their do¬ minion extended itself over the neighboring tribe of Benjamin, 2 and a village bearing the name of the "hamlet of the Ammonites” 3 was probably the me¬ morial of this conquest. From Benjamin, accordingly, a yearly tribute was exacted. There was in the tribe a youth 4 of the name of Ehud, who had acquired a fame for prophetic power in the country. He was naturally intrusted with the charge of carrying the tribute to the Moabite fortress. After he had de¬ livered the gifts, he paid a visit to the sacred enclos¬ ure 5 or "images” at Gilgal, left his two attendants, 6 and returned, with his increased knowledge of the localities, to the presence of the king. The whole scene is full of the contrast between the slight, wily, agile Israelite, and the corpulent, 7 credulous, unwieldy Moabite. The king is seated in a chamber on the roof of the house for the sake of catching a cool air in the sultry atmosphere of the Jordan valley, with his attendants around him. Ehud announces that he has a secret oracle to disclose. The king, with an instantaneous " Hush! ” 8 orders his attendants to with¬ draw. Ehud, still fearing lest his blow should miss its aim, repeats the announcement of the divine mes¬ sage. This was to raise the king from his sitting posture, and expose him to the stroke more easily. Eglon falls into the snare. With the respect always paid in the East to a sacred personage, he rises and comes towards the assassin. In that moment, from 1 Judg. iii. 13. the word translated “ quarries,” Judg. 2 Ibid. 26. iii. 19, 26. 3 Josh, xviii. 24. 6 Joseph. Ant. v. 4, § 2 ; ovv dvolv 4 Joseph, Ant. v. 4, § 2 ; veavtac, oIketclls. veavloHoq. 7 Judg. iii. 17. 5 This seems to be the meaning of 8 Ibid. 19 (Hebrew). 350 DEBORAH. Lect. XIV the long mantle , 1 which as the leader of the tribe he wore round him, Ehud, left-handed like so many of his tribesmen, a drew the long dagger concealed on his right thigh. Its flash 3 is seen for an instant, before the flesh of the portly king closes in upon it. Ehud escapes by the gallery round the roof, locking the door behind him. He regains the sanctuary at Gilgal, then darts into the mountains, and rouses his coun¬ trymen by the rude blasts of his cow-horns, blown in every direction over the hill-side. The upper cham¬ ber at Jericho, meanwhile, remains shut. The attend¬ ants stand outside. They cannot account for the long closing of the door, except on the supposition that their lord had retired there for purposes which Orien¬ tal delicacy reserves for seclusion. At last their hope fails . 4 They find the huge corpse stretched on the ground. They fly panic-stricken; but, by the time they reach the ford of the Jordan, they find it inter¬ cepted by the Israelite warriors, and the narrative ends as it had begun, with its half-humorous allusion to the well-fed 6 carcasses of those, who, corpulent like their chief, lay dead along the shore of the river. But the crowning event of this period, both in its Deborah. intrinsic interest and our knowledge of it, is the victory of Deborah and Barak. It is told both in prose and poetry, and the poem is one of the most incontestable remains of antiquity that the Sa¬ cred records contain, and the increased pleasure and instruction with which we are enabled to read it furnish a signal proof of the gain added to our Bib¬ lical knowledge by the advance of Biblical criticism. 1 The word translated “raiment,” 2 Ibid. xx. 16; 1 Chron. xii. 2. Judg. iii. 16. 4 Judg. iii. 25 (Hebrew). 3 LXX. tfkby a. Comp. Nahum iii. 5 Ibid. 29. The word translated 3; Judg. iii. 22 ; Job xxxix. 23. “ lusty,” always elsewhere “ fat.” 7 /, Q w To Adsnvud'. /u*. Mfi W. q551.48 Poland (1918- )--Panstwowa slu2ba P75s hydrografiazna. ... Szczegolowy pod zial dorzecza Prypeci ... 1933. (Card 2 ) Pologne. Folded map in pocket on back cover. Table of contents, chapter and table headings in Polish and French. French summary. IIIL 34-2102 Lect. XIV. DEBORAH. 351 If, in the story of Ehud and Eglon, we trace some¬ thing of what may be called the comic vein of the Sacred History, in the story of Deborah and Sisera we come across the tragic vein in its grandest style. The power of the northern kings, which Joshua had broken down at the waters of Merom, revived under a second Jabin, also king of Hazor. The for¬ midable chariots, as before, overran the territories of the adjacent tribes. The wdiole country was disor¬ ganized with terror. The obscure tortuous paths be¬ came the only means of communication . 1 As long afterwards in the time of Saul, regular weapons dis¬ appeared from the oppressed population. “ There was “ not a spear or shield seen among forty thousand in “ Israel .” 2 Shamgar, the son of Anath, defended him¬ self against the enemies of the south with a long pole armed at the end with a spike still used by the peasants of Palestine. In this general depression, the national spirit was revived by one whose appearance is full of significance. On the heights of Ephraim, on the central thoroughfare of Palestine, near the sanc¬ tuary of Bethel, stood two famous trees (if we may be permitted to distinguish them), both in after-times known by the same name. One was “the oak-tree,” or “Terebinth” “of Deborah,” underneath which was buried, with many tears, the nurse of Jacob . 3 The other was a solitary palm, which, in all probability, had given its name to an adjacent sanctuary, Baal- Tamar , 4 “the sanctuary of the palm,” but which was also known in after-times as “the palm-tree of Deb¬ orah .” 5 Under this palm, as Saul afterwards under 1 Judg. v. 5. 4 Judg. xx. 33. 2 Ibid. 8. 5 Her name, on which Josephua 3 Gen. xxxiv. 8, and possibly “ the ( Ant . v. 5) lays stress, as the Sacred oak of Tabor,” 1 Sam. x. 3. Bee or “ Queen Bee ” of Palestine, 352 DEBOKAH. Lect. XIV the pomegranate-tree of Migron , 1 as S. Louis under the oak-tree of Vincennes, dwelt Deborah the wife of Lapidoth, to whom the sons of Israel came up to receive her wise answers. She is the magnificent impersonation of the free spirit of the Jewish peo¬ ple and of Jewish life. On the coins of the Roman Empire, Judaea is represented as a woman seated under a palm-tree, captive and weeping. It is the contrast of that figure which will best place before us the character and call of Deborah. It is the same Judaean palm, under whose shadow she sits, but not with downcast eyes and folded hands, and extin¬ guished hopes; with all the fire of faith and energy, eager for the battle, confident of the victory. Like the German prophetess who roused her people against the invaders from Rome, like the simple peasant-girl, who by communing with mysterious angels’ voices roused the French nation against the English do¬ minion, when princes and statesmen had wellnigh given up the cause, — so the heads of Israel “ceased “ and ceased, until that she, Deborah, arose, that she “ arose, a mother in Israel.” Her appearance was like a new epoch. They chose new chiefs that came as new gods 2 among them. It was she who turned her eyes and the eyes of the nation to the fitting leader. As always in these wars, he was to come from the tribe that most immediately suffered from the yoke of the oppressor. High up in the north, almost within sight of the capital of Jabin, was the sanctuary of Kedesh- the tribe of Naphtali, — Kedesh-Naphtali. It Naphtah. * g a S p 0 ^ w hich, though only mentioned here may be perhaps derived from her Dissertation on the Song of Debo- patriarchal namesake, by whose tomb rah. she sat. Compare Donaldson's Latin 1 1 Sam. xiv. 2. 2 Judg. v. 8. ( Lect. XIV. KEDE SH-XAPHTALI. 353 in direct connection with the sacred history, retained its sanctity long afterwards . 1 Planted on a hill over¬ looking a double platform, or green upland plain, amongst the mountains of Naphtali, its site is cov¬ ered with ancient ruins beyond any other spot in western Palestine, if we except the ancient capitals of Hebron, Jerusalem, and Samaria. Tombs of every kind, rock-hewn caves, stone coffins thrust into the earth, elaborate mausoleums, indicate the reverence in which it must have been held by successive gen¬ erations of the Jewish people. In this remote sanc¬ tuary lived a chief, who bore the significant name — which afterwards reappears amongst the warriors of Carthage —- “ Barak ” — “ Barca ” — “ Lightning .” 2 His fame must have been wide-spread to have reached the prophetess in her remote dwelling at Bethel. From his native place she summoned him to her side, and delivered to him her prophetic command. He, as if oppressed by the presence of a loftier spirit than his own, refuses to act, unless she were with him to guide his movements, and (according to the Septuagint version) to name the very day which should be auspicious for his effort: “ For I know not “ the day on which the Lord will send his good angel “with me .” 3 She replies at once with the Hebrew emphasis: “I will go, I will go!” but adding the res¬ ervation, that the honor should not rest with the man who thus leaned upon a woman, but that a woman should reap the glory of the day of which a woman had been the adviser. It was from Kedesh 1 It is described in Robinson, iii. appears in the present text is still 367. I saw it in 1862. more thoroughly brought out in Jose- 2 Joseph. (Ant. v. 5, § 2) dwells phus, Ant. v. 5, § 3. The emphasis is on this. on “ thou.” — “ The way which thou 3 Judg. iv. 9. The ambiguity which goest.” 45 354 DEBORAH. Lect. XIV. that the insurrection, thus organized, spread from The tribe to tribe. The temperature of the zeal fhe h tribes.° of the different portions of the nation can be traced almost in proportion to their nearness to the centre of the agitation. The main support of the cause was naturally derived from the northern tribes, who were the chief sufferers from the oppressor, and who fell most immediately within the range of Barak’s influence. The leading tribe, conjointly with Barak’s own clan of Naphtali, but even more conspicuously, was Zebulun , 1 as though the spirit of the neighboring population was less crushed than that which lay close under the walls of Jabin’s capital. The sceptres or standards of Zebulun stamped themselves on the mind of the beholders, as the two kindred tribes, drew near to “ the high places of the field ” 2 of the upland plain of Kedesh, ready “to throw” their lives headlong into the mortal struggle. With them, but in a subordinate place, were the chiefs of Issachar , 3 roused apparently by Deborah herself, as she passed over the plain of Esdraelon on her way to Kedesh. To her influence also must be ascribed the rising of the central tribes around her residence at Bethel. From the mountain which bore the name of Amalek came a band of Ephraimites. The war-cry of Benja¬ min, “After thee, Benjamin !” 4 was raised, and from the north-eastern portion of Manasseh came repre¬ sentatives bearing some high title, which distinguished them from the surrounding chiefs . 5 of iv. 14 with ver. 10, rather favors the former. The Vulgate translates it in regione Merom. 3 Judg. v. 15. 4 Ibid" 14. 5 Ibid. 14, (Hebrew). 1 The two occur together, Judg. iv. 10; v. 18; but Zebulun first; and Zebulun also appears in chap. v. 14. 2 Judg. v. 18. The “ high places of the field,” here more especially asso¬ ciated with Naphtali, may be either Kedesh or Tabor. The comparison Lect. XIV. THE GATHERING OF THE TRIBES. 355 Three portions of the nation remained aloof. Of Judah nothing is said. Dan and Asher, the two mari¬ time tribes, clung the one to his ships in the harbor of Joppa, the other to his sea-shore by the bay of Acre. The Transjordanic tribes met by one of the rushing streams of their native hills — the Arnon or the Jabbok — to decide on their course. “ Great was the debate.” The pastoral Reuben preferred to linger among the sheepfolds, among the whistling pipes of the shepherds . 1 “ Great was the wavering ” that fol¬ lowed. And the nomadic Gileadites abode in their tents or their cities, safe beyond the Jordan valley. These, however, were exceptions. It was a general revival of the national spirit, such as rarely occurred. The leaders are described as filling their places with an ardor worthy of their position. “ The chiefs be- came the chiefs,” in deed , 2 as well as in name. u The lawgivers of Israel willingly offered themselves “ for the people .” 3 “ The Lord came down amongst “ the mighty.” And to this the nation responded with a readiness, unlike their usual sluggishness, as under Gideon and Saul. “ The people willingly offered them- u selves .” 4 u They that rode on white asses, they that “ sate on rich carpets of state, they that humbly “ walked by the way ,” 5 all joined in this solemn en¬ terprise. The muster-place was Mount Tabor. The marked isolation of the mountain, the broad green- The meet sward on its summit, possibly the first begin- j”g u °“ nings of the fortress which crowned its height Tabor * 1 See Ewald, iii. 88 note. “ On 2 Judg. v. 15, 16 (Hebrew). Lebanon we met a troop of goats, the 3 Ibid. 9, 13 (Hebrew), goatherds singing in chorus to the 4 Ibid. 2. music of a well-played reed-pipe.” 5 Ibid. 10 (Miss Beaufort’s Travels , i. 283.) 356 DEBOKAH. Lect. XIV in later times, pointed it out as the encampment of the northern tribes, in the centre of which it stood. It has been already noticed that, in all probability, this was the mountain to which the people of “ Zebu- lun and Issachar ” are called by Moses “ to offer sac¬ rifices of righteousness .” 1 There two at least of the tribes, Zebulun and Naphtali, waited under their leaders for the appearance of the enemy. A village on the wooded slope of the hill still bears the name of Debo¬ rah, possibly from this connection with her history. The enemy were not without tidings of the insur¬ rection. Close beside Kedesh-Naphtali was a tribe, hovering between Israel and Canaan, which we shall shortly meet again, through which (so we are led to infer 2 ) this information came. From Harosheth of the Gentiles — the “ woodcuttings ” or “ quarries ” of the mixed heathen population on the outskirts of Lebanon — came down the Canaanite host, with the chariots of iron, in which, after the manner of their country¬ men, they trusted as invincible. Their leader, the first, indeed the only, commander of whom we hear by name on the adverse side of these long wars, was himself a native of Harosheth, and a potentate of suf¬ ficient grandeur to have his mother recognized in the surrounding tribes as a kind of queen-mother of the place; and whose family traditions had struck such root, that the name of “Sisera” occurs long after¬ wards in the history, and the great Jewish Rabbi Akiba 3 claimed to be descended from him. Jabin himself seems not to have been present. But, as in the former battle by the waters of Merom, so now, several kings of the Canaanites had joined him ; 4 and 1 Deut. xxxiii. 19. 2 J u dg. i v . n. 3 See Milman’s Hist, of the Jews, 4 J u dg. v. 3, 19. Lect. XIV. BATTLE OF MEGIDDO. 357 they, with all their forces, encamped in the plain of Esdraelon, now for the first time the battle-field of Israel, where their chariots and cavalry could act most effectively. They took up their position in the south-west corner of the plain, where a long spur, now clad with olives, runs out from the hills of Manasseh On this promontory still stands a large stone village, in its name of Taanak , 1 marking the site of Taanach. the Canaanitish fortress of Taanach, beside which, doubtless, as occupied by a kindred unconquered pop¬ ulation, the Canaanite kings were intrenched. It is just at this point that the traveller catches the first distinct view of the arched summit of Tabor. From that summit Deborah must have watched the gradual drawing of the enemy towards the spot of her pre¬ dicted triumph. She raised the cry, which twice over occurs in the story of the battle, “ Arise, Barak .” 2 She gave with unhesitating confidence to the doubl¬ ing troops the augury which he had asked before the insurrection began, — “ This” this and no other, “ is the day when the Lord shall deliver Sisera into thy hand .” 3 Down from the wooded heights descended Barak and his ten thousand men. It is emphatically repeated that they were “ on foot ,” 4 and thus contrast¬ ed in the most forcible manner with the horses and chariots of their enemies. From Tabor to Taanach is a march of about thir¬ teen miles, and therefore the approach must have been long foreseen by the Canaanitish forces. They moved westwards along the plain, which here forms, as it were, a large bay to the south, between the projecting 1 Judg. i. 27 ; v. 19. 2 Ibid. iv. 14 (Hebrew); v. 12. 3 Ibid. iv. 8 (LXX.). 14; Joseph. 4 Ibid. iv. 10; v. 15. Ant. v. 5, § 3. 358 DEBORAH. Lect. XIY. promontory of Taanach and the first beginnings of Carmel. The plain is luxuriant with weeds and corn. One solitary tree rises from the midst of it. The great caravan route from Damascus to Egypt passes, and probably at that time already passed, across it. At the head of this curve stood another unsubdued Canaanitish The waters fortress, Megiddo, afterwards the station of a ofMegiddo. R oman “Legion,” whence its present name, Led- jun. Towards the cover of this, it may be, securer fast¬ ness, hut still keeping along the level plain, the Canaan¬ itish army moved. Its final encampment was beside the numerous rivulets which, descending from the hills of Megiddo into the Kishon, as it flows in a broader stream through the cornfields below, may well have been known as “ the waters of Megiddo .” 1 It was at this critical moment that (as we learn directly from Josephus , 2 and indirectly from the song of Deborah) a tremendous storm of sleet and hail gathered from the east, and burst over the plain, driving full in the faces of the advan¬ cing Canaanites. “ The stars in their courses fought with Sisera.” 3 As in like case in the battle of Cressy, Ihe slingers and the archers were disabled by the rain, the swordsmen were crippled by the biting cold. The Israelites, on the other hand, having the storm on their rear, w r ere less troubled by it, and derived confidence from the consciousness of this Providential aid. The confusion became great. The “rain descended,” the four rivulets of Megiddo were swelled into powerful 1 Judg. v. 19. The whole of this repetition of the word “ fought ” from scene I traversed in 1862. the previous verses, suggests the pos- 2 Ant. v. 5, § 4. sibility that what is meant is the con- 3 Judg. v. 20. I have taken this trast between the fighting of the stars verse, as it is usually rendered, as if for Sisera, and the flood of the Kishon “ against.” But the ambiguity of the against him. original “ with,” combined with the Lect. XIV. FLIGHT OF SISERA. 359 streams, the torrent of the Kishon rose into a flood, the plain became a morass. The chariots and the horses, which should have gained the day for the Car naanites, turned against them. They became entangled in the swamp; the torrent of Kishon — the torrent famous through former ages — swept them away in its furious eddies; and in that wild confusion “ the “strength” of the Canaanites “was trodden down,” and “ the horsehoofs stamped and struggled by the means “ of the plungings and plungings of the mighty chiefs ’’ in the quaking morass and the rising streams. Far and wide the vast army fled, far through the The flight, eastern branch of the plain by Endor. There, between Tabor and the Little Hermon, a carnage took place long remembered, in which the corpses lay fattening the ground . 1 Onwards from thence they still fled over the northern hills to the city of their great captain, — Harosheth of the Gentiles . 2 Fierce and rapid was the pursuit. One city, by which the pursuers and pur¬ sued passed, gave no help. “ Curse ye Meroz, curse “ ye with a curse its inhabitants, because they The fall of “ came not to the help of Jehovah.” So, as it Mer02, would seem, spoke the prophetic voice of Deborah . 3 We can imagine what was the crime and what the punishment from the analogous case of Succoth and Penuel, which, in like manner, gave no help when Gideon pursued the Midianites. The curse was so fully carried out, that the name of Meroz never again ap¬ pears in the sacred history . 4 Of the Canaanite fugitives, none reached their own mountain fortress: even the 1 “ W T hich perished at Endor, and 3 “ The messenger of the Lord.” became as dung for the earth.” (Ps. (Judg. v. 23.) ixxxiii. 10.) 4 Eusebius and Jerome, however, 2 Judg. iv. 16. mention a spot near Dothan, of this name. ( Onomasticon de Locis Heb.) 360 DEBORAH. Lect. XIV. tidings of the disaster were long delayed. "From the high latticed windows of Harosheth, the inmates of Sisera’s harem, his mother, and her attendant prin¬ cesses, are on the stretch of expectation for the sight of the war-car of their champion, with the lesser chariots around him. They sustain their hopes by counting over the spoils that he will bring home,— rich embroidery for themselves; female slaves for each of the chiefs. The prey would never come. That well-known chariot of iron would never return. It was left to rust on the banks of the Kishon, like Rod¬ erick’s by the shores of the Guadalete. In the moment of the general panic, Sisera had sprung from his seat, and escaped on foot over the northern mountains towards Hazor. It must have been three days after the battle that he reached a spot, which seems to gather into itself, as in the last scene of an eventful drama, all the characters of the previous acts. Be¬ tween Hazor, the capital of Jabin, and Kedesh-Naph- tali, the birthplace of Barak, — each within a day’s journey of the other, — lies, raised high above the plain of Merom, amongst the hills of Naphtali , 1 a green plain, which joins almost imperceptibly with that over¬ hung by Kedesh-Naphtali itself. This plain is still, The oak of an d was then, studded with massive terebinths, zaanaim. Naphtali itself seems to have derived from them the symbol of its tribe, “ a towering terebinth .” 2 They were themselves marked in that early age by a sight unusual in this part of Palestine. Underneath the spreading branches of one of them there dwelt, unlike the inhabitants of the surrounding villages, a 1 Josh. xix. 33, Allon-Zaananim. 2 Gen. xlix. 21 (Hebrew). Judg. iv. 11, mistranslated “Plain of Zaanaim.” Lect. XIV. FLIGHT OF SISERA. 361 settlement of Bedouins, living, as if in the desert, with their tents pitched, and their camels and asses around them, whence the spot had acquired the name of “ the Terebinth,” or “ Oak, of the Unloading of Tents.” Be¬ tween Heber, the chief of this little colony, and the king of Hazor, there was peace. It would even seem that from him, or from his tribe, thus planted on the debatable ground between Kedesh and Hazor, Sisera had derived the first intelligence of the insurrection . 3 Thither, therefore, it was that, confident in Arab fidelity, the wearied general turned his steps. He approached the tent, not of Heber, but for the sake of greater security , 2 the harem of the chieftainess, Jael, the “ Gazelle.” It was a fit name for a Bedouin’s wife — especially for one whose family had come from the rocks of Engedi, “ the spring of the wild goat ” or “ chamois.” The long, low tent was spread under the tree, and from under its cover she advanced jaei. to meet him with the accustomed reverence. “Turn “in, my lord, turn in, and fear not.” She covered him with a rough wrapper or rug, on the slightly raised divan inside the tent; and he, exhausted with his flight, lay down, and then, lifting up his head, begged for a drop of water to cool his parched lips. She brought him more than water. She unfastened the mouth of the large skin, such as stand by Arab tents, which was full of sweet milk from the herds or the camels. She offered , 3 as for a sacrificial feast, in the bowl used for illustrious guests , 4 the thick curded 1 Judg. iv. 12. 4 “The milk was presented to us in 2 From the security of the wife’s a wooden bowl; the liquid butter in an tent, the valuables, culinary utensils, earthenware dish ” (Irby and Mangles, &c., are kept in it. 481). “ Once we had milk sweetened 3 The word translated “ brought and curdled to the consistency of liq- forth,” Judg. t. 25, has this meaning, uid jelly, too thick to be drunk, and 46 362 DEBOKAH. Lect. XIV. milk, frothed like cream, and the weary man drank, and then (secure in the Bedouin hospitality which re¬ gards as doubly sure the life of one who has eaten and drunk at the hand of his host) he sank into a deep sleep, as she again drew round him the rough Themur- covering which for a moment she had with- der * drawn. Then she saw that her hour was come. She pulled up from the ground the large pointed peg or nail 1 which fastened down the ropes of the tent, and held it in her left hand; with her right hand she grasped the ponderous hammer or wooden mallet of the workmen of the tribe. Her attitude, her weapon, her deed, are described both in the historic and poetic account of the event, as if fixed in the national mind. She stands like the personification of the figure of speech, so famous in the names of Judas the Macca- bee , 2 and Charles Martel; the Hammer of her country’s enemies. Step by step we see her advance; first, the dead silence with which she approaches the sleeper, "slumbering with the weariness of one who has run "far and fast,” then the successive blows with which she " hammers, crushes, beats, and pierces through and "through” the forehead of the upturned face, till the point of the nail reaches the very ground on which the slumberer is stretched; and then comes the one startling bound, the contortion of agony, with which the expiring man rolls over from the low divan, and only to be taken up with the hands” sel, round like a pan, to be drunk by (482). In a meal with Aghyle Aga, raising it to the lips. In both were a Bedouin chief, between Tiberias and dipped the large flexible cakes of Arab Tabor in 1862, we had both these bev- bread, which lay in profusion on the erages. The sour milk ( Lebban ) was carpets. in a large pewter vessel, like a small 1 Iron, in Jos. Ant. v. 5, § 4. barrel; a cup floated in it to skim and 2 The word Maccab ( u Hammer ” ) drink the contents. The sweet milk is the very one used in Judg. iv. 21. ( Halib ) was in a smaller pewter ves- Lect. XIY. THE MURDER OF SISERA. 363 lies weltering in blood between her feet as she strides over the lifeless corpse . 1 At this moment Barak, the conqueror, appeared. He might be in direct pursuit of the fugitive chief. He might be approaching his native place, now hard by. Out from the tent, as before, came the undaunted chieftainess, and showed the dead corpse as it lay with the stake or tent-pin fixed firm in the shat- *■ tered head. With this ghastly scene of the Three Neighbors of the hills of Naphtali, thus at last brought face to face, under the Terebinth of Kedesh, the di¬ rect narrative suddenly closes, as though its work were done. But Deborah’s song of victory breaks in, and continues in its highest strains the echo The Song of that day. In company with the returning rah. conqueror, or herself leading the chorus, after the manner of Hebrew women, the Prophetess poured forth the hymn wdiich marks the greatness of the crisis. It could be compared to nothing short of the day when Israel passed through the desert. The storm which had been sent to discomfit the Canaanite host, recalled the trembling of the earth, the heavens and the clouds dropping water, the mountains melt¬ ing from before the Lord. Barak, with his long train of spoils and prisoners, had “ led captivity captive.” The sentiment even of the woman’s delight in the dresses won in the spoils transpires through the war¬ like rejoicing: the pieces of embroidery are counted over in imagination, as they are torn away from the mother and the harem of Sisera for the women of Israel. The feelings and the words of the song rang on through subsequent times, and in the Prophet 1 All these details may be seen by examining word by word the original of Judg. iv. 21; v. 26, 27. 364 DEBORAH. Lect. XIY Habakkuk, and still more in tlie 68th Psalm, we catch again the very same strains ; the march through the desert; the flight of kings; the dividing of the spoil by those who tarried at home. 1 It was, as the close of the hymn expresses it, like the full burst of the sun out of the darkness of the night or the blackness of a storm, “a hero in his strength.” 2 The likeness of the outward features of this deci- Effect of sive battle to that of Cressy has been already ■ the Battle, ported out; the storm, the cold, the burst of sunlight, are all in each. A still more striking re¬ semblance is the defeat of the Carthaginians, by Timo- leon, at the battle of the Crimesus, in Sicily. 3 It opens with the spirit-stirring or prophet-like speech of Timoleon, “as though a God were speaking with him.” His encampment, like Barak’s, is on the hill above the river. The chariots of his opponents are broken by the Greek infantry. The violent storm of wind, rain, hail, thunder and lightning, beating in the faces of the Carthaginians, but only on the backs of the Greeks; the confusion in the river, becoming every moment fuller and more turbid through the violent rain, so that numbers perished in the torrent; the total rout, the capture of the chariots — the spoils of ornamented shields — are the exact counter¬ parts of the victory of Barak over Sisera. But, in its moral aspect, the triumph of Barak was far greater, even than the triumph of Greek civilization over Carthaginian barbarism. It was the enemies of Jeho¬ vah who had perished. It was the securing of the true religion from the attempt of the old Paganism 1 Habak. iii. 3, 10, 13, 14; Ps. Ixviii. 7, 8, 12, 13. 2 Judg. v. 31. 3 Grote’s Hist, of Greece , xi. 246. The likeness was pointed out to me by a friend. Lect. XIV EFFECT OF THE BATTLE. 365 to recover its ascendency in the Holy Land. It ranks, in the Sacred History, next after the Battle of Beth-horon, amongst the religious battles of the world. And, therefore, not unworthily of this object in the song of Deborah we have the only prophetic utter¬ ance that breaks the silence between Moses and Samuel. Hers is the one voice of inspiration (in the full sense of the word) that breaks out in the Book of Judges. In her song are gathered up all the les¬ sons which the rest of the book teaches indirectly. Hers is the life, both in her own history and in the whole period, that expresses the feelings and thoughts of thousands, who were silent till “ she, Deborah, arose a mother in Israel” Hers is the prophetic word that gives an utterance and a sanction to the thoughts of freedom, of independence, of national unity, such as they had never had before in the world, and have rarely had since. It is this religious aspect of the battle, this pro¬ phetic character of its chief leader, that has caused the difficulty, or the instruction, which is to be de¬ rived from her benediction of the assassination of Sisera. Few persons read the chapter without a momentary perplexity. Even in the humblest classes, and The biess- • • • ing on holiest hearts, a question not of sinful doubt, Jaei. but of most religious inquiry, arises, — What is the purpose of thus recording and of thus blessing an act which is so repugnant to our notions of Christian and European morality? There have been numerous answers given to this question; that for example of the Rabbis, that the act of Jael was in self-defence against a personal out- 366 DEBORAH. Lect. XIV. rage of Sisera; or of Augustine/ that it was dictated by a sudden divine impulse or revelation. It is suf¬ ficient to say of both these solutions that they are gratuitous inventions, equally without the slightest foundation in the narrative itself. And in the case of the latter hypothesis, the difficulty would not be removed, but would be greatly increased by this at¬ tempt to push it back into a still more sacred region. It has been argued, again, that the act of Jael is not commended in the Sacred History. But though this is a true answer to many so-called difficulties in the Old Testament, which arise merely from investing with an imaginary perfection every subject which it treats • and though this act is not commended ex¬ pressly by the words of the narrative, it is commended by its general spirit; and also both by the spirit and the words of the song of Deborah. That song, as has just been observed, is the one prophecy of the period; and, therefore, if we do not find the inspiration of the Book of Judges here, we find it nowhere. It gives the key-note to the whole book, and must be regarded as the fittest exponent of its meaning. But in fact, the same answer is to be given which covers not only this, but hundreds of similar cases. Deborah, it is true, spoke as a prophetess, but it was as a prophetess enlightened only with a very small portion of that Divine Light which went on brighten¬ ing ever more and more unto the perfect day. She saw clearly for a little way — but it was only for a little way. Beyond that, the darkness of the time still rested upon her vision. Curse ye Meroz,’ said the angel of the Lord; cuxse “ ye bitterly the inhabitants thereof,” sang Deborah. 1 Opp. iii. pp. 1 , 603. Lect. XIY. THE BLESSING ON JAEL. 367 “ Was it,” asks our eminent philosophic theologian, “ that she called to mind any personal wrongs — rap- “ ine or insult — that she, or the house of Lapidoth, " had received from Jabin or Sisera ? “ No, she had dwelt under her palm-tree in the " depth of the mountains. But she was a ‘ Mother in “ Israel; ’ and with a mother’s heart, and with the “ vehemency of a mother’s and a patriot’s love, she u had shot the light of love from her eyes, and poured “ the blessings of love from her lips, on the people that "had ‘jeoparded their lives unto the death,’ against “ the oppressors 3 and the bitterness, awakened and " borne aloft by the same love, she precipitated in " curses on the selfish and coward recreants who ‘ came " not to the help of the Lord, to the help of the Lord " against the mighty.’ As long as I have the image " of Deborah before my eyes, and while I throw my- " self back into the age, country, and circumstances of " this Hebrew Boadicea, in the yet not tamed chaos " of the spiritual creation • as long as I contemplate " the impassioned, high-souled, heroic woman, in all the " prominence and individuality of will and character, “ I feel as if I were among the first ferments of the " great affections, — the proplastic waves of the micro- " cosmic chaos, swelling up against and yet towards the " outspread wings of the Dove that lies brooding on " the troubled waters. So long all is well, all replete a with instruction and example. In the fierce and in- " ordinate, I am made to know and be grateful for the " clearer and purer radiance which shines on a Chris- “ tian’s path, neither blunted by the preparatory veil, " nor crimsoned in its struggle through the all-enwrap- " ping mist of the world’s ignorance: whilst in the self oblivion of these heroes of the Old Testament — their 368 DEBORAH. Lect. XIV. “ elevation above all low and individual interests, above " all, in the entire and vehement devotion of their to- " tal being to the service of their Divine Master — I “ find a lesson of humility, a ground of humiliation, " and a shaming, yet rousing, example of faith and " fealty.” 1 And when, from the inspiration of Deborah, we pass to the deed of Jael, we must be content there also to admit the same imperfection of moral perceptions, which the Highest authority has already recognized in the clearest terms. "Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt " love thy neighbour and hate thine enemy.” 2 Jael did hate her enemy with a perfect hatred. For the sake of destroying him, she broke through all the bonds of hospitality, of gratitude, and of truth. But then, it must not be forgotten, that if there is any portion of the Sacred History, where we should expect these bonds to be loosened, and a higher light obscured, it would be in this period of disorder, " when there was " no king in Israel, and when every one ” — the Isra¬ elite warrior here — the Arabian chieftainess there — " did what was right in his or her eyes.” The allow¬ ance that, according to our Saviour’s rule, we make for Ehud, for Jael, for Deborah, is precisely the same that, if it were not Sacred History, we should at once ac¬ knowledge. We do not condemn the Greeks, according to the light which they had, for praising Harmodius and Aristogiton in their plot against the tyrants of Athens. We ourselves are almost inclined, in consid¬ eration of the greatness of the necessity, and the con¬ fusion of the time, to praise the murder of Murat by 1 Coleridge’s Confessions of an En- 2 Matt. v. 43; see Lecture X. quiring Spirit , pp. 33, 34, 35. Lect. XIV. THE BLESSING ON JAEL. 369 Charlotte Corday, “the angel of assassination,” as she has been termed by an historian of unquestioned hu¬ manity. Why should we not be as indulgent to the characters of Sacred History, as we are to those of common history ? Why should not a blessing, even a Divine blessing, according to the only light which they were then able to bear, be bestowed on an act, which the most philosophic observer does not scruple to bestow as he looks back on the various imperfect acts of heroism and courage that have been wrought in troubled and violent times ? And, if we ask further, what can we learn from it ? and why should this deed and this commendation of it still be read in our churches ? the answer is this: — “ The spirit of the commendation of Jael is that God “ allows largely for ignorance where He finds sincerity; “ that they who serve Him honestly up to the measure “ of their knowledge are, according to the general course “ of His Providence, encouraged and blessed • that they “whose eyes and hearts are still fixed on duty and “ not on self, are plainly that smoking flax which He “ will not quench, but cherish rather until it be blown “ into a flame. . . . When we read some of those “ sad but glorious martyrdoms where good men — alas! “the while for human nature — were both the victims “ and the executioners, amidst all our unmixed admi- “ ration for the sufferers, may we not in some instances “ hope and believe that the persecutors were moved “ with a most earnest though an ignorant zeal, and “ that like Jael they sought to please God, though like her they essayed to do it by means which Christ’s “ Spirit condemns ? . . . Right and good it is that “ we should condemn the acts of many of those com- “ mended in the Old Testament; for we have seen what 47 370 DEBORAH. Lect. XIV. "prophets and righteous men for many an age were "not permitted to see; but no less right and needful " it is that we should imitate their fearless zeal, with- " out which we in our knowledge are without excuse; "with which they, by means of their unavoidable ig¬ norance, were even in their evil deeds blessed.” 1 2 THE SONG OF DEBORAHS PRELUDE. For the leading of the Leaders in Israel, For the free self-offering of the People. Praise Jehovah ! Hear, O Kings; give ear, O Princes; I to Jehovah, even I will sing, Will sound the harp to Jehovah, the God of Israel. THE EXODUS. O Jehovah, when thou wentest out of Seir, When thou marchedst out of the field of Edom, The earth trembled, the skies also dropped, The clouds also dropped water. The mountains melted from before the face of Jehovah, Sinai itself from before the face of Jehovah, the God of Israel. THE DISMAY. In the days of Shamgar, the son of Anath, In the days of Jael, ceased the roads; And they that walked on highways, walked through crooked roads. There ceased to be heads in Israel, ceased to be, Till I, Deborah, arose, Till I arose, a mother in Israel. 1 Arnold’s Sermons , vi. 86-88. 2 For the sake of convenience I have here inserted the Song. A well- known and spirited translation of it is to be found in Milman’s Hist, of the Jews , i. 194. In my own imperfect knowledge of Hebrew, I have ad¬ hered, as closely as I could, to the version of Ewald (Hehraische Poesie, p. 125), following always the order of the words, and their exact force in the original. Lect. XIV. THE SONG OF DEBORAH. THE CHANGE. They chose gods that were new, Then there was war in the gates; Shield was there none or spear, In forty thousand of Israel. My heart is towards the lawgivers of Israel, Who offered themselves willingly for the people. Praise Jehovah! Ye that ride on white dappled she-asses, Ye that sit on rich carpets, Ye that walk in the way, Meditate the song! From amidst the shouting of the dividers of spoils, Between the water-troughs, There let them rehearse the righteous acts of Jehovah, The righteous acts of His headship in Israel; Then went down to the gates the people of Jehovah. Awake, awake, Deborah! Awake, awake, utter a song! Arise, Barak! and lead captive thy captives, Thou son of Abinoam. THE GATHERING. Then came down a remnant of the nobles of the people. Jehovah came down to me among the heroes. Out of Ephraim came those whose root is in Amalek, After thee, O Benjamin, in thy people; Out of Macliir came down lawgivers, And out of Zebulun they that handle the staff of those that number the host; And the princes in Issachar with Deborah, and Issachar as Barak, Into the valley he was sent on his feet. THE RECREANTS. By the streams of Reuben great are the decisions of heart Why sittest thou between the sheepfolds ? To hear the piping to the flocks ? At the streams of Reuben great are the searchings of heart 872 DEBORAH. Lect. XIV. Gilead beyond the Jordan dwells, And Dan, why sojourns he in ships ? Asher sits at the shore of the sea, And on his harbors dwells. 4 THE BATTLE AND THE FLIGHT. Zebulun is a people throwing away its soul to death, And Naphtali on the high places of the field. There came kings, and fought; Then fought kings of Canaan — At Taanach, on the waters of Megiddo; Gain of silver took they not. From Heaven they fought; The stars from their courses Fought with Sisera. The torrent of Kishon swept them away, The ancient torrent, the torrent Kishon. Trample down, O my soul, their strength. Then stamped the hoofs of the horses, From the plungings and plungings of the mighty ones. THE FLIGHT. Curse ye Meroz, said the messenger of Jehovah; Curse ye with a curse the inhabitants thereof; Because they came not to the help of Jehovah, To the help of Jehovah, with the heroes. THE DESTROYER. Blessed above women be Jael, The wife of Heber the Kenite, Above women in the tent, blessed! Water he asked, milk she gave ; In a dish of the nobles she offered him curds. Her hand she stretched out to the tent-pin, And her right hand to the hammer of the workmen; And hammered Sisera, and smote his head, And beat and struck through his temples. Between her feet he bowed, he fell, he lay, Between her feet he bowed, he fell; Where he bowed, there he fell down slaughtered. Lect. XIV. THE SONG OF DEBORAH. 373 THE MOTHER. Through the window stretched forth and lamented The. mother of Sisera through the lattice : “ Wherefore delays his car to come ? u Wherefore tarry the wheels of his chariots ? ” 1 The wise ones of her princesses answer her, Yea, she repeats their answer to herself: “ Surely they are finding, are dividing the prey, “ One damsel, two damsels for the head of each hero. “ Prey of divers colors for Sisera, “ Prey of divers colors, of embroidery, “ One of divers colors, two of embroidery, for the neck [of the “ prey 2 ].” THE TRIUMPH. So perish all Thy enemies, O Jehovah; But they that love Thee are as the sun, when he goes forth like a giant. 1 A remarkable parallel to this is to be seen in the Greek Klephtic songs, belonging to a somewhat similar stage of society. 2 Shellal , “ prey,” is the reading of the Received Text, for which Ewald proposes to substitute shegal (the queen). Otherwise the connection of the word “prey” must be sup¬ plied. 374 GIDEON. Lect. XV. LECTURE XY. GIDEON. In the defeat of Sisera the last attempt of the old inhabitants to recover their sway was put down. The next event is wholly different. It is the invasion of The Midi- the tribes of the adjoining desert. The name anites. 0 f Midian, though sometimes given peculiarly to the tribe on the south-east shores of the Gulf of Akaba , 1 was extended to all Arabian tribes on the east of the Jordan, — “the Amalekites, and all the children of the East.” They have already appeared at the time of the first passage of Israel through the Trans- jordanic territory. In this, as on the former occasion, they are governed by Princes or Chiefs whose names are preserved. Two superior chiefs having the title of “king,” Zeba and Zalmunna ; 2 two inferior, Oreb and Zeeb, — “the Raven and the Wolf,” — bearing the title of “ princes .” 3 Their appearance is brought vividly before us. Like the Arab chiefs of modern days, they are dressed in gorgeous scarlet robes ; 4 on their necks and the necks of their camels are crescent-like orna¬ ments, such as were afterwards worn by Jewish ladies of high rank . 5 All of them wore rings, either nose¬ rings or ear-rings of gold . 6 1 1 Kings xi. 18. See Ewald, ii. 435, &c. 2 Judg. viii. 5. 3 Ibid. vii. 25. 4 Ibid. viii. 26. 5 Ibid. viii. 26 ; and Isa. iii. 10, 18 6 Gen. xxiv. 47 ; xxxv. 4. Lect. XV. FLIGHT OF THE ISRAELITES. 375 When these wild tribes, taking advantage perhaps o ’ the weakening of the intervening kingdoms of Am¬ mon and Moab, burst upon the country, their fierce aspect struck consternation wherever they went. " Let "us take to ourselves the pastures of God,” 1 —so in true nomadic phrase they are supposed to speak. They over-ran the whole country. Like the Bedouins who now make incursions into the plains of Esdraelon and Philistia; like the Scythians, who in the reign of Josiah spread southward "as far as Gaza ;” 2 so they, reaching to the same limits, were to be seen every¬ where, with their innumerable tents and camels, like the sand in the bay of Acre, — like one of those ter¬ rible armies of locusts described by the Prophet Joel . 3 The panic was proportionably great. The Israelite population left the plains and took refuge Theflight in the hills. Three places of refuge are spe- raelites. cially mentioned. First, the catacombs or galleries which they cut out of the rock, which are mentioned only in this place, and which, apparently, were pointed out, in after-times, as the memorials of these troubled days . 4 Secondly, the craggy peaks, such as the rock of Rimmon and the inaccessible Masada. Thirdly, the limestone caves, here first mentioned, and afterwards often used, like the Corycian cave in Greece, during the Persian invasion, and the caves of the Asturias in Spain, during the occupation of the Moors. It was returning to the old Troglodyte habits of the Horites and Phoenicians . 0 From this great calamity Israel was rescued by a great deliverer — the most heroic of all the Gideon, characters of this period. 1 Ps. lxxxiii. 12. 4 Jud". vi. 2 ; Rosenmiiller ad loc. 2 Zeph. ii. 5, 6 ; Judg. vi. 4. Comp. Job xxviii. 10. 3 Joel ii. 1-11. 5 Job xxx. 6. Herder, Spirit of Hebrew Poetry, p. 74. 376 GIDEON. Lect. XV The mas sacre on Mount Tabor. As in the other invasions and oppressions, so here, the deliverer is to be sought in the locality nearest to the chief scene of the invasion. Overhanging the plain of Esdraelon, where the vast army of the Mid- ianites was encamped, were the hills of the Western Manasseh. It was from a small family of this proud tribe 1 that the champion of Israel unexpectedly rose. There had already been collisions between them and the invaders. As in the time of Barak, so now the northern tribes seem to have met at the sanctuary of Mount Tabor, and there the elder sons of Joash the Abiezrite had been over¬ taken and slain by the Midianite kings . 2 They were a magnificent family — every one of them was like a Prince. And not the least regal was the sole survivor, Gideon. He was apparently the youngest; but had already one high-spirited son, — the boy Jether . 3 Even in the depressed state of his country and family, he kept up a dignity of his own. He had his ten slaves 4 and his armor-bearer, whose name, Phurah, has been preserved to us in the celebrity of his master . 5 His name was already great, as a “ mighty hero ,” 6 both amongst the Israelites and their invaders. It was whilst he was brooding over the wrongs of his family and his country that the call came upon him . 7 The scene was long preserved, and the manner of the call carries us back to the visions of the Patriarchal age. There were vineyards round his native Ophrah , 8 1 Judg. vi. 15 ; viii. 2. “ My thousand is the poor one.” Comp. Deut. xxxiii. 17 (the thousands, i. e families , of Manasseh). 2 Judg. viii. 18. 3 Ibid. 20. 4 Ibid. vi. 27. 5 Ibid. vii. 10. 6 Ibid. vi. 12, 29; vii. 14. 7 Ibid. 15 ; viii. 19. 8 Ibid. viii. 2. Lect. XY. THE CALL OF GIDEON. 377 and by the wine-press, in which the grapes would be trodden out in the coming autumn, he now, The vision in the summer months, doubtless with his at °P hrah - father’s bullocks , 1 was threshing out the newly gath¬ ered wheat. Close by the smooth level was a cave, into which the juice of the grapes ran off through a channel cut in the rocky reservoir, and which Gideon now used to hide the corn from the rapacious invad¬ ers. Above this cave, as it would seem, stood a rock, in the midst of a grove of trees, amongst which the most conspicuous was a well-known terebinth, spread¬ ing its wide branches alike over the rock and the wine-press. The grove was dedicated (so deeply had the Canaanitish worship spread even into the purest families) to Astarte. The rock, with an altar on its summit, was consecrated to Baal, and was venerated as a stronghold or asylum 2 by the neighborhood. A Prophet — whose name is not preserved to us 3 — had already been amongst the people, with warnings and encouragements. The message to Gideon is described in language of a more mysterious and solemn kind. “A messenger of the Lord” — a youth, according to the tradition in Josephus 4 — suddenly appears, leaning on a staff. The meal which Gideon had prepared for him beneath the terebinth becomes a sacrifice. The sacrifice is laid on the summit of the consecrated rock, as upon a natural altar. At the touch of the way¬ farer’s staff it is consumed in flames, and the heavenly messenger vanishes amidst the cries of alarm which the terrified Gideon utters at the consciousness of the 1 Judg. vi. 25, 26. poetical books, occurs here alone in 2 The -word Maoz , used for it in prose. Judg. vi. 26, though employed in the 3 Judg. vi. 8. 4 Jos. Ant. v. 6, § 8. 48 378 GIDEON. Lect. XV Divine Presence, till he receives the assurance of 66 the Peace of Jehovah.” There may be difficulties in the details of this nar¬ rative. But it faithfully exhibits the twofold call to Gideon which forms the framework of the rest of his history. 1. The first call, which is less distinctly described, The over- is the mission — almost of a prophetic charac- the wor- ter — to strike a decisive blow at the growing Baai.° f tendency to Phoenician worship in the central tribes of Palestine. On the morning, we are told, of the following day, the villagers assembled for their worship. They found that the consecrated trees were cut down. Their ashes were seen on the rock. A bullock had been consumed whole in the flames of the pile that had been heaped up. The altar had been swept away, and another new altar reared in its place to receive this sacrificial pile. The answer of Joash to those who charged his son with this act of sacrilege is based on that grand principle which runs through so large a part of the history of the Jewish Church, — that the real impiety is in those who believe that God cannot defend Himself. “ Will ye take upon u yourselves to plead Baal’s cause ? Let Baal plead “ for himself.” 1 Of this struggle, and of this icono- clasm, two distinct memorials remained. One was the new altar, which remained into the times of the mon¬ archy on the sacred rock, bearing in its name an allusion to the events which caused its erection,— Jehovah, Peace . 2 The other was the name adopted by Gideon, and perpetuated in different forms as Jerub- baal, Jerub-bosheth, Hierobaal, and Hierombal. Either 1 Judg.vi. 31. Compare Gamaliel’s 2 Judg. vi. 23, 24. speech, Acts v. 38 39 Lect. XV. THE BATTLE OF JEZREEL. 379 as the destroyer of the old, or the constructor of the new sanctuary, of which he afterwards became the Priest and Oracle, this name remained side by side with that which he bore as the deliverer from Midian, 1 and was the one which, alone of the names of this period, penetrated into the Gentile world. 2 2. The second call is that by which in later times Gideon has been chiefly known, — the war of Theinsur _ insurrection against Midian. His own char- acter is well indicated in the sign of the Mldian - fleece 3 — cool in the heat of all around, dry when all around were damped by fear. Throughout we see three great qualities, decision, caution, and magnanimity. The summons, as usual, by the well-known horn, first convenes his own clan of Abiezer; next, his own tribe of Manasseh; and lastly, the three northern tribes. Zebulun and Naphtali are still the faithful amongst the faithless, the nucleus of independence, as in the war of Deborah, as in the final war of Jew¬ ish patriotism against Rome. Asher has this time left his home by the shores of Accho; but Issachar, over¬ run by the Arab tribes, is absent. The career of Gideon is more than a battle, it is a campaign or war, which divides itself into three parts. The first is the battle of Jezreel. The Midianite encampment was on the northern side of the The battle valley, between Gilboa and Little Hermon. of JezreeL The Israelite encampment was on the slope of Mount Gilboa, by the spring of Jezreel, called, from The Spring the incident of this time, "the Spring of Trem- wing. 1 Judg. vii. 1 ; viii. 29; 1 Sam. xii. Hierombal see Euseb. Pr. Ev. i. 9; 11. Evvald, ii. 2 For Hierobaal see LXX. For 3 Ewald, ii. 500. 380 GIDEON. Lect. XV bling.” There had been the usual war-cry — “ What " man is there that is fearful and faint-hearted ? Let " him go and return unto his house, lest his brethren’s “ heart faint as well as his heart.” 1 It was modi- v lied on this occasion by its adaptation either to the peculiar war-cry of Manasseh, or to the actual scene of the encampment — " Whosoever is afraid, let him return from Mount Gilead,” 2 or (according to another reading) "from Mount Gilboa.” This had removed the cowards from the army. The next step was to remove the rash. 3 At the brink of the spring, those who rushed headlong down to quench their thirst, throwing themselves on the ground, or plunging their mouths into the water, were rejected, those who took up the water in their hands, and lapped it with self-restraint, were chosen. Gideon, thus left alone with his three hundred men, now needed an augury for himself. This was granted to him. It was night, when he and his armor-bearer descended from their secure position above the spring to the vast army below. They reached the outskirts of the tents amidst the deep silence which had fallen over the encampment, where the thousands of Arabs lay rapt in sleep or resting from their plunder, with their innumerable camels moored in peaceful repose around them. One of the sleepers, startled from his slumbers, was telling his dream to his fellow. A thin round cake of barley bread, of the most hoine- The panic, ly bread, 4 from those rich cornfields, those nu¬ merous threshing-places, those deep ovens sunk in the ground, which they had been plundering, came 1 Deut. xx. 8. 2 Judg. vii. 3. See Lecture IX. 3 This, in the Koran (ii. 250-252), 4 Josephus, Ant. v. 6, §4. Thom- is ascribed to Saul. son’s Land and Book, p. 449. Lect. XV. THE BATTLE OF THE ROCK OF OREB. 381 rolling into the camp, till it reached the royal tent in the centre, which fell headlong before it, and was turned over and over, till it lay flat upon the ground. Like the shadow of Richard, which, centuries later, was believed to make the Arab horses start at the sight of a bush, one name only seemed to occur as the interpretation of this sign: 66 The sword of Gideon, the son of Joash.” The Awful Listener heard the good omen, bowed himself to the ground in thankful acknowledgment of it, and disappeared up the mountain-side. The sleepers and the dreamers slept on to be waked up by the blast of the pas¬ toral horns, and at the same moment the crashing of the three hundred pitchers, and the blaze of the three hundred torches, and the shout of Israel, always terrible, which broke through the stillness of the mid¬ night air from three opposite quarters at once. In a moment the camp was rushing hither and thither in dark confusion, with the dissonant “ cries ” peculiar to the Arab race. Every one drew his sword against every other, and the host fled headlong down the descent to the Jordan, to the spots known as the House of the Acacia, and the margin of the Meadow of the Dance. Their effort was to cross the river at the fords of Bethbarah. It was immediately under the The battle mountains of Ephraim, and to the Ephraim- of Oreb. ites accordingly messengers were sent to interrupt the passage. The great tribe, roused at last, was not slow to move. By the time that they reached the river, the two greater chiefs had already crossed, and the encounter took place with the two lesser chiefs, Oreb and Zeeb. They were caught and slain: one at a wine-press, known afterwards as the wine- 382 GIDEON. Lect. XY. press of Zeeb, or the Wolf; the other on a rock, which from him took the name of the Rock of Oreb, or the Raven; round which, or upon which, the chief car¬ nage had taken place, — so that the whole battle was called in after-times, “ The slaughter of Midian at the Rock of Oreb” 1 The Ephraimites passed the Jordan, and overtook Gideon, and presented to him the severed heads. Their remonstrance at not having before been called to take part in the struggle, is as characteristic of the growing pride of Ephraim, as his answer is of the forbearance and calmness which places him at the summit of the heroes of this age. The gleaning of Ephraim in the bloody heads of those chieftains, he told them, was better than the full vintage of slaugh¬ ter, in the unknown multitudes, by the little family of Abi-ezer. He, meantime, was in full chase of his enemies. “ Faint, yet pursuing,” is the expressive description of the union of exhaustion and energy which has given the words a place in the religious feelings of mankind. Succoth and Penuel, the two scenes of Jacob’s early life, on the track of his entrance from the East, as of the Midianites’ return towards it, were Gideon’s two halting-places, — the little settlement in the Jordan valley, now grown into a flourishing town, with its eighty-seven chiefs, — the lofty watch-tower overlooking the country far and wide. At Karkor, The battle f ar in the d eser b beyond the usual range of of Karkor. ^he nomadic tribes, he fell upon the Arabian host. They 2 had fled with a confusion which could only be compared to clouds of chaff and weeds flying before the blast of a furious hurricane, or the rapid 1 Isa. x. 26. 2 Ps. lxxxiii. 9-11. See Mr. Grove on Oreb in the Diet, of Bible. Lect. XV. THE IMPORTANCE OF THE CRISIS. 383 spread of a conflagration where the flames leap from tree to tree and from hill to hill in the dry forests of the mountains; and in the midst of this were taken the two leaders of the horde, Zeba and Zalmunna. Then came the triumphant return, and the vengeance on the two cities for their inhospitalities. The tower of the Divine Vision was razed; the chiefs of Succoth were beaten to death with the thorny branches of the neighboring acacia groves. The two kings of Midian, in all the state of royal Arabs, were brought before the conqueror on their richly caparisoned dromedaries. They replied with all the spirit of Arab chiefs to Gideon, who for a moment almost gave way to his gentler feelings at the sight of such fallen grandeur. But the remembrance of his brothers’ blood on Mount Tabor steels his heart, and when his boy, Jether, shrinks from the task of slaughter, he takes their lives with his own hand, and gathers up the vast spoils, the gorgeous dresses and ornaments, with which they and their camels were loaded. How signal the deliverance was, appears from its many memorials: the name of Gideon’s altar, of the spring 1 of Harod, of the rock of Oreb, of the wine¬ press of Zeeb; whilst the Prophets and Psalmist al¬ lude again and again to details not mentioned in the history, — “ The rod of the oppressor broken as in “ the day of Midian ” 2 — the wild panic of “ the “confused noise and garments rolled in blood ” — the streams of blood that flowed round “ the rock of Oreb ” — the insulting speeches, and the desperate rout, as before fire and tempest, of the four chiefs whose names passed even into a curse, — “ Make thou 1 Mistranslated “ well” in the Au- 2 Isa. ix.4 ; x.26 ; Ps.lxxxiii. 9-11. thorized Version. 384 GIDEON. Lect. XV. “ their nobles like Oreb and Zeeb, yea, all their princes “like Zeba and Zalmunna.” But the most immediate proof of the importance of this victory was that it occasioned the first direct Royal attempt to establish the kingly office, and ren- Gideon. der it perpetual in the house of Gideon. “ Buie “ thou over us, both thou and thy son, and thy son’s “ son: for thou hast delivered us from the hand of “ Midian.” Gideon declines the office. But he reigns, notwithstanding, in all but regal state. His vast mil¬ itary mantle receives the spoils of the whole army. 1 He combines, like David, the sacerdotal and the regal power. An image, clothed with a sacred ephod, is made of the Midianite spoils, and his house at Ophrah becomes a sanctuary, and he apparently is known even to the Phoenicians as a Priest. 2 He adopts, like David, the unhappy accompaniment of royalty, polyg¬ amy, with its unhappy consequences. It is evident that we have reached the climax of the period. We feel “ all the goodness ” 3 of Gideon. There is a sweet¬ ness and nobleness, blended with his courage, such as lifts us into a higher region, — something of the past greatness of Joshua, something of the future grace of David. But he was, as we should say, before his age. The attempt to establish a more settled form of gov¬ ernment ended in disaster and crime. He himself remains as a character apart, faintly understood by others, imperfectly fulfilling his own ideas, staggering under a burden to which he was not equal. In his union of superstition and true religion, in his myste¬ rious loneliness of situation, he recalls to us one of the greatest characters of heathen history, with the additional interest of the high sacred element. “ His 1 Judg. viii. 25 (Hebrew). 2 Eus. Pr. Ev. i. 9. 3 Judg. viii. 35. Lect. XV. THE USURPATION OF ABIMELECH. 385 “ mind rose above the state of things and men; ” so we may apply to him what has been said of Scipio Africanus — “his spirit was solitary and kingly; he was “ cramped by living amongst those as his equals whom “ he felt fitted to guide as from a higher sphere; and “he retired to his native” Ophrah “to breathe freely, “ since he could not fulfil his natural calling to be a “ hero-king.” 1 The career of Gideon, so poetical, so elevated, so complete in itself, seems at first sight but unevenly combined with the impotent conclusion of the prosaic and almost secular story of Abimelech. But this story has an interest of its own, independently of the grander narrative to which it is a close sequel in the liveliness of its details. We are suddenly introduced for the first and only time in the Book of Judges to the ancient capital of the nation in Shechem. In that beautiful and Rise of venerable city, the old inhabitants had still lin- Abimelech * gered after the conquest. One of the maidens of the city had become a slave of the great Gideon, and by her he had added another son to his already numer¬ ous offspring. 2 Abimelech inherited the daring energy of his father, without his self-control and magnanimity. He determined to avail himself, on the one hand, of the growing tendency to a monarchical form of govern¬ ment (“Is it better that threescore and ten persons “ or that one reign over you ? ”); and, on the other hand, he appealed to the common element of race between himself and the subject Shechemites, like our Henry, the first Norman son of a Saxon mother, “ Kemember that I am your bone and your flesh.” 3 To this appeal they at once responded, “ He is our 1 Arnold’s Rome , iii. 314. 2 J u dg. viii. 31. 3 Ibid. ix. 2. 49 386 GIDEON. Lect. XV. brother .” From the treasury of the sanctuary, 1 which they in league with the neighboring cities had estab¬ lished, they granted him a subsidy; and with this and a body of insurgents he marched on Ophrah, where his seventy brothers still held their aristocratic court, and slew the whole family on “one stone,” probably on that same consecrated rock whence, years before, his father had thrown down the altar of Baal. It is the first recorded instance of the dreadful usage of Oriental monarchies, — “ the slaughter of the brothers of kings,” which has continued down to our own days in the Turkish Empire, and has passed long ago into Bacon’s famous proverb. To Shechem, his birthplace, and the seat of the ancient government of Joshua, of the future monarchy of Israel, Abimelech retired in triumph; and there, beside the oak whence Joshua had addressed the nation, where probably in after-days the princes of Israel were inaugurated, Abimelech re¬ ceived, the first in the sacred history, the name of King. It was in the midst of this festive solemnity that a voice was heard from the heights of Gerizim, memorable in this crisis of Shechem, but memorable also in the history of the Church, for it is the first re¬ parable of corded Parable. One only child of the family jotham. 0 f Gideon had escaped,—Jotham, who in this quaint address develops the quiet humor and sagacity of his father and grandfather, who had each turned away the wrath of their hearers by a short apologue. He from his concealment had suddenly presented himself on one of the rocky spurs that project from Gerizim over the valley, probably from the conspicu¬ ous cliff that rises precipitously above what must have been the exact situation of the ancient Shechem. From 1 See Lecture XIII. Lect. XV. PARABLE OF JOTHAM. 387 that lofty pulpit, 1 inaccessible, but audible from below, he broke forth, no doubt in the chant or loud lament in which Eastern story-tellers recite their tales, with the fable, describing the disadvantages of government and of monarchy in all countries, but drawn from the very imagery which lay beneath him at the moment. It is the earliest parable. Like all the parables of the earlier times of the Jewish nation, it turns on the vegetable world. The vine, the cedar, the thistle, 2 in the fables of Palestine, take the place which, in the fables of India or of Greece, is occupied by the talk¬ ing beasts or birds. His eye rested on that unparal¬ leled mass of living verdure in which, alone of all the cities of Palestine, Shechem is embosomed. He imag¬ ined the ancient days of the earth when all those trees were endued with human instincts and human speech, and bade his hearers listen to them as they gathered themselves together in that green council to elect their king. First (so we may fill up the outline which then must have been supplied by the actual sight of the hearers) came all the lower trees to the chief of all that grow in that fertile valley, — the venerable Olive. But the Olive could not leave his useful and noble task of supplying the sacred purposes of God and man, and remained rooted in his ancient place. Next they ap¬ proached the broad green shade of the Fig-tree. But he, too, had the delicious sweetness of his good fruit to care for, and his answer was the same as that of the Olive. Then they addressed the luxuriant Vine, as he threw his festoons from tree to tree, along the side of the hill. But the Vine clings to his appointed work of “cheering God and man,” and he, too, abjured i This was pointed out to me by Dr. 2 Judg. ix. 12 ; Isa. v. 1; 2 Kings Rosen in 1862. xiv. 9. 388 GIDEON. Lect. XV. the idle state of monarchy. One and all the nobler trees were the true likenesses of the noble race of Gideon,—in his usefulness, his sweetness, and his gayety of speech and life. It was to a lower growth that the trees must descend before they could find any that would undertake the thankless task of ruler. The Brier, the Bramble, the Thorn that crept along the barren side of the mountain, or under the cover of the walls of the vineyard or the orchard, had no loftier cares to distract him from the calling they proposed. It was the Brier, with which, doubtless then, as now in the sacrificial feast on Mount Gerizim, huge fires were kindled; and from him, useless and idle as he seemed to be, a blaze would come forth in which friends and foes alike would burn,:—a wide-spreading conflagra¬ tion which would fly from hill to hill, till it swept within its range the distant cedars of Lebanon. This was the true likeness of the worthless but fierce Abimelech, of the first tyrant of the Jewish nation. So, from the rock, the youthful Seer pronounced his curse, — in that faith¬ ful picture of the degraded politics of a degenerate or a half-civilized state, when only the worst take any con¬ cern in public interests, when all that is good and noble turns away in disgust from so thankless and vulgar an ambition. He spoke like the Bard of the English Ode, and, before the startled assembly below could reach the rocky pinnacle where he stood, he was gone. Imme¬ diately behind him (if we have rightly conjectured the spot where he stood) vast caverns open in the moun¬ tain-side. There he might halt for the moment. But he stayed not till he was far away in the south, per¬ haps beyond the Jordan. 1 1 “ lie fled to Beer.” Ewald conjee- 16, on the frontier of Moab. If this tures that it was the Beer of Num. xxi. seems too remote, it may be Beeroth, Lect. XV. INTERNAL STATE OF SHECHEM. 389 I The three years’ reign of Abimelech which follows discloses to us the interior of society in this Internal centre of Palestine. That light which the in- shechem. ventive genius of Walter Scott and the briliant exag¬ geration of Thierry threw on the complicated rela¬ tions of Anglo-Saxon and Norman long after the Conquest of England, is thrown by this simple and vivid narrative on the like relations of Canaanite and Israelite after the Conquest of Palestine. The supporters of Abimelech, as we have seen, were the native Shechemites, — the a lords ” of Shechem, as they are called, by a name specially appropriate to the native races of Canaan. 1 This remnant of the original population, with the adherents gained from amongst the conquerors, had elevated Shechem into a kind of metropolitan dignity amongst the neighboring towns; who thus formed a religious league, of which the Temple was at Shechem, under the name of Baal- Berith, or Baal of the League. Beth-Millo, Arumah, Thebez, are named as amongst the dependent cities. The Temple 2 itself was a fortress, 3 containing the Sacred Treasury. 4 Over this entangled system, Abimelech, the Bram¬ ble King, undertook to rule. He himself seems to have lived at one of the lesser towns of the league, Arumah, 5 leaving his vicegerent, Zebul, to govern his unruly kinsmen of Shechem. Zebul took advantage in the tribe of Benjamin (the modern 12 ; and the ruffians of Gibeah, Judg. Bireh), or Baalath-Beer, in Judah. xx. 5. (See Diet, of Bible , i. 146.) l Baali-Shechem, translated “ men 2 See Lecture XIII., and compare of Shechem.” It is thus used of Jer- the parallel case of Jupiter Latiaris icho, Josh. li. 4; xxiv. 11: and of at Rome. Uriah the Hittite, 2 Sam. xi. 26. The 3 Judg. ix. 46. word elsewhere is only applied to the 4 Ibid. ix. 4. warriors of Jabesh-Gilead, 2 Sam. xxi. 5 Ibid. ix. 41. 390 GIDEON. Lect. XY. of the disorganized state of the country to place troops of banditti along the tops of the neighboring Fal , of mountains to plunder the travellers through Abimeiech. Central Palestine. It was in the midst of this union of despotism and anarchy, that the Feast of the Vintage — chief among the festivals of Pales¬ tine— came on, with the usual religious pomp and merriment 1 with which it was celebrated in the Jew¬ ish Church during the Feast of Tabernacles; but at Shechem, in the precincts of the God of the League. In a population thus excited, the words of a native Shechemite fell with still greater force than those of Abimeiech himself at the commencement of what may be called this movement of the oppressed nationality. 2 He pointed out to them that Abimeiech was but half a kinsman, — “Is he not the son of Jerubbaal?”— and called upon them to choose their own native rulers, — “Serve the men of Hamor the father of “ Shechem; why should we serve him ? ” Zebul gives the alarm. By three desperate on¬ slaughts the insurrection is quelled. In the first, we see the troops of Abimeiech stealing over the moun¬ tain-tops at break of day, by the well-known tere¬ binth, and by some sacred spot called “ the navel of the land.” In the second, the main battle is fought in the wide cornfields at the opening of the valley of Shechem. 3 This ends in the rout of the native party, now deprived of their chief, and the total de¬ struction of the city of Shechem, to appear no more again till the time of the monarchy. In the third and last conflict, the remnant of the insurgents takes refuge in the lofty tower in the stronghold of the 1 Judg. ix. 27. 3 “ The field” Judg. ix. 42-44. 2 Ibid. 28. Ewald, ii. 335. Lect. XV. THE FALL OF ABIMELECII. 391 Temple of the League. Not far off was the moun¬ tain of Zalmon, 1 famous in the winter for its snow, in the summer for its shady forests. Thither the new king, with an energy worthy of his father, led his followers, axe in hand. Like a common wood¬ cutter, he hewed down a bough and threw it over his shoulder. The whole band followed the royal example; and in the smoke and flames kindled round the fortress, the insurgents perished. One other strong¬ hold of the mutiny remained, — a similar fortress at Thebez; 2 and there, too, the same expedient was tried. Men and women alike, as at Shechem, were crowded within the tower, and mounted to the top. From this eminence they commanded a full view of the besiegers; and when the fearless king ran close to the gate to fire it with his own hands, one of the women above seized her opportunity and dashed upon his head a fragment of a millstone. He fell; but in his fall remembered the dignity of himself and of his race; and, like his next successor in the regal office, invoked the friendly sword of his armor- bearer to give him a soldier’s death. In this violent end of a noble house, the nation recognized the Divine Judgment on the murderer of his brothers; in the sweeping destruction of the ancient Shechem, and the conflagration of its famous sanctuary, was recognized no less the fulfilment of the Curse of Jotham. 3 With Ahimelech expired this first abortive attempt at monarchy. In the obscure rulers, who follow, the same tendency is still perceptible. Jair 1 Zalmon, “ shady,” Judg. ix. 48 ; Tubas , on a mound among the hills, Ps. lxviii. 15 (misspelt Salmon). ten miles N. E. of Nablus. 2 Judg. ix. 50. Thebez probably 3 Judg. ix. 56, 57. survives in the modern village of O 392 GIDEON. Lect. XV and Ibzan cause their state to descend to the nu¬ merous sons of their wives or concubines; and the dignity of Abdon reaches even to his grandsons. 1 But the true King of Israel is still far in the dis¬ tance. 1 Judg. x. 9; xii. 9-14. Lect. XVI. JEPHTHAH AND SAMSON. 393 t LECTURE XVI. JEPHTHAH AND SAMSON. As Gideon is the highest pitch of greatness to which this period reaches, Jephthah and Samson are the lowest points to which it descends. In them, in different forms, the violence of the age breaks out most visibly. I. Jephthah is the wild, lawless freebooter. His ir¬ regular birth, in the half-civilized tribes he- Jephthah. yond the Jordan, is the key-note to his life. The whole scene is in those pastoral uplands. Not Bethel, or Shiloh, but Mizpeh, the ancient watch-tower which witnessed the parting of Jacob and Laban, is the place of meeting. Ammon, the ancient ally of Israel against Og> is the assailant. The war springs out of the dis¬ putes of that first settlement. The battle sweeps over the whole tract of forest from Gilead to the borders of Moab. 1 The quarrel which arises after the The Trans _ battle between the Transjordanic tribe and the Character of proud western Ephraimites, is embittered by the quarre1 ' the recollection of taunts and quarrels, then, no doubt, full of gall and wormwood, now hardly intelligible. “ Fugitives of Ephraim are ye : Gilead is among the “ Ephraimites and among the Manassites.” Was it, as l “ From Aroer ”—to the “Meadow intervening links are lost in a hopeless of the Vineyards,” Judg. xi. 33. The confusion of the text. 50 394 JEPHTHAH. Lect. XVI, Ewald conjectures/ some allusion to the lost history of the days when the half tribe of Manasseh separated from its Western brethren? If it was, the Gileadites had now their turn, — “the fugitives of the Ephraim- ites,” as they are called in evident allusion to the for¬ mer taunt, are caught in their flight at the fords of the Jordan, the scene of their victory over the Midianites, and ruthlessly slain. The test put to them was a word of which the very meaning is now doubtful, but which, familiar then from its allusion to the “ harvests ” or “floods” 2 of Palestine, has revived in the warfare of Shib _ Christian controversy, Shibboleth. Many a party boieth. watchword, many a theological test has had no better origin than this difference of pronunciation between the two rough tribes, which has thus appro¬ priately become the type and likeness of all of them. In the savage taunt of Jephthah to the Ephraimites, compared with the mild reply of Gideon to the same insolent tribe, we have a measure of the inferiority of Eastern to Western Palestine, — of the degree to which Jephthah sank below his age, and Gideon rose above it. But in his own country, as well as in the Church at large, it is the other part of Jephthah’s story which The vow. has been most keenly remembered. The fatal vow at the battle of Aroer belongs naturally to the spasmodic efforts of the age; like the vows of Samson or Saul in the Jewish Church of this period, or of Clovis or Bruno in the Middle Ages. But its literal execution could hardly have taken place had it been undertaken by any one more under the moral re¬ straints, even of that lawless age, than the freebooter 1 Ewald, ii. 419, on Judg. xii. 4. are Gilead in the midst of Ephraim This is almost equally the case if we and in the midst of Manasseh.” adopt the version of the LXX.—“Ye 2 Both explanations are given of Shibboleth. Judg. xii. 6. O Lect. XVI. HIS VOW. 395 Jephthah, nor in any other part of the Holy Land than that separated by the Jordan valley from the more regular institutions of the country. Moab and Ammon, the neighboring tribes to Jephthah’s native country, were the parts of Palestine where human sacrifice lingered longest. It was the first thought of Balak in the extremity of his terror. 1 It was the last expedient of Balak’s successor in the war with Jehosh- aphat. 2 Moloch, to whom even before they entered Palestine the Israelites had offered human sacrifices, 3 and who is always spoken of as the deity who was thus honored, was especially the God of Ammon. It is but natural that a desperate soldier like Jephthah, breath¬ ing the same atmosphere, physical and social, should make the" same vow, and having made it, adhere to it. There was no High Priest or Prophet at Xhe Sacri _ hand to rebuke it. They were far away in fice ‘ the hostile tribe of Ephraim. He did what was right in his own eyes, and as such the transaction is de¬ scribed. Mostly it is but an inadequate account to give of these doubtful acts to say that they are men¬ tioned in the Sacred narrative without commendation. Often where no commendation is expressly given, it is distinctly implied. But here the story itself trem¬ bles with the mixed feeling of the action. The de¬ scription of Jephthah’s wild character prepares us for some dark catastrophe. The admiration for his hero¬ ism and that of his daughter struggles for mastery in the historian with indignation at the dreadful deed. He is overwhelmed by the natural grief of a father. “ Oh! oh! my daughter, thou hast crushed me, thou “ hast crushed me! ” She rises at once to the gran¬ deur of her situation as the instrument whereby the 2 2 Kings iii. 27. 3 Ezek. xx. 26 ; Jer. xlix. 1. l Micali vi. 7. 396 JEPHTHAH. Lect. XYL victory had been won. If the fatal word had escaped his lips she was content to die, “ forasmuch as the “Lord hath taken vengeance of thee upon thine ene- “ mies, even the children of Ammon.” It is one of the points in Sacred History where, as before said, the likeness of classical times mingles with the He¬ brew devotion. It recalls to us the story of Idome- neus and his son, of Agamemnon and Ipliigenia. And still more closely do we draw near, as our attention is fixed on the Jewish maiden, to a yet more pathetic scene. Her grief is the exact anticipation of the lament of Antigone, sharpened by the peculiar horror of the Hebrew women at a childless death, — descend¬ ing with no bridal festivity, with no nuptial torches to the dark chambers of the grave — o) rvpfiog, w vvp&elov, povpog, ol Tropevopai . . . nal vvv ay£L pe dia x^P uv ovtcj ?m{3o)v uXeKTpov, uvvpevaiov, ovre tov yupov pipog Mxovaav, ovre ncude'iov rpotpjjg . 1 Into the mountains of Gilead she retires for two months, — plunging 2 deeper and deeper into the gorges of the mountains, to bewail her lot, with the maidens who had come out with her to greet the returning conqueror. Then comes the awful end, from which the sacred writer, as it were, averts his eyes. “He did with her according to his vow.” In her the house of Jephthah became extinct. “ She knew no man.” But for years afterwards, even to the verge of the monarchy, the dark deed was commemorated. Four days in every year the maidens of Israel went up into the mountains of Gilead, — and here the He¬ brew language lends itself to the ambiguous feeling 1 Soph. Ant. 890. 2 Judg. xi. 38 (Hebrew). Lect. XVI. HIS VOW. 39T of the narrative itself, — “ to praise ” 1 or “ to lament ” “the daughter of Jephthah the Gileadite.’ , The record which thus transparently represents the wavering thought of the Sacred Historian has re¬ ceived also the reflections of the successive stages of feeling with which the Church has subsequently re¬ garded the act. As far back as we can trace the sentiment of those who read the passage, in Jonathan the Targumist, and Josephus, and through the whole of the first eleven centuries of Christendom, the story was taken in its literal sense as describing the death of the maiden, although the attention of the Church was, as usual, diverted to distant allegorical Expiana- . ° tions of the meanings. Then, it is said, from a polemical Sacrifice, bias of Kimchi, arose the interpretation that she was not killed, but immured in celibacy. From the Jewish theology this spread to the Christian. By this time the notion had sprung up that every act recorded in the Old Testament was to be defended according to the standard of Christian morality; and, accordingly, the process began of violently wresting the words of Scripture to meet the preconceived fancies of later ages. In this way entered the hypothesis of Jeph- thah’s daughter having been devoted as a nun; con¬ trary to the plain meaning of the text, contrary to the highest authorities of the Church, contrary to all the usages of the old Dispensation. In modern times, 1 Judg. xi. 40. notare veraciter”), follows an expla- 2 After a reasonable exposition, by nation of Jephthah as “ opener ” (“ He Augustine (IH. Part i. 613), of the opened their hearts”); the land of general commendation implied in Heb. Tob (“ good ” — the land of the resur- xi. 32, 33, Judg. xi. 39, as compatible rection) ; his daughter, “the Church; ” with great faults (“ Sacra Scriptura 60 days, the 6 ages; 4 days, the 4 quorum fidem et justitiam veraciter quarters of the world; 42,000 Eph- laudat, non hineimpeditureorum etiam raimites, 6 times 7; and Jephthah’s Deccata,siquanoritetoporterejudicet, 6 years, also the 6 ages. 398 JEPHTHAH. Lect. XVI a more careful study of the Bible has brought us back to the original sense. And with it returns the deep pathos of the original story, and the lesson which it reads of the heroism of the father and the daugh¬ ter, to be admired and loved, in the midst of the fierce superstitions across which it plays like a sun¬ beam on a stormy sea. So regarded, it may still be remembered with a sym¬ pathy at least as great as is given to the heathen immolations, just cited, which awaken a sentiment of compassion wherever they are known. The sacrifice of Jephthah’s daughter, taking it at its worst, was not a human sacrifice in the gross sense of the word — not a slaughter of an unwilling victim, as when the Gaul and Greek were buried alive in the Roman Fo¬ rum ; but the willing offering of a devoted heart, to free, as she supposed, her father and her country from a terrible obligation. It was, indeed, as Josephus says, an act in itself hateful to God. But, nevertheless, it contained just that one redeeming feature of pure obe¬ dience and love, which is the distinguishing mark of all true Sacrifice, and which communicates to the whole story those elements of tenderness and nobleness well drawn out of it by two modern poets, to each of whom, in their different ways, may be applied what was said by Goethe of the first, — that at least one function committed to him was that of giving life and form to the incidents and characters of the Old Testament. “ Though the virgins of Salem lament, Be the judge and the hero unbent; I have won the great battle for thee, And my father and country are free. “ When this blood of thy giving has gush’d, When the voice that thou lovest is hushed, Lect. XVI. HIS VOW. 399 Let my memory still be thy pride, And forget not I smiled as I died/’ 1 Or, in the still more exact language of the more re¬ cent poet — “ The daughter of the warrior Gileadite, A maiden pure ; as when she went along From Mizpeh’s tower’d gate with radiance light With timbrel and with song. • • • • • 44 4 My God, my land, my father — these did move ‘ Me from my bliss of life, that Nature gave, ‘ Lower’d softly with a threefold cord of love, 4 Down to a silent grave. 44 4 And I went mourning,’ 4 No fair Hebrew boy 4 Shall smile away my maiden blame among 4 The Hebrew mothers ; ’ emptied of all joy, 4 Leaving the dance and song, 44 4 Leaving the olive-gardens far below, 4 Leaving the promise of my bridal bower, 4 The valleys of grape-loaded vines that glow 4 Beneath the battled tower. 44 4 When the next moon was roll’d into the sky, 4 Strength came to me, that equall’d my desire — 4 How beautiful a thing it was to die 4 For God and for my sire! ' 4 4 It comforts me in this one thought to dwell, 4 That I subdued me to my father’s will; 4 Because the kiss he gave me, ere I fell, 4 Sweetens the spirit stilL t « • • • 44 4 Moreover, it is written that my race 4 Hew’d Ammon, hip and thigh, from Aroer 4 On Arnon unto Minnith.’ ” . . .2 II. From the lawlessness of Jephthah on the ex¬ treme eastern frontier of Palestine, we pass to Samson. 1 Lord Byron’s Hebrew Melodies. 2 Tennyson’s Poems , 197. 400 SAMSON. Lect. XVI a manifestation of the same tendency in a different, but not less incontestable form, on the extreme west¬ ern frontier. At the same time the new enemies, in whose grasp we now find the Israelites, remind us that we are approaching a new epoch in their history; that which is to close the period on which we are now engaged. “ The Philistines ” present themselves to our notice, The Phi- if not absolutely for the first time, yet for the listmes. £ rg £ £* me ag a p 0 wer f u i an d hostile nation. In the original conquest by Joshua, they are hardly mentioned. Their name appears to indicate their late arrival, — u the Strangers; ” 1 and the scattered indica¬ tions of their origin lead to the conclusion that they were settlers from some foreign country, from Asia Minor and its adjacent islands, probably from Crete . 2 With this agree the notices of their character and pursuits. Like the Cretans, they were employed as mercenaries. Like the Cretans, too, they were distin¬ guished amongst the marauding tribes for the strength and variety of their armor. The most complete vo¬ cabulary of arms that exists in the Old Testament is taken from the panoply of a Philistine warrior . 3 Un¬ like the rest of the inhabitants of Canaan, they were 1 The LXX. throughout the Pen¬ tateuch and Joshua keep the Hebrew word $v?aoTiet(j., but in all the sub¬ sequent books translate it aKkotyvkot “ aliens.” Comp. alAoTptav, Heb. xi. 34. (Ewald, i. 292-294.) 2 In Gen. x. 14,1 Chron. i. 12, they are derived, together with Caphtorim, from Casluhim, son of Mizraim ; and in Amos ix. 7, Deut. ii 23, Jer. xlvii. 4, from Caphtor. Caplitor by the LXX. is rendered Cappadocia. But probably the country directly or in¬ directly intended is Crete. Cherethite and Philistine , in Zeph. ii. 5, Ezek. xxv. 16, 1 Sam. xxx. 14, and appar¬ ently 2 Sam. xx. 23, 2 Kings xi. 4, 19, are used as synonymous terms; and this is confirmed not only by the characteristics mentioned in the text, but by the confused statement of Ta¬ citus that the Jews themselves came from Crete (Hist. v. 2), and by the name of Minoa given to Gaza (Steph. Byz.). 3 1 Sam. xvii. 5-7. Lect. XVI. THE PHILISTINES. 401 uncircumcised, and appear to have stood on a lower level of civilization. They were almost, it may be said, the laughing-stock of their livelier and quicker neigh¬ bors, from their dull, heavy stupidity; the easy prey of the rough humor of Samson, or the agility and cun¬ ning of the diminutive David. The older Avites whom they dispossessed, probably occupied the southern part of the country , 1 generally called in the Patriarchal History “ the valley of Gerar.” Possibly the Philistines may have been called in by them as allies against the invading Israelites, and then, as in the ancient fable , 2 made themselves their mas¬ ters. Possibly, also, they may have become so closely incorporated with them, as to produce that interchange of names which, in some of the Sacred Books , 3 has identified the earlier with the later race. The gigan¬ tic stature, too, which marks some of the Philistine families, may have arisen from their connection with the aboriginal giants, who fingered in the maritime plains 4 after their expulsion from the nations. In these maritime plains, the “ Shefela ” 5 or a Low Country,” as it was called, on the south-west of Ca¬ naan, was their original seat after their first settle¬ ment ; and in this situation lay their security, as that of the northern Phoenicians, against the mountain in¬ fantry of Israel. Chariots and horses with them, as with their Phoenician neighbors on the north, and their Egyptian neighbors on the south, formed their chief strength. Unlike the Phoenicians, they were indisposed to commerce. Of the three possible har¬ bors on their unbroken fine of sandy coast near 1 Deut. ii. 23; Josh. xiii. 3. 2 Comp. Ewald, i. 310. 3 As in Gen. xxi. 34, xxvi. 18; Ex. 4 Josh. xi. 22. xv. 14 ; xiii. 17. 5 Sinai and Palestine , 256. 51 402 SAMSON. Lect. XVI, Gaza, Ascalon, and Jabneel, they made no use. The only traces of their maritime 1 origin and situation were to be found in their worship. The chief deity was the fish god Dagon , 2 whose image was that of the trunk of a fish with the head and hands of a man. Some slight indications of the architecture of his chief temple are given, its door-way , 3 and its two massive pillars, supporting the roof and standing sufficiently close together to be embraced at once . 4 The traces of his worship were scattered throughout the country; in the numerous “ houses of Dagon ,” 5 of which the names still linger in different parts of the south of Palestine. A similar form was ascribed to the female divinity, Derceto , 6 who in their mythology took the place of Astarte. The only other special deity of the Philistines known to us, is Baal-Zebub , 7 “the Lord of “ the Flies,” who had a sanctuary in Ekron, as Dagon and Derceto had theirs in Ashdod, Gaza, and Ascalon . 8 These, with Gath, formed the original federation of the nation; each raised on its slight eminence above the plain, and ruled by its own king or prince. Their main support, and the main value of their country, lay in the vast corn-fields, which almost without a break reached from the sandy shore to the foot of the Judaean hills; and which even to the Israelites furnished a resource in case of famine . 9 Such were the Philistines, the longest and deadliest enemies of the Chosen People, whose hostilities, commencing in 1 In the LXX. version of 1 Sam. v. 6, it is said that “ the hand of the Lord brake out against their ships.” But this may be a misreading. 2 1 Sam. v. 4. The word is the same as in the river Tagus. 3 1 Sam. v. 5. 4 Judg. xvi. 25-29. 5 Josh. xv. 41 ; and see Diet, of Bible , “ Beth-Dagon.” 6 Diod. Sie. ii. 4. 7 2 Kings i. 2-16. 8 Judg. xvi. 23; 1 Chron. x. 10; 1 Macc. x. 84. 9 2 Kings viii. 2. Lect. XVI. AS A NAZARITE. 403 the close of the period of the Judges, lasted through the two first reigns of the monarchy, and were not finally extinguished till the time of Hezekiah , 1 and who yet, by a singular chance, have, through the con¬ tact of the Western world with their strip of coast> succeeded in giving their own name of u Philistia ” or “ Palestine /’ 2 properly confined within that narrow strip, to the whole country occupied by Israel. Of all the tribes of Israel, that on which these new comers pressed most heavily was the small tribe of Dan, already straitened between the mountains and the sea, and communicating with its seaport Joppa only by passing through the Philistine territory. Out of this tribe, accordingly, the deliverer came. It was Birth of in Zorah , 3 planted on a high conical hill over- Samson - looking the plain, which from its peculiar relation to these hills was called “ the root of Dan ,” 4 that the birth of the child took place, who was by a double tie connected with the history of this peculiar period, as the first conqueror of the Philistines, and as the first recorded instance of a Nazarite. In both respects he was the beginner of that work which a far greater than he, the Prophet Samuel, carried to a completion. But what in Samuel were but subordinate functions, in Samson were supreme, and in him were further united with an eccentricity of character and career that gives him an absolutely singular position amongst the Israelite heroes. It was, as we have remarked, the age of vows, and it is implied in the account that such special The Naza _ vows as that which marked the life of Sam- ntes ' 1 2 Kings xviii. 8. listia. (See Palestine, in Diet, of 2 “ Palestine ” was the Gentile Bible.) name for the Holy Land. In the 3 Robinson, B. R. iii. 153. A. V. it is always used for Phi- 4 See Sinai and Palestine, 278. 404 SAMSON. Lect. XVI. son were common. The order of Nazarites, which we find actually described in the code of the Mosaic Law, was already in existence. It was the nearest approach to a monastic institution that the Jewish Church contained . 1 It was, as its name implies, a sep¬ aration from the rest of the nation, partly by the ab¬ stinence from all intoxicating drink, partly by the retention of the savage covering of long flowing tresses of hair. The order thus begun continued to the latest times. Not only was Samuel thus devoted, but Elijah in outward appearance was under the same rule; in the time of Amos, there was a flourishing institution of Nazarites ; 2 and at the very close of the Jewish Church there were at least two who bore in their habits and aspect the likeness of the earliest of these ascetics — John , 3 the son of Zachariah, the aus¬ tere preacher in the wilderness, and Jacob, or James , 4 the Bishop of the Christian Church at Jerusalem. It was as the first fruits of this institution, no less than as his country’s champion, that the birth of Samson is ushered in with a solemnity of inauguration which, whether we adopt the more coarse and literal repre¬ sentation of Josephus , 5 or the more shadowy and re¬ fined representation of the Sacred narrative, seems to announce the coming of a greater event than that which is comprised in the merely warlike career of the conqueror of the Philistines. Wherever the son of Manoah appeared in later life, Hisaus- he was always known by the Nazarite mark, tenty. Like the Merovingian kings, whose long tresses 1 See Ewald, Alterthumer , 97, &c. sents “ the angel ” or “man of God ” a Amos ii. 11. as a youth of transcendent beauty, who 3 Luke i. 15. excites the frantic jealousy of Ma- 4 Hegesippus, in Euseb. H. E. ii. 23. noah. 5 Josephus (Ant. v. 8, §§ 2,3) repre- Lect. XVI. HIS HUMOR. 405 were the sign of their royal race, which to lose was to lose royalty itself, —like the hierarchy of the Eastern Church, whose long beards are in like manner the inalienable sign of their priestly functions, — so the early vow of Samson’s mother was always testified by his shaggy, untonsured head, and by the seven sweep¬ ing locks , 1 twisted together, yet distinct, which hung over his shoulders • and in all his wild wanderings and excesses amidst the vineyards of Sorek and Timnath he is never reported to have touched the juice of one of their abundant grapes. But these were his only indications of an austere life. It is one of the many distinctions be- His tween the manners of the East and West, be- humor * tween ancient and modern forms of religious feeling, that the character of the Jewish chief who most nearly resembles the founder of a monastic order should be the most frolicsome, irregular, uncultivated creature, that the nation ever produced. Not only was celibacy no part of his Nazarite obligations, but not even ordinary purity of life. He was full of the spirits and the pranks, no less than of the strength, of a giant. His name, which Josephus interprets in the sense of “ strong,” was still more characteristic. He was u the Sunny,” — the bright and beaming, though wayward likeness of the great luminary which the Hebrews delighted to compare to a “ giant rejoic¬ ing to run his course,” “a bridegroom coming forth “ out of his chamber .” 2 Nothing can disturb his radiant good-humor. His most valiant, his most cruel actions, are done with a smile on his face, and a jest in his mouth. It relieves his character from the stern¬ ness of Phoenician fanaticism. As a peal of hearty 1 Judg. xvi. 13. 2 Psalm xix. 5. 406 SAMSON. Lect. XYI. laughter breaks in upon the despondency of indi¬ vidual sorrow, so the joviality of Samson becomes a pledge of the revival of the greatness of his nation. It is brought out in the strongest contrast with the brute coarseness and stupidity of his Philistine enemies, here, as throughout the Sacred History, the butt of Israelitish wit and Israelitish craft. Look at his successive acts in this light, and they assume a new significance. Out of his first achieve¬ ment he draws the materials for his playful riddle. His second and third achievements are practical jests on the largest scale. The mischievousness of the con¬ flagration of the corn-fields, by means of the jackals, is subordinate to the ludicrousness of the sight, as, from the hill of Zorah, the contriver of the scheme must have watched the streams of fire spreading through corn-fields and orchards in the plain below. The whole point of the massacre of the thousand Philistines lies in the cleverness with which their clumsy triumph is suddenly turned into discomfiture, and their discomfiture is celebrated by the punning turn of the hero, not forgotten even in the exultation or the weariness of victory. “ With the jawbone of 66 an ass have I slain one mass , two masses ; with the “ jawbone of an ass I have slain an onload of men .” 1 The carrying off the gates of Gaza derives all its force from the neatness with which the Philistine watchmen are outdone , 2 on the very spot where they thought themselves secure. The answers with which he puts off the inquisitiveness of Delilah derive their vivacity from the quaintness of the devices which he suggests, and the ease with which his foolish enemies fall into 1 So the original may be repre- 2 Judg. xvi. 2, 3. sented : Judg. xv. 16. Lect. XYI. LOCAL COLORING OF HIS LIFE. 407 them, trap after trap, as if only to give their conqueror amusement. The closing scenes of his life breathe, throughout, the same terrible, yet grotesque irony. When the captive warrior is called forth, in the mer¬ riment of his persecutors, to exercise for the last time the well-known raillery of his character, he appears as the great jester or buffoon of the nation; the word employed expresses alike the roars of laughter and the wild gambols with which he " made them sport; ” and as he puts forth the last energy of his vengeance, the final effort of his expiring strength, it is in a stroke of broad and savage humor that his indignant spirit passes away. " 0 Lord Jehovah, remember me now; " and strengthen me now, only this once, 0 God, that " I may be avenged of the Philistines ” [not for both “ of my lost eyes — but] " for one of my two eyes.” That grim playfulness, strong in death, lends its par¬ adox even to the act of destruction itself, and over¬ flows into the touch of triumphant satire with which the pleased historian closes the story; “ The dead "which he slew at his death were more than they " which he slew in his life.” These are the general features of Samson’s life. The sudden breaks in the narrative, 1 showing more Local col- clearly than elsewhere the imperfect state in his n i?fe° which the history of these times has come down to us, warn us off from a too close scrutiny of its de¬ tails. But there is no portion of the sacred story more stamped with a peculiarly local color. Unlike the heroes of Grecian, Celtic, or Teutonic romance, whose deeds are scattered over the whole country or the whole continent where they lived — Hercules, or 1 Such are the gaps between Judg. xiii. 24 and 25; between xv. 20 and xvi. 1 . (Ewald, ii. 529, &c.) 408 SAMSON. Lect. XVI. Arthur, or Charlemagne, — the deeds of Samson are confined to that little corner of Palestine in which was pent up the fragment of the tribe to which he be- Thecham- longed. He is the one champion of Dan. To pion of Dan. an y one? mus t b e the reference in the blessing of Jacob; “ Dan shall judge his people as one of the tribes of Israel.” In his biting wit and cunning ambuscades, which baffled the horses and chariots of Philistia, must probably be seen “ the ser- “ pent by the way, the adder in the path, that hiteth “ the horse’s heels, so that his rider shall fall back- “ wards.” 1 It was at a spot well known in the history of his His first tribe — in Mahaneh-Dan, or the “ Camp of S! m Dan ” — that the first aspirations of his career showed themselves. There, underneath the mountains of Judah, the little band which broke away to the north at the commencement of this stormy period, had pitched their first encampment, 2 and there also was the ancestral burial-place of his family. 3 Amongst his fathers’ tombs, and amidst the recollections of his fathers’ exploits, “ the Spirit of Jehovah began to “ move him ” — to strike, as the expression implies, on his rough nature 4 as on a drum or cymbal, till it resounded like a gong through his native hills. Then began what were literally his “descents” of His local l° ve an d of war upon the plain of Philistia exploits. f r0 m Zorah on the hills above. The vines on the slopes of these hills, the vineyards of Timnath and of Sorek, were famous throughout Palestine. It 1 Gen. xlix. 16, 17. 3 Judg. xvi. 31. 2 Judg. xiii. 25; xviii. 12; Josh. 4 Ibid. xiii. 25 (Hebrew), xv. 33. See Lecture XIII. Lect. XVI. HIS GRAVE. 409 was probably amongst these, as the maidens whom the Benjamites surprised amongst the vineyards of Shiloh, that he met both his earliest and his latest love. The names of the surrounding villages bear traces of the wild animals whom he encountered, and used as instruments of his great exploits — Lebaoth (“ the lionesses”), 1 Shaalbim (“the jackals”), 2 Zorah (“ the hornets ”). The corn-fields of Philistia — then, as now, interspersed with olive-groves, 3 then, also, with vineyards — lay stretched in one unbroken expanse before him, to invite his facetious outrage. Once he wandered beyond the territory of his own tribe, and that of his enemies, but it was only into the neigh¬ boring hills of Judah. In some deep cleft, such as doubtless could easily be found in the limestone hills around the vale of Etam (the Wady Urtas), he took refuge. The Philistines then, as afterwards in David’s time, had planted a garrison in the neighborhood. 4 The lion of Judah was cowed by their presence. “ Knowest thou not the Philistines are rulers over us ? ” Out of the cleft he emerges, and sweeps them away with the rude weapon that first comes to hand. The spring and the rock which witnessed the deed, 5 though now lost, were long pointed out as memorials of the history. The scene of his death is the His grave, great Temple of the Fish God at Gaza, in the ex¬ tremity of the Philistine district. But his grave was 1 Josh. xv. 32, 33 ; Judg. i. 35. , fare a mortal outrage. (Burckhardt, 2 It is said that jackals exist, or did 331.) xist, in great numbers, in the plain 3 Judg. xv. 5. f Ramleh, where they were hunted 4 J u dg. xv. 7; 2 Sam. xxiii. 14. down and thrown into the sea. (Has- 5 The connection between the story selquist, 115-277.) To set fire to the and tlie place is indicated in the name aarvest of an enemy is in Arab war- “ Lehi,” or “ Jawbone,” Judg. xv. 9, 15, 16, 17, 19. 52 410 SAMSON. Lect. XVI. in the same spot which had nourished his first youth¬ ful hopes. From the time of Gideon downwards, the tombs of the Judges have been carefully specified. In no case, however, does the specification suggest a more pathetic image, than in the description of the funeral procession, in which the dead hero is borne by his brothers and his kinsmen, “ up ” the steep ascent to his native hills, and laid, as it would seem, beside the father who had watched with pride his early deeds, “ between Zorah and Eshtaol, in the burial-place of Manoah his father.” The arrangement of the narrative into its separate parts — the manner in which the humor, the strength, the headstrong rashness of Samson are worked up to the catastrophe — have not unnaturally suggested to the great Hebrew critic of our age the supposition that the story may even in early times have been wrought into a dramatic poem. But it is a remark¬ able proof of the latent force of the Biblical history, that a series of incidents and characters so peculiarly local, so abruptly and faintly depicted, should yet have furnished to our own poet the materials for a drama, which not only, as has been before observed, is the best likeness in modern form of the ancient classical tragedies, but is also, beyond any other of his works, interwoven with the modern experiences of his own eventful life. Even in Milton’s earlier days he seems to have Milton’s dwelt with unusual pleasure on the gran- the story, deur and the fall of Samson, as the image of what he most admired and most cherished in the troubled world of English politics; as when he thinks that he “ sees in his mind a noble and puissant na¬ tion rousing herself like a strong man after sleep Lect. XVI. MILTON’S USE OF THE STORY. 411 “ and shaking her invincible locks; ” 1 or as when, in more elaborate style, he draws out the fine allegory, specially suitable to his own times, but, with slight mod¬ ifications, applicable also to the general relations of rulers and Churches: — “ I cannot better liken the “ state and person of a king than to that mighty “ Nazarite, Samson ; who, being disciplined from his “ birth in the precepts and the practice of temper- “ ance and sobriety, grows up to a noble strength “ and perfection, with those his illustrious and sunny “ locks, the Laws, waving and curling about his god- “ like shoulders. And, while he keeps them undimin- “ ished and unshorn, he may with the jawbone of an “ ass, that is, with the word of his meanest officer, “ suppress and put to confusion thousands of those “ that rise against his just power. But laying down “ his head amongst the strumpet flatteries of prelates, “ while he sleeps and thinks no harm, they wickedly “ shaving off all those bright and weighty tresses of “ his laws and just prerogatives, which were his orna- “ ment and his strength, deliver him over to indirect “ and violent councils, which, as those Philistines, put “ out the fair and far-sighted eyes of his natural mind, u and make him grind in the prison-house of their “ sinister ends, and practise upon him; till he, know- “ ing this prelatical razor to have bereft him of his “ wonted might, nourish again his puissant hair, the “ golden beams of law and right, and they, sternly “ shook, thunder with ruin upon the heads of those “ his evil counsellors, but not without great affliction “ to himself.” 2 The richness of the story becomes still more evi- 1 “ Speech for the Liberty of un- 2 “ Reasons of Church Govern- iicensed Printing,” i. 324. ment,” i. 149. 412 SAMSON. Lect. XVI. dent when we see the austere The Milton derived from it in Samson Agonistes blindness and poverty and dignant sense of public and private consolation which the sufferings of age, and the in¬ wrong : — “ O loss of sight, of thee I most complain ! Blind among enemies, O worse than chains, . . . I, dark in light, exposed To daily fraud, contempt, abuse, and wrong. O dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon, Irrecoverably dark, total eclipse, Without all hope of day! ” “ God of our fathers ! what is man, That thou towards him with hand so various; Or might I say, contrarious, Temper’st thy Providence through his short course, Not evenly, as thou rul’st The angelic orders and inferior creatures mute, Irrational and brute; Nor do I name of men the common rout, That wandering loose about Grow up and perish, as the summer fly, Heads without name, no more remembered; But such as thou hast solemnly elected, With gifts and graces eminently adorned, To some great work, thy glory, And people’s safety, which in part they effect: Yet toward those thus dignified, thou oft, Amidst their height of noon, Changest thy countenance, and thy hand . . . Nor only dost degrade them, or remit To life obscured, which were a fair dismission, But throw’st them lower than thou didst exalt them high.” O And we may well end this troubled period with that grand conclusion, with which, after . . . “ Samson hath quit himself Like Samson, and heroically hath finished A life heroic,” Lect. XVI. MILTON’S USE OF THE STORY. 418 the Chorus consoles his sorrowing kindred:— “ All is best, though we oft doubt, What the Unsearchable dispose Of Highest Wisdom brings about, And ever best found in the close. Oft He seems to hide His face, But unexpectedly returns, And to His faithful champion hath in place Bore witness gloriously; whence Gaza mourns, And all that band them to resist His uncontrollable intent; His servants He, with new acquist Of true experience from this great event, With peace and consolation hath dismissed, And calm of mind all passion spent.” 414 THE FALL OF SHILOH. Lect. XVII. LECTURE XVII THE FALL OF SHILOH. To the crash of the Philistine Temple, and the silent burial of Samson, succeeds a blank in the sacred history, such as well serves to indicate its fragmentary character. When we again take up the thread, the existing condition of the nation gives us a backward glimpse into some of the unrecorded in¬ cidents of the lost interval. 1 We find at the head of the nation a man, of whose rise nothing has been told: Eli, at once Judge and High Priest, already far advanced in years. This sudden apparition reveals, that, in the dark period The change preceding, there has been a change in the Priesthood. order of the Priesthood. Eli is not of the regular house of Eleazar, 2 the eldest son of Aaron, in which the succession ought to have continued. There has been a transfer to the house of the younger and comparatively obscure Ithamar, which had struck such deep root, that it continued, in spite of the agitations of the period, till its final overthrow in the reign of Solomon. The transfer had been made since the ap¬ pearance of Phinehas, who is the last legitimate High 1 I have forborne to enlarge on the Ewald (Ii. 475) with Jael of Judg. v. history of the obscurer Judges, Tola, 6, and with Jair, of Eastern Manasseh. Jair (Judg. x. 1-5), Elon, Abdon Bedan has been variously connected (Ibid. xii. 11-15), Bedan (1 Sam. with Barak, Abdon, and Samson, xii. 11). Jair has been identified by 2 1 Cbron. vi. 4-15; xxiv. 4. Lect. XVII. UNION OF JUDGE AND PRIEST. 415 Priest we can trace. The Rabbinical commentators allege that the change took place because of the share of Phinehas in the sacrifice of Jephthah’s daughter. Can this be possibly some faint reminis¬ cence of a tradition indicating the submersion of the house of Eleazar in the general disorder of the age, of which that dark event was undoubtedly a conse¬ quence ? It appears, further, that the Philistines had been repulsed from the position which they had occupied in the time of Samson. 1 Was this effected through some heroic deed of Eli’s youth? And did this raise him to the office of High Priest or of Judge ? Such a supposition is rendered probable by the union of Warrior and Priest in Phinehas ; and a like transference of the Pontificate from a like cause appears in the only other time of the history when it reaches to a like eminence, — when the Priestly house of the Maccabees became also the rulers of. their countrymen. In the union of Judge and Priest in Eli we have a gradual approximation to the consolidation union of of power in the monarchy. It was the only Priest, part of what is commonly called “the theocratic period,” in which the government was theocratic in the modern sense of the word — that of Priestly government, of ecclesiastical supremacy and indepen¬ dence, such as has been occasionally advocated by the Christian Church. But this very peculiarity is not the culmination of the Mosaic period, so much as a temporary transition to the next stage of the second history, when the powers of Priest and Ruler were indeed united, not however in the person of the High Priests, but of the Kings and Princes of Judah. 2 1 1 Sam. iv. 1 . 2 Kings vi. 14, 17, 18; 2 Sam. xx. 2 See (in Hebrew and LXX.) 26; viii. 17, 18; Ps. cx. 1-11. 416 THE FALL OF SHILOH. Lect. XYII. The reign of Eli, therefore, combines in a remark¬ able manner the fall of the old and the rise of the new order. Of all the portions of the sacred history this is the one which most clearly sets before us, in the light which precedes its final overthrow, the sanctuary of Shiloh. Shiloh. The ancient tent of Shiloh — me¬ morial of the old nomadic state, containing the Ark, the relic of Mount Sinai — has been already de¬ scribed. Tombs, which still remain in a rocky val¬ ley near the site of the ancient town, had been hewn in the steep sides of the hill. A city (as in the case of Micah’s rival sanctuary, but here doubt¬ less on a larger scale), had sprung up round it. 1 The sanctuary itself was so encased with buildings, as to give it the name and appearance of a a house ” or “ temple.” 2 As in Micah’s sanctuary, there was a gateway, 3 with a seat inside the doorposts or pillars which supported it. 4 It was the “ seat,” or “ throne,” of the ruler or judge (as afterwards in the Palace of Solomon). Here Eli sat on days of religious or po¬ litical solemnity, and surveyed the worshippers as they came up the eminence on which the sanctuary was placed. To this consecrated spot pilgrims and worshippers The wor- were attracted, as to the religious centre of shippers, their country, at the yearly feast, the chief feast of the year — that of “ The Bowers,” or “ Tab¬ ernacles,” which coexisted with the Festival of the vintage. The sides of the valley in which Shiloh lay 1 1 Sam. iv. 13. on the supposition that the words 2 Ibid. i. 9 ; iii. 3. are used with intentional exactness. 3 Judg. xviii. 16, 17. The word They may, however, have been (like used in 1 Sam. i. 9, for “ post,” is the the phrase in 1 Sam. iv. 4) transferred same as that in Ex. xii. 7 ; xxi. 6 ; from the later Temple. Deut. vi. 9, for “door-post.” This is 4 1 Sam. i. 9 ; iv. 13, 18. Lect. XVII. THE WORSHIPPERS OF SHILOH. 417 were clothed with vineyards, and in these vineyards the maidens of Shiloh came out to dance, and the whole population, of pilgrims and of the inhabitants, men and women alike, gave themselves up to the usual merriment of eating and drinking. 1 In this miscellaneous assemblage, were to be seen worshippers of the most various characters. One group of frequent occurrence, year by year, was that of Elkanah, from the neighboring hills of Eikanah. Ephraim, with his numerous family. He is a rare instance of polygamy amongst the common ranks of the nation. It may have been one of the results of the disordered state of the times. It may have arisen (as still in the Samaritan sect) from the barrenness of one of his two wives. His sacri¬ fice on these occasions was looked forward to in his house as a grand feast in which every mem¬ ber of the family had a portion of the sacrificial offerings. But it is on one individual of the house that our attention is specially fixed: his best beloved Hannah, but childless wife, who bears the Phoenician name 2 which now first appears, “Hannah,” or “Anna;” af¬ terwards thrice 3 consecrated in the sacred story. She was herself almost a prophetess and Nazarite. 4 She is the first instance of silent prayer. Her song of thanksgiving is the first hymn, properly so called, — the direct model of the first Christian hymn of “ the Magnificat,” the first outpouring of individual as distinct from national devotion, the first indication of 1 Judg. xxi. 19-21; 1 Sam. i. 9, i. 9.) Anna, the daughter of Phanuel 13, 14. (Luke ii. 36) ; Anna, the wife of Jo- 2 l “ Anna,” the mother of Dido. achirn, the traditional mother of the 3 Anna, the wife of Tobit; (Tobit Virgin. 4 1 Sam. i. 15; ii. 1. 53 418 THE FALL OF SHILOH. Lect. XVII. the coming greatness of the anointed king, 1 whether in the divine or human sense. To this group is at last added the child, who Samuel. though of no Priestly tribe, was consecrated to a more than Priestly office, 2 with the offerings of three bullocks, flour, and a skin of wine, and who from his earliest years ministered in the sacred vest¬ ments within the Tabernacle itself, the future inau- gurator of the new period of the Church. Other pilgrims were there of a far other kind; and the eyes of others than the aged Eli were fixed Hophni upon them. Hophni and Phinehas, his two nehas. sons, are for students of ecclesiastical history, characters 66 of great and instructive wickedness.” They are the true exemplars of the grasping and worldly clergy of all ages. It was the sacrificial feasts that gave occasion for their rapacity. It was the dances and assemblies of the women in the vine¬ yards, and before the sacred tent, 3 that gave occasion for their debaucheries. They were the worst devel¬ opment of the lawlessness of the age; penetrating, as in the case of the wandering Levite of the book of Judges, into the most sacred offices. But the coarseness of their vices does not make the moral less pointed for all times. The three-pronged fork which fishes up the seething flesh is the earliest type of grasping at pluralities and church-preferments by base means; the open profligacy at the door of the Tab¬ ernacle is the type of many a scandal brought on the Christian Church by the selfishness or sensuality of its ministers. An additional touch of nature is given by the close connection of these Priestly vices 1 1 Sam. ii. 10. The first mention 2 2 Chron. xiii. 9 ; 1 Sam. i. 24. of the Messiah. 3 J u dg. xxi. 21 ; 1 Sam. ii. 22. Lect. XVII. THE DOOM OF THE HOUSE OF ITIIAMAR. 419 with the weak indulgence of Eli, and the blameless purity of Samuel. The judgment which falls on the house of Ithamar is the likeness of the judgment which has followed the corruption and the nepotism of the clergy everywhere. It was to begin with the alienation of the people from the worship of the sanctuary — it was to end in a violent revolution which should overthrow with bloodshed, confiscation, and long humiliation the ancient hereditary succes¬ sion and the whole existing hierarchy of Israel. 1 "Men abhorred the offerings of the Lord.” ... "I “ said indeed that thy house and the house of thy " father should walk before me forever. But now " the Lord saith, ‘ Be it far from me.’ ‘ All the in- “‘ crease of thy house shall die " by the sword.” ’ “ Every one that is left in thine house shall crouch to “ him for a piece of silver, and a morsel of bread, and 66 shall say, Put me, I pray thee, into one of the " priests’ offices, that I may eat a piece of bread.” The judgment, of which the earliest indication comes from some unknown prophet, is first solemnly announced from an unexpected quarter, and in a form which shows that the thunders and lightnings, the oracular warnings, of the older period, are about to be superseded by " a still small voice ” of a wholly different kind. It was night in the sanctuary. As afterwards in the great Temple, so now, the High Priest slept in The doom one of the adjacent chambers, and the attend- Jouseof ant ministers in another. In the centre, on Ithamar ' the left of the entrance, stood the seven-branched candlestick, 2 now mentioned for the last time; super- 1 1 Samuel ii. 17, 29, 30, 33, 36 2 Ex. xxv. 31; xxxvii. 17,18; Lev (LXX.). xxiv. 3 ; 2 Chron. xiii. 11. 420 THE FALL OF SHILOH. Lect. XYII seded in the reign of Solomon, by the ten separate candlesticks, but revived after the Captivity by the copy of the one candlestick with seven branches, as it is still seen on the Arch of Titus. It was the only light of the Tabernacle during the night, was solemnly lighted every evening, as in the devotions of the Eastern w T orld, both Mussulman and Christian, and extinguished just before morning, when the doors were opened. 1 In the deep silence of that early morning, before the sun had risen, when the sacred light was still burning, came, through the mouth of the innocent child, the doom of the house of Ithamar. The first blow in the impending tragedy came from the now constant enemy of Israel. The Philis¬ tines revived their broken strength. The conflict took place at a spot near the western entrance of the The battle P ass Beth-horon, known by the name of of Aphek. Aphek, but in later times — from the memory of a victory which effaced the recollection of this dark day, — “ Eben-Ezer.” 2 A reverse roused the alarm of the Israelite chiefs. In that age, as in the Mediaeval period of the Christian Church, to which we have so often compared it, the ready expedient was to turn the sacred relics of religion into an engine of war. The Philistines themselves were in the habit of bring¬ ing the images of their gods to the field of battle. 3 To these must be opposed the symbol of the Divine Presence in Israel, the Ark of the Covenant. Such an application of the Ark was not without example before or after; but it is evidently described as against the higher spirit of the religion which it was intended A 1 1 Sam. iii. 15; 1 Chron. ix. 27. *2 See Lecture XVIII. 3 2 Sam. v. 21. Lect. XVII. THE DEATH OF ELI. 421 to support. Hophni and Phinehas were with it as representatives of the Priestly order. To the profli¬ gate vices of their youth they joined the sin of super¬ stition also. Their appearance with the Ark roused as with a spasmodic effort the sinking spirit of the army. The well-known cheer of the Israelites — terri¬ ble to their enemies at all times — ran through the camp so that “ the earth rang again/’ 1 and the Phi¬ listines were roused to the last pitch of desperate courage in resisting, as they thought, this new and Divine enemy. On that day the fate of the house of EH was to he determined. It was the crisis of the nation. It was, as the Philistines expressed it, to decide whether the Philistines were to be the slaves of the Hebrews, or the Hebrews of the Philistines. On the success of this wager of battle, the Priestly rulers of the nation had staked the most sacred pledge of their religion. The whole city and sanctuary of Shiloh waited for the result in breathless expectation. Two above all others, Eli and the wife of Phinehas, were wrapt in dreadful expectation, — he blind and feeble with age, — she near to the delivery of her second child. In the evening of the same day there rushed The tid- i *ii ip i * n " s through the vale of Shiloh a youth from the defeat, camp, one of the active tribe of Benjamin, — his clothes torn asunder, and his hair sprinkled with dust, as the two Oriental signs of grief and dismay. 2 A loud wail, like that which on the announcement of any great calamity, runs through all Eastern towns, rang through the streets of the expectant city. The aged High Priest was sitting in his usual place be¬ side the gate-way of the sanctuary. He caught the 1 1 Sam. iv. 5. 2 Ibid. iv. 12. 422 THE FALL OF SHILOH. Lect. XVII cry; he asked the tidings. He heard the defeat of the army; he heard the death of his two sons; he heard the capture of the Ark of God. It was this The death last tidings, “ when mention was made of the of Eh. Ark 0 f that broke the old man’s heart. He fell from his seat and died in the fall. The news spread and reached the home of Phine- The birth has. The pangs of labor overtook the widow of ichabod. f a p en Priest. Not even the birth of a living son could rouse her. “ Their Priests/’ 1 as the Psalmist long afterwards expressed it, “ had fallen, and their widows made no lamentation.” With her as with her father-in-law, her whole, soul was absorbed in one thought, and with her last breath she gave to the child a name which should be a memorial of that awful hour, — “ I-chabod,” “ The glory is departed ; for “ the Ark of God is taken.” “ The Ark of God was taken.” These words ex- The cap- pressed the whole significance of the calamity. tivity of . the Ark. It was known, till the era oi the next great, and still greater overthrow of the nation, at the Babylonian exile, as “ the Captivity.” “ The day of the captivity ” was the epoch which closed the irregu¬ lar worship of the sanctuary at Han. 2 “He delivered his strength into captivity , and his glory,” 3 (that “ glory” of the Divine Presence, which was commemorated in the name of I-chabod) “into the enemy’s hand.” The Septuagint title of the 96th Psalm, “when the house of God was built after the captivity; ” and the allusion in the 68th Psalm, “Thou hast led captivity captive,” 4 most probably refer to the period of these disasters. 1 1 Sam. iv. 19, 20; Ps. lxxviii. 3 Ps. lxxviii. 61. The word, how- 64. ever, is different. 2 Judg. xviii. 30. 4 p s . Lxviii. 18. Lect. XVII. THE RETURN OF THE ARK. 423 The grief of Israel may be measured by the tri¬ umph, not unmingled with awe, of the Philistines. It was to them as if they had captured Jehovah Him¬ self; and a custom long continued in the sanctuary of Dagon in their chief city of Ashdod, to commemo¬ rate the tradition of the terror which this new Pres¬ ence had excited. The priests and the worshippers of Dagon would never step on the threshold, 1 where the human face and human hands of the Fish God had been found broken off from the body of the statue as it lay prostrate before the superior Deity. The elaborate description, too, of the joy of the re¬ turn marks the deep sense of the loss. In The Re- ... turn of the the border land of the two territories, m the Ark. vast corn-fields, 2 under the hills of Dan, the villagers of Beth-shemesh at their harvest, see the procession winding through the plain, the Philistine princes mov¬ ing behind, the cart conveying the sacred relic, drawn by the two cows, lowing as they advance towards the group of expectant Israelites, who “ lifted up their eyes and saw the ark, and rejoiced to see it.” The great stone 3 on which the cart and the cows were sacrificed, was long pointed out as a monument of the event. But even the restoration of the Ark was clouded with calamities; and when from Beth-shemesh it mounted upwards through the hills to Kirjath-jearim, and was lodged there in a little sanctuary, with a self-conse¬ crated Priest of its own, there was still a longing sense of vacancy; whilst it remained “ in the fields “ of the wood,” 4 there was 66 no sleep to the eyes or “ slumber to the eyelids ” of the devout Israelite. 66 It 1 1 Sam. v. 5. According to the of Beth-shemesh, see Kennicott’s Ob- LXX. “ they leaped over it.” servations on 1 Sam. vi. 19. He re- 2 Robinson, B. R. ii. 225-9. duces them from 50,070 to 70. 3 1 Sam. vi. 18. For the numbers 4 Ps. cxxxii. 5,6, (jearim =■ woods). 424 THE FALL OF SHILOH. Lect. XVII u came to pass while the ark was at Kirjath-jearim, “ that the time was long; for it was twenty years; “ and all the house of Israel lamented after the “ Lord.” 1 It was the first pledge of returning hope; but the hope was still long deferred; and meanwhile the catastrophe was branded into the national mind by Overthrow overthrow of the sanctuary itself of Shi- 0 f sinioh. * n w p L { c ] 1 the Ark had since the conquest found its chief home. We catch a distant glimpse of massacre with fire and sword; of a city sacked and plundered by ruthless invaders. “ He gave his people “ over to the sword ; and was wroth with his inheri- “ tance. The fire consumed their young men, their “ maidens were not given to marriage ” 2 The details of the overthrow are not given; partly perhaps be¬ cause the sanctuary gradually decayed when the glory of the Ark was departed; partly from the imperfect state of the narrative, which may itself have been caused by the silent horror of the event. Shiloh is casually mentioned twice or thrice 3 in the later his¬ tory. But the reverence had ceased. The Tabernacle, under which the Ark had rested, was carried off, first to Nob, and then to Gibeon, with the original brazen altar 4 of the wilderness. The place became desolate, and has remained so ever since. “ Thou shalt see “ thine enemy in my habitation ” The name became a proverb for destruction and desolation. “ I will do “ to this house as I have done to Shiloh.” “ Go now 1 1 Sam. vii. 2. 3 Ahijah the Shilonite (1 Kings xi. 2 Ps. lxxviii. 62, 63. May not this 29). Pilgrims “from Shiloh” (Jer. be taken literally of the Philistines xli. 5). Possibly “ Ahijah . . . priest burning their Israelite prisoners alive? in Shiloh” (1 Sam. xiv. 3, LXX.). That this was a Philistine custom ap- 4 1 Sam. xxi. 1; 1 Sam. vii. 1; 2 pears from Judg. xv. 6. Chron. i. 5; v. 5. Lect. XVII. OVERTHROW OF THE SANCTUARY. 425 " unto my place which was at Shiloh; . . . and see "what I did to it for the wickedness of my people "Israel” "I will make this house like Shiloh ... a " curse to all the nations of the earth .” 1 The very locality became so little known that it had to be speci¬ fied carefully in the following centuries in order to be recognized. " Shiloh, which is in the land of Canaan? " which is on the north side of Bethel , on the east side " of the highivay that goeth up from Beth-el to Shechem, " and on the south of Lebonah .” 2 It is only this exact description, thus required by the very extremity of its destruction, which enabled a traveller from Amer¬ ica , 3 within our own memory, to rediscover its site, to which the sacred name still clung with a touching tenacity forgotten for centuries, and known only to the savage peasants who prowl about its few broken ruins. So ended the period, defined as that during which " the house of God was in Shiloh .” 4 So ended the period of the supremacy of the tribe of Ephraim, whose fall is described, in the Psalm which unfolds their for¬ tunes, as involved-in the fall of Shiloh — "He forsook " the tabernacle of Shiloh, the tent that He had pitched " among men. He refused the tabernacle of Joseph, " and chose not the tribe of Ephraim ” 5 So ended the still wider period of the first division of the his¬ tory of the Chosen People, in the overthrow of the first sanctuary by the Philistines, as the second divis¬ ion and overthrow was to terminate in the fall of the second sanctuary, the Temple of the Jewish mon- ,rchy, by the armies of Babylon; and the third in 1 Jer. vii. 12, 14 ; xxvi. 6. 3 Seilun was first rediscovered by 2 Judg. xxi. 12,19. See Ewald, ii. Dr. Robinson in 1838. 423. 4 Judg. xviii. 31. 5 Ps. lxxviii. 60, 67. 54 426 THE EALL OF SHILOH. Lect. XYII the still vaster destruction of the last Temple of Jeru¬ salem by the armies of Titus. The revival of the nation from the ruins of the first sanctuary must be reserved for the rise of the Second Period of the Jewish Church, when “ the Lord was to awake as one “out of sleep 1 . . . and choose the tribe of Judah, “the Mount Zion which He loved.” Only we may still include within this epoch the great name of Sam¬ uel, and the great office of Prophet, which was to unite the old and the new together, under the shelter of which was to spring up the new institutions of the monarchy — a new tribe, a new capital, a new Church, with new forms of communion with the Almighty, now for the first time named by the name of “ the “Lord of Hosts.” 1 Ps. lxxviii. 65, 68. SAMUEL AND THE PROPHETICAL OFFICE. XYIII. SAMUEL. XIX. THE HISTORY OF THE PROPHETICAL ORDER. XX. THE NATURE OF THE PROPHETICAL TEACHING. SPECIAL AUTHORITIES FOR THE LIFE OF SAMUEL 1. 1 Sam. i-xxviii. (Hebrew and LXX.) ; 1 Chron. xxix. 29 ; Ps. xcix. 6; Jer. xv. 1; Ecclus. xlvi. 13-20; Acts iii. 24, xiii. 20; Heb. xi. 32. 2. Jewish traditions (Jos. Ant. v. 10-vi. 14); Fabricius, Cod. Pseude- pigr. Vet. Test. 895-903. 3. Mussulman traditions (D’Herbelot, under Aschmouyl ) ; and Weil’s Biblical Legends , 144-151. 4. Christian traditions (Acta Sanctorum , Aug. 20). SAMUEL AND THE PROPHETICAL OFFICE. LECTURE XVIII. SAMUEL. The fall of the sanctuary of Shiloh was the ter¬ mination of the first period of Jewish history close which had lasted from Moses to Eli. It had Theocracy, been a period varied and shifting in detail, but with this common feature, — that it was a time of wan¬ dering and of strife, of danger and of deliverance, of continual and direct dependence on the help of God alone, with no regular means of government, or law, or army, or king, to ward off the enemies that were constantly assailing them from without, or to repress the disorders that were constantly disturbing them from within. The Judges themselves were regarded as invested with something of a divine or God-like character; the more so perhaps from their solitary and strange elevation above all around them. A new selection of Judges is described as “ a choosing of new Gods ;” 1 and the two last of the series are especially dignified with the name of “ God .” 2 This period, called on these accounts by Josephus u the 1 Judg. v. 8. him. Samuel,in 1 Sam.xxviii. 13, “I 2 Eli, in 1 Sam. ii. 25 — The Judge “ saw gods ( Eloihim ).” Compare Ps. (Heb. “ the God,” Elohim) shall judge lxxxii. 1, 2, 6. 430 SAMUEL. Lect. XVIII. Theocracy” or “ Aristocracy,” 1 was now at an end. The wanderings were at last over, and the battle was at last won. The desire of the people was stimulated by its nearer insight into the customs of the sur¬ rounding nations to have a ruler like to them; the coming change had already, as we saw in the times Beginning of the Judges, made itself felt by the gradual archy. approximation to such an institution m the lives of Jair and Abdon, Gideon and Abimelech, Eli and Samuel. All these indications were at last to re¬ ceive their full accomplishment in the inauguration of a fixed, hereditary, regal government, in the person of the first king — "Behold the king whom ye have " chosen, and whom ye have desired. Behold, the “ Lord hath set a king over you.” Now, therefore, was to begin that second period, that new and untried future, which was to last for another five hundred years — the period of the Monarchy. Was it possible that an institution which had begun in wilfulness and distrust would ripen into a just and holy law? would the establishment of armies, and officers of state, and king succeeding king, as a matter of course, without any sudden call or mission, — would the growth of 4 poetry, and architecture, and music, and all the other arts which spring up under an established rule,— would the secure dwelling of every man under his own vine and fig-tree, — would these and many like changes destroy or confirm, diminish or expand, the faith which had hitherto been the safety of the Chosen People ? Would the true Theocracy, the government of God, be weakened or strengthened, now that in name it was withdrawn ? Was this great stride in earthly civilization inconsistent with the preservation 1 Jos. Ant. vi. 3, §§ 2, 3. Lect. XVIII. EPOCH OF HIS APPEARANCE. 431 of the ancient primeval religion of Abraham, and Moses, and Joshua ? Such were the questions which actually would arise in the mind of any thoughtful Israelite at Transition, this crisis. They are questions which, in some form or other, arise at every like crisis in the progress of the Church. It must be reserved for the discussion of the history of the Monarchy to point out how these natural fears were in part justified, but yet on the whole rendered futile, by the actual results of the change. In the Kings of Israel and Judah we shall see the first exhibition of that union of regal and priestly excellence, which was to be completed in a yet diviner sense, only in the final stage of the sacred history. We shall trace in the victories of the hosts of Israel the first complete establishment of the new and great name of God, — “ The Lord of Hosts,” “Jehovah Sabaoth.” In the Psalms of David, in the Temple of Solomon, and in the Prophecies of Isaiah, we shall recognize a fuller communion with God, even than on the holy mountain of Sinai, or in the speaking face to face with Moses as with a friend. But those blessings were still in the distance. We are yet on the threshold. It will, however, be useful * here to describe the influences first of the indi¬ vidual and then of the office, which were raised up to guide the Jewish Church (and, by example, the Christian Church) through this or any like transitions. In this crisis of the Chosen People, second only in importance to the Exodus, there appeared a leader, second only to Moses. Amidst the wreck of the an¬ cient institutions of the country, amidst the rise and growth of the new, there was one counsellor to whom 432 SAMUEL. Lect. XVIII. all turned for advice and support — one heart to Rise of which “ the Lord ” especially “ revealed Him- Samuei. self.” The life and character of Samuel, 1 covers the whole of this period of perplexity and doubt. The two books which give an account of the first establishment of the Monarchy are called by his name, as fitly as the books which give an account of the establishment of the Theocracy are called by the name of Moses. At this close of the first period of the Jewish history, and on the eve of the second period, it will be necessary to draw forth those points in his character and appearance which specially fitted him for this position. As in the case of all the ear¬ lier characters of the Jewish Church, we must be content with an uncertainty and dimness of percep¬ tion; we must not expect to form a complete por¬ traiture of either the man or his history. But the general effect of the whole career is sufficiently clear, and on that alone I propose to dwell. I. First, then, observe precisely what his position was, and how he filled it. He was not a Founder of a new state of things like Moses, nor a champion His connec- of the existing order of things like Elijah or the past. Jeremiah. He stood, literally, between the two — between the living and the dead, between the past and the future, between the old and the new, with that sympathy for each which, at such a period, is the best hope for any permanent solution of the questions which torment it. He had been brought up and nurtured in the ancient system. His child¬ hood had been spent in the Sacred Tent of Shiloh, 1 This name has been variously ex- Sam. vii. 9). Josephus (Ant. v. 10, § plained. The sacred narrative seems 3) ingeniously translates it by the to waver between “ asked of God ” (1 well-known Greek name of “ Theae- Sam. i. 17) and “heard of God” (1 tetus.” Lect. XYIII. THE LAST OF THE JUDGES. 433 the last relic of the Wanderings in the Desert. His early dedication to the sanctuary belonged to that age of vows, of which we saw the excess in the rash and hasty vows of Jephthah, of Saul, and of the assembly at Mizpeh; in the more regular, but still peculiar and eccentric devotion of Samson to the life of a Nazarite. As he grew up, devoted by his mother, herself almost a Nazarite, 1 secluded from the world in his linen ephod, his long locks flowing over his shoulders, on which no razor was ever to pass, 2 perhaps we may add, abstaining from all wine and strong drink, 3 he must have presented a likeness, civilized and tamed indeed, but still a likeness, of the wild Danite cham¬ pion who rent the lion, and smote the Philistines with the jawbone of an ass — he must have been a living memorial of past times, far into a new generation which knew such things no more. He was also a Judge, of the ancient generation, the last of the Judges, the last of that long succes- Thelastof sion who had been raised up from Othniel theJud s es - downwards to effect special deliverances. In the over¬ throw of the sanctuary of Shiloh, and the disasters which followed, we hear not what became of Samuel. 4 He next appears, after an interval of many years, suddenly amongst the people, warning them against their idol¬ atrous practices. He convened an assembly at Miz¬ peh — probably the place of that name in the tribe of Benjamin — and there with a symbolical rite, expressive partly of deep humiliation, partly of the libations of a treaty, they poured water on the ground, they fasted, 1 See Lecture XVII. swer to the prayers of the nation on 2 1 Sam. i. 11. the overthrow of the sanctuary and 3 LXX.; Ibid. loss of the ark (D’Herbelot, Axvh- 4 According to the Mussulman tradi- mouyl). This, though false in the let- tion, Samuel’s birth is granted in an- ter, is true to the spirit of Samuel’s life. 55 434 SAMUEL. Lect. XVIII and tney entreated Samuel to raise the piercing shrill cry, for which his prayers were known, in supplication to God for them. It was at the moment that he was offering up a sacrifice, 1 and sustaining this loud cry, that The battle the Philistine host burst suddenly upon them. A ezer. violent thunderstorm, and (according to Jose¬ phus) 2 an earthquake, came to the timely assistance of Israel. The Philistines fled, and, exactly at the spot where twenty years before they had obtained their great victory, they were totally routed. A huge stone was set up, which long remained as a memorial of Samuel’s triumph, and gave to the place its name of Eben-ezer, “the Stone of Help,” which has thence passed into Christian phraseology, and become a common name of Puritan saints and Nonconformist chapels. 3 The old Canaanites, whom the Philistines had dispossessed in the outskirts of the Judaean hills, seem to have helped in the battle, and “there was peace between “ Israel and the Amorites.” 4 A large portion of lost territory in the plain of Philistia was recovered. The battle of Eben-ezer—the first, and, as far as we know, the only direct military achievement of Samuel — marked as it was by the first return of victory to the arms of Israel after the fall of Shiloh, was apparently the event which raised him to the office of “ Judge.” There, in the same way as “Jerubbaal, and Bedan, “and Jephthah,” 5 with whom he is thus classed, he won his title to that name, then the highest in the nation. He dwelt in his own birthplace, and, like Gideon, or like Micah, made it a sanctuary of his own. There was still no central capitol. Shiloh was gone, 1 Compare the situation of Pausa- 3 i Sam. vii. 12. nias before the battle of Plataea, Herod. 4 Ibid. 14; comp. Judg. i. 34, 35. ix. 11. 5 Ibid. xii. 11. 2 Ant. vi. 2, § 2. Lect. XVIII. THE LAST OF THE JUDGES. 435 Shechem was gone, and Jerusalem was not yet come All was as of old, yet uncertain and unfixed. The per¬ sonal, family bond was stronger than the national. He went from year to year, indeed, in solemn circuit to the ancient sanctuaries 1 within his own immediate neighborhood — “ Bethel, and Gilgal, and Mizpeh ” — and “judged Israel in all those places.” But “his re- “ turn ” was always to Ramah ; “ for there was his “ house, and there he judged Israel, and there he built “ an altar unto the Lord.” As yet “ there was no king “ in Israel — he did what was right in his own eyes ” His sons, as in the case of those of Jair and Abdon, shared the power with him, though at the remote southern sanctuary of Beersheba; 2 and in their corrupt practices he lived to see a repetition of the scandals of Hophni and Phinehas. He was, as it might have seemed, but as one of the old chiefs of the bygone age — half warrior, half sage. Like the Levite who dwelt in the sanctuary of Micah, but on a grander scale, he was consulted throughout the neighborhood His orac _ as an oracle for any of the vexations or difficul- ularfame - ties of common life. 3 In him we see the last example of the custom which was “ beforetime in Israel when “ men went to inquire of God ” 4 about these matters. An ass would have gone astray on the mountains, or an expedition in search of a settlement would need to be blessed, and the inquirers would come with the ever- recurring present (bakhshish) of the Oriental supplicant —loaves of bread, or the fourth part of a shekel of sil¬ ver, 5 or the offer of a good place in the new settlement. 6 1 1 Sam. vii. 16. b ttugl tolc jjyiaa- 4£VG>4 TOVTOIC, LXX. 2 Ibid. viii. 1-4. This is a re¬ markable instance of the fairness of the narrative. 3 1 Sam. ix. 6. 4 Ibid. ix. 9. 5 Ibid. ix. 7, 8. 6 Judg. xviii. 19. 436 SAMUEL. Lect. XVIII An awful reverence for the ancient times thus grew up around him. His long-protracted life was like the shadow of the great rock of an older epoch projected into the level of a modern age. " He judged Israel " all his life: ” even after the Monarchy had sprung up, he was still a witness of an earlier and more primitive state. Whatever murmurs or complaints had arisen, were always hushed for the moment before his pres¬ ence. They leaned upon him, they looked back to him even from after-ages, as their fathers had leaned upon Moses. A peculiar virtue was believed to reside in his intercession. In later times he was conspicuous amongst those that " call upon the name of the Lord,” 1 and was thus placed with Moses as "standing” (in the special sense of the attitude for prayer 2 " before the Lord.” His prayer It was the last consolation that he left in his of interces¬ sion. parting address, that he would “pray to the " Lord ” 3 for the people. With the wild scream or shriek of supplication which has been already noticed on the eve of his first battle, he would " cry” in agitated moments, "all night long unto the Lord,” and thus seem to draw down, as if by force, the Divine answer. " Cease not to cry to the Lord for us.” " And Samuel cried unto the Lord . . . and” (as if with a special ref¬ erence to the meaning of his name, "asked” or "heard” of God) "the Lord heard him.” 4 No festive or solemn occasion was complete without his presence. " The " people will not eat until he come, because he doth " bless the sacrifice; and afterwards they eat that be " bidden.” 5 His coming was a signal for mingled fear and joy. The elders of Bethlehem "trembled at his 1 Ps. xcix. 6 ; comp. 2 Sam. xii. 16. 2 Jer. xv. 1. 3 1 Sam. xii. 17, 23. 4 1 Sam. xv. 11; vii. 8, 9. 5 Ibid. ix. 13. Lect. XVIII. THE FIRST OF THE PROPHETS. 437 “coming, and said, ‘Comest thou peaceably?’ And he “said, c Peaceably: I am come to sacrifice unto the Lord. “‘ Sanctify yourselves, and come with me to the sac- “ ( rifice.’ ” 1 When we read of that apparition, in which he was evoked after death, as he had been known in life, there was something terrific, yet venerable, in his aspect; “ I see a god ascending out of the earth.” 2 His outwa rd His long Nazarite hair, now white with age, 3 a PP earance - marked him from a distance to he the old gray-headed seer. The little mantle 4 which his mother gave him, reaching down to his feet, had from his earliest years marked him out as an almost royal personage ; and the same peculiar robe, in extended proportions, wrapped round him, was his badge to the end. On its skirt Saul had laid hold when he had last parted from Sam¬ uel at Gilgal. By its folds, he recognized him in the vision at Endor. II. Such was Samuel, as the last representative of the ancient mediaeval Church of Judaism. But The first of i i the order of there was another relation inseparably blended prophets, with this, in which he must be regarded as the first representative of the new epoch which was now dawn¬ ing on his country. He is explicitly described as “ Sam¬ uel the Prophet.” “ All the prophets from Samuel and “those that follow after!' “He gave them judges until “ Samuel the Prophet ” 5 We have already seen the lower and more limited sense, in which he might be so called, as the oracle of his neighborhood or of his country in the various difficulties, great or small, which drove them to consult him. We are even enabled to observe the 1 1 Sam. xvi. 4, 5. ently used throughout for Samuel’s 2 Ibid, xxviii. 13. dress, 1 Sam. ii. 19; xv. 27; xxvlii. 3 Ibid. xii. 2. 14. See “ Mantle ” in Diet, of Bible. 4 The Hebrew word me-il , persist- 5 Acts iii. 24 ; xiii. 20. 438 SAMUEL. Lect. XVIII. special means by which he received the revelations which thus first gained for him the reverence of his countrymen. “ By dreams, by Urim, and by prophets,” we are told, 1 were the three especial channels by which in those days “ the Lord answered ” to those that in¬ quired of Him. By the first of these, we can hardly doubt, it is intended to be intimated that Samuel re¬ ceived and delivered his early warnings. “The word of “ the Lord was precious in those days — there was no “ open vision.” 2 It was in the stillness of the night, just before the early dawn, that Samuel first heard Revelation. the Divine Voice. That voice and those visions still continued. “The Lord revealed himself to Samuel” 3 It is, with perhaps one exception, the earliest instance of the use of the word which has since become the name for all Divine communication. “The Lord mir “ covered the car” — such is the literal expression; a touching and significant figure, taken from the man¬ ner in which the possessor of a secret moves back the long hair of his friend, and whispers into the ear thus laid bare the word that no one else may hear. It is a figure which precisely expresses the most universal and philosophical idea conveyed by the term “ Revelation ,” thence appropriated in the theological language both of East and West. “The Father of Truth” (says an em¬ inent scholar, indicating his own use of this phrase to describe the mission of the Semitic races) “ chooses “ His own prophets, and He speaks to them in a voice “stronger than the voice of thunder. It is the same “inner voice through which God speaks to all of us. “ That voice may dwindle away, and become hardly “audible; it may lose its divine accent and sink into “ the language of worldly prudence; but it may also 1 1 Sam. xxviii. 6. 2 Ibid. iii. 1. 3 Ibid. iii. 21. Lect. XVIII. “SAMUEL THE SEER.” 439 “from time to time assume its real nature with the “chosen of God, and sound into their ears as a voice “ from Heaven. A ‘ divine instinct ’ would neither be “an appropriate name for what is a gift or grace ac- “ corded hut to few, nor would it he a more intelligible “ word than ‘ special Revelation.’ ” 1 Through these revelations, the child first and then the man, became “ Samuel the Seer.” By that « Samuel ancient name, older than any other designa- the Seer ” tion of the Prophetic office, he was known in his own as in after-times. “ I am the Seer ,” was his answer to those who asked, “ Is the Seer here ? ” “ Where is “ the Seer's house ? ” 2 “ Samuel the Seer ” is the name by which he is known in the books of Chronicles, as the counsellor of Saul and David. 3 And, as if in a distorted reminiscence of his peculiar gift of second sight, — of insight into the secrets of Heaven and of the future,—Samuel is the character selected in Mussul¬ man traditions as the first revealer of the mvsteries i/ of the nocturnal flight of Mahomet from Mecca to Jerusalem. 4 But it was in a much higher and more important sense than as a mere “ seer” of visions, that Samuel appears as preeminently “ The Prophet.” The passages already quoted from the New Testament in¬ dicate to us, and Augustine in his “ De Civitate Dei,” s has well caught the idea, that he is the beginning of that Prophetical dispensation, which ran parallel with the Monarchy from the first to the last king, and to¬ gether with it forms the essential characteristic of the whole of the coming period. “ Hoc itaque tern pus, ex “ quo Sanctus Samuel prophetare coepit, et deinceps 1 Quoted from the same Essay of 3 1 Chron. ix. 22; xxvi. 28. Professor Muller already cited in Lee- 4 Weil’s Legends, 145. ture I. p. 17. 5 Civ. Dei , xvii. 1. 2 1 Sam. ix. 11, 18,19. 440 SAMUEL. Lect. XVIII The Schools of the “ donee populus Israel in Babyloniam captivus ducere- “ tur .... totum est tempus Prophetarum.” 1 It was from Samuel’s time that the succession was never broken. Even the Mussulman legends delight to make him the herald of all the Prophets, down to the last, that were to come after him. In many ways does this origination of the line of Prophets centre in Samuel. We may trace back to him the institution even in its outward form and fashion. In his time we first hear of what in modern phraseology are called the Schools of Prophets. p ie p r0 ph e ts. Whatever be the precise mean¬ ing of the peculiar word, which now came first into use as the designation of these companies, it is evi¬ dent that their immediate mission consisted in utter¬ ing religious hymns or songs, accompanied by musical instruments — psaltery, tabret, pipe and harp, and cym¬ bals. 2 In them, as in the few solitary instances of their predecessors, the characteristic element was that the silent seer of visions found an articulate voice, gushing forth in a rhythmical flow, which at once riveted the attention of the hearer. 3 These, or such as these, were the gifts which under Samuel were now organized, if one may so say, into a system. The spots where they were chiefly gathered, even in latter times, were more or less connected with their founder; Bethel and Gilgal. But the chief place where they appear in his own lifetime is his own birthplace and residence, Ramah, Ramathaim-zophim, “ the height,” “ the double height of the watchmen.” From this or from some neighboring height they might be seen descending, in a long line or chain, 4 which gave its 1 See Lecture XIX. 4 The word used is Chebel , “ rope,” 2 1 Sam. x. 5 ; 1 Chron. xxv. 1-8. “ string ” (LXX. x°P°c) 5 1 Sam. x. 5, 3 See Lecture XIX. 10. Lect. XVIII. THE SCHOOLS OF THE PROPHETS. 441 name to their company, with “psaltery, harp, tabret, pipe, and cymbals.” Or by the dwellings, the leafy huts as they were in later times, on the hill-side — “ Naioth in Ramah ” — they were settled in a congre¬ gation 1 (such is the word in the original), a church as it were within a church, and “ Samuel stood appointed 2 over them.” Under the shadow of his name they dwelt as within a charmed circle. From them went forth an influence which awed and inspired even the wild and reckless soldiers of that lawless age. 3 Amongst them we find the first authors distinctly named, in Hebrew literature, of actual books which descended 4 to later generations, and gathered up the recollections of their own or of former times. Song, and music, and dance were interwoven in some sacred union, difficult for us to conceive in these western or north¬ ern regions, yet not without illustrations even at the present day from the religious observances of Spain and of Arabia. But, unlike the dances of Seville and Cairo, the mystical songs and ecstasies of these Pro¬ phetic Schools were trained to ends much nobler than any mere ceremonial observance. Thither in that age of change and dissolution Samuel gathered round him all that was generous and devout in the people of God. David, the shepherd warrior and wandering outlaw — Saul, the wild and wayward king — Heman, 1 LXX. ttjv kKKljjmav, 1 Sam. xix. Judges, Ruth, the Pentateuch, and 20. even the two books which bear his 2 E iarrjKei nadeoTriicdg ; 1 Sam. xix. name. But of the authorship of 20. these writings there is no express 3 1 Sam. xix. 20, 21. mention, and therefore no decisive 4 The Psalms of David, and the proof, however much he may, with biographies written by Samuel, Gad, probability, be supposed to have con and Nathan. (1 Chron. xxix. 29.) tributed towards the composition of Various books of the Old Testament some of them. nave been ascribed to Samuel — the 56 442 SAMUEL. Lect. XVIII the grandson of Samuel himself/ chief singer, after¬ wards, in David’s court, and known especially as the king’s seer — Gad, the devoted companion of David in his exile — Nathan, his stern reprover in after-times, and the wise counsellor of David’s wise son — all, how¬ ever different their characters and stations, seem to have found a home within those sacred haunts, all caught the same divine inspiration; all were, for the time at least, drawn together by that invigorating and elevating atmosphere. I may be forgiven, if for a moment before dwelling in detail on what belongs to the special age and country, I call attention to the fact that this is the first direct mention, the first express sanction, not merely of regular arts of instruction and education, but of regular societies formed for that purpose — of schools, of colleges, of universities. Long before Plato had gathered his disciples round him in the olive grove, or Zeno in the Portico, these institutions had sprung up under Samuel in Judea. It is always interesting in ecclesiastical history to in¬ dicate the successive moments at which the successive ideas and institutions, afterwards to be developed, first came into existence. And here, in Oxford, it is im¬ possible not to note with peculiar interest the rise of these, as they may be truly called, the first places of regular religious education. They present to us, even in detail, the same fixedness of local continuity, which so remarkably distinguishes our schools and universities from the shifting philosophical societies of Greece; at Bethel and at Gilgal, if not at Kamah, the schools of the Prophets are found in the time of Elijah where they were in the time of Samuel, even 1 Son of Joel, 1 Cliron. vi. 33 ; xv. 17 ; xxv. 5. Lect. XVIII. THE SCHOOLS OF THE PROPHETS. 443 as our own university, and our own colleges, still flourish on the ground chosen ages ago by Alfred and by Walter de Merton. They present to us, also, so far as we know anything of their constitution, something of the same large influence, so often ob¬ served amongst ourselves; the effect exercised rather by the general atmosphere and society of the place, than by its special instructions. Of the information imparted by Samuel, or by the fathers of the school of the Prophets, 1 we know hardly anything. We see only that there was a contagion of goodness, of en¬ thusiasm, of energy, which even those who came with hostile or indifferent minds, such as Saul and the messengers of Saul, found it almost impossible to resist; they, too, were wrapt into the vortex of in¬ spiration, and the by-standers exclaimed with astonish¬ ment, “ Is Saul also among the prophets ? ” How like to the spell exercised by the local genius of our English Universities, insensibly, unaccountably exer¬ cised over many, who would not be able to say how or whence they had gained it; how like to the in¬ fluences passing to and fro amongst us, for good or evil, from the example, the characters, the spirit of our companions; far more potent than lectures, or precepts, or sermons. “I have learned much from my “ Masters, more from my companions, most of all “ from my scholars.” 2 And, further, if this be so, the peculiar circumstances of the rise of the Pro¬ phetic Schools of Israel may well point out The Pro . to us one special object, at least, of all such ^of™ 18 ' seats of education everywhere. To mediate SamueL between the old and the new; to maintain a current i See Lecture XIX. 2 Sayings of a Rabbi quoted in Cowley’s Davideis , Notes, p. 40. 444 SAMUEL. Lect. XVIII. of independent thought and feeling amidst the pres¬ sure of lower influences; to distinguish between that which is temporal and that which is eternal — this is the mission of institutions like ours; this was the mission of Samuel, and of the schools of which he was the Founder. Let us take these points in their order. 1. To mediate between the old and the new. — This, His media- as I have before intimated, was indeed the tween the peculiar position of Samuel. He was at once new. the last of the Judges and the inaugurator of the first of the Kings. Take the whole of the nar¬ rative together; take the story first of his opposition, and then of his acquiescence, in the establishment of the monarchy. Both together bring us to a just im¬ pression of the double aspect in which he appears; of the two-sided sympathy which enabled him to unite together the passing and the coming epoch. The misdemeanors of his own sons — the first appearance in them of the grasping avaricious 1 character which in later ages has thrown so black a shadow over the Jewish character — precipitated the catastrophe which had been long preparing. The people demanded a king. Josephus describes the shock to Samuel’s mind, cc because of his inborn sense of justice, because of “ his hatred of kings, as so far inferior to the aris- “ tocratic rule, which conferred a godlike character on " those who lived under it.” 2 For the whole night he lay, we are told, fasting and sleepless, in the depths of doubt and perplexity. In the visions of that night, 3 and the announcement of them .on the following day, is given the dark side of the new in- 1 Their crimes were bribery and ex¬ orbitant usury, 1 Sam. viii. 4 (LXX.). 2 Ant. vi. 3, § 3. 3 Ibid. Lect. XVIII. HIS MEDIATION. 445 stitution. On the other hand, his acceptance of the change is no less clearly marked in the story of his reception of Saul. In the first meeting no word is breathed to break the impression that God 1 is with the new Euler, and, in his final coronation as king, there is no check to the joy with which the whole nation, and, according to the Septuagint, Samuel him¬ self, “rejoiced greatly.” 2 In the final address is rep¬ resented the mixed feeling with which, after having forewarned and struggled and resisted, he at last bows to the inevitable course of events, and retires gradually to make room for a new order, of which he could but partially understand the meaning. He parted from the people, not with curses, but with blessings: “ God forbid that I should sin against the “ Lord by ceasing to pray for you; but I will teach “ you the good and the right way.” He parted from Saul, not in anger, but in sorrow. “ Nevertheless “ Samuel mourned for Saul.” He who had begun by denouncing the Monarchy as fraught with evil, ended by becoming the protector and counsellor of him who was to be its chief glory and support. 3 Out of the dark period in which his early years had been spent, arose through his interposition a higher and a nobler life. To Saul succeeded David and Solomon; and in their reigns was seen a fulfilment of God’s kingdom such as could not be understood by those to whom there was no king in Israel, who did what w 7 as right in their own eyes; to whom the Psalms were as yet unknown; to whom Prophecy came only by imper¬ fect and distant glimpses; to whom the highest type of the Messiah’s reign in the person of David and his son was a thing inconceivable. 1 1 Sam. x. 7 2 Ibid. xi. 15. 3 Ibid. xii. 23 ; xv. 35. 446 SAMUEL. Lect. XVIII Such an epoch of perplexity, of transition, of change, as that which witnessed the passage from the first age of the Jewfish Church to the second, has been rarely experienced in any age of the Church since. Yet there have been times more or less simi¬ lar; the passage from every generation to the one that succeeds has difficulties more or less correspond¬ ing. In every such passage there may be or there ought to be characters more or less like that of Samuel, if the transition is to be safely effected. Of all the characters in the old dispensation, Samuel has in later times, both by friends and opponents, been the most often misrepresented and misunderstood. Of all characters in later times, those who undertake the difficult task of Samuel are the most likely to be misunderstood or misrepresented still. They are at- tacked from both sides; they are charged with not going far enough or with going too far; they are charged with saying too much or with saying too little; they are regarded from either partial point of view, and not from one which takes in the whole. They cannot be comprehended at a glance like Moses or Elijah or Isaiah, and therefore they are thrust aside. There have been those who have trod the same thankless path in former times of the Christian Church. Athanasius, in the moderate counsels of his old age, in his attempts to reconcile the contending factions of Christians in the Council of Alexandria, was, for this reason, fitly regarded by Basil as the Samuel of the Church of his days. 1 In later times, even in our own, many names spring to our recollec¬ tion, of those who have trodden or (in different de¬ grees, some known, and some unknown) are treading 1 Basil, Ep. 82. Lect. XVIII. HIS INDEPENDENCE. 447 the same thankless path in the Church of Germany, in the Church of France, in the Church of Russia, in the Church of England. Wherever they are, and whosoever they may be, and howsoever they may be neglected, or assailed, or despised, they, like their great prototype and likeness, in the Jewish Church, are the silent healers who bind up the wounds of their age in spite of itself; they are the good physi¬ cians who knit together the dislocated bones of a . disjointed time; they are the reconcilers who turn the hearts of the children to the fathers, or of the fathers to the children. They have but little praise and reward from the partisans who are loud in indis¬ criminate censure and applause. But, like Samuel, they have a far higher reward, in the Davids who are silently strengthened and nurtured by them in Naioth of Ramah, — in the glories of a new age which shall be ushered in peacefully and happily after they have been laid in the grave. In two important ways, this character of mediation, if I may so call it, was discernible in the Prophetical office generally, and, as far as we can see, was spe¬ cially exemplified in Samuel. . First, we observe in his position and character that independence of spirit which has sometimes His inde _ caused the Prophets, and himself in particular, P endence - to be regarded almost as the demagogues, the trib¬ unes, of the Jewish people. The song ascribed to his mother at his birth well expresses the new element, which was in him to break out and run across the usual tenor of Jewish society. “ The bows of the “ mighty men are broken, and they that stumbled are ££ girded with strength.” “ The Lord maketh poor and (£ maketh rich; He bringeth low and lifteth up.” 1 Stern 1 1 Sam. ii. 4, 7. 448 SAMUEL. Lect. XVIIL rebuke of the popular will, stern defiance of regal tyranny, stern denunciation of sacerdotal corruption, marked the entrance of the Prophetic dispensation into the Church. To be above the world, to derive courage and strength from a higher source than the world, was the first guarantee for a due discharge of the Prophetic mission. “ There is none holy as the a Lord • for there is none beside thee; neither is there “ any rock like our God .” 1 But, secondly, in Samuel as afterwards, this attitude of solitary defiance was not the attitude of Priestly interest or ambition. Of all the “ vulgar errors ” in His anti- sacred history, none is greater than that which sacerdotal character, represents the conflict of Samuel with Saul as a conflict between the regal and sacerdotal power. It is doubtful even whether he was of Levitical descent ; 2 it is certain that he was not a Priest. “ Samuel Pro- “ pheta fuit, Judex fuit, Levita fuit, non Pontifex, ne “ Sacerdos quidem,” is the just remark of S. Jerome . 3 And in accordance with this we may observe that Samuel himself, after the fall of Shiloh, dwelt not at Gibeon or Nob, the seat of the Tabernacle and the Priesthood, but at Ramah. At Ramah, and at Bethel, and at Gilgal, not at Hebron or Anathoth, were the Prophetic schools. He reproved Saul the King, only in the same way as, in his early childhood, he had reproved Eli the Priest. The guilt of Saul’s sacrifice at Gilgal was not that it infringed on the province of the Priest: Saul as king had the same right to sacrifice as David and Solomon had afterwards. It was that he in his rash superstition broke through 1 1 Sam. ii. 2. Ps. lxxviii. 1), Ewald (ii. 549) by sup- 2 Elkanah in 1 Sam. i. 1, is an posing that the Levites were occa- Ephrathite or Ephraimite; in 1 Chron. sionally incorporated into the tribes vi. 22, 23, he is a Levite. This has amongst which they lived. been explained by Hengstenberg (on 3 Adv. Jovinianum. # 4 Lect. XVIII. HIS GRADUAL GROWTH. 449 the moral restraint imposed upon him by the Prophet. And in the yet more memorable scene, where Sam¬ uel, as the stern executioner of judgment on the captive Agag, protests against the misplaced mildness of Saul, his words rise far above the special occasion, and contain the key-note of the long remonstrance of the Prophets in all subsequent times against an exaggerated estimate of ceremonial above obedience The very flow of the words recalls to us the form as well as the spirit of Amos and Isaiah. 66 Hath the 66 Lord as great delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices “ as in obeying the voice of the Lord ? Behold to “ obey is better than sacrifice, and to hearken than “ the fat of rams. For the sin of witchcraft is “ rebellion, and iniquity and idolatry are stubborn- “ ness. . . . ' The Strength of Israel will not lie “ nor repent; for He is not a man that He should “ repent .” 1 There is one more aspect in which Samuel’s life may be viewed. It was not merely as the chief leader of the People wdien they passed into the second stage of their national history, nor as the Founder of the Schools of the Prophets, that he is especially known as u Samuel the Prophet.” It was, because, unlike Moses or Deborah, or any previous saint or His gradual teacher of the Jewish Church, he grew up growth ‘ for this office from his earliest years. He was (e the Prophet” from first to last. Even in his parentage, we find a slight but significant indication of his prepa¬ ration for it. His mother, as we have seen, was almost a prophetess; the word Zophim , as the affix of his birthplace Ramathaim , has been explained, not unrea¬ sonably, to mean “ seers,” or “ watchmen ; ” and Elka- 1 1 Sam. xv. 22, 23, 29. 57 • % ^ 450 SAMUEL. Lect. XVIII. nah his father is, in ancient Jewish tradition , 1 called “ a disciple of the Prophets.” This early education for his office is, after all, the picture of Samuel most familiar to our thoughts. It is not the terrible figure which rose up before the apostate king in the cave of Endor — the stern old man, ascending like a god from the earth, with threatening and disquieted coun¬ tenance, with the fearful aspect of him who had pre¬ sented the mangled remains of Agag as a sacrifice at Gilgal, who had called down thunder from heaven, who had shaken off Saul from the skirts of that pro¬ phetic mantle with which his face was veiled. It is not this shape, grand and striking though it be, in which Samuel usually rises to our recollections. It is as the little child in his linen ephod, and in the little “ mantle ” which his mother brought him from year to year; the child Samuel sleeping in the tabernacle of Shiloh, in the simple sleep of innocence, unknowing of the sins which went on around him ; roused by the mysterious voice, listening in deep reverence to its awful message. This is the image of Samuel which is enshrined to us in Christian art; this is the image which most appeals to our general sympathy, and on which the Sacred Text lays the most peculiar stress. On these early chapters of the Books of Samuel, we are told that in his gentler moments Luther used to dwell with the tenderness which formed the occasional counterpoise to the ruder passions and enterprises of his general life. Ever and anon amidst the crimes and terrors of the narrative of that troubled time; athwart the sins and corruptions of the Priesthood, and the passions and the calamities of the nation, the scene of the Sacred Story is, as it were, drawn back, 1 Targum of Jonathan on 1 Sam. i. 1. Lect. XVIII. HIS GRADUAL GROWTH. 451 and reveals to us, in successive glimpses, the one peaceful, consoling, hopeful image, and we hear the same gentle undersong of childlike, devoted, contin¬ uous goodness. “ His mother said, I will bring him “ that he may appear before the Lord, and there abide “forever” 1 “And she brought him unto the House “of the Lord in Shiloh, and the child ivas young? 2 And she said, “ For this child I prayed; and the Lord “ hath given me the petition which I asked of him. “ Therefore also I have lent him to the Lord; as long “ as lie liveth , he shall be lent to the Lord . And he wor- “ shipped the Lord there? 3 “ And the child did minister “ unto the Lord before Eli the Priest .” 4 (“ The sons “ of Eli were men of Belial ; . . . and the sin of the “ young men was very great before the Lord. . . . ) “ But Samuel ministered before the Lord , being a child .” 6 “ And the child Samuel grew before the Lord? (“ Now “ Eli was very old, and heard all that his sons did to “ all Israel; and said unto them, Why do ye such “ things ? . . . Notwithstanding they hearkened not “ unto the voice of their father, because the Lord “ would slay them”) “ And the child Samuel grew on , “ and was in favor both with the Lord and with men .” 6 (“ There came a man of God unto Eli and said . . . “ Wherefore honorest thou thy sons above me, to make “ yourselves fat with the chiefest of all the offerings “ of Israel my people ? And the child Samuel ministered “ unto the Lord before Eli .” 7 “ And Samuel grew and “ the Lord was with him, and did let none of his words “fall to the ground, and all Israel from Dan to Beer* 1 1 Sam. i. 22. 4 Ibid. ii. 11. 2 Ibid. 24. 5 Ibid. 12, 17, 18. 3 Ibid. 27,28. This act of worship 6 Ibid. 21-26. on the part of the child is omitted in 7 Ibid. 27-36 ; iii. 1. the LXX. 452 SAMUEL. Lect. XVIII. “ sheba knew that Samuel was established to be a prophet “ of the Lord .” 1 It is this contrast of the silent, inward, unconscious growth of Samuel, with the violence and profligacy of the times, that renders this narrative the first ex¬ ample, the first chapter, it may almost be called, of the like characteristic of the history of the Christian Church, in so many stages of its existence. It is also the expression of a universal truth. Samuel is the main example, as we have seen, of the moderator and mediator of two epochs. He is, also, the first instance of a Prophet gradually raised for his office from the earliest dawn of reason. His work and his life are the counterparts of each other. With all the recollec¬ tions of the ancient sanctuary impressed upon his mind, — with the voice of God sounding in his ears, not, as in the case of the elder leaders and teachers of his people, amidst the roar of thunder and the clash of war, but in the still silence of the Tabernacle, ere the lamp of God went out, — he was the more fitted to meet the coming crisis, to become himself the cen¬ tre of new institutions, which should themselves be¬ come venerable as those in which he had been him¬ self brought up. Because in him the various parts of his life hung together, without any abrupt transi¬ tion ; because in him “ the child was father to the man,” and his days had been “ bound each to each by natural piety,” therefore he was especially ordained to bind together the broken links of two diverging epochs; therefore he could impart to others, and to the age in which he lived, the continuity which he had experienced in his own life; therefore he could gather round him the better spirits of his time by 1 1 Sam. iii. 19, 20. Lect. XVIII. HIS DEATH 453 that discernment of " a pure heart, which sees through heaven and hell” In that first childlike response, “ Speak, Lord, for thy servant heareth,” was contained the secret of his strength. When in each successive stage of his growth the call waxed louder and louder to duties more and more arduous, he could still look back without interruption to the first time when it broke his midnight slumbers; when, under the fatherly counsel of Eli, he had obeyed its summons, and found its judgments fulfilled. He could still, as he His end. stood before the people at Gilgal, appeal to the un¬ broken purity of his long eventful life. Whatever might have been the lawless habits of the chiefs of those times, — Hophni, Phinehas, or his own sons,— he had kept aloof from all. “ Behold, I am old and “ gray-headed, and I have walked before you from my “ childhood unto this day . Behold, here I am; witness “ against me before the Lord.” No ox or ass had he taken from their stalls; no bribe to obtain his judg¬ ment, 1 — not even so much as a sandal . 2 It is this appeal, and the universal response of the people, that has caused Grotius to give him the name of the Jewish Aristides . 3 And when the hour of his death came, we are told with a peculiar emphasis of expres¬ sion, that " all the Israelites,” — not one portion or fragment only, as might have been expected in that time of division and confusion, — "were gathered to¬ gether” round him who had been the father of all alike, and " lamented him and buried him; ” not in any sacred spot or secluded sepulchre, but in His grave, the midst of the home which he had consecrated only by his own long unblemished career, " in his house at 1 kt-'iXaofjia (LXX.); 1 Sam. xii. 3 Ecclus. xlvi. 19. 2 inodrjfm (LXX.) ; 1 Sam. xii. 454 SAMUEL. Lect. XVIIL Kamah .” 1 We know not with certainty the situation of Kamah. Of Samuel as of Moses it may he said, "No man knoweth of his sepulchre unto this day .” 2 But the lofty peak above Gibeon, which has long borne his name, has this feature (in common, to a cer¬ tain extent, with any high place which can have been the scene of his life and death), that it overlooks the whole of that broad table-land, on which the fortunes of the Jewish monarchy were afterwards unrolled. Its towering eminence, from which the pilgrims first obtained their view of Jerusalem, is no unfit likeness of the solitary grandeur of the Prophet Samuel, living and dying in the very midst and centre of the future glory of his country. Is it possible to evade or to forget the illustration The which this story derives from the experiences Samuel? °f education everywhere ? The venerable sanc¬ tuary which Joshua had planted, and where Eleazar had ministered, the monuments of what I have before termed the mediaeval age of the Jewish Church, are but the likeness, many times repeated in the Christian Church, — but nowhere more strikingly than in England and in Oxford, — of the ancient seats of education, the cathedrals, the monasteries, the col¬ leges blending both together, where generation after generation is trained for the future exercise of the pastoral office. Under such auspices, both in the Jew¬ ish and in the Christian Church, grow up Hophni and Phinehas, the profligate sons of Eli, and the blameless 1 1 Sam. xxv. 1. seventh century, is the needless hy- 2 This spot is still pointed out in a pothesis which has endeavored to cave underneath the floor of the Mus- identify Ramah with the nameless sulman mosque of Nebi Samwil. The city in 1 Sam. ix. 6. See Mr. Grove’s only serious objection to this tradi- article on Ramathaim-zophim in Dic¬ tion, which reaches back as far as the tionary of the Bible Lect. XVIII. HIS CHARACTER. 455 youth of the child of Elkanah. Sacred associations, religious services, are as deadening and hardening to the one, as they are elevating and purifying to the other. In this atmosphere, so charged with good and evil for the future, not less impressive is the lesson of the connection between Samuel’s character and Samuel’s mission. Wild excesses in vouth are often followed «/ by energy, by zeal, by devotion. We read it in the examples of Augustine, of Loyola, of John Newton. Sudden conversions of character such as these are amongst the most striking points of ecclesiastical his¬ tory. But no less certain is it that they are rarely, very rarely, followed by moderation, by calmness, by impartial wisdom. Count the eager partisans of our own or of other times. How often shall we find that their early discipline was one of headstrong and violent passion. How often shall we find that the conversion of a law¬ less and reckless youth issues in the one-sided and super¬ stitious zeal which hurries the ark of God into battle, after the example of Hophni and Phinehas, — which would oppose to the death the erection of the monar¬ chy and the rise of the Prophets, as Hophni and Phine¬ has in all probability would have opposed it, had they been converted and spared. Whatever else is gained by sudden and violent con¬ versions, this is lost. Whatever else, on the other hand, is lost by the absence of experience of evil, by the calm and even life which needs no repentance, this is gained. The especial work of guiding, mod¬ erating, softening, the jarring counsels of men is for the most part the especial privilege of those who have grown up into matured strength from early beginnings of purity and goodness — of those who can humbly 456 SAMUEL. Lect. XVIIL and thankfully look back through middle age, and youth and childhood, with no sudden rent or breach in their pure and peaceful recollections. Samuel is the chief type, in ecclesiastical history, of holiness, of growth, of a new creation without conver¬ sion ; and his mission is an example of the special mis¬ sions which such characters are called to fulfil. In proportion as the different stages of life have sprung naturally and spontaneously out of each other, without any abrupt revulsion, each serves as a foundation on which the other may stand; each makes the foun¬ dation of the whole more sure and stable. In propor¬ tion as our own foundation is thus stable, and as our own minds and hearts have grown up gradually and firmly, without any violent disturbance or wrench to one side or to the other; in that proportion is it the more possible to view with calmness and moderation the difficulties and differences of others — to avail our¬ selves of the new methods and new characters that the advance of time throws in our way — return from present troubles to the pure and untroubled well of our early years — to preserve and to communicate the childlike faith, changed, doubtless, in form, but the same in spirit, in which we first knelt in humble prayer for ourselves and others, and drank in the first impressions of God and of Heaven. The call may come to us in many ways; it may tell us of the change of the priesthood, of the fall of the earthly sanctuary, of the rise of strange thoughts, of the beginning of a new epoch. Happy are they who, here or elsewhere, are able to perceive the signs of the times, and to an¬ swer without fear or trembling, u Speak Lord, for thy “ servant heareth.” Lect. XIX. HISTORY OF THE PROPHETICAL ORDER 457 LECTUEE XIX. THE HISTORY OF THE PROPHETICAL ORDER. The life of Samuel is so marked an epoch in the history of the Prophetical Office, that this seems the fittest place for the consideration of an institution, which, though it bore its chief fruits in the periods following on that just brought to a close in the fore¬ going Lectures, may yet be viewed as a whole in this critical moment of its existence. It will accordingly be my endeavor to describe, first the Prophetical Order or Institution, in its original historical connection, and, secondly, the nature of the Prophetical Teaching in its relations to the moral and spiritual condition of the Jewish, and, indirectly, of the Christian Church. s I. Before entering on the history of the order, the meaning of the word “ Prophet,” in the two The word sacred languages, must he exactly defined. ! - - The Hebrew word Nabi is derived from the verb naba , which, however, never occurs in the ac- Nabi. tive, hut only in the passive conjugations of the verb, according to the analogy of the deponent verbs in Latin : — loqui, fari , vociferari , vaticinari , where the pas¬ sive form seems to indicate that the speaker is swayed by impulses over which he has not himself entire con¬ trol. The root of the verb is said to be a word sig¬ nifying u to boil or bubble over,” and is thus taken 58 458 HISTORY OF THE PROPHETICAL ORDER, Lect. XIX from the metaphor of a fountain bursting forth from the heart of man, into which God has poured it . 1 2 Its actual meaning is to pour forth excited utterances , as ap¬ pears from its occasional use in the sense of raving? Even to this day, in the East, the ideas of prophet and madman are closely connected. The religious sense, in which, with these exceptions, the word is always employed, is that of “speaking” or “singing un¬ der a divine afflatus or impulse ,” to which the peculiar form of the word, as just observed, lends itself. The same seems to be the general sense of the Arabic neby. It is this word that the Seventy translated by a Greek term not of frequent usage in classical au¬ thors, but which, through their adoption of it, has passed into all modern European languages; namely, “ Prophet.” the word 7 rpo'frrjrris, “ Prophet.” The sense of this word in classical writers is not less clearly defined than that of Nabi in Hebrew, and, though not exactly the same in sense, is sufficiently analogous to justify its employment by the Alexandrine translators. It is always an interpreter or medium of the Divine will. Thus Apollo is the Prophet of Jupiter, the Pythia was the Prophetess of Apollo, and the attendants or ex¬ pounders of her ejaculations were the Prophets of the Pythia. It is possible that the Seventy may. have derived their use of the word from its special applica¬ tion in Egypt to the chief of the Sacerdotal order in any particular temple. His duties were to walk at the close of the sacred processions, bearing in his bo¬ som an urn of sacred water; to control the taxes, and to teach the sacred books. It was probably in this 1 See Gesenius, in voce Nabi. ix. 11, and the connection of uccvth. Comp. Prov. i. 23. and / lalvofiac . 2 1 Sam. xviii. 10. Comp. 2 Kings Lect. XIX. THE WORD “PROPHET.” 459 last capacity that the Greek name of “ Prophet ” was applied to him, and that we hear of the office being held by Sonches and Sechnuphis, the reputed masters of Pythagoras and of Plato. 1 The Greek proposition pro as compounded in the word Pro- phet, has, as is well known, the three¬ fold meaning of “ beforehand,” “ in public,” and “ in behalf of” or “ for.” It is possible that all these three meanings may have a place in the word. But the one which unquestionably predominates in its original meaning is the third, — “ one who, speaks for,” or as “ the mouthpiece of another ” 2 As applied therefore by the Septuagint, in the Old Testament, and by the writers of the New Testament, who have taken the word from the Septuagint, it is used simply to ex¬ press the same idea as that intended in the Hebrew Nabi: not foreteller , nor (as has been said more truly, but not with absolute exactness), “forth-teller” but “ spokesman,” 3 and (in the religious sense in which it is almost invariably used) “ expounder,” and u in¬ terpreter ” of the Divine Mind. The English words “ prophet,” “ prophecy,” u prophe¬ sying,” originally kept tolerably close to the Modern Biblical use of the word. The celebrated dis- word, pute about “ prophesyings,” in the sense of “ preach¬ ings,” in the reign of Elizabeth, and the treatise of Jeremy Taylor on The Liberty of Prophesying , i. e., the liberty of preaching, show that even down to the seventeenth century, the word was still used, as in the Bible, for “ preaching,” or “ speaking according to 1 Clem. Alex. Strom, i. 15, vi. 4, nonymously with it (see Liddell and and Valesius’ notes on Eusebius, H. Scott in voce). E. iv. 8. 3 Thus in Exod. iv. 16, vii. 1. 2 This appears clearly from the “ Aaron shall be thy prophet,” — “ in- Words npopavng and vttoQtjttjc used sy- stead of a mouth.” 460 HISTORY OF THE PROPHETICAL ORDER. Lect. XIX. the will of God .” In the seventeenth century, however, the limitation of the word to the sense of “predic¬ tion,” had gradually begun to appear; 1 founded partly on a misapprehension of the true meaning of the Greek preposition, partly on the attention attracted by the undoubtedly predictive parts of the prophetical writings. This secondary meaning of the word had by the time of Dr. Johnson so entirely superseded the original Scriptural signification, that he gives no other special definition of it than “ to predict, to foretell, to prognos¬ ticate ;” “a predicter, a foreteller;” “foreseeing or foretelling future events;” and in this sense it has been used almost down to our own day, when the revival of Biblical criticism has resuscitated, in some measure, the Biblical use of the word. A somewhat similar divergence of sentiment has sprung up in the Mussulman world. The Sonnites or orthodox Mussulmans still use the word in its origi¬ nal sense as a divinely instructed teacher, whilst the Shiahs or heretical Mussulmans use it as equivalent to one who has the power of prediction. It is even said that this difference as to the meaning of the Prophetic office, far more than the dispute respecting the succession to the Caliphate, lies at the root of that great schism in the Mussulman community. How far the modern limitation of the word is borne out by the unquestionable prevalence of Prediction in 1 It is true that Clement of Alex¬ andria occasionally dwells on the word (Strom, ii: 12) as equivalent to npo- &eom&iv and TTpoyivGxmetv, whence it would seem that he took the preposi¬ tion as signifying beforehand. But there is hardly any appearance of this usage either in the LXX. or the New Testament. The nearest approaches in the Biblical use of the word “ Prophet” to the sense of prediction are in the speeches and Epistles of St. Peter. (Acts ii. 30; iii. 18, 21 ; 1 Pet. i. 10; 2 Pet. i. 19, 20; iii. 2.) Lect. XIX. THE OFFICE. 461 the Prophetical Office of the Jewish Church, will best appear in the next Lecture. Meanwhile, it is impor¬ tant at the outset, and in the history of the Order, to adhere to the ancient and only Biblical use of the term: the more so, as the contracted sense in which it is now popularly employed would exclude from our consideration the most remarkable and characteristic instances of it,— Moses, Samuel, and Elijah, in the Old Testament 5 John the Baptist and S. Paul in the New. The Prophet then was “the messenger or interpre¬ ter of the Divine will.” Such is the force of all the synonymes employed for the office. The Prophet is expressly called “ the interpreter,” 1 and “ the messen¬ ger of Jehovah.” 2 He is also called “the man of spirit,” 3 and “the Spirit of Jehovah” enters into him, 4 “clothes” 5 him (thus corresponding almost exactly to our word “ inspired.”) The greater Prophets are called “ men of God.” 6 His communication is called “ the word of Jehovah,” and a peculiar term is used for the Divine voice in this connection, chiefly in Ezekiel and Jeremiah. 7 In the New Testament this meaning is still continued. The detailed descriptions of “ prophe¬ sying,” by S. Paul 8 are hardly distinguishable from what we should call “ preaching-; ” the word “ exhor¬ tation,” or “consolation,” 9 is used as identical with it; 1 Isa. xliii. 27. Translated “ teach¬ ers.” 2 Haggai i. 13 ; Mai. i. 1 (the word “Malachi”); Judg. ii. 1. 3 Hos. ix. 7. 4 Ezek. ii. 2. 5 Judg. vi. 34; 1 Chron. xii. 18; 2 Chron. xxiv. 20. 6 Comp. 1 Sam. ii. 27; ix. 6; 1 Kings xii. 22; xiii. 1, 2. 7 DM3 See Gesenius, in voce. 8 1 Cor. xiv. 3, 4, 24, 25. 9 Bar -nabas (“ the son of prophesy¬ ing”) is expressly translated vtoc ira- pa&rjoeug, “ the son of exhortation,” or as in our version, “ consolation.” Acts iv. 36. Comp. 1 Cor. xiv. 3. 462 HISTORY OF THE PROPHETICAL ORDER. Lect. XIX. and the same stress as in the Old Testament is laid on the force of the Divine impulse, whence it sprung. “ Prophecy came not in old time by the will of man; “ hut holy men of old spake as they were moved by “ the Holy Ghost” 1 “ God spake by (or u in ”) a the Prophets; ” 2 whence the phrase in the Nicene “ Creed, The Holy Spirit . . . spoke by the Proph- « ets ” Two points thus distinguish the Prophets from first to last. The first is their consciousness of deriving their gift from a Divine source. No other literature so directly appeals to such an origin. The impulse was irresistible. 3 “ Woe is me if I preach not the “ gospel.” 4 Secondly, the Divine communication is made through the persons of men. The rustling leaves of Dodona, or the symptoms of the entrails in Roman sacrifices, were thought u oracular,” or “ pre¬ dictive,” but would never have been called “ pro¬ phetic.” The “ Urim and Thummim ” on the High Priest’s breastplate might be the medium of a Divine Revelation, but whatever intimations they conveyed were not made through the mind and mouth of a man, and were therefore not “ prophecies.” 5 II. Such being the meaning of the word, I proceed 1 2 Pet. i. 21. 2 Heb. i. 1. 3 Num. xxiv. 1. 4 1 Cor. ix. 16. 5 Two or three other phrases in connection with the office must be briefly noticed : 1. The word nataph rendered “ prophesy ” and “ prophet,” in Micah ii. 6, 11, has the force of dropping, as gum from a tree, and thus falls in with the original signification of Nabi. 2. The ancient word for “prophet,” super¬ seded by Nabi shortly after Samuel’s time is “ Seer” ( Roeb ), 1 Sam. ix.; 1 Chron. ix. 22; xxvi. 28; xxix. 29. 3. Another antique title was “ Gazer” ( Hozeh ), 1 Chron. xxv. 5 ; xxi. 9 ; xxix. 29; 2 Chron. xxxiii. 19; Hab. i. 1; Isa. i. 1; ii. 1; xiii. 1; Amos. i. 1. The last trace of the seer is in “ Hanani the seer ” in the reign of Asa, 2 Chron. xvi. 7 ; the last of the gazer in the reign of Manasseh, 2 Chron. xxxiii. 19. Lect. XIX. THE HEATHEN PROPHETS. 463 to give a brief history of the Institution in the Jew¬ ish Church. The life and character of each individual prophet will belong to the period in which he ap¬ peared. But a general survey of all is necessary to a just understanding of each. Strictly speaking, the name and office of a Prophet was not confined to the Jewish people. Not to speak of the origin of the name as. derived from Greek and Egyptian heathenism, the Bible itself recognizes the existence of “ Prophets ” outside the pale of the true religion. The earliest and greatest instance The of a heathen Prophet is Balaam; 1 and the Prophets, form as well as the substance of his prophecies is cast in the same mould as that of the Hebrew proph¬ ets themselves. The a prophets of Baal ” are also fre¬ quently mentioned during the history of the monarchy, and “ false prophets” 2 are described as abounding. S. Paul also recognizes Epimenides the Cretan as a 66 prophet; ” 3 perhaps merely as an equivalent to a poet,” or votes , but probably in allusion to the mys¬ terious and religious character with which Epimenides was invested. S. Jude also speaks of the apocryphal book of Enoch as a prophecy. 4 These instances are important, both as illustrating the meaning of the word and the nature of the office, and also showing the freedom with which the Bible recognizes “ revela¬ tion ” and “ inspiration ” outside the circle of the Chosen People. Still it is within that circle, and as a special characteristic of the Jewish Church and na¬ tion, that the office must be considered. ( 1 .) There is no direct mention of a Pixrphet be- 1 See Lecture VIII. 21), Ahab (Ibid.), Shemaiah (Ibid. 2 The names of some of these have 24), Zedekiah (1 Kings xxii. 11, 24.) been preserved. Hananiah(Jer.xxviii. 3 lit. i. 12. 1,17; LXX.), Zedekiah (Jer. xxix. 4 Yerse 14. 464 HISTORY OF THE PROPHETICAL ORDER. Lect. XIX fore the time of Moses. The name is indeed inciden- Tke rise tally given to Abraham when Abimelech is Prophetic warned to restore Sarah, “ for he is a prophet, Order. a an( j he ghall pray for thee ; ” 1 and probably the Psalmist makes the same allusion in the expres¬ sion, “Do my prophets no harm” 2 But Abraham never utters what would be called “ prophecies; ” and those promises and predictions which are made to him, or which occur in the earlier chapters of Genesis, in the primeval narrative of the Fall, though often classed by modern divines as “ the first prophecies,” are never so called in the Bible, which, as we have seen, only recognizes under the name of “ prophecies ” those which are delivered through the personal agency of men. A nearer approach is in the Blessing of Jacob. 3 This, however, is never directly called a prophecy in the Bible, nor is Jacob called a Prophet. But Moses receives the name repeatedly, and in one famous passage 4 is made the type or like¬ ness of the whole order, even of the Last and Greatest of all. The exposition of the Law is what most peculiarly marks his position. The poetical gift displayed in the three Songs of the Pentateuch, 5 and the 90th Psalm, belongs to him in common with the Prophets of a later time. 6 Such a burst of prophecy, as is contained in the acts and words of Moses, of itself marks his appearance as the first Prophetical epoch in the Jewish Church, and, as might be expected, in¬ dications of its lesser manifestations elsewhere at this time are faintly discerned. Aaron is described as “ a “prophet” in relation to Moses himself. 7 Miriam is Under Moses. 1 Gen. xx. 7. 3 Gen. xlix. 2 Ps. cv. 15. 4 Deut. xviii. 15-18. See Lecture 5 Ex. xv. 1-19; Deut. xxxii. xxxiii. VII. 7 Ex. iv. 16 ; vii. 1. 6 Lecture VHI. Lect. XIX. UNDER SAMUEL. 465 almost always designated as ec the prophetess/’ and on one occasion not only the seventy elders, but two youths outside the sacred circle, are described as catching the Divine afflatus ; and the great Prophet, in despite of the narrower spirit of the soldier Joshua, wishes that it should extend to the whole people . 1 ( 2 .) With the generation of Moses the gift seems for a time to have expired. Joshua has some- Underthe times been reckoned as a Prophet, and his Judges ' address to the people before his death may, in the Hebrew sense of the word, perhaps be regarded as a prophecy. But this is not a usual view of his posi¬ tion. Josephus thinks that he was accompanied by a Prophet. And on one occasion, just before his death, a “ messenger of the Lord,” an earlier “ Malachi,” is described as addressing the people at Bochim . 2 Two more such nameless Prophets appear in the days of Gideon and of Eli . 3 Ehud apparently had that character at the court of Moab . 4 But these are doubtful and isolated instances. The only detailed and character¬ istic prophecy of the time of the Judges, is that of “ the Prophetess ” Deborah . 5 The other Judges, if Prophets at all, are Prophets only in action. They were a clothed with the Divine Spirit,” or “ struck ” 6 by it, but only to perform acts of strength, not to utter words of wisdom. It is at the close of the period of the Judges that the office of Prophet first becomes not merely an oc¬ casional manifestation, but a fixed institution in the Jewish Church. Samuel is the true founder Under of the Order of Prophets. u Until Samuel the SamueL 1 Num. xi. 25-29. 2 Judg. ii. 1. 3 Ibid. vi. 8 ; 1 Sam. ii. 27. 59 4 Judg. iii. 20. 5 Ibid* iv. 4 ; v. 7. 6 See Lecture XII. 466 HISTORY OF THE PROPHETICAL OFFICE. Lect. XIX. “ prophet/’ “ From Samuel and those that follow “ after.” 1 “ Samuel and the Prophets,” 2 are expres¬ sions which exactly agree with the facts of the his¬ tory. In his time the name of “ Prophet,” ( Nabi ) first came into use, in place of the ancient and less ex¬ alted title of “ Seer” 3 ( Roeh ), or “Gazer” ( Hozeh ). In his time first appear the companies of “ the sons of the prophets.” 4 From his time the succession con¬ tinues, in every generation, unbroken down to Mala- chi. He, like Moses, appears not alone, but as the centre of a circle of Prophets; but, unlike Moses, of a circle some of whom were as highly endowed with prophetic gifts as he himself. Without dwelling on the doubtful case of his father Elkanah and his mother Hannah, there were certainly Gad, Nathan, David, Saul, and Heman, Samuel’s grandson, amongst those who, if they were not actually educated by him, all marked the epoch of his appearance. Amongst these, Samuel, Gad, and Heman, as if still belonging in a measure to the older state of things, are called “ Seers,” whereas Nathan and David bear, without variation, the new name of “ Prophet.” 5 (3.) From the two most remarkable of this age, David and Nathan anc ^ David, flowed in all probability, Nathan. the two prophetic schools, which never en¬ tirely ceased out of the Jewish Church as long as the prophetic gift lasted at all, but which may be no¬ ticed especially on this their first appearance. David, in continental nations is always termed not “ the “ Royal Psalmist,” but “ the Prophet King,” and in 1 Acts iii. 24; xiii. 20. 28; xxix. 29, “the seer” ( Roeh ) ; 2 Heb. xi. 32. Gad, 1 Chron. xxix. 29 ; xxi. 9; He- 3 1 Sam. ix. 9. man, 1 Chron. xxv. 5; “the gazer” * See Lecture XVIII. ( Hozeh ) ; Nathan “ the prophet ” 5 Samuel, 1 Chron. ix. 22; xxvi. (Nabi), 1 Chron. xxix. 29. Lect. XIX. UNDER THE MONARCHY. 467 Mussulman traditions is especially known as “ the “ Prophet of God/’ as Abraham is the “ Friend/’ and Mahomet “ the Apostle ” of God. He gave to his prophetic utterances the peculiar charm of song and music, which has procured him amongst ourselves the name of “ the Psalmist/’ and to his prophecies and those that are formed on their model, the name of “ Psalms,” or “ songs.” Nathan (who probably is the first “ seer ” that received distinctly the name of “ Prophet”), in one of the only two prophecies di¬ rectly ascribed to him, gives it the form of an apo¬ logue or proverb, that of the ewe-lamb; and being as he was the main supporter, if not instructor/ of Solo¬ mon, may be considered as the first example of that kind of moral instruction in which the gifts of Solo¬ mon, though not expressly called prophetic, found their chief vent. (4.) It was in the disorders at the close of Solo¬ mon’s reign that the Prophetic Order as- in the sumed an importance in the state such as it Kingdom, had never acquired before. Samuel had transferred the crown from Saul to David ; Nathan from Adonijah to Solomon. But Ahijah, in transferring it from Re- hoboam to Jeroboam, created not merely a new dynasty, but a new kingdom. The northern king¬ dom was, during the first period of its existence, the kingdom of the Prophets. The Priests took refuge in Judah. But the Prophets, for the first two centuries after the disruption, were almost entirely confined to Israel. All the seats of prophetic instruction (with the possible exception of Ramah) were within the kingdom of Samaria, — Bethel, Jericho, Gilgal, Car¬ mel. 1 2 Sam. xii. 25. (LXX.) ; 1 Kings i. 10. 468 HISTORY OF THE PROPHETICAL ORDER. Lect. XIX We hear of these by fifties, and by hundreds at once, 1 and amongst these the names of many have come down to us: Ahijah of Shiloh, 2 Iddo “the seer,” 3 Jehu the son of Hanani, 4 Obadiah, 5 Micaiah, 6 Oded, 7 and, chiefest of all, Elijah and Elisha. A few Proph¬ ets of the southern kingdom are mentioned as con¬ temporary with these: Azariah, 8 Hanani, 9 “ the seer,” Eliezer. 10 But neither in numbers nor in influence can these be compared with those who had their sphere of action in the north, of whom Elijah stands forth as the great representative. In this arduous position, sometimes at variance, sometimes in close harmony, with the Kings of Israel, they maintained the true religion in the northern tribes, at times when in Judah it was crushed to the ground, and when in Israel it had to struggle against severe persecution or sluggish apathy. And by their free passage to and fro between the rival kingdoms, and their endeavors on both sides to keep up a sentiment of humanity, 11 the Prophets of this epoch must be regarded as im¬ portant instruments for upholding not only the relig¬ ious but the national unity. (5.) This is the great epoch of the Prophetic action as distinct from the Prophetic writings of the In the Jewish Church. It is true that during this Jj^ah, time the main historical literature of the as wnters - country was formed under the prophetic guidance. We have distinct notices of the works in which Sam- 1 1 Kings xviii. 4; 2 Kings ii. 3. 3 2 Chron. ix. 29. Identified by- Josephus and Jerome with the proph¬ et of Judah, 1 Kings xiii. 1. 5 1 Kings xviii. 3 : and 2 Kings iv. 1, according to Josephus (Ant. ix. 4, § 2 ). 7 2 Chron. xxviii. 9. 2 1 Kings xi. 29. 4 1 Kings xvi. 7. 6 1 Kings xxii. 3. 8 2 Chron. xv. 1-8. 9 Ibid. xvi. 7. 1° Ibid. xx. 37. 11 Ibid, xxviii. 9- See Lecture XX. Lect. XIX. UNDER THE MONARCHY. 469 uel, Gad, and Nathan described the life of David, 1 and in which Nathan and Iddo described the lives of Solomon and Jeroboam. 2 These unfortunately have all perished. Their historical as well as their poeti¬ cal writings, no less than those of the still earlier period of Moses and the Judges, are handed down in the compositions or compilations of others. The writ¬ ings of David alone have been preserved in an inde¬ pendent and original form. But about the time of th destruction of the northern kingdom, a new phase passed over the Prophetic Order. Probably in con¬ sequence of the increasing cultivation of the people that had set in during the reign of Solomon, and had gradually penetrated all classes, the Prophets, or their immediate disciples, seem to have committed to writing the greater part of their prophecies. Of these written prophecies, the earliest is probably that of Joel; and in him the man of action is still visible athwart the written record. Close following upon him, are the last Prophets of the declining king¬ dom of the north, — Jonah (whether as appearing in the history or in the book of which he is the sub¬ ject), Hosea, and Amos. Immediately succeeding to these, but now confined to the southern kingdom, rises the great school of Prophets, under Uzziah and his three successors, Isaiah, Micah, Nahum, and “ Zechariah, 3 who had understand¬ ing in the visions of God.” Following upon these, in fainter strains, as the external dangers increased, 1 1 Chron. xxix. 29. 2 Ibid.; 2 Chron. ix. 29. 3 2 Chron. xxvi. 5. This is prob¬ ably the same as Zechariah, the son of Jeberechiah (Isa. viii. 2), to whom have been often ascribed, with much probability, portions, if not the whole, of the prophecies quoted by S. Mat¬ thew (xxvii. 9,10) under the name of Jeremiah, and now contained in the writings of the later Zechariah (Zech. ix.-xiii.) 470 HISTORY OF THE PROPHETICAL ORDER. Lect. XIX and the internal strength of the kingdom declined, were Zephaniah, probably Habakkuk, Obadiah, and the nameless “seer” or “seers” 1 in the reign of Manasseh. The whole of this series is concluded by the most mournful, and in some respects the greatest of the older Prophets, Jeremiah, with the circle of inferior Prophets round him, — Huldah, the Prophetess, 2 Uri- jah, and Hanan. 3 (6.) Jeremiah is the last of the Prophetic Order who in the actively concerned in moving the affairs of Captivity. g|- a £ e anc [ Church. In the Prophets of the Captivity and of the Keturn, the character of authors goes far to supersede the character of their older mission. Their works are for the most part, as those of their predecessors had never been, arranged in chronological sequence, and their style becomes continuous and fixed. Amongst these, three names are conspicuous, — Ezekiel, who connects the close of the monarchy with the commencement of the Cap¬ tivity ; the Evangelical Prophet, 4 who heralds the return from the Captivity • and Daniel, 5 whatever be 1 2 Chron. xxxiii. 19. 2 2 Kings xxii. 14. 3 Jer. xxvi. 20 ; xxxv. 4. 4 By this term may be designated the Author of Isa. xl.-lxvi., whether, with most continental scholars, he is regarded as a separate prophet from the Isaiah of Hezekiah, or, with most English divines, he is regarded as the older Isaiah, transported into a style and position later than his own time. 5 The Jewish Canon refuses to acknowledge the prophetic character of this Book, and places it in the Hagiographa. The title, as it stands in our own version, is not the “ Book of Daniel the Prophet,” but “ the Book of Daniel.” Ecclesiasticus (xlix. 9, 10) omits, in like manner, all mention of it. In the quotation from it in Mark xiii. 14, the best MSS. omit all mention of the name or office of the writer. In the corresponding passage in Matt. xxiv. 15, the Syriac version omits the name of the writer. But still as the word “ prophet ” is in that text associated with the book, and as Daniel is so reckoned by the Eastern world at the present day, and as the book unquestionably con¬ tains a special prophetic element of the highest value (on which I shall en¬ large in my next Lecture,) we may sc far follow the received opinion of the Lect. XIX. EXTINCTION OF PROPHECY. 471 the exact date or character we assign to the book which bears his name. The group following And the the Captivity consists of Haggai, Zechariah, 1 Return * and the unknown “ messenger/’ whom we call Mala- chi. These three, probably, alone of the books of the Old Testament, stand in the canons in the order in which they were originally published. The only other indications of the prophetic spirit in this period are amongst the Samaritans, — “ the prophetess Noadiah,” and “ the rest of the Prophets.” 2 Ezra is once called a Prophet in one of the later books to which his name is affixed; 3 but this is not his usual designation. (7.) With Malachi, accordingly, the succession which had continued unbroken from the time of Samuel terminates, and a host of legends, Jewish and Mussul¬ man, commemorate the extinction of the prophetic gift. “We see not our signs:* there is no more Extinction any prophet.” 4 It is true that the Books of ecy. Baruch, Wisdom, and Ecclesiasticus, lay claim, more or less, both to the prophetic form and prophetic character. Still the impassioned poetic flow of the earlier Prophets is greatly abated, and the name is rarely used. The Religion of the Old Dispensation was fully revealed and constituted — not prophets were needed to declare it, but “ scribes” to expound and defend it. 5 It is this long silence or deterioration of the gift that renders its resuscitation more remarkable. Revival at the Chris- It was “in the days of Herod the king,” that Ran era. the voice of a Prophet was once more heard. We present day as to rank him amongst 2 Neh. vi. 14. the Prophets, of this or of the sue- 3 2 Esdras i. 1. eeeding period, according to the view 4 Ps. lxxiv. 9. taken of the date of the book. 5 This is well brought out in Nico- 1 See especially Zech. i.-viii. las’ Doctrines Religieuses des Jui/s, 25 472 HISTORY OF THE PROPHETICAL ORDER. Lect. XIX. shall never understand the true appearance of the Baptist, or of Him whose forerunner he was, nor the continuity of the Old and New Testaments, unless we bear in mind that the period of the Christian era was the culminating point of the Prophetic ages of the Jewish Church. " The word of God came unto John the son of Zechariah,” as it had come before to Isaiah The Baptist, the son of Amoz. "The people counted him as a prophet.” " He was a prophet, and more than a prophet.” 1 In appearance, in language, in character, he was what Elijah had been in the reign of Ahab. And yet he was only the messenger of a Prophet christ. greater than himself. The whole public min¬ istry of our Lord was that of a Prophet. He was much more than this. But it was as a Prophet that He acted and ‘spoke. It was this which gave Him His hold on the mind of the nation. He entered, as it were naturally, on an office vacant, but already ex¬ isting. His discourses were all, in the highest sense of the word, "prophecies.” And, when He was withdrawn from the earth, He, The like Moses and Samuel, left a circle of Prophets Apostles, behind Him, through whom the sacred gift was continued and diffused. It was one of the expected marks of the Messiah’s kingdom that the prophetic in¬ spiration should become universal. 2 This expectation S. Peter saw realized on the day of Pentecost; and from S. Paul’s allusions, 3 it is evident that the posses¬ sion of the gift throughout the Christian community was the rule, and not the exception. Some there were more eminent than others, whose names, sayings, or 1 Luke iii. 2; Matt. xi. 9; xiv. 8. - Joel ii. 28, 29. Zacharias and Anna also indicate the 3 1 Cor. xii. xiv. return of the prophetic gift (Luke i. 67, ii. 36.). Lect. XIX. IN THE APOSTOLIC AGE. 473 writings, have been preserved to us. Agabus, Simeon Niger, Lucius, Manaen, Philip's daughters, 1 Joseph, who derived from this gift the name by which he was usu¬ ally known, of “ Barnabas,” Saul, who was called Paul, 2 John; 3 and to these we may probably add, though not expressly bearing the name, Cephas or Peter, Jacob or James the Younger, Judas or Thaddeus, and the au¬ thor of the Epistle to the Hebrews. With John, as far as we know, the name and the thing ceased. There have been great men to whom the title has been given in later times. There have been others who have claimed it for themselves. But in the peculiar Bibli¬ cal, Hebrew sense of the word, and certainly within the circle of the Jewish Church, S. John was the Last of the Prophets. III. This rapid sketch may suffice to have given a connected view of the history of the Order. The Insti _ I now proceed to describe some of its charac- tutlon * teristics, as an Institution. * (1.) The first call, in most instances of which there are records, seems to have been through a vision or apparition, resembling those which have in Christian times produced celebrated conversions, as of the Cross to Constantine, and to Colonel Gardiner, and of the voice to S. Augustine. The word “Seer,” by which “ the prophet ” 4 was originally called, implies Prophetic that visions were the original mode of reve- trough lation to the Prophets. These visions in the Vlslons; case of the Prophets of the Old Testament were al¬ most always presented in images peculiarly appropri¬ ate to the age or the person to w T hom they appear; and almost always conveying some lofty conception 1 Acts xi. 28; xiii. 1 ; xxi. 8, 9, 10. 3 Rev. x. 11; xxii. 7, 9, 10, 18, 19. 2 Acts iv. 36; xiii. 2, 7. 4 1 Sam. ix. 9. 60 474 HISTORY OF THE PROPHETICAL ORDER. Lect. XIX of the Divine nature. Such are the vision of the Burning Bush to Moses, of the Throne in the Temple to Isaiah, of the complicated chariot-wheels to Ezekiel, and (although not at the commencement of his mis¬ sion) of the still small voice to Elijah. The highest form of vision in the Old Testament is that mentioned in the case of Moses, who is described as something even above a Prophet. “ If there be a prophet among “ you, I the Lord will make myself known unto him “in a vision, and will speak unto him in a dream. “My servant Moses is not so, who is faithful in all “ mine house. With him will I speak mouth to mouth, “ even visibly, and not in dark speeches; and the sim- “ ilitude of the Lord shall he behold.” 1 In like manner to the great Prophets of the New Testament, the purpose of these Divine visions seems to have been effected by the intercourse of the Apos¬ tles with Christ. “ Have I not seen Christ the Lord ? ” 2 is S. Paul’s account of his own qualifications, which would apply to all of them. These visions or communications are described as taking place sometimes through dreams, as in the case of Samuel, Nathan, Elijah at Horeb ; sometimes through an ecstatic trance, as in the case of Balaam, S. John, and S. Peter; sometimes both, as in the case of S. Paul. But the more ordinary mode through which “ the word of the Lord,” as far as we can trace, came, through was through a Divine impulse given to the theProph- p r0 phet’s own thoughts. This may be seen mind. partly from the absence of any direct men¬ tion of an external appearance or voice, partly from the fact that the message as delivered is expressed in the peculiar style of the individual prophet who speaks. 1 Num. xii. 6-8. 2 1 Cor. ix. 1. Lect. XIX. ITS UNIVERSALITY. 475 This close connection between the Divine message and the personal thoughts and affections of the Prophet is still more apparent in the New Testament than in the Old, and reaches its highest point in the utterances of the Greatest of all the Prophets, Christ Himself. In Him the Divine is so closely united with the hu¬ man, that the passage from the one to the other is imperceptible. He is Himself 66 the Word” In three cases only, but then for special purposes, 1 is there any indication of a communication external to himself. “ He “ speaks that which He knows, and testifies that which “ He has seen.” (2.) In accordance with this intimate relation be¬ tween the Prophets and their Divine call, is Absence of consecra- the fact that of all the offices of the Jewish tion. Church and State, this alone appears to be the direct result of the call, without any outward or formal con¬ secration. Kings and Priests, in the Old Testament, are anointed; bishops (or presbyters) and deacons in the New Testament, have an imposition of hands. But there is no instance (or but one 2 ) of the anoint¬ ing of a Prophet in the Old Testament, or of the consecration, by laying on hands, of a Prophet or Apostle in the New Testament. It was a “ call,” cor¬ responding to the call of natural gifts, or inward move¬ ments of the Divine Spirit through the conscience, in our own times. (3.) The Prophetic office, thus dependent entirely on the personal relation of the Prophet to his Univer _ Divine Instructor, was, unlike any of the other 8ahty * sacred offices of the ancient world, confined to no one circle or caste of men. Its universality is everywhere part of its essence. Although a few, such as Jeremiah, 1 Matt. iii. 17 ; xvii. 5; John xii. 28. anoint Elisha.” But there is no rec- 476 HISTORY OF THE PROPHETICAL ORDER. Lect. XIX Ezekiel, and John the Baptist, were priests, although Moses and Samuel belonged to the tribe of Levi, yet there was nothing sacerdotal even in these; in this respect forming a remarkable contrast to the Egyp¬ tian “ Prophets,” as described by Clement of Alexan¬ dria. Most of them belonged to other tribes; the Greatest of all was of the tribe of Judah. They came from every station of life. Moses, Deborah, and Sam¬ uel were warriors and leaders of the people; David and Saul were kings; Amos was a herdsman; Elijah a Bedouin wanderer. Women as well as men were seized by the gift, — Miriam, Deborah, Huldah, Anna, the four danghters of Philip. This universal diffusion of the gift answered the double purpose of keeping the minds of the people alive to the constant expec¬ tation of some new Prophet appearing in the most secluded or unwonted situation; 1 and also of main¬ taining a constant protest against the rigidity of caste and ceremonial institution, into which all religion, especially all Eastern religion, is likely to fall. To a certain degree the institution of the Christian clergy fulfils the same end, as being open to all comers from whatever rank. But even here the effect is less strik¬ ing than in the case of the Jewish Prophet; partly, because in some branches of Christendom, as in the Bussian Church, the clergy have virtually become an hereditary caste, partly because in modern times they have practically been drawn from one stratum of so¬ ciety, and have been animated by a professional feel¬ ing, such as must have been impossible in the Jewish Prophets, who included within their number functions so different as those of king and peasant, characters so different as Saul and Isaiah. (4.) But although the office was characterized by 1 See Lecture VII. Lect. XIX. SCHOOLS OF THE PROPHETS. 477 this universal spirit, the Prophets still constituted a separate order in the state which, at least during the time of the monarchy, can be reproduced in some de¬ tail, and compared to like institutions elsewhere. From Samuel’s time they appear to have been formed into separate companies, to which modern divines have given the name of “ schools of the prophets.” 1 Schools of These companies are described by a word sig- ets. nifying “ chain ” or “ cord.” They were called 6C sons cc of the prophets; ” and their chief for the time being was (like the “ abbott ” of a monastery) called “ fa¬ ther.” 2 Music and song were among the instruments of their education. 3 They were congregated chiefly at Eamah (during Samuel’s life), and afterwards at Bethel, Gilgal, Jericho, and finally Jerusalem. At Jerusalem many of them lived in chambers attached to the court of the Temple. 4 They wore a simple dress — perhaps, since Elijah introduced it, a sheepskin cloak. 5 In Samuel’s time (according to Josephus 6 ) long hair and abstinence from wine were regarded as signs of a Prophet. They had their food in common. 7 They lived in huts made of the branches of trees. 8 In one such, probably, John lived in the same neighborhood. They were to be found in considerable numbers, — fifty, 9 or even four hundred at a time. 10 Not to have 1 The word “ schools” nowhere oc¬ curs in the Authorized Version, nor has it any corresponding term in the original. “ Sons of the prophets ” is the nearest approach to a collective name, as in 2 Kings ii. 3 ; iv. 1,38,43. The fullest account of them is in 1 Chron. xxv. To these passages should probably be added Eccles. xii. 8-11. There is an ingenious description of them in Cowley’s Davideis. 2 2 Kings ii. 12. 3 1 Sam. x. 5. 4 Jer. xxxv. 4. 5 Zech. xiii. 4. 6 Ant. v. 10, § 3. 7 2 Kings iv. 40. 8 Ibid. vi. 1-5. 9 Ibid. ii. 16. 10 1 Kings xxii. 6. 478 HISTORY OF THE PROPHETICAL ORDER. Lect. XIX. been brought up in these schools was deemed an ex¬ ceptional case. 1 Some, like Isaiah in Jerusalem, or Elisha in Samaria, lived in great towms, in houses of their own. The higher Prophets had inferior Prophets or servants attendant upon them, whose duty it was to pour water on their hands, and secure provisions for them. 2 Thus Moses had Joshua and others; Elijah had Elisha; Elisha had Gehazi. Many of them were married, and had families; for example, Moses, Miriam, Deborah, Samuel, David, Nathan, Ahijah, Hosea, Isaiah, Ezekiel. The wife was sometimes, as in the case of the wife of Isaiah, called “ the Prophetess.” 3 This con¬ tinued to the prophetical office in the New Testament, when all the greater Prophets claimed, and most of them enjoyed, the privilege of married life,— Zacharias, Anna, and all of the Apostles, it is said, except Paul and John. 4 To this manner of life several parallels suggest themselves in later times. The rule of inmates of colleges and of monasteries in some points resem¬ bles, and has perhaps imitated, the outward forms of the prophetic schools. But the Christian and Western notions of celibacy have made a material difference ; and, on the whole, the nearest approach is that of dervishes in the East, — in their wandering life, in their symbolical actions, in their scanty dress, in their succession of disciples, and their collegiate institutions. 6 (5.) Their manner of teaching varied with the age in Manner of which they lived. The expression of thoughts teaching. * n form of poetry seems to have been part of the conception of the prophetic office from the very first. It is involved, as we have seen, in the sense of 1 Amos vii. 14. 4 See notes on 1 Cor. ix. 5. 2 2 Kings iii. 11; v. 22. 5 See Dr. Wolff’s Travels, ch. xvii., 3 Isa. viii. 3. xviii., xxxiv. Lect. XIX. MANNER OF TEACHING. 479 the Hebrew word Nabi. It appears first in the songs of Moses and Miriam. 1 It is also implied by the men¬ tion of the musical instruments in the schools of Samuel and of Asaph. 2 It is illustrated by the incident in the life of Elisha, who, though he has left no poetical writ¬ ings, yet required a minstrel and harp 3 to call forth his powers. It is forcibly exemplified by the grand burst of sacred poetry and music in David; and from that time most of the Prophets, whose writings have come down to us, wrote in verse. The historical chapters in Isaiah and Jeremiah are however in prose ; and it is therefore probable that this was also the case with the lost works, on which the sacred history of the Jewish Monarchy is founded; such as the biographies of David by Samuel, Gad, and Nathan; of Solomon, by Nathan, and Ahijah, and Iddo; of Rehoboam, by Iddo and She- maiah; of Jehoshaphat by Jehu. 4 It is, perhaps, from the connection between these lost writings and the present books of Samuel and Kings, that those books are in the Jewish Canon reckoned amongst the “ Books of the Prophets.” But these were the exceptions. The general style of the Jewish Prophets was poetical, and it is this which made the divines of the last century speak of the Prophets as the Poets of the Jewish nation. If we no longer dare to use the name, on account of the offence created by it, at least the fact is a sanc¬ tion to us that poetry was regarded as a prophetic gift, and as the fittest vehicle of Divine Revelation, and that a book is not the less divine or the less canonical or the less true, because it is poetical. Even in the New Testament, there are, in the more directly 1 Ex. xv. 1, 20, 21; Deut. xxxii., 3 2 Kings iii. 15. xxxiii.; Ps. xc. 4 1 Chron. xxix. 29 ; 2 Chron. ix. 2 1 Sam. x. 5; 1 Chron. xxv. 1. 29; xii. 15; xx. 34: xiii. 22. 480 HISTORY OF THE PROPHETICAL ORDER. Lect. XIX prophetical parts, many lingering traces of the ancient poetic style. The Hebrew parallelism may he discov¬ ered in several of the Gospel discourses. Some of the parables, particularly of the Prodigal Son, and the Bich Man and Lazarus, are almost poems. The Epistles have their first model in the prophetic epistles of Elijah, Jere¬ miah, and Baruch; and though they are mostly in prose, yet there are portions of which the highly rhythmical character flows entirely in the ancient mould. 1 The Apocalypse is also thoroughly poetical in structure, as well as in spirit. The styles which this poetry assumes are various. It is sometimes lyrical, sometimes simply didactic, at other times dramatic. The form which is selected by the Great Prophet of Nazareth is that of parable Parables, or apologue. Of this only a very few instances occur in the writings of the earlier prophets, as of Nathan on the ewe-lamb, 2 and Isaiah on the vine. 3 But, in an acted or symbolical shape, this kind of teaching is of constant recurrence. The rending of the cloak of Samuel and of Ahijah, the concealment of the girdle of Jeremiah, Hananiah’s breaking the yoke, are obvious instances • to which in later times we may add the tak¬ ing of Paul’s girdle by Agabus, and many of the mir¬ acles of our Lord, which, as has been well pointed out, have almost all of them a didactic purport. 4 There are some of these acted parables which enter so deeply into the life of the Prophet himself, as to show that he was himself entirely identified with his mission. Such is the marriage of Hosea with the adulteress, Isaiah’s walking naked and barefoot for three years, the names of Isaiah’s 1 Rom. viii. 29-39; 1 Cor. xiii. 1-8, 2 2 Sam. xii. 1. xv. 35-58; 2 Cor. vi. 3-10; James v. 3 Isa. v. 1. 1-6. 4 Dean Trench on the Miracles. Lect. XIX. PROPHECIES WRITTEN DOWN. 481 children, and the death of Ezekiel’s wife, with its effect on himself. All the earlier prophecies were, in the first instance, delivered orally. But, like the effusions of Ma- written hornet, they were no doubt written down soon down ' afterwards by disciples, — such as, in the case of Jere¬ miah, was Baruch. In some instances, as in the case of Ezekiel, and of isolated examples in the life of Isaiah, 1 they were written down by the Prophet himself. The historical works above alluded to were also probably actually written by the authors themselves. Moses is also said to have written the Decalogue in its second form, 2 and the register of the Israelite wanderings. 3 In the New Testament, the utterances of Christ, who in this respect conformed Himself to the greatest type of the ancient Prophets, were never written by Him¬ self. The only exceptions, if they be exceptions, were that unknown “ writing on the ground,” 4 and the tra¬ ditional letter to Abgarus. 5 The utterances of the Apostles were for the most part taken down by scribes, such as Tertius, Silvanus, Tychicus, who thus corre¬ sponded to Baruch or Gehazi. The only certain cases in the New Testament where the Prophets were them¬ selves “ the sacred penmen ” (to employ a modern ex¬ pression commonly hut very .inexactly used) are the Epistle to the Galatians, 6 and the Epistles of S. John. 7 Most of their utterances, like those of their Master, were delivered on public occasions in synagogues, or in assemblies of Christians, as those of the older Proph¬ ets had been in the Temple courts, or on the moun 1 Isa. viii. 1. 5 Eus. H. E. i. 13. 2 Ex. xxxiv. 28. 6 Gal. vi. 11. 3 Num. xxxiii. 2. 7 3 John 13. 4 John viii. 6. 61 482 HISTORY OF THE PROPHETICAL ORDER. Lect. XIX tains of Judaea and Samaria. A peculiar name — by our translators rendered burden — is given to the Di¬ vine messages delivered by the Prophets on these special occasions. It appears that in the time of Jere¬ miah this phrase had been so much abused by the Prophets as to have lost its meaning, and Jeremiah therefore refuses to employ it 1 — a striking instance of the duty of discarding even a sacred formula when it has been perverted or exhausted. (6.) Different as were the forms of the Prophetic Commu- Teaching, there was also an identity in them Prophetic w ^ich largely contributes to the general unity Writings. 0 p fo e Prophetic Order, and of the Bible itself. It is evident that each one looked upon his prede¬ cessors’ teaching as, in a manner, common property, on which he modelled his own, and from which he adapted and imitated without reserve. It is difficult to say in these cases whether the imitation is direct, or whether each of the similar passages was taken from a common source. On either hypothesis, how¬ ever, the result is the same as to the community of the prophetic literature. Thus Amos refers back to Joel, 2 Hosea to some unknown prophet, 3 Isaiah to Micah, 4 Obadiah and Jonah to each other, or to some unknown prophet. 5 In the New Testament the same practice still to a certain extent continued. The Second Epistle of S. Peter and S. Jude either borrow from each other, or from a common source. 6 The same argument illus¬ trates, and to some degree explains, the corresponding 1 Jer. xxiii. 30-40. • 2 Amos i. 2 *, Joel iii. 16. 3 Hosea vii. 12: vni. 14. * » * Isa. ii. 2, 4 ; Micah iv. 1-4. 5 Comp, also Jer. xlviii. 1 , 2; Isa. xv. 1-4; xxiv. 17, 18 ; Num. xi. 28 ; xxiv. 17. 6 2 Pet. ii. 1-22 ; Jude 4-16. Lect. XIX. ITS IMPORTANCE. 483 phenomenon of the three first Gospels. The best key to the difficulties of the Apocalypse is to be found by tracking back to their sources the numerous ima¬ ges and passages which it has taken from the older Prophets. And the principle finds its highest exem¬ plification and sanction in the appropriation of the existing traditions of the Rabbinical schools, as well as the texture of the ancient prophetic writings, by Christ Himself These are some of the most striking characteristics of the outward appearance of this vast institution. Even in the dry enumeration of facts, which I have just made, it is impossible not to see its importance to the fortunes of the Jewish Church, and thence to the world at large. The very name is expressive of its great design. If the derivation of the word, as given above importance from Gesenius, be correct — the “ boiling or office, bubbling over ” of the Divine Fountain of Inspiration within the soul — it is impossible to imagine a phrase more expressive of the truth which it conveys. It is one of those words which conveys a host of imagery and doctrine in itself. In the most signal instances of the sites chosen for the Grecian oracles, we find that they were marked by the rushing forth of a living spring from the recesses of the native rocks of Greece, the Castalian spring at Delphi, the rushing stream of the Hercyna at Lebedea. It was felt that nothing could so well symbolize the Divine voice speaking from the mysterious abysses of the unseen world, as those inarticulate but lively ebullitions of the life-giving element from its unknown mysterious sources. Such a figure was even more significant in 484 HISTORY - OF THE PROPHETICAL ORDER. Lect. XIX. the remoter East. The prophetic utterances were in¬ deed the bubbling, teeming springs of life in those hard primitive rocks, in those dry parched levels. “ My heart,” to use the phrase of the Psalmist in the original language, 1 “is bursting*, bubbling over with a “ good matter.” That is the very image which would he drawn from the abundant crystal fountains which all along the valley of the Jordan pour forth their full-grown streams, scattering fertility and verdure as they flow over the rough ground. And this is the exact likeness of the springs of Prophetic wisdom and foresight, containing in themselves and their accom¬ plishments, the fulness of the stream which was to roll on and fertilize the ages. Even in the other great class of languages — the Indo-Germanic — the same figure appears, and may fairly he taken to illus¬ trate the Eastern metaphor. Ghost — Geist — the mov¬ ing, inspiring spirit, — is the same as the heaving, fermenting yeast, the boiling, steaming geyser? The Prophetic gift was to the Jewish Church exactly what these combined metaphors imply — the fermenting , the living element, which made the dead mass move and heave, and cast out far and wide a life beyond itself. The existence of such an institution in the midst of an Eastern nation, even if we knew nothing of its teaching, must be regarded as a rare guarantee for liberty, for progress, for protection against many a falsehood. Even of the modern Dervishes, with all their drawbacks, it has been said, that “ without them “no man w T ould be safe. They are the chief people “ in the East, who keep in the recollection of Oriental “ despots that there are ties between Heaven and 1 Ps. xlv. 1. fessor Muller (Lectures on ilie Science 2 See this well brought out by Pro- of Language , Amer. Ed. p. 000). Lect. XIX. ITS IMPORTANCE. 485 “ earth. They restrain the tyrant in his oppression “ of his subjects; they are consulted by courts and by “ the counsellors of state in times of emergency; they “ are, in fact, the great benefactors of the human race “ in the East.” 1 Such in relation to the mere brute power of the kings of Judah and Israel, were the Jewish Proph¬ ets, — constant, vigilant, watch-dogs on every kind of abuse and crime, 2 even in the highest ranks, by virtue of that universal, and at the same time eleva¬ ted position which I have described. But they were much more than this. A great philosophical writer of our own time, Mr. John Stuart Mill, has thus set forth the position of the Hebrew Prophets: — “ The Egyptian hierarchy, the paternal despotism “ of China, were very fit instruments for carrying “ those nations up to the point of civilization which “ they attained. But having reached that point, they “ were brought to a permanent halt, for want of “ mental liberty and individuality, — requisites of im- “ provement which the institutions that had carried “ them thus far entirely incapacitated them from ac- “ quiring, and as the institutions did not break down “ and give place to others, further improvement “ stopped. In contrast with these nations let us con- u sider the example of an opposite character, afforded a by another and a comparatively insignificant Oriental “ people — the Jews. They, too, had an absolute mon- “ archy and a hierarchy. These did for them what “ was done for other Oriental races by their institutions “ — subdued them to industry and order, and gave “ them a national life. But neither their kings nor their priests ever obtained, as in those other coun- 1 Dr. Wolff’s Travels. 2 Isa. lvi. 10. 486 HISTORY OF THE PROPHETICAL ORDER. Lect. XIX. “ tries, the exclusive moulding of their character. “ Their religion gave existence to an inestimably pre- “ cious unorganized institution, the Order (if it may “ be so termed) of Prophets. Under the protection, “ generally, though not always effectual, of their sa- “ cred character, the Prophets were a power in the “ nation, often more than a match for kings and “ priests, and kept up, in that little corner of the “ earth, the antagonism of influences which is the “ only real security for continued progress. Religion “ consequently was not there — what it has been in “ so many other places — a consecration of all that “ was once established, and a barrier against further “ improvement. The remark of a distinguished He- “ brew, that the Prophets were in Church and State “ the equivalent of the modern liberty of the press, “ gives a just but not an adequate conception of the “part fulfilled in national and universal history by “ this great element of Jewish life; by means of “ which, the canon of inspiration never being com- “ plete, the persons most eminent in genius and moral “feeling could not only denounce and reprobate, with “ the direct authority of the Almighty, whatever ap- “ peared to them deserving of such treatment, but “ could give forth better and higher interpretations of “ the national religion, which thenceforth became part “ of the religion. Accordingly, whoever can divest “ himself of the habit of reading the Bible as if it “ was one book, which until lately was equally in- “ veterate in Christians and in unbelievers, sees with “ admiration the vast interval between the morality and “ religion of the Pentateuch, or even of the historical “ books, and the morality and religion of the Prophe- “ cies, a distance as wide as between these last and Lect XIX. ITS IMPORTANCE. 487 “ the Gospels. Conditions more favorable to progress “ could not easily exist; accordingly the Jews, instead “ of being stationary, like other Asiatics, were, next to u the Greeks, the most progressive people of antiquity, “ and, jointly with them, have been the starting-point “ and main propelling agency of modern cultivation.” 1 In what way this grand result was produced, not merely by their office, but by their teaching, and in what that teaching consisted, — how it is that this Prophetic element, pervading as it does the whole literature of the Hebrew nation, that is, the whole Bible, renders it the storehouse of instruction to the clergy and the teachers of all ages, and at the same time the one inestimable Book, dear to all true lovers of human progress and religious freedom, to be studied, understood, and reverenced, through good report and evil, — will be the subject of the concluding discourse. 1 Representative Governmental^ 42. 488 HISTORY OF THE PROPHETICAL ORDER. Lect. XIX. NOTE TO LECTURE XIX. In the foregoing Lecture the Biblical enumeration of the Prophets alone has been alluded to. But it may be well to add briefly the enumerations in the Jewish, Mussulman, and Early Christian tradi¬ tions. I. In the Jewish Canon the Prophetical Books are thus given: — 1. Joshua. 2. Judges. 3. The Books of Samuel. 4. The Books of Kings. 5. The three Greater Prophets (not Daniel, or Lamentations). 6. The twelve minor Prophets. In the Rabbinical traditions, 1 there are reckoned 48 Prophets and 7 Prophetesses. The 48 Prophets: — “ 1. Abraham. 2. Isaac? 3. Jacob. 4. Moses. 5. Aaron. 6. Joshua. 7. Phinehas. 8. Elkanah. 9. Eli. 10. Sam¬ uel. 11. Gad. 12. Nathan. 13. David. 14. Solomon. 15. Iddo. 16. Micaiah. 17. Obadiah. 18. Ahijah. 19. Jehu. 20. Azariah. 21. Jahaziel (2 Chr. xx. 14). 22. Eleazar. All these were in the days of Jehoshaphat. And in the days of Jeroboam, son of Joash, 23. Hosea. 24. Amos. In the days of Jotham, 25. Micah. In the days of Amaziah, 26. Amoz (Isaiah’s father). 27. Elijah, 28. Elisha. 29. Jonah. 30. Isaiah. In the days of Manasseh, 31. Joel. 32. Na¬ hum. 33. Habakkuk. In the days of Josiah, 34. Zephaniah. 35. Jeremiah. In the Captivity, 36. Uriah. 37. Ezekiel. 38. Dan¬ iel. In the second year of Darius, 39. Baruch. 40. Neriah. 41. Seraiah. 42. Maaseiah (Jer. li. 59). 43. Haggai. 44. Zechariah. 45. Malachi. 46. Mordecai. In this list by some Shemaiah (2 Chr. xi. 2, xii. 15) is substituted for Daniel, and some add, 47. Hanameel , and 48. Shallum (Jer. xxxii. 7). The 7 Prophetesses: — 1. Sarah. 2. Miriam. 3. Deborah. 4. Hannah. 5. Abigail. 6. Huldah. 7. Esther .” II. The Mussulman authorities 8 reckon from Adam to Mohammed 1 Given, from the Seder Olarn , by Fa- 2 Those names which vary from the Bib- bricius, Codex Pseudepigrctphus V. T. 896- lical enumeration are in italics. 901. 3 Jelaladdin, 281. Lect. XIX. NOTE TO LECTURE XIX. 489 124,000 Prophets, of whom 40,000 were Gentiles, and 40,000, Israel¬ ites ; of these, however, only 314 or 315 possess supernatural illumina¬ tion or “ apostleship.” Of these again 25 are specially distinguished : — Adam, Seth, Idris (Enoch), Noah, Saleh (father of Heber), Abraham, Ishmael, Isaac, Jacob, Lot, Joseph, Job, Moses, Aaron, Khudr (the mysterious Immortal*), Shuaib (Jethro), Jonah, David, Solomon, Loh- man (contemporary of David, author of the Fables), Elijah, Daniel, Zachariah (father of the Baptist), Dsul Kefr (Ezekiel), Jahia Ben Zachariah (the Baptist), Isa (Jesus), Mohammed. The 6 preemi¬ nent names are of those Prophets who proclaimed a new Revelation. 2 Four of those who united the office of Prophet and Apostle were Greeks, — Adam, Seth, Enoch, Noah; 4 Arabians, — Hud, Shuaib, Saleh, and Mohammed. 3 III. The Ecclesiastical enumeration: — 1. Clement of Alexandria (Strom, i. 21) :— Adam (from his giving names to the animals and to Eve), Noah (as preaching repentance), Moses, Aaron, Samuel, Gad, Nathan, Abijah, Shemaiah, Jehu, Elijah, Michaiah, Obadiah, Elisha, Abdadonai (?), Amos, Isaiah, Jonah, Joel, Jeremiah, Zephaniah, Ezekiel, Uriah, Habakkuk, Nahum, Daniel, Misael, the Angel or Messenger (Malachi). 2. Epiphanius:—1. Adam. 2. Enoch. 3. Noah. 4. Abraham. 5. Isaac. 6. Jacob. 7. Moses. 8. Aaron. 9. Joshua. 10. Eldad. 11. Medad. 12. Job. 13. Samuel. 14. Nathan. 15. David. 16. Gad. 17. Jeduihun. 18. Asaph. 19. Heman. 20. Ethan. 21. Solomon. 22. Ahijah. 23. Shemaiah. 24. The Man of God, Hoseth. 25. Eli of Shiloh. 26. Joab. 27. Addo (Iddo). 28. Azariah. 29. Hanani. 30. Jehu. 31. Micaiah. 32. Elijah. 33. Oziel (?), 34. Eliud. 35. Joshua (Jehu ?), the son of Hananiah. 36. Elisha. 37. Jonadab. 38. Zachariah or Azariah. 39. Another Zachariah. 40. Hosea. 41. Joel. 42. Amos. 43. Obadiah. 44. Jonah. 45. Isaiah. 46. Micah. 47. Nahum. 48. Habakkuk. 49. Obed. 50. Abdadon ? 51. Jeremiah. 52. Baruch. 53. Zephaniah. 54. Urijah. 55. Eze¬ kiel. 56. Daniel. 57. Ezra. 58. Haggai. 59. Zachariah. 60. Mal¬ achi. 61. Zachariah (father of the Baptist). 62. Symeon. 63. John the Baptist. Lesser Prophets : — 64. Enos. 65. Methuselah. 66. La- mech. 67. Balaam. 68. Saul. 69. Abimelech or Ahimelech. 70. Amasai (1 Chr. xii. 18). 71. Zadoik. 72. Old Prophet of Bethel. 73. Agabus. 1 See Lecture VIII. 8 Jelaladdin, 280. 2 Zeitschrifl der Morgenlandischen Ge- sdlschafl , vol. iv. 14, 22. 62 490 HISTORY OF THE PROPHETICAL ORDER. Lect. XIX Prophetesses : — 1. Sara. 2. Rebehah. 3. Miriam. 4. Deborah. 5. Huldah. 6. Hannah. 7. Judith. 8. Elizabeth (mother of John). 9. Anna. 10. Mary. In conventional pictures in Eastern churches, Joshua, Gideon, Baruch, David, and Solomon are usually styled Prophets. Lect. XX. NATURE OE PROPHETICAL TEACHING. 491 LECTURE XX, ON THE NATURE OF THE PROPHETICAL TEACHING. In the well-known description of the Revelations of the Old Testament by the author of the Epistle to the Hebrews, 1 the essence of these Revelations is summed up in the words, “ God spake ly the Proph¬ ets .” He had in the words immediately pre- i mport ance ceding spoken of the various and multiform pitied™" gradations of Revelation, and he fixes our at- Ins P iratlon - tention on the special instructors or revealers of the Divine Will, who stood on the highest step of these gradations. These are, in one word, not the historians, geographers, ritualists, poets, of the Jewish Church, — valuable as each may be in their several ways,— but “the Prophets.” And again, although it is well known that the only full sense of the word “Inspira¬ tion ” is that in which alone it is used by the Church of England, 2 and the ancient Church generally, in the far wider sense of the universal mind of the whole Church, and all good in the human heart and intel¬ lect; yet there is a deep truth in the clause of the Nicene Creed, which says, “ The Holy Ghost spake ” (not by bishops or presbyters, or General Councils, or General Assemblies, or even saints, but) “ ly the 1 Heb. i. 1. ditions of Men. The Veni Creator 2 The Collect before the Communion Spiritus, the 13th Article. These are Service. The Collect for the Sunday the only passages in the Anglican for- after Easter. The Prayer for all Con- mularies in which the word occurs. 492 NATURE OF PROPHETICAL TEACHING Lect. XX. Prophets This limitation or concentration of the Di¬ vine Inspiration to the Prophetic spirit is in exact accordance with the facts of the case. The Prophets being, as their name both in Greek and Hebrew implies, the most immediate organs of the Will of God, it is in their utterances, if anywhere, that we must expect to find the most direct expression of that Will. How¬ ever high the sanction given to King or Priest, in the Old Dispensation, they were always to bow be¬ fore the authority of the Prophet. The Prophetic teaching is, as it were, the essence of the Revelation, sifted from its accidental accompaniments. It per¬ vades, and, by pervading, gives its own vitality to those portions of the Sacred Volume which cannot strictly be called Prophetical. Josephus speaks of the succession of the Prophets, as constituting the main framework and staple of the sacred canon of the Old Testament. 1 What has been beautifully said of the Psalms as compared with the Levitical and sacrificial system is still more true of the Prophets. “ As we “ watch the weaving of the web, we endeavor to “ trace through it the more conspicuous threads. “ Long time the eye follows the crimson: it disappears “ at length; but the golden thread of sacred prophecy “ stretches to the end.” 2 It stretches to the end; for it is the chief outward link between the Old and the New Testament; and, though the New Testament has its own peculiarities, and though the spirit of Prophecy expresses chiefly the spirit of the Old Testa¬ ment, yet it may also fitly be called the spirit of the whole Bible. 1 Contra Apion, i. 8. This is well 2 The Rev. H. B. Wilson’s Three put in Oehler’s Treatise on the Old Sermons, p. 6. Testament. Lect. XX. OF THE PAST. 493 It is the substance of this teaching extending from Moses the First, to John, both in his Apocalypse and Gospel, the Last of the Prophets, that I here propose to set forth; with the view of ascertaining what there was in it which gave to the Jewish people that pro¬ gressive movement of which I spoke in the preceding Lecture, — that elevation and energy, which has given to all the Prophetic writings so firm a hold on the sympathies of the Church and of the world. The Prophetic teaching may be divided into three parts, according to the three famous w r ords of S. Ber¬ nard, — Respice , Aspice , Prospice. The interpretation of the Divine Will respecting the Past, the Present, and the Future. I. Of the Prophets as teachers of the experience of the Past, we know but little. It is true that The Proph _ we have references to many of the books Teachers w r hich they thus wrote: the acts of David, by ofthe Past - Samuel, Gad, and Nathan : of Solomon and Jeroboam, by Nathan and Iddo; of Rehoboam, by Iddo and Shem- aiah. But these unfortunately have all perished. Alas! of all the lost works of antiquity, is there any, heathen or sacred, to be named with the loss of the biography of David by the Prophet Nathan ? We can, however, form some notion of these lost books by the fragments of historical waitings that are left to us in the Prophetical Books of Isaiah and Jeremiah, and also by the likelihood that some of the present canonical books were founded upon the more ancient works which they themselves must have tended to supersede. And it is probably not without some ground of this sort, that the Prophetical Books of the Old Testament, in the Jewish Canon, include the 494 NATURE OF PROPHETICAL TEACHING Lect. XX, Books of Joshua, Judges, Samuel, and Kings. From these slight indications of the mission of the Prophets as Historians, we cannot deduce any detailed instruc¬ tion. But it is important to have at least this proof, that the study of history, so dear to some of us, and by some so lightly thought of, was not deemed be¬ neath the notice of the Prophets of God. And, if we may so far assume the ancient Jewish nomencla- «/ ture as to embrace the historical hooks of the Canon just enumerated within the “ Prophetical circle,” their structure furnishes topics well worthy of the consider¬ ation of the theological student. In that marvellously tessellated workmanship which they present, — in the careful interweaving of ancient documents into a later narrative, — in the editing and re-editing of passages, where the introduction of a more modern name or word betrays the touch of the more recent historian, — we trace a research which may well have occu¬ pied many a vacant hour in the prophetic schools of Bethel or Jerusalem, and at the same time a freedom of adaptation, of alteration, of inquiry, which places the authors or editors of these original writings on a level far above that of mere chroniclers or copyists. Such a union of research and freedom gives us on the one hand a view of the office of an inspired or prophetic historian, quite different from that wffiich would degrade him into the lifeless and passive in¬ strument of a power which effaced his individual energy and reflection; and, on the other hand, pre¬ sents us with something like the model at which an historical student might well aspire even in our more modern age. And if, from the handiwork and compo¬ sition of these writings, we reach to their substance, we find traces of the same spirit, which will appear Lect. XX. IN THE PRESENT. 495 more closely as we speak of the Prophetical Office in its two larger aspects. By comparing the treatment of the history of Israel or Judah in the four pro¬ phetical Books of Samuel and of Kings, with the treatment of the same subject in the Books of Chroni¬ cles, we are at once enabled to form some notion of the true characteristics of the Prophetical office as distinguished from that of the mere chronicler or Levite. But this will best be understood as we pro¬ ceed. II. I pass therefore to the work of the Prophets as interpreters of the Divine Will in regard to the Present (1.) First, what was the characteristic of their di¬ rectly religious teaching which caused the Their early Fathers to regard them as, in the best rheol °^* sense of the word, “ Theologians ? ” It consisted of two points. (1.) Their proclamation of the Unity and of the Spirituality of the Divine Nature. They proclaimed the Unity of God, The Un . and hence the energy with which they attacked of God - the falsehoods and superstitions which endeavored to take the place of God. This was the negative side of their teaching, and the force with which they urge it, the withering scorn with which Elijah and Isaiah speak of the idols of their time, 1 however venerable, however sacred in the eyes of the worshippers, is a proof that even negative statements of theology may at times be needed, and have at any rate a standing- place amongst the Prophetic gifts. The direct object of this negative teaching virtually expired with the immediate call for it under the Old Dispensation. But the positive side of their teaching was the assertion 496 NATURE OE PROPHETICAL TEACHING Lect. XX. of the spirituality, the morality of God, His justice, The Spirit- His goodness, His love. This revelation of God. yof the Divine Essence, this manifestation of God in some unusually impressive form, constituted, as we have already seen, and shall see further as we ad¬ vance, at once the first call and the sustaining force of every Prophetic mission. This continued to the very end, and received its highest development in the Prophets of the New Testament. Then the Prophetic teaching of the moral attributes of God was brought out more strongly than ever. Then Grace and Truth were declared to be the only means of conceiving or approaching to the Divine Essence. 1 Then He who was Himself the Incarnation of that Grace and Truth was enabled to say, as no Prophet before or after could have said, Ye “ believe in God, believe also in Me .” 2 To that crowning point of the Prophetic The- ology, the Apostolic Prophets direct our attention so clearly, that no more needs to be said on this subject. The doctrine of the Incarnation of Christ by the last of the Prophets, S. John, is the fitting and necessary close of the glimpse of the moral nature of the Di¬ vinity revealed to the first of the Prophets, Moses. (2.) And now how is this foundation of the Prophetic Teaching carried out into detail ? This brings us to Moral the ma i n characteristic of the Prophetic, as ceremonial distinguished from all other parts of the Old duties. Dispensation. The elevated conception of the Divinity may be said to pervade all parts of the Old Testament, if not in equal proportions, yet at least so distinctly as to be independent of any special office for its enforcement. But in the Prophetical teaching there is something yet more peculiarly its own. 1 John i. 14, 17. 2 Ibid. xiv. 1. Lect. XX. IN THE PEES ENT. 497 The one great corruption, to which all Religion is exposed, is its separation from morality. The very strength of the religious motive has a tendency to exclude, or disparage, all other tendencies of the human mind, even the noblest and best. It is against this cor¬ ruption that the Prophetic Order from first to last constantly protested. Even its mere outward appear¬ ance and organization bore witness to the greatness of the opposite truth, of the inseparable union of morality with religion. Alone of all the high offices of the Jewish Church the Prophets were called by no outward form of consecration, and were selected from no special tribe or family. But the most effective witness to this great doctrine was borne by their act¬ ual teaching. Amidst all their varieties, there is hardly a Prophet, from Samuel downwards, whose life or writings do not contain an assertion of this truth. It is to them as constant a topic, as the most peculiar and favorite doc¬ trine of any eccentric sect or party is in the mouths of the preachers of such a sect or party at the present day, and it is rendered more forcible by the form which it takes of a constant protest against the sacrificial sys¬ tem of the Levitical ritual, which they either, in com¬ parison with the Moral Law, disparage altogether, or else fix their hearers’ attention to the moral and spiritual truth which lay behind it. Listen to them one after another: — Samuel. — “ To obey is better than sacrifice, and to “ hearken than the fat of rams.” 1 David. — “ Thou “ desirest not sacrifice; else would I give it. Thou “ delightest not in burnt-offering. The sacrifices of “God are a broken spirit. Sacrifice and burnt-offer- 1 1 Sam. xv. 22. 63 498 NATURE OF PROPHETICAL TEACHING Lect. XX. “ ing thou didst not desire. Then said I, Lo, I come, “ to do thy will, 0 God.” 1 Hosea. — “ I desired mercy, “and not sacrifice.” 1 2 3 Amos. — “I hate, I despise your “feast days, and I will not smell in your solemn as¬ semblies. Though ye offer me burnt-offerings, and “your meat-offerings, I will not accept them, neither “will I regard the peace-offerings of your fat beasts. “ But let judgment run down as waters, and righteous- “ ness as a mighty stream.” 3 Micah. — “ Shall I come “before the Lord with burnt-offerings, with calves of “ a year old ? Will the Lord be pleased with thousands “ of rams, or with ten thousands of rivers of oil ? shall “ I give my first-born for my transgression, the fruit of “ my body for the sin of my soul ? He hath shewed “ thee, 0 man, what is good; and what doth the Lord “require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, “and to walk humbly with thy God?” 4 Isaiah .—“Your “new moons and your appointed feasts my soul hateth: “ they are a trouble unto me; I am weary to bear them. “ Wash you, make you clean; cease to do evil ; learn to “ do well. Is not this the fast that I have chosen, to “ loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy bur- “ dens, and to let the oppressed go free ? ” 5 Ezekiel. — “ If a man be just, and do that which is lawful and “ right... he shall surely live. The soul that sinneth, “it shall die. . . . When the wicked man doeth that “ which is lawful and right, he shall save his soul alive; “ he shall surely live and not die.” 6 Mercy and justice, judgment and truth, repentance and goodness, — not sacrifice, not fasting, not ablutions, — is the burden of the whole Prophetic teaching of 1 Ps. li. 16, 17; xl. 6-8. 2 Hosea vi. 6. 3 Amos v. 21-24. 4 Micah vi. 6-8. 5 Isa. i. 14-1 7; lviii. 6. 6 Ezek. xviii. 5-9 ; 20-28. Lect. XX. IN THE PRESENT. 499 the Old Testament. And it is this which distinguishes at once the Prophetical from the Levitical portions even of the historical books. Compare the exaltation of moral duties in the Books of Kings with the exal¬ tation of merely ceremonial duties in the Books of Chronicles, and the difference between the two ele¬ ments of the Sacred history is at once apparent. In the New Testament the same doctrine is repeal¬ ed in terms slightly altered, but still more emphatic. In the words of Him who. is our Prophet in this the truest sense of all, I need only refer to the Sermon on the Mount, 1 and to the remarkable fact that His chief warnings are against the ceremonial, the narrow, the religious world of that age. 2 In His deeds, I need only refer to His death — proclaiming as the very central fact and doctrine of the New Religion, that sacrifice, henceforth and forever, consists not in the blood of bulls and goats, 3 but in the perfect surrender of a perfect Will and Life to the perfect Will of an All Just and All Merciful God. In the Epistles the same Prophetic strain is still carried on by the eleva¬ tion of the spirit above the letter, 4 of love above all other gifts, 5 of edification above miraculous signs, 6 of faith and good works above the outward distinction of Jews and Gentiles. 7 With these accents on his lips, the Last of the Prophets expired. 8 It is this assertion of the supremacy of the moral and spiritual above the literal, the ceremonial, and the dogmatical elements of religion, which makes the con¬ trast between the Prophets and all other sacred bodies 1 Matt, v.-vii. 6 Ibid. xiv. 5. 2 Ibid. xv. 1-20, xxiii.; Luke xv. 7 Rom. ii. 29 ; Gal. ii. 5, 20, vi. 3 Heb. x. 7. 15 ; Tit. ii. 8. 4 2 Cor. iii. 6. 8 1 John ii. 3, 4; Jerome, on Gal. 5 1 Cor. xiii. 1, 2. vi. 500 NATURE OE PROPHETICAL TEACHING Lect. XX. which have existed in Pagan, and, it must even be added, in Christian times. They were religious teach¬ ers without the usual faults of religious teachers. They were a religious body, whose only professional spirit was to be free from the usual prejudices, restraints, and crimes by which all other religious professions have been disfigured. They are not without grievous shortcomings; they are not on a level with the full light of the Christian Revelation. But, taken as a whole, the Prophetic order of the Jewish Church re¬ mains alone. It stands like one of those vast monu¬ ments of ancient days, — with ramparts broken, with inscriptions defaced, but stretching from hill to hill, conveying in its long line of arches the rill of living water over deep valley and thirsty plain, far above all the puny modern buildings which have grown up at its feet, and into the midst of which it strides with its massive substructions, its gigantic height, its majestic proportions, unequalled and unrivalled. We cannot attain to it. But even whilst we relin- Exampie fiuish the hope, even whilst we admire the Christian g°°J Providence of God, which has preserved ciergy. f or us fois unapproachable memorial of His purposes in former ages, there is still one calling in the world in which, if any, the Prophetic spirit, the Prophetic mission, ought at least in part to live on, — and that is, the calling of the Christian clergy. We are not like the Jewish Priests, we are not like the Jewish Levites, but we have, God be praised, some faint resemblances to the Jewish Prophets. Like them, we are chosen from no single family or caste; like them, we are called not to merely ritual acts, but to teach and instruct; like them, we are brought up in great institutions which pride themselves on fostering Lect. XX. IN THE PRESENT. 501 the spirit of the Church in the persons of its Minis¬ ters. 1 0 glorious profession, if we would see our¬ selves in this our true Prophetic aspect! We all know what a powerful motive in the human mind is the spirit of a profession, the spirit of the order, the spirit (as the French say) of the body, to which we belong. Oh if the spirit of our profession, of our order, of our body, were the spirit, or anything like the spirit, of the ancient Prophets! if with us, truth, charity, jus¬ tice, fairness to opponents, were a passion, a doctrine, a point of honor, to be upheld, through good report and evil, with the same energy as that with which we uphold our position, our opinions, our interpreta¬ tions, our partnerships! A distinguished prelate 2 has well said, “ It makes all the difference in the world “ whether we put the duty of Truth in the first place, “ or in the second place.” Yes! that is exactly the difference between the spirit of the world and the spirit of the Bible. The spirit of the world asks, first , " Is it safe, Is it pious ? ” secondly , “ Is it true ? ” The spirit of the Prophets asks, first, " Is it true ? ” secondly, “ Is it safe ? ” The spirit of the world asks, first, “ Is it prudent ? ” secondly, “ Is it right ? ” The spirit of the Prophets asks, first, "Is it right?” sec¬ ondly, “ Is it prudent ? ” It is not that they and we hold different doctrines on these matters, hut that we hold them in different proportions. What they put first, we put second; what we put second, they put first. The religious energy which w T e reserve for ob¬ jects of temporary and secondary importance, they reserved for objects of eternal and prinu ry impor¬ tance. When Ambrose closed the doors of the church of Milan against the blood-stained hands of the devout 1 See Lecture XVIII. 2 Archbishop Whately 502 NATURE OF PROPHETICAL TEACHING Lect. XX. Theodosius, he acted in the spirit of a prophet. When Ken, in spite of his doctrine of the Divine right of Kings, rebuked Charles II. on his death-bed for his long-unrepented vices, those who stood by were justly reminded of the ancient Prophets. When Sa¬ vonarola, at Florence, threw the whole energy of his religious zeal into burning indignation against the sins of the city, high and low, his sermons read more like Hebrew prophecies than modern homilies. We speak sometimes with disdain of moral essays, as dull, and dry, and lifeless. Dull, and dry, and lifeless they truly are, till the Prophetic spirit breathes into them. But let religious faith and love once find its chief, its proper vent in them, as it did of old in the Jewish Church, — let a second Wesley arise who shall do what the Primate of his day wisely but vainly urged as his gravest counsel on the first Wesley, 1 — that is, throw all the ardor of a Wesley into the great unmistakable doctrines and duties of life as they are laid down by the Prophets of old and by Christ in the Gospels, — let these be preached with the same fervor as that with which Andrew Melville enforced Presbyterianism, or Laud enforced Episcopacy, or Whit¬ field Assurance, or Calvin Predestination, — then, per¬ chance, we shall understand in some degree what was the propelling energy of the Prophetic order in the Church and Commonwealth of Israel. 3. This is the most precious, the most supernatural, Appeal of all the Prophetic gifts. Let me pass on to consciences the next, wdiich brings out the same character- hearers. is ic in another and equally peculiar aspect. The Prophets not merely laid down these general principles of theology and practice, but w r ere the di* 1 See Wesley’s Life, i. 222. Lect. XX. IN THE PRESENT. 503 rect oracles and counsellors of their countrymen in action ; and for this was required the Prophetic in¬ sight into the human heart, which enabled them to address themselves not merely to general circum¬ stances, hut to the special emergencies of each partic¬ ular case. Often they were consulted even on trifling matters, or on stated occasions. So Saul wished to ask Samuel after his father: “ When men went to inquire of God, then they spake, Come, let us go to the Seer.” 1 So the Shunamite went at new moons or Sabbaths, 2 to consult the man of God on Carmel. But more usually they addressed themselves spontaneously to the persons or the circumstances which most needed encouragement or warning. Suddenly, whenever their interference was called for, they appeared, to encour¬ age or to threaten; Elijah, before Ahab, like the ghost of the murdered Naboth on the vineyard of Jezreel; Isaiah, before Aliaz at the Fuller’s Gate, be¬ fore Hezekiah, as he lay panic-struck in the palace; Jeremiah, before Zedekiah; John, before Herod; the Greatest of all, before the Pharisees in the Temple. Whatever public or private calamity had occurred was seized by them to move the national or individual conscience. Thus Elijah spoke, on occasion of the drought; Joel, on occasion of the swarm of locusts; Amos, on occasion of the earthquake. Thus, in the highest degree, our Lord, as has been often ob¬ served, drew His parables from the scenes immedi¬ ately around Him. What the ear received slowly, was assisted by the eye. What the abstract doctrine failed to effect, was produced by its impersonation in the living forms of nature, in the domestic incidents of human intercourse. The Apostles, in this respect, 1 1 Sam. ix. 9. 2 2 Kings iv. 23. 504 NATURE OF PROPHETICAL TEACHING Lkct. XX by adopting the written mode of communication, are somewhat more removed from personal contact with those whom they taught than were the older Prophets. But S. Paul makes his personal presence so felt in all that he writes, fastens all his remarks so closely on existing circumstances, as to render his Epistles a means, as it were, of reproducing himself. He almost always conceives himself “ present with them in spirit,” 1 as speaking to his reader “face to face.” 2 Every sen¬ tence is full of himself, of his readers, of his circum¬ stances, of theirs. And in accordance with this is his description of the effect of Christian prophesying. “ If all prophesy, and there come in one that be- “ lieveth not, or one unlearned, he is convinced of “all, he is judged of all.” 3 That is, one prophet after another shall take up the strain, and each shall reveal to him some fault which he knew not before. One after another shall ask questions which shall reveal to him his inmost self, and sit as judge on his inmost thoughts, “and thus” (the Apostle continues) “ the secrets of his heart are made manifest , and so “falling down on his face” (awe-struck) “he will wor- “ship God, and report that God is in you of a truth .” This is the true definition by one of the mightiest Prophets, of what true Prophesying is, — what it is in its effects, and why it is an evidence of a Real, or Divine Presence, wherever it is found. It is this close connection with the thoughts of men, this ap¬ peal to their hearts and consciences, this reasoning together with every one of us, which, on the one hand, makes the interpretation of Scripture, especially of the Prophetic Scriptures, so dependent on our knowledge of the characters of those to w r hom each 1 1 Cor. y. 3, 4. 2 2 Cor. xiii. 2. 3 1 Cor. xiv. 24, 25. Lect. XX. IN THE PRESENT. 505 part is addressed, which, on the other hand, makes each portion bear its own lesson to each individual soul. “ Thou art the man.” 1 So in the fulness of the Prophetic spirit Nathan spoke to David, and so in a hundred voices God through that goodly com¬ pany of Prophets still speaks to us, and “convinces us” of our sin and of His Presence. And has this Prophetic gift altogether passed away from our reach ? Not altogether. That divine intui¬ tion, that sudden insight into the hearts of men, is, indeed, no longer ours, or ours only in a very limited sense. Still it fixes for us the standard at which all preachers and teachers should aim. Not our thoughts, but the thoughts of our*hearers, is wdiat we have to explain to ourselves and to them. Not in our lan¬ guage, but in theirs, must we speak, if we mean to make ourselves understood by them. By talking with the humblest of the poor in the parishes where our lot as pastors is cast, we shall gain the best ma¬ terials — materials how rich and how varied and how just — for our future sermons. By addressing our¬ selves, not to any imaginary congregation, or to any abstract and distant circumstances, but to the actual needs which we know, in the hearts of our neighbors and ourselves, we shall rouse the sleeper, and startle the sluggard, and convince the unbelievers, and en¬ lighten the unlearned. So the great Athenian teacher, — the nearest approach to a Jewish or Christian Prophet that the Gentile world ever produced, — so Socrates worked his way into the minds of the Grecian, and so of the European world. “ To him,” as has been well said by his modern biographer, “the pre¬ cept knew thyself was the holiest of texts.” 2 He ap- 1 2 Sam. xii. 7. 2 Grote’s History of Greece , viii. 602. 64 506 NATURE OF PROPHETICAL TEACHING Lect. XX. plied it to himself, he applied it to others, and the result was the birth of all philosophy. But not less is it the basis of all true prophesying, of all good preaching, of all sound preparation for the pastoral office. 4. Another characteristic of the teaching of the Relations Prophets to be briefly touched upon is to be Country, found in their relation not to individuals, but to the state. At one time they were actually the leaders of the nation, as in the case of Moses, Debo¬ rah, Samuel, David • in earlier times their function in this respect was chiefly to maintain the national spirit by appeals to the Divine help, and to the past recollections of their history*. This function became more complex as the Israelitish affairs became more entangled with those of other nations. But still, throughout, three salient points stand out. The first is, that, universal as their doctrine was, and far above any local restraints as it soared, they were thoroughly absorbed in devotion to their country. To say that they were patriots, that they were good citizens, is a very imperfect representation of this side of the Pro- Patriotism. phetic character. They were one with it, they were representatives of it; they mourned, they rejoiced with it, and for it, and through it. Often we cannot distinguish between the Prophet and the people for whom he speaks. 1 Of that uneasy hostility to the national mind, which has sometimes marked even the noblest of disappointed politicians and of disaffected churchmen, there is hardly any trace in the Hebrew Prophet. And although with the changed relations of the Jewish Commonwealth, the New Tes¬ tament Prophets could no longer hold the same posi- 1 See especially Isa. xl.-liv.; Lamentations ili. 1-66. Lect. XX. IN THE PRESENT. 507 tion, yet even then the national feeling is not ex¬ tinct. Christ Himself wept over His country. 1 His Prophecy over Jerusalem 2 is a direct continuation of the strain of the older Prophets. The same may he said of S. Paul’s passionate allusions to his love for the Jewish people in the Epistle to the Romans, 3 which are almost identical with those of Moses. 4 I will not go further into the enlargement of this feel¬ ing, as it followed the expansion of the Jewish into the Christian Church. It is enough that our atten¬ tion should be called to this example for the teachers of every age. Public spirit, devotion to a public cause, indignation at a public wrong, enthusiasm in the national welfare, — this was not below the loftiest of the ancient Prophets; it surely is still within the reach of the humblest of Christian teachers. Again, they labored to maintain, and did to a con¬ siderable degree maintain, in spite of the divergence of tribes, and disruption of the monarchy, the state of national unity. The speech of Oded reproaching the northern kings for the sale of the prisoners of the south is a sample of the whole prophetic spirit. “ Now ye purpose to keep under the children of “ Judah and Jerusalem for bondmen and bondwomen a unto you: but are there not with you, even with “ you, sins against the Lord your God ? ” 5 To Unity, balance the faults of one part of the nation against the other in equal scales, was their difficult but con¬ stant duty. 6 To look forward to the time when Judah should no more vex Ephraim, nor Ephraim envy Judah, 7 was one of their brightest hopes. If at 1 Luke xix. 41. 5 2 Ckron. xxviii. 10. 2 Matt. xxiv. 6 Ezek. xvi. 3 Rom. ix. 3, x. 1, xi. 1. 7 Isa. xi. 13. 4 Ex. xxxii, 32. 508 NATURE OF PROPHETICAL TEACHING Lect. X times, they increased the bitterness of the division, yet on the whole their aim was union, founded on a sense of their common origin and worship, overpow¬ ering the sense of their separation and alienation. And thirdly, and as a consequence of this, we are struck by the variety, the moderation of the Propheti¬ cal teaching, changing with the events of their time. It is instructive to see how at different epochs dip* simplicity ferent evils attracted their attention; how the and variety same institutions, which at one time seemed of applica¬ tion. Contrast Isaiah’s denunciation of the hierarchy with Malachi’s support of them. 1 Contrast Isaiah’s confi¬ dence against Assyria with Jeremiah’s despair before Chaldsea. 2 There is no one Shibboleth handed down through the whole series. Only the simple faith in a few great moral and religious principles remains, the rest is constantly changing. Only the poor are con¬ stantly protected against the rich; only the weaker side is always regarded with the tender compassion which belongs especially to Him to whom all the Prophets bare witness. To the poor, to the oppressed, to the neglected, the Prophet of old was and is still the faithful friend. To the selfish, the luxurious, the insolent, the idle, the frivolous, the Prophet was and is still an implacable enemy. 3 It is this aspect which has most forcibly brought out the well-known likeness of the Prophets both to ancient orators and modern statesmen. 4 The often- 1 Isa. i. 10 ; Malachi i. 8 (See ject, Nov. 1830 ( Life and Corresp. Arnold’s Life , i. 259). i. 234, 235). 2 Isa. xxxvii. 0 ; Jer. xxxvii. 8. 4 Comp. Hebrew Politics in the time 3 Isa. iii. 14, v. 8, xxxii. 5 ; Jer. of Sennacherib and Sargon, by Sir E. v. 5, xxii. 13; Amos vi. 3 ; James v. Straehey; also The Prophets of the l. See Arnold’s Letters on this sub- Old Testament; in Tracts for Priests and People , No. 8. good, at another seemed fraught with evil. Lect. XX. IN THE PRESENT. 509 quoted lines of Milton best express both the resem¬ blance and the difference : — “ Their orators thou then extoH’st, as those The top of eloquence ; statists indeed, And lovers of their country, as may seem; But herein to our Prophets far beneath, As men divinely taught, and better teaching The solid rules of civil government, In their majestic, unaffected style, Than all the oratory of Greece and Rome. In them is plainest taught, and easiest learnt, What makes a nation happy, and keeps it so, What ruins kingdoms, and lays cities flat; These only with our law best form a king.” 1 5. One point yet remains in connection with their teaching — and that is their absolute indepen- Indepen _ dence. Most of them were in opposition to dence> the prevailing opinion of their countrymen for the time being. Some of them were persecuted, some of them were in favor with God and man alike. But in all, there was the same Divine Prophetic spirit — of elevation above the passions, and prejudices, and dis¬ tractions of common life. “ Be not afraid of them; “be not afraid of their faces; be not afraid of their “ words. Speak my words unto them, whether they “ will hear, or whether they will forbear.” “ I have “ made thy face strong against their faces, and thy “ forehead strong against their foreheads : as an ada- “ mant harder than flint I have made thy forehead; “ fear them. not, neither be dismayed.” 2 This is the position of all the Prophets, in a greater or less de¬ gree — it is the position, in the very highest sense of all, of Him whose chief outward characteristic it was that He stood high above all the influences of His age, and was the Bock against which they dashed in 1 Parad. Reg. iv. 353. 2 Ezek. ii. 6, 7; iii. 8, 9. 510 NATURE OF PROPHETICAL TEACHING Lect. XX. vain, and on which they were ground to powder. This element of the Prophetical Office deserves special consideration, because it pervades their whole teach¬ ing, and because it is in its lower manifestations within the reach of all. What is it that is thus rec¬ ommended to us ? Not eccentricity, not singularity, not useless opposition to the existing framework of the world, or the Church in which we find ourselves. Not this — which is of no use to any one — but this which is needed by every one of us, a fixed resolu¬ tion to hold our own against chance and accident, against popular clamor and popular favor, against the opinions, the conversation, of the circle in which we live ; a silent look of disapproval, a single word of cheering approval — an even course, which turns not to the right hand or to the left, unless with our own full conviction — a calm, cheerful, hopeful endeavor to do the work that has been given us to do, whether we succeed or whether we fail. And for this Prophetic independence, what is, what was, the Prophetic ground and guaranty ? There were two. One was that of which I will proceed to speak presently, — that which has almost changed the meaning of the name of the Prophets, — their constant looking forward to the Future. The other was that they felt themselves standing on a rock that was higher and stronger than they, — the support and the presence of God. It was this which made their inde¬ pendent elevation itself a Prophecy, because it spoke of a Power behind them, unseen, yet manifesting it¬ self through them in that one quality which even the world cannot fail at last to recognize. Give us a man, young or old, high or low, on whom we know that we can thoroughly depend, — who will stand i Lect. XX. OF THE FUTURE. 511 firm when others fail, — the friend faithful and true, the adviser honest and fearless, the adversary just and chivalrous; in such an onO there is a fragment of the Rock of Ages — a sign that there has been a Prophet amongst us. The consciousness of the presence of God. In the Mussulman or the Hindoo this makes itself felt in the entire abstraction of the mind from all outward things. In the fanatic, of whatever religion, it makes itself felt in the disregard of all the common rules of hu¬ man morality. In the Hebrew Prophet it makes itself felt in the indifference to human praise or blame, in the unswerving fidelity to the voice of duty and of conscience, in the courage to say what he knew to be true, and do what he knew to be right. This in the Hebrew Prophet — this in the Christian man — is the best sign of the near vision of Almighty God ; it is the best sign of the Real Presence of Jesus Christ, the Faithful and True, the Holy and the Just, the Power of God, and the Wisdom of God. III. This brings us to the Prophetic teaching of the Future. It is well known that in the popular Th e . . A x teaching of and modern use of the word since the seven-the Future, teenth century, by a “ Prophet” is meant almost ex¬ clusively one who predicts or foretells; and to have asserted the contrary has even been thought heretical. We have already seen that this assumption is itself a grave error. 1 It is wholly unauthorized, either by the Bible or by our own Church. It has drawn off * 1 See Lecture XIX. “ It is sim- “ cient words for prophecy all refer to “ply a mistake to regard prediction as “a state of the mind, an emotion, an “ synonymous with prophecy, or even “ influence, and not to prescience.” “ as the chief portion of a prophet’s (Mr. Payne Smith’s Mes.sio.nic Inter- “duties. Whether the language be pretation of Isaiah, Introd. p. xxx.) Hebrew, Greek, or Latin, the an- 512 NATURE OF PROPHETICAL TEACHING Lect. XX. the attention from the fundamental idea of the Pro¬ phetical office to a subordinate part. It has caused us to seek the evidence of Prophecy in those portions of it which are least convincing, rather than in those which are most convincing—in those parts which it has most in common with other systems, rather than in those parts which distinguish it from all other systems. But this error, resting as it does on an etymological mistake, could never have obtained so wide a diffusion, without some ground in fact ; and this ground is to be found in the vast relation of the Prophetic office to the Future, which I shall now attempt to draw forth—dwell¬ ing, as before, on the general spirit of the institution. It is, then, undoubtedly true that the Prophets of the Prospec- Old Dispensation did in a marked and especial predictive mann er look forward to the Future. It was tendencies, -f-pjg gave to the whole Jewish nation an upward, forward, progressive character, such as no Asi¬ atic, no ancient, I may almost say, no other nation has ever had in the same degree. Representing as they did the whole people, they shared and they personated the general spirit of tenacious trust and hope that dis¬ tinguishes the people itself. Their warnings, their con¬ solations, their precepts, when relating to the past and the present, are clothed in imagery drawn from the future. The very form of the Hebrew verb, in which one tense is used both for the past and the future, lends itself to this mode of speech. They were con¬ ceived as shepherds seated on the top of one of the hills of Judaea, seeing far over the heads of their flocks, and guiding them accordingly; or as watchmen stand¬ ing on some lofty tower, with a wider horizon within their view than that of ordinary men. 1 “ Watchman, 1 Isa. lvi. 10, 11. Lect. XX. OF THE FUTURE. 513 » what of the night? Watchman, what of the night?” 1 was the question addressed to Isaiah by an anxious world below. “ I will stand upon my watch,” is the expression of Habakkuk, “ and set me upon the tower, “and will watch to see what He will say unto me. “ Though the vision tarry, wait for it: it will surely “come; it will not tarry.” 2 Their practical and relig¬ ious exhortations were, it is true, conveyed with a force which needed no further attestation. Of all of them, in a certain sense, it might be said as of the Greatest of all, that they spoke “as one having au¬ thority and not as the scribes.” Still there are special signs of authority besides, and of these, one of the chief, from first to last, was their “speaking things to come ” 3 And this token of Divinity extends (and here again I speak quite irrespectively of any special fulfil¬ ments of special predictions) to the whole Prophetic order, in Old and New Testament alike. There is nothing which to any reflecting mind is more signal a proof of the Bible being really the guiding book of the world’s history, than its anticipations, predic¬ tions, insight, into the wants of men far beyond the age in which it was written. That modern element which we find in it, — so like our own times, so un¬ like the ancient framework of its natural form; that Gentile, European, turn of thought, — so unlike the Asiatic language and scenery which was its cradle; that enforcement of principles and duties, which for years and centuries lay almost unperceived, because 1 Isa. xxi. 11. pie, Elijah, and John the Baptist, hav- 2 Hab. ii. 1, 3. ing uttered either no prediction or 3 It is observable that although the only such as were very subordinate), power of prediction is never made the the failure of a prediction is in one test of a true prophet (some of the remarkable passage made the test of greatest of them, Samuel, for exam- a false prophet (Deut. xviii. 22). 65 514 NATURE OF PROPHETICAL TEACHING Lect. XX. hardly ever understood in its sacred pages ; but which we now see to be in accordance with the utmost re¬ quirements of philosophy and civilization ; those prin¬ ciples of toleration, chivalry, discrimination, proportion, which even now are not appreciated as they ought to be, and which only can be fully realized in ages yet to come; these are the unmistakable predictions of the Prophetic spirit of the Bible, the pledges of its inex¬ haustible resources. Thus much for the general aspect of the Prophetical office as it looked to the Future. Its more special aspects may be considered under three heads. (1.) First, their contemplation and prediction of the Political political events of their own and the surround- predic- . tions. ing nations. It is this which brings them most nearly into comparison with the seers of other ages and other races. Every one knows instances, both in an¬ cient and modern times, of predictions which have been uttered and fulfilled in regard to events of this kind. Sometimes such predictions have been the result of political foresight. “ To have made predictions which “ have been often verified by the event, seldom or “ never falsified by it,” has been suggested by one well competent to judge, 1 as an ordinary sign of statesman¬ ship in modern times. “ To see events in their begin- “ nings, to discern their purport and tendencies from “ the first, to forewarn his countrymen accordingly,” was the foremost duty of an ancient orator, as described by Demosthenes. 2 Many instances will occur to stu¬ dents of history. Even within our own memory the great catastrophe of the disruption of the United States 1 Mill’s Representative Government , Strachey on the Prophets of the Old 224. Testament , pp. 2, 29. 2 De Corona, 73. See Sir E. Lect. XX. OF THE FUTURE. 515 of America was foretold, even with the exact date, several years beforehand. 1 Sometimes there has been an anticipation of some future epoch in the pregnant sayings of eminent philosophers or poets; as for ex¬ ample, the intimation of the discovery of America by Seneca; or of Shakspeare by Plato, or the Reformation by Dante. Sometimes the same result has been pro¬ duced by a power of divination, granted, in some in¬ explicable manner, to ordinary men. Of such a kind were many of the ancient oracles, the fulfilment of which, according to Cicero, 2 could not be denied with¬ out a perversion of all history. Such was the fore¬ shadowing of the twelve centuries of Roman dominion by the legend of the apparition of the twelve vultures to Romulus, 3 and which was so understood four hun¬ dred years before its actual accomplishment. 4 Such, but with less certainty, was the traditional prediction of the conquest of Constantinople by the Mussulmans; the alleged predictions by Archbishop Malachi, whether composed in the eleventh or the sixteenth century, of the series of Popes down to the present time; not to speak of the well-known instances which are recorded both in French and English history. 5 But there are several points which at once place the Prophetic predic¬ tions on a different level from any of these. It is not that they are more exact in particulars of time and place; none can be more so than that of the twelve centuries of the Roman Empire; and our Lord Him¬ self has excluded the precise knowledge of times and 1 Spence on the American Union , ces of more or less value, see a col- p. 7. lection in Das Buck der Wahr- und 2 De Divinatione, i. 19. Weis-Sag ungen, published at Ratis- 3 Gibbon, ch. 35. bon, 1850, or in the smaller French 4 Ibid. ch. 52. work, Le Livre de Toutes les Pro - 5 For these, and many other instan- phe'ties et Predictions , Paris, 1849. 516 NATURE OF PROPHETICAL TEACHING Lect. XX. seasons from the widest and highest range of the prophetic vision. The difference rather lies in their close connection with the moral and spiritual charac¬ ter of the Prophetic mission, and their freedom (for the most part) from any of those fantastic and arbi¬ trary accompaniments by which so many secular pre¬ dictions are distinguished. They are almost always founded on the denunciations of moral evil, or the ex¬ altation of moral good, not on the mere localities or cities concerned. The nations whose doom is pro¬ nounced thus become representatives of moral princi¬ ples and examples to all ages alike. Israel, Jerusalem, Egypt, Babylon, Tyre, are personifications of states or principles still existing, 1 and thus the predictions con¬ cerning them have, as Lord Bacon says, constantly germinant fulfilments. The secular events which are thus predicted are (with a few possible exceptions 2 ) within the horizon of the Prophet’s age, and are thus capable of being turned to the practical edification of the Prophet’s own age and country. As in the vision of Pisgah, the background is suggested by the fore¬ ground. No object is introduced which a contemporary could fail to appreciate and understand in outline, al¬ though its remoter and fuller meaning might be re¬ served for a far distant future. These predictions are also, in several striking instances, made dependent on the moral condition of those to whom they are ad¬ dressed, and are thus divested of the appearance of blind caprice or arbitrary fate, in which the literal predictions of both ancient and modern divination so 1 This is well brought out in Ar- else admit (on quite independent nold’s Sermons on Prophecy. grounds) of another explanation. 2 The cases referred to are such Other occasions will occur for treat- as need not be here discussed. They ing them in detail. are either confessedly exceptional, or Lect. XX. OF THE FUTURE. 517 much delight. “ Yet forty days and Nineveh shall be “ overthrown.” No denunciation is more absolute in its terms than this; and of none is the frustration more complete. The true Prophetic lesson of the Book of Jonah is, that there was a principle in the moral gov¬ ernment of God, more sacred and more peremptory even than the accomplishment of the most cherished predic¬ tion. “God saw their works, that they turned from “ their evil way ; and God repented of the evil, that “ He had said that He would do unto them • and He “did it not.” 1 What here appears in a single case is laid down as a universal rule by the Prophet Jeremiah. “At what instant I shall speak concerning a nation “. . .to destroy it; if that nation . . . turn from “ their evil, I will repent of the evil that I thought to “ do unto them. And at what instant I shall speak con- “ cerning a nation ... to build and to plant it; if it “ do evil in my sight, that it obey not my voice, then “ I will repent of the good wherewith I said I would “benefit them.” 2 With these limitations, it is acknowledged by all students of the subject, that the Hebrew prophets made predictions concerning the fortunes of their own and other countries which were unquestionably fulfilled. 3 There can be no reasonable doubt, for ex¬ ample, that Amos foretold the captivity and return of Israel; and Michael the fall of Samaria; and Eze¬ kiel the fall of Jerusalem; and Isaiah the fall of Tyre; and Jeremiah the limits of the Captivity. But, even if no such special cases could be proved, the grandeur of the position which the Prophets occu¬ py in this respect is one which it needs no attes¬ tation of any particular prediction to enhance, and 1 Jonah iii. 10. 2 Jer. xviii. 7-9. 3 See Ewald (1st Ed.), iii. 303. 518 NATURE OF PROPHETICAL TEACHING Lect. XX which no failure of any particular prediction can im¬ pair. From those lofty watch-towers of Divine spec¬ ulation, from that moral and spiritual height which raised them far above the rest of the ancient world, they saw the rise and fall of other nations, long be¬ fore it was visible to those nations themselves. " They “ were the first in all antiquity,” it has been well said, "to perceive that the old East was dead; they " celebrated its obsequies, in advance of the dissolu- " tion which they saw to be inevitable.” 1 They were, as Dean Milman has finely expressed it, the " great " Tragic Chorus of the awful drama that was unfold- “ ing itself in the Eastern world. As each independent " tribe or monarchy was swallowed up • in the uni- “ versal empire of Assyria, the seers of Judah watched " the progress of the invader, and uttered their sub- “ lime funeral anthems over the greatness and pros- " perity of Moab and Ammon, Damascus and Tyre.” 2 And in those funeral laments and wide-reaching pre¬ dictions we trace a foretaste of that universal sym¬ pathy with nations outside the chosen circle, — of that belief in an all-embracing Providence, — which has now become part of the belief of the highest in¬ telligence of the world. There may be many inno¬ cent questions about the date, or about the interpre¬ tation of the Book of Daniel, and of the Apocalypse. But there can be no doubt that they contain the first germs of the great idea of the succession of ages, of the continuous growth of empires and races under a law of Divine Providence, the first sketch of the Education of the world, and the first outline of the Philosophy of History. 3 1 Quinet, Genie des Religions , p. 2 History of the Jews , i. 298. 372. 3 See Liicke, On S. John , iv. 154. Lect. XX. OF THE FUTURE. 519 (2.) I pass to the second grand example of the predictive spirit of the Prophets. It was the Messianic distinguishing mark of the Jewish people that Sns!°" their golden age was not in the past, but in the future; that their greatest Hero (as they deemed Him to be) was not their founder, but their founder’s latest descendant. Their traditions, their fancies, their glories, gathered round the head not of a chief, or warrior, or sage that had been, but of a King, a De¬ liverer, a Prophet who was to come. Of this singu¬ lar expectation the Prophets were, if not the chief authors, at least the chief exponents. Sometimes He is named, sometimes He is unnamed; sometimes He is almost identified with some actual Prince of the coming or the present generation, sometimes He recedes into the distant ages. 1 But again and again, at least in the later Prophetic writings, the vista is closed by His person, His character, His reign. And almost everywhere the Prophetic spirit, in the deline¬ ation of His coming, remains true to itself. He is to be a King, a Conqueror, yet not by the common weapons of earthly warfare, but by those only weapons which the Prophetic order recognized, — by justice, mercy, truth, and goodness, — by suffering, by endur¬ ance, by identification of Himself with the joys, the sufferings of His nation, by opening a wider sym¬ pathy to the whole human race than had ever been opened before. 2 That this expectation, however ex¬ plained, existed in a greater or less degree amongst the Prophets, is not doubted by any theologians of any school whatever. It is no matter of controversy. It is a simple and universally recognized fact, that, 2 Ps. xlv. 4, lxxii. 11-14; Isa. xl. 1-9, liii. 1-9 ; Jer. xxxii. 15, 16. 1 See Ewald, iii. 428, 9. 520 NATURE OF PROPHETICAL TEACHING Lect. XX filled with these Prophetic images, the whole Jewish nation — nay, at last the whole Eastern world — did look forward with longing expectation to the coming of this future Conqueror. Was this unparalleled ex¬ pectation realized ? And here again I speak only of facts which are acknowledged by Germans and Frenchmen, no less than by Englishmen, by critics and by sceptics, even more fully than by theologians and ecclesiastics. There did arise out of this nation a Character by universal consent as unparalleled as the expectation which had preceded Him. Jesus of Nazareth was, on the most superficial no less than on the deepest view we take of His coming, the greatest name, the most extraordinary power, that has ever crossed the stage of History. And this greatness con¬ sisted not in outward power, but precisely in those qualities in which from first to last the Prophetic order had laid the utmost stress,—justice and love, goodness and truth. I push this argument no further. Its force is weakened the moment we introduce into it any con¬ troverted detail. The fact which arrests our atten¬ tion is, that side by side with this great expecta¬ tion, appears the great climax to which the whole History leads up. It is a proof, if anything can be a proof, of a unity of design, in the education of the Jews, in the history of the world. It is a proof that the events of the Christian Dispensation were planted on the very centre of human hopes and fears. It is a proof that the noblest hopes and aspirations that were ever breathed were not disappointed; and that when “ God spake by the Prophets ” of the coming Christ, He spake of that which in His own good time He was certain to bring to pass. Lect. XX. OF THE FUTURE. 521 (3.) There is one further class of predictions in which the Prophetic writings abound, and which still more directly connects itself with their general spirit, and of which the predictions I have already noticed are only a part, — the Future, as a ground of consolation to the Church, to individuals, to the human race. It is this which gives to the Bible at large that hopeful, victorious, triumphant character, which distinguishes it from the morose, querulous, narrow, desponding spirit of so much false religion, ancient and modern. The Poiver of the Future . — This is the fulcrum by which they kept up the hopes of their country, and on its support we can rest as well as they. The Future of the Church. — I need not repeat those glorious predictious which are familiar to all. Predic . But their spirit is applicable now as well as then. Although, in this sense, we prophesy Church - and predict, as it were at second-hand from them, yet our anticipations are so much the more certain, as they are justified and confirmed by the experience, which the Prophets had not, of two thousand years ago. We may be depressed by this or that failure of good projects, of lofty aspirations. But the Prophets and the Bible bid us look onward. The world, they tell us, as a whole tends forwards and not backwards. The losses and backslidings of this generation, if so be, will be repaired in the advance of the next. “ To one far-off Divine event,” slowly it may be and un¬ certainly, but still steadily onwards, u the whole cre¬ ation moves.” Work on in faith, in hope, in confi¬ dence ; the future of the Church, the future of each particular society in which our lot is cast, is a solid basis of cheerful perseverance. The very ignorance of the true spirit of the Bible of which we complain, 66 522 NATURE OF PROPHETICAL TEACHING Lect. XX. is the best pledge of its boundless resources for the future. The doctrines, the precepts, the institutions, which as yet lie undeveloped, far exceed in richness, in power, those that have been used out, or been fully applied. The Future of the Individual. — Have we ever Predic- thought of the immense stress laid by the of°the Prophets on this mighty thought ? What is individual, ^he sen tence with which the Church of Eng¬ land opens its morning and evening service, but a Prophecy, a Prediction, of the utmost importance to every human soul ? “ When the wicked man shall turn “ away from his wickedness, and doeth that which is “ lawful and right, he shall save his soul alive!' So spoke Ezekiel, 1 advancing beyond the limits of the Mosaic law. So spoke no less Isaiah 2 and Micah: 3 “Though “ your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as “ snow.” “ He will turn again; He will have compas- “ sion upon us. He will subdue our iniquities. Thou “ wilt cast all their sins into the depths of the sea.” So spoke, in still more endearing accents, the Prophet of Prophets, Jesus Christ Himself, when He uttered His world-wide invitation, “Him that cometh to me, “ I will in no wise cast out.” “ Her sins which are “ many are forgiven.” “ Go and sin no more.” The Future is everything to us, the Past is nothing. The turn, the change, the fixing our faces in the right, instead of the wrong direction, — this is the difficulty, this is the turning-point, this is the crisis of life. But that once done, the Future is clear before us. The despondency of the human heart, the timidity or the austerity of Churches or of sects, may refuse this great Prophetic absolution; may cling to pen- 1 Ezek. xviii. 27. 2 Isa. i. 18. 3 Micah vii. 19. Lect. XX. OF THE FUTURE. 523 ances and regrets for the past; may shrink from the glad tidings that the good deeds of the Future can blot out the sorrows and the sins of the Past. But the whole Prophetic teaching of the Old and New Testament has staked itself on the issue; it hazards the bold prediction that all will be well when once we have turned; it bids us go courageously forward, in the strength of the Spirit of God, in the power of the life of Christ. There is yet one more Future, — a future which to the Prophets of old was almost shut out, but Predic . which it is the glory of the Prophets of p °"® r ° fa the New Dispensation to have predicted to Llfe ' us with unshaken certainty, — the Future life. In this respect, the predictions of the latest of the Prophets far transcend those which went before. The heathen philosophers were content with guesses on the immortal future of the soul. The elder Hebrew Prophets were content, for the most part, with the consciousness of the Divine support in this life and through the terrors of death, but did not venture to look further. But the Christian Prophets, gathering up the last hopes of the Jewish Church into the first hopes of the Christian Church, throw themselves boldly on the undiscovered world beyond the grave, and fore¬ tell that there the wishes and fears of this world would find their true accomplishment. To this Pre¬ diction so confident, yet so strange at the time, the intelligence no less than the devotion of mankind has in the course of ages come round. Powerful minds, which have rejected much beside in the teaching of the Bible, have claimed as their own this last expec¬ tation of the simple Prophetic school, which founded its hopes on the events of that first Easter day, that 524 NATURE OF PROPHETICAL TEACHING Lect. XX. first day of the week, “ when life and immortality were brought to light.” And it is a prediction which shares the character of all the other truly Prophetic utterances; in that it directly bears on the present state of being. Even without dwelling on the special doctrine of judgment and retribution, the mere fact of the stress laid by the Prophets on the certainty of the Future is full of instruction, hardly perhaps enough borne in mind. Look forwards, we sometimes say, a few days or a few months, and how differently will all things seem. Yes; but look forwards a few more years; and how yet more differently will all things seem. From the height of that Future, to which on the wings of the ancient Prophetic belief we can transport ourselves, look back on the present. Think of our troubles, as they will seem when we know their end. Think of those good thoughts and deeds which alone will survive in that unknown world. Think of our controversies, as they will appear, when we shall be forced to sit down at the feast with those whom we have known only as opponents here, but whom we must recognize as companions there. To that Future of Futures which shall fulfil the yearnings of all that the Prophets have desired on earth, it is for us, wherever we are, to look onwards, upwards, and forwards, in the constant expectation of something better than we see or know. Uncer¬ tain as to “ the day and hour ,” 1 and as to the manner of fulfilment, this last of all the Predictions still, like those of old, builds itself upon the past and present. “ It doth not yet appear what we shall be; “ but we know that when He shall appear, we shall “ be like Him; for we shall see Him as He is .” 2 1 Mark xiii. 32. 9 1 John iv. 2. t \ APPENDIX I. THE TRADITIONAL LOCALITIES OF ABRAHAM’S MIGRATION. APPENDIX II. THE CAVE OF MACHPELAH. APPENDIX III. THE SAMARITAN PASSOVER. . ■ l , - . ■ . :'ia • “ivJWS ■■ •- ■ * . . <■ ^ . . APPENDIX I. —•— NOTE A. ON LECTURE I. TRADITIONAL LOCALITIES OF ABRAHAM’S MIGRATION. I. Where was Ur of the Chaldees? There are four claimants : — 1. Ur* a fortress on the Tigris near Hatra, mentioned only by Ammianus Marcellinus (xxv. 8), apparently the mod- Kaleh ern Kaleh Sherghat, on the western bank of the Tigris, Sher £ hat - between the Greater and Lesser Zab. 1 To this no traditional sanctity is attached. The arguments in its favor are (1.) the identity of its ancient name. (2.) The distance from Haran eastwards, which agrees better than that of the other three situ¬ ations with the indications of the Sacred narrative. For the authorities in its behalf see Chwolson’s Sabier , i. 313. 2. Warka , on the present eastern bank of the Euphrates, above the junction with the Tigris. It was formerly Warka. identified with Ur by Sir H. Rawlinson, on the grounds (1.) Of Arabic and Talmudic traditions, of which he gives an ex¬ ample from a MS. in his possession. 2 (2.) Of the likeness of its name to Orchoe , one of the Grecian forms of Ur. See a good description of it in Loftus’s Chaldoea and Susiana , 163. 3. Mugheyr, on the western bank of the Euphrates, close to the confluence of the Two Rivers. It is now identified Mugheyr. with Ur by Sir H. Rawlinson, 3 on the grounds (1.) Of the name of Urukh or Hur , found on cylinders in the neighborhood. (2.) “ Of the remains of a Temple of the Moon,” whence, per¬ haps, the name of Camarina given to Ur by Eupolemus. 4 (3.) 1 Journal of Geog. Society, xii. 481. 2 Journal of Asiatic Society , xii. 481. 8 Athenaeum , Jan. 20, 1855, pp. 84-95. 4 Euseb. Prcep. Ev. ix. 17. 528 HARAN. App. I. Of the existence of a district called Ibra , whence he derives the name of Hebrew?- To these arguments may be added the appar¬ ent identification, by Josephus, of Chaldsea with Babylonia; — “ Terah migrated from Chaldcea into Mesopotamia.” 2 4. Orfa or Urfa. The place has been sufficiently described Orfa. in Lecture I. p. 6. The arguments in favor of its identity with Ur are as fol¬ lows : — a.) it is on the eastern side of the Euphrates, a qualification of Ur required not only by the usual interpretation of the word “ Hebrew, 5 ’ but by Josh. xxiv. 3, “ beyond the river whereas Mugheyr now, and Warka probably in ancient times, 3 was on the western side. (2.) The general tenor of the narrative closely connects Ur wfith Haran and Aram. 4 These were in the north-western por¬ tion of Mesopotamia, within reach of Orfa. (3.) Whatever may be the later meanings of the name Chas- dim or Clialdceans , there can be little doubt that Arpha-Chesed (Arphaxad) must be the Arrapachitis of the north, 5 and that in this connection, 6 therefore, the Chasdim spoken of must be in the north. 7 (4.) The local features of Orfa, as above described, are guar¬ anties for its remote antiquity as a city. (5.) The traditions are at least as strong as those elsewhere, which may have originated in the anxiety of the Jewish settle¬ ment of Babylonia to claim the possession of their ancestor’s birthplace, and in the shifting of the name of Chaldaea. II. Where was Haran ? Till within the last year, the identity of the Patriarchal Haran with that in the north of Mesopotamia (indicated in Lecture I. p. 9), had never been doubted. Within the last twelve months, Dr. Beke (in letters to the Haran. “Athenasum” 8 ) has urged the claims of a small village, 1 See Loftus’s Chaldcea and Susiana , p. 5 Ptol. Geog. vi. 1. 131. 6 Gen. xi. 10, 11, 28. 2 Ant. i. 6, 5. 7 Sec Ewald, Gesch. i. 378. 8 Loftus, 131. 8 Nov. 23, 1861; Feb. 1, 15; March 1, 4 Gen. xi. 27, 28, 31; xii. 1-4. 29; and May 24, 1862. Arp. I. H All AN. 529 called j Hdrrdn-el-Awamid, about four hours’ journey east of Da¬ mascus, on the western border of the lake into which the Barada and the Awaj empty themselves. His argument, which further requires the identification of Mesopotamia ( Aram-Naharaim , Aram of the Two Rivers) with the plain of Damascus between the Barada and the Awaj, is based, (1.) on the identity of name, “ Haran ; ” (2.) on the supposed likeness of natural features, wells, &c.; (3.) on the journey of seven days taken by Laban between Haran and Gilead; which, though suitable for a jour¬ ney from Damascus to Gilead, seems too short a time for a jour¬ ney of 350 miles from the Euphrates. The first and second arguments prove nothing more for the Haran of Damascus than for that of Mesopotamia. But the last must be allowed to have its weight. No doubt the natural construction of the passage in Gen. xxxi. 23, is (as given in Lecture I. p. 10), that seven days was the usual time consumed in the journey. But in the face of the powerful arguments brought by Mr. Porter, Mr. Ainsworth, and Sir Henry Rawlinson, in favor of the Mesopotamian Haran, 1 this single expression can hardly be thought to turn the scale. The number may be a round number, — the start of the journey may be from some intermediate spot, — or the dromedaries of Laban may be supposed to have travelled with the speed of “ the 44 regular Arab post, which consumes no more than eight days 44 in crossing the desert from Damascus to Baghdad, a distance 44 of nearly 500 miles.” 2 The only other argument which might be adduced seems to me to be that Josephus, 3 whilst he dwells much on Abraham’s stay at Damascus, does not mention Haran. This might confirm the notion that Haran and Damascus were virtually in the same region. But the uniformity of tradition in favor of the Eastern Haran, the absence of any in favor of the Western, the more remarkable from the abundance of other pa¬ triarchal and Abrahamic legends in the neighborhood of Damas¬ cus— the difficulty of supposing the 44 Aram-Naharaim ” of the Hebrew text and the 44 Mesopotamia ” of the LXX. to be the country of the Barada and Awaj, and 44 the river” (“ the JVa- Aar”) of Gen. xxxi. 21, to have other than its usual signification 1 Athenaeum , Nov. 30; Dec. 7, 1861; 2 Athenaeum, April 19, p. 530. March 22; April 6,19; May 24, 1862. 8 Ant. i. 7, 2. 67 \ 530 HARAN. App. I. of the Euphrates — are, it appears to me, almost decisive in favor of the old interpretation. I subjoin a narrative of an excursion taken by the Rev. S. Robson (the excellent Protestant Missionary at Damascus) to Harran-el-Awamid, in the spring of this year, at my request, to examine the columns which remain on the spot, and which have given it its present name. “ Last month, Mr. Sandwith, Mr. Crawford, and I went to “ Harran-el-Awamid. We started at five o’clock in the morn- “ ing, and rode there at a walking pace in four hours and a quar- “ ter. We returned to the city in the evening. “We could not form an opinion as to the kind or the form of “ the building, to which the three columns now standing had be- “ longed. In different parts of the village there are pieces of “ columns of the same black stone, but of small diameters, and there are large dressed stones of the same material, which evi¬ dently were in ancient buildings. The first house, in the west “ of the village, iis the Mosque. Attached to it is a large yard, “ in which is a well, with two or three stone troughs, used for “ ablutions. The well and the troughs are in a small building, “ and here is the Greek inscription. It is on a piece of a column “ five or six feet long, and fourteen or fifteen inches in diameter. tt u (t u It lies horizontally, in the angle between the wall and the ground, — one side a little in the wall, and another a little in “ the ground. The beginnings of the lines of the inscription are “ visible, but the ends are on the lower side of the stone in the ground. Apparently there had been four lines. The whole is greatly worn and defaced, but several letters in the first line, “ and two in the second, are legible as below : — AAUA (CONSn .... . A . O . .... u u “ The mark (between A and C in the first line) I do not un- “ derstand, and the II was doubtful to us. We could not guess “ at a single letter in the third and fourth lines. The inscription “ had not been carefully cut; the letters were not well formed, “ nor of the same size, and the lines were not quite straight. Arp. I. HARAN. 531 “ The people showed great unwillingness to have the stone “ moved. The inscription is so much defaced, that we could not 44 read even the first line as far as it is exposed, and it seemed “ most likely that, if the whole were uncovered, we would find 44 hardly another letter legible. I confess also that I doubted 44 much whether the inscription would prove of any consequence 44 if we had the whole of it. The result w^as that we gave up 44 our design of moving the stone. The water in the well stood u only five or six feet below the surface of the ground, and the 44 supply is evidently abundant. It is used chiefly for ablutions 44 and for drinking, by the people when in the Mosque, but 44 never for watering cattle. It tasted to us slightly brackish. 46 There is another well outside the yard of the Mosque. The 44 water in it was only two or three feet below the surface of the “ ground, but it is stagnant, and is never used now for any 44 purpose. There are no wells in or around the village except 44 these two. 44 The whole region is remarkably level, and is well cultivated. 44 There were very large fields of wheat all around. I do not 44 know that any land near the village is now used only for past- 44 ure. There is an abundance of water for irrigation and other 44 purposes. The cattle drink from ponds, of which there are 44 several near the village. Water for drinking and cooking is 44 taken from what the people call 4 the river,’ an artificial stream 44 constructed in the mode described in Porter’s ‘ Five Years in “ Damascus.’ The Barada is distant more than half an hour to “ the north, and the lakes some two hours to the east. Proba- “ bly the artificial river did not exist in the time of Rebekah, but “ the water, now abundant on or near the surface of the ground, 44 was perhaps even more so then. But the Harran near Orfa 44 in Mesopotamia has also, it is said, an abundant supply of water “ from several small streams near it. 44 Is it in the least probable that the Greek inscription could 44 throw any light on the question about this place ? At most it 44 could only give an ancient tradition, and if such a tradition ever 44 existed, how have all traces of it disappeared from books and 44 from among the people ? Do not the traditions of Jews, Mos- 14 lems, and Christians point to one place in the region between 532 TRADITIONS OF ABRAHAM. App. L “ the Euphrates and Tigris still called Mesopotamia (‘ between 44 the rivers,’ bein-en-naharein ) in Arabic, as it appears to have 44 been called in Hebrew. 44 The name Harran has not a form usual in Arabic, and na- “ tive scholars tell me the name is not Arabic. Harrdn , the 44 Arabic name of the town beyond the Euphrates, has an Ara- 44 bic form as if from harr , heat, and may mean a hot or burned 44 place.” 1 For the whole history of the Mesopotamian Haran, see the learned chapter in Chwolson’s Sabier , Book I. ch. x. — Hdrran und die Hdrranier. III. The Place of Abraham , at Birzeh near Damascus. 44 The name of Abraham is still famous at Damascus, and Birzeh. 44 there is shown a village named from him called 44 4 the habitation of Abraham ’ ” (obc^o-is ’Afipafiov'). So Jose¬ phus 2 concludes a quotation from the lost work of Nicolaus of Damascus, whether in his own words, or those of Nicolaus, does not appear. Mr. Porter 3 first called attention to this passage in connection with the fact that 44 in the village of Birzeh, one hour 44 north of Damascus, there is a chapel known by the name of 44 the Patriarch, Mesjid Ibrahim , held in high veneration by the 44 Moslems. Pilgrimages are made to it at a certain season 44 every year,” at which takes place a miraculous procession — like that of the Doseh at Cairo — of a Dervish riding over the bodies of his followers. He adds that Ibn ’Asaker (in his history of Damascus, written before the sixth century of the Hejra) gives a long account of it, and says, that 44 here Abraham 44 worshipped God, when he turned back from the pursuit of 44 the kings who had plundered Sodom, and had carried away 44 Lot.” In consequence of this notice, I visited the spot in the spring of 1862. The village lies at the entrance of the defile which penetrates into the hills at the N.W. corner of the Damascus 1 Dr. Beke has since communicated an boundary of Palestine, is well worthy of account of his journey to Harran-el-Awa- notice, mid to the Geographical Society. His de- 2 Ant. i. 7, § 2. script ion of the strongly marked character 3 Five Years in Damascus , i. 82. of the hills of Gilead, as the easternmost App. I. BIRZEH. 533 plain on the road to Helbon. Through the defile rushes out a rivulet lined with verdure. A large walnut-tree stands in front of the irregular homely mosque which is built on the craggy side of the barren range. Its upper story is occupied by the cham¬ ber opening into the sacred cavern ; its lower story serves for the accommodation of pilgrims. I subjoin the account of it, and of the legend attached to it, from a letter of Mr. Robson, who afterwards kindly explored the mosque for me in detail: — “We crossed a very small court, and entered a very plain “ mosque about thirty feet long and eighteen or twenty feet wide. “ It stands against the side of the mountain, and the north part “ of the west wall is partly formed of the native rock. At that “ part is a small square gallery from which we walked into a “ narrow crooked passage in the rock. It is a natural cleft “ from two to three feet wide, and extending twelve or fifteen “ feet into the hill. At the end of it, where it is quite dark, “ there is some reddish clay, which is regarded as peculiarly “ sacred, and visitors usually carry away a little of it. There “ were inscriptions on the walls of the mosque of the kind usu- “ ally found in such places. “ The legend I shall briefly give as we heard it on the spot. “ Nimrod was warned that a child to be born and to be named “ Abraham would overthrow his power, and he ordered his “ Wezeer to cause all women with child in his dominions to be “ seized and the infants destroyed. The Wezeer’s daughter was “ married to Abraham’s father, and he desired his son-in-law to “ take care that his wife did not become pregnant. She became “ pregnant notwithstanding, but she successfully concealed her “ state from her father and every one. When the time of her “ delivery came she fled from her home in Bethlehem, and wan- “ dered on till she came to Birzeh, when the cleft we saw opened “ before her, and she entered and Abraham was born. It was “ then that the clay was tinged red. Fearing Nimrod, she con- “ cealed the infant in the hole for a long time, coming occasion- “ ally from Bethlehem to nurse him. “ This story seems to be implicitly believed by the attendants “ and visitors at the mosque, the villagers, and the common peo- “ pie of the city. It is, however, only a vulgar legend. Liter- 534 TRADITIONS OF ABRAHAM. Apr. I. “ ary Moslems disavow it. With them the Makam Ibrahim is “ simply a Mesjid to Ibrahim, — a mosque or place of worship “ sacred or consecrated to Abraham. This is all the learned say “ of the place. I lately saw an Arabic MS. account of the “ Moslem holy places in Syria, composed by a man who was “judge (kady) of Erzeroum, two or three hundred years ago. “ In this book the place at Birzeh is described just as I have “ stated above. Neither in it, nor in conversation, have I found “ any reason assigned for the connection of the name of the pa- “ triarch with the place, nor any tradition of his having ever “ visited it. “ Learned Moslems are very strict and critical in judging the “ claims of sacred graves and other holy places. For instance, “ the grave of Mohammed is attested by a series of legal doc- “ uments, a new one being drawn up every year; and this is “ the only grave of a prophet which they will admit to be cer- “ tainly known. Even the graves of the patriarchs at Hebron “ are regarded as only the supposed and probable resting-places “ of those whose name they bear.” App. II. THE CAVE OF. MACHPELAH. 535 APPENDIX II. THE CAVE OF MACHPELAH. In my Lecture on the History of Abraham (p. 37) I en¬ larged on the extraordinary interest attached to the Cave of Machpelah. At that time I little thought that I should ever be enabled to penetrate within the inaccessible sanctuary which surrounds it. This privilege I owe to the effort made by His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales, in 1862, to obtain an entrance into the Mosque of Hebron ; the success of which gave to his Eastern journey a peculiar value, such as has at¬ tached to the visit of no other European Prince to the Holy Land. The Cave of Machpelah is described in the Book of Genesis with a particularity almost resembling that of a legal The deed. The name of “ Machpelah,” or rather “ the of Mach- Machpelah,” appears to have belonged to the whole pelah ‘ district or property, 1 though it is applied sometimes to the cave, 2 and sometimes to the field. 3 The meaning of the word is quite uncertain, though that of “ double,” 4 which is adopted in all the ancient versions (almost always as if applied to the cave) is the most probable. In this “ Machpelah ” was afield, “ a culti¬ vated field,” which belonged not to one of the Amorite chiefs — Aner, Eshcol, or Mamre, but to a Hittite, Ephron the son of Zohar. 5 The field was planted, as most of those around the vale of Hebron, with trees : olives, terebinths, or ilexes. At one “ end,” 6 probably the upper end, was a cave. The whole 1 Gen. xxm. 17. “ The field of Ephron, which was in Machpelah.” 2 Ibid. 9; ^xv. 9. “ The cave of (the) Machpelah.” 3 Ibid. 19; xlix. 30; 1. 13. “The field )f (the) Machpelah.” 4 “ Spelunca duplex,” Vulgate, to otzt]- Ticuov, to SlitAovv, LXX. passim. Syriac, passim , except in Gen. 1. 13, where it is rendered “ the double field.” 5 Gen. xxiii. 8; xxv. 9. 3 Gen. xxiii. 9. 536 THE CAVE OF MACHPELAH. App. II place was “ in the face of Mamre,” 1 that is, as it would seem, opposite the oaks or terebinths of Mainre, the Amorite, where Abraham had pitched his tent. In this case, it would be im¬ mediately within view of his encampment; and the open mouth of the cave must be supposed to have attracted his attention long before he made the proposal which ended in his purchase of this, his first and only property in the Holy Land. “ There they “ buried Abraham and Sarah his wife; there they buried Isaac u and Rebekali his wife; and there,” according to the dying speech of the last of the Patriarchs, “ Jacob buried Leah ; ” and there he himself was buried 2 “ in the cave of the field of “ Maclipelah, which Abraham bought for a possession of a burial- “ place from Ephron the Hittite before Mamre.” 3 This is the last Biblical notice of the Cave of Machpelah. It is remarkable that after the close of the Book of Genesis no mention is made of it in the Scriptures. Even in the New Tes¬ tament, by a singular variation, in the speech of Stephen, 4 the tomb at Shechem is substituted for it. It is not even mentioned in the account of Caleb’s conquest of Hebron, nor of David’s reign there. The only possible allusion is the statement in Ab¬ salom’s life, that he had vowed a pilgrimage to Hebron. 5 But the formal and constant allusion to it in the Book of Gen¬ esis is a sufficient guaranty not only for a spot of that name hav¬ ing existed from early times, but also for its having been known at the time of the composition, and of the introduction of the Book into the Jewish Canon. That cannot be earlier, on any hypothesis, than the time of Moses, nor later than the times of the Monarchy. We are not left, however, entirely in the dark. Josephus, in The En- his “ Antiquities,” tells us that there were “ monuments closure. built there by Abraham and his descendants ; ” 6 and 1 This interpretation of the words “ be¬ fore ” or “ in the face of” Mamre, would require that Mamre should be on the hill immediately to the south of the modern town of Hebron. It must be remembered that such a position is inconsistent with the traditional locality either of the existing “oak” of Abraham, or (what is more im¬ portant) of the place of the sacred “ tere¬ binth ” worshipped as the spot of his en¬ campment, five miles to the north of He¬ bron. The Vulgate translates the words, “ e regione .” 2 Gen. xlix. 30. 3 Ibid. 1. 13. 4 Acts vii. 16. 6 2 Sam. xv. 7. 6 Ant. i. 14. App. II. THE ENCLOSURE. 537 in his “Jewish War,” that “ the monuments of Abraham and his sons ” (apparently alluding to those already mentioned in the Antiquities) “ were still shown at Hebron, of beautiful marble, and admirably worked.” 1 These monuments 2 can hardly be other than what the “ Bourdeaux Pilgrim,” in a. d. 333, de¬ scribes as “ a quadrangle of stones of astonishing beauty; ” and these again are clearly those which exist at the present day, — the massive enclosure of the Mosque. The tradition, thus carried up unquestionably to the age of Josephus, is in fact carried by the same argument much higher. For the walls, as they now stand, and as Josephus speaks of them, must have been built before his time. The terms which he uses imply this, and he omits to mention them amongst the works of Herod the Great, the only potentate who could or would have built them in his time, and amongst whose buildings they must have occupied, if at all, a distinguished place. But, if not erected by Herod, there is then no period at which we can stop short of the Monarchy. So elaborate and costly a structure is inconceivable in the dis¬ turbed and impoverished state of the nation after the Return. It is to the kings, at least, that the walls must be referred, and, if so, to none so likely as the sovereigns to whom they are ascribed by Jewish and Mussulman 3 tradition, — David or Solomon. Beyond this we can hardly expect to find a continuous proof. But by this time, we have almost joined the earlier tradition im¬ plied in the reception of the Book of Genesis, with its detailed local description, into the Jewish Sacred Books. With this early origin of the present enclosure its appearance 4 1 B. J. iv. 9, § 7. 2 For the later list of witnesses see Rob¬ inson’s B. It. ii. 77, 78. 3 The Mussulman name at the present day for the enclosure is “ the wall of Solo¬ mon.” 4 The peculiarities of the masonry are these: — (1.) Some of the stones are very large; Dr. Wilson mentions one 38 feet long, and 3 feet 4 inches deep ; others are 16 feet long, and 5 feet high. The largest in the Haram wall at Jerusalem is 24) feet. But yet (2.) the surface, in splendid preser¬ vation, is very finely worked, more so than the finest of the stones at the south and 68 south-west portion of the enclosure at Jerusalem; the sunken part round the edges (sometimes called the “bevel”) very shallow, with no resemblance at all to more modern “ rustic work.” (3.) The cross joints are not always vertical, but some are oblique. (4.) The wall is divided by pilasters about 2 feet 6 inches wide, and 5 feet apart, running the entire height of the ancient wall. There are eight of these pilasters at the ends, and sixteen at the sides of the enclosure. These observations are taken partly from Mr. Grove, who visited Hebron in 1859, partly from Dr. Robinson ( B . R. ii. 75, 76). The length 538 THE CAYE OF MACHPELAH. App. II. fully agrees. With the long continuity of the tradition agrees also the general character of Hebron and its vicinity. There is no spot in Palestine, except, perhaps, Mount Gerizim, where the genius loci has been so slightly disturbed in the lapse of centu¬ ries. There is already a savor of antiquity in the earliest men¬ tion of Hebron, “ built seven years before Zoan in Egypt.” 1 In it the names of the Amorite inhabitants were preserved 2 long after they had perished elsewhere; and from the time that the memory of Abraham first begun to be cherished there it seems never to have ceased. The oak, the “ antediluvian oak,” 3 “ the Terebinth as old as the Creation,” 4 were shown in the time of Josephus. The Terebinth gave to the spot where it stood the name which lingers there down to the present day, 5 centuries after the tree itself has disappeared. The fair held beneath it, the worship offered, shows that the Patriarch was regarded al¬ most as a Divinity. His name became identified not only with the sepulchral quadrangle, “ The Castle of Abraham,” but with the whole place. The Mussulman name of “ El-khalil,” “ The Friend” (of God), has as completely superseded in the native population the Israelite name of “ Hebron,” as the name of “ Hebron ” had already superseded the Canaanite name of “ Kirjath-arba.” The town itself, which in ancient times must have been at some distance (as is implied in the original account of the purchase of the burial-place) from the sepulchre, has de¬ scended from the higher ground on which it was formerly situ¬ ated, and clustered round the tomb which had become the chief centre of attraction. A similar instance may be noted in the name of El-Lazarieh, applied to Bethany, from the reputed tomb of Lazarus, round which the modern village has gathered. In our own country a parallel may be observed at St. Alban’s. The town of Verulam has crossed the river from the northern bank on which it formerly stood, and has climbed the southern and breadth are given by Dr. Robinson respectively at 200 and 150 feet, by Signor Pierotti at 1981 and 113! feet, who also makes the ancient wall 48 feet high, and 6t feet thick. 1 Num. xiii. 22. 2 Judg. i. 10. 3 Ant. i. 10, § 4, T7]V ’Slyvyrjv KakovfievTjv dpiiv. Dr. Rosen conjectures that this is the oak still shown under the name of Sibteh. 4 B. J. iv. 9, § 7. 5 The field immediately north-east of the building called Ramet-el-Khalil is known by the name of the “ Halkath-el- Butm,” “ Field of the Terebinth.” app. n. THE VISIT OF THE PRINCE OF WALES. 539 hill in order to enclose the grave of S. Alban, whose name, in like manner, has entirely superseded that of the original Verulam. For the sake of this sacred association, the town has become one of the Four Holy Places of Islam and of Judaism, — the t/ 7 other three in the sacred group being, in the case of Islam, Mecca, Medinah, and Jerusalem; in the case of Judaism, Jeru¬ salem, Safed, and Tiberias. The Mosque is said to have been founded and adorned in the successive reigns of Sultan Kelaoun, and of his son Naser-Mohammed, in the thirteenth and four¬ teenth centuries. Its property consists of some of the best land in the plains, of Sharon and Philistia. But of all the proofs of the sanctity of the place the most re¬ markable is the impenetrable mystery in which the sanctuary has been involved, being in fact a living witness of the unbroken local veneration with which the three religions of Jew, Christian, and Mussulman have honored the great Patriarch. The stones of the enclosure have, as has been said, been noticed from the time of Josephus downwards. The long roof of the Mosque, the upper part of its windows, the two minarets at the south¬ west and north-east corners rising above the earlier and later walls of the enclosure, have been long familiar to travellers. But what lay within had, till within the present year, been a matter if not of total ignorance, yet of uncertainty more pro¬ voking than ignorance itself. There were confused accounts 1 of an early Christian Church, of a subsequent mosque, of the cave and its situation, which transpired through widely contradictory statements of occasional Jewish and Christian pilgrims, Antoni¬ nus, Arculf, and Ssewulf, Benjamin of Tudela, and Maundeville. For the six hundred years since the Mussulman occupation, in A. D. 1187, no European, except by stealth, was known to have set foot within the sacred precincts. Three accounts alone of such visits have been given in modern times; one, extremely brief and confused, by Giovanni Finati, an Italian servant of Mr. Bankes, who entered as a Mussulman; 2 a second, by an English clergyman, Mr. Monro, who, however, does not profess 1 Of these there is a collection in the Egypt, published by the Oriental Transla- Appendix to Quatremere’s Translation of tion Fund, vol. i. part ii. pp. 239-242. the History of the Mamelook Sultans of 2 Travels of Finati, 1830, ii. 236. §40 THE CAYE OF MACHPELAH. App. II. to speak from his own testimony; 1 a third, by far the most dis¬ tinct, by the Spanish renegade Badia, or “ Ali Bey.” 2 While the other sacred places in Palestine — the Mosque at Jerusalem, within the last ten years, the Mosque of Damascus, within the last two years — have been thrown open, at least to distinguished travellers, the Mosque of Hebron still remained, even to royal personages, hermetically sealed. To break through this mystery, to clear up this uncertainty, even irrespectively of the extraordinary interest attaching to the spot, was felt by those most concerned, to be an object not unworthy of the first visit of a Prince of Wales to the Holy Land. From the moment that the expedition was definitively arranged The Visit i n January, 1862, it was determined by His Royal Prince of Highness and his advisers, that the attempt should be Wales. made, if it were found compatible with prudence, and with the respect due to the religious feelings of the native popula¬ tion. On arriving at Jerusalem, the first inquiry was, as to the possibility of accomplishing this long-cherished design. Mr. Finn, the English Consul, had already prepared the way, by re¬ questing a Firman from the Porte for this purpose. The Gov¬ ernment at Constantinople, aware of the susceptible fanaticism of the population of Hebron, sent, instead of a direct order, a Vizierial letter of recommendation to the Governor of Jerusalem, leaving in fact the whole matter to his discretion. The Governor, Suraya Pasha, — partly from the natural difficulties of the pro¬ posed attempt, partly, it may be, from his own personal feeling on the subject, — held out long and strenuously against taking upon himself the responsibility of a step which had hitherto no prece¬ dent. Even as lately as the preceding year, he had resisted the earnest entreaty of a distinguished French scholar and antiquary, though armed with the recommendations of his own government and of Fuad Pasha, then Turkish Commissioner in Syria. The negotiation devolved on General Bruce, the Governor of the Prince of Wales, assisted bv the interpreter of the party, Mr. Noel Moore, son of the Consul-General of Beyrut. It may 1 Summer Ramble in Syria , 1835, i. 242. 2 Travels of Ali Bey (1803-1807), ii. 232. App. II. THE VISIT OF THE PRINCE OF WALES. 541 truly be said, — as it was in enumerating the qualifications of the lamented General after his death, — that the tact and firmness which he showed on this occasion were worthy of the first ranks of diplomacy. Many grave political difficulties might, in other and grander spheres, have been unlocked by the dexterity with which he forced open the Mosque of Hebron. Suraya Pasha offered every other civility or honor that could be paid. The General took his position on the ground, that since the opening of the other Holy Places, this was the one honor left for the Turkish Government to award to the rare priv¬ ilege of a visit of the Prince of Wales. He urged, too, the feeling with which the request was made : that we, as well as they, had a common interest in the Patriarchs common to both Religions; and that nothing was claimed beyond what would be accorded to Mussulmans themselves. At last the Pasha ap¬ peared to give way. But a new alarm arising out of a visit of the Royal party to the shrine commonly called the Tomb of David, in Jerusalem, complicated the question again, and the Pasha finally declared that the responsibility was too serious, and that, unless the General actually insisted upon it, he could not undertake to guarantee the Prince’s safety from the anger either of the population or of the Patriarchs themselves. “ So strong “ is our sentiment on this subject,” he said, “ that, when some “ time ago the Prophet’s Tomb at Medina needed repairs, and “ a recompense was offered to any one who would undertake the “ repairs, a man was with difficulty found for the task ; he went “ in, he performed his work, he returned, — and was immediately u put to death: that was considered to be the only adequate rec- “ ompense for so sacrilegious an errand.” It was an anxious moment for the Prince’s advisers. On the one hand, there was the doubt, now seriously raised, as to the personal safety of the attempt, which, though it hardly entered into the Prince's own calculation, was a paramount question for those who were charged with the responsibility of the step. On the other hand, the point having been once raised, could not be lightly laid aside ; the more so, as it was strongly felt that to allow of a refusal in the case of the Prince of Wales, would establish an impregnable precedent against future relaxations, and close the doors of the 542 THE CAYE OF MACHPELAH. App. H. Mosque more firmly than ever against all inquirers. General Bruce adopted a course which ultimately proved successful. He announced to the Pasha the extreme displeasure of the Prince at the refusal, and declared his intention of leaving Jerusalem in¬ stantly for the Dead Sea ; adding that, if the sanctuary at He¬ bron could not be entered, the Prince would decline to visit Hebron altogether. We started immediately on a three days’ expedition. On the evening of the first day, it was found that the Pasha had followed us. He sent to reopen the negotiations, and offered to make the attempt, if the numbers were limited to the Prince and two or three of the suite, promising to go him¬ self to Hebron to prepare for the event. This proposal was guardedly, but decisively accepted. And accordingly, on our return to Jerusalem, instead of going northwards immediately, the plan was laid for the enterprise. It was early on the morning of Monday, the Tth of April, that we left our encampment, and moved in a southerly direction. The object of our journey was mentioned to no one. On our way, we were joined by Dr. Rosen, the Prussian Consul at Jerusalem, well known to travellers in Palestine, from his pro¬ found knowledge of sacred geography, and, in this instance, doubly valuable as a companion, from the special attention which he had paid to the topography of Hebron and its neighborhood. 1 Before our arrival at Hebron, the Pasha had made every prep¬ aration to insure the safety of the experiment. What he feared was, no doubt, a random shot or stone from some individual fanatic, some Indian pilgrim, such as are well known to hang about these sacred places, and who might have held his life cheap at the cost of avenging; what he thought an outrage on the sane- tities of his religion. Accordingly, as our long cavalcade wound through the narrow valley by which the town of Hebron is ap¬ proached, underneath the walls of those vineyards on the hill¬ sides, which have made the vale of Eshcol immortal, the whole road on either side for more than a mile was lined with soldiers. The Ap The native population, which usually on the Prince’s proach. approach to a town streamed out to meet him, was in¬ visible, it may be from compulsion, it may be from silent indig- 1 See his two Essays in the Zeitschrift der Morgenlandischen Geselhchaft , xi. 50; xii. 489. SKETCH PLAN OF THE MOSQUE AT HEBRON. REFERENCE TO FIGURES. - ♦ - 1. Shrine of Abraham. “ Sarah. “ Isaac. “ Rebekah. “ Jacob. “ Leah. “ Joseph. ( Two Moham- l medan Saints. 9. Fountain. 10. Raised platform. 11. Mihrab. 12. Merhala * * (or platform for the Muezzin). 13. Circular aperture leading to Cave. 14. Minbar (or pulpit). 2 . 3. 4. 5. 6 . 7. 8 . (( CC REFERENCE TO LETTERS. - ♦—- A. Flight of steps to outer door. B. Long narrow passage of easy steps, bounded on the left by ancient Jewish wall. C. Fountain. D. Here shoes are left at the door of a ceiled room. E. Passage Chamber. F. Mosque, containing two Shrines. G. Outer Court. H. Cloister of round arches, with domed roof. — The Outer Narthex. K. Inner Narthex. L. Nave of Byzantine Church. M. Long, lofty Room, leading to circular Chamber, con¬ taining Shrines of Jacob and Leah. N. Do., to that containing Shrine of Joseph. O. Minaret. P. Windows. Q. Minaret. R. The J&waliyeh Mosque, built by Jawali. _ ^ N. B. — The deep black lines mark the ancient Jewish Wall. The shaded parts are unknown. The accompanying Plan was drawn up by my friend and fellow-traveller, the Hon. R. H. Meade, with the assistance of Dr. Rosen, immediately after the visit to the Mosque. It may be compared with the Sketches of the Mosque, given from the information of Mussulmans, in Osburn's Palestine Past and Present, and in the Travels of Ali Bey. I have also compared it with an unpublished Plan shown to me by the kindness of M. Pierotti. Between these various sketches there are several points of difference. But it has been thought best to give Mr. Meade's Plan as it was drawn up at the time, independently of any other authority. * I have given the word Merhela as it was repeated at the time; the more so, as it agrees with the word Meherel , as used by Ali Bey ( Travels , ii. 232). But I am informed by Arabic scholars that no such word, in this sense, exists. The platform, in question, is, as I am told by Mr. Lane, called dikkel by the Arabs, and by the Turks, generally, Mahfil. REFERENCE TO LETTERS. -♦- A. Flight of steps to outer door. B. Long narrow passage of easy steps, bounded on the left by ancient Jewish wall. C. Fountain. D. Here shoes are left at the door of a ceiled room. E. Passage Chamber. F. Mosque, containing two Shrines. G. Outer Court. H. Cloister of round arches, with domed roof. — The Outer Narthex. K. Inner Narthex. L. Nave of Byzantine Church. M. Long, lofty Room, leading to circular Chamber, con¬ taining Shrines of Jacob and Leah. N. Do., to that containing Shrine of Joseph. O. Minaret. P. Windows. Q. Minaret. R. The J&waliyeh Mosque, built by Jawali. unknown. tance of Dr. Rosen, immediately after the issulmans, in Osburn’s Palestine Past and ess of M. Pierotti. Between these various Irawn up at the time, independently of any •Is, ii. 232). But I am informed by Arabic scholars generally, Mahfil. Arp. II. THE VISIT OF THE PRINCE OF WALES. 543 nation. We at length reached the greensward in front of the town, crowned by the Quarantine and the Governor’s residence. There Suraya Pasha received us. It had been arranged, in ac¬ cordance with the Pasha’s limitation of the numbers, that His Royal Highness should be accompanied, besides tjie General, by the two members of the party who had given most attention to Biblical pursuits, so as to make it evident that the visit was not one of mere curiosity, but had also a distinct scientific purpose. It was, however, finally conceded by the Governor, that the whole of the suite should be included, amounting to seven per¬ sons besides the Prince. The servants remained behind. We started on foot, two and two, between two files of soldiers, by the ancient pool of Hebron, up the narrow streets of the modern town, still lined with soldiers. Hardly a face was visi¬ ble as we passed through ; only here and there a solitary guard, stationed at a vacant window, or on the flat roof of a projecting house, evidently to guarantee the safety of the party from any chance missile. It was, in fact, a complete military occupation of the town. At length we reached the south-eastern corner of the massive wall of enclosure, the point at which inquiring trav¬ ellers from generation to generation have been checked in their approach to this, the most ancient and the most authentic of all the Holy Places of the Holy Land. “ Here,” said Dr. Rosen, “ was the furthest limit of my researches.” Up the steep flight of the exterior staircase — gazing close at hand on the polished surface of the walk amply justifying Josephus’s account of the marble-like appearance of the huge stones which compose it — we rapidly mounted. At the head of the staircase, which by its long ascent showed that the platform of the Mosque was on the uppermost slope of the hill, and therefore above the level where, if anywhere, the sacred cave would be found, a sharp turn at once brought us within the precincts, and revealed to us for the first time the wall from the inside. A later wall of Mussulman times has been built on the top of the Jewish enclosure. The enclos¬ ure itself, as seen from the inside, rises but a few feet above the platform. 1 1 The expression of Arculf (Early Trav- explained if we suppose that he was speak- ellers , p. 7) that the precinct was surround- ing of it as seen from the inside, ed by a low wall (liumili muro) might be 544 THE CAYE OF MACHPELAH. App. II. Here we were received with much ceremony by five or six The En- persons, corresponding to the Dean and Canons of a onthe Christian cathedral. They were the representatives of Mosque. the Forty hereditary guardians of the Mosque. We passed at once through an open court into the Mosque. The With regard to the building itself, two points at once Mosque. became apparent. First, it was clear that it had been originally a Byzantine church. To any one acquainted with the cathedral of S. Sophia at Constantinople, and with the monastic churches of Mount Athos, this is evident from the double nar- thex or portico, and from the four pillars of the nave. Secondly, it was clear that it had been converted at a much later period into a mosque. This is indicated by the pointed arches, and by the truncation of the apsis. The transformation was said by the guardians of the Mosque to have been made by Sultan Kelaoun. The whole building occupies (to speak roughly) one third of the platform. The windows are sufficiently high to be visible from without, above the top of the enclosing wall. I now proceed to describe the Tombs of the Patriarchs, pre- The mising always that these tombs, like all those in Mus- of tile 63 sulman mosques, and indeed like most tombs in Chris- Patriarchs. tian Churches, do not profess to be the actual places of sepulture, but are merely monuments or cenotaphs in honor of the dead who lie beneath. Each is enclosed within a separate chapel or shrine, closed with gates or railings similar to those which surround or enclose the special chapels or royal tombs in Westminster Abbey. The two first of these shrines or chapels are contained in the inner portico or narthex, before the entrance into the actual building of the Mosque. In the recess on the right is the shrine of Abraham, in the recess on the left that of The shrine Sarah, each guarded by silver gates. The shrine of of Sarah. Sarah we were requested not to enter, as being that of a woman. A pall lay over it. The shrine of Abraham, after a The Shrine momen f ai T hesitation, was, thrown open. The guar- or Ahra- dians groaned aloud. But their chief turned to us with the remark, “ The princes of any other nation 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 App. II. THE VISIT OF THE PRINCE OF WALES. 545 “ even this privilege.” He stepped in before us, and offered an ejaculatory prayer to the dead Patriarch, “ O Friend of God, for¬ give this intrusion.” We then entered. The chamber is cased in marble. The so-called tomb consists of a coffin-like structure, about six feet high, built up of plastered stone or marble, and hung with three carpets, 1 green embroidered with gold. They are said to have been presented by Mohamed II. the conqueror of Constantinople, Selim I. the conqueror of Egypt, and the late Sultan Abdul Mejid. Fictitious as the actual structure was, it was impossible not to feel a thrill of unusual emotion at standing on such a spot, — an emotion enhanced by the rare occasion which had opened the gates of that consecrated place, as the guardian of the Mosque kept repeating to us, as we stood round the tomb, “ to no one less than the representative of England.” Within the area of the church or mosque wrnre shown the tombs of Isaac and Rebekah. They are placed under separate chapels, in the walls of which are windows, and of which the gates are grated not with silver, but iron bars. Their situation, planted as they are in the body of the Mosque, may indicate their Christian origin. In almost all Mussulman sanctuaries, the tombs of distinguished persons are placed, not in the centre of the building, but in the corners. 2 To Rebekah’s mi . . The Shrine tomb the same decorous rule of the exclusion of male of Re¬ visitors naturally applied as in the case of Sarah’s. But, on requesting to see the tomb of Isaac, we were entreated not to enter; and on asking, with some surprise, why The Shrine an objection which had been conceded for Abraham m Ipaac ’ should be raised in the case of his far less eminent son, were answered that the difference lay in the characters of the two Patriarchs, — “Abraham was full of loving-kindness: he had “ withstood even the resolution of God against Sodom and Go- “ morrah ; he was goodness itself, and would overlook any affront. “ But Isaac was proverbially jealous, and it was exceedingly “ dangerous to exasperate him. When Ibrahim Pasha [as con- 1 In Ali Bey’s time there were nine car¬ pets. Travels , ii. 233. 2 The arrangement, however, described by Arculf is somewhat different. He speaks of the bodies (probably meaning 69 the tombs) lying north and south, whereas they are now east and west, under slabs of stone. The tombs of the wives he also describes as apart, and of a meaner con¬ struction. — Early Travellers , p. 7. 546 THE CAVE OE MACHPELAH. App. II. “ queror of Palestine] had endeavored to enter, he had been “ driven out by Isaac, and fell back as if thunderstruck.” The chapel, in fact, contains nothing of interest; hut I men¬ tion this storv 1 both for the sake of the singular sentiment which it expresses, and also because it well illustrates the peculiar feel¬ ing which has tended to preserve the sanctity of the place, — an awe, amounting to terror, of the great personages who lay be¬ neath, and who would, it was supposed, be sensitive to any dis¬ respect shown to their graves, and revenge it accordingly. The shrines of Jacob and Leah were shown in recesses, cor- The Shrine responding to those of Abraham and Sarah,—but in /* T 1 0 L,ea * a separate cloister, opposite the entrance of the Mosque. Against Leah’s tomb, as seen through the iron grate, two green banners reclined, the origin and meaning of which were unknown. The Shrine They are placed in the pulpit on Fridays. The gates of Jacob. 0 f Jacob’s tomb were opened without difficulty, though with a deep groan from the by-standers. There was some good painted glass in one of the windows. The structure was of the same kind as that in the shrine of Abraham, but with carpets of a coarser texture. Else it calls for no special remark. . Thus far the monuments of the Mosque adhere strictly to the Biblical account as given above. This is the more remarkable, because in these particulars the agreement is beyond what might have been expected in a Mussulman sanctuary. The prominence given to Isaac, whilst in entire accordance with the Sacred nar¬ rative, is against the tenor of Mussulman tradition, which exalts Ishmael into the first place. And, in like conformity with the Sacred narrative, but unlike what we should have expected, had mere fancy been allowed full play, is the exclusion of the famous Rachel, and the inclusion of the insignificant Leah. The variation which follows rests, as I am informed by Dr. Rosen, on the general tradition of the country (justified, perhaps, by an ambiguous expression of Josephus 2 ) that the body of 1 I have been unable to discover the origin of this legend. 2 “ The bodies of the brothers of Joseph “ after a time were buried by their de- “ scendants in Hebron; but the bones of “Joseph afterwards, when the Hebrews “ migrated from Egypt, were taken to Ca- “ naan.” — Ant. ii. 8, 2. This may be in¬ tended merely to draw a distinction as to the time of removal, but probably it refers also to a difference in the places of burial, and expresses nothing positive on the sub- App. II. THE VISIT OF THE PRINCE OF WALES. 547 Joseph, after having been deposited first at Shechem, was sub¬ sequently transported to Hebron. But the peculiar sit- The Shrine uation of this alleged tomb agrees with the exceptional of Jose P h * character of the tradition. It is in a domed chamber attached to the enclosure from the outside, and reached, therefore, by an aperture broken through the massive wall itself, and thus visible on the exterior of the southern side of the wall. 1 It is less costly than the others, and it is remarkable that, although the name of his wife (according to the Mussulman version, Zuleika) is inserted in the certificates given to pilgrims who have visited the Mosque, no grave having that appellation is shown. A staff was hung up in a corner of the chamber. There were painted windows as in the shrine of Jacob. According to the story told by the guardian of the Mosque, Joseph was buried in the Nile, and Moses recovered the body, 1005 years afterwards, by marry¬ ing an Egyptian wife who knew the secret. No other tombs were exhibited inside the Mosque. In a mosque on the northern side of the great Mosque were two shrines, resembling those of Isaac and Rebekah, which were af¬ terwards explained to us as merely ornamental. On a platform immediately outside the Jewish wall on the north side, and seen from the hill rising immediately to the north-east of the MosquO, is the dome of a mosque named Jaw ally eh, said to have The been built by the Emir Abou Said Sandjar Jawali, from Mosque of whom, of course, it derives its name, in the place of the tomb of Judas, or Judah, which he caused to be destroyed. 2 These are the only variations from the catalogue of tombs in the Book of Genesis. In the fourth century, the Bourdeaux pil¬ grim saw only the six great patriarchal shrines. But from the seventh century downwards, one or more lesser tombs seem to ject. In Acts vii. 15,16, the sons of Jacob are represented as all equally buried at Shechem; but then it is with the perplex¬ ing addition that they were buried in the same place as Jacob , and “ in the sepulchre “ that Abraham bought for a sum of money “ from the sons of Emmor the father of “ Shechem.” The burial of Joseph at Shechem is distinctly mentioned in Josh, xxiv. 32. “ The bones of Joseph, which the children of Israel brought up out “ of Egypt, buried they in Shechem , in 111 the parcel of the field ’ which Jacob “ bought of the sons of Hamor the father “ of Shechem for a hundred pieces of sil- “ ver; and it became the inheritance of the “ sons of Joseph.” 1 This aperture was made by Dslhar Barkok, A. d. 1382-1389. — Quartremdre, 247. 2 a. d. 1319,1320. Quartremere, i. part ii. p. 248. 548 THE CAVE OF MACHPELAH. App. II. have been shown. Arculf speaks of the tomb of Adam, 1 “ which “is of meaner workmanship than the rest, and lies not far off “ from them at the farthest extremity to the north.” If we might take this direction of the compass to he correct, he must mean either “the tomb of Judah” or one of the two in the northern mosque. This latter conjecture is confirmed by the statement of Maundeville that the tombs of Adam and Eve were shown ; 2 which would thus correspond to these two. The tomb of Joseph is first distinctly mentioned by Ssewulf, who says that “ the bones of Joseph were buried more humbly than the “ rest, as it were at the extremity of the castle.” 3 Mr. Monro describes further “ a tomb of Esau, under a small cupola, with “ eight or ten windows, excluded from lying with the rest of the “ Patriarchs.” 4 Whether by this he meant the tomb of Joseph, or the tomb of Judah, is not clear. A Mussulman tomb of Esau was shown in the suburb of Hebron called Sir. 5 The tomb of Abner is shown in the town, and the tomb of Jesse on the hill facing Hebron on the south. But these have no connection with the Mosque, or the patriarchal burying-place. We have now gone through all the shrines, whether of real or The fictitious importance, which the Sanctuary includes. Sacred It will be seen that up to this point no mention has been made of the subject of the greatest interest, namely, the sacred cave itself, in which one at least of the pa¬ triarchal family may possibly still repose intact, — the embalmed body of Jacob. It may be well supposed that to this object our inquiries were throughout directed. One indication alone of the cavern beneath was visible. In the interior of the Mosque, at the corner of the shrine of Abraham, was a small circular hole, 1 The tomb of Adam was shown as the “ Fourth ” of the “ Four,” who, with the three Patriarchs, were supposed to have given to Hebron the name of Kirjath-Arba, “ the city of the Four.” By a strange mistake which Jerome has perpetuated in the Vulgate translation, the word Adam in Joshua xxiv. 15, “ a great man among the Anakims,” has been taken by some of the Rabbis as a proper name. “ Adam maximus ibi inter Enacim situs est.” That there was a fixed tradition about Adam in Hebron appears from the legend which represents a natural well in the hill facing the mosque as that in which Adam and Eve hid themselves after the flight from Paradise; and Hebron is also repre¬ sented as the place of his creation. This was pointed out to Maundeville ( Early Travellers , p. 161). 2 Maundeville ( Early Travellers , p. 161) 3 A. d. 1102 ( Early Travellers , p. 45). 4 Summer Ramble , i. 243. 5 Quatremere, i. pt. ii. p. 319. App. II. THE VISIT OF THE PRINCE OF WALES. 549 about eight inches across, of which one foot above the pavement was built of strong masonry, but of which the lower part, as far as we could see and feel, was of the living rock. 1 This cavity appeared to open into a dark space beneath, and that space (which the guardians of the Mosque believed to extend under the whole platform) can hardly be anything else than the ancient cavern of Machpelah. This was the only aperture which the guardians recognized. Once, they said, 2,500 years ago, a servant of a great king had penetrated through some other entrance. He descended in full possession of his faculties, and of remarkable cor¬ pulence ; he returned, blind, deaf, withered, and crippled. Since then the entrance was closed, and this aperture alone was left, partly for the sake of suffering the holy air of the cave to escape in¬ to the Mosque, and be scented by the faithful; partly for the sake of allowing a lamp to be let down by a chain which we saw sus¬ pended at the mouth, to burn upon the sacred grave. We asked whether it could not be lighted now. “ No,” they said ; “ the “ saint likes to have a lamp at night, but not in the full daylight.” With that glimpse into the dark void we and the world with¬ out must for the present be satisfied. Whether any other en¬ trance is known to the Mussulmans themselves, must be a matter of doubt. The original entrance to the cave, if it is now to be found at all, must probably be on the southern face of the hill, between the Mosque and the gallery containing the shrine of Joseph, and entirely obstructed by the ancient Jewish wall, prob¬ ably built across it for this very purpose. It seems to our notions almost incredible that Christians and Mussulmans, each for a period of 600 years, should have held possession of the sanctuary, and not had the curiosity to explore what to us is the one object of interest, — the cave. But the fact 1 This hole was not shown to Ali Bey, perhaps as being only an ordinary pilgrim. It is thus described by Mr. Monro or his informant: —“A baldachin, supported on four small columns over an octagon figure of black and white inlaid, round a small hole in the pavement” (i. 264). It is also mentioned by the Arab historians. “ There “ is a vault that passes for the burial-place “ of Abraham, in which is a lamp always u lighted. Hence the common expression “ among the people, ‘ the Lord of the vault “ and the lamp'" (Quatremere, i. pt. ii. p. 247). “ Near the tomb of Abraham is “ a vault, where is a small gate leading “ to the minbar (pulpit). Into this hole “ once fell an idiot, who was followed by “ the servants of the Mosque. They saw “ a stone staircase of fifteen steps, which “led to the minbar" (Ibid.) The lamp is also mentioned by Mr. Monro (i. p. 244), and by Benjamin of Tudela (see p. 551). 550 THE CAVE OF MACHPEEAH. Apr. II. is undoubted that no account exists of any such attempt. Such a silence can only be explained (but it is probably a sufficient explanation) by the indifference which prevailed, throughout the Middle Ages, to any historical spots however interesting, unless they were actually consecrated as places of pilgrimage. The Mount of Olives, the site of the Temple of Solomon, the Rock of the Holy Sepulchre itself, were not thought worthy of even momentary consideration, in comparison with the chapels and stations which were the recognized objects of devotion. Thus at Hebron a visit to the shrines, both for Christians and Mussul¬ mans, procures a certificate. The cave had therefore no further value. In the case of the Mussulmans this indifference is still more general. Suraya Pasha himself, a man of considerable in¬ telligence, professed that he had never thought of visiting the Mosque of Hebron for any other purpose than that of snuffing the sacred air, and he had never, till we arrived at Jerusalem, seen the wonderful convent of Mar Saba, or the Dead Sea, or the Jordan. And to this must be added, if not in his case, in that of Mussulmans generally, the terror which they entertain of the effect of the wrath of the Patriarchs on any one who should in¬ trude into the place where they are supposed still to be in a kind of suspended animation. As far back as the seventeenth century it was firmly believed that if any Mussulman entered the cavern, immediate death would be the consequence. 1 It should be mentioned, however, that two accounts are re¬ ported of travellers having obtained a nearer view of the cave than was accomplished in the visit of the Prince of Wales. The first is contained in the pilgrimage of Benjamin of Tudela, Benjamin the Jewish traveller of the twelfth century : — “ The of ludeia. u Q eu til e s have erected six sepulchres in this place, “ which they pretend to be those of Abraham and Sarah, Isaac “ and Rebekah, Jacob and Leah. The pilgrims are told that “ they are the sepulchres of the fathers, and money is extorted “ from them. But if any Jew comes, who gives an additional “ fee to the keeper of the cave, an iron door is opened, which “ dates from the time of our forefathers who rest in peace, and “ with a burning candle in his hands, the visitor descends into a 1 Quaresmius, ii. 772. Arp. II. ACCOUNT OF M. PIEROTTI. 551 “ first cave, which is empty, traverses a second in the same state, “ and at last reaches a third, w T hich contains six sepulchres, those “ of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and of Sarah, Rebekah, and “ Leah, one opposite the other. All these sepulchres bear in- “ scriptions, the letters being engraved. Thus, upon that of “ Abraham we read: — ‘ This is the sepulchre of our father “ 4 Abraham; upon whom be peace,’ and so on that of Isaac, “ and upon all the other sepulchres. A lamp burns in the cave “ and upon the sepulchres continually, both night and day, and “ you there see tombs filled with the bones of Israelites, — for “ unto this day it is a custom of the house of Israel to bring “ hither the bones of their saints and of their forefathers, and to “ leave them there.” In this account, 1 which, as may be observed, does not profess to describe Benjamin’s own experience, there are two circum¬ stances (besides its general improbability) which throw consider¬ able doubt on its accuracy. One is the mention of inscriptions, and of an iron door, which, as is well known, are never found in Jewish sepulchres. The other is the mention of the practice of Jews sending their bones to be buried in a place, which, as is evident from the rest of the narrative, could only be entered with the greatest difficulty. The second account is that of M. Ermete Pierotti, who, hav¬ ing been an engineer in the Sardinian army, acted for jp Ermete some years as architect and engineer to Suraya Pasha, Pierottl - at Jerusalem, and thus obtained, both in that city and at Hebron, access to places otherwise closed to Europeans. The following account appeared in the “ Times ” of April 30, 1862, immediately following on the announcement of the Prince’s visit: — “ The true entrance to the Patriarchs’ tomb is to be seen close “ to the western wall of the enclosure, and near the north-west “ corner; it is guarded by a very thick iron railing, and I was “ not allowed to go near it. I observed that the Mussulmans “ themselves did not go very near it. In the court opposite the “ entrance gate of the Mosque, there is an opening, through 1 A somewhat similar account is given persons saw the bodies, preserved without by Moawiyeh Ishmail, Prince of Aleppo, change; and that in the cavern were ar- — that in A. d. 1089 the tombs of Abraham, ranged lamps of gold and silver (Quatre- Isaac, and Jacob were found; that many mere, 245). 552 THE CAYE OF MACHPELAH. Arp. II. “ which I was allowed to go down for three steps, and I was able “ to ascertain by sight and touch that the rock exists there, and “ to conclude it to be about five feet thick. From the short ob- “ servations I could make during my brief descent, as also from “ the consideration of the east wall of the Mosque, and the little “ information I extracted from the Chief Santon, who jealously “ guards the sanctuary, I consider that a part of the grotto exists “ under the Mosque, and that the other part is under the court, “ but at a lower level than that lying under the Mosque. This “ latter must be separated from the former by a vertical stratum “ of rock which contains an opening, as I conclude, for two rea- “ sons : first, because the east wall, being entirely solid and mas- “ sive, requires a good foundation; secondly, because the petitions “ which the Mussulmans present to the Santon to be transmitted “ to the Patriarchs are thrown, some through one opening, some “ through the other, according to the Patriarch to whom they “ are directed; and the Santon goes down by the way I w r ent, “ whence I suppose that on that side there is a vestibule, and “ that the tombs may be found below it. I explained my con¬ jectures to the Santon himself after leaving the Mosque, and “ he showed himself very much surprised at the time, and told “ the Pasha afterwards that I knew more about it than the Turks “ themselves. The fact is, that even the Pasha who governs the “ province has no right to penetrate into the sacred enclosure, “ where (according to the Mussulman legend) the Patriarchs are “ living, and only condescend to receive the petitions addressed “ to them by mortals.” 1 «/ It will be seen that this statement of the entrance of the San¬ ton, or Sheik of the Mosque, into the cave, agrees with the state¬ ment given in my Lectures; “ that the cave consists of two “ compartments, into one of which a dervish or skeik is allowed “ to penetrate on special emergencies.” 2 Against this must be 1 M. Pierotti adds (what has often been “ erture is on the ground level.” This observed before) that “ the Jews who dwell however, is merely an access to the rock, “ in Hebron, or visit it, are allowed to kiss not to the cave. “ and touch a piece of the sacred rock close 2 Lecture II. p. 37. This w r as founded “ to the north-west corner, which they can on the information of our Mussulman ser- “ reach through a small aperture. To ac- vants in 1853. In 1862 I was unable to “ complish this operation they are obliged gain any confirmation of the story. “ to lie flat on the ground, because the ap- Arp. II. RESULTS OE THE PRINCE’S VISIT. 553 set the repeated assertions of the guardian of the Mosque, and of the Governor of Jerusalem, (which, as has been seen, are substantially confirmed by the Arab historians,) that no Mussul¬ man has ever entered the cave within the memory of man. Of the staircase and gate described by M. Pierotti, there was no ap¬ pearance on our visit, though we must have walked over the very spot, — being, in fact, the pavement in front of the Mosque. Of the separate apertures for throwing down the petitions we also saw r nothing. And it would seem from Finati’s account, that the one hole down which he threw his petition was that by the tomb of Abraham. 1 The result of the Prince’s visit will have been disappointing to those who expected a more direct solution of the Results mysteries of Hebron. But it has not been without pace’s its indirect benefits. In the first place, by His Royal visit - Highness’s entrance, the first step has been taken for the removal of the bar of exclusion from this most sacred and interesting spot. The relaxation may in future times be slight and gradual, and the advantage gained must be used with every caution ; but it is impossible not to feel that some effect will be produced even on the devotees of Hebron when they feel that the Patriarchs have not suffered any injury or affront, and that even Isaac rests tranquilly in his grave. Even on our return to our emcampment that evening, and in our rides in and around Hebron the next day, such an effect might be discerned. Dr. Rosen had predicted beforehand that if the entrance were once made, no additional precautions need be provided. “ They will be so awe-struck at the “ success of your attempt, that they will at once acquiesce in it.” And so in fact it proved. Although we were still accompanied by a small escort, yet the rigid vigilance of the previous day was relaxed, and no indications appeared of any annoyance or anger. And Englishmen may fairly rejoice that this advance in the cause of religious tolerance (if it may so be called) and of Biblical knowledge, was attained in the person of the heir to 1 “ I went into a mosque at Hebron and “ way, or reaches the bottom, it is looked “ threw a paper down into a hole that is “ upon as a sign of good or ill luck for the “ considered to be the tomb of Abraham, “petitioner .”—Travels of Finati , ii. p. n and according as the paper lodges by the 236. 70 654 GENERAL RESULTS. App. II. the English throne, out of regard to the position which he and his country hold in the Eastern world. In the second place, the visit has enabled us to form a much clearer judgment of the value of the previous accounts, to cor¬ rect their deficiencies and to rectify their confusion. The narra¬ tive of Ali Bey in particular, is now substantially corroborated. The existence and the exact situation of the cave underneath the floor of the Mosque, the appearance of the ancient enclosure from within, the precise relation of the different shrines to each other, and the general conformity of the traditions of the Mosque to the accounts of the Bible and of early travellers, are now for the first time clearly ascertained. To discover the entrance of the cave, to examine the actual places of the patriarchal sep¬ ulture, and to set eyes (if so be) on the embalmed body of Jacob, the only patriarch the preservation of whose remains is thus described, must be reserved for the explorers of another generation, for whom this visit will have been the best prepara¬ tion. Meanwhile, it may be worth while to recall the general in- Generai struction furnished by the nearer contemplation of this results. remarkable spot. The narrative itself to which it takes us back stands alone in the Patriarchal history for the precision with which both locality and character are delineated. First, there is the death of Sarah in the city of Kirjath-Arba, whilst Abraham is absent, 1 apparently at Mamre. He comes to make the grand display of funeral grief, u mourning aloud and weep¬ ing aloud,” such as would befit so great a death. He is filled with the desire, not Egyptian, not Christian, hardly Greek or Roman, but certainly Jewish, to thrust away the dark shadow that has fallen upon him, “ to bury his dead out of his sight.” 2 Then ensues the conference in the gate, — the Oriental place of assembly, where the negotiators and the witnesses of the transac¬ tion, as at the present day, are gathered from the many comers and goers through “ the gate of the city.” 3 As in the Gentile traditions of Damascus, and as in the ancient narrative of the pursuit of the five kings, Abraham is saluted by the native inhabitants, not merely as a wandering shepherd, but as a 1 Gen. xxiii. 2. 2 Ibid. 4. 3 Ibid. 10. Apr. II. GENERAL RESULTS. 555 44 Prince of God.” 1 The inhabitants are, as we might expect, not the Amorites, but the Hittites, whose name is that recog¬ nized by all the surrounding nations. 2 They offer him the most sacred of their sepulchres for the cherished remains. 3 The Pa¬ triarch maintains his determination to remain aloof from the Canaanite population, at the same time that he preserves every form of courtesy and friendliness, in accordance with the mag¬ nificent toleration and inborn gentleness which pervade his character. 4 * First, as in the attitude of Oriental respect, 44 he stands,” and then, twice over, he prostrates himself on the ground, before the heathen masters of the soil. 6 Ephron, the son of Zohar, is worthy of the occasion ; his courtesy matches that of the Patriarch himself: — 44 The field give I thee, the 44 cave .... give I thee; in the presence of the sons of my 44 people give I it thee.” 41 What is that betwixt thee and 44 me ? ” 6 It is precisely the profuse liberality with which the Arab of the present time places everything in his possession at the disposal of the stranger. But the Patriarch, with the high independence of his natural character, (shall we say, also, with the caution of his Jewish descendants ?) will not be satisfied without a regular bargain. He 44 weighs out ” 7 the coin. He specifies every detail in the property ; not the field only, but the cave in the field, and the trees in the field, and on the edge of the field, 44 were made sure.” 8 The result is the first legal con¬ tract recorded in human history, the first known interment of the dead, the first assignment of property to the Hebrew peo¬ ple in the Holy Land. 9 To this graphic and natural scene, not, indeed, by an absolute continuity of proof, but by such evidence as has been given above, the cave of Machpelah carries us back. And if in the long interval which elapses between the description of the spot in the Book of Genesis (whatever date we assign to that descrip¬ tion) and the notice of the present sanctuary by Josephus, so 1 Gen. xxiii. 6; comp. Lect. 1.11; II. 46. 2 See Lecture II. 30. 8 Gen. xxiii. 6. 4 See Lecture II. 43. 6 Gen. xxiii. 7-12. « Ibid. 13-15. 7 Ibid. 16. 8 Ibid. 17. 9 Several of the above details are sug¬ gested by an excellent passage on this subject in Thomson’s Land and Booh , pp. 577-579. 556 GENERAL RESULTS. App. II. venerable a place and so remarkable a transaction are passed over without a word of recognition, this must, on any hypothesis, be reckoned amongst the many proofs that, in ancient literature, no argument can be drawn against a fact from the mere silence of authors, whether sacred or secular, whose minds were fixed on other subjects, and who were writing with another inten¬ tion. PLAN OF MOUNT GERIZIM. 1. Fortress. 2. Seven steps of Adam out of Paradise. 3. Scene of the offering of Isaac, — a trough like that used for the Paschal Feast. 4. “ Holy Place.” 5. Joshua’s Twelve Stones. 6. “ Tomb of Sheik Ghranem,” or “ Shechem ben Hamor.” 7. “ Cave where the Tabernacle was built.” 8. Hole where the Paschal sheep are roasted, 9. Trench where they are eaten. 10. Platform for the celebration of the Passover. 11. Hole where the water is boiled. App. in. THE SAMARITAN PASSOVER. 559 APPENDIX III. THE SAMARITAN PASSOVER. The illustration which I have endeavored to furnish of the original Jewish Passover, 1 from the institution of the Samaritan Passover, was drawn from a description given to me in 1854 by Mr. Rogers, 2 now Consul at Damascus. During my late jour¬ ney with the Prince of Wales, I was enabled myself to be present at its celebration, and I am induced to give a full account of it, the more so as it is evident that the ceremonial has been consid¬ erably modified since the time when it was first recounted to me. Even to that lonely community the influences of Western change have extended; and this is perhaps the last generation which will have the opportunity of witnessing this vestige of the earliest Jewish ritual. The Samaritan Passover is celebrated at the same time as the Jewish, — namely, on the full moon of the month Nisan. In the present instance, either by design or by a fortunate mistake, the Samaritan community had anticipated the 14th of the month by two days. It was on the evening of Saturday the 18th of April that we ascended Mount Gerizim, and visited the various traditional localities on the rocky platform which crowns that most ancient of sanctuaries. The wdiole community — amount¬ ing, it is said, to one hundred and fifty-two, from which hardly any variation has taken place within the memory of man — were encamped in tents on a level space, a few hundred yards below the actual summit of the mountain, selected on account of its comparative shelter and seclusion. 3 The women were shut up in 1 See Lecture V. p. 134. 8 It is only within the last twenty years 2 His account has since been printed in that the Samaritans (chiefly through the his sister’s interesting work, Domestic Life intervention of the English Consul) have in Palestine , 281. regained the right, or rather the safety, of 560 THE SAMARITAN PASSOVER. App. Ill the tents. 1 The men were assembled on the rocky terrace in mi sacred costume. In 1854 they all wore the same sa- The J prepara- cred costume. On this occasion most of them were in their ordinary dress. Only about fifteen of the elder men, amongst whom was the Priest Amram, 2 were clothed, as formerly was the case with the whole community, in long white robes. To these must be added six youths, 3 dressed in white shirts and white drawers. The feet both of these and of the elders were at this time of the solemnity bare. It was about half an hour before sunset, that the whole male community in an irregular form (those attired as has been described in a more regular order) gathered round a long trough that had been pre¬ viously dug in the ground; and the Priest, ascending a large rough stone in front of the congregation, recited in a loud chant or scream, in which the others joined, prayers or praises chiefly turning on the glories of Abraham and Isaac. Their attitude was that of all Orientals in prayer: standing, occasionally diver¬ sified by the stretching out of the hands, and more rarely by kneeling or crouching, with their faces wrapt in their clothes and bent to the ground, 4 towards the Holy Place on the summit of Gerizim. The Priest recited his prayers by heart; the others had mostly books, in Hebrew and Arabic. holding their festival on Mount Gerizim. For a long time before, they had celebrated the Passover like the modern Jews, and, as in the first celebration of the institution in Egypt, in their own houses. The per¬ formance of the solemnity on Gerizim is in strict conformity with the principle laid down in Deut. xvi. 15 — “ Thou shalt keep a solemn feast in the place which the Lord thy God shall choose ” — and with the practice which prevailed in Judaea till the fall of Jerusalem, of celebrating the Pass- over at the Temple. 1 Those women who, by the approach uf childbirth or other ceremonial reasons, were prevented from sharing in the cel¬ ebration, remained in Nablfis. 2 It is stated in Miss Rogers’s Domestic Life in Palestine (249) that Amram is not properly a priest (the legitimate high priest — the last descendant, as they al¬ lege, of Aaron — having expired some years ago), and that he is only a Levite. He is, however, certainly called “ the priest ” (Cohen). He has two wives. The children of the first died in infancv, and he was therefore entitled, by Samar¬ itan usage, to take a second. By her he has a son, Isaac. But, according to the Oriental law of succession, he will be suc¬ ceeded in his office by his nephew Jacob, as the oldest of the family. 3 These youths were evidently trained for the purpose; but whether they held any sacred office, I could not learn. In the Jewish ritual, the lambs were usually slain by the householders, but on great occasions (2 Chron. xxxv. 10) apparently by the Levites. 4 Compare the attitude of Elijah (1 Kings xviii. 42; xix. 13). App. III. THE SAMARITAN PASSOVER. 561 Presently, suddenly, there appeared amongst the worshippers six sheep, 1 driven up by the side of the youths before The mentioned. The unconscious innocence with which Sacnfice - they wandered to and fro amongst the bystanders, and the sim¬ plicity in aspect and manner of the young men who tended them, more recalled a pastoral scene in Arcadia, or one of those inim¬ itable patriarchal tableaux represented in the Ammergau Mys¬ tery, than a religious ceremonial. The sun, meanwhile, which hitherto had burnished up the Mediterranean in the distance, now sank very nearly to the farthest western ridge overhanging the plain of Sharon. The recitation became more vehement. The Priest turned about, facing his brethren, and the whole history of the Exodus from the beginning of the Plagues of Egypt was rapidly, almost furiously, chanted. The sheep, still innocently playful, were driven more closely together. The setting sun now touched the ridge. The youths 2 burst into a wild murmur of their own, drew forth their long bright knives, and brandished them aloft. In a moment, the sheep were thrown on their backs, and the flashing knives rapidly drawn across their throats. Then a few convulsive but silent struggles, — “ as a sheep — dumb — that openeth not his mouth,” — and the six forms lay lifeless on the ground, the blood streaming from them ; the one only Jewish Sacrifice lingering in the world. In the blood the young men dipped their fingers, and a small spot was marked on the foreheads and noses of the children. A few years ago, the red stain was placed on all. But this had now dwindled away into the present practice, preserved, we were told, as a relic or emblem of the whole. Then, as if in congratula¬ tion at the completion of the ceremony, they all kissed each other, in the Oriental fashion, on each side of the head. The next process was that of the fleecing 3 and roasting of the slaughtered animals, for which the ancient Temple furnished 1 Seven sheep is the usual number.— Domestic Life in Palestine , 250. 2 “ The whole assembly shall kill it 1 be- ‘ tween the two evenings’” (Ex. xii. 6). *'■ Thou shalt sacrifice the Passover at “ evening, at the going down of the sun ” (Deut. xvi. 6). 3 In the ancient Jewish ritual the lambs were skinned, as in western countries (2 Chron. xxxv. 11; Mishna. Pesachim . ch. v. 9). The process, as above described, was like that of our mode of taking off the hair from pigs after they have been killed. 71 562 THE SAMARITAN PASSOVER. App. IIL such ample provisions. Two holes on the mountain-side had been dug, one at some distance, of considerable depth, the other, close to the scene of the Sacrifice, comparatively shallow. In this latter cavity, after a short prayer, a fire was kindled, out of a mass of dry heath, juniper, and briers, such as furnish the materials for the conflagration in Jotham’s Parable, delivered not far from this very spot. Over the fire were placed two caldrons full of water. Whilst the water boiled, the congre¬ gation again stood round, and (as if for economy of time) con¬ tinued the recitation of the Book of Exodus, and bitter herbs were handed round wrapped in a strip of unleavened bread: “ with unleavened bread and with bitter herbs shall they eat “it.” 1 Then was chanted another short prayer. After which the six youths again appeared, poured the boiling water over the sheep, and plucked off their fleeces. The right forelegs of the sheep, with the entrails, 2 were thrown aside and burnt. The liver was carefully put back. Long poles were brought, on which the animals were spitted ; near the bottom of each pole was a transverse peg or stick, to prevent the body from slipping off. As no part of the body is transfixed by this cross-stake — as, indeed, the body hardly impinges on it at all — there is at present but a very slight resemblance to a crucifixion. But it is possible that in earlier times the legs of the animal may have been more directly attached to the transverse beam. So at least the Jewish rite is described by Justin Martyr, — “ The Paschal “ Lamb, that is to be roasted, is roasted in a form like to that “ of the Cross. For one spit is thrust through the animal from “ head to tail, and another through its breast, to which its fore- “ feet are attached.” 3 He naturally saw in it a likeness of the Crucifixion. But his remark, under any view, is interesting ; first, because, being a native of Nablus, he probably drew his notices of the Passover from this very celebration ; which, as it would thus appear, has, even in this minute particular, been but very slightly modified since he saw it in the second century ; and, also, because, as he draws no distinction between this rite and that of the Jews in general, it confirms the probability that 1 Ex. xii. 8. 8 Dial, cum Tryph. c. 40. 2 The right shoulder and the ham¬ strings (Domestic Life in Palestine , 2501 % App. III. THE SAMARITAN PASSOVER. 563 the Samaritan Passover is on the whole a faithful representation of the Jewish. That the spit was run right through the body of the animal in the Jewish ritual, and was of wood, as in the Samaritan, is clear from the account in the Mishna. 1 The sheep were then carried to the other hole already men¬ tioned, which was constructed in the form of the The usual oven ( tannur ) of Arab villages, — a deep circular roastm s- pit sunk in the earth, with a fire kindled at the bottom. Into this the sheep were thrust down (it is said, but this I could not see), with care, to prevent the bodies from impinging on the sides, and so being roasted by anything but the fire. 2 A hurdle was then put over the mouth of the pit, well covered with wet earth, so as to seal up the oven till the roasting was completed. “ They shall eat the flesh in that night roast with fire. Eat “ not of it raw, nor sodden at all with water, but roast with “ fire.” 3 The ceremonial up to this time occupied about two hours. It was now quite dark, and the greater part of the community and of our company retired to rest. Five hours or more elapsed in silence, and it was not till after midnight that the announcement was made, that the feast was about to begin. The Paschal moon was still bright and high in the heavens. The whole male com¬ munity was gathered round the mouth of the oven, and with re¬ luctance allowed the intrusion of any stranger to a close inspec¬ tion ; a reluctance which was kept up during the whole of this part of the transaction, and contrasted with the freedom with which we had been allowed to take part in the earlier stages of the ceremony. It seemed as if the rigid exclusiveness of the ancient Paschal ordinance here came into play, — “A foreigner “ shall not eat thereof; no uncircumcised person shall eat “ thereof.” 4 Suddenly the covering of the hole was torn off, and up rose into the still moonlit sky a vast column of smoke and steam ; 1 Pesackim , ch. vi. 7. It was to be Whether the spits on Gerizim were of wood, not iron, in order that the roasting pomegranate I did not observe, might be entirely “ by fire,” and not by 2 Mishna, Pesachim , vi. 7. the hot iron; and the wood was to be 3 Ex. xii. 8, 9. pomegranate, as not emitting any water, * Ex. x ii. 45, 48. and so not interfering with the roasting. 564 THE SAMARITAN PASSOVER. App. III. recalling, with a shock of surprise, that, even by an accidental coincidence, Reginald Heber should have so well caught this striking feature of so remote and unknown a ritual,— “ Smokes on Gerizim’s Mount, Samaria’s sacrifice.” Out of the pit were dragged, successively, the six sheep, on their long spits, black from the oven. The outlines of their heads, their ears, their legs, were still visible, — “ his head with his legs, “ and with the inward parts thereof.” 1 They were hoisted aloft and then thrown on large square brown mats, previously pre¬ pared for their reception, on which we were carefully prevented from treading, as also from touching even the extremities of the spits. The bodies thus wrapt in the mats were hurried down to the trench where the sacrifice had taken place, and laid out upon them in a line between two files of the Samaritans. Those who had before been dressed in white robes still retained them, with the addition now, of shoes on their feet and staves in their hands, and ropes round their waists, — “ Thus shall ye eat it; with u your loins girded, your shoes on your feet, your staff in your “ hand.” 2 The recitation of prayers or of the Pentateuch re¬ commenced, and continued, till it suddenly terminated in their all sitting down on their haunches, after the Arab fashion at meals, and beginning to eat. This, too, is a deviation from the practice of only a few years since, when they retained the Mosaic ritual of standing whilst they ate. The actual feast was con¬ ducted in rapid silence as of men in hunger, as no doubt most of them were, and so as soon to consume every portion of the black¬ ened masses, which they tore away piecemeal with their fingers, — “ Ye shall eat in haste.” 3 There was a general merriment, as of a hearty and welcome meal. In ten minutes all was gone but a few remnants. To the Priest and to the women, who, all but two (probably his two wives), remained in the tents, sepa¬ rate morsels were carried round. The remnants were gathered into the mats, and put on a wooden grate or hurdle over the hole where the water had been originally boiled; the fire was again lit, and a huge bonfire was kindled. By its blaze, and by can- 1 Ex. xii. 9. I had heard described, I was unable to 2 Ibid. 11. recognize. 3 Ibid. 11. The hasty snatching which App. III. THE SAMARITAN PASSOYER. 565 dies lighted for the purpose, the ground was searched in every direction, as for the consecrated particles of sacramental ele¬ ments ; and these fragments of the flesh and bone were thrown upon the burning mass. “ Ye shall let nothing remain until the “ morning; and that which remaineth until the morning ye shall “ burn with fire.” “ There shall not anything of the flesh which “ thou sacrificest the first day at even remain all night until the “ morning.” “ Thou shalt not carry forth aught of the flesh “ abroad out of the house.” 1 The flames blazed up once more, and then gradually sank away. Perhaps in another century the fire on Mount Gerizim will be the only relic left of this most interesting and ancient rite. By the early morning the whole community had descended from the mountain, and occupied their usual habitations in the town. “ Thou shalt turn in the “ morning, and go unto thy tents.” 2 With us it was the morning of Palm Sunday, and it was curious to reflect by what a long gradation of centuries the sim¬ ple ritual of the English Church — celebrated then, from the necessity of the case, with more than its ordinary simplicity — had grown up out of the wild, pastoral, barbarian, yet still in¬ structive, commemoration, which we had just witnessed, of the escape of the sons of Israel from the yoke of the Egyptian King. 1 Ex. xii. 10, 46; Deut. xvi. 4. 2 Deut. xvi. 7. ' . i Vj • "r *| i* ‘jit • i'•>»•*• . * ' Y; *' i‘ * ■ ' - . • U 5 " ; 1 ti' J]tl‘VU ■ : ;• t.. , . ' ! W . . <* % ' • 1 ; ; ■■ ■■ ' ■ ... s - ftl . • *i >: fi .. M'| ‘ ' • fiM ‘ u r ■:<. -tf ' ■ • x -’ • '* p . ;.u ”££ >’ mb; .^hl *68 •* NOTE ON LECTURE VL Nearly the whole of this work was in substance written, and a large portion of it printed, before the spring of 1862, when it was suddenly interrupted by the unexpected suspension of my Professorial duties, consequent on my journey to the East. It is thus altogether irrespective of any of the works which have been recently published on the criticism and the history of the Old Testament; and it would have been beside the purpose of the work, as laid down in the Preface, to engage in any personal controversy or detailed investigation arising out of the topics which may have been there discussed. It may, how¬ ever, be due to the interest excited by one of the works to which I allude, to state in a very few words its bearing on the subject of the present volume. The arithmetical errors which have been pointed out (with greater force and in greater detail than heretofore, but not for the first time, by eminent divines and scholars) in the narrative of the Old Testament are unquestionably inconsistent with the popular hypothesis of the uni¬ form and undeviating accuracy of the Biblical history, or with the ascription of the whole Pentateuch to a contemporaneous author. But, on the other hand, the recognition of these errors would remove at one stroke some of the main difficulties of the Mosaic narrative. By such a reduction of the numbers as Laborde, for example, or Kennicott pro¬ pose, 1 many of the perplexities 2 in the story of the Exodus at once dis¬ appear, and the incredibility of one part of the narrative thus becomes a direct argument in favor of the probability of the rest. And the parallel instance of a like tendency to the amplification of numbers in Josephus’s “ Wars of the Jews” is a decisive proof of the compatibility of such amplifications, not, indeed, with an exact or literal, but with a substantially historical, narrative, of the series of events in which these errors are embedded. No doubt, to those who regard the least error in the Sacred History as fatal to the credibility and value of the whole of the Bible, and to the Christian Faith itself, such discoveries are full of alarm. But, if we extend to the narrative of the different parts of 1 See Lecture V. p. 137, and Lecture XVII. p. 423. 2 See Lecture VI. 568 NOTE. the Old Testament the same laws of criticism which we apply to other histories, especially to Oriental histories, its very errors and defects may be reckoned amongst its safeguards, and at any rate aye guides to the true apprehension of its meaning and its intention. From an honest inquiry, such as that which has suggested these remarks, and from a calm discussion of the points which it raises, the cause of Religion has everything to gain and nothing to lose. INDEX ♦ AAR Aaron, his relation to Moses, 127, 168. -his death, 222. Abimelech, 385-390. Abdon, 392, 414. Abraham, his burial, 37, 529. -his call, 14. -his migration, 5. -his “ place ” at Damascus, 532. -his tomb at Hebron, 544. -his wanderings, 29. - legends respecting him, 14, 19, 24. Achsah, 293. Ai, fall of, 263. Alexander Severus’ worship of Abra¬ ham, 23. Amalek, 156, 354. Aphek, battle of, 420. Ark, 183. Arnold quoted, 283. Asher, 297, 355. Ass, use of the, 104. Avenger of blood, 191. \ B Baal, 324. Baal-berith, 324. Balaam, 209, 217. Barak, 353. Bashan, 237. Beer, 388. Beer-elim, 208. Beersheba, 38. Benjamin, 295, 333. Bethel, Abraham’s halting-place, 34. -conquest of, 290. -Jacob’s sanctuary, 64. Beth-horon, battle of, 266. Birzeh, 532. Burckhardt, 180. Byron quoted, 399. ELI C Oaleb, 290. Canaan, Canaanite, same as Phoenician, 234. -extermination of, 278. -migration of, 307. -relations to Abraham, 43. Carlyle quoted, 282. Chrysostom’s opinion on the massacre of the Canaanites, 279. Circumcision, 26, 233, 258. Conquest of Palestine, 225. -of Eastern Palestine, 234. -of Western Palestine, 255. Controversy, 33, 244, 327. D Dagon, 402, 423. Damascus, Abraham’s connection with, 10, 532. Dan, the town, 290, 320, 331. -the tribe, 290, 297, 355. Daniel, 470. Debir, 293. Deborah, 352, 354, 365, 366. -oak of, 78. E JEbenezer, battle of, 434. Edom, character of, 60, 73. Edrei, battle of, 238. Egypt, Abraham in, 44. -Israel in, 89. -Jacob in, 80. -Joseph in, 84. -Moses in, 116. -plagues of, 130. Ehud, 348. Eli, 414, 421. 72 570 INDEX. ELO Elohim, use of the name for God, 24. -for the judges, 429. Ephraim, 294, 425. Esau, character of, 58. -history of, 78. -his tomb, 545. Etham, 189. F Faith, justified by, 20. Future life, 173. G Gad, 242. Galileo, 276. Gerizim, 53, 310, 386, 560. Geshurites, 306. Gibeah, 333. Gibeon, league with, 264, 307. -siege of, 267. Gideon, his call, 377. -his family, 376. -his royal state, 384. Gilead, 68. Gilgal, 258. H Haran, 9, 530. Hazor, 287. “ Hebrew,” the name, 10. Hebron, 36, 79, 291, 535, 538. Heliopolis, 94. Hophni and Phinehas, 346,418. Hur, 148, 186. I IcHABOD, 422. Ibzan, 392. Isaac, offering of, 56. -his character, 41, 545. -his tomb, 545. Isaiah, 469. Ishmael, 40. Issachar, 297. J J abesh-Gilead, 335. Jabin, 287. Jacob, character of, 58. -his charge, 68. -his death, 81. MAC Jacob, his tomb, 546. -his wanderings, 63. Jael, 361. Jahaz, battle of, 236. Jair, 239, 392. Jasher, book of, 271. Jebus, 305, 333. Jehovah, name of, 122. Jephthah, 341. Jeremiah, 470. Jericho, 259. Jethro, 159. Jews, 61. -name of, 290. Job, book of, 74. John the Baptist, 472. -the Evangelist, 473. Jonathan the Levite, 328. Jordan, passage of, 255. Joseph in Egypt, 84. -his tomb, 310, 547. Josephus, xxxvii. Joshua, his character, 251. -his prayer, 270. -his decrees, 303. -his death, 311. -his first appearance, 157. -name of, 254. Jotham, 342, 386. Judah, 290, 348, 355. Judges, book of, 316. -name of, 322, 429. -office of, 322. K Kadesh, 202. Kadesh-Napthali, 352. Keble quoted, 107, 163, 214, 252, 301. Kenites, 158, 361. Kepler, 277. Khudr, El, 205, 252. Kings, rise of, in Israel, 224. -worship of, 17, 99. L Law, the, 179, 192. Leah, her tomb, 546. Leprosy, 104. Levi, 188, 298. Levites, 328, 331. Lot, 34. M Maacah, 306. Macaulay quoted, 153, 225. INDEX. 571 MAC Machpelali, 36, 82, 635. Mahanaim, 69. Mahaneh-Dan, 408. Makkedah, cave of, 271. Mamre, 35, 535. Manasseh, Eastern, 243. -Western, 295. Manna, 162. Marah, 152. Megiddo, 306, 358. Melchizedek, 48. Merom, battle of, 288. Meroz, 366. Mesopotamia, 6, 66. Micah, 327. Middle Ages, 343. Midian, 236, 374, 379, 382. Milman, Dean, 114. Milton, 234, 410, 412. Mill, John Stuart, 485. Miriam, death of, 203. -song of, 146. Moab, 31, 348. Moses, birth and education, 116. -call, 120. -character and appearance, 125. -death, 223. -family, 128. -grandson, 332. -importance, 150. -legends, 116, 205, 222. -mission, 171, 464. -name of, 117. -psalm, 220. -songs, 219. -Strabo’s account of, 114. Muller, Professor, on Abraham, 16, 24. -on Revelation, 439. N Naphtali, 297. Nazarites, 345. Nobah, 240, 245, 290. O Og, 239. On, 95. Orfa, 528. Oreb, 382. Othniel, 293, 348. P Palestine, inhabitants of, 29, 230. -conquest of, 230, 235, 250, 299. -name of, 403. SAM Passover, 133, 559. Paul, S., 473. Peniel, 71. Pharaoh, 101. Philistines, origin and character, 400, 402. -fortresses, 305. Phinehas I., 245, 251, 311, 334, 414. Phinehas II., 418, 421. Phoenicians, 232, 324. Pisgah, 209, 213, 220. Plagues of Egypt, 130. Predestination, 15. Predictive Prophecy, 458, 513. Priest, 42, 49, 182. Prophetic office, 122, 171, 176. Prophets, schools of, 440. -catalogues of, 488-490. -order of, teaching in the present, 495. -in the past, 493. -in the future, 511. -the word, 457. a R Rachel, grave of, 78. Rahab, 263. Ramah, 435, 454. Rameses II., 99. Rameses, the city, 138. Rebekah, her character, 41. -her tomb, 545. Redemption, 142. Red Sea, passage of, 139. Rephidim, 156. Reuben, 242. Revelation to Abraham, 15. -to Moses, 122, 168, 169. -to Samuel, 438. “ Revelation,” meaning of, 438. Robson, letter from Mr., 530, 533. Rock, the, 161, 219. Rosen, Dr., 542. Ruth, 336. S Sabbath, 197. Sacrifice, 186. -of Isaac, 51. -of Jephthah’s daughter, 395. -Paschal, 561. Samaritan Passover, 133, 559. Samson, his birth, 403. -his character, 405. -his death, 409. -his history, 320, 406. -his name, 405. 572 INDEX. SAM Samson Agonistes, 412. Samuel, his birth, 432. -his death and grave, 453. -his judgeship, 434. -his mission, 444. -his name, 432. -his prayers, 436, 449. -his revelations, 438. Shamgar, 321. Shechem, Abimelech, 389. -Abraham at, 32. -Jacob, 75. -Joshua, 309. Shepherd kings, 91. Shibboleth, 394. Shiloh, 309, 326. -the sanctuary, 308, 421 -fall of, 424. Shittim wood, 184. Sihon, 26. Simeon, 296. Sinai, 121, 165. Sisera, 356, 361. Sodom, 31-46. Succoth in Palestine, 76. -Egypt, 138. Sun, worship of, 16, 96. T Taanach, 306, 357. Taanath, 309. ZUL Tabernacle, 185. Tabernacles, Feast of, 300. Tabor, 321, 355, 376. Taylor, Jeremy, 24. Tennyson quoted, 80. Ten Commandments, 194. Teraphim, 328. Thebez, 391. Theocracy, 174,429. Tribes, 181. —— central, 295. -eastern, 241. -northern, 297. -southern, 294, 296. U Ur of the Chaldees, 527. V Vows, 325. Z Zaanaim, 360. Zeba and Zalmunna, 374, 383. Zebulun, 297, 354. Zeeb, 374, 382. Zuleika, 83. THE END. I CAMBRIDGE: PRINTED BY H. O. HOUGHTON* •• ' • s< » -r- . ' * . ' 3 . ... ■ . . • * > ■ ■ : -■ •' I - " - '*« **■■> * . I t • r . f > *• •